by Aja James
As her inner muscles contracted around his manhood with a pressure that was almost painful, Gabriel surrendered to his own climax, his seed surging within her, flooding her womb.
It had only been a few minutes, but Gabriel felt like he’d run a marathon. They were both breathing heavily, their nostrils flaring. They hadn’t even bothered to sit or lie down, still standing at the foot of the bed, he supporting all of her weight with her strong legs and arms wrapped around him like tentacles.
She licked the wounds at his throat and chest closed and rested her face against his heart. The organ was working double time, pumping more life-giving blood throughout his body, keeping his penis hot and fully erect within her.
Inanna sighed. Now that the edge of hunger was dulled, albeit only slightly, she could focus on the finer details of their mating.
Like how his skin felt like satin stretched over steel and smelled of sunshine and ocean. How his blood blossomed on her tongue with a rich explosion of flavor, tangy, sweet, uniquely Gabriel. How his manhood still throbbed tantalizingly within her, fitting to completion as no male had before him.
His hands had moved from her ass to her back and were now stroking her spine gently, soothingly.
She felt cared for. Protected and loved.
Again, tears threatened at the back of her throat.
How she’d missed this.
In all her long existence she’d never had this soul-deep feeling of belonging and peace.
Except with him.
It didn’t make sense. How could she miss something she’d never experienced?
“I love you.”
She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, and she said it so quietly she wasn’t sure he heard her. But the words refused to stay inside. Strangely, she’d wanted to say them the first time she encountered him years ago. And every time she’d seen him since they hovered on the tip of her tongue.
And finally, her heart would no longer be denied. It demanded to speak its truth. Only to him. Always to him.
Gabriel stilled at her confession, even his breath froze. Only his heart increased its frantic pumping, as if it was trying to beat its way out of his chest and into her hands like a faithful hound charging toward its owner.
He could feel it, her absolute possession of him as his Blooded Mate. His body was attuned to her every need. His blood rushed to quench her thirst. His heart… his heart yearned to answer her pledge so badly he hurt physically from the strain of holding back.
Those words were a vow. Once said, he would never unsay them.
He had already grown to care for her deeply within a short period of time. He admired her sense of rightness, her honor and commitment, her courage to find joy even amidst death and destruction. He loved that Benji adored her and the feeling was exceedingly mutual. Children were the most ignorant and yet the wisest of us all. Their innocence allowed them to discern the truth beneath veneers. They saw people not as titles, stations, backgrounds and skills, but for who they were when everything else was stripped away.
And if Benji loved her, it spoke volumes about who Nana Chastain was.
And yet… and yet Gabriel did not fully know her.
Starting with her name, which he never felt comfortable saying. There was so much of her history he didn’t understand. And for that matter, so much of his own that he was still unraveling.
He didn’t know whether it was an effect of the turning or not, but he was frequently flooded with images from another time, images that felt like memories. Memories which held him back. Because he felt as if he’d already given his heart away, though he knew it wasn’t in his human life. Were there past lives for every soul? Did past lives hold sway over the present and future?
He needed to answer these questions before he answered her vow.
Eventually, he would.
He knew that without a doubt. They were Mated. He belonged to her. But when he surrendered all of himself, he would do so with full knowledge of who he was and who he had been.
Then, he would give her everything. Forevermore.
Presently, he carried her a couple of steps to the bed, never breaking their intimate connection, the slide of his penis within her making her emit a sound that was half purr, half growl. Music to his ears.
As he laid her down on the soft down comforter, he moved with her, still joined, and covered her thoroughly with his body.
Her arms loosened around his neck so that her hands could go exploring across his shoulders and back, following the deep groove of his spine to his taut buttocks. There they stayed to pay proper homage to the tight, firm muscles, kneaded and squeezed, pushing him deeper within her.
Gabriel gave her bursts of small but potent thrusts to massage her pleasure center inside while his pubic bone pressed deliciously on her clitoris with every rub. Within seconds, she convulsed tightly around him, milking his sex with voracious pulls.
He couldn’t hold back his release even if he wanted to. His body knew its duty and gave her the Nourishment of his seed in wave after hot, surging wave.
Still he kept moving, his hips maintaining the rhythm of their heartbeat, the cadence of their breaths, stroking her inside and out endlessly, until one orgasm triggered another, and another, like a fuse lit along a string of fireworks, exploding through their bodies one by one, each more glorious than the last.
Sweat and fluids from their bodies tangled the sheets around them. His sex was sore and well-used, still swollen and hard within her, throbbing with a delicious pain that reached down into his balls, into his bones, though the contractions of her inner muscles were less wrenching than before.
He raised up slightly on his elbows and looked into her eyes as he continued the steady, pulsing thrusts.
She wore the expression of a woman slain by ecstasy, her eyes barely open, her lips parted on languorous, contented sighs. She blinked once slowly, and as if her eyelids were simply too heavy to keep lifted, her lashes swooped down over the deep blue orbs and a satisfied smile curled her lips.
