Beautiful Danger

by Michele Hauf

  “I love you,” he said. “And I’m not going to ask why you can stand to be near me, but instead just take it for what it is.”

  “What it is is love.” She pulled him down for a long, deep kiss. He ground his hips against hers, and she rocked against him because he’d pinned her wrists and she couldn’t use her hands to get him off. “Wait a second.”

  He paused from the kiss, and followed her gaze out the window.

  “It’s just so beautiful,” she said of the twinkling iron lady. “I’ve never really looked at it. You know, to admire the craftsmanship. And the view is perfect from here. It’s kind of phallic, isn’t it?”

  “You just went from a pretty landmark to a penis reference, Lark. I like the way your brain works. It’s almost as twisted as mine.”

  “I like twisty.”

  He dived against her neck, his tongue lashing across her vein. When he traced the spot where he’d bitten her twice she felt an incredible erotic surge trace her skin. He’d marked her, and her body knew his touch. She wanted to feel his fangs penetrate her again, and squirmed within his tight grasp to free herself.

  “You don’t need to touch right now,” he muttered against her neck. “You’re mine.”

  “I want to touch your fangs.”

  The sharp prick of his ivory tooth against her vein made her suck in a breath, and her body rose against his in anticipation.

  “Mercy, you’re so wanting,” he growled. “Every touch, no matter how soft, speaks to you.”

  “Yes, it makes me want your bite. I know it’s wrong but—”

  “But we made our wrong a right, yes?”

  “Yes,” she said on a gasp. “Please, Domingos?”

  Two pinpricks pressed against her skin, the tip of his tongue teasing the heat of her as he did not sink them in but merely lingered there. Heart pounding, she anticipated the sweet pain of his intrusion.

  A knock at the door brought her down from the tightened stretch of want in a gushing exhale.

  “Sorry,” he whispered.

  “Room service. It’s my fault. Blame it on a need to indulge.”

  Domingos rolled off her, arms outstretched and tonguing his fangs. Lark lingered as she crawled over him, teasing her finger across the tips of his fangs, until a second knock hurried her to answer the door. It was all on the room tab, so she had to merely sign.

  “Open this.” She handed him the champagne after the bellboy had left, then dipped her finger into the caviar and tasted the tiny, salty black pearls that rolled across her tongue. “So good. You ever try?”

  “Doesn’t look appealing.” He plopped onto the chair beside the food cart.

  “Vampires can eat a little, yes?” She crawled onto his lap and fingered another wodge of caviar into her mouth. Then she kissed him, rolling her tongue across his, chasing the black jewels. “What do you think?”

  “The kiss was great. The fish eggs?” He made a face. The cork popped out of the bottle and spilled onto the floor. Domingos made the save by putting the neck to his mouth and drinking the bubbling contents. “Ah... Much better. What about that other stuff? What did you order? Looks mushy.”

  “It was on the dessert menu.” Lark leaned over from the chair and dipped her finger into the rice pudding. It smelled strongly of rum and cinnamon. A wodge sat warm on her tongue. “Mmm, I love this even more.”

  She kissed him again, mixing the taste of champagne with the decadent treat.

  “That is good. Another taste.” He scooped up a glob on his finger and she opened her mouth, but half the pudding landed on her cleavage. “Messy. But I couldn’t have planned that one better.”

  He bent to her chest, his tongue seeking the sweet dessert. He pulled aside the robe and sucked her skin clean.

  Lark dipped her fingers into the rice pudding and this time managed a mouthful of the dessert, but he pulled her head down for another kiss and they mingled and tasted each other. She crushed her breasts up against his chest, and the sticky trail of food smeared into his skin.

  Taking the champagne bottle from him, she tilted back a swallow. It was so bubbly that she choked a little, then laughed, and almost spat it out. “It went up my nose! This stuff is crazy.”

  “Better the drink than me, eh?”

  “Apparently I like my men a little crazy.”

