by Mara Lee
He caught her clit. It was full and tight and soft as satin. He ran his finger tenderly over the hard nub but she arched her hips and demanded more. He squeezed it then, rubbing it between his two fingers, increasing the pressure until it fattened and seemed to burn his flesh.
Sheridan reached between their straining bodies to grab his cock. She rubbed the head, and smiled when Xethre groaned.
Xethre removed his fingers from Sheridan’s wet pussy but before she could protest he was there, shoving his cock forcefully into her needy body. “Hard, fast …fast … I’m … sorry…” Xethre gripped Sheridan’s hips and began to ride her body—hard.
Sheridan knew what he needed. She needed it just as desperately as he did. She met him stroke for stroke. Her hands grabbed his back and her nails bit deeply into his flesh. She wrapped her legs around his waist and ground her pelvis against him. His hard flesh was pulsing, growing within her, and she could feel her own body responding.
Her pussy was on fire and her heart was thudding frantically against the restraints of her chest. She felt her inner muscles spasm and she dug her feet into the flesh of his ass, anchoring herself even more firmly against him.
Sheridan could feel every vein, every ridge of Xethre’s powerful cock as he plowed further and further into her body. He was hard, hot, steel, and she was the velvet glove that welcomed him.
Sheridan bit her lip so hard she drew blood. And suddenly Xethre was there, lapping up the blood, running his tongue over the smooth fullness of her lips. His thrusts became harder, more demanding still, and Sheridan knew he was close. She placed the flesh of his shoulder within her teeth and bit—hard.
Xethre growled, and ground himself harder against her.
Sheridan felt her pussy clench and little tremors began to seize her. She opened her mouth to scream, to shout, to shriek her pleasure but Xethre’s hand against her mouth stopped her. He pressed his hand tightly against her lips; his eyes—turquoise fire—captured her.
He bent his head over the white column of her neck and placed his mouth over the pulse he found there. When her back arched and her hips flew off the ground, he pierced her skin and drank, allowing himself to take her blood as he emptied himself within her.
* * * *
Sheridan traced a line with her finger from Xethre’s eyebrow to his jaw. She smiled into his solemn face.
“Tell me.”
Xethre’s jaw clenched and when he spoke his words were edged in steel. “What would you know?”
Sheridan sighed. “All of it. But you can start with why the mention of this vampire’s name made you go all ballistic.”
“Pathos,” Xethre hissed.
“Yeah, Pathos. Tell me.”
Xethre sat, bracing his back against the couch. “Pathos is … a member of the vampire Council.”
“Okay.”
“A new member, his status is not as secure as those of the old lines. Nevertheless he is strong.” Xethre’s eyes darkened. “I do not care for him.”
Sheridan nodded slowly. “Uh-huh, I can see that.”
“Pathos and I have some … history.”
By the look in his eyes, it wasn’t good history. Sheridan rubbed her hands up and down his arms, willing him to continuing.
“Have I told you about companions, little one?”
Sheridan shook her head.
Xethre slowly related the facts about vampires and their companions to her. Sheridan took the information in. Rolling it around in her brain and filtering it out. “So, not every vampire can have a companion.”
“Only the able, only the strong, can bind one to them. And even then, a vampire must ask the Council, often beg to be able to take a companion.”
“Power trip,” Sheridan murmured.
He nodded. “Indeed. The Council, they are all about power.”
“So … this Pathos is one of the Council.”
“Yes. His seat however new, demands attention.”
“You knew him before he was part of the Council, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “I liked him little when he was merely one of the flock, but I detested him when he took his seat on the Council.”
Sheridan had to ask again. “Why?”
“Because, as a one of the flock he was arrogant, cruel and sadistic … but as one of the Council he is an arrogant, cruel, sadistic vampire with limitless power.”
“Sadistic?”
“Oh yes, Pathos’s pretty face hides a nature blacker than even the dark wish to know.”
Sheridan shuddered.
“There was this novice, Catherine.”
