Chapter 3- Sweet kiss

With a flutter, Grace heaved her thick tangle of lashes, revealing the big brown eyes that were still clouded by sleep, confusion, or maybe it was anger.

"Oh God," she grumbled under her breath. Like it was the end of the world.

James Grayson didn’t answer her right away. He just leaned back, one hand behind his head and the other lazily and very distractingly wonderful to look at over his muscled abs. Grace bit her lip as she imagined how those beautiful hands had pleased her in the right places.

Last night, after the ritual, James brought her here to his own suite. At the time, he’d told himself it was for her safety because he'd promised to take care of her. He had made a promise to find her father’s killer, and by the gods, that’s what he would do.

But no matter how he attempted to twist his reasoning, he knew it wasn’t just a sheer need to protect Louie’s daughter that led him to tenderly nestle her in his arms or to awaken well before sunset just so he could study her pale, polished, beautiful face. And to make his guilt worse was that when he had her last night, he found out that she was pure. He took her innocence. Louie might want to awaken from his slumber in hell just to kick the heck out of him for taking his daughter's purity.

His eyes locked with the innocent mortal, and when he felt that heated gaze burns right into him, James shivered, his muscles tightening as the woman’s face flushed with passion, or anger.

"Yes, sweetheart, we made love and you liked it. Oh! you begged," James winked, thinking about how his busy days ended up so fucked up when one of his most trusted friends and a warrior died few days ago from an ambush. He sighed and closed his eyes. Louie was a dear friend. They'd been to many wars, many countries, and centuries upon centuries, but he died in the hands of vicious rat-infested-heart hunters. Soon, those fools would beg for their lives. He promised

Reading the human thoughts earlier, her many questions and her vague recollection of what happened yesterday, James wondered why she had totally forgotten it. After all, he had enticed her and erased her memory, yet something emerged in her cloudy mind that he could almost taste.

Unbeknownst to Grace, what happened last night was no ordinary ceremony, but rather one of the oldest and most important nights in the undead's lives. Where one ancient vampire would select a bride to mate for all eternity. And yes, he did choose her, without a doubt, just to protect her, to protect his best friend's hybrid daughter. He was a man of words. After all, he was James Grayson III, a billionaire, the most powerful pure-bred vampire and the leader of the secret brotherhood of the undead, and for centuries he had a deadly score to settle with the hunters who killed his family and his people many centuries ago. But unforeseen chaos occurred and one of his trusted warriors, a few days ago, his best friend died from an unexpected ambush, leaving his orphaned hybrid daughter in his care, who unfortunately doesn't have any idea about their world and her true origins.

With no choice but to accept the responsibility, he arranged for someone to search for the said daughter and found that she was working in a hotel rumoured to be owned by a vampire hunter. So when he saw her getting wasted in the pub last night, he grabbed the opportunity and brought her to the ancient rites and made her his bride, which offered the woman full protection against everyone that was after him. Now, every vampire in his brotherhood would protect her no matter what.

His thought was halted when the woman raised a brow.

Grace's mouth turned wide as if she couldn't believe his audacity to tease her.

She grumbled some profanities before asking him again, "What about those… I mean, those dark-hooded people? In the underground?" She finally growled.

"Sweetheart, we didn't go anywhere; from the pub straight to here and we made love the whole night," he smirked, "Does it answer your question?" He said that looking at her eyes felt like heaven. But he knew better than to give in to her allure.

He mentally shook his head. He’d lived for centuries. Gorgeous women had wandered in and out of his life with dependable regularity. But none had acquired the shining purity of this mortal, an innocence that the tortured sadness in him yearned for. It was like her innocence could soothe away the festering darkness of his boring life. It was only her, and James only wished he could feel the mate-blood bond that every vampire desired for the rest of their lives.

Regardless, he felt nothing. He was cursed to feel nothing but the pulse of his dick and never the pulse of love and affection that blossomed in the blood bond.

