by L. C. Davis
There were two beds in the room covered by comforters that looked like a series of Hawaiian shirts that had been sewn together and starched to hell. It was the kind of place that was technically clean but still felt like everything was covered in an invisible layer of grime. I made a promise to myself not to touch anything.
Sebastian tossed my duffel bag onto the bed furthest away from the door and I didn't have to ask to know that I would be sleeping in it alone. I flopped down on the bed, breaking that promise, and started rummaging through the bag for something to change into.
“I'm going out,” said Sebastian. “Food, clothes, beer,” he muttered. “What should I get?”
“Hydrogen peroxide, bandages, some seltzer water maybe,” said Victor, holding a hand to his head wound.
I sprang up, grabbing one of the clean washcloths from the bathroom and soaking it with water before I brought it over to him. He let me press it against his head but hissed air in through his teeth at the contact.
“Extra strength painkillers, too,” I added.
“Anything to eat, or did you have your fill a the party?”
“Sebastian,” Victor said, giving him a warning look. “Don't.”
Sebastian shrugged and left the room. Unfortunately, he wasn't entirely wrong. I was thirsty, and I had a growing suspicion that beer wasn't going to cut it. As much as Victor's blood had its own distinct smell, I was beginning to realize that all creatures did, including Sebastian and the humans on the other side of the wall behind Victor's bed. The hungrier I got, the easier it became to smell them.
“I'm sorry,” said Victor once the door slammed shut. “If he had any idea what happened in that room, he wouldn't make jokes like that.” He frowned. “He also wouldn't have left that vampire alive.”
“Thank you for your discretion on both counts, then.”
“It's not a matter of discretion,” he said. “It's not my story to tell, and yes, I know that makes me a broken record, but it's true. But you have to tell him, Remus.”
“Maybe, but not now. Too much, too soon,” I admitted.
“That's all the more reason you need your mate to understand what you're going through,” he said, reaching out to touch my face. “What you've been through this past couple of days, most people don't go through in a lifetime. Meeting the mother who abandoned you at birth, having a complex matrix of psychic energy ripped from your mind, encountering the people who abused you, being forced to kill someone-- even people as heinous as the Alderdices – to save a friend?” His thumb brushed gently over my lips and his eyes searched my face for something that was bound to turn up missing. “And then there's the matter of becoming a vampire and suppressing your werewolf half.”
“And my mate treating me like a pariah because of it?”
He sighed. “That, too.”
“It's nothing,”I said, stepping away from him. I continued to wipe the blood away from his gash.
“Nothing? Any one of those things alone would be enough to drive anyone else to the brink of sanity, Remus.” He hesitated.
I smirked. “Are you worried because you think I've evaded insanity, Victor, or because you think I've already succumbed to it?”
“That's not what I meant,” he stammered.
“You're lying, but it's alright. Maybe I am crazy,” I admitted. “I certainly don't feel like myself, but I don't care. You're right, the old Remus would have crumbled under the weight of any one of those things. Especially Sebastian. The old Remus cried himself to sleep most nights just trying to understand why his mommy and daddy didn't love him, terrified of making that same mistake again and scaring off the next person who might be stupid enough to give a damn about him.”
He winced as I cleaned a particularly large piece of debris from the gash. “If that's sanity, I'll take this any day.”
“I know it seems like a good thing at the moment, but it's not,” he said earnestly. “You can't live with a divided mind, you can't suppress that part of you any longer.”
“Why not? I managed for twenty-two years,” I reminded him.
“Yes, because of Sarah's framework. No offense, but your walls are like a toddler's finger paintings compared to Picasso. She was at the very least trying to preserve your sanity when she did what she did. Yours was a hastily erected patch job and it's only a matter of time before it comes crumbling down. Then you really might lose your mind,” he warned.
I rested my hands on his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. “I know you want the old Remus back, and I know you're just trying to help, but I need you to understand something. If he comes back, he's not going to be around for long,” I said slowly, deliberately, wanting each word to sink into his mind. His eyes began to glaze over, but somehow I knew that meant he was listening even deeper.
“He's done things – I've done things – that he could never live with.” I stroked his long black hair behind his ear, admiring its silky texture. “He's not coming back, Victor. The sooner you realize that, the better it will be.”
He gazed intently at me. “He's not coming back,” he murmured, frowning in confusion at his own words. He blinked hard and sat up so fast I was worried he would pass out from the blood loss. “What the fuck, Remus?” he spat, clutching his head. “How did you do that?”
I stared at him in confusion, shaking my head. “Do what?”
“You were putting me into a trance. It's the step right before a push, another form of mind control,” he said, watching me like I was a child with a loaded gun. “Is wasn't on purpose, was it?”
“No,” I murmured. “Of course not. How would I know how to do that?”
“You wouldn't, I- I thought it was just a fluke that you were able to push Sarah out of your mind like that,” he stammered. He was genuinely shaken and there was nothing I could do, considering that I was the cause. “She unlocked something. Maybe whatever it was she was trying to get at with that ritual, I don't know, but it's not good. Your psychic abilities, if that's what they even are, are progressing much too rapidly.”
