Unlike the mythology, Vampires, true born vampires, were born human but changed somewhere in their mid-twenties, when they were at their physical peak, and remained that way until death. It was a painful transformation that lasted for four or five days, the agony of which was nearly unbearable. But once the transformation was complete, they remained in that form until death. It had been that way with the original Seven and was that way for all of their true progeny. They could also bear children and had beating hearts and souls, and they weren't cold to the touch. They looked human to the untrained eye, the only hint being the paleness of their eyes, the sharpness of their canines and the fact that they burst into flame in sunlight.
He would regenerate, but it was going to be painful. Almost as painful as his transformation.
"Karim?" She turned to look at the clock. It was just after four in the afternoon, hours from sundown. "What are you doing here? Are you insane? Of course you're insane, why else would you come here during the day?" Without thinking, she sliced opened her wrist with one sharp fang and thrust it towards his cracked and bleeding lips.
"No," he croaked, "No, I've taken enough from you, Calie. I'll be fine. I deserve this for what I did to you. But I didn't know, she never told me. She never told me that you didn't make it back. I thought you were upset because I left you. If she had told me I would have gone back. I would have come back no matter what, if I had known." He wanted to say more, but began to cough choking as blood began a slow trickle from his cracked lips.
"Drink." She cringed at the rasp of his voice. It was rough and pained, but he refused her wrist. His wounds would heal.
"I would never have come here, I would never have agreed to be your protector again. I would never have agreed to any of this if I had known what I did, what I caused." He mumbled. Celeste listened, trying to understand he was rambling about, protector? She didn't need a protector in the Collective. She didn't need a protector period.
"I deserve this and so much more. I deserve this." He looked up at her, deep green eyes in a scarred and smoldering face that was slowly returning to normal. As he spoke, the flesh at the corners of his mouth cracked open, blood oozed onto non-existent lips and she felt her chest tighten. As often as she'd wished death on him, this was just too heartbreaking to witness. She rolled her eyes in frustration and re-opened the wound.
"Drink," she said. He looked down at the wrist she'd thrust beneath his nose but remained stoic, ignoring the scent of fresh, warm blood. He lowered his eyes, too ashamed to look at her. Instead he concentrated on breathing and the pain as his body healed.
"You're in pain." She pleaded.
"I deserve it more than you know," he croaked. She sat beside him and gently guided his chin up, forcing him to look into her deep blue eyes. He relaxed a little, it was like looking into an endless ocean, the scent of her wafting around him. Her eyes, her smile, he could get lost just looking into her face. He would die for that smile.
"Karim, sweetie, if you die on my sofa, I will find a way to resurrect you so that I can kick your ass. Now drink," she said in the sweetest tone she could muster.
She gave him a gentle, almost loving smile, and he parted his lips slowly, every muscle movement bringing fresh blood and pain. With nimble fingers, he held her arm, reluctantly bringing her wrist to his mouth. He sucked deeply, his mouth filling with the most glorious taste he'd ever experienced. She tasted so good, warm and smooth like rich red wine, it flowed down his throat renewing him, healing him.
He held her arm tighter, tugging her forward until she was seated beside him, her body pressed closely to him. Her scent invaded his nose as her taste filled his mouth and he was suddenly consumed with an all-encompassing need for her.
Celeste leaned forward, her lips parting as he continued his slow steady drink. Reaching up, she brushed the hair from his face so she could see him, the cracks and blackened skin had healed to red, sunburned flesh then settled into his natural tawny tone.
"I've always liked your hair. It is so soft and always smells like the ocean," she said, stroking the back of his head, her voice thicker than she'd intended. Unconsciously, she leaned forward and inhaled deeply, the smell of burning replaced by that beachy smell. He moaned, his tongue moving over the delicate flesh. She ignored her body, knowing that it was only a side effect of the feeding. It was why she didn’t allow anyone to feed from her and she only fed from Remy or Gaston and in extreme cases Nicky. There were boundaries that none of them would cross with her. Karim was a different entity.
