I sighed against him and within seconds, somehow, was asleep. My only thoughts were on his last whispered words and the fact that to each other, we were simply the world.
Chapter 9
Saying Good-Bye
I woke up entirely too turned on. For a moment or two, confusion reined. Was I still dreaming? Was I back in Álfheimr and all that I had thought had happened - being reunited with Michel, seeing my vampires again, the Château - was an incredibly cruel dream? I sucked in a breath at that thought and then released it on a moan of delight, thinking to hell with it, if this was a dream, I'd let it play out before dissecting it to shreds.
A large, warm hand wrapped around my breast from behind, the heat of a body encased my back and thighs as we lay on our sides, and then the exquisite feeling of Michel stretching me deliciously wide as he slid inside from behind. Dream or no dream, this was heaven.
"Ma douce," he groaned, hot breath washing the hair at the back of my head. His face began to nuzzle the curve where my neck met my shoulder. "I couldn't wait for you to wake up," he added, bringing a little clarity to the situation, which was quickly overshadowed by utter bliss. "Not when your dreams," - a groan - "were so intoxicating," he threw in as he finally seated himself deep within.
I felt complete. Whole. Perfect again.
And most definitely awake. Reality, in all its gorgeous, sometimes terrifying, but most often and especially right now, beautiful splendour came washing back in - and I relished it. I relished Michel. The feel of skin on skin, his heat entrapping me, his arms securing me, his touch releasing me; bringing me alive with a simple swipe of his fingers across sensitive flesh. I was his to command and he knew how to make my body - me - fly.
Our movements were fluid, slow, languid, yet electrifying at the same time. Every purposeful thrust of his hips, shift of his pelvis, elicited a response from me - usually a moan of delight or a plea for more. Our breathing sped up, our heartbeats escalated, but still our movements were so blessedly sensual, delightfully paced, reverently beautiful.
Michel could love me in so many delicious and different ways. Sometimes I never knew which he would choose. But, right in this instant, this was my favourite. Slow, purposeful, waking us both up in a such an intimate, decadent and luscious way. I craved his body. His touch. Him. But it was obvious he craved me just as much.
No matter what happened in our lives, Michel and I would always feel this.
"Michel," I half whispered, half moaned. His hand slipped down from my breast to between my thighs and his fingers began to deftly slide exactly over the right spot.
"Yes, ma belle?" he rasped against my hair. I whimpered as his fingers made a particularly beautiful sweep at just the perfect pressure. "That's it," he encouraged. "Show me."
I unravelled in an exquisite rainbow of colours, my body reacting to his touch, to what he was doing to me both inside and out. A soft moan escaped my lips, his name lost in amongst the sound. I heard his groan of delight combine with mine, felt his teeth scrape across my sweat soaked skin and then the hot spurt of his release inside. We both sunk further into the mattress, letting the moment wash over us, taking our breath away for a few seconds, leaving us completely sated and utterly loved.
Michel kissed my shoulder softly, wrapped his arm around my waist, giving a small squeeze and then lightly said, "Good afternoon, ma douce. Sleep well?"
I couldn't stop the giggle that erupted out of my mouth. He chuckled in return.
"Hmm." Another soft caress from his lips. "I can't seem to keep my hands off you," he admitted in a deep, sexy purr.
"Is that such a bad thing?" I asked, snuggling in further to his embrace, delighting in his touch.
"Not at all," he conceded. "Only..." A kiss against my naked shoulder, the sweep of his thumb over my taut nipple. "I may never let you go, if I continue."
"Not bad at all, then," I said on a rush of air as his tongue found that sensitive spot behind my earlobe.
"Minx," he chastised playfully. "How am I expected to get any work done if I am succumbing to your demands?"
Now wait just a minute. "Demands?" I said and arched an eyebrow at him over my shoulder.
His chest rumbled with his silent laughter, the feeling of his body moving against mine in such a fashion was spellbinding. I think I forgot to breathe. He stopped short, noticing my lack of breath, and raised an eyebrow of his own.
"I forgot how mesmerising you are," I admitted finally.