Gabriel dipped his head down to cover her smiling mouth with his own, wanting to taste the sunshine and sweetness of her joy. She opened her lips obligingly and welcomed the entry of his tongue. Leisurely, she sucked at him, while below, her vagina continued to milk his cock.
As she crested over another orgasm, she nipped his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
“Mine,” she growled huskily, and lapped at the small wound with her tongue, savoring every drop of him.
Gabriel groaned as his own release followed closely on the heels of hers, flooding them both with thick, gushing semen.
At last, his hips stilled, though both their bodies quivered and shook with the intensity of their passion.
Everywhere he felt a tingling soreness, from the toes of his feet to the roots of his hair. He had never felt so exhausted and replete in his life. He could probably lie here, on top of this bed, his body inside of hers, for an entire lifetime, so contented and at charity with the world was he.
Yet even so, his wayward shaft jerked insistently, as if wanting to start another round of orgy. Clearly, it did not know its own limitations.
Before Gabriel could either give his penis a lecture or give in to its boasts, a muffled voice came from beyond their bedroom door.
“I heard a loud noise, Daddy. Did you fall and hurt yourself? Can we go outside to play now? Can we go ice-skating too?”
An indelicate snort sounded in Gabriel’s ear, and then another.
He looked down and saw that his Mate was trying unsuccessfully to control her chortles, her mirth wetting her eyes, squeezed into crescent moons from her laughter.
An answering grin spread across Gabriel’s mouth and his throaty chuckles joined hers.
Ah, parenthood. And all the exquisite timing it wrought.
No matter what changed in his life, he could always count on that.
“Any issue from the union of a Dark One and an inferior Breed must be a monstrous abomination, fi
tting into neither world, reviled and mistrusted by all. Such a union must be prevented at all cost. If it cannot be averted, then offspring must not be allowed to exist. If it exists, then it must be hunted down and destroyed.”
—Excerpt from the Dark Laws, verse forty-seven of the Ecliptic Scrolls
Chapter Fifteen
“You are up late in the day. What keeps you?”
Simone Lafayette looked up from her ancient tome to see Devlin Sinclair leaning casually against the entrance to the library, one floor below the throne room in the Cove, where the most valuable written records of their race were housed.
She shut the volume gently and placed it back in its cage, which locked itself the moment the book was inside.
The library was a giant oval with concentric ovals of stacked gold cages from floor to ceiling, suspended by gold cables overhead, each metal box containing a priceless piece of the Dark Ones’ history.
There were thousands of volumes in this chamber, each with hundreds of pages, which contained small, painstakingly written words in countless languages, lost and current, most of which were written in blood, for it was far more permanent than ink.
Even so, if the Dark histories were the sands of the Saharan desert, the records here represented a single grain.
“I am researching our mysterious guest, the Pure Ones’ Consul,” Simone replied, coming to stand before another gilded cage. At her touch, the box unlocked and opened to reveal the treasure inside.
“And what have you found?” the Hunter inquired. “Or is it classified information for our Queen’s ears only?”
Even though the library was dedicated to the Dark Ones’ history, inevitably many of the volumes contained details of notable Pure Ones, and humans too, for that matter. The Great War was written about at length, but mostly by historians thousands of years after the fact, based on legends that were passed from generation to generation, likely by word of mouth.
Simone did not know the exact age of Seth Tremaine, hence she had to start as far back as she could. It was a painstaking process requiring a deep understanding of the history of the Races as well as a proficiency in dozens of different languages, especially ones that no longer existed.
“Nothing much to report at present time,” she answered, “except that he is probably between three and four thousand years old, likely Egyptian in origin. I will look through those volumes next.”
Devlin nodded, his gaze piercing despite his nonchalant posture. “He makes an exceptional Blood Slave for our Queen then, being one so ancient and strong. The benefits she reaps from his Nourishment is readily apparent. She now only dozes at night and stays awake throughout the day.”
Simone carefully turned a page in the volume she was holding, her eyes scanning the words. “One wonders how long she intends to keep him to sustain her burgeoning powers. Surely the Pure Ones will not countenance his indefinite absence from their circle.”
“Hmm,” Devlin said noncommittally. Then, “You are looking very well yourself, Keeper. Have you done something different with your diet?”
Simone flicked a glance at the other Chosen and looked back at her pages. “Nothing in particular, why do you ask?”
His voice was slightly fainter as he moved away, circling behind her. “Lately, you are often out all night while staying busy throughout the day. One would think the lack of rest would take a toll, but you are glowing with health and beauty—as always.”
He smiled flirtatiously at her, but she was not deceived.
“You seem awfully interested in my comings and goings, Hunter,” she said with a hint of steel in her voice.
“I am curious about everything and everyone,” Devlin said dispassionately on a slight sigh. “Apologies if I offend.”
For several moments there was blessed silence, albeit an uncomfortable one. At least for Simone.
When she looked up from her book, Simone realized with a start that he was suddenly not two feet away from her, his hand idly passing across a row of cages.
