by Eden Bradley
Pleasure ran like fire through her veins. Her pussy throbbed.
One tiny drop of blood pooled. She swore she could smell it, sweetly metallic. But still he didn’t bite all the way into her flesh.
She wanted him to. Craved it. She waited, her head spinning as she sank into subspace, that lovely, floating place where she gave herself over to him. To his command.
Aleron.
“I want to drink from you,” he whispered, his breath warm and cool all at the same time against her aching skin. “I want to eat you up. I want to taste you. To fuck you. To have you in every possible way.”
“Yes…” she breathed.
Everything happened in an instant. She found herself roughly turned over onto her stomach, her face pressed into the sheets, his body over hers. He held both her wrists behind her back in an almost crushing grip. She loved it, gloried in the sensation of being completely overtaken. Overpowered.
His fingers swiped at her soaking pussy, and she tried to surge back into his touch.
“Still,” he demanded.
Then his hand parting the cheeks of her ass, his fingers sinking into that tight hole.
“Oh…”
He pressed a little deeper, and she drew in a breath against the pain. But the pain itself was pleasure, shimmering over her skin, shafting deep into her body. Her pussy was empty, needy. Yet his fingers in her ass were exactly what she wanted, needed.
“Breathe,” he told her. “Take it, Meeraj. I know you can. You will. For me.”
“Oh, yes, for you… Anything for you, Aleron.”
She forced her body to relax, and his fingers worked their way past that first tight ring of muscle. It burned. It felt wonderful. She was going down hard, the ass play sending her hurtling into subspace as the endorphins flooded her body, her mind.
He worked her with his fingers, and all she was aware of was the exquisite sensation, the imprisonment of her arms behind her, the scent of clean linens mixed with the pure scent of Aleron’s ancient skin, and the sound of his sharp, panting breath.
Pleasure built, spiraled. She needed more.
He pulled his hand from her abruptly, and it came down hard on her ass, the smacking sound echoing in the room. Then again, and again, each slap bringing a stinging pleasure, a burning pain.
Tears stung her eyes. She needed him, needed more. Yet it was too much. Pain and pleasure and that yawning emptiness in her body.
Aleron…
He kept spanking her, his fingers digging into her wrists. She didn’t care about the pain. She only wanted to feel him inside her.
“Aleron,” she gasped. “Fuck me, please.”
“Ah, to hear you beg me…”
He was on her then, his hard body over hers, pressing her into the mattress, her breasts crushed against the sheets. He released her arms, and she had one moment to draw them over her head before he was inside her. He gave one thrust, and his beautiful cock was buried in her aching pussy. He pumped into her, over and over, pleasure as hard and pummeling as his cock.
“Ah, Meeraj… I’m going to come.”
“Yes, do it.”
There was an animal growl, then his teeth sinking into the side of her neck. The pain was savage at first, then faded away as he drank from her. She saw it all again—men and women and Emeline and the starlit meadow. Pleasure and sorrow, years upon years. The pleasure in her body rose, like the stars in that velvet-dark sky, soaring. Until she broke with it, her climax a thundering white heat. She was burning, coming. Coming and coming.
The blood scent was wild in her nostrils, that strange singing in her ears, stronger than ever before, making her veins hum, her body vibrate. Aleron’s body was melded to hers, part of her, his thrusting, hard cock pulsing with his own sharp pleasure, then his climax as he came, yelling her name.
“Meeraj! Ah!”
One final shaft of pleasure, searing her, marking her forever.
His.
The world was fading fast, her vision going black.
Aleron whispered to her, “Stay with me, Meeraj.” Then, more urgently, “Don’t go away. Fight it. Stay with me.”
She struggled, but it was like being dragged under by a heavy tide.
Vaguely, she felt him turn her over, pull her into his arms. Then a glass of wine at her lips.
“Drink.”
