by Audra Hart
“I know, bébé, but you are sore.”
“Not that sore…”
He tsks me gently and says; “Patience, mon petit chat chaud.”
I giggle, “Did I translate that right? Now I am your hot kitten? Or your hot cunt?”
“Definitely to both, but I was thinking kitten,” Damian growls before he parts my legs and reveals my center for his inspection. “Translate this one, baby; J'adore votre chatte chaude.”
“Well thank you, leannan for loving my hot cunt. And let me say; J'adore votre pénis en érection”
Damian laughs and leans forward to kiss my swollen external lips. “Baby, I never thought I would enjoy speaking French again. But with you it’s a lot of fun.”
I pick up on a fleeting negative emotion, deep, hidden pain. I sit up and grasp his face gently. “Damian, look at me sweetheart.” He does and I search his face, he’s way too good at hiding his emotions. “Don’t hide from me. Someday, when you are ready I hope you will tell my about the pain she inflicted on you. I want to know because I need to be very sure that I never do anything that will hurt you like she did.”
“Fuck, baby, you don’t miss much, do you?”
“I have my oblivious moments, but being aware of people’s emotions and helping them deal with them is what I do. And while I don’t want to be your therapist, because we are mates, equals, and lovers… I still want to help if I can. And I really, really don’t want to unknowingly give you pain.” I lean in and kiss him tenderly, trying to pour all of my love and empathy into that one kiss.
Damian pulls away from me and asks; “Do you know that song Monster by Skillet?” I nod and my heart sinks. That’s really how he sees himself. “Breena, that song could be my personal anthem.”
I push him over on his back and straddle his hips. I lean down and tenderly kiss his lips and run my hands from his shoulders down his arms until I entwine my fingers with his. “You might feel that way, but our feelings can be the worst liars we ever encounter. And it in your situation it’s even more difficult to sort the truth from the lies because you have become a creature that craves blood for its very survival, and has learned to revel in violence and debauchery.”
I withdraw my right hand from his left and place it over his heart. “But there is so much more to the man before me than the ‘monster’ that you believe you are. You are intelligent, protective, solicitous, loving, gentle, humble… fuck, Damian, you are amazing and just don’t realize it. You may never fully grasp that truth, but luckily for both of us, I understand it and whatever power brought us together recognizes it.”
“Breena, if you were ever near me in a fight you would see what a monster I truly am. I crave the pain I inflict and receive, I savor, no, I relish the defeat of my foe. I glory in their pain, their blood, their annihilation.” He reaches up and caresses my face, “There’s no way you can understand that. You are too pure… too good.”
I laugh and close my eyes and recall a certain memory… I reach for Damian’s hand to place his palm on my forehead and share my memory, I allow him to relive the experience with me. When the images, sensations and feelings begin to flood his mind and soul he tries to pull his hand away, but I force him to remain in contact. I can feel his surprise at my strength and his absolute shock at what he is learning about me.
Once I have relived every single nuance of the memory I open my eyes and look at my beloved. His eyes are wide and I can feel his horrified shock at what I revealed. “Was that real?” I nod. “Holy shit! Did I feel what I think I felt? Did you get off while killing those three Ghouls?”
“Yeah, I did. Kind of makes me one sick pup don’t it?”
He shakes his head no. “They deserved to die. I am just surprised you enjoyed it so much.”
“I am too. It took me a very long time to come to grips with that. But I have because it’s only one part of me, it’s not who I am.” I reach up and tug on a strand of my wild, tousled hair. “Just like this bright red hair does not define me, it’s just a part of me… my enjoying the total obliteration of those three living beings doesn’t define me either, it’s just part of me. Not a part that I am proud of, but part of me just the same.”
I reach out and trace his lips, “That’s not the only memory I have like that I could share with you. I am afraid I have had many similar experiences over the centuries and I suspect it will happen again because I am not the kind that will walk away from a fight. In fact, if the bad guy is bad enough… I relish the fight. Relish his or her defeat at my hands.”
“Thank you for sharing that with me, mon cher. I am grateful for two reasons, I feel a little less like a monster to know that someone as good as you could revel in taking a life, but more importantly I now know I don’t have to be so very afraid for you around me. You could actually defend yourself if I lost control.”
“I could,” I concede. “But it won’t ever be necessary.”
Damian laughs and rolls me over and begins to kiss my chest and knead my breasts. “Fuck, baby, I want some of that confidence you have in me.”
“Well just stick with me, stud, it’s contagious,” I quip.
He flicks his tongue over my nipple and says, “Do me a favor, mon amour, don’t call me stud.”
“Okay.” What the hell? I can sense his unease. What did I do now?
He suckles hard at that nipple and moves to suckle the other while pressing against the apex of my thighs with his thigh causing me to arch my hips to meet him and savor the sweet friction. This move successfully makes me forget that I said something to upset him. “Leannan, I want you,” say in this breathy little voice that doesn’t even sound like my own voice. I sound needy… hot and very needy.
Damian moves down my body with his talented mouth until he is laving my tender core. I am moaning and arching up to experience more. I am lost in the pleasure my mate is giving me.
He moves his mouth and blows on my throbbing sex. “She used to call me stud and mon petit cheval.” Anger roils hotly inside at me at the thought of that predatory bitch calling my sweet Damian her little horse. Obviously she picked that nickname and ‘stud’ because of how well he’s endowed.
I sit up and tilt his chin up to kiss his lips, I savor my scent on his mouth before I whisper; “She was a fucking fool as well as a predator. Vous êtes un homme d'honneur avec le coeur plein d'amour.”
