"You already have," she teased. But it was the wrong thing to say. Snarling, he set her back on the table and disappeared.
Sarahi smiled ruefully at herself as the couple on the bed ground their bodies together, moaning. Their lust tasted terrible after the clean sweetness of Lucien. A moment later, she disappeared as well.
Chapter 3
New York, 1923
Sarahi looked at herself in the full length mirror and adjusted her dress so the black lace settled even lower on her ample bosom, creating a rather ridiculous amount of cleavage. Her victim would not be able to see her, so it didn't matter whether she looked her best or not, but she wanted to be successful, and when she looked sexy, she felt sexy. Sarahi was ravenous tonight. But this party in the penthouse of a luxury apartment building would be an easy place to feed. For three hours, she had followed her lusty victim through a haze of alcohol, music, and women in short, fringed skirts, whispering suggestions in his ear. Soon it would be time to move in for the kill... figuratively speaking of course. In the morning, he’d have a monster of a hangover, compliments of Sarahi.
She glanced around the room. In a city which had so little available space, owning an extra bedroom to use as a dressing room was a sure sign of extreme wealth. Only a red velvet chaise and a carved wardrobe took up space on the floor. Tom must be doing quite well. Sarahi’s stomach rumbled. Time to go get a snack.
Tossing her burgundy hair over her shoulder, she gave herself one last look, and then, satisfied with her appearance, she flashed to her usual spot on her victim's left shoulder. She was pleased to see Lucien, in all his midnight beauty, on the right. The lovely angel man had resisted her a long time, but he was wavering. She could feel it. Perhaps she could feed more directly tonight. She only wanted to when he was there.
A wicked smile curled her lips upwards. She turned her attention to her victim, Tom, with his curly brown hair and pretty blue eyes. He owned this apartment and his wealth showed in his luxurious bedroom. The polished floor gleamed, as did the satin bedding on which a woozy-looking woman reclined, looking up with unfocused eyes. From outside, the sounds of the party continued unabated.
He was delicious, and the desire radiating from him started to fill her empty belly immediately. He was already slightly drunk, which would make her job so much easier. She watched his mouth descend again towards the pretty and intoxicated blond whom he had already kissed so deeply, his hands lifting the skirt of her short, fringed dress.
"Do it," she purred in his ear. Her seductive voice sounded like his own inside his head, and he did not realize he was being tempted by an evil creature like herself. "Take her," Sarahi continued. "You know she wants it. She came here to get this from you, and she's not really that drunk. She's only had two gin fizzies... maybe three. No more than three. She knows what she desires."
She sensed him considering and pressed. "Just think how it would feel... hmm soooo good." Her voice became sticky and slow, like molasses. And then she shimmied over to the side of his head. Her little pink tongue snaked out, licking the ear almost as big as she was. He shivered as though he could feel it. He was hooked now. Time to take a chance.
Sarahi sidled around his neck, trailing her fingers at his sensitive hairline, and addressed Lucien directly.
"He's all yours. Choose, Lucien. Do you save the guilty from themselves? Or do you come with me? Please me, and you can have all this." She trailed her fingertips across her cleavage, delighted to see the angel's eyes following her movements. "Don't disappoint me."
Then she disappeared.
Sarahi flashed herself back to the still-empty dressing room and waited. She had invited him before, but he had never come. Maybe tonight would be different.
She stretched out on a red velvet chaise, arms behind her head, and waited. Over the centuries it had become easier to incite lust and feed from it, but after all this time, she could never let go of what she really wanted; the naphil Lucien in her bed. She was nearly frantic with it.
His scent wafted across her nostrils. Her nipples hardened painfully and she felt herself growing wet.
"Sarahi?"
"Lucien."
"What did you want, Succubus?" His voice sounded weary.
"You know what I want. I told you in Versailles, over four hundred years ago. Nothing has changed. I want you."
"Why?"
"Who can say? I certainly can’t explain it."
"I don’t want to feed you."
"I can’t help that. It’s what I am. But that’s not why I want you."
"Then why?"
"Come over here, my love, and find out."
He approached cautiously and knelt on the floor beside her.
"Have you forgotten how it was in Rome? I’ve never had a kiss like that."
"Sarahi, I’ve never had a kiss other than that."
She couldn’t help smiling, and the smile seemed to draw him to her like a static charge. As though against his will, his arms slipped around her waist and he lowered his mouth to hers, taking the lead as though he had the experience of all his centuries of existence behind him. It was the hottest kiss she’d ever had, far eclipsing that long ago day in Rome.
It seemed he’d never forgotten that day either, the day he’d first encountered temptation. Then, she’d tasted the inside of his mouth. Now he returned the favor, plunging his tongue past those naturally red lips.
She moaned at the honey sweet taste of him, snaking her arms around the bulky thickness of his shoulders, pulling him even closer. He climbed onto the chaise, straddling her body, pressing her down into the soft upholstery which matched her hair. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him down until he was fully pressed against her.
She hadn’t been sure what kind of sex organs a naphil might have, but the bulge grinding into her felt normal, apart from the lovely size of it. This was going to be spectacular, worth all the centuries she had waited. She hummed into his mouth.