  “Do you? All that hair pulling and screaming at nothing turns you on?”

  “It’s the never knowing what you’ll do next, and the surprises, that I adore.”

  “And my bite?”

  “Yes.” She stroked one of his fangs and he moaned deeply. “Your lovely fangs. I will have them inside me before the night is over.”

  “You will. Promise.”

  “But what I love most about you?” she said. “Is simply you. You’re unique, and different, and, well, I love you this way. Promise me you’ll never be normal?”

  “Normal sounds good sometimes. Kind of like boring. But if you prefer me crazy, I have a feeling I won’t have to try too hard to achieve that goal. More sweet stuff, please.” He stuck out his tongue and waggled it at her.

  Lark stepped back from his lap and stood before him, parting the robe and letting it fall to the floor. She glided her hand down from her shoulder, slowly over her breast and along her stomach to rest on her mons. “How about this sweet stuff?”

  Her vampire lover lunged forward onto his knees and looked up to her as he strolled his fingers down her stomach and to her hips. Lark felt certain she had never seen a more adoring gaze from a man. It was a look she could get used to.

  Sliding her fingers through his hair she then directed his head toward her mons, and when his tongue lashed out to taste the dessert she offered him, she bent forward, drawing her palms across his damaged back. The scarred and papery skin displayed a map of his pain, and she navigated it tenderly with a feather touch. And he did the same at the junction of her thighs. Until he did not, and his touch grew deeper, harder, more intense, and she gripped hanks of his hair and supported herself upon his shoulders as he deftly brought her to orgasm.

  As her body shuddered and her breath gasped out, he rose before her and pushed her into the bed. She landed, face forward, in the midst of orgasm, hands catching the sheets. He grabbed her hips and plunged deep inside her from behind to take advantage of her pulsing muscles.

  The vampire cried out in pleasure as he rammed inside her. And Lark met his vigorous thrusts with rhythmic shifts of her hips against his. Hard and hurried, he was not gentle, pressing a hand to her back and gripping her hip. And when he came, she felt as though he surrendered all he had to her, and the trust was so implicit that no one could ever part them no matter what tactics they used.

  Chapter 19

  “Bite me,” the hunter whispered in the vampire’s ear.

  As aroused as he still was after making love to Lark for hours nestled within the soft sheets, Domingos’s cock stood up at attention at the sound of those two words. He slid down Lark’s lithe body, kissing every inch of her skin in his path, until he landed the spot he ranked as one of his five favorite places on her body.

  “Right here,” he said, and licked the curvy underside of her breast. “You’ll taste so good here.”

  The graze of her fingernails across his scalp sent good shivers down his neck, and the inner whispers took a little thrill from that, too. But when he nudged his nose against her breast, the whispers receded as his focus and desire increased. Her breast filled his hand, and the nipple hardened against his palm. She spread her legs, and he moved his hips so he lay between them and on her stomach. He loved when she hooked a leg up over his back and it didn’t hurt his damaged skin so much because, well, because all he could think about was tasting her blood again.

  Poking his fangs against her skin, he nudged gently as if testing a
balloon that might pop, and then slowly, taking his time because the sweet first droplets of blood hitting his palate were always the best, he pierced her.

  Lark’s nails dug into his scalp, and her hips rocked. She rubbed her mons against his chest, working at the sensitive nub that would get her off, while he sank his fangs as deep as they would go. His lips pressed hard to her hot flesh, his tongue teasing at the wodge of skin his teeth dug up into his mouth. Normal vamps would now retract their fangs, but he had to physically lift them from her body.

  As he exited her skin, Lark’s moan grew orgasmic, and the hot blood spilled into his mouth. It swirled over his tongue like wine, and satisfied his needs like ice water on a hot summer day.

  “Fuck yes,” she said on a shuddering tone.

  He sucked roughly, taking what he could from the area that was not rich in veins, but did serve him a taste. What he really needed was the vein, a nice thick one, like that on the inside of her thigh.

