by Jackie Ivie
“You keep calling me that...and you shouldn’t. We just met.”
“Yes. Thankfully.”
“What?”
“You are watashi no ai, Christine. I recognized you instantly.”
“Well...I think you need to get out more.”
She went on tiptoes, going close enough that each panted breath flashed across his lips. Her eyes were half-closed, too. Sparking green daggers right at him. Easily reaching his heart. And getting embedded there. The bestial energy he was holding back flexed with such power, he started shaking. It wasn’t from exertion anymore but from a harsher emotion: fear.
“Takeshi?”
His head dipped until his chin nearly touched his chest. He licked his lips. His tongue got nicked. He sucked on it for another moment while the entire planet seemed to wait. And then he told her the truth.
“My heart started beating the moment we met. I took my first breath. Felt chill again. Warmth. Emotion. You are my mate, Christine. My one. And only. That is why I call you my love. Because it is true.”
“Oh. Wow. I thought you woefully poor with words.”
“And I truly must warn you...while I still can.”
“About what?”
“I haven’t told you everything. There is more. I have a dark side. A...blackness beyond explanation.”
“Okay. I think you just went from incredibly sexy to super hot.”
If she glanced toward his mouth she couldn’t fail to see his fangs. There was no hiding them now. They’d gone to a puncturing sharpness and throbbed with thirst. But she didn’t alter her gaze. And nothing about its power on him weakened.
“You’re also just a bit dense.”
His brows rose.
“Don’t give me that look. I don’t know why I’m acting like this, either. I’m normally frigid. Aloof. Trust me. This is totally against my nature. But – like I keep saying – you’re incredibly sexy, uh...you have the hottest body I’ve ever seen, and um. Well. What else can I say? That looks like a really nice bed over there.”
“You must listen to me first. I am a vamp—!”
His words cut off as she lifted on tip-toes and touched her lips to his. He thought he’d readied but there was no preparing for this. He didn’t have the vampiric side under control. He barely had it leashed. Her kiss was too perfect. Too beatific. Too unbelievable. His fangs sliced her lip flesh. The first taste of their comingled fluid sent the world right off its axis, tilting the stone they stood on. Takeshi shifted his feet, tightened his legs muscles, and strove to maintain balance.
Time stopped. Fireworks went off behind his eyelids. His body took a plunge into the deepest, coldest ice-water bath. Before being shot through an inferno. Launched into the sky. To soar among the clouds.
The power within him roared to dominance. Overtaking. Consuming. Turning him into a creature of passion and intensity. Takeshi grabbed her to him, blended his groan with her moan, and a moment later they slammed into the mattress. The landing unlatched their kiss. And he replaced it with a plunge of his fangs into her throat.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Something wild took charge. Something massive. Intense. Overpowering. It grabbed. Demanded participation. And then it emboldened. To a frightening degree. Takeshi’s kiss held a flash of pain, followed by the most amazing taste sensation. Wonder erupted. Rapture ensued. It sparked an inferno of desire. That kiss redirected her breath. Seized her heart. Possessed her every moment. The symphony of reaction resembled a work of art. And then he’d moved his attention to her neck and delivered a masterpiece. His touch at her throat shot spikes of liquid thrill right to her core. And then they got sucked right back out.
Christine writhed and moaned, caught up in a craze of passion beyond imagining. Transcending experience. Obliterating reality. Demanding action. And she wanted more.
Eternal amounts more.
They rolled. To one side of the mattress. Then the other. He gained the top position. Then she did. Again. As though jockeying for dominance. Silk caressed every move. Her hair wound about them in locks of reddish-brown. All of it affixing. Binding. Restricting. The room shifted, somehow going brighter. Christine rolled atop him again. This time she pushed against his chest, stopping their roll, and he let her, although he grunted as he released her throat. She shimmied upward, straddling his hips in order to press against him, groin to groin, and...oh my! A bubble of pleasure caught in her throat as she got a dose of Takeshi’s size. The man was massive. And hard. Thick. Readied. She slid back and forth along his length in what room he gave her. It wasn’t much. He’d moved his hands, locking them about her waist, holding her in place with a grip that shook. And...wait.