His eyes flashed magenta, his lips parted showing a glint of fangs behind. His vampire-within was responding to my words just as much as the man. I shifted so I could look up at him, lying flat on my back. My hand came up to cup his cheek as he hovered over me, my eyes never leaving his beautiful violet ones.
"My kindred," I said in a daze. When was I not in a daze looking at Michel?
"Mine," he replied, his eyelids lowering seductively, but his gaze firmly locked on me.
For several moments neither of us spoke. Too wrapped up in the realisation that we were together again. Kindred again. For him, like me, nothing could compare to that.
It was me who broke the spell. "I don't know how I'm going to leave you to go to London. How I'm going to let you go alone to Paris." The admission actually hurt. I held my breath again.
Michel looked pained for a moment, and then finally lowered his head to rest his forehead against mine. There was a time when Michel could mask his emotions well, hide behind a vampire mask of impassivity. Not anymore. Not with me. He inhaled deeply. I waited for him to say something, but it never came. He just held me, forehead against forehead, but didn't utter a sound.
It dawned on me, that there was nothing he could say. It was what it was and neither of us wanted it that way.
"For a few more minutes can we pretend we don't have responsibilities?" I asked eventually.
His lips curved into a delicious grin.
"I can give you better than a few more minutes, ma douce." The grin turned a little wicked.
"You can?" I asked, in mock surprise.
"Oui," he said in that delightful French accent of his. I smiled despite the decidedly mischievous grin now gracing his face. "I can give you..." - he paused, flicked his gaze across the bed somewhere, then returned to look down at me - "oh, about ninety or so."
I must have frowned, because his grin turned into a legitimate smile. Blinding in its beauty.
"We have at least an hour and a half before we need to get ready to leave." Hmm. Only ninety minutes. "You seem disappointed," he remarked. The smile, though, remained.
I couldn't stay frustrated with that gorgeous face hovering above me, but I refused to give in too easily to his charm.
"You'll have to make the short amount of time worthwhile, then," I suggested in a pretend huff.
His eyes flashed an alluring combination of violets.
"Oh, I'm sure I am up to the task, ma douce."
I couldn't contain my smile any further. Michel's exuberance, when like this, was infectious.
"Put your money where your mouth is then, vampire."
"I'd rather put my mouth where my mind is," he shot back and proceeded to show me exactly where his mind currently was.
Ninety minutes wasn't nearly enough, but if there's one thing to say about Michel Durand: Master Vampire, he's very good at time management. I can honestly say I have never had a better hour and a half, and I was quite sure the memories of what he did to me, made me feel, branded on my mind, would stay with me forever. And I think that was exactly his intention too. To give me delicious lasting memories to take away with me.
I watched on quietly as he dressed in his signature Armani suit, after we had both showered and reluctantly parted. My fingers itched to continue to touch him. The desire to do so was impossible to ignore. With his back to me, I stood silently from the bed and walked up behind him. My hands found his shoulders without conscious thought. The familiar shape of his broad back was like coming home to my fingers. He stilled i
n tying his tie, his eyes lifting to mine in the mirror. I held his gaze, continuing to stroke my hand reverently over his back, down his sides, across his rear. Even through the fabric of his suit he felt divine.
"It is only three days, ma douce," he said softly, homing in on the exact emotion I was desperately - and unsuccessfully - trying to ignore.
"I know," I said softly.
He turned around and lifted his hands up to cup my cheeks. His eyes wandered across my face, every place his gaze landed sent a thrill through my body. The man could melt with a look alone.
"Tu es la raison de mon existence, ma petite lumière," he whispered, his voice low and slightly rough. "Je ne suis rien sans toi. Tu apportes la lumière et la joie à ma vie." He brought his forehead down gently to rest against mine. I felt his hot breath wash my lips. "Je t'aime, ma douce. Je t'aime."
I'd learned a little French in the time I had known Michel. And he had called me his little light and said I was the reason for his existence to me before. But his beautifully spoken and heartfelt words now, simply melted my heart, stole my breath away, and seared themselves into the very depths of my soul.