His stealth must come in handy during the hunt.
“Is there a particular volume you are looking for?” Simone asked solicitously, trying to hide her wariness of the Hunter’s mood.
The library was implicitly her domain, as the Keeper of the Race’s history. And although she did not know Devlin’s exact age, the resonance of his blood was much lighter than her own, indicating that he was hundreds, if not a thousand years younger than herself. It was unlikely he could read and understand even a tenth of the volumes present.
He gave a slight shrug as he kept perusing the caged books; only one ring of the hanging “shelves” separated them.
“Just idling.” He glanced at her beneath the thick sweep of his long, golden lashes through the mesh-wire chains that held the gold cages suspended in position. “Are all of our histories written in these tomes?”
“Only the most important of us, of course,” Simone replied. “Only the royals, nobles, scholars and artists of great repute.”
“And the most dastardly of villains and traitors, I imagine.”
Simone paused and held his gaze. Alarmingly, she felt like a mouse hypnotized by a deadly viper about to strike. Her discomfort was increasing exponentially by the minute. What was he after?
The Chosen had been together for many years; some of them had known each other for several lifetimes. But the Hunter was a relatively new addition to Jade Cicada’s inner circle, and though he was usually friendly and charming, he was also extremely private and unknowable. Simone and his working relationship had been mostly limited up to now, as they operated in vastly different spheres. They could certainly not be called friends.
“Yes,” she admitted, “both the famous and the infamous have been documented to the extent they could be. But what we have here, and frankly, what we have in the entire world of our Race’s history, is woefully incomplete. And likely biased, as all histories are.”
Devlin seemed to consider this. “Every story has many perspectives, doesn’t it? One person’s truth is another person’s lie. One person’s love is another person’s hate.”
Simone replaced the volume she was holding back in its cage and walked briskly to the library’s solid gold and oak double-doors. She breathed a small sigh of relief when he did not pursue her.
“I must attend other duties,” she said by way of farewell, “Do let me know if I can assist you another time.”
He inclined his head and smiled ironically, his laser blue eyes spearing into her departing back.
Once the doors were shut, Devlin moved to the place where the Keeper was first found standing and took the book she’d been holding from its compartment. He flipped to the page she had been reading and stared for a few seconds at the incomprehensible text. He flipped to a couple of pages before it and a couple of pages after it and did the same. Then he shut the book, put it back and left the library in long, leisurely strides.
It should only take him a few hours to decipher the meaning of the writing on those half a dozen pages he’d memorized with perfect photographic clarity.
*** *** *** ***
Inanna did not know whether it was the love and blood fest they just shared or whether it was because of the Pure soul he supposedly possessed, but thankfully, Gabriel seemed immune to the effects of the sun.
They had carefully ventured out mid-afternoon, two hours before the sun was to set, so that Benji could have the run of the park and enjoy the relative winter warmth before freezing temperatures set in after dark.
Inanna could not remember a happier time. She was with the two males she loved most in the world. She hadn’t laughed or smiled so much in the whole of her existence.
They held hands walking through the park, Benji skipping exuberantly between them. They had chocolate fondue at the tourist hotspot and local favorite “Serendipity,” made popular by a movie of the same name. They skated together at Wollan Rink, falling several times, first because Inanna wasn’t the steadiest on her
skating feet, then because Benji thought it was hilarious to drag her and Daddy down in a heap of squeals and laughter.
They picked up a week’s worth of clothes, shoes and essentials for the boys at Macy’s, to be delivered to the apartment the next morning. Inanna would have the rest of their things picked up from their old studio when it was safe to do so.
Benji was missing his Lamby blanket especially.
They ate beef short ribs, seafood pancake, bibimbap and bulgogi in a hole-in-the-wall Korean restaurant in Brooklyn, and were presently making their way to the subway station that would take them home, strolling off a few calories from their scrumptious meal.
“Let’s stop at a tea shop I know,” Inanna said on a spurt of inspiration. “You’ll love the croissants and shortbread there.”
Gabriel smiled in agreement and Benji nodded enthusiastically.
This was the bestest day for him too, Benji thought. All was right in the world when Mommy and Daddy were together with him. He wondered how soon he could ask for a pet chinchilla, like the ones he saw on National Geographic. And better yet, whether he could have a baby brother or sister by next Christmas.
Before long, they arrived at “Dark Dreams.” It was already half past nine, but the shop was lit from within by flickering light from antique lamps that bathed every corner with a soft, cheery glow.
Inanna opened the door with a jingle and called, “Hello? Are you open to visitors? I have a couple of introductions I’d like to make.”
A few moments later, Mama Bear appeared from behind the curtain of beads, took one look at Inanna and added more wrinkles to her round, merry face with a beaming smile.
“Well, come on in, my dear,” she welcomed as she ushered the three of them inside and seated them at the same table she always sat with Inanna at. “I just received a new tea from India I’m dying to try out, and I’ve baked a fresh batch of scones. You’re just in time to share them with me.”