He sat up and inhaled deeply, the stain of her blood still on his lips, his shimmering eyes pale sea foam. He turned to her, his chest heaving as he tried to collect himself, but she could tell this had gone further than she intended. His movements were so swift that she hadn't even noticed until he covered her mouth with his, pulling her forward until she was nearly straddling his hips. He thrust upward, pushing against her, his body begging for more. She was shocked by the quickness and the ferocity of the action, the raw need. His hands moved beneath her shirt and cupping her breasts, his mouth moved down the column of her throat, pausing at the thrumming pulse in her neck. His teeth grazed her skin in preparation for the bite that was sure to follow. She gasped in surprise, and felt herself relenting before she came to her senses.
She pulled free and sprang to her feet so quickly that she bumped into the coffee table and sat down with a thump. Her fingers went to her kiss swollen lips still tingling from the assault, her eyes a shade of blue he had only seen on that last night in the desert. He closed his eyes and inhaled her scent, sweet and bold, filling the room. He reached out and she scooted back, afraid that if he kissed her again she would give in. He dropped his head and buried his face in his hands and let out an anguished groan.
"Karim," she spoke quietly, as is she were afraid to spook him.
"I didn't come here to do that. The last thing I wanted to do was force … I know everything. I was supposed to protect you and I failed you. I failed you in the worst possible way. I never knew. I thought … I never knew. If I had known I would have come back for you. I would have risked the sun for you. But she never told me. She never said a word, that's why I came when she called this time… I didn’t know the truth until today."
Her heart stopped beating for a moment and a chill went through her. She never wanted him to know what had happened to her, never wanted him to look at her with pity and disgust as so many had when they discovered the truth.
"How?" she managed through her suddenly dry lips.
"What?" he asked, a bit confused.
"How do you know? I know Nyx would never tell you." She swallowed hard, trying to keep herself in the room. Everything in her said run, leave this place, leave this conversation. But she couldn't. Looking at the expression on his face, it was still new for him, still raw. She felt tears well in her eyes for him. She'd had centuries to come to terms with what had happened. She understood his pain and she felt for him.
"How do you know?" she repeated. "Who told you?"
"Your aunts paid me a visit."
She cursed under her breath. The Moirai, those fucking lunatics, of course they would be the ones to tell. The three of them couldn't help but talk, it was what they did. The original shit-stirrers had been at it again, causing chaos wherever they went. One day very soon she was going to take great pleasure in slapping all three of them.
"So, now you know all the facts." She ran her hands along her thighs, a nervous habit she'd developed without realizing it. He took her hands, his thumbs caressing her knuckles as he spoke.
"I came here to beg for your forgiveness and to apologize for the hell I put you through out of my own stupidity. They were only supposed to take you to the next village. Pelusium was less than a day's ride and they -she, because it wasn't him, it was the wife wasn't it? Not that I could blame her for being jealous. Calie, Celeste, I would have burned before I would have let that happen to you. I will burn now if you wish it. I will gladly give my
life if that's what it would take for you to forgive me. I would do anything to take that pain for you. I never wanted to hurt you. I just…” He looked at her with those wonderful eyes, his face so tortured it broke her heart.
"I will gladly give up my life if it will take away the pain. Just say the word and I will walk into the light of day for you."
She knew that he would but she could never allow that. As much as she threatened to maim or kill him, she knew in her heart she would never do such a thing. She was justice and redemption, why condemn a man before allowing him a chance at redemption? She owed him a chance, because when it came right down to it, Karim had made a stupid mistake when he honestly believed that he was doing the honorable thing.
"I can't let you do that, Karim. I would never allow you to sacrifice yourself for a common whore."
"Don't ever say that!" He was on his feet, looming over her, his face twisted in disgust.