  Biting into that one could kill her, the whispers cackled. But she’s a hunter, so...

  “Domingos...” Just his name, as she reached orgasm and her body shuddered beneath his command.

  Blood quenched his desires. Sweat meshed his body to her skin. The smells of spice and champagne and her brightness dizzied his senses as he, too, fell into the swoon. A delirious place of rightness and dark, courtesy of taking blood. And he free-fell, high-fiving the whispers, giving the finger to the yowling cats and manic violins and soaring into a sweet oblivion that no one could take away from him.

  Blood on his tongue, metallic and bittersweet, Domingos swallowed and sighed against Lark’s breast.

  More. You need more.

  He closed his eyes to the irritating whispers and glided on the swoon, reaching to curl his fingers about the ends of her silky hair.

  Don’t deny the hunger! Fight for survival. Without blood, you die, vampire. Do you want to die in a cage? Surrounded by idiot dogs?

  He curled his fingers tightly.

  Lark tugged at her hair. “That hurts, lover. Be careful.”

  Careful? Careful is for the dead. And dead vampires are tossed in the Seine, a pile of ashes!

  Gliding down Lark’s belly, Domingos licked her skin, already missing the taste of blood, and seeking a pulsing vein to renew the delicious swoon. An abrupt draw of the bow across the violin string screeched through his nervous system. His fingers twitched against Lark’s hip.

  She reached for his hand, still panting and sighing from the tremendous orgasm she’d experienced. He pulled away from her seeking touch.

  There, over her mons, which smelled of sex, champagne and heat, he then moved to her thigh, where the scent of blood racing through an artery drew him like a heat-seeking missile.

  Without a second thought, Domingos jammed his fangs into the artery and swallowed the gush of hot blood.

  “No!”

  Lark’s other leg slammed against his skull, but the hit did not silence the insistent whispers. He growled, pulling out his teeth and lapping at the spurting artery. “Mine. I will not be defeated.”

  “Oh, hell, it’s the madness. Domingos!” Her fist crashed against his temple. The hunter struggled for freedom. “Focus. Don’t let the blood—hell, it’s the blood. He can’t see beyond that.”

  The woman suddenly slammed her thighs together, crushing his head between them, and with a deft shift of her hips managed to flip him to his back and kick away to freedom.

  Domingos, empowered by the blood, scrambled after her across the bed, grabbing her by the leg. He swiped his fingers across his tongue.

  “Not going to get away from me, hunter.”

  Her heel landed on his shoulder, and she pushed away, which sent her reeling off the bed, to land in a catlike roll that ended in her pounced upon her feet and hands.

  She studied her thigh. “Shit, I have to bandage this, or it’ll bleed out. Or if you could lick it to seal the wound—”

  “I’m going to suck you dry.”

  Domingos jumped from the bed and landed beside her, using an elbow to put her down and rolling on top of her. He struggled to get her hands in his, to pin her, but she was strong.

  They’d danced this dance before, and they’d called it a draw. No one defeats you, idiot vampire pet.

  “No one,” he growled.

  A kick to his stomach hurt, and he hadn’t been prepared for such force. Domingos’s back and shoulders hit the bed. Lark managed to get up on her feet and raced into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind her.

  Licking the blood from his lips, Domingos reveled in the sweet treat. A violent rage of noise clattered within him, begging for more. He banged his head against the mattress and gripped his fingers through his hair, tugging.

  “Can’t let you win!” he shouted at the madness inside him. He shouldn’t have bitten her.

  It’s what you do! You are vampire!

  “Yes,” he mumbled in response to the demanding whispers.

  Heaving, he felt his energy wane and he collapsed into a weary acceptance. No. Don’t give up.

  With an agreeing nod, he crept up to his feet and made a run for the bathroom door. It was solid and did not give.