Clearly, he shouldn’t have been smug. As if he had found a fortune that he hadn’t expected and didn’t even know he needed, but losing Louie was way worse than losing his wealth. He was his best friend.

However, an unusual hint of warning murmured in his heart. A spontaneous understanding of his attitude since knowing the existence of this woman... was uncharacteristic. 

He wanted to ignore the emotions. He doesn't trust her, he doesn't trust any mortal. They were vicious and traitors, but she was the only one who could eventually make him feel better. His guilt was eating him alive. If he hadn't told Luie to make a detour, he wouldn't be dead.

The grim control and cool reasoning that had sanctioned him for centuries were being weakened by the little woman currently snuggled against the very thin silky blanket. 

She blushed.

The breath she was holding came out in a whoosh, though there was a very confusing part of her that felt, well, disappointed before she shut that part of her up.

"Oh, Gracy dear, trust me," James grinned, winking at her. "You liked it."

"Can you stop that?!" Grace blushed, her eyes quickly dropping to the floor.

"Stop what, sweetheart?"

She growled.

"OK, we did it once, but you sure did beg for more, but I'm a gentleman, of course, so I politely decline your offer even if it hurts me more than the sun hurts my beautiful skin."

What a jerk! She thought as her eyes darted up to his, her face burning hot as she glared at him.

"You’re disgusting. I most certainly did not."

"Trust me. One of us can hold our liquor slightly better than the other one."

She blushed again, glaring at him.

"I didn’t beg for anything, you jerk, bloody no."

"No?" He grinned. "Then riddle me this, mortal, how come one of us is buck-naked and the other one isn’t?"

She gaped, as her face flushed with embarrassment.

Before she could leash her anger, James moved so much that Grace didn't even see him scooping her from the floor to the bed. Then his head was dipping down to capture her mouth in a silencing kiss. How else could he halt the furious rant without bodily harm? A distinguished purpose that was swiftly thwarted by the intoxicating excitement that flashed through his body. This kiss had nothing to do with hushing Grace and everything to do with the insatiable craving that flared through him with an unbearable force. 

He wanted this woman. Oh, so help him. It was like needing to taste her blood.

He needed to stroke his lips over every inch of her pure, ivory skin. He wanted to kiss, taste, and nibble on every delicious curve. He craved to be buried deep inside her as he sank his werewolf fangs into her neck and drank her powerful blood.

More than anything, he wanted to hear those low, husky moans as she attained her ecstasy.

Her fingers dug into his chest as he heightened the kiss, her lips softening. The scent of arousal flowered on her skin, expanding his fangs and making his enormous erection twitch in eagerness.

This was right.

She fit flawlessly beneath him, her feminine body soft and yet strong enough to handle the ancient excitement. Now her foul smell is gone. Her scent was exactly blended to stir his deepest hunger.

James knotted his fingers in the satin smoothness of her hair, saturating himself in sensations that were both familiar and foreign in their vigour.

This was like... heaven. There was no other phrase. He teased at her lips, lightly nipping and stroking before examining the stubborn line of her jaw. Her nails dug through the thin shirt, causing sharp darts of delightful discomfort, but his senses were too eager to lose the little whimper of pain that was jerked from her throat.

"How dare you!" Grace groaned.

Stubborn, but delectable.

Grace's body might have conceded to the intoxicating necessity of his touch, but her mind didn’t trust him.

At this point, she wanted to scream or slap him, or maybe to kiss him back again, until...

Wait no! She wanted to kick the hell out of him. But he was like a wall of bricks! Damn! The man was stronger than John Cena.

Reading her thoughts, James smiled but questioned whether she was capable of trusting anyone.

And the answer was no!

He lifted his head to heed her with a frigid composure that masked the frustration howling through his body.

"I won't hurt you, sweetheart. Stop wiggling around," he muttered.

Her face glowed with a mixture of humiliation and anger at having conceded so readily to his touch. 

"How dare-"

A hint of a smile touched his lips. "My mistake, I thought you were asking for morning sex." He winked at her.

