Her expression fell as the blood rushed from her face. “You’re mistaken.”
His hand swept under her hair, cupping the side of her throat possessively and running his thumb along her jaw. “I’ve never been more certain of anything.”
Shallow breaths panted past her lips. “I haven’t dreamed.”
“Because you don’t sleep.”
“I sleep.”
“But never soundly.” He looked into her eyes, daring her to deny this strange connection they shared. “Larissa, you are my mate.”
He closed the distance, but she angled her face away, squeezing her eyes shut. “Please don’t do this, Bishop.”
He stilled, breathing in her unmistakable terror. Was it him or the thought of intimacy?
Reining in his control, he whispered against her ear, “I’ll never hurt you, Larissa. This will be nothing like your past experiences.”
“What do you know of my experiences?” More tears fell. “You know nothing about what I’ve done.”
He twisted away from her, and she slid down the wall. Her soft whimpers gutted him, and he ran a hand over the back of his neck, pinching the developing tension, unsure what to do.
He wanted to be in her head, to see what she was thinking, but she would not appreciate the intrusion. On some level, she had to trust him. He needed to get close enough to prove he was not a threat to her.
Her confused sobs gutted him. “This can’t be happening. Not with you.”
He had no choice but to force his nearness if he ever hoped to bridge this distance. Crouching at her side, he carefully slipped his arms under her shoulders and knees and pulled her to his chest. She stiffened, but he lifted her anyway. “I am not as cruel as you believe me to be.”
“You were there. You married me to him. How long did you know?”
Was it the idea of being mated to him that caused her to weep, or the misconception that he might have known she was his mate when he performed her wedding ceremony? “I didn’t know then. I swear it.”
She shook her head. “How can you even look at me, knowing that… that…”
“None of that matters.” He hugged her close. “The only thing that matters is where we go from here. You’re safe with me, Larissa. I’ll never let another male touch you again.”
Like a child, unable to cope under so many confusing emotions, she shattered in his arms. Each sob tore through him like a freight train, but he refused to let her go.
He rocked her as she cried, stroking her hair and whispering promises that he would never hurt her, and eventually—blissfully—she fell asleep in his arms.
Chapter 16
Cain’s arm swept in front of him in a practiced motion, fingers spread like a fan, causing a gust of wind to clear the newly fallen leaves from the wooded area. He was careful not to disturb the decaying body lying on the ground.
Another female victim, another attack by whatever was haunting in the woods. Cain was now certain the predator was vampire.
The victim’s body was desecrated and bloodless, left alone in the forest like a forgotten rag doll. From what he could deduce, the mortal woman had been hiking. It was never wise to hike alone in these steep hills. To Cain’s thinking, it was plain stupid to do so with a predator on the loose. Still, he sympathized with the victim and any family she may have left behind.
The police would open an investigation once she was reported missing. If she did have loved ones waiting for her, they deserved closure, so he left her body where it would be easily found.
The footprints proved the attacker was shoeless, but the imprints were much smaller than the last set he came across, smaller than any full-grown male’s foot. They pressed lightly into the claylike ground, further proving the attacker was of a small build. The compression showed that the attacker was slight in weight, but the trajectory of the markings showed impressive speed.
While he initially feared this was the work of his uncle at play, he now thought differently. Claw marks on a nearby tree trunk also appeared an unnatural height for a male’s reach. So how had the victim been sexually violated if the attacker was not male?
Examining the scene, he gently moved debris with a long stick. The body stunk like a male predator.
“There it is.” To the left of the victim’s leg was a handprint larger than her own, larger than any female. As he now feared, more than one predator was lurking in the woods.
Careful not to leave any trail of evidence leading the police closer to the truth, he retraced his steps and covered any hint of his presence with a light rain.
English technologies relied on DNA and fingerprints. An immortal’s fingerprints were different from mortals because they did not age and rapidly healed, so their skin did not wrinkle.