Tracing his fingers along my thighs, Micah coaxed them apart. I arched my back and invited him into my body, into my soul. I scraped my nails against his neck as he grabbed my sex in a possessive grip. A low, breathy sound left me.
I moved my hands down his back, over the ridges of bandages, reacquainting myself with the hard lines of his body. I found the tie on his gown and tugged. The moment the strings came loose, I pulled the material from his arms and tossed the garment to the ground.
He thrust against me, teased my pussy with the tip of a talented finger. The sensation was jagged, like a bolt of lightning. Blue lightning.
My eyes.
Forget it.
I grabbed the back of his neck, forced his mouth to mine. The necessity between us grew with each swipe of his tongue.
Back and forth, he teased the dripping slit of my sex with his fingers. I felt his desperation, the need inside him to mate, to claim me. Faster, more demanding, he brought me to the brink and shoved me into climax. Thought had no place between us. Only feeling. He plunged two fingers inside me, his knuckles twisting in and out to prolong a pleasure I’d never known existed until him.
I cried out against his mouth. The scent of blood filled the air as I dug my nails against his flesh. Micah grunted his approval. I teetered on the edge between heaven and hell. Something so sinful shouldn’t feel so good. He added a third finger, stretched me wider in preparation for his erection. Against my will, my eyes closed at the ecstasy overtaking me. I wanted to look at him, to see the pleasure reflected in his gaze and I couldn’t.
He increased the speed of his fingers before tearing his mouth away from mine.
“You belong to me, Ella, say it. Look at me,” he demanded.
My eyes snapped open at the command. What I saw pushed me over the edge. Magic. Sex. Possession. Golden rings spread out from his pupils, the orbs shining back at me. I moaned his name as my body tightened and flexed around his fingers.
“I’ve always been yours,” I gasped.
He pulled my head to the side and sank his teeth into my neck. Pain. Pleasure. He was branding me. The harder Micah worried his teeth against my tender skin, the more intense the pleasure became. Blood, sex—the scents filled me. Everything felt different, more intense and more real this time.
Micah drew my hands up over my head. The movement forced a low cry from me. I was trapped. Tight like a vise, he pinned my wrists against the door.
He kissed me, angled my head farther back to deepen the penetration of his mouth. I used my tongue to dance with his, countering each thrust with an attack of my own. The moment he let go of my wrists, I curled my hands around his biceps, brought him closer.
He pulled my full bottom lip into his mouth. I dug my fingernails into the muscles of his arms. My hips bucked against his and I grabbed his ass and dragged him even more tightly against me.
I needed more. When Micah pulled back, I made a small animal-like sound of frustration. He stared into my eyes and smirked. The smile faded as his gaze fell to the rapid rise and fall of my breasts.
“I want to taste your pussy.”
“Yes,” I whispered. That one word was filled with hungry demand.
He was so hard against me. I slid my hand down, over the crimson mark on his hip, the ridges of his stomach, to grasp his swollen shaft. Micah’s self-control snapped. His emotions poured into me through some primal connection I didn’t understand. He wanted not to just taste me, he needed to possess me, own me. Need. Now. He pushed me harder against the door. I went willingly, my legs spreading to accommodate him as he pressed closer. Lowering his head, he tongued one nipple and then the other. I responded by stroking his erection faster.
He raced a hand up my thigh, spread my legs wider as he sought the heat of me. I was hot and ready for him. Always ready for him. Greedy, he slid his fingers back and forth across my swollen sex.
I didn’t see him move, just felt the warmth of his mouth on my trembling thighs. When I opened my eyes, he was crouched in front of me.
He moved his face to my throbbing pussy.
“Please,” I begged.
My whole body quivered with anticipation as I waited for his mouth to touch me. But he didn’t give me the all-encompassing wet heat I wanted. Instead he teased me with quick, darting flicks of his tongue. Heat settled over my clit and he sucked me into his mouth. I bucked. The suction stopped and he traced the outer lips before he swept inside. I slid my hands into his thick, dark hair and curled my fingers through it to hold him in place. Silently, I urged him to give me what I needed.
