Daric's Mate Read online

  Hannah had worked at Temple’s with her father as a teenager, but she hadn’t been involved in the business since she’d left for Vail at the age of eighteen. She had dived in, tried to learn everything she possibly could about the pizzeria, from bookkeeping to making the items on the menu. She had a good manager, and business was just as good as it ever was, but something was…missing. It was as if nothing could fill the gaping hole that was left in the business since her father had died. His laughter, his jokes, his positive attitude and gentle ownership were gone, leaving the pizzeria just…empty, a shell of what it had once been.

  Give yourself time, Hannah. It’s only been eight months. The darkness will lighten eventually. Get this damn order done and go home. You can’t afford to mess this up. Not with Daric Carvillius.

  Hannah shivered as she placed the pizzas in the oven, recalling the low, demanding voice of Temple’s most notorious resident. Daric Carvillius was beyond wealthy, living in an enormous mansion outside of town. Nobody really knew the man, but everyone in Temple knew who he was, and there wasn’t a single person in town who wanted to piss him off. Hannah wasn’t sure if they were in awe of the man…or his money. She’d heard he was a giant, a man who would dwarf her own five-foot-nine height. Personally, she’d never seen him, having left Temple before he moved here, but she had heard tales of his monstrous orders from various small businesses in town, especially the food orders. There wasn’t much to choose from as far as restaurants in town, but Mr. Carvillius seemed to prefer Temple’s, and Hannah wanted to keep it that way. The business turned a profit, being one of the few eateries in town, but she couldn’t afford to screw up with one of her best customers.

  How could any one man consume this much food? And why was he offering so much money just for delivery?

  She shrugged, preparing the massive orders of breadsticks for the oven, reminding herself to add plenty of sauce to the order. She knew the man was eccentric from the information she had gathered over the months. He placed massive orders like this frequently. And he paid. What did it matter why he did it?

  Hannah picked up her pace, working as quickly as she could on her battered leg. Mr. Carvillius had not sounded happy on the phone and she had definitely offended him. She needed to move her ass, try to stay in his good graces.

  Obviously, the man was bossy, used to getting his own way. He might have reminded her of Mark…but he didn’t. Not in the slightest. Mark was whiny, getting his way by manipulation and guilt. Hannah didn’t think that was really Mr. Carvillius’s style. He sounded like a man who got his way by complete domination rather than manipulation.

  God, his voice was sexy.

  He had a low, commanding baritone that had sent tingles of heat throughout her entire body, a voice that meant business, expecting to be obeyed whenever he spoke.

  He probably looks like a sumo wrestler if he eats like this!

  Slamming one of the ovens closed with her hip, she turned and began to start boxing up food. Somehow, she just couldn’t match that voice with the body of a sumo wrestler.

  That’s because his voice made your panties wet.

  Yeah, his voice was most definitely hot. But it wasn’t just his voice; it was the strength she sensed behind the voice.

  Shaking herself slightly, Hannah forced herself to stop fantasizing about her best customer. Seriously, it was ridiculous to read so much into a sexy voice and domineering tone. The man could be an eighty year old bald guy for all she knew.

  Smiling, she began to wrap up the order, her mind more at ease as she pictured a large, sweet old man with a husky voice, waiting for his enormous delivery.

  Yeah. Better.

  It was so much easier to picture Daric Carvillius in a non-threatening way. And so much safer.

  Wiping the memory of that compelling voice from her head, she kept her attention on getting the order correct and keeping Mr. Carvillius’s business in the future.

  *****

  Daric heard the crash over an hour later, the unmistakable sound of twisting metal. He probably shouldn’t have noticed it, wouldn’t have noticed it if he had been human, the howling wind so loud that it drowned out every other sound. But he was vampire, and he had no problem discerning the disturbing noise that filtered through the battering wind.

  He’d been cursing the fact that he had actually called someone to drive through the raging blizzard, an epic storm that he had gleaned information about only after turning on the television to wait for his food. Finally, he had concluded that there was no way someone was coming to deliver. He had basically been waiting for a call from Temple’s telling him that they couldn’t fill his order or they just wouldn’t show.

  The area had been pounded with snow throughout the day and evening, visibility almost nil.

  Barefoot, dressed in nothing more than a ragged pair of jeans, Daric crashed out his front door, letting loose a string of profanities as he plowed down his front porch.

  “Fuck!” He waded through waist-deep snow, disparaging himself for not feeding. He was so fucking weak, so depleted. If he had fed, he could have been to the car right now, teleporting himself there in less than a heartbeat.

  “I can’t believe someone actually attempted to come way the hell out here. What kind of fool human actually drove the three miles from town to deliver pizza?” he growled, propelling his massive body through the snowdrifts.

  Once Daric arrived at his long, winding driveway, the snow was lighter, the wind blowing the powdery flakes toward the accumulations already present in his front yard, forming massive drifts. Still, there was plenty of the white stuff in his driveway, way too much for anyone to be on the roads that were certain to be exactly the same way.

  He found the disabled truck in the gully. It looked like the vehicle had slid off his driveway, plunging down about thirty feet head-on into a tree.