“Relax,” I said, trying to coax him back into a sitting position. “Whatever it is, I'm sure Ulric can help us figure it out.”
He reluctantly sat down. “Remus, I know you're having a hard time, but promise me you'll try to think about what the old you would have done, alright? When you do things, just ask yourself if it's something you would have done a week ago.
I sighed. “Fine. I promise.” If it would make him feel better, I would try to keep that promise.
“Hey, I have an idea,” I said. “Why don't you take a shower? Sebastian's gonna be gone for who knows how long, there's no reason you shouldn't be comfortable.”
He hesitated. “I am a mess.”
“Mhm. Come on,” I said, stepping back so he had room to stand. I reached to undo his buttons. Sebastian's shirt hung loose on his frame, making him look like he'd tried on his father's clothes.
“Remus,” he protested halfheartedly.
“What's the big deal? I'm just helping you since you're hurt. Nothing I haven't seen before.”
He gave me a look. “No, I imagine you got quite an eyeful in the forest.”
I smirked. “You exceeded my wildest expectations.” His shirt dropped to the floor and I followed suit as I quickly unbuttoned Sebastian's jeans. Those fit a bit better.
“Remus,” he muttered, placing his hand on top of my head. “Get up.”
“I thought you liked it when I was on my knees,” I purred, looking up at him as I tugged the jeans down. “Master.”
He shuddered. “Don't say that,” he said through gritted teeth. “Not outside the dungeon.”
“But you seem to like it,” I mused, dragging my nails down his thigh. He was already getting hard. That just made it worse.
“Stop it,” he growled suddenly, snatching me up by the wrist. “This is exactly the kind of thing I'm talking about. You're my brother's mate, despite of all of this and-” He froze, staring down at me for a long, te
nse moment before he pulled me to him and crushed his lips against mine.
When he kissed me, I felt something other than anger or emptiness for the first time since I had become a murderer. I wrapped my arms around his neck and deepened the kiss before he could change his mind and take it away from me.
“We shouldn't be doing this,” he groaned. In spite of his words, he was already pulling my shirt off, careful of my shredded side. It hurt anyway, but non-life threatening pain had lost its bite.
“Probably not,” I agreed, letting him press me against the wall as he undid my pants. “But if there's one thing all this has taught me, it's that our time will never come on its own if we keep waiting on the stars to align. Sometimes you have to force it.”
“That's not very philosophical, is it?” he muttered, wrapping his warm palm around my neck. My head lolled back against the wall, in sheer bliss as his grip tightened a bit before his hand wandered across my chest.
“No,” I gasped. “But where has faith ever gotten either of us?”
His eyes were silver in the light and they gleamed dangerously, as sharp as any blade. “Nowhere, I suppose.”
He scooped me into his arms suddenly and carried me into the bathroom. It wasn't the Four Seasons by any means, but there was a shower. He put me down on the other side of the glass door and I bent over to set the faucet to a decent temperature. When I looked back, he was watching me with a look that fell somewhere on the spectrum between love and predatory hunger.
“You know,” I said, standing upright once I switched the shower on. “You're more like a wolf as a person than a beast.”
He gave me a wry smile as he stepped into the shower. He didn't bother locking the door. If Sebastian came home, we both knew we were screwed anyway. The glass door slid shut and the room began to fill with steam. I had expected that it would barely get warm, but if anything, the water was too hot.
“Where were we?” he asked, drawing his arm around my waist. He pulled me to him and the feeling of our bodies pressed against each other, skin to skin with no other obstruction, was utter intoxication.
“I think we were making an irreversible mistake,” I replied, stroking his newly wet hair away from his face. I didn't know why he never wore it slicked back like that. It showcased his unique features in such a way that made him look more like a mysterious stranger than a mischievous god.
“Ah, yes,” he said dryly, lifting me up against the shower. I wrapped my legs around his waist and clung to his shoulders. He might not be as strong as Sebastian, but he was more than strong enough to maneuver me like a doll into any position he pleased. “I thought I remembered something about that.”
He claimed my lips again and my fingers explored his hair. It was so much softer when he was a human. In his beast form, his fur was thick and coarse but strangely delightful to caress in a different way. His tongue forced entry into my mouth and teased mine for a bit before plunging deeper.
I dug my nails deeper into his shoulders as he initiated my every desire before it even came into my mind – all that was left for me to do was respond and bask in his domination. I briefly wondered if he was reading my mind to achieve such perfect synchronicity but I realized I didn't care.
Victor's teeth grated across the right side of my neck, eliciting a moan and a shudder at once. At times, I wasn't sure whether the response he triggered was one of pleasure or fear. A mixture of both, I finally decided. His teeth nipped just before the point of breaking flesh. I could feel blood rising to the surface as he sucked my flesh into his mouth and grew dizzy in the most refreshing way.
“Master,” I gasped when the hand that wasn't holding me up disappeared to explore my backside. He teased me with a finger at first and the water made it much easier when he pressed against me.
He gazed down at me with a small shake of his head as he pushed deeper inside of me. “Not this time. This time it's just Victor.”