  “I’m not coming out until you settle down,” she called. “Don’t let it win, Domingos!”

  “Come out and play with me, hunter. What happened to your desire to stake me?”

  “I love you, Domingos.”

  “So she says.” She loves to tease you and tempt you with her blood. But she won’t give it all? “I won’t hurt you, I just want to make it all better.”

  “Bullshit.”

  He banged a fist against the door, clawing his nails down the wood. “Come out here!”

  Silence pounded in his heartbeat. The air, heavy with blood and sex, taunted him, prodding up the voices, the maniacal screams and clatter and music. Why had he let back in the music?

  Domingos slammed his head against the door. It hurt, so he did it again.

  And the third time he aimed for the door, it suddenly opened to reveal a shivering woman. She stood there before him, arms crossed over her bare stomach and breasts. Tousled hair hung over one side of her face, and the other side revealed a wide, frightened eye.

  Frightened? His mighty hunter feared nothing but falling.

  You just pushed her over the edge. She’s fallen into your madness.

  Heh.

  And there, at her leg, she’d tied a white towel, yet already it bloomed with crimson. It would continue to bleed if he did not seal the wound. She would die.

  “No, you can’t— Not you,” he gasped. “Not Lark. I... Lark?”

  A tilt of her head and her lips, plumped from his kisses, parted.

  “No, I didn’t want to do this.” He gripped his hands before him, unsure how to touch her, to make it better. The whispers had ceased. The cold reality of seeing his lover standing defeated before him shoved back the insanity. “No.”

  He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms about her body. She hung lax in his embrace, her head falling to his shoulder, her body so warm and trusting against his.

  “I’m so sorry. I—the voices—they wanted more. Oh, hell, Lark.”

  He pushed her away and strode to the other side of the bed, where her blood spattered the thick white carpet. Falling to his knees, he bent to the blood droplets and let out an agonizing moan that scraped from his insides and forced up all the pain he’d felt since that first night of captivity.

  The first time the cage bars had clanked behind him had stiffened his spine. The first fight, another blood-starved vampire stalking toward him had opened his veins and carved up his soul. Many fights to follow. So much blood. And the agonizing death screams. Until finally he had felt nothing. And each time the cage bars clanked he’d move
d as if a machine, going for the veins to survive.

  Domingos pressed his face against the carpet and clawed with his fingers as yowls of agony birthed from his core. And the music shattered the frail cage about his soul. Falling, falling away from sanity, and landing...

  A bare foot appeared near his head. The touch of soft fingers upon his scarred back. She fell, more than knelt, beside him. Weak from blood loss, Lark leaned over his back and wrapped herself upon him.

  “I’m here, lover. I’m ever here.”

  Domingos sniffed away tears and turned to catch her limbs in his arms. Her eyelids fluttered. Her head fell heavily upon his shoulder.

  “Screw my damaged soul,” he said. “If you die, I’ll never rise above this insanity.”

  He tugged the towel free from her leg and bent to lick away the blood that had slowed to an ooze. And he licked the wound to seal it and stop the bleeding. It was different than his tongue pressing to the skin while he drank blood; this was a purposeful act that delivered his saliva over the wound until the blood stopped flowing. And he took no pleasure in the taste of it; he could not.

  Lark’s fingers fell upon his hair and he moved with them to lie down beside her on the floor. Tears stained his lover’s pinkened cheeks.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “That was close.”

  “Sorry.”

  He nuzzled up against her chest, seeking the comfort that only she had offered him. A hunter had seen that he possessed light within a vast darkness. And he’d just punished her for that blind trust.

  She would accept his apology and tell him she loved him. But was it so easy as that? Could he trust himself around her to never again go into a manic rage in quest for her blood? Next time he might kill her.

  He couldn’t conceive of hurting the one good thing he had in his life.

  Must he walk away from her to keep her safe?

  “Never leave me,” she whispered, as if reading his mind. “We’ll survive this.”