~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Keira had witnessed death, killed supers, felt otherworldly addiction, but she was completely unprepared for this. Even after putting aside Davyn’s physical perfection—No, wait, she wanted to dwell on that a little. Every muscle was contracted, defining themselves individually with every motion of his hand. His hand…
What she wouldn’t give to feel what his hand was feeling. What she wouldn’t give to touch his cock, taste him instead of wonder and dream about it.
Her mind was blurry, her eyes tired from clenching and rolling back into her head during her last orgasm, dry from not blinking. She didn’t want to miss a moment, the expression on his face as he pleasured himself, looking at her. Until he shook his head and closed his eyes.
She sat back on her haunches, ready to beg him, completely subjugate herself in front of him. But he spoke before she could.
“If I look at you, I’m going to come.”
“Then look at me.”
He groaned again, his fist sliding over his erection faster. “This was a bad idea.”
“Why?”
“Because…I want it to be your hand, your mouth.” The words were spoken in rhythm with his strokes. “I want to feel you come while I’m inside you.”
She saw desperation in his eyes when they opened.
“Lie down,” he said, his movements slowing as he lowered himself to his knees. “Lie down and don’t move a fucking muscle.”
Nodding like a crazy person, she leaned backwards, stretching her legs out in front of her, arching her back when it touched the cool floor. Her body was tense, not from fear but from anticipation, hope, need. Resting on her forearms so she wouldn’t lose eye contact with him, she spread her knees and watched him come closer. So damn slowly.
“Can you please hurry up?” she whined. “I’m dying over here.”
He stopped completely and studied her. “Using your mouth to speak involves multiple muscles; therefore, it very clearly falls under the ‘Don’t. Fucking. Move.’ rule.” She might have said something back if she didn’t know how much he was struggling. Not to mention that pissing him off could lead him to get up and go away, and she couldn’t let that happen. So she’d shut up—for now—and wait to see what he had planned.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Davyn let go of his cock as he climbed up her small frame, the need to touch her body more powerful than touching his own. Her orgasm more important than his. He dragged his lips across her skin. Since he couldn’t get a grip of her with his teeth, he used his tongue, up her calves to her knees, then her thighs.
Oh, fuck. This kind of softness shouldn’t exist, even on earth. Her muscles tightened as he moved to the inside of her thighs. Closer.
She moaned when his try-to-stay-under-control breath hit her core. “You’re so warm.”
And things were about to get hotter. He caressed her, experimenting with pressure and speed, watching her quiver, listening to her beg him for more.
When his mouth touched down, he knew he’d never be the same. Not because there was a good chance he could come from her taste alone. Well, not only that.
But because he’d been wrong for centuries—flight wasn’t what he wanted. She was. This. This right here was. Being above the clouds, able to look down on the world, to be close to the Great Beyond…
All were nothing compared to her taste on his tongue, her heat on his lips. He drew his fingers from her and put them in his mouth because he couldn’t waste any of her, any of this moment.
The way she moaned, squirmed, and said his name taught him how to touch and take care of her. His goal only to make her feel what he was feeling even without her hands on him. He laughed when her thighs clenched, trapping him between them. As if he would leave before she’d collapsed from satisfaction. Then, maybe he’d be able to stop.
When her leg muscles tightened more, he bit her thigh teasingly and pushed her legs wider apart so he could move freely. Do what he wanted, know he controlled her pleasure. He could give her this, but no more. No matter how tempting it was. And it was—torturously so.
That temptation didn’t go away, not after she pushed him backwards and collapsed, laughing. Not after, with eyes she could barely keep open, she told him to either let her finish him off or do it himself. Not even after she watched him make himself come using his hand still slick with her essence.
He carried her to his bed, lay down beside her and, when she curled into his side and used his chest as her pillow, he didn’t freak out. Neither did the desire go away. If anything, it increased its hold over him. Because he wanted nothing more than to find a way he could have this—her—every day for the rest of forever.
Twenty-Seven
Wow and oh shit. Most satisfying night of Keira’s life and, without a doubt, also the most frustrating. For both of them. Surprisingly, she could still walk home. Her wrists still burned from where he’d held them. Preventing her from going for his pants meant he had to spend a lot of time holding her down. Which made her want to go for his pants even more.
She laughed to herself, and at herself, the whole trip home, only stopping for a few bouts of minor hyperventilation whenever she felt herself get emotional. An orgasm can do that to a woman, and as many orgasms as she’d had last night and this morning were probably enough to do that to a woman like Keira.
And she thought her life had been screwed up before. Now the most attractive guy she’d ever seen craved her, overly satisfied her, but barely let her touch him, especially not when he was close to finishing. Although he never actually seemed to be finished because a few minutes later he’d be ready to start over.
Almost twenty-four hours with one goal and no expectations that she’d return all his favors. He’d probably have done it for anyone.
Right? Yeah, probably.
No. No way in hell would he have done that for anyone, so what exactly was supposed to happen now?
By the time she reached the fifth floor of her building, she’d almost convinced herself it didn’t mean anything to him. He lived for temptation, and what greater temptation than a buck-naked human begging for his cock?
