by Kyle, Celia
The crease on his brow returned. “Disappoint— Oh, agapiménos.”
Sara didn’t have a clue what agapiménos meant, but the way he kissed her made it obvious. Beloved. Someone standing nearby cleared his throat and Orrin broke their embrace, reluctantly.
“Not even a tiny part of me is disappointed, agapiménos. I just don’t understand how you could be mine without me knowing it.”
“Actually, it would explain everything, Master,” said the man who’d suggested they take their conversation to a private room. Smart man. Sara was curious to hear his explanation for this mess.
“What do you mean, Thayne?”
“It’s very rare for a vampire to find more than one beloved. Almost unheard of, but not impossible. Clearly.” He nodded to them and smiled gently. “That explains why you didn’t realize who this young woman was to you. And her being a witch… well, it’s no wonder she didn’t know.”
Sara wondered if she should be insulted but then decided she didn’t care. She’d found her way back into Orrin’s arms and nothing else mattered. It had all been one colossal, cosmic fuck-up. No one’s fault, nothing to be angry over. All that remained was joy. And one very hard cock that she couldn’t wait to get her hands on.
“I think we can all agree you haven’t been yourself since the night of Deo’s wedding, sir. Your lack of sleep and appetite would explain everything. You’ve been craving your beloved, sir. That’s why you haven’t been feeding.”
Sara looked at Orrin, really looked. In her rage, she’d dismissed his gray skin and weight loss, but now that she knew he hadn’t fed properly in two weeks, she nearly cried. No wonder he looked so frail.
“You see, Miss…”
“Sara Hart.”
“You see Miss Hart, once a vampire claims a beloved, only their blood tastes good. Everything else pales in comparison. Since Master Nicolaides has claimed you, yours is the only blood that will satisfy him.”
Resolve seeped into Sara’s bones. They still had issues to figure out—namely, how to proceed from here—but that couldn’t be done until Orrin was feeling better. And the only way for that to happen was for him to feed.
“Come on,” she said, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the ballroom.
“Where to?” he asked, trailing along limply. He really had lost all of his energy.
“I dunno, but we can figure it out as we go along, just like everything else. Right now, you need to feed. And there’s no way in hell I’m gonna let you feed on anyone else but me.”
Chapter Seven
Orrin’s ravenous appetite demanded he take Sara into his arms and drink from her. Now! Weeks had passed since he’d felt sated, and his body and mind had suffered for it. But control was a point of pride for him. He hadn’t been able to control himself with Sara the night they’d met, but by the blood, when his fangs next touched her neck, it would only be with her explicit permission—a courtesy he’d failed to give her before.
Of course, he couldn’t exactly regret that. If he hadn’t, he might have spent the rest of eternity denying that she could possibly be his beloved. What a miserable, lonely life that would have been.
It was still possible that’s what his life would look like. Sara could reject him and their bond, and she’d probably live a normal, happy life. But Orrin would know only torment from that moment on. He’d wither away into a shadow of his former glory, living forever with perpetual hunger and the pain of unrequited love.
But the fact her warm hand gripped his gave him hope that she could forgive him, that she could accept him and their connection, and that she’d agree to rule Clan Nicolaides by his side.
She stopped in the enormous marble-floored foyer and looked to him, ignoring the hundreds of people watching their every move. “Where?”
Though the climb seemed impossible to him in his weakened state, he nodded toward the long, curving staircase. She moved slowly, guiding him up, step by step, until they reached the landing. Without hesitation, Sara opened the first door she came to and pulled him inside.
Orrin hadn’t stepped foot in the guest room in close to a century, but his staff had kept it impeccably maintained. It didn’t even smell musty, not that he could smell much of anything besides Sara. His fangs had already unsheathed and they tingled in anticipation, but he restrained himself, waiting for her.
She whistled low as her wide eyes took in the majesty of the room. “Wow, is this the master suite?”
“No, just a guest room.”
“Just,” she snorted, moving slowly around the room and letting her fingers trail across the priceless furnishings.
He waited patiently for her, giving her as much time as she needed to process everything that had happened. Hell, he needed some time too, but he couldn’t afford to take too much, not with the way his stomach was rumbling.
“Good grief, you must be famished,” she said at the sound, a mix of worry and amusement dancing in her eyes. “Here, drink.”
She tipped her head and exposed the claiming mark he hadn’t even known he’d made. What little blood remained in his system pumped hard at the sight and he pulled her into his arms. Dipping his head, he let his lips brush against the scar, sending a shiver rippling through her body.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice hoarse and almost unrecognizable to himself.
“Oh god, yes,” she breathed, her body tense and ready.
Orrin didn’t need to be told twice. Hot, delicious blood poured into his mouth as his fangs slipped into the scars like a hand into a glove. A perfect fit, and his alone.
Sara clutched his shoulders and moaned as he drank. With each gulp, his strength grew and soon he was holding up her trembling frame. He could have kept going, he wanted to keep going, but he’d never do anything to harm her.
Sara.
His beloved.