Were those...fangs?
Oh shit, Christine.
The fire had grown from a bed of embers. A side-cast glance verified it. Flames shot upward, barely confined in the pit, shedding light that flared and flickered. Illuminated and shadowed. Defined and hid. She was light-headed. Woozy. Christine watched with pent breath as the entire room began a slow spin. It spiraled clockwise. Dots mixed in next. Weird dots. They danced about in a myriad of patterns. Sometimes looming large. Then going pinhead small. The bed linens were no longer black, either. They were covered with streaks of red.
Blood red.
And it was wet.
She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, despite how the spinning sensation worsened. It wasn’t possible. She refused to believe it. She was seeing things. Imagining worse. She’d gone to too many horror movies. Experienced too many shock flicks. That was it. She was imbuing this unbelievably fantasy experience with vampiric overtones because she must subconsciously want it. That must be it. That’s why she saw what looked like blood. And fangs. Her imagination was working overtime. And it was doing one hell of a job.
Ends of her hair tickled the backs of her ankles. She grabbed a breath, catching incense-laden air. She inhaled it anyway, waiting long moments as her mind sought meaning. Reality. Explanation. And even with this weirdness, she was still amazingly excited. Burning with a fever of desire in a cauldron of passion. Yet verging on swooning at the same time? How was that possible? She’d never felt so strange. Out of control. Frenzied. Wild. It was fantasy-intriguing and scary-sexy. The faint feeling was up against a ferocious amount of passion, and getting its butt kicked.
And passion won.
She opened her eyes, looked down at Takeshi’s torso, and knew exactly when it happened, too. Her heart became its own entity, thundering into prominence, each beat sending heavy drum-like sounds. It had an echo. His heartbeat joined in, matching the cadence exactly. The beat dragged every motion into rhythm with it. And the vortex was dissipating. Slowing. And Takeshi was at the center, planted between her legs.
Oh baby!
She’d been dead-on with his physique. His body wasn’t just fantastic. He was absolute, jaw-dropping, masculine perfection. His chest rose and fell, alternately lifting and dropping her. Over and over. Christine shoved her fingers along his skin, tracing scars before fanning outward. Her touch rippled along sculpted abs, delineated ropes of muscle, slid along threads of veins. His hips began bucking against hers, creating friction. Excitement. Fervor. Again. And again. The bed platform began rocking. Black silk drapery waved and shifted, fanning incense-laden air. Her nipples grew hard with want. Her loins wet with need. Her thighs jerked and tightened, gripped for every lunge he made. Her every nerve-ending tingled and sparked. Her mouth opened in another quest for air. As much as she could gain. As quickly as possible. She’d never felt so alive. So infused with wantonness. Or so desperate.
“Christine.”
Her name tore through the space, carried on the wave of sound. It added a deep, haunting tenor to an already mystical atmosphere.
“Takeshi?”
She whispered. He didn’t. His reply was a guttural mash of sound. Feral. Fierce. Forceful.
“Oh, watashi no ai! I want—! I need—! Ah! You do not understand!”
Oh, yes she
did. She even recognized the extent. And then she watched his skin actually darken, starting as a flush that emitted from somewhere below his throat. It spread outward, reaching where her hands were pressed, heating her palms, sparking through her skin. That shocked. Stunned.
The outfit she wore was crafted from the finest silk. That included the obi sash. That belt presented a problem. Christine worked at the tie, her efforts only making the knot stouter. Tighter. She finally pushed it around to her back and ignored it. The outer robe fell open. She pulled her arms out before yanking the span of material from beneath the waistband. Shoved it somewhere behind her. She didn’t know where it landed. She didn’t care. Her hands shook, making every movement palsied and clumsy, and she couldn’t find the hem of her juban. The inner garment was becoming another problem.
For her.