She unlocked the door and slipped her jacket off, looking down at herself and laughing again. Since her clothes had been ruined, he’d lent her a t-shirt that hung to mid-thigh and fit her like a muumuu.
“Real attractive.”
After a single step into her apartment, the muscles along her spine spasmed. The makeshift drapes she’d stapled to the window frame were closed. She never left them like that. The only time she didn’t love sunshine was after hunting all night and needing to sleep. She hadn’t gone out at night for a while because she’d been…distracted. That distraction had made her lax, just like she’d warned herself it would.
When she heard the creak of the door, she ducked low and spun, only realizing her mistake when she felt dagger-like fingernails gouge the back of her head. She pulled away hard. Some of her hair ripped out by the root, but Lamere kept hold of the bulk of it.
She would’ve kept moving, scalping herself if she had to, but his grip was too tight, only lessening slightly when his other hand wrapped around the front of her throat, cutting off her air, slowly and delicately strangling her.
“Shh, chérie.” His cooing brought back every horror he’d made her live through. “It’s only me.”
Only him? The only creature she lived in fear of and wanted dead more than anything else on earth. So this moment wouldn’t be happening. His grip on her throat wouldn’t be so damn agonizing.
“I am very disappointed in you, Keira. You keep me waiting since before dawn and come home like this?” He kept the pressure on her throat, ignoring her nails digging into his skin. She could never overpower him, never hurt him, or have control over anything. He wrapped his other hand around both her wrists and brought them together, leaving her completely immobilized.
Even though she couldn’t get free, Lamere still didn’t relax his grip. He made her fight for each bit o
f air, her throat raw from sucking desperate breaths. Her strength gave out when she heard her muffled cry for death. If he were human, she might—big might—have been able to fight him off or even run away. But she doubted he’d ever been human, even while he was alive.
She scrambled to keep up as he dragged her into the living room, knowing if she didn’t, if she stumbled, he wouldn’t let go. The weight of her own body would crack her neck. And he’d be angry with her. She wasn’t sure which she preferred—his wrath or her death.
“I will let you go when you are kinder to me.” He would never let her go—she knew that. But she stood no chance of getting herself out if she couldn’t breathe, so she nodded, in theory at least, since she couldn’t actually move. “Good girl.” He smiled and released her just enough for her to get one deep breath. When she started coughing, he dropped her and stepped back, looking disgusted by her weakness.
“Are you finished?”
“You tell me.” The bitterness of her laugh stung so badly, her tears multiplied. She put her hands on her knees and hid her face from him, focusing on each breath, preparing herself for the moment they stopped. She’d always imagined it happening fast, no time to think or cry or regret. Time for that last breath of life and then thanks for stopping by this world, see you in the next one.
She fought against his grip when he lifted her chin. He won. Like always.
“It is a good thing I came to you now,” he said, grimacing. “You reek of demon. Ma belle, you should not have allowed him to touch you.”
“You’re right.” She pulled away from his hand. “I should’ve let him fuck me.” The slap echoed like thunder and felt like a lightning strike.
Before she’d even registered she was on the ground, he hauled her back up. “Don’t be disgusting.”
“Just kill me already.”
“Why would I kill something I enjoy? When she is not doing vile things with a being who will never deserve her.” He ignored her bitter laugh at the irony. “I will not kill you. After I have turned you, you will understand how far beneath you that demon is, how sharing yourself with him would ruin our future together. You are mine—body and soul—and I will not share either part of you with him. You will be happy living so much closer to my level of being, chérie.”
“No, you can’t.” As a vampire, she’d see blood all the time, need it even more than she did now. She’d become something like Lamere. “No.”
He held her head so tightly she couldn’t move. His arm snaked around her body, pinning her arms to her sides, useless.
“Please,” she said. “I’ll be better than I was before. Whatever you want. Please, sir, don’t turn me.” Begging wouldn’t do anything but make him happy. Right. Make him happy. She knew how to do that. “I’ll heal faster if you turn me. It won’t be the same as before, as when you kept me.”
His fangs scratched her throat, his tongue darting out to taste her. “Even better than I remembered. It’s our blood, ma chérie. The flavor of our blood combined.” He ran his tongue the length of her neck. “I’m still inside you, a part of you even after all this time.”
“Don’t turn me. If I was immortal, I wouldn’t be afraid. I’d heal faster, hurt less.”
“Long ago I wished to have you, but you needed time to prove yourself to me. To prove you are worthy and truly meant to be mine. You hid yourself so long, wasting all that time training a body that was already perfect.”
She swallowed, the moisture soothing her throat. “You were watching me.”
“Admiring,” he corrected. “When it was possible. You have finally proven your strength, not by fighting but by living. You lived while the others did not. You survived to play our game of hide and seek. But your association with the demon showed me your weakness. Human weakness, unbecoming of my mate. Therefore, it is time for you to be with me eternally and become the greatest kind of higher being.”