She wanted to. But she was distracted by the memory of Aleron holding her in the field at night, the sky a dark vault overhead. She was naked, the cool night air tickling her skin, the scent of lilacs everywhere. They always bloomed in the spring. He knew how she loved them. He brought her here, to this meadow near their home in Lyon, each year. Her beloved Aleron.
“Come back to me, Meeraj.”
“Emeline.”
Her own voice was so soft she could barely hear it. But she knew that wasn’t right. Emeline?
“Meeraj!”
Sorrow in his voice. She could barely stand to hear it.
“Meeraj, open your eyes. Do it now.”
She tried, but her eyes were so heavy. She wanted to be in the meadow, with him.
“I am right here, Meeraj. You will obey me.”
Yes, of course she would. She wanted to. Needed to. And he was right there with her, after all.
With great effort, she opened her eyes. Aleron was bent over her, his expression tortured. He was more beautiful than ever. She loved him so.
Her heart stuttered.
Loved him?
She hardly knew him. It was her, Emeline, whoever she had been to him. She was inside her head. She felt light, as though she were only tenuously connected to her body.
“Aleron?”
“Drink the wine, Meeraj.”
He held the cup for her, and she sipped. It was something dark and rich, sweet on her tongue.
“Mulled wine,” he told her. “The herbs will restore you.”
She drank more, gradually reconnecting with her body, coming up out of that dark dream-place. Became more aware of his solid arms around her, the stone-hardness of his body that no longer seemed unusual to her.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes. Thank you.”
He stroked her hair from her face, his hand gentle.
“I did not mean for you to see that. To feel it.”
“Who was she?”
His face went blank, so quickly she barely had time to absorb the change. It was as though a shadow had come over his eyes, his lips, his jaw, tightening. He pulled away from her, only the tiniest bit, but she could feel the distance.
“Aleron, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. It just happened. I’m sorry.”
Tears gathered in her eyes. She wasn’t quite sure why. It seemed to be his pain she felt, his loss. And perhaps some of it was her own, that momentary loss of his closeness. Why should that affect her so? She was still too disoriented to figure it out.
“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”
She shook her head. “No. You can’t blame yourself for your grief.”
He turned his head away to stare out the window, but his fingers curled around her waist where he still held her.
“This is something I do not share with anyone. It is mine to bear.”
“Aleron… I’ve lost too. I understand.”
“Have you? Have you felt these same things?” he asked, his voice a whisper.
The tears burned, and she let out a small, uncontrollable sob.
He turned back to her, his eyes that lovely, brilliant blue.
“I’ve made you cry,” he said regretfully, his hand coming up, his fingers brushing at the corner of her eye. “Beautiful tears. Beautiful girl. I don’t want you to cry now. Tell me why you’re so sad.”
“I’m sad for you. And for me. It’s not pity, Aleron. Won’t you tell me about her?”
He paused, watching her. But there was life in his face once more, his eyes unshuttering, even if his jaw was still held tight.
“Tell me first.
Tell me who you’ve lost, Meeraj.”
“Everyone.”
Chapter Four
“It started with my father,” she said, the words cutting unexpectedly on their way out. “He was gone before I was born. No one is certain what happened to him. He could have been killed. He could have run off. He worked for the Resistance, so it could have been anything. My oldest brother was next. He was walking me home from school. He was shot and killed in front of me.”
A hard knot was forming in her stomach
“How old were you?” Aleron asked.
“Twelve. Jai was just sixteen. But that neighborhood is rough. Camden, where I grew up, where I live even now. Those things happened all the time there. They still do.
“My mother we lost when I was seventeen, to cancer. There are no doctors, you know, when you’re poor. She kept working until she couldn’t walk any longer. For us, my brother and me. And then Dev… I lost Dev to the Resistance last year, to the government soldiers. They brought his body to me. There were witnesses. Not that it mattered by then. He was dead. Like the rest of my family. This is why I came to you. To the Midnight Playground. Do you understand? Nothing can frighten me.”