Not Takeshi. He altered everything by slashing his fingers into the material at both sides and ripping the front open. A moment later, his hands were at her breasts, cupping flesh and sending shockwaves that sizzled through skin, then crashed through her belly. Takeshi’s reaction was instantaneous and unbelievable. His entire body arched upward, lifting them from the mattress, while his groan blended with the heartbeat throb about them. The sound raised shivers. They were still coursing her skin as they hovered in midair, long moments after his cry ended.
They dropped, the motion assisting Christine’s movement to snag his lips again. Ah. The man could kiss! A minute prick pierced her lower lip. Almost like before, but it brought nothing about pain this time, and everything about wonder. It was followed by the same reaction. The thrill. The absolute rapture. Almost enough to override her real objective. Her new position gave her a foundation. To explore. Christine shoved both hands down his frame, burrowed beneath his waistband, and...
There!
She had him. Hard. Thick. And incredibly large. And everything stopped. The pounding noise ceased. Their heavy breathing halted. The bed platform shuddered and stilled. Takeshi had gone statue-still. Incredibly hard and taut. Unmoving. Then he started trembling. And then he started pleading.
“Christine! Watashi no ai! Help me! Oh, Christine! My love! Help! Christine! Please? Oh, love! Christine! Meito! Please? I need—! Ah!”
Takeshi’s yell launched outward, carrying what sounded like pain. The depth of it reverberated against the stone walls. Flames burst upward from the fire-pit. The air grew moist, making the incense stronger. The throbbing sound started up again, too. She was poised above him before his yell ebbed, and then she was on him, her body sucking. Taking him deep. Fully. Muscles and nerve endings stretched to accommodate and massage and enjoy.
And then she lifted, sliding nearly free before slamming back on. Up again. Down. The third time, he grabbed the sides of her hips, using the grip to bring her down to meet his upward thrust. A moan burst from her lips. He felt unbelievable. Beyond description. Outside of any experience. Ever.
And she wanted more.
Christine’s heart hammered in her chest. Each breath got deeper. Fuller. Adding to the riot of sensations. Every stroke went just a little faster. Came harder. Creating. Building. Christine tossed her head back as the feeling tickled into being, grew larger, crested...and then exploded. Harsh cries tore her throat, pulsing outward, blending with every other sound. She was no longer human. She was an ephemeral being. Rocketing through another realm. Shot there by a blast of ecstasy. Held by long moments of shivering bliss. It was an orgasmic creation beyond imagining.
And every cell on her body wanted it again.
She looked back down. She hadn’t been mistaken. Firelight flickered on fangs. Lethal-looking. Coated with dark red fluid. She blinked. Little changed, yet everything did at the same time. She wasn’t horrified or frightened. She wasn’t even shocked.
She was riveted. Fascinated. Wholly enthralled.
And it manifested physically.
Her entire frame pulsed. Takeshi reacted to it, moving the exact span with her before regaining the mattress. Her gaze went lower, and oh my! My! The man wasn’t just perfect. He was sculpture in motion, perfection on display. A sheen of moisture glistened on abs that led down to where she perched, while his pecs had striations of definition. They drew a touch. A caress. Muscles were bunching and moving all over him as he pulled her down. Lifted her away. Brought her down again. His arms worked like pistons, each hip thrust the generator to friction. Over and over again. And Christine felt it again. Ecstasy slammed through her, taking her on a crazier ride than before. Claiming. Owning.
The scene warped. Went Darker. Redder. Hotter.
Takeshi yanked her to him and rolled. He didn’t need to hold her. Christine was locked in place. Her hands formed a base to support his chest, while her legs locked about him gave him flexing room. He pumped. Drilled. Sending sensation with every stroke, pleasure with each motion. Harder. Faster. His gaze sought hers. Their gazes locked. His eyes drilled into hers. They weren’t black anymore, though.
They were blood red.
And then his eyes went wide. Stunned. His mouth stretched open next, to send the lowest growl she’d ever heard into existence. Christine held tightly as he rocked spasmodically against her. Taut. Heavy. His full weight slammed into her with a series of jolts. Christine screamed. One of his bedposts fell. Black silk dropped onto them. And the fire-pit exploded, spraying a shower of sparks everywhere.
