Hathor’s eyes roamed over his deliciously firm body. Lightly, she whispered, "You look the same, except for your eyes. They are older. They tell the story of your long days."
"I am not the same. What you see is a shell. I would not have you fooled. Do not imagine that you are with that other man. My body is all that remains of the man who walked you in the gardens. He was a boy, a fool who didn’t even know what a vampire was." Servaes chuckled to himself -- a slow, ridiculing laugh.
He dropped his arm, stepping up to her. Before she knew what was happening, he took the empty glass from her loose fingers. He set in on the balcony. Her eyes darted to it in question.
When she turned back to him, her face met with his steady hand. His palm was warm as it cupped her cheek. The pad of his thumb rubbed over her smooth skin.
"You know what is going to happen," he stated boldly. There was no embarrassment or hesitation in his eyes. He spoke like he only confirmed a well-known fact. "You cannot deny me or escape it. I will have you. I will possess your body."
"I --" She tried to deny him, but couldn’t find the words. You want my body, my blood, but what of my heart? Do you no longer care anything for that?
The idea broke through her spirit, but she couldn’t stop his quest as he touched her. His fingers brushed over her lips, silencing any plea. There was so much pain in his touch, and yet she couldn’t pull away from it. Slowly, he shook his head.
"No, chéri," he broke in. "There is nothing you can say to change it. Do not fight me. If you let yourself, you will enjoy my touch."
She gasped, enraptured completely by the spell in his eyes. His words were full of husky promise. Her body screamed at her to kiss him, to give herself over to the beast completely. Her limbs begged her to believe him, to hold him and touch him. But her mind trembled, unable to give away the control. She was frightened of him. Her heart hammered in her chest, protesting the fact that it was so thoroughly ignored by his words. Her eyes unexpectedly welled with tears. She tried to pull away. Her feet wouldn’t move. His gaze held her captive, puzzled, as he took in every nuance of her resistance.
"The maids finished their work today," she said, desperate to change the subject. "They will not disturb you again."
Servaes continued to study her. His body drew closer. He could smell her tentative longing. He could detect the frantic beating of her heart, her deepened breath. He saw her eyes try to draw away only to get caught back up in his gaze -- just as he knew he held no power over her to make her react to him thus. Her response was her own, pure and unforced.
"Are you frightened?" he questioned with sudden insight. He knew her to be nervous, but the look he caught filtering briefly in her eyes went beyond apprehension. She was deeply terrified.
Gulping, Hathor nodded, unable to lie.
"Open your mind to me," Servaes murmured in a persuasive plea. His accent floated around her in temptation. The fog of his words was a palpable mist around her head. "Give me your thoughts. I can take away the fear."
"I don’t want you to," she answered honestly. "I like to feel."
"Are you afraid that I am not shaped like human men?" he asked, knowing it to be a natural apprehension she might have. He was a creature after all.
She pondered his words before shaking her head in denial. The thought hadn’t really occurred to her. She just assumed he was equipped the same.
"There was a time when innocence was not as rare," he said gently. His eyes bore into her in wonderment. Carefully, he whispered, "But surely, chéri, in this day and age you have been with a man before. It is very much the same -- only better. Of that I can promise. I will not hurt you. I will not be too rough. I will be able to read your body better than any lover in the past. I will be able to give you what you want."
But I don’t know what to want, she thought in desperation.
Lightly, she said, "I … no."
His eyebrow rose in question, daring her to deny him.
"I was engaged to this man, well boy really. We grew up near each other and dated throughout high school. My parents loved him, but I don’t know that I ever really did. I think I was with him to please them. He told me he was old fashioned and wanted us to wait until marriage to … well … and so we never did. Then in college I caught him with another man. After that, I did date, but it just never came up," said Hathor breathlessly. Her cheeks stained to pink. Finally, she drew her eyes down to the balcony. She squirmed nervously. "I understand if you want to go find someone else, maybe someone with experience. If you only do this every couple hundred of years, you’ll want it to be memorable."