  Starting the descent on his feet, he ended up on his ass, sliding down the incline until he reached the battered vehicle. He wrenched open the door, hoping the delivery boy was safe, unharmed.

  Except, the delivery person was definitely not a boy, and she was out cold. The woman’s head was against the steering wheel, her body unmoving. The truck was old, too ancient to have airbags, and the woman had been virtually unprotected except for her seatbelt, which was securely fastened.

  Daric unlatched the belt, examining her quickly, finding a gash on the left side of her head, obviously a head versus window impact.

  For the first time in his life, Daric felt like a goddamn human, helpless in his weakness, and the feeling infuriated him. What good was he to this woman in his current condition? He put a hand to her wound, resting his palm lightly on her head, using what pathetically small amount of power he had at the moment to assess the damage.

  Pain. Loss. Betrayal. Grief. Sorrow.

  Her emotions and memories pounded him, causing him to grit his teeth to try to control the bombardment.

  “I fucking hate this,” he growled, furious that he had very little control over himself at the moment, his weakness making him unable to focus his magic only on her injuries.

  Relaxing, he let all of her emotions and memories flow over him, stopped trying to fight them. Strangely, her emotions felt familiar. Only hers were more recent, fresher, and much rawer.

  After the initial surge ended, Daric closed his eyes, focusing on her brain, trying to find the cause of her unconsciousness. He saw the crash as it happened, her head flying sideways with the impact, cracking against the window. She had a concussion and a tiny bleed in her brain, just enough that it could become serious. Time was not this woman’s friend right now. She needed care.

  I brought her out here. I did this to her. I should have called Temple’s again. Told them not to send anyone. I just assumed they wouldn’t after I heard the weather.

  Running his hands over her body, he checked for any other life-threatening injuries, running a hand down her spine to make sure she hadn’t suffered any spinal injuries. Humans were s
o fragile, their lives so finite and short. He didn’t want to do anything that could make her injuries worse.

  Smoothing the long, dark hair back from her face, Daric noted that the woman was pretty. And young. Probably no older than her mid-twenties. Shoving his hands under her body, he lifted her from the truck, cradling her against his chest, strangely wanting to protect the fragile, human female after experiencing her sorrow, her loneliness and a barrage of other emotions that made her vulnerable.

  Daric stood in the snow for a moment, not feeling the cold even though his chest and feet were bare, his legs protected only by denim, a fierce look on his face.

  Snow swirled around the two of them, beating at Daric’s massive body, but he ignored it, turning his back to the wind to protect the woman in his arms. He lifted a hand and unzipped her pink ski jacket to her breasts, shoving it aside with a grunt.

  I have to do it. No choice.

  Daric didn’t think about his actions any longer than he had to, knowing that he was doing what he had to do to heal her, his compulsion to heal greater than his repugnance. Letting her head tilt to the side, he lowered his mouth to her delicate neck and let his fangs slide into the soft skin, preparing himself for his initial negative reaction to taking blood.

  His body tense, he drank, trying to be as gentle as possible with the injured woman. As he drew her essence, he waited…

  And waited…

  And waited…

  But the revulsion never came. Instead, her warm blood slid over his tongue like the finest wine, making him suck harder, faster, unable to get enough of this woman’s taste. She was intoxicating, and his muscles bunched and released, his power surged, building until he was at full-strength, yet still wanting more.

  Mine!

  Every nerve in his body on fire, Daric closed the punctures on the woman’s neck with his tongue, savoring the last drop of blood that lingered on her skin.

  Mine!

  His heart ready to pound out of his chest, Daric teleported to his bedroom, laying the woman on his bed. One mental command removed her damp clothing and dried her body, replacing the garments with sheets and a heavy quilt to keep her warm. Vanishing his soaked jeans and underwear with his magic, he crawled under the covers, pulling her body against his while his chest heaved in shock and mortification.

  His large body shuddered as placed his hand on the female’s head. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to concentrate, his palm growing heated as he healed the woman’s head injuries in moments.

  Opening his eyes, his gaze landed possessively on the woman in his arms. He groaned as she began to stir, her bare thigh rubbing lightly against his engorged cock. His dick was fucking sensitive, but he pushed the sensations aside, his main concern the health of his woman.

  My woman. Mine. Fucking Mine.

  The woman squirmed, moaning as her eyelids fluttered. The quilt slipped, revealing a mark that Daric already knew existed somewhere on her creamy skin. He just hadn’t been sure exactly where it was positioned on her body. There, on her left upper arm, was the royal mark, his royal mark. It was small, no larger than the size of a half dollar, but it was vibrant against her ivory skin, a Celtic knot in a perfect circle that had the Carvillius royal sword over the top of the marking. He turned his arm, looking at the exact same marking on his right forearm. It was vibrant, just like hers, glowing with a brilliance he had never seen before.

  This woman belongs to me.

  Momentarily forgetting that he never wanted a mate, Daric was swamped with fierce possessiveness, an emotion he had never truly experienced, and it nailed him right in the gut.

  He froze as his gaze was compelled back to her face, finding her eyes open and looking at him in complete confusion. Green. Her eyes were the color of the sweeping pastures of the Emerald Isle, and just as stunning, keeping Daric prisoner, completely mesmerized.

  Finally, he blinked, only to open his eyes to the same beguiling face, the same ferocious need rolling over his massive body.

  Holy Shit!

  Like it or not, whether he wanted it or not, Daric Carvillius, Prince of the Vampire Healers, had just found his mate.

  Chapter 3

  Hannah stared at the formidable male face before her eyes in fascinated horror.

  What the hell?

  She shook her head slowly, blinking to try to clear her mind. The last thing she remembered was trying to plow her ancient truck through the snow-covered roads to get to Daric Carvillius’s place.

  I made it. I turned into his driveway.

  Barely. She remembered the turn. Her heart started to race as she remembered losing control of the truck on a slippery patch of ice, her panic as she realized there was nothing she could do to stop her truck from plunging down the incline on the right side of the driveway, and then…nothing.

  Until she had opened her eyes a few moments ago, seeing this dark-haired male, this dark-eyed savage face in front of her, a face that frankly scared the hell out of her.

  Realizing that she was in a bed that was definitely not her own, Hannah started moving backward, trying to scoot away from the man who had her clutched against his massive - really massive - chest. “Where am I?” She tried again to move away, but his enormous, muscular arms tightened around her, not allowing her to move away from him. “What happened?” She knew her voice sounded panicked, but hell, she was panicked, and working on hysterical. A rare occurrence for her, since she’d never been the hysterical type.

  I’m naked!

  Her bare body rubbed against his, skin to skin, one of his massive legs between hers.

  He’s naked!

  Struggling in earnest, Hannah pushed against his muscular chest, feeling like a fly swatting at an elephant. The man was pure muscle and strength, and she was no match for him, even if she wasn’t exactly petite. “Let go. What the hell happened? Why are we naked?” Why are you so aroused? Really, she was more interested in the answer to the last question, the one that she hadn’t spoken aloud.

  His rock hard member rubbed against her pelvis as she wriggled, trying to get out of his grip.

  “Stop!” His command was issued in a harsh voice that obviously expected to be obeyed. “You’ll hurt yourself. You were injured. I brought you here. I’m not trying to hurt you, woman.”

  Oh, God. It was him, the owner of the panty-melting baritone. “Mr. Carvillius?”

  “Daric,” he replied with a low grunt.

  Relief flooded her body and she stopped struggling. “Why are we in bed naked? You can let go of me now. I think I’m all right.” She didn’t know why in the hell she was here, but she felt fine. Maybe she had been hypothermic and he had needed to get her warm. Obviously he had rescued her. “What happened?”

  Hannah pulled away slowly, as the bunched muscles in Daric’s arms relaxed. He still looked fierce, and dangerous.

  The man behind the voice was just as sexy as his baritone. Daric Carvillius was huge, but he was all muscle, his bulk a mountain of raw power. Hannah nearly salivated as the quilt slipped away from his body, stopping at his hips, uncovering a set of ripped abs like she had never seen before. Her eyes devoured him, drank him in, as she moved slowly away from him on the massive bed.

  Definitely not an old man. And he looked anything but sweet.

  Mid thirties…maybe, and everything about him was menacing. His black hair was so short it nearly spiked and he had a serious five o’clock shadow, tantalizing dark whiskers that made her want to reach out to stroke his face just to feel the abrasive stubble against her palm.

  Clenching her fingers into a fist to overcome the temptation to touch him, Hannah backed away a little more, swearing she could almost feel a pulsating power coming from his body.

  “You had a head injury. I healed you.” His tone was husky, his eyes never leaving her as they wandered over her face.

  Lord, this man is intense. Really intense.

  Her nipples tightened painfully into tiny pebbles, a reaction that had nothing to do with bei
ng cold. In fact, she had the sudden compulsion to fan herself. “Are you a doctor?” she questioned, knowing enough from her training for ski patrol that healing a head injury wasn’t exactly simple.

  “No. I’m a healer.” His eyes grew liquid, heated.

  Hannah started to pull the sheet from the bed to cover her body. While Daric didn’t seem to have any modesty about revealing that hunky form of his, she wasn’t comfortable with flashing her body to a stranger. “What sort of healer?” Getting the sheet loose, she wiggled under the quilt, trying to wrap the cotton under her arms and around her body so she could stand.

  “I’m a vampire healer. Actually, the Prince of the Vampire Healers,” he answered, his tone slightly arrogant, as though he totally believed the insane statement that had popped out of his mouth.

  Holy crap!

  Hannah sprang out of the bed and turned to gape at him, the sheet completely covering her body. Seriously? Was the guy a little touched? Okay…maybe more than a little…obviously he was completely whacked. A vampire? Oh hell, it was just her luck to end up imprisoned with a lunatic. “Um…that’s…uh…nice.” Shit. She didn’t want to piss him off. He might come unglued. Humor him, Hannah.

  His eyes roamed her body, as though he could see beneath the heavy cotton of her hastily-fashioned covering.

  “I can. But I’ll stop if you want me to,” he remarked quietly.

  “Stop what?” She shifted uncomfortably, frantically wondering how to deal with an insane man of his incredible size.