Retracting his fangs from their new home, he licked the wound until the blood stopped and she was left panting in his arms. “Are you okay?”
“Mmm,” she moaned softly, snaking her arms around his neck. “Have you fed enough?”
Burying is face in her neck, he breathed her in. “From you? Never, agapiménos. Never, my beloved.”
* * *
Sara nearly came at the sound of Orrin’s husky voice calling her his beloved, and she threw aside any pretense of anger. They could talk later. Right now, she needed him, maybe even more than he needed her.
Claiming his lips, she tasted her own blood on his tongue, and she realized what a powerful aphrodisiac it was. Slowly, languorously, she explored the depths of his mouth, searching out every last droplet and wishing she could drink from him too. Alas, she was only a witch, and not a very powerful one at that.
Breaking their kiss, she gazed into his dark eyes and saw the passion blazing in them. But she saw more than simple desire. There was also adoration, devotion, and dare she think it, love. The very same emotions filled her own heart, and she wondered how they’d missed it before.
Orrin was her resonate!
No wonder she hadn’t been sleeping. Her body craved him, called for him, needed him, yet her brain had denied it. She had no idea why and it didn’t matter, not in this moment when they were coming together as one. Talking could wait. Right now, they both had more important things on their minds.
Orrin stooped and lifted her in his arms, never breaking their kiss. The color had returned to his face and his heart beat strong against his breastbone. She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, but he laid her on the bed before she could expose more than an inch or two of flesh.
“Awww,” she whined, lifting herself onto her elbows.
“Don’t worry, agapiménos. I promise you will get everything you want.”
Using his weird vampiric speed, Orrin undressed faster than she could blink and was lying on the bed next to her a heartbeat later. His hands made quick work of her clothes—taking more care this time to not destroy them—and then they slowed down. Torturously slow.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
This time his lips were soft, barely brushing against hers, even in her desperation. The heat from his breath tightened her nipples and she arched against his hand. Sparkles burst behind her closed eyelids as an explosion racked her body, convulsing every muscle and setting every nerve ending on fire.
Her soul cried his name, over and over, even as his fingers continued playing her like that damn violin, drawing out her climax into what seemed like eternity. Before her spasms slowed, he wedged himself between her thighs and plunged so deeply inside of her, she came again. And again. And again.
Each powerful thrust sent her higher into the stratosphere, her soul spinning like a tornado with Orrin’s, blending into one glowing column of light and harmony. They left their corporeal bodies behind and danced in the swirling colors of a supernova until he cried her name loudly enough for the entire universe to hear.
They slammed back into their sweaty, heaving bodies just as Orrin’s fangs pierced her neck again, and this time she knew. They were forever, inextricably linked in a way she’d never imagined possible. How she’d missed it the first time, she might never understand, but she knew it now, and that was all that mattered.
When they finally lay wrapped in each other’s embrace, panting from the exertion, Sara snuggled into her resonate’s side and smiled. “Wow.”
His chest bobbed with a chuckle. “You can say that again.”
“Wow,” she complied with a giggle.
Orrin looked down, his smile fading. “Sara, I hope you can forgive me.”
“For what? Blowing my mind? Again?”
“No, for claiming you without your knowledge. I promise you I didn’t know you were…”
She propped herself up on one elbow and grew just as serious as Orrin. “I believe you, but… How is it possible you didn’t know?”
He looked thoughtful for a minute before answering. “I think I was in denial. I mean, I never thought it would be possible for me to find another beloved, so I suppose my mind rejected what my body was trying to tell it. When I couldn’t feed properly, I guess my thoughts became muddied so I never made the connection.”
“I get that. I didn’t recognize you as my resonate either.”
She chewed on her lip, unsure if she should tell him what else was on her mind. He reached up and brushed a damp tendril of hair off her cheek.
“What is it, agapiménos? You can tell—or ask—me anything.”
“Okay, here goes.” She took a deep bracing breath. “Are you ashamed of me?”
Orrin blinked in surprise. “Ashamed?”
Sara looked around the room at all the finery she’d never seen up close before. “This is completely foreign to me, Orrin. Galas and status and money…” She sighed. “I grew up poor. I’m just a receptionist with very few prospects for advancement. And I’m a witch, not a very powerful one at that.”
“So?”
“So… all the female vampires you invited to this little shindig of yours were the crustiest of the upper crust. I’m a speck of dirt on their thousand-dollar shoes. Not exactly who a master of a vampire clan would choose as an appropriate mate.”
Orrin pulled her back into his arms and kissed the top of her head. She took that as a good sign and snuggled in, but she still wanted to hear his thoughts.
“Agapiménos, none of that matters. Not anymore. I was stupid to think it did in the first place, but I believe that was just part of my denial. It was just a way to protect myself from being hurt again.”
“Hurt? I’d never hurt you, Orrin.” How could he even think it after what they’d just shared?
He remained quiet and still for a very long time, his fingers skimming the length of her arm. When he spoke, his voice was so quiet, she almost didn’t hear his words.
“You could die.”