Takeshi didn’t notice. He’d turned into a trembling mass within her arms. One that grunted. And sounded like it sobbed. He wasn’t the only one. Christine pulled a hand out to swipe at her eyes. Then she gasped. Froze. And tried to sit. That proved impossible with him entrenched between her legs. Weighing her down. Dooming them.
“Watashi no ai?”
His voice trembled. That was really cute. Her heart reacted. Her mind didn’t.
“The ceiling is on fire,” she told him.
He lifted his head, pulling the fallen drapery with him. He just stayed there, watching her for long moments while her pulse filled her ears, almost canceling out the crackling sounds of fire eating wood. And then he smiled. There wasn’t a fang in sight. She blinked rapidly. Nope. No fangs.
Was this what it felt like to go insane?
“Oh, Christine. Please, my love. You must give me a moment. Please? I’ve never—. That was—. I did not—. I cannot find words...to describe it.”
“Takeshi!”
She pushed at him. He shuddered. It looked a lot like amusement. It proved as much when he chuckled before answering.
“We are in a volcano. No one will notice smoke. Or fire.”
“What? We want someone to notice!”
“Ah. Christine. Watashi no ai.”
“It’s getting worse,” she informed him.
“I...love you,” he replied.
His voice shook. His declaration made her heart fall. Something in the room beyond her view did the same thing, only it made a clanking sound. Christine’s words contained the same warble as his. It was the best she could manage.
“Takeshi, please. Not...now. We have an emergency to handle.”
“And you worry without reason.”
“The room is on fire!”
“Everything has beauty, but not everyone can see it.”
“You’re quoting Confucius? Again? Now? Are you crazy?” she asked.
“You must learn to trust me.”
“Takeshi!”
“My country has a history with fire and its consequences. I would not have built without a fire response system. Even if I had not done so, I would save you.”
“We’re going to die!”
“Not possible, my love. I am already dead.”
And just then, sprinklers activated, spraying water down on everything.
CHAPTER EIGHT
He shouldn’t have told her.
No. He had to tell her. That was one of the rules of the Vampire Assassin League. No human could be turned unless they knew the truth and agreed. That included mates. There’d been
very few exceptions. Very few.
He should have waited.
No. Time did not solve anything. A thing did not become easier with procrastination. It became harder, and loomed larger.
He could have used better words.
How? He’d been raised to be introspective. Contemplative. Take time to consider each word, weigh the consequences. There were four things that could not be taken back. The careless word was one of them.
And all of that had equaled what?
He had his mate in his arms, he was still sheathed within her, but she was looking at him with something indefinable in her wide dragon green eyes. He didn’t recognize her expression. It looked like a combination of shock and horror, mixed with skepticism. He’d never come up against such a conundrum, nor a more inopportune time. His body was vibrating in place. He probably still glowed with the remaining throes of paradise. He’d just experienced bliss. Boundless joy. Absolute rapture.
For the first time in his existence.
He didn’t know how he’d managed to communicate at all. Everything was too satiated. Almost drugged. And he certainly hadn’t weighed anything before he said it. It appeared that he should also have taken her from the room before the sprinkling system activated.
He’d been wet many times. Bathing. Rainfall. He’d forgotten what it felt like. The silk was getting saturated atop him. The material grew chilled and clammy, stealing warmth. The smell was another issue. Wet wood smell was combined with assorted other burnt items. It wasn’t pleasant.
He decided, in hindsight, that there were a lot of things he should have done differently.
“Um. Takeshi? We need to have a talk,” she informed him.
Good. She wasn’t looking horrified or shocked anymore. He couldn’t tell about her eyes. She’d moved her gaze. She appeared to be focusing on his mouth. He nodded.
“Before that, um. We need to get up,” she continued.
He nodded again.
“And then we need to get dressed. Okay?”
A strange thing happened to him. Sudden. Intense. A sharp itch stung both eyes. It was accompanied by a blizzard of shivering. Cold shivers. He hadn’t anything to go by, but could this be...an urge to weep?