Hearing her confession, he could smell it, her purity. He wondered why he didn’t detect the faint scent of it before now. The knowledge hit him like a rock. He was speechless.
When her eyes moved back up to look at him, she shrugged delicately and began to back away. She moved towards the bedroom door. His piercing gaze followed her.
"I do not want anyone else, Hathor," he whispered softly. His lips barely moved, but the words were unmistakable in her head. She froze. Watching as he came to her, she shivered uncontrollably. Touching her cheek again, he added, "And you were meant to be with no one but me. I am your destiny."
Hathor swallowed. All her life had she not felt the same thing? Had she not felt something in the distance holding her at bay? Keeping her from seeking out men? The few times she had drawn close, fate intervened -- once with a car crash, several times catching the man with another woman, a phone call, an interruption. Thinking on it, she shivered. Was fate holding her for him? Was she his destiny as well?
Servaes’ mouth came down slowly. His tongue met with her lips, delving over the edge to taste the wine on her tongue. She could detect the faint impression of blood on his. His mouth tormented and excited her. Her head told her that it was wrong, her body couldn’t listen. Tentatively, she raised her hands to rest on his broad shoulders. Her eyes fluttered open as his lips left hers. The brown orbs of his gaze flashed with an eerie light. They drew her in. She wanted him. Her body burned for him. She would never deny him.
"Is this real or in my head?" she asked in breathless awe. His hands found the gentle curve of her waist. His palm fitted over her hip. The heat of his touch soaked through her black dress. "Because it feels real."
"It is real," he murmured, "very real -- more so than you or I."
Hathor gasped as his mouth claimed her with an unearthly force. A moan panted from her lips, stifled by his mouth, swallowed up into his body. His hands ran over her, caressing her boldly through the thin material. Easily, he lifted her next to him, floating forward as he kissed her. He brought her into the room, lifting his hand over his shoulder to close the balcony doors behind them.
"I should get … the lights," Hathor murmured, whimpering, as his mouth moved over her chin to her throat. "Ah."
Servaes didn’t stop in his exploration, only lifting his fingers to flick the switch from the distance. Then, like a sudden burst, her candles lit on the dresser. Hathor moaned and gasped in wonderment. Her eyes rolled in her head from the pleasure his lips wrought. She grew dizzy with the scent of him, the feel of his unyielding body pressed firmly along hers.
The fire of his kisses moved down until he was leaning over to feel the soft curve of her breasts. Hathor arched her back. His grip supported her easily with his strength. Her hands lifted unbidden to stroke the length of his hair. It fell around her fingers like a cocoon. Her hands moved over his strong neck, to the broad play of his shoulders, and down center folds of his chest. The white linen glided seductively against her searching palms. She could feel the heat of him, the fiery touch of his flesh underneath.
Servaes’ kisses grew bolder, licking over her skin to taste her. She could feel the brush of his fangs as they skimmed over her flesh, but she was not afraid. They didn’t bite down or hurt her in their dangerous stroking.
Slowly, his fingers pulled up the skirt of her dress, bunching it at her waist. His lips broke
free of her to gaze into her stormy eyes. She felt him lift her body slowly off the floor. Her shoes fell from her feet. He kicked his boots off to join hers. They floated back, carried by his will to the soft comforts of her bed. Gently, he lowered her, letting her feet fall on the soft mattress. Then, staring deeply into her eyes, he urged her to her knees.
Hathor watched the confident bend of his chest, as she knelt before him. His flat stomach and narrow hips passed by her sight, perfect, unmarred. Her hands reached out to touch him about the waist. Her palms stroked over his thighs, near the bend of his buttocks. Servaes groaned his approval. Looking up the long length of his body, she saw his desire growing before her heated gaze.
Grabbing the hem of his shirt, he pulled it over his head in a swift movement. Hathor stared nervously at the pale beauty of his skin, warmed with the golden glow of candlelight. A trail of hair disappeared from beneath his navel into the flat waist of his pants. She continued to gaze up at him. He came to her, dropping to his knees. Her hands slid over his smooth skin. Then, suddenly, his strong arms were all around her, caressing her, touching her, forcing her back onto the bed.