“Novice? Like nun?” Sheridan asked.
Xethre’s lip twitched. “Not quite yet a nun, little one. A novice has yet to take their final vows.”
“Uh, okay.”
“Catherine had been forced into the convent by her family. Her stepmother was a very jealous woman and Catherine was a very beautiful young girl. Catherine’s stepmother convinced her husband, Catherine’s father, to send her to the convent. It was not the life Catherine wanted. Catherine was a free spirit, a mischievous soul. She could never be satisfied with the spirit. She wished for the flesh.”
Sheridan frowned. She didn’t like how Xethre spoke of this Catherine. He had known her, known her well. And she didn’t like it one bit.
“I met Catherine, quite by accident. She was gathering medicinal herbs in the forest…” Xethre’s voice drifted off. His eyes were unfocused as if seeing it all, in front of him. “She was lovely, sweet and … innocent. I knew … I knew she was not meant for the cloistered life. I knew from the first moment I saw her. We met as often as we could. And when I finally revealed myself to her, she was not disgusted as I thought she would be, but intrigued and seduced.” Xethre’s voice grew cold. “She begged me to Turn her. She wished to be vampire, like I. She wanted to taste eternity and reign by my side. I denied her. I told her that I could not make her vampire. That I could not take her without the permission of the Council. She begged and she pleaded, but I would not relent.” Xethre ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “I offered her an alternative. I told her that I would bind her to me. She could be my human bound companion. Her life span would echo mine, but she would still be human.”
Sheridan searched Xethre’s face. “Somehow I’m guessing she didn’t like that alternative.”
“You guess correctly. Catherine sought out the Council. I had told her too much of their existence and she found them and pleaded her case. The Council accepted her request.”
Sheridan gasped. “What? Couldn’t they see she was a spoiled, selfish, self-indulgent…”
He smiled. “You see all that, merely from what I have told you?”
Sheridan nodded. “Yeah, I mean, come on. You offered her eternity and humanity and she refused you. I don’t think so.”
Xethre felt unaccustomed warmth spread through his cold body. Perhaps … perhaps there was hope after all. But first he had to tell her the rest. “But Catherine could not have known about … Pathos.”
Sheridan gulped. Ick. Why did she just know she wasn’t going to like this?
“Pathos, a new member of the Council, wanted Catherine. And what a Council member wants, a Council member gets. Pathos did indeed take Catherine, but he did not Turn her. He bound her to him, just as I had offered to do for her, and kept her with him as his human bound companion. Thus she was no vampire, and had no powers to call her own. Her status as Pathos’s human bound companion was no greater than that of a servant.” Xethre clenched his hands into tight fists. “And Pathos was never known to treat his servants well. Catherine survived a little over one hundred years … before she … before she diminished.”
“Diminished?” Sheridan asked hesitantly.
“Pathos killed her. The abuse, the torture … the misery … it destroyed her in the end.” Xethre turned his face away from Sheridan then; he did not want her to see the guilt, the anger written in his eyes. “I … I … did not love her. She was just
a pretty thing. And I believe I became enamored of the spark of life I saw in her. But I did not love her. I would have, however, taken her with me, given her companionship if she had accepted. After she refused me, I thought little of her. She passed from my mind like a fleeting shadow a forgotten memory. I should have tried harder. I should have…”
Sheridan brought her hand to his cheek and moved his head back to look at her. “It was not your fault, Xethre. You gave her a choice. She made hers.” She smiled into his face. “We all make choices … to love is to err.”
Xethre’s eyes sparked and he took her face within his palms. “So said a friend of mine once.”
She grinned. “You have friends? Ones that aren’t dead?”
He laughed. “Sophie, her name is Sophie, and I will introduce you to her one day soon, my Sheridan.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, my name, now I know it’s serious.”
Xethre just knew. There was no time but now. She was here. She accepted him. And his love could not be contained. He looked deeply into her eyes and said, simply, “I love you.”
Sheridan’s mouth dropped open and her heart stopped. “Huh?”