She scowled at him for a long moment, enraged at her incapacity to throw aside his huge body and flee as she wished. Then, with a noticeable feat, she wrapped herself in a brittle dignity. "I want to go now!"

James’ smile faded. "Later, you need breakfast."

Arrogant but caring, not bad for a bad boy billionaire.

But she thought, wasn’t it enough that he’d pinned her to the bed and kissed her until she’d melted into an uncomfortable pool of willing flesh? How pathetic, she was supposed to get mad or scream for help. But yeah, of course, she bloody moans. Oh, how pathetic Grace.

But why not? The man was hard and amazing, and hot and... OK! Enough!

"I’m late… I'm going to work," she muttered under her breath. The man's heavy fresh earthy scent was intoxicating, clouding her already dizzy senses. She hadn’t asked for his approval and pushed him harder. And she most clearly hadn’t inquired about his mighty toe-curling, stomach-churning, wonderful kisses.

She stood and sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes shifting around the room—everywhere but him. More of the night was coming back in flashes—the shots of God knows what. The champagne in the limousine later. Jumping into that bed with him and all, holding his hand.

James raised his brows at her silly thought, and a smile curved his lips. "Want to see something, dear?"

Suddenly, he grabbed the sheet covering him and yanked it away. Grace shrieked, quickly jerking her head to the side and staring at the wall.

James Grayson’s deep laugh filled the room.

"I’m dressed, woman."

Slowly, she turned back, only to gasp and quickly look away again. Oh, he was dressed all right—if you call a pair of white, skin-tight, moulding to every single thick, big inch of his erection boxer briefs "dressed."

"Do you mind?" He hissed, staring at the floor as the heat burned through her face.

"I could take them off if you’re that bent out of shape."

She swears, she didn’t imagine him doing just that in her head. She swears.

Oh, hell, how on earth could that massive thing go inside her? Oh fuck, that's why she was still hurting. His thing was so gigantic that it bulged and she wanted to see it again and... oh hell, she was a pathetic sex-deprived human being. No one could blame her, right?

"Could you put some pants on please?" Grace muttered and blushed at the same time. 

"Could you?" He chuckled again. "Actually, don’t. I think I much prefer you naked."

Somehow, her face got even hotter as her eyes burned a hole in the floor next to the bed. She ran to the bathroom… or she attempted to run.

She had barely reached the bathroom door when James draped an arm around her waist to haul her against his hard chest, murmuring promptly into her ear.

"You didn’t seem to mind while I was deep inside you last night, sweetheart,"

Grace wasn’t sure what enraged her more. Being mauled by the gigantic man or enjoying the pleasant warmth that washed through her body at being manhandled.

"One more word about that…um-sex- and you’re g-oing to get a lot more up c-close and personal with those b-blades you had in the b-bedside table," she shrieked.

His lips brushed over the curve of her ear, making her pulse leap and proving his complete lack of fear of her threat. She shivered as his teeth lightly scraped down the curve of her neck, swallowing a moan as a thousand pinpricks of emotion she was so familiar with tingled through her.

"A fighter? The more I like it…"

She ignored him and bit her lips instead, which earned James a sweet animalistic growl.

She shivered.

"Scared, little one?"

"Um-"

"You can get up close and emotional with anything you want, sweetheart, but I know you like it when I'm inside you," he muttered, his lips teasing at her skin.

The nerve! "How dare you!"

Yanking free of his grip, Grace seethed into the dark inside of the room, heading toward the semi-lit elegant bathroom.

What was wrong with her? The man was nothing more than a giant, over-smug, obnoxiously jerk pain in her ass. So why did she keep letting him get under her skin?

Because she was a fool.

Gritting her teeth, Grace compelled herself to resist his enormous form leaning against the doorjamb, watching her every move with that too sharp watch. Hell, this was her first, and probably only, chance to definitely enjoy what most women take for granted. She’d be damned if the warden from Hades was going to wreck the moment. The bathroom was pure heaven with a gigantic bathtub that seemed to be calling for her.