She didn’t realize there were tears pouring down her cheeks until Aleron lifted a corner of the fine, white sheet to wipe them away.
“So much sadness,” he said, his gaze intent on her.
“No more than your own, Aleron.”
“Yes.”
They sat together in silence for several minutes.
“It’s your turn,” she said.
He nodded, took her hand in his and held on tightly. He turned to the window once more, his profile like gorgeously chiseled stone. His skin was poreless, gleaming in the morning light. The sunlight coming through the windows caught on the pale tips of his lashes, and she could see for the first time how long they were.
“Her name was…Emeline. I believe you know that already.”
“Yes.”
“She was from a family of noble French blood, although by those years no one put much stock into such things. A woman of great intelligence, great beauty. I fell in love with her the moment I saw her, in that meadow full of lilacs… She’d fallen from her horse. Even though her ankle was badly sprained, she didn’t cry. She was independent. Fiercely so. Brave.”
He stopped and held so perfectly still he looked as though he were a statue.
He said softly, “She loved me.”
When he raised his head and turned back to face her, Meeraj saw such grief in his eyes it hurt to look at him.
“Of course she did,” she said.
“Not enough to spend eternity with me. But no, that’s not fair. She simply valued her human life too much. I cannot blame her for that. Not my Emeline.”
“What happened?”
“I offered her the Turning Kiss, but she refused to take it. I spent a lifetime with her, watching her age, always remaining young myself. She tried to send me away a few times, but I would never go. I was as stubborn as she was. I loved her as she loved life.”
“It must have been difficult, to watch her decline. I saw it, with my mother.”
“Perhaps this is why I can tell you these things. I haven’t spoken her name out loud for a hundred years. I haven’t told anyone about her. Those who caught glimpses of her during the Seeking Kiss have never dared to mention her to me.”
“I did more than see her, Aleron,” she said.
“I know.”
“Can you tell me about the meadow?”
“Ah.”
His fingers tightened around her hand once more, hard and hurting, but she drew in a breath. She would bear it for him.
“She loved that place. She always said it belonged to her. I took her there to die. This is what you saw. Our last night together.”
“Aleron, I’m sorry!”
She was crying again. She couldn’t help it. There was so much love, so much pain, in his voice. She felt it in her blood, in her heart. And with it was her own. The old pain of losing Jai, her mother. The still fresh pain of losing Dev.
“Aleron, how is it that I could have thought I’ve dealt with all of this already, that I’ve moved beyond these things? And for you, a hundred years later, the loss is still fresh.”
“When you live this long a life, Meeraj, it all melds together. Memory becomes…a bit confused. Or perhaps it’s our sense of time. I understand how long it’s been since I’ve seen her. Yet in my heart it was only yesterday. And in that same way, although we met only yesterday, it feels as though you have been with me for a hundred years.”
His face was perfectly serious. And although she didn’t have his long life, she had that same strange sense, as though they had known each other a very long time.
She dared to reach for him then, to touch his face. It was smooth beneath her fingertips. He caught her hand, kissed the palm, then her fingers, warming her.
“Perhaps there is some reason to the world, after all,” he said. “I’ve never believed it before. And I must admit that I’m surprised there are still things to learn. Arrogant of me. The arrogance of a long life. Perhaps it is inevitable to feel we know it all, we immortals.”
She smiled at him, happiness like a gentle heat seeping under her skin. She had expected adventure when she’d gone to Midnight Playground. An overload of the senses. An escape. She had never expected this.
His eyes were drawing her in, deeper and deeper. She couldn’t look away. She looked closer, found the striations of icy silver among the blue, the midnight ring around the brilliant iris. And deeper, to the emotion there, to the glimpse into his soul he was allowing her.
She felt touched in a way she never had in her life, that he would share this with her, and her alone.
She felt chosen.