Of course! He’d lost his beloved and child many years earlier, which meant Bryna hadn’t been a vampire either. And now his second beloved was also mortal. Sara’s heart ached at how worried he must be at the possibility—no, certainty—she would one day leave him forever. Unless…
“Then turn me,” she said, with all the certainty she possessed.
He pulled back to look at her. “What?”
“Turn me. Change me into a vampire.”
“Y-you would do that? For me?”
Sara reached up to kiss him. “Of course. I can’t think of anything I want more than to be with you forever, my love.”
Doubt lingered in his eyes but was finally chased away by her smile. Then Orrin smiled and his fangs slipped from their sheaths.
* * *
Did you enjoy Vampire Reunion? Not quite ready to let go of these characters? We couldn’t let them go either so we wrote a fun bonus scene for you guys and you can get it FREE here: https://realmenromance.com/oc4bonus/
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from book 1 in the Real Men of Wildridge series, His Fiery Kiss…
https://realmenromance.com/hisfierykiss-amazon
Elissa stared out the front windshield, head tilted back against the headrest, a mix of pure boredom and annoyance coursing through her. She heaved a sigh, her chest rising and falling with the deep breath. She was so bored she stared at the reflection of the moon in a puddle a few yards from where she’d parked. Could her shifter-enhanced eyesight allow her to see the movement of the moon as it crossed the sky while hours passed? Watching the moon… the shifter version of watching paint dry. Ugh.
She glanced at the glowing green digital clock on the console. One in the morning. She wondered if this was the time people considered the witching hour. It certainly didn’t feel extra-magical to her. Not right now. Not while everything was too still, too expected.
The neighborhood was one of the nicest areas Elissa had ever set foot in. Tall, broad, majestic houses with historical significance—or simply elitist investments—loomed on either side of the street. Every yard was impeccably manicured, with vivid flower gardens and grass so bright green and healthy it appeared almost fake. Elissa thought that was a pretty fitting description of the people who lived out here—too perfect to be real. Of course, in the city of Los Angeles, what else could one expect?
She had come into the evening worried about what might transpire, but as the minutes ticked on and she grew more bored, Elissa had begun to almost hope something would happen. Anything to break up the silence and the tension that had settled over the vehicle like a thick veil. She rolled her eyes and looked over at her father sitting behind the steering wheel, a stoic expression on his wrinkle-lined face. Elissa wanted to reach out and nudge his shoulder, but she could tell he was deep in thought, miles and miles away.
“Dad,” she groaned plaintively, “where the hell is this guy?” It seemed like they’d been waiting for her father’s contact forever.
He seemed to shake himself out of his reverie, but still did not turn to face her when he replied, in a low, calm voice, “I don’t know, Elissa. He just told me to be at this address at one o’clock sharp because his car broke down and he needed a ride.”
Elissa arched a single brow. “Well, I don’t see a broken-down car anywhere. Besides, anyone who lives out here can surely afford a rental car. Why the hell would a guy from this neighborhood need a ride from us?” she pointed out. “In fact, I never would have guessed one of your friends would live in a nice place like this.”
Because, real talk, the hoity-toity neighborhood didn’t look like it would welcome ex-cons like her dad.
“I never would have expected that either,” her father
, Cray, replied. “But you gotta be patient, all right? I won’t keep you here all night or anything.”
“I hope not. I do have a job to get to in the morning, you know,” she snipped.
Cray smiled with a twist of his lips, flashing a hint of fang, wholly unbothered by her barbs. “I would have thought you might like doing this. Consider it practice for a real stake-out,” he remarked.
Elissa snorted. “Yeah, as if my editor would ever give me a story that required a stake-out,” she sighed. “I wish. But nope, he just dumped me into the ‘community happenings’ column and called it a day.”
“Community happenings? That sounds pretty important to me.”
Elissa shrugged and went back to watching the moon continue its trek. “Trust me, it’s all puff pieces about cats getting stuck in trees or this mind-numbing spotlight on Wildridge Security.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, this guy we’re waiting on has some dirt on Wildridge Security you should be able to use in your article,” Cray reminded her.
“Yeah, but it makes me nervous that you don’t know what that dirt is,” she returned.
“All news is good news, right?”
Elissa shook her head. “That’s not how the saying goes, Dad.”
“Eh, close enough. Besides, you’re the writer, not me,” he flashed another grin and winked.
“Oh, so they didn’t teach you journalism in prison?” she spoke with a little more snark than she intended. Luckily, her father seemed to be in a calm enough mood to ignore her tone.
“No, but I’m just grateful to have been placed at San Diego, instead of Los Angeles,” he replied with a slow shake of his head. “That’s where the real degenerates are sent.”
“Yeah, and we all know you’re not a degenerate,” Elissa quipped with a twist of her lips.
Her father smiled, well accustomed to her sass. “Burglary is hardly first-degree murder, Liss. I would never have fit in with the… the crowd at Los Angeles. I’m lucky to have scraped by as well as I did in there,” said Cray. “I’m pleased to be out now. Breathing the free air. I’m reformed now, Liss. I’m going straight.”