by Joey W. Hill
“Jerk.” She punched him, landing a nice solid thunk on his chest before settling herself back on the couch. Raising her head, she sniffed at him, a miffed queen.
“Show me what you can do with the water,” John said, his eyes alight with fascination.
“He did the mall stuff, too,” Farida chimed in.
That was easier. Kane poured himself a glass of water, closed his hand around the cup and turned it over onto the side table. As he lifted the cup, John watched when the water was left in place, a perfect mold. Gathering the blanket around her and shifting, Farida touched the water with a fingertip. “Wow,” she said, on a breath.
“Do you change the nature of it? What do you do?” John demanded.
“Nothing really. It’s like clay. I can feel it, and I just mold it, in my mind.”
John muttered a few thoughts to himself, most of it an incoherent string of words that Kane was sure Lord Brian would completely understand. To him, it might as well be ancient Sanskrit. He shot Farida an amused look and found her eyes dancing. He waited until John bent close enough that he nearly had his nose against the cone of water and then doused him in one shot.
“Christ, Kane.” John snapped back up, swiping at his face, and snorted when Kane tossed a towel at him. “We should really show that to Lord Brian. Or… wait. Does anyone else know?”
“Just you two. I wanted you to be the first ones to know. I’ll tell my mother, don’t worry. Relations with the Fae are better than they’ve ever been. I don’t think it will be as big a deal now as it was when the Council found out my mother was half-Fae all those years ago.”
“True.” Accepting the logic of that, John finished wiping the water off his face. He glanced toward Kane’s computer, currently dark. “We don’t have to do it now, if you don’t want to, but a little later, you two want to see more about what I’ll be doing? I can log on to the think tank’s private site and show you some of the cool stuff that’s happening there.”
Up until now, he hadn’t even let John talk about it, Kane realized with a shot of guilt. One of the most important decisions of his life. “You bet I do. I want to know all about it, though you know you’ll have to dumb it down for us.
“Well that’s a given. You’re vampires, after all.”
“Oh…” Farida was off the couch in a flash and Kane joined her, tumbling John to the carpet as she did her best to pinch and tickle and Kane gave him a mild pummeling.
“Time. Time out. I surrender…” John was laughing when Kane sat back on his heels. Farida stayed sprawled over his second mark, keeping him pinned. Kane looked at the two of them there, together, the blanket barely covering Farida’s lovely skin, John’s brown-skinned hand resting near the edge of the fleece, his long legs stretched out, Kane still sitting on one of them.
As the man looked up at him, met Kane’s eyes, his own narrowed. “I bet they change color when you do the magic.”
“They change when I do lots of things. How strongly I feel about something or someone changes them as well.”
The smile died from John’s face as Kane laid a hand over his thigh, reached down and curled a hand in his shirt. Farida slid out of the way and eased back to the couch, watching them. Since Kane could feel the turmoil of emotions in John as he struggled to deal with what all this meant, he knew John needed something else from him. Maybe they needed it from each other.
“Come here.” He was already pulling him to sit up, bring him back to his feet so they could face one another.
Always a command with you, John hedged, with a slight smile that had jagged edges. But he didn’t pull away. Kane left his fingers curled in his collar, a fingertip sliding over the small silver cross that John always wore, a gift from his grandfather.
“I want something from you, John. The same thing I wanted from Farida.” He leaned in, spoke with his gaze roving over John’s face, the sensitive, clever mouth. “I want to be the first man inside of you.”
He knew John had played on the edges of it with men, but like Farida, sex had been mostly with women. Though Kane could nurse the idea that the reason might be himself, he knew John was mostly hetero, anyway, which meant Kane might be the only male ever. He liked the idea of that.
“Oh yeah?” John’s eyes went more opaque and he licked his lips, an unconscious response. Heat leaped back into Kane’s chest, his cock tightening. “Think it’s that easy?”