His lips traced over her body, slowly stirring the longing he smelled in her blood. The heady taste of wine swirled in her head, though nothing compared to his mystifying touch. His hands pulled her dress up her thighs, unveiling her athletically long legs.
Stopping with a groan as he reached her thigh-high hose, his fingers dipped under the edge of the top seam. With rapt concentration, he slid the stockings beneath her knees. Leaning over, he kissed the inside of her creamy thigh. His pointed fangs brushed over the skin.
Hathor tensed in pleasure. He forced her legs to spread apart with ease. His hand trailed up her calf, beginning at the toes and pulling her leg up. Servaes came over her, kissing her covered stomach, breathing hotly near her navel as his hand slid up her hip beneath her lacy panties. His eyes bore into her, looking up the valley of her breasts. His body pulsed with desire. He could smell the temptation of her blood, could feel every subtle movement of her body as she responded to his touch.
Her hands were in his hair, lightly pushing and pulling as he moved. She touched his bare shoulders, his smooth chest. And, before she realized what was happening, he worked her dress off of her, pulling it over her head.
"Oh-hh," she moaned, trembling and soft and achingly feminine.
Hathor felt the cool air hit her naked flesh. Servaes’ beastly moan joined hers. His lips found the sanctuary of her breasts while his body conquered the distance between their skins. He opened his mouth to breathe his fiery passion against the lacy black line of her bra. His tongue lapped at the thin barrier until it was wet and her nipple budded through silk into his awaiting mouth. She panted, moaned, cried out for more.
Flesh rubbed along silken flesh. Hands stroked tender arches and curves. They explored every unfamiliar valley of each other’s bodies until they became well versed in their shared passion. Servaes held true to his promise. He didn’t go too fast, his touch not too rough. He instinctively knew how to make her respond until neither of them could think, neither could protest. All they knew were each other and the impassioned blood that soared between them, begging to be released of the aroused torture that awoke within.
With a gasp, Hathor’s legs were forced to spread apart, accommodating his weight. She rubbed her stocking covered calves over his breeches. Servaes automatically fitted himself to her, stroking her through the barrier of her panties. She could feel his arousal against her, begging to be free, burning her with its fire. Her fingers moved to his waist, finding the laces at his sides. Without thought, she pulled them, freeing the material from his skin. Her feet moved up his powerful legs to glide the material down off his hips.
Servaes chuckled, a low husky sound that held no mocking -- only the dominant pleasure of a conqueror. Leaning up to see her beautiful form sprawled beneath him, he smiled a lecherously pleased smile. He took one of his nails and laid it on her skin just above her breasts. With a stroke of his finger, light and lingering, he cut through her bra. The material instantly released her breasts, falling away, leaving her arching chest exposed.
Next his nail moved over her flat stomach to circle the dip of her navel. Hathor’s hips arched in response, trying to find his hand to put an end to her torture. Servaes licked his lips, wanting to taste the buds of her ripened nipples. Swallowing, he held back. Then, with a slash, he drew his finger over one hip and then the other. Her panties fell open at the sides. Servaes grinned. Taking the broken material, he pulled it slowly from between her legs, letting it rub against her heated center in a slow caress.
"Oh," Hathor moaned, her legs working restlessly against him. She had no time for embarrassment as he flattened his hand to her stomach. She pushed up to seek an end to the agony he stirred inside of her.
Servaes wouldn’t let her find her release just yet. He had waited too many years for a woman like her. He searched endless lifetimes and, now that he found her again, he would finish what he wanted to do in his human life. He would claim her soul completely. She would never be able to belong to another. No matter how unfair he told himself it was, he couldn’t stop. When he was with her, there was a greater force at play, driving him on to complete possession.
Servaes felt his freed manhood brush the soft skin of her inner thigh. A deep sound resonated in his throat. Instantly his mouth was on her breasts, sucking and licking them. Hathor gasped, moaned, panted, pleaded. His name left her lips on a desperate whisper, "Servaes."