"Don't ever speak of yourself that way again. I won't allow it. You are smart, funny beautiful and amazing. You are not a whore, nor can any circumstance ever make me see you as one. Do you understand me?" he yelled, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
"But I was Karim. I was made to do the most demeaning things; if you only knew what they made me do."
"Then show me,” he said, and she stared at him in confusion.
"What?" Was he saying what she thought he was saying?
"Use me the way they used you. I deserve that. I deserve to suffer as you have and I will do it willingly.”
He was, she realized. He was willing to let her take out all of her hatred and pain and aggression out on his body. She wasn't sure she could do that to him. Not just because of the sexual aspect, because it wasn't just about sex, it was about control and domination over another. She didn't know if she had it in her, nor did she think he understood what she had endured. But he was willing to go to such extremes to earn her forgiveness.
"You have no idea what you are asking for, Karim. It was painful and humiliating. I can't. I would never inflict that kind of pain on anyone,” she said lowering her head. "I could never …" She didn't want him to see that part of her, that part that made her feel unclean and damaged. "It won't fix anything."
"It could be a start."
She remained silent when he took her hands in his, turning her palms up to expose her delicate wrists. He lifted them to his mouth, kissing one, then the other. She wanted to pull away, but the gentle caress of his lips felt good, warm and soft against her skin. No one had ever done that before, the sensation sent a shiver through her. The touch was simple, sweet, and she felt her anxiety giving way to need.
"Please, Celeste. Use me." He lowered her hands, resting them on his thighs, careful to hold her fingers because he knew, he knew it all. She stared at him, the intensity and determination in his face told her that he would not give up on this. He was desperate for her forgiveness, bound by some half-cocked sense of duty and repentance to her. This was the plea of a man looking for the forgiveness of a grave sin. Pain for pain, flesh for flesh. He cupped her cheek in his palm, his thumb running along her bottom lip.
"Please," it was a whispered appeal. She didn't know if it was the look on his face, her want to forgive him, or the Mist that clouded her mind, but she heard the word slip from her lips before she knew what she was doing.
“Okay.”
CHAPTER NINE
Karim sat on the edge of the bed, waiting in nothing but a towel. He’d rested for most of the day before showering in the guest bath. He’d even considered using one of the electric razors in the medicine cabinet to cut his unruly hair. But he’d remembered the feel of her fingers when she played with it, stroking his scalp and decided against it. There was aftershave, male shower gel, deodorant and extra toothbrushes stored neatly. He assumed that these things were for her one of her brothers or Blondie; that was what he was hoping, at least. He couldn’t imagine these thing were purchased for a random hook-up. Celeste wasn’t that type of woman.
He found himself wondering about the rock star, thinking that perhaps those two were the couple, they seemed to spend as much time together as possible. It was obvious that the human was I love with Celeste, anyone could see it by the way he watched her. He recognized the expression on Nicky’s face, that look of longing he was all too familiar with. He’d let that train of thought go and simply sat on the edge of the bed waiting, his stomach in knots at what was going to happen.
There was a quiet knock on the door and his palms began to sweat. He cleared his throat and stood, slowly going to open the door.
Celeste stood waiting, shifting from one bare foot to the other, the heavy bag tossed over her shoulder, her robe cinched tightly at her waist. She was scared and nervous, her stomach doing flips of anticipation when he opened the door.
“Ready?” She asked and he nodded, allowing her entrance into the room. She’d decided that the guest room would be the best place, because unlike her bed, this one was a four poster and she needed that. Also, it was the only room in the house that had no windows. She didn’t look at him as she sat the bag on the dresser and began to take out its contents. “Are you sure about this?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, brushing his hair off of his forehead. She looked at him over her shoulder, but said nothing. She didn’t have to; he could smell her growing arousal and anxiety filling the windowless room with the familiar sweetness that was pure Celeste.
“I think I need a drink. Do you have any wine?” Karim asked in a voice that was tight and high pitched.