A low, keening cry of desire left me when he finally opened his mouth wide and began to feast. I was instantly boneless as he laved me with the flat of his tongue, a delicious combination of pressure and texture and heat that quickly sent me soaring into another orgasm. Violently, I pulled his head to me.
“More.”
I barely had time to recover before he stood and his cock was inside me, filling me utterly, stretching me. I was reduced to sheer mindless instinct. Nothing existed but his body and mine, the place we were joined and the pleasurable pain of the desire we created in one another. Arching my back, I murmured my appreciation as he nuzzled my breasts. He was big and thick, and I greedily took him all, quickly adjusting to and then glorying in his penetration. Plunging in to the hilt, he let out a hiss of satisfaction. He moved his free hand up my torso and tugged on my nipples.
I wrapped my legs around his hips and crossed my ankles behind his back, ensuring he wasn’t going anywhere. God, how I needed him.
And then he began to move. A confident, needful thrusting that exactly echoed my own wants. He ducked his head and I closed my eyes and bit my lip at the heat of his mouth on my breast. Our hearts sped in unison.
So good. It was exquisite torture—the hardness of him inside me, stroking me, the rough scrape of his tongue on my nipples, the urgency of his hands grasping my hips. Tension ratcheted tight inside me, faster than it ever had before. I closed my eyes, reveling in every sensation as I stroked his strong pulse with my fingers. My fangs throbbed, but I held back, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Glimpsing heaven behind the darkness of my closed eyelids, I urged him on.
“Harder,” I demanded, opening my eyes to lock gazes with him. “Faster.”
His eyes glittered. He took up my challenge, hammering into me, each thrust pushing me closer to completion. Soon it was all too much. His hard cock. My wet pussy. The rasp of his stubble on my tender breasts. The firm pull of his mouth on my nipples.
I raced to the end. The tension tightened…and exploded. I climaxed with a gasping sob and dug my fingers into his back. I pulled his head up and sank my fangs into the strong muscle of his shoulder. He stiffened, shuddered, every muscle taut as he found his own peak. Clutching my hips with painful intensity, he rode out his pleasure.
I sucked, pulling rich, spicy blood into my mouth. It flowed into me and I swore I felt it moving throughout my body. After a few minutes, I pulled away, my tongue lapping at the small, neat puncture wounds.
One breath, two. The tingling warmth of my orgasm vibrated out to my toes and fingertips. Or maybe that was the bliss of his blood. Micah trailed his tongue up my neck and into my ear, the wet invasion a shocking, sensual pleasure. And then he was kissing me, deep, wet, open-mouthed kisses that tasted of sex and blood and want.
He pulled away, panting.
And then reality crashed through the sexual haze. Micah froze, pulled out of my body and left me empty. I was swamped with such an overwhelming need to have him close, to have him inside me.
Micah must have misunderstood. He stepped away from me, horror filling his eyes.
“Jesus, Ella. I’m sorry…I-I don’t know…”
I tried to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, but I couldn’t seem to find my voice.
Micah shook his head, bent to pull up both my panties and my pants. After he dressed me, he stumbled back until he hit the opposite wall and slid down it. W
ithout another word, he brought his knees up to his chest. He hugged his arms around them and began to rock. He looked so lost. The thumping of his head against the wall behind him made my heart hurt.
What had we done?
I found and pulled on my sweater.
“Micah,” I said softly, crossing the room.
“What did she do to me?” he asked.
“To us, Micah. It wasn’t just you. You didn’t attack me. I was there with you every single second. This wasn’t your fault.” If he heard me, he didn’t acknowledge.
“Micah, Ella?” The door behind me shook under the fist pounding against it.
I jumped, spun to the mirror and wished I hadn’t. My hair was a tangled mess from Micah’s fingers. My skin was flushed from his blood, and my eyes… They were glassy and wide. I looked like I’d just been thoroughly fucked.
The doorknob jiggled violently. “Are you all right?” Roy yelled.