"Touch me, my angel," she murmured, when he released her mouth to drag air into his lungs. She took his hand from behind her back where it embraced her and guided it to one of her full breasts, tugging down the fabric to expose it.
For a moment, he caressed her there, and the sight of his ebony skin against her gleaming white flesh made her catch her breath. Such a beautiful contrast.
And then he stopped.
"I... Sarahi, I can’t... No." He rose from the chaise.
"Lucien, please. Don’t go."
"I swore a vow."
"Who would know?"
"He would."
"God?"
"The head of the elder council, our governing body. He would know."
"Is he omniscient?"
"No, but how could I keep it from him?"
"You could, if you tried."
"No, Sarahi. I can’t. I... I’m sorry."
And he vanished from the room as though he had never been there.
Sarahi turned over on the chaise and wept into the scarlet upholstery. Her belly was full, but her heart was breaking.
Chapter 4
Los Angeles, 1978
Sarahi sat in the semi-dark nightclub. A disco ball hanging from the ceiling threw dizzying lights over the couples on the dance floor. She was seated at a table, sipping a martini while her companions made out beside her. Linda, a black woman with an enormous afro, dressed in a white jumpsuit which clung to her every curve, had arrived already under the influence. Guillermo, a skinny Hispanic man with a pencil-thin mustache who wore a powder blue leisure suit had snorted a line the moment he sat down at the table. Now they were both so high it didn’t matter to them in the slightest whom they were groping.
Sarahi felt slightly revolted by the scene, but was unable to leave until her hunger was satisfied. She tugged on the neckline of her loose and backless metallic silver top. The chains which held it across the back tickled her skin. It was hot in this room, and not just with passion. Her polyester pants clung to her sweaty thighs. Easy pi
ckings came at a price.
At last the sharpest edge of her hunger was satisfied. She rose, no longer desiring a full feeding, and headed for the door.
The man looked up. "Where you getting off to, Sarah?"
"I’m going home," she told him. "I’ve had enough for tonight."
"Don’t go," Linda urged. "Stay. We have some gooood coke." She waved a tiny glass bottle in Sarahi's direction. "You can have some."
Sarahi shuddered. She did not want any cocaine. "No, thank you."
Guillermo grabbed her arm.
"Let me go," she told him softly. She could throw him off easily enough, but that would raise questions she couldn’t afford to answer. She tugged gently, hoping to dislodge his clinging hand.
"Don’t hurry off," he said. "Stay."
"Let me go, Guillermo, or I’ll hurt you," she told him. He laughed.
Guillermo’s condescending chuckle turned to a gasp of disbelief as a huge dark hand clamped down on his arm, forcing him release her.
"She said she was leaving," a deep, rumbling voice said behind her.
Oh Lilith, that voice. Sarahi closed her eyes and then opened them, turning to look at the familiar face she hadn’t seen in over fifty years.
"Lucien!"
"Sarah, do you know this dude?"
"Yes." No more needed to be said.
"Come with me." Lucien extended his hand to Sarahi. She took it without hesitation, following him out of the building to the street.
Outside, it was hot, but not as hot as the club had been. Not as hot as Sarahi felt. She threw her arms around Lucien and pulled him down, kissing him hard, unable to control herself.
He kissed her back for long moments, cradling her in his arms, making love to her mouth. Then he slowly lifted his head.
"Where have you been?" she asked him.
"Avoiding you."
"Why?"
"I had to. I’ve sworn..."
"I know. But Lucien, why are you here then?"
"I couldn’t...I..." He closed his eyes. "I couldn’t stay away. How do you draw me to you, Sarahi?"
"Do I have to tell you? Surely you know, you feel it too."
"I feel something I don’t understand. How do you do this to me? Do you use your powers to make me feel this way?"
"No, Lucien. I can’t create desire from nothing. It comes from you. And I’ve done nothing to enhance it."
"Then what is it?"
She smiled. "It’s simple, my angel. It’s love. I love you, and you love me too. And you want me. Don’t deny it."
"I can’t deny it any longer." He closed his eyes. When he opened them, the obsidian depths glowed with a love which reflected all she felt.
She cupped his cheek in her hand, letting centuries of adoration and longing express themselves on her face, showing him he was not feeling this alone. "Then come with me, Lucien. Come away. Be with me."
He looked at her doubtfully, passion warring with uncertainty.
Sarahi felt stung. As long as she’d waited for him... but how could he know? "Do you still think I do this with anyone? Lucien, do you know how long it’s been since I invited a man to my bed?"
He shook his head.
"The last man who made love to me was Alexander. I was mourning his death the day we met in Rome. It’s been almost two thousand years."
She held out her hand, waiting, holding her breath. Slowly, hesitantly, he placed his huge dark hand inside the whiteness of her little palm. Their fingers laced together. In a blink, Los Angeles disappeared.
They rematerialized standing on a little patch of blasted and withered scrub. In front of them an endless stretch of rust-colored sand gave way to low foothills. The Mojave Desert. And just to the right, a travel trailer sat in the partial shade of a shriveled little tree.