“I love you, Sheridan Malaya Duskul. I love you. I love the way you laugh, the way your eyes light up and flash fire. I love the way you pout and scream and talk me down. I love how you hold my body close and the light I see shining from your eyes. But most of all, I love how you nurture my soul.” Xethre leaned in until his face was but a breath away from hers. “My soul, little one. You have restored my soul.”
* * * *
Sheridan felt as if time had slipped away from her. Xethre was sitting on the floor, naked, declaring his love for her. And she was sitting like a dummy, staring at him with vacant eyes.
Declaring his love?
OH MY GOD! Xethre was declaring his love for her. “I do, I do love you.” Sheridan felt the words slip out of her mouth in a rush. But suddenly they were out. And they were right. She loved this man, this vampire, with all of her human heart. He was everything she had ever wanted and more. He was her soul mate. He was the missing piece of her.
And then she was smiling, smiling and laughing, smiling, laughing and crying.
“Mine, my own,” Xethre said. Right before he crushed her to him in a rib-cracking hug.
“Yes, yours.” Sheridan pulled back slightly. Her lips curved in a generous smile. “Well, are you going to take me to bed, or what?”
He let out a loud whoop, swooped her up and carried her laughing out of the room.
Chapter Eight:
Michaela studied the pair. They were perfect. They were in love. The words struck her frozen heart and made it bleed.
They were sitting, heads bent close. She was eating and he was watching the food course down her throat. Their love was painful to see and Michaela felt it—pain.
He had found her. He had found his one. And their love mocked her, taunted her, forced her to see what she could never have.
Michaela felt a tear escape from her eye and fall, unchecked, down her cheek. A tear—the dead did not weep. And yet here it was—the evidence of her agony. Michaela swept the moisture away and suddenly anger was there … pure, absolute, rage.
And outside, the winds raged and the skies opened to release torrents of rain. Lightning flashed across the sky, streaking silver over black, and thunder screamed, low and wordless.
Xethre and Sheridan turned at the same time. Their startled eyes met the terrifying figure that was Michaela.
Michaela’s hair, tossed by an invisible wind, whipped around her body. Her skin glowed like a fluorescent light and her eyes … her eyes were painful to look at. They were so silver they burned white and, like broken glass, they cut right through you.
Xethre stood suddenly and threw the full force of his gaze onto Michaela. His turquoise orbs flashed and glowed steadily brighter. The strange dancing flame within them leapt and swirled as he advanced slowly toward her.
The heat from his gaze grew hotter still and slowly burned a path through Michaela’s frozen body. Her eyes dulled. Her skin faded back to normal and the winds and rain outside subsided and then died completely.
Michaela stood down. “You’ve grown more skilled, old friend. Your technique has improved.”
His smile was not entirely friendly. “Is it not lucky for us that it has? You could have leveled the city.”
Michaela smoothed down her hair. “With such control and skill, you could challenge for the Council seat.”
Xethre stiffened. “I have no desire to be on the Council, Michaela. And you know it.”
She laughed. “I do. Such an odd ability, that, being able to temper away another’s power.” Michaela crossed the distance between them and reached out to caress his cheek. “Your eyes … they were always dangerous.”
He remained still under her touch. “No more so than yours.”
Michaela smiled. “Your flattery is not necessary.”
“It’s not flattery,” he answered, blandly.
Michaela stepped back then. Her stoic mask once again in place. She turned to Sheridan who sat, watchful, at the kitchen table. “You should always mind his eyes … they will burn you.”
Sheridan lifted her chin. “I don’t mind a little heat.”
Michaela’s eyes widened and then she laughed. “Oh yes, she is perfect for you, Xethre.”
Xethre rejoined Sheridan at the table. “Was there a reason for your unexpected visit, Michaela?” He had stopped questioning long ago how she managed to step into his home without him ever hearing her. She was Michaela … the elements obeyed her. Such was his answer.