I am nothing without you. You bring light and joy to my life. I love you, my sweet one. I love you.
There was a romantic deep inside this vampire. It wasn't the part of him that came from the dragon-within. It was from the part of him, that had once been human. When I first met Michel he had almost forgotten that side of himself. Necessity, the cruel winds of fate, experiences, had all made him lock his humanity away, seal it behind Dark doors. It had taken time and patience - sometimes a whole lot of patience - to shed Light on that part of him again.
But more and more I saw the man behind the vampire. The human man he once was.
And I loved him as much as I loved what made him vampire. The two parts to his soul. The two parts to Michel Durand. To me he could not be one without the other. To me... he was perfect.
"I love you, too," I whispered, reaching up on the tip of my toes and laying a delicate - almost chaste - kiss against his lips.
He let a sound out that could have been mistaken for pain, but the deepening of the kiss he returned to me, let me know this was a much wanted type of pain. Leaving him was the hardest thing to do. But knowing he loved me and wanted me and missed me as much as I missed him, made it easier to bear. Sharing the pain made it possible to do.
We had responsibilities. He was the Champion now. To the Nosferatu. And, if we had our way, to the Nosferatin as well. Somewhere throughout the centuries the Iunctio, as it stands today, forgot that. Like vampires, they turned towards the Dark and in doing so, they turned their back on their Lighter brethren: the Nosferatin. Michel had once told me that we were once of the same ilk. Nosferatu and Nosferatin. Nero, my friend and Nosferatin trainer, had mentioned it as well, although exactly how we were that, was lost in the passing of time. Nero had assumed the Nosferatu God was related to our Goddess, Nut in some way. But in all that I have seen and heard, since starting this life, never has it been proven so.
Still, I did believe, that in some way, Nosferatu and Nosferatin were more than just connected. How could we not be? We are their kindred. They are ours. We are stronger together, weaker apart. Nosferatin are designed to bring the Nosferatu back towards the Light. It is ingrained in us, something we cannot deny. When I feel the pull to a Dark vampire, I have no choice but to go to them. And as the Prophesied; the one Nosferatin destined to balance out the Light with the Dark, I am also compelled to do more.
Save them. Wash them in my Light. Hold their Dark dear.
But I am not alone in that. Amisi, Yves, Sophie, Arthur and his London team of Nosferatins, all feel the need to save them too. I just have added abilities that make the job a little easier. I can seek them with my Sanguis Vitam Cupitor talent. I can lure them with my Prohibitum Bibere talent. And finally, I can balance their Dark with my Light, with my Lux Lucis Tribuo talent. All of which shows just how entwined our destinies are. Nosferatu and Nosferatin.
To Michel there can be no stronger evidence that the Iunctio should be for both of our kind. And now he was in a position to do something about that. He was the Champion. This was important. He needed to return to Paris, to be where the Iunctio is based. And as it was such a precarious time, I understood that I could not.
Besides, I had my own job to do.
"Right," I said resolutely, causing Michel to pull his forehead away from mine. He smiled down at me, no doubt having heard my rambling, but I think quite accurate, mental monologue. "Time to get a move on," I added, and his smile widened.
I shook my head at him, a smile of my own gracing my lips, and turned to finish packing my bag. I was already dressed, I could be quick when the need arose, and the desire to watch Michel dress earlier had made me dress in record time. I had on my normal hunting gear, even though I had no intention of hunting when we landed in London. Black short mini skirt, tights as it would be colder in England, knee high boots, with a black fitted T-shirt and jacket. My stakes and dagger were already in place, but my Svante sword was sitting in its sheath next to my bag. I'd put that on when we were about to land at Heathrow. I was wearing my dancing dragon necklace, I don't think I'd ever take that off again.
"Ready?" Michel asked, once I'd zipped up my bag.
"Absolutely," I replied, with a modicum of false bravado. I may be able to tell myself this was all necessary, my head may believe it. But my heart never would acquiesce so easily. I would miss him, there was no denying that.