He meets my eyes and asks, “You really believe I am a man of honor with a heart full of love?”
I nod. “I know it.” I grin like a fool when he seems to accept my words. “Your glorious cock doesn’t define you anymore than my bright red hair defines me.”
He reaches up and tugs on a lock of coppery colored tresses. “Maybe not, but I love your bright red hair.”
I reach out and brush my hand over his soft, shiny black hair before quipping; “And I love your beautiful black hair and that glorious cock.”
He laughs and moves up to grasp my hands and pin them to the bed above my head, “Fuck, Breena, you are so baaaad!”
I moan because the aforementioned cock is pressed against the apex of my thighs. “Oooo yeah I am very bad. I simply refuse to behave, so why don’t you fuck your horny little mate into submission?”
“Be careful what you ask for, little girl,” he growls playfully.
I raise an eyebrow, “Sir? Was that a challenge?”
He pulls back and looks at me with candid appraisal. “Do you want to play?”
I shrug, at least as much as I can with my arms pinned above my head. “Let’s say I want to explore whether or not I want to play. I don’t know how I would feel if you ever truly dominated me or punished me. I know I would resent the hell out of you if you ever deliberately made me feel shame or humiliation… but… some of the other things, I am just not sure.”
“Breena, I would like to show you so many things, amour.” I shiver at his words wondering just what he is thinking about specifically. “I have never enjoyed shame and humiliation, mine or anyone else’s
. Not even at my absolute lowest. You don’t have to worry about that because I will never shame or humiliate you.” He leans down and suckles one of my nipples very hard. “But I would love to help you discover exactly what your body responds to, maybe explore your limits.”
I open my legs and wrap them around my lover’s waist and say, “I want you. Inside of me. Right now.”
He chuckles in that sexy gravelly way that makes my core quiver. “You are an impatient one, aren’t you, bébé?” I nod because it’s true.
He smirks before he kisses me tenderly before he trails his lips around to my ear to murmur softly; “I can train some of that impatience out of you. But I am not sure that I want to. I like it. You make me feel amazing, mon amour. You are beautiful, sexy, powerful and strong… yet you are so eager for me. Only for me.”
“I am,” I concede softly as I tilt my head giving him full access to my throat. “I really am, Damian.”
His free hand works down my belly between our bodies and strokes my core. “You are wet here, bébé. Your sweet pussy is so hot and wet. For me and only for me.” He slips two fingers inside of me and pushes deep, almost painfully so. “You won’t ever share this with anyone but me because you are mine. Mine!”
His words, while sexy and seductive sounding, piss me off royally. I snarl angrily at him, “Get the fuck off of me!” And when he doesn’t move fast enough to suit me, I shove him away from me so hard he crashes into the wall.
“What the fuck, Breena?” he asks, looking genuinely confused and little pissed off himself.
“You won’t ever share this with anyone but me because you are mine! Did you really say that shit to me, Damian-I’m-the-goddamned-man-in-charge-Summers?” I snap angrily.
“Uh yeah. What’s wrong with that? You are mine,” he says still looking confounded by actions and my obvious anger.
“I am over eight hundred fucking years old, Damian! I have lived all these years without succumbing to the thousands of sexual advances I have gotten. Do you think that you are the first man who ever wanted me?” He starts to speak but I cut him off. “Well let me tell you, you are not! And yet you still seem to think it’s necessary to tell me not to let anyone else touch me. What the fuck is wrong with you, Damian? I am not some loose woman with an uncontrollable libido who can’t control herself!”
I get up out of the bed and find my tank top on the floor and tug it back on in a flurry of anger. I find my panties and put them on too. I look over at Damian and he still looks like he’s not getting it. I snort rudely and roll my eyes at him.
“Don’t you ever fucking treat me like I am a possession, Damian! We are true mates. Equals. Lovers. You don’t fucking own me!” I am yelling again by the time I finish that little statement and my anger is dangerously close to making me say something that I will regret so I decide to remove myself from his presence until I can calm down.
“I’m leaving, be back later,” I snap before I slip on my jeans and my old motorcycle boots.
“Where are you going?” Damian asks softly. I am even angrier than ever because he still looks completely dumbfounded by my reaction to what he said to me.
“To see my friend, Jenny. I will back later.” And with that I weave a finding spell and go to Jenny’s place in New Orleans.
It occurs to me as I translocate to my friend that Luca and I both have chosen to walk away from our mates in the middle of a bit of a crisis for our kind. But I know for a fact that I fully intend to return to Damian as soon as I calm down and I suspect that my brother in law will be back very soon as well. I am leaving because I refuse to tolerate Damian talking down to me and trying to control me. I am not sure if that was his intent because I never felt any malice from him… but…
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jenny doesn’t look even remotely surprised when I show up in the middle of her living room, still panting from my anger at Damian and my arousal from Damian’s skillful seduction. I stand there in her living room breathless, my chest heaving, my hair mussed, my lips swollen and my hard nipples jutting against my tight tank top feeling angry enough to chew iron nails and spit them out.
“Ut-oh, mon ami,” she says. “Looks like you had a lover’s spat.”
I shake my head no. “I may not have a lover after that. It wasn’t a spat. It was me getting extremely pissed off and leaving so that I can cool down.”
“That sounds serious indeed,” my friend Jenny says with a knowing look on her face. “It all also sounds like you fully intend to return.” I smile sheepishly because my friend knows me pretty well considering I have kