She looked into his amber-soaked eyes--a vampire's hungering eyes--and saw a flood of raw emotion swelling up inside him. "There are a thousand things I want to say to you, Claire. Promises I wish I could make you. But I've taken this too far with Roth now. I've ignited a war with him that's not going to be extinguished until one or the other of us goes down in flames. I don't want it to be me, but I'm not about to shrink away from any conflagration still to come." God help her, she didn't want to forgive him right now--not for coming back into her life, not for reminding her so vividly that she'd never stopped loving him, and most certainly not for the prospect of losing him again after having been given such an extraordinary taste of happiness. But when he carried her fingers to his lips with tender care and total reverence, Claire's anger and fear melted beneath his touch. And when he kissed the heart of her palm, then lavished the same soft worship on her mouth, she was lost to him completely. She didn't even try to resist as he drew back, panting and wild, before stripping them both of their clothing in the middle of the compound's sacred chapel. His kisses grew more demanding, more savage. She reveled in his passion, her breath catching as he lifted her legs around his waist and kissed her ever deeper. He impaled her on him in a long, hard thrust, capturing her sharp gasp of pleasure with his mouth. Then he was moving with her, flesh on flesh, as he carried her with the swift speed and strength that marked him as something more than human. Claire felt the chill of firm, carved stone come up against her na**d back. And riding at the spread juncture of her thighs, she felt the warmth of rigid, hot flesh filling her so deeply, so deliciously. Andreas held her in a tight grasp as he drove into her, his tempo aggressive and unapologetic.
Claire understood his need. She felt it, too. She welcomed every crushing thrust, every furious pound and cruel withdrawal. She wanted to hear him shout his release, even if it betrayed their passion to the entire compound. She didn't care about anything else but him, and the shattering plea sure of their bodies joined together for what she prayed would not be the last time. "Fuck me," she whispered against his ear as he rocked his h*ps against her in a more urgent rhythm.
"Oh, God, Andre ... I need to feel this. Please, don't stop." With a snarl, he rode her harder, taking her to a level of cl**ax she didn't know existed. Claire broke apart with a muffled cry, burying her face in his shoulder as her body contracted around him in a great, shuddering rush of sensation. He came along with her, huffing a dark curse as he bucked his pelvis tight against her and held her close, swamping her core with the hot, exploding rush of his release.
Reichen released Claire's thighs and gently placed her feet back down on solid ground. He was shaking with the aftershocks of his release, but even more so from the pounding need to bury his fangs in her tender neck. He'd never felt more alive than when he was with Claire. Being with her only amplified what a farce he'd been living all the years they'd been apart. After the curse of his pyrokinesis made itself known to him, he had been so careful to hold everyone at a distance. He'd bricked up his heart behind fortress-thick walls. But not with Claire. She had somehow worked her way into the fiber of who he was and who he one day hoped he could be. He was her mate in all the ways that mattered.
But not in the one way that she needed. He shouldn't have done this with her--for a dozen reasons and then some. Not the least of which being that it wasn't going to change his mind about going after Roth. She knew that, too. He could see it in her eyes, as she stood before him with flushed cheeks and dark brown eyes gone even duskier for the velvety blackness of her passion-drenched pupils. "Have you already spoken with them about how you mean to help the Order?" No sense in trying to shield her from the truth when it was plain that she still knew him better than anyone else ever had. Or ever would. "Tegan and I discussed a few things on the way back in tonight. Starting tomorrow evening, I'll be joining the patrols in place of the warrior that was injured. Since we now know Roth is in Boston, we'll be sweeping the city with an eye on locating him, as well." She nodded briefly, then moved past him to collect her clothes. She dressed expediently, hastily, as if she couldn't get away from him fast enough now.
Reichen gave a feeble shake of his head, lost for the right words. "I'm sorry, Claire." "I know," she replied quietly. "I'm sorry, too." He didn't try to stop her as she walked out of the chapel and disappeared down the winding corridor. As hard as it was to keep his feet rooted to the floor, he stood there as still as a statue, until he was certain she was gone. Then he dropped back down onto his knees and continued to pray for the strength he would need to see his vengeance through to its necessary end.
Chapter Twenty-One
It was sometime after daybreak when Claire stood outside the shower in her compound quarters and reached in to turn on the water. She stared, unseeing, into the warm mist that began to rise on the other side of the glass. She was losing him again. Again, because of Wilhelm Roth. Cold all over when she thought of everything Roth had already taken from Andreas, and from her, she stepped under the steaming spray and stood there, trembling from the chill that permeated down into her bones. In just a few hours, the sun would be setting again and Andreas would be joining the Order on their combat patrols--heading right into the very city where Roth was now. Heading potentially into death. He'd made it very clear that nothing she said would keep him from lending his help to the Order. Just as nothing would stop him from pursuing the justice he felt he needed, no matter the cost to him. Or the cost to the love they were rediscovering after being kept so long apart. At least this time he wasn't walking away without any explanation at all. He had his reasons. Good, noble reasons. None of which made the truth any easier to accept. Some desperate, selfish part of her had wanted to run back immediately to the Order's chapel and beg him to reconsider. She would offer him anything.