“Yes, in the kitchen.” She didn’t look at him, she couldn’t. Instead, she continued her preparations leaving him to go in search of something to calm his nerves. Once he was gone, she exhaled, placed her palms on the dresser and counted to ten. Slowly, she looked at her reflection in the mirror over the dresser and sighed. She could see the bed behind her, the indentation of where he’d been seated was still visible.
“You can do this, Celeste. It’s not that big of a deal,” she said, looking at herself in the mirror. “It’ll be fine. He wants to do this.” She reached into the bag and removed four large, hinged golden bangles. Near each hinge was a short length of chain attached with a clasp on the end that she would use to fasten him to the bedpost. She stared at them for a long time, swallowing hard at the memories of these tools. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and continued to prepare for what was sure to be an interesting night, to say the least.
***
“This bottle was already open so …” his voice trailed off at the sight of her. Everything below his waist grew heavy and dense, his skin felt as if it had tightened and he made a low noise deep in his throat. She turned to look at him, her eyes a deep indigo, her face gold in the glow of the dozens of beautiful white candles that had been stacked on every surface of the room, giving the room a soft glow. She had fastened the slave bracelets to the bed posts and laid out things he had never really seen outside of adult movies across the nightstand. She had a small assortment that intrigued him and made his stomach tighten in anticipation. There was a whip, a cat-o nine tails with a heavy braided handle, a large wooden paddle, oils and something that looked to him like miniature jumper cables. She was just laying the last of her tools, a long thin baton that he soon recognized as a riding crop, on the bed. He swallowed and wondering if perhaps this was the way she preferred sex.
“No,” she said, reading his expression. Or maybe she had that mind reading glitch tweaked, she thought. “I got this while you were resting. I’ve never use this kind of thing. Well, the bracelets were mine,” she touched the gold hoops with trembling fingers. “I removed the bells. I don’t think we need them,” she said, and then smiled, “The riding crop is mine though.” To emphasize her point she held it up and gave a quick downward swipe, the movement so fast that it made the air crack and he jumped.
He looked at her, and he found it hard to think because there was no more blood flowing to his brain. He hadn
’t been sure what he’d been expecting, leather and chains he supposed or something along the lines of what she’d worn that night at the club. This was something, softer. She wore a deep green camisole in a shimmery satin that clung to her curves and matching boy shorts that rode up exposing the soft underside of her ass. Her hair had been allowed to air dry because it hung around her face in loose heavy curls that she raked her fingers through nervously while he stared. Her face free of makeup, making a light spattering of summer freckles visible, she looked delectable.
“I keep forgetting how absolutely stunning you truly are,” he whispered, his erection moving in agreement. “Close the door,” she said, her tone authoritative and just a little shaky. He realized then that he was still holding the bottle of wine and two glasses. He hadn’t made it all the way into the room either, instead, he’d stopped just inside the doorway, staring with his body thrumming and his mouth dry. The towel shifted and he tried to hide his sudden excitement, but it was useless, and he would be at her mercy in a moment anyway. She crossed the room, taking the bottle and glasses from him, going to place them on the bedside table.
He closed the door behind him, wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs and crossed the room to join her beside the bed. She let out a shaky breath before turning to him, her eyes on his.
“They would usually give me something I don’t know what- to make me more - cooperative,” she said, picking up the paddle, testing the weight in her hands. “I would be washed and dressed, painted and perfumed. Then ...” She slapped the paddle against her thigh hard, the smacking of wood against skin made him flinch.
“Hands and knees.” She said. “Or would you prefer over my lap? Or against the bed?” She tapped her lips with her finger then smiled.
“Come here.” He went willingly, his heart racing, a rush of excitement welling inside of him. She motioned for him to join her at the foot of the bed, and he did. She made him turn his back to her and grasp the bedposts before securing the cuffs around his wrists, tethering him to the posts.
Mark of the Fallen: A Fallen Novel Page 14