Her chest was knotting up, but the tears dwindled, faded away. She didn’t need to cry anymore. She simply needed to be with him. And because it was him, because it was her, she knew she could have the tenderness she suddenly craved, and the harshness and the command her body always desired.
His hand snaked around the back of her neck and he drew her roughly to him. His mouth came down hard on hers, his tongue opening her up, slipping between her lips. His kiss was hard, demanding. Perfect.
He kissed her harder, bruising her lips, and she moaned into his mouth as he laid her down on the bed. He stripped off his leather pants in an instant. Drawing her arms behind her, he pressed her down into the bed, and she sank into the softness of the thick mattress. He laid his body over hers, like granite upon her flesh, yet warm, alive, the weight of him holding her arms tight beneath her. The scent of him, fleshy with her blood in his veins, filled her head. It was like perfume to her—his body, her blood.
He spread her thighs, and his hard cock was pushing between the swollen lips of her cleft. She spread wider, taking him in.
He pushed deeper, until he was buried to the hilt. Until she felt him at the entrance to her womb. He thrust, hard and punishing. She took him in, loved it, as pleasure shivered through her system. Another rough thrust, then another, his hips grinding into her. Her shoulders ached, her arms still pinned beneath her body. But she loved being rendered helpless in this symbolic way, even though with the power of his ancient, vampiric body, he was immeasurably stronger than her.
Desire came in wave after wave, building, cresting. With each sharp plunge, his cock drove pleasure deeper, into her belly, her sex. Her clit was pulsing, waiting in blissful expectation for his hips to piston into her, to press onto that swollen nub of flesh.
He was kissing her as hard as he was fucking her. His tongue, his cock, were driving deep. One rocking thrust and the bed crashed against the wall behind them. Another and there was the sound of breaking glass as the bedside lamp crashed onto the floor. She hovered at the edge of climax, waiting for him.
Aleron pulled his mouth from hers. “Come, Meeraj.”
“With you…”
“Yes, now!”
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nbsp; He plunged into her, his hips bruising, his pelvic bone slamming into her clit. She came, shattering, brilliant, blinding, like a thousand stars in the night sky. As she shuddered, Aleron tensed all over, his hips thrusting sharply, his hands going into her hair, pulling hard.
“Ah…Meeraj!”
He called her name into her hair, then crushed his cheek to hers, hard and bruising and everything she needed from him.
She was still shivering, tiny tremors of orgasm trembling through her body, when he whispered to her, “Stay with me.”
“I will,” she told him. “There is no place else I’d rather be.”
She had been with him for two weeks. He’d never kept a woman with him for so long, other than Nissa. Even then he’d kept Nissa for Hex. He didn’t want to question himself about why he was doing this. He was far too old for those kinds of mind games. He simply wanted her with him.
He’d never met anyone like her. She was an independent thinker, yet utterly submissive to him when it came to sex. She was tireless when it came to the BDSM play, letting him whip her for hours, spank her, then fuck her all night long. She was nearly as tireless as he was, in his immortal strength. And each time he felt the Bloodsong, more subtly than he would with another vampire, but it was there. Unmistakable. He hadn’t discussed it with her, even though he knew she’d felt it, too. He couldn’t bear to question why it was happening. He was afraid to know the answer.
In between, they talked. About nearly everything. He’d told her about his mortal life, about growing up in the Paris of the 1740s, the son of a successful merchant. He’d told her about Marie-Jean, the woman his father had forced him to marry, whom he did not love, and who died in childbirth a year into their marriage. He hardly remembered the cold woman for whom he had never felt anything. Then his transformation, the moment when he had received the Turning Kiss, at one of the earliest vampire clubs in Europe, long before the Midnight Playground had existed.
They hadn’t spoken again about Emeline. Meeraj seemed to feel that in revealing Emeline to her, he had said enough. And even in the little he’d said to her that first day, it was enough. He would never forget Emeline, but he felt as though his grief over her had loosened, that he was finally beginning to be able to separate himself from its constant and tenacious grasp.