“A vampire.” Not even if her only other option was the ninth level of hell. But she was out of options. “Wait. I want something first. Before I turn, I want to look at the sun one more time.” She gestured to the large windows that ran the length of the far wall. “You told me once that you miss its heat, feeling its warmth.” For a second, her mind flashed back to him talking about it—while he cleaned her blood off his bare chest, put a flimsy dress back on her after he’d taken what he wanted. “Do you remember?”
“I remember every moment we’ve ever had together, every detail. And we will have so many more.”
She forced the hatred out and focused on a more pleasant memory—Davyn’s heat, like the sun’s but stronger, closer, more beautiful. That’s what she wanted to remember.
“But not of the sun,” she said. “It’s the only thing you can’t have. Once I’m…with you, I’ll have everything but that. Please, just one more time?”
He scowled but nodded. When she moved towards the other room, he reached out and snatched her by the neck again. “This is the same sun, isn’t it?” He shoved her towards the closest window. She hit the glass and yanked the drape down in one motion. Lamere—the lucky bastard—stood at the edge of the shadow, where the sunlight wasn’t direct enough to kill him.
If he’d let her go to the other room, near the fire escape, she might’ve stood a chance. These windows gave her nothing but a terrible view and a five-story drop to the street.
Death comes in threes, and she’d already died twice. But if Lamere sucked the life out of her and filled her with his—tainted, evil, sadistic—she’d put a stake in her own heart the second he turned his back. She’d die a fourth and final time, but not before she took at least one innocent life. Vampires couldn’t stop themselves during that first bloodlust, and Lamere would want her virgin feeding to mean something, to bind them together more than the innate bond of Master and fledgling. She knew he’d choose a woman for her, one that looked like her, was terrified like her. Her family would miss her and mourn her, even though they’d never find her body. Just like Keira’s had. Just like Keira’s were.
An offering, a symbol of Keira’s lost humanity, someone to murder while he watched. Keira would feel the life drain out of the woman, know it was the end for both of them, want to switch places with her, but be powerless and out of control. And it would feel incredible.
She pressed her palms against the glass and looked out, wishing she’d see someone who could help her. Who exactly would that be? Davyn could be anywhere, doing anything. Except worrying this might happen. Something scraped her fingers, bringing her focus to the glass instead of through it. Long, jagged cracks ran from a center point where something about the size of a rock had slammed into it, something small weakening the entire pane. It was dirty, and old, and broken.
And her only escape.
“What do you see?” he snapped when she chuckled.
A way out. The light would only hurt the vampire. But a fall from the fifth floor would kill her, before he turned her into a monster. Lamere would never control her again, and he’d stop killing people because of her. She regretted not being able to end him herself but, once she was out of the way, Davyn wouldn’t have anything holding him back. Maybe he’d even have an extra incentive. He would track Lamere down, he would kill him, and he would be thinking of her when he did it.
“Look at me, chérie. Describe how it feels.”
“The sun?” she asked, not facing him like he wanted. “It feels like peace.” Like the safety and comfort of Davyn’s heat. Except his was from hell, not from above the clouds. Or maybe it was, maybe he was sent by the powers to finally make her warm.
“Look at me.”
After a moment, she did as she was told, even walking towards her destroyer. The distance from the glass put her in a better position to use the momentum to break through.
“How did you get into my apartment?” she asked. “I didn’t invite you in.”
“This will never be your home, chérie. Your home is with me. These are just walls. They hold no power, especi
ally not enough to keep us apart.”
Right. There was only one sure way to keep them apart. As he reached for her, she spun, running with her head tucked in, her shoulder aiming towards the weakest point of the window. The glass shattered when she hit. Her feet lifted off the floor and her body tipped.
Lamere screamed, “No!” and scrambled towards her, catching the edge of her shirt and her wrist, all while keeping himself out of the direct light.
She dug her nails into the skin of his hand, trying to pry it from her wrist. Until she changed her mind, taking hold of him and kicking off the side of the building, shoving backwards so he couldn’t bring her back inside. She held onto his hand with everything she had, praying he would slip and go down with her.
“Why, chérie?” He shook her off as soon as he felt the sun, hissing, the look in his eyes finally matching the innocence of the rest of his face. “Why?” Sadness and confusion. Because he’d lost.
Falling happened at a different speed than living, like the universe slowed everything down just to make absolutely sure Keira understood how close it was to being over. Even though she was supposed to be watching Lamere die, it was okay. Because as long as she saw his face, she didn’t have a chance to imagine the faces of the people she loved, couldn’t watch the rest of her life flash before her eyes. Other than parts of the last few weeks, there was nothing she wanted to relive. She wished she could’ve done more for the people of the Rising. She’d miss them.
And Davyn.
Davyn was the only thing she really wished she could keep living for.
She slammed into something, her back arching around it, her shoulders and legs falling farther and snapping back. She screamed.
“Stop, hunter!” His grip tightened. “Just let me land.”
Everywhere the demon touched her burned, her body instinctively pulling away from the source of the excruciating pain. Even after he set her down, the pain didn’t stop. It was too deep, too much for her body to handle. She crumpled to the ground, curling into a ball to protect herself from heat that had already wounded.
Unearthed Page 24