I opened the door to meet Roy’s concerned, stress-reddened face. I didn’t know what to say or how to explain what in the hell had just happened. My uncle looked at me, then looked at Micah huddled against the wall. Bright-red rivulets from the punctures in his shoulder were slowly disappearing down his chest.
“Jesus, Micah,” Eli said as he pushed past me and slid to the ground next to his brother.
My eyes filled with tears. I was disgusted with myself, with the situation, with the fucking demon that had crashed into my life and ruined everything. Despite the heat flaming my cheeks, I forced myself to meet my uncle’s gaze.
“We’ve got a problem.” I hated how husky my voice sounded.
“I’d say that is an understatement. You two just managed to cause a city-wide blackout. You’re lucky the hospital has backup generators,” Roy hissed. “I shouldn’t have let you come here. I knew the connection between you was intense. I miscalculated. Together you two are more than powerful, you’re explosive.”
I flashed back to the graveyard and the fiery dust motes Micah and I had created. How could we be explosive? My heart was racing too fast.
“Couldn’t it just be coincidence?” I rationalized. I knew the lie for what it was. Denial.
Roy shook his head. “This is worse than I feared. I’ve never seen or felt anything like what happened when you walked into the room. I watched yours and Micah’s auras combine—that didn’t happen at the house. Power exploded the moment you touched. We don’t have time to sort this out right now. I’ve heard from several of the other Shadow Hunters in the surrounding areas that there is a wave of demons headed straight for us. We can discuss this problem later. Ella, if you’re okay, we need to get Hannah out of here and do damage control. Let Eli take care of Micah. For right now, I think it best to keep you two separated.”
I bit my lip and looked over my shoulder at Micah, who was cradled in Eli’s arms as if he was a little boy. The moment I looked at him, familiar heat stirred inside the dark place inside me. Micah lifted his head and I sucked in a breath. Our eyes met. His hands flexed against Eli’s arm.
“Get her out of here. Roy, Jesus… I can’t control this. She needs to leave, now,” Micah pleaded.
Roy swept the room, took in the whole of the situation before he nodded and gripped my shoulders. Even though I knew that if I didn’t leave, Micah and I were going to end up on the floor in front of an audience, in front of my uncle, I couldn’t seem to make myself move.
Roy’s grip on my shoulders tightened. When I tried to move closer to Micah, my uncle forcefully pulled me from the room that smelled of sex and promises. It held the scent of darkness and blood and everything I wanted. The overhead lights flickered as if even the generators were going to give out and Roy swore under his breath.
“Eli, whatever you do, do not let Micah out of your sight. Until we can figure out what kind of spell the demon has laid upon them, they are not to be in the same room together. I can taste the darkness but I’m not equipped to deal with spells of this nature. I know someone who might agree to help us. I’ll call you soon. Take care of Micah.”
When Micah tried to get up, Eli had to use the entire length of his lanky body to keep him on the floor. I looked at Micah and knew something irreversible was happening to us. The bite on my thigh and the one on my neck began to burn. My tattoo throbbed. A line of fire raced between the points and it felt was as if I was being torn apart.
“Go.” That was the only thing I heard before Roy dragged me out of the room, down the stairwell and out of the hospital.
The farther away I got, the stronger the urge to vomit became. The sensation threatened to drive me to my knees. I made it to the truck before I retched. Hannah wrapped her arms around me. Her jasmine scent surrounded me. I fell against her, buried my face into my sister’s shoulder and cried as if I was going to die. I begged. I looked into Roy’s eyes over Hannah’s shoulder and pleaded for him to let me go back inside.
Roy shook his head and closed his arms around both Hannah and me.
Chapter Five
PMD (Post Micah Disaster) Day One
I clutched Hannah closer and cried in huge, uncontrolled, gasping sobs against her stomach. The steady up, down stroke of her hand along my back did nothing to soothe the ripping pain deep inside my chest.
“Shush, it’s going to be okay,” she cooed and rhythmically pulled her fingers through my hair. “Roy says the withdrawals will pass.”