“Yeah, I do.” Kane sidled closer, bumped his body against him as his hand slid around his nape, held them eye to eye. “I want you to kneel by the couch, put your head in Farida’s lap. I want her to be able to touch you, hold you, while I fuck you. And if you want to put your mouth to good use on her, give her pleasure, that will please me, John. I want to give my serv…you both pleasure.”
A muscle flexed in John’s jaw. “You almost called me your servant.”
“I’ve thought of you that way a long time.”
“I don’t mind if you always think of me that way.”
Kane stilled as the man put his hand on Kane’s hip, dug in hard. “Because I know what it means to a vampire,” John said. “When it’s meant the right way. Something more than blood or love, something that never goes away. I like the idea of that with you. With both of you.”
Kane swallowed. “Then let Farida second mark you, too. So we’ll always be able to talk to one another, connect with one another. So nothing and no one can break the bond between the three of us. Even us.”
John looked at Farida. At her nod, he brought his attention back to Kane. A pounding, weighted moment passed. Though Kane could have been in his mind to anticipate it, for once he was glad he didn’t, because it meant everything to him that John reached for him first. Putting both hands on Kane’s shoulders, his grip strong, hard, he yanked them together so he could clash lips, tongue and teeth. The uncontrolled passion of it spilled all over Kane, John’s mind opening to him like the earth itself, taking him deep, past mystery, so he could feel and see just how much John had wanted to do this. He scored his lips on Kane’s fangs deliberately, bringing him the faint, sweet smell of his servant’s blood. John knew how to rouse a vampire. This particular vampire.
Kane took control, breaking the kiss. “Take off your clothes,” he ordered low, his eyes blue and green flame. “Do it, now.”
John stripped, his eyes never leaving him. He did have a slim, strong build, his mocha-colored skin paler beneath his clothes. His muscles were lean and smooth, his skin firm and warm. Kane wanted to lay claim to every inch. He would tonight. That was what he was being given, what he would take.
John backed up a step, another one. Then he turned toward Farida, meeting her gaze, and sank to his knees as Kane had ordered him to do. She opened the fleece blanket, showing him her naked body, and beckoned him forward. First he laid his head in her lap as Kane had directed, his mouth brushing her thighs.
I can smell you on her. I can smell her as well.
Kane could scent the arousal from all three of them, a heady aphrodisiac weaving them together as he took off his jeans. Lubricant was no more than a desk drawer away. Coming up behind John, he began to rub it on himself as he watched John’s mouth tease Farida’s thighs. Her amber gaze had gone the color of rich gold as she lifted it to Kane. He saw her breasts quiver, lift as John moved his head to nuzzle them. He moved over one firm nipple, began to suckle it. Her legs parted to let him get closer and John’s thighs shifted, his buttocks flexing in subtle invitation.
Putting his hands on John’s hips, Kane dropped to one knee behind the other male. “I love tasting her breasts, too,” he said on a quiet growl. “Maybe later, we’ll both suck her to climax. But right now, I want your head in her lap. I don’t want you to do anything but feel her holding you as I push inside you.”
John obeyed, a quiver going through him as Farida wound her arms over his shoulders and bent to press a kiss between them. Looking up, she caught Kane’s mouth with her own, her fingers gripping his neck, tongue stroking his.
Kane made a murmur of desire against her lips, followed by a grunt of pure satisfaction as he found John more than ready for him, pushing out as Kane sunk into his tight channel. He wondered how often John had played with this idea, maybe using toys like Farida did. He’d fantasized about Kane doing this to him, hadn’t he? He wanted to see, to find out, but he didn’t want to disrespect the pact they’d made.
Fuck, yes, I’ve fantasized about it. And I want you in here, Kane. Christ, I’d give you the third mark if you want it. Always.