“Your mate is aligned with Hedonai.” Michaela’s expression was unreadable. “Her lineage … it is all about her lineage, Xethre.”
“The Council said she was distantly related…”
Michaela’s laugh was harsh. “—distantly related … don’t you love how they twist and corrupt the facts to suit their needs. It is why they want her, Xethre. She is the only true descendent of the now dying line. You have fallen in love with a Hedonite. Her lineage is purer than yours.”
“Excuse me,” Sheridan’s face was drawn in a frown, “could you tell me what the hell you’re talking about.”
Xethre swallowed. He turned his gaze back to Michaela. “You are certain?”
Michaela nodded. “There is no doubt.”
He closed his eyes.
“Xethre, Xethre, what’s going on, tell me … someone tell me what the hell is going on.”
When Xethre opened his eyes they were filled with something deep, something sorrowful. “You are a direct descendent to an ancient line of vampire, my love. Thousands of years ago there lived a race of people. They were the Hedonites. Now, nothing remains of their line but one diminishing Council member and…” his eyes pierced hers, “you.”
Sheridan laughed. “Oh come on.” She looked incredulously between the two of them. “You don’t believe this shit, do you? Xethre, I’m human. Human. Michaela, I know you’re like ‘goddess of all vampires’ but you’ve totally flipped your lid. I’m not a vampire.”
“No,” Michaela said, “you’re not. But your blood is the blood of a Hedonite. The blood of a dying race—a race that was taken over by vampires, and eventually corrupted.”
“I can trace my roots back…”
“—how far?” Michaela asked, interrupting her.
Sheridan threw up her hands. “I don’t know, what, five, six, generations.”
Michaela laughed. “You would have to go much further to come across the existence of your Hedonai ancestors.”
“You are seriously whacked out.” Sheridan turned a smiling face towards Xethre. What she saw froze her smile in place. “Xethre, you can’t believe her. This is ridiculous.”
He shook his head. “The Council, their command, Pathos … it all makes sense.”
Michaela narrowed her eyes. “Pathos? What of Pathos?”
“He has come. He approached Sheridan.”<
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“God, he has ever been predictable,” Michaela ground out. “Always the little boy, always wanting what you have. I can dispose of him if you’d like.”
Xethre shook his head. “No, I would not have you come under the radar of the Council. Pathos is my concern. I will deal with him.”
“The Council cannot hurt me,” Michaela said, matter-of-factly.
“It doesn’t matter. If you kill Pathos, they will make your death difficult. They need not kill you, only complicate things.”
Michaela said nothing. She knew that Xethre was right.
Sheridan jumped to her feet. “Well, okay, this has been enlightening. But you know what? I’m all out of witty comebacks or small talk. So … I’m going to say good night.”
Xethre grabbed her forearm. “You cannot go, my love.”
“No? Watch me.” Sheridan glared at his hand gripping her arm. “Let go, Xethre.”
“No, it is too dangerous.”
“Let go. You can’t keep me here.”
His eyes gleamed predatorily. “Can’t I?”
* * * *
“Ugh, you suck!” Sheridan screamed. “Do you hear me, you suck. I hate you, Alexethre Roistkauff! I hate you.” She paced. Her pacing didn’t take her far, as her legs were cuffed and the cuffs were secured to the wall by a length of chain.
She was chained to the wall—again. But this time it was her legs that were manacled. It didn’t matter, though. She was stuck in this tomb, waiting Xethre’s return. How dare he! How dare he chain her up and leave her? Okay, how dare he leave her?
Sheridan growled. If she would admit it to herself she was just as pissed by the fact that he had left her after he had chained her up, as with the fact that he had chained her in the first place. She had expected … well … she hadn’t expected this.
The trap door opened and Sheridan stiffened. She was surprised to see that it was Michaela, wrapped in a long velvet dressing robe that glided down the stairs.
She glared at the beautiful vampire. “What? Come to play a game of strip poker? Sorry, no cards.” She looked down at her bare body and then back to Michaela, “and no clothes. You can leave now.”