He could deny himself no longer. The wetness of her center drew first his hand, to plunder and stroke the velvet of her depths. She was moist for him and scaldingly hot. Next he found her with his shaft, bringing the hard tip to her opening. His hips moved impatiently, dipping slowly at her entrance to test her resolve to him.
"Are you ready for me, chéri?" he asked, his voice tightly drawn. His only answer was her deep moan and the searching of her willing hips.
Servaes looked into her eyes, trying to draw out any pain his possession might cause her. He lowered his mouth to her neck. His hands found the soft globe of her breast in a hungry caress. He could feel her mind clinging to every movement, every whispering touch of his body. With a primal growl, he thrust himself forward. His arousal moved swift and deep to bury inside of her. Hathor cried out in surprise. Servaes held still within her tight folds. He could smell the drop of blood that bore evidence to her purity.
"I want to taste you," he groaned against her throat. His mouth opened. His fangs waited, poised and ready above her. His hips moved in a shallow caress, adjusting and pushing at her tightness, willing her body to expand and accept his pulsing length. "And I want you to taste my passion for you. Take my blood inside of you as your sweet body takes me."
Hathor moaned. She wiggled her hips innocently against him, trying to put out the anguish of vehement desire. His thrusts grew bolder, quicker and deeper with each movement.
When she didn’t answer him, Servaes stated his plea darkly but didn’t stop his possession, "Please, chéri. Let me drink of your desire. Taste me within you."
"Yes!" Hathor screamed. Her body tingled in ways she couldn’t understand. The seductive persistence of his accented words drove her mad. His forbidden request excited her.
As the word escaped her throat, Servaes moved his wrist before his mouth, biting down to puncture his vein with his sharpened teeth. Licking his lips, he offered his life’s fluid to her parted mouth. Then, as she raised her lips to drink, he just as quickly latched his teeth into her neck.
Hathor groaned and bucked at the deepness of his kiss. The white heat of his fangs only hurt for an instant as his mouth soothed the ache with his euphoric motion. His blood dripped in her mouth, his lips drank from her throat, and his hips continued to delve within her.
The desire in his blood swam through her, heightening her own tingling emotions. She was claimed by his bite, the length of his thrusting erection as it delved dee
p and hard within her. In his passion Servaes grabbed her, lifting her up off the bed. His strength threw them into the hard bedroom wall, their bodies never drawing apart as they dangled above the floor.
In his frenzied possession, he wildly stroked her. He could feel her all around him, inside of him. The color of her crimson blood filled his eyes. The black pupils grew large in the dominate red -- like a beast. Pulling away from her neck, his wrist fell from her mouth. The wounds healed instantly. He gazed deeply into her soul, his wicked look piercing into her, changing colors in his need. His lips parted, and he kissed her, never taking his eyes away from her as the blue orbs looked trustingly back at him, accepting what he gave her and who he was.
The heat of their straining bodies built to the point of explosion. Hathor trembled, shrieking her approval as wondrous colors and sensations blurred around her. Her body lit with fire and ice, her limbs grew numb as they tensed, her bones melted in ecstasy.
The balcony doors burst open. A gust of wind surrounded them with the natural force of their deeds. Servaes met her release with his own, with a passion that waited for centuries.
Their bodies froze in an endless trace of time. For the moment, as the fire subsided to leave behind its glowing warmth, nothing mattered. Hathor fell limply against him. Her breath fanned out over his strong neck and muscled chest. Servaes held her fast, keeping their bodies completely together. There was no denying that she was entirely his.
Chapter Fifteen
A night wind swept throughout the chamber to cool it, blowing the licking flames of the candles into oblivion. Hathor lifted her head, gasping as she realized where they were. She wasn’t scared as she met the turbulent depths of Servaes’ gaze. The brown orbs quickly found themselves, losing all trace of emotion. He smiled a conquering smile of a man knowing he brought his woman passion. Hathor blushed, unable to look away from his magnetic stare. Part of her cried at the expression that greeted her, a small part she hid from his probing.
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