I barely heard anything over the pounding in my head. Go to him. Leave. Find your mate. You won’t survive if you don’t. It wasn’t Julian in my head, but some twisted dark part of my subconscious. My inner vampire had found a voice.
I fought my instinct to find Micah and curled my body around my sister’s instead. She gathered me tight and held me throughout the night as the agony sliced me in half. Piece by piece, my soul came apart.
PMD Days Two and Three
The chain around my left wrist clanked and rattled. I tugged on my restraint. Metal cut through skin and into what felt like bone. “Come on, I swear if you let me go I won’t leave the house.”
Of course, I was lying.
Two feet in from me, sitting in one of our handcrafted oak dining chairs, Roy bent his head and dangled his clasped hands between his slightly spread legs. He looked up at me with sorrow. “We’ve discussed this, Ella. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
My growl reverberated throughout the basement. I bared my fangs.
“Unchain me,” I demanded.
“No.”
Go to him. He needs you.
I screamed and raged against the voice in my head. Why wouldn’t it go away? The never-ending pain in my chest redoubled and I cried out. I had to get free. Had to see Micah. I struggled against my cuff and the sharp rusty scent of blood filled my nose.
“I’m dying, please.”
“You aren’t dying. This will pass, Ella, I promise. We’re gathering all the research materials we can to cross-reference magical tattoos with lust spells. We’ll figure this out.” Roy rose from his chair and walked to the stairs leading to the upper level of the house.
My screams barely eclipsed the closing of the door. Alone, I collapsed to the floor. I curled my legs to my chest and wrapped my free arm around my calves. The moment I dropped my forehead to the knobs of my knees, the tears fell and didn’t stop for a long time.
PMD Day Four
“You need to eat.” Hannah pushed the container of steaming stir-fried rice across the table.
The scent hit me and for a moment, I thought I might throw up. I shook my head and stared out the window over the kitchen sink. Rain fell from the sky and streamed down the glass. I traced each individual rivulet and forced back the nausea. Dull pain throbbed through my chest, but it was manageable.
“Is it blood you need?” she asked and did a horrible job of hiding her grimace.
My fangs pulsed. Micah. He still lingered on my tongue but I couldn’t pick out the unique facets of his taste anymore. The ache sharpened.
“I’m fine,
Hannah.” I was so far from fine, it wasn’t funny.
Go to him, Hannah can’t stop you. I shoved the little voice in my head—the one that got quieter as the days passed—into some shadowed corner of my psyche. I resumed my window staring contest and drew figure eights on the table with the tip of my finger.
“You’re not okay,” Hannah snapped. “When’s the last time you slept? Or ate? Roy had to force water down your throat, which by the way wasn’t pretty. While we’re at it, we should discuss showering.”
I glared at her. “Don’t you have some sorority formal thing to go to?”
She pushed a few shiny strands of her hair behind her ear and leaned back in her chair. One arm at a time, she crossed them dramatically over her chest. “I’m not leaving you.”
My scowl deepened. “Fine.”
“Fine.”
I took in her slightly pursed lips and narrowed eyes. Even in pissy-sister mode she was gorgeous. No matter how different we were appearance-wise, there was one thing that we both shared. Stubbornness.
The invisible noose wrapped around my throat eased just a little. I wasn’t alone in this. I drew in a breath, then another. I would fight this infatuation with Micah and I would win.
“Wanna play Scrabble?” I asked.
Her lips twitched. “Maybe.”
PMD Day Five
“I’m never having sex again,” Hannah groaned.
I lowered the book I’d been pretending to read about thirteenth century prophecies and looked across the pile of research materials sprawled between us on the basement floor. She curled her upper lip and wrinkled her nose at the ancient, leather bound scroll five inches from her face.
Although she gagged a little, she tilted the paper to the left for a better view. “I mean seriously. So gross.”
I shook my head and resumed my perusal of my assigned book. One page at a time, I flipped through and looked for pictures. I found none. “If it’s so disgusting, then why don’t you just look away?” I asked.
Dark Cravings Page 7