I nodded, my breath already too ragged to speak. I didn't want him to go slowly, I just wanted him to claim me and make me feel something, even if it was only pain.
He seemed to understand somehow because he pulled his finger out a moment later and pushed me into the glass door. Everything was mottled through the patterned glass and steam made a foggy outline of my hands pressed against it. Surrounded by a claustrophobic ring of haze, it was easy to pretend we were in our own little world.
Victor's hand rested above mine on the glass and a moment later, he pressed against me. I cried out more from surprise than pain when the tip slipped in. It occurred to me that he had been observing my body and waiting for the exact right moment to penetrate me. All his expertise and observation couldn't do anything to lessen the pain of taking him to the hilt.
Fortunately, it was a delightful kind of anguish. I began to enjoy the dull ache every time he slid into me and pulled out a little ways only to push in even deeper the next time. Once I could feel him impossibly deep within me, he put a firm hand on my hip and gripped me hard as he began to thrust. His rhythm seemed to fall in line with my pulse, as did the part of him that throbbed deep inside of me.
“Please,” I moaned, dragging my nails down the glass with a sharp scraping sound. I wasn't even sure what I was pleading for. He was already filling me beyond what I could bear, and yet something that wasn't quite mind or spirit ached desperately for more of him.
My theory that his finesse was the result of mind reading was dashed when he took my desperation as a plea for him to stroke me off. It wasn't what I wanted – I wasn't even sure if what I wanted could be named let alone obtained – but I certainly didn't complain. His hand was warm even compared to the shower as he stroked me with a tortuously light touch.
I cried out a second time as he circled the tip with a single finger, introducing me to a far subtler sensation that built up exponentially. He found my spot like someone had given him a road map and every thrust was tailored to grind against it in the most maddening way.
I lost sight of the unattainable desire when he brought me so close to orgasm I could taste it. Pleasure had built up so much that touch which had once brought heady bliss only was now causing me an entirely new kind of pain.
“Victor,” I moaned. His name was now a plea and the only word that came readily to mind.
He gave my member another expert stroke and I thought he was giving me permission to come, but he pulled out suddenly and it was only his steadying arm that kept me from falling when my knees gave out.
He turned me around and I looked into the face of my greatest tormentor. Words were beyond me and all I could do was give him a look of confused betrayal. He had the gall to smirk before he pushed me into the wall again and hitched my thigh over his hip.
“I wanted to see that pretty face the first time I make love to you,” he murmured, positioning himself at my entrance again. He had me angled perfectly, but it still took force to push himself inside even after I had taken him.
This time the pain of his invasion was mingled with burning pleasure and it was almost enough to set me over the edge. He pressed himself against me and me wrapped around him once again, pinning my upper body against the stone wall of the shower so he could thrust freely.
He stroked my chest with his free hand and his fingertips grazed the most sensitive parts of my flesh before finding their way back down between my legs. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. I wasn't sure whether I needed comforting from the sweet pain of him inside of me or from my own desperation, but his scent provided it either way.
I explored the exposed flesh and ran my fingers through his hair, tasting just the surface and knowing that a spring of the sweetest nectar flowed just underneath.
“Careful,” he warned with a low chuckle. The word was strained and I could hear him panting over the increasing sound of his heartbeat.
At that moment, I knew what it was. The phantom need I hadn't been able to describe even to myself. I wan
ted to sate myself with him in every way. In that moment, we were one physically and emotionally, and that last frontier of oneness was begging to be explored.
“Sorry,” I murmured, turning away. “I don't know what came over me.”
His thrusting slowed long enough for him to look at me. His expression wasn't one of fear or disgust as Sebastian's had been. His eyes were still glassy with desire and a hint of curiosity. “Vampires tend to feed during intimacy. I guess hybrids are the same.”
“Please, can we pretend it didn't happen?” I asked hopefully. “I didn't mean to ruin the mood.”
He laughed huskily. “That's not possible. If biting me will heighten the experience for you, then do it,” he murmured, reaching down to stroke my hair. “Damned scoundrel though it may make me, I want to be the one who fulfills your every desire.”
His words sent a shiver down my spine and I could only nod. He turned away to allow me access to his neck and I paused for a moment, wondering if I could really handle the temptation. When I had tasted his blood the first time, it had sent me into a spiral of indulgence.
I reminded myself that subduing me would hardly be a feat for the wolf, even in this form. Whether it was a valid justification or simply me giving into my burgeoning vampire nature, I can't say, but it was the sight of his pulse beating invitingly In a vein just underneath the skin that made the decision for me. It was mesmerizing.
Turning my head, I sank my new fangs into his ripe flesh and became one with the exquisite rhythm that throbbed deep within me. My fangs itched to plunge deeper, but I resisted the urge. I became drunk off him immediately and the faint intoxication only heightened the pleasure that was sending small shivers throughout my body.
The moment I bit into him, he let out a sharp gasp that turned into a deep moan. At first, I thought it was from pain but his thrusts became more desperate and his nails dug into my flesh with the frantic clawing of a man who had reached the brink of pleasure and for the first time in his life had no idea what to do with it. As I lapped at his blood, He gripped my hair and held me to his neck, groaning his approval.