"I will miss you also, ma douce," Michel said softly, proving just how much he was inside my head right now. He walked the short distance between us, clasped my upper arms bringing my body forward and my lips in line for a slow, sexy and delicious kiss.
When we parted, I was breathless.
"How do you do that?" I asked, a little embarrassed by my body's reaction to a simple - or not so simple - kiss.
He chuckled, but didn't answer, just wrapped an arm around my shoulders and turned me towards the door to the room. Marcus appeared in the next instant, nodded to Michel and proceeded to grab my bag and sword from the bed. Clearly Michel had sent out a telepathic message to my guard as soon as we were ready to leave. I wondered how long Marcus had been waiting outside for the signal. Goddess I hoped it hadn't been for the past hour and a half.
Everyone was waiting downstairs in the entranceway. Talking quietly, patiently waiting for their master and mistress to be ready to leave the house. Everyone that is, except Samson. My eyes searched the gathered crowd. Matthew and Kathleen were there. Christopher, my Tego Texi Tectum duo. M&M, as well as Michel's shadow guards; Antonio and Ricardo. Even the two Parisian Nosferatins. But no Samson.
Michel went to talk quietly with Matthew and Kathleen, so I approached Natalyia to find out where my vampire had got to. Surely he was here somewhere.
"Mistress," Natalyia said in her deep Russian accented voice. If I closed my eyes, I'd have a hard time telling her voice apart from her brother's.
"Hey. Where's Samson?" I was never one to beat about the bush.
"He has left, Mistress," she said, softly. Maybe to cushion the blow she knew her words would give.
"Left?" I asked, but my voice was flat.
"Yes. He took an earlier flight out of Grenoble back to New Zealand."
I didn't know what to say. Samson, the first vampire of my Lux Lucis Tribuo line, had left without saying good-bye. It felt like a knife had sliced right through my heart. They say you shouldn't have a favourite. That you should love all your children equally. And Sergei and Natalyia were loved. But Samson...
Michel appeared at my side out of nowhere, his arm wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me close to his chest. His head buried in the side of my neck, hot breath across my skin. A protective move, aimed to soothe me, to buffer me from the world. But he couldn't buffer me from what Samson had done. From what Samson's actions had made me feel.
My vampire was suffering and he wouldn't let me
close enough to help. I wanted to help him, but he couldn't even stay long enough to say good-bye.
How could I help Samson, if he was hell-bent on running so far away from me?
Chapter 10
London's Welcome
Two helicopters waited out under the moon and stars for us, not far from the Château. One much larger than the other, both jet black and sleek. Vampire pilots stood patiently next to each machine. I didn't know either of them, but they were clearly of Michel's line. Michel had a large vampire family, even though I had known him for over three years now, there were still parts of Michel's life I hadn't yet been introduced to. A five hundred year old vampire has a long history.
Our entourage walked towards the helicopters, splitting up between the two. M&M, Sergei, Natalyia, and Sophie all walked towards the smaller of the choppers, while Antonio, Ricardo, Yves and I noticed two more vampire guards of Michel's line, traipsed towards the larger machine. Michel stopped next to me. I could feel his eyes on my face as I stared out numbly towards our separated groups.
My mind was stuck back on Samson. I needed to get my head in the game by the time we landed in London. But I just didn't have it in me to be too concerned with that yet. We would be transferring to Michel's private jet at Grenoble Airport. There was still time.
Michel sighed, bringing my attention back to him at my side.
"Give him time, ma douce," he said quietly. "He does not realise he hurts you. He is hurting too much himself to be aware."
"You're defending him," I said, slightly surprised that Michel wasn't breaking land-speed records in an effort to whack some sense into Samson for causing me grief.
"Oh, if he were here I would have something to say to his face. As it is, he will receive a visit from Doug upon his return to Auckland." Oh. That's OK then. Michel huffed out a sound which was clearly meant to be a laugh. It made me turn towards him, to catch the expression on his face before it was gone. I wasn't disappointed. His lips were tipped up at the edges, magenta shone brightly out of his eyes.
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