Read Online The Vampyre Legal Chronicles - James by CC MacKenzie - Free Book Online
Authors: CC MacKenzie
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these days," admitted Anais as her hand lifted to stroke his thigh. His response tented his towel. Her relief was instant. "And it appears I didn't break anything important."
His smile was quick and real and it stole her heart.
"Wanna kiss it better?"
"It's the least I can do."
"You won't catch me by surprise again." She watched his vampire rise as his eyes changed from blue to the color of the finest, deepest claret. His torso, his muscles (every muscle) grew bigger. Now his vampyre growled the words she loved in a language all but forgotten in the modern world. 'Tha gaol agam ort.' I love you.
The sincerity in that gravelly tone speaking in an ancient Gaelic dialect was heartfelt.
Emotion made her eyes sting, the room blur, as she reached for him.
"I love you, too, my vampyre."
He kissed her with tongue, with teeth, and when he fisted her hair and pulled her close, with bloodlust filled with a passion that made her weak. Only he could do this to her. Only Marcus.
With both hands in her hair, he raised his head and watched his fingers brush through silky strands from her scalp right to the ends. He brought a fistful to his nose and inhaled as if scenting his favourite flower.
"I love your hair. I love how it smells, how it feels against my skin," he murmured an admission that was not news to her.
She couldn't help but smile.
"If it carries on growing like this it'll be down to my knees soon. I'll look like Cousin It ."
The dimple in his left cheek flashed.
"I enjoyed the black and white television show of The Addams Family very much. My brothers and I never missed an episode."
" The hand used to freak me out," admitted Anais. "If I only knew then what I know now about the real monsters in our world, The hand wouldn't have bothered me."
His smooth brow creased as he watched his fingertips whisper down her flushed cheek.
"If you had done what you were told and stayed indoors, you would be none the wiser about the real monsters in this world."
Marcus's tone was like a blade across her heightened senses. Lethal and sharp.
And she knew it would take him a long time before he got over the real fear of losing her.
"I needed to breathe fresh air," she tried to explain her reasoning in the night in question. A night when she'd been tossed from a balcony hundreds of feet above the ground, and caught by a Legionnaire who'd used his magic to render her unconscious. Even now the horror of it made her shudder.
"You nearly lost your life."
The way he snapped at her had her draw back and pull the comforter up to her chin.
"Do you really believe French windows would have stopped Ezekiel or the Legion from taking me?"
"Yes." He decided not to tell her about the charms and spells of white magic his kind used to keep enemies at bay.
Not yet.
"What was all that Consort business before?"
"You are my Consort."
Now her brows lifted.
"So you said. What does it mean?"
"What do you think it means?"
"Oh no you don't. Do not start answering a question with a question, Marcus. You know it only annoys me."
His vampyre relaxed and now brilliant blue eyes held hers.
"It means you are my mate, my wife, my partner. I am a prince."
She hadn't given a thought to the fact he was vampyre royalty.
Her brow creased.
"Does that mean I'm a princess?"
Marcus had to admire his wife.
For months, while he'd worked closely with her, he'd analysed and examined and increasingly tested her patience. All the while probing her thought processes, stretching her intellectually. And she'd passed all with flying colours. Yes, Anais was going to make a very fine consort for a vampyre prince.
In his mind, his vampyre grew restless and had the temerity to disagree with his analysis.
'She is weak. She feels too much, cares too much, and worries too much about things that cannot be changed.'
The words were a low growl in his mind. Marcus could always rely on his beast to tell him the truth. While he didn't exactly disagree, he didn't agree
His smile was quick and real and it stole her heart.
"Wanna kiss it better?"
"It's the least I can do."
"You won't catch me by surprise again." She watched his vampire rise as his eyes changed from blue to the color of the finest, deepest claret. His torso, his muscles (every muscle) grew bigger. Now his vampyre growled the words she loved in a language all but forgotten in the modern world. 'Tha gaol agam ort.' I love you.
The sincerity in that gravelly tone speaking in an ancient Gaelic dialect was heartfelt.
Emotion made her eyes sting, the room blur, as she reached for him.
"I love you, too, my vampyre."
He kissed her with tongue, with teeth, and when he fisted her hair and pulled her close, with bloodlust filled with a passion that made her weak. Only he could do this to her. Only Marcus.
With both hands in her hair, he raised his head and watched his fingers brush through silky strands from her scalp right to the ends. He brought a fistful to his nose and inhaled as if scenting his favourite flower.
"I love your hair. I love how it smells, how it feels against my skin," he murmured an admission that was not news to her.
She couldn't help but smile.
"If it carries on growing like this it'll be down to my knees soon. I'll look like Cousin It ."
The dimple in his left cheek flashed.
"I enjoyed the black and white television show of The Addams Family very much. My brothers and I never missed an episode."
" The hand used to freak me out," admitted Anais. "If I only knew then what I know now about the real monsters in our world, The hand wouldn't have bothered me."
His smooth brow creased as he watched his fingertips whisper down her flushed cheek.
"If you had done what you were told and stayed indoors, you would be none the wiser about the real monsters in this world."
Marcus's tone was like a blade across her heightened senses. Lethal and sharp.
And she knew it would take him a long time before he got over the real fear of losing her.
"I needed to breathe fresh air," she tried to explain her reasoning in the night in question. A night when she'd been tossed from a balcony hundreds of feet above the ground, and caught by a Legionnaire who'd used his magic to render her unconscious. Even now the horror of it made her shudder.
"You nearly lost your life."
The way he snapped at her had her draw back and pull the comforter up to her chin.
"Do you really believe French windows would have stopped Ezekiel or the Legion from taking me?"
"Yes." He decided not to tell her about the charms and spells of white magic his kind used to keep enemies at bay.
Not yet.
"What was all that Consort business before?"
"You are my Consort."
Now her brows lifted.
"So you said. What does it mean?"
"What do you think it means?"
"Oh no you don't. Do not start answering a question with a question, Marcus. You know it only annoys me."
His vampyre relaxed and now brilliant blue eyes held hers.
"It means you are my mate, my wife, my partner. I am a prince."
She hadn't given a thought to the fact he was vampyre royalty.
Her brow creased.
"Does that mean I'm a princess?"
Marcus had to admire his wife.
For months, while he'd worked closely with her, he'd analysed and examined and increasingly tested her patience. All the while probing her thought processes, stretching her intellectually. And she'd passed all with flying colours. Yes, Anais was going to make a very fine consort for a vampyre prince.
In his mind, his vampyre grew restless and had the temerity to disagree with his analysis.
'She is weak. She feels too much, cares too much, and worries too much about things that cannot be changed.'
The words were a low growl in his mind. Marcus could always rely on his beast to tell him the truth. While he didn't exactly disagree, he didn't agree
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