"Where are we?" he asked her.
"This is my place. I come here to be alone."
She led him up the clanking metal step, through a cheap screened door which banged noisily against the siding. They entered and she led him straight to the back, where the built-in bed had been covered with a thin blanket the color of the desert sand outside. She tossed it aside to reveal cotton sheets in a sunset orange.
Sarahi reached for the edge of her blouse, but Lucien grasped her hand gently. She looked at him, a question in her eyes.
"Let me." His words, dark with passion, brought a smile to her lips, and when he lifted her blouse over her head, she raised her arms, helping him, wanting nothing more than to be close to him.
Under a shirt like that, she could not wear a bra. At the sight of Sarahi’s naked breasts, Lucien to sucked in an unsteady breath. She smiled. He reached out slowly and cupped one full globe in his big, dark hand.
"It’s beautiful," he told her. She could see the question in his eyes, and gently showed him how to caress her, guiding his fingers to her nipple. Her breath caught as he fondled the distended nub. She had forgotten how sharp the pleasure could be.
"Oh, Lucien," she moaned softly, "that feels so good." She stripped off her pants and went to the bed, stretching out, ready for him. She looked into his eyes and saw it; there was no going back. The bare truth of what was to come added to the song which was coursing through her body. She felt him in her core and her skin, in her blood and her bones. She felt his energy taking possession of her being, as if he were already in her.
Then he undressed himself with aching slowness, revealing the body she’d hungered to taste for untold centuries, and climbed onto the bed beside her, pulling her into his arms.
"Hmm," she sighed against his mouth as he pressed her close to him. "I love you, Lucien."
"I love you, Sarahi."
"Touch me again." She rolled to her back and urged his head down to her breast, feeling the coarse thickness of his close-cropped curls. His mouth opened around her nipple with no further urging, and he sucked it in, lashing the tender peak with his tongue, making her writhe with pleasure.
While he tended first one aching breast and then the other, she stroked her hand down the hard dark muscles of his chest, lower, and found what she wanted. His erection was huge and thick, and she wrapped her fingers around it, stroking him, first gently, and then with increasing speed and pressure.
Lucien groaned. "Stop, love."
"Why?"
"It’s too much."
"Oh..." she’d forgotten he’d never made love before, and this new stimulation would bring him to culmination quickly if she wasn’t careful. Another time, once he had learned the ways of loving better, she could caress and fondle him. But for now, it was time to bring centuries of longing to an end. She opened her thighs, slipping them to the outside of his, and urged him over her, loving the weight of his massive body pressing her into the bed.
She took hold of that heavy sex again, and guided him to the long-ignored opening of her body.
"Take me, Lucien," she urged. He arched his hips slowly, and Sarahi cried out with joy as he filled her like no one ever had before. The pressure of his penetration was sufficient to set off in her an orgasm the likes of which she had never imagined, and she wept with pleasure at its strength.
The ecstatic clenching of her internal muscles was more than sufficient to bring Lucien to the first climax in his entire existence. He groaned at the unexpected sensation, and lowered his mouth to hers for a long and perfect kiss.
Chapter 5
Mojave Desert 1978
Sarahi sat on a metal folding chair outside her travel trailer. Hunger gnawed furiously at her belly. It was insane. She should have been able to go many weeks between feedings, even half a year if necessary. But now, after only six weeks, she felt as though starvation was setting in.
Or maybe her reserves were low because of her grief. She’d never had such a beautiful night as the one she had spent with Lucien, but when she woke in the morning, he’d been gone, his honey sweet love draped over her body like a blanket, but his powerful presence no longer beside her in the bed.
She’
d grieved that desertion like she hadn’t grieved in centuries, not since Alexander. Her poor darling. He’d loved her with a passion unequaled among human men, her warrior, named for the emperor, beautiful, blond and strong. But not strong enough. Tears flooded her brilliant green eyes as she remembered the day she’d realized his will wouldn’t last, that he was turning. It had taken every last ounce of her resolve to take him past the point of loss of soul, all the way to destruction, but she’d done it. She’d killed him to save him.
She had thought this time would be different. Nephilim were stronger than men, and semi-divine. Lucien should have been able to withstand her needs. But he’d left her. In some ways it was harder than Alexander’s death, because with Lucien she’d dared hope. But he was gone. Her hunger grew, but she felt no desire to fill it. She was nearly nauseous with the gnawing in her belly, but the thought of pursuing other food, of seeking out people coupling in dark corners and feeding on their passion, actually made it worse. She gagged at the thought.
After Lucien, no one would satisfy her again. She wondered if, in this present apathy, she would actually starve herself to death. The way she felt, it wouldn’t take long, and she honestly didn’t care.
She closed her eyes and willed sleep to come. The desert sun beat down on her milky skin. She couldn’t burn, so what difference did the heat make? She inhaled the clean, hot scent of the desert; of exotic flowers and scrub and the endless, baking sun. And then a familiar scent wended its way through to her senses. Her eyes shot open.
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