Oh, yeah, he was angry with her. And unrelenting. She sighed and complied. She didn’t like the idea of him taking control of her that way and she knew him well enough now to know there wouldn’t be a second warning.
She found herself crouched beside him, no clothes, because she’d forgotten them. Shivering, she tried to think how to do the clothes, but he waved his hand and she was dressed in the same attire she’d worn all evening—minus her shirt.
Andre caught her wrists and pulled her up and to him. He had already removed the vampire’s blood from his arms and chest. Her heart began thudding when she heard the sizzle of the whip. Her entire body began to shake. The sound of that white-hot energy bolt was worse than the black acid burning through the skin of her back and shoulders. Instinctively she tried to struggle, to get out of Andre’s hold.
“Quiet, sivamet. This will not harm you. I will hold the necessary temperature in your mind for you. Trust me. You do not want that blood in or on your body.”
“I don’t want any of this,” she replied, trying not to cry. She was not about to be a crybaby in front of him, not when he was angry with her. Still, his voice had gentled and she didn’t want that either because then she really might cry, so no matter what, she was in trouble. “I just want to go home.”
“I am your home, as you are mine. Hold still. Close your eyes.”
She swallowed hard and did as he instructed. She heard the crack of lightning and behind her eyes was a terrible, blinding flash. Her back felt hot. Really, really hot. Not burning. The sensation was strange. She didn’t like it at all. Then it was gone and with it the pain boiling through her flesh down to her bones. It still hurt, but not in the same way. The moment it was done, she donned a shirt to cover the damage to her body.
Andre put her from him. Again his touch was gentle. She opened her eyes. His chest was a mess. He had a hole in it and his face had a few deep scratches, but there were far worse lacerations on his shoulder and arms, not to mention the two bullet wounds that seemed the least of his worries. He was bleeding profusely from the chest wound and some of the deeper lacerations.
Teagan looked down at her midriff. Andre bunched her shirt in his fist and lifted it so he could see the laceration that went all the way across her front, from rib to rib. Blood dripped steadily and ran down her belly.
Csitri.
There it was. Silk and velvet. Rough. Tender. Turning her stomach upside down. Even her heart did a little strange tremor.
“You are killing me, Teagan. I cannot have my woman in battle.” He sighed softly, caught her hips with both hands and bent his head to the slash.
Teagan closed her eyes as his tongue slid so very gently along the wound.
I cannot. I am not the kind of man that can have his lifemate in danger.
Her heart stuttered again. It felt . . . delicious. Amazing. More, his soft confession, a mixture of tenderness, regret and steely determination, took her breath. Went all the way through her to her soul. She heard him. She knew his anger was all about the laceration on her body, the vampire’s blood dripping onto her, the undead touching her. In his mind was the specter of his human family, their bodies lying broken all around him, the vampire’s hands on his adopted little sister and mother. She heard him. She got him. She knew what that moment had cost him when he saw her in danger.
Teagan pushed at his wild hair with gentle fingers. A caress. “I’m sorry, Andre. I can’t stand seeing you in danger. I was so afraid for you. I didn’t think you saw Keith creeping up behind you.”
He continued to lap at the long, angry line on her midriff. His fingers tightened on her hips. I see everything in battle, Teagan. I have been fighting vampires for centuries. These were easy. The humans I could have stopped even easier. You cannot put yourself in danger. Promise me.
She closed her eyes, her fingers moving in his hair. She couldn’t promise him. She couldn’t. She wanted to give him that reassurance, but she knew if she saw him in danger again, she would rush to help. That was part of who she was and it wasn’t going to change.
“I want to give you everything, Andre. I hate that I brought that memory so close to the surface again, but I can’t be anyone but who I am.”
With one last swipe of his tongue he straightened and looked down at her with his blue eyes. His palms went to the wound. Both of them. Pressing into her skin, spanning her midriff, taking in every inch. She felt the warmth. The healing. He was good. No, he was better than good, and deep inside, the healer in her watched and remembered his every move.
He turned her around, lifting her shirt so he could examine her back. She felt the slide of his hair. All that silk against her skin. The velvet rasp of his tongue followed. She closed her eyes. The action was sensual. Primitive, but still very sensuous. Her body grew hot and wet.
When he lifted his head and turned her back around to face him, his expression was gentle, not at all angry. “I do not know what I am going to do with you when I must go into battle. Chain you inside a cave perhaps. To the bed. So you will be waiting for me when I get back.”
“Um. No. Just no to that one. I wouldn’t be waiting with open arms. You try that one and you’ll find out how much damage a modern woman can do when she’s really annoyed with her man.”
Her gaze fastened on his chest. The hole in his flesh. The lacerations. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the damage. Everything in her, every cell in her body pushed her to heal those terrible wounds. How he was standing, she didn’t know. More, he had taken the time to heal her.