It was a temptation almost too strong to resist, but thinking of his earlier words, Kane knew he would resist it. Maybe he couldn’t control bloodlust, but he wouldn’t be driven by emotional impulses to the point he denied either of his friends the lives they were meant to live. But a vampire wasn’t a selfless creature. As he’d told Farida, he had to take something for his selflessness, and this was the tithe he was demanding. John’s tight, blissful ass, which gripped him as he stroked in and out. Through Farida’s mind, he knew John had his hard cock pressed against her shins, Kane’s thrusting bumping it there in a rhythm that had John grinding against her. She lowered her head over him again, arms tightening over his shoulders, whispering encouragement to him. Kane inserted a hand between them, dug his fingers into John’s hair and turned his head back to the juncture between her legs.
“Taste, John. Give her pleasure.”
Farida’s head dropped back on the edge of the sofa as John complied immediately. Kane’s own cock jumped at the sound of John’s mouth teasing, licking and sucking her cunt. Her gaze glazed even as she held Kane’s eyes. Her lips parted, incoherent words coming from her, soft gasps and moans that made him harder, thicker, drive deeper into John’s ass.
She caught one of John’s hands, brought it to her mouth and then she bit. Once a long time ago, John had allowed her to give him the geographical marker, so she’d always know where to find him if she needed him. He’d watched over both of them that way. So giving him the second mark now wouldn’t burn as much with that first one already in place. Kane closed his eyes, enjoyed the bliss of it when their three minds twined together, as in sync inside as they now were without.
Fuck…love the way you both feel…
Coming…coming soon…oh God…don’t want it to end.
He was sure some of the same involuntary words were rolling through his mind, because there was no rational thought, just pleasure. Yearning, desire and regret, that this moment would have to be enough to hold all of them, no matter how far away they went from each other.
When Farida started to come, Kane changed his angle, reaching beneath John to grip him, stroke. “Now, John. Come.”
They came together, the three of them straining and releasing, and now Kane knew it wasn’t just him and Farida. All three of them were willing to fall, as long as they fell together.
* * *
They slept in Kane’s bed, twined together until the early dawn hours approached. Sleep would claim him and Farida soon. She was already in that hazy dozing state and Kane was close on her heels. Yet he felt John stroke his hair, touch his shoulder before he left the bed. Through half closed eyes, he watched him bend and press a kiss to Farida’s temple. When John checked his phone, he smiled.
Jackie called the safe house, Kane. She’s with them now.
Kane nodded, warmth filling him. Her willingness to trust him was an excellent Christmas gift. He caught John’s collar to brush his lips over his cheekbone, his mouth.
When I get up, I want to see what all you’re going to be doing. Don’t go too far. At least for now.
Count on it.
As John slipped from the room, Kane pulled Farida closer. Putting his head down over hers, he pulled the blanket more securely over them both. He’d received a lot of Christmas gifts tonight. Maybe it really was better to give than receive, though he figured it was pretty circular, all in all. By letting John go, by finally realizing it was more important to express his love for Farida than to hold it out of reach because of his pride, he was pretty sure he’d just received one of the best Christmas gifts he’d ever be given.
The kind that was way too big to fit under a tree.
The End
The Yule Gift
A vignette featuring Daegan’s vampire mother, Grace, from the Vampire Queen Series.
Originally posted 12/16/2015
Background: This vignette tells the story of how Daegan Rei was conceived. Daegan is one of the main characters in Books V and VI of the series, Vampire Mistress and Vampire Trinity. Grace has never herself appeared in the series, except in reference as Daegan’s mother, so this was her first introduction to my readers.
* * *
Grace inhaled the night air. It was cold tonight, below freezing. As a vampire, the temperature couldn't harm her, but she still felt the sharp cut of it through her cloak, the bite against her face. It was good to feel something different, though, something…vivid. She’d been tending the sick and dying in the village for so long she'd fallen into a fugue. Time had no more meaning. There was no day or night. The hovels were close together, so she could leave one and duck into another without much harm from the sun at dawn or dusk. The tunnel system they’d put in for her long ago, during her first years here, allowed her to move freely between them even at the height of the day. But working to care for others well past the noon time hours made her weak. So weak.
She needed blood, but there was none to be had. The plague-ridden blood wouldn’t harm her--she didn’t think--but she wouldn't draw strength from anyone still in need of it. She’d drunk from one or two poor souls right after they passed the Veil, but the blood didn’t seem to provide her any sustenance. Maybe because her heart was weighted down with too much sorrow.
Forty-two years ago she’d come here. She’d only been passing through the area, moving on the outskirts of human dwelling places. This part of Europe was beset by fear and ignorance, people harboring a deep suspicion of strangers. Especially one who could only properly introduce herself at full dark, when most farmers were already turning in for the night. For the past several weeks, she'd confined her human contact to brief forays at the blackest times of night. Stealing into a hovel, she'd taken blood while using her compulsion ability, so that the experience for her human source was a sensuous, dark dream.
But that night forty-two years ago, not far past the dusk hour, she'd detected a child in the forest, and scented her fear. Agnes, collecting herbs on the village's periphery to help her mother, had been distracted by the wonders of nature that called to the young. She'd become lost in the twilight that too quickly turned to full dark, disorienting her. When Grace located her, her intent was to deposit the six-year-old at the dwelling closest to the outer perimeter of the village and vanish back into the night. Two things prevented that. One, Agnes would not relinquish her death grip on Grace's hand until she saw her mother, and two, her mother, who was out desperately looking for Agnes and calling her name, saw the two of them.
That still should have been the end of it. If Agnes's mother had been like most peasant women Grace had encountered, she would have snatched her child away from Grace and shouted at her to begone, making the sign against evil. A beautiful woman with no marks of labor on her face, out with no escort in the night, could be nothing other than a denizen of evil. Yet Mary did not react that way, because Mary was a witch herself.
She recognized what Grace was, but she hadn’t reacted with fear or revulsion. The village called Sanctity had a circle of thirteen witches who were its spiritual core. They observed the rituals of the year, raised energy on the full moon, and did all in the power of their hearts and souls to care for their families. The brothers, husbands and fathers in the village accepted what their sisters, wives and daughters were, because love lit the mind with truth, leaving no room for fear or ignorance. The secret of Sanctity was closely guarded, however, because all in the village knew such light was a precious commodity in a world defined by darkness, poverty, fear an
d disease.
The night she found Agnes, Grace had been invited into Mary's hovel to share the hearth and get warm. Mary fed Agnes, then held her exhausted child in her lap as she fell asleep. "She's such a sensible child, and usually I stay mindful of her whereabouts. But Georg, the blacksmith, had a fever and I've been tending him long hours. I grew careless. A mistake that can so often lead to tragedy." Mary stroked Agnes's soft brown hair off her brow, and her voice wavered. "I owe you a debt that can never be repaid."
Grace shook her head, and tried not to focus on the artery beating in Mary's neck. Snatching blood here and there without waking other family members who shared quarters with her quarry didn't allow her to feed to fullness that often. She was young, by vampire standards, less able to control her blood hungers. She needed to go. However, Mary rose and put Agnes in Grace's arms before Grace could move. The little girl turned against Grace without complaint or distress and Mary smiled a little. "She doesn't trust easily. She senses something in you." Moving to the corner of the hut that served as a kitchen, she found a pewter cup and picked up the knife by a stack of herbs. "As frightened as she was, she didn't panic and leave the plants she'd picked. She knew Georg would need them. She's a good child. An angel."
The lines around Mary's eyes crinkled. "Other times she can be an imp, as stubborn and willful as her father ever was, Goddess grant him peace. But she could be a fallen angel, and I'd love her the same. Maybe more. It's the darkness that challenges and strengthens our love for one another. It's hard to hold a sunbeam, but once it sinks into the dirt and becomes part of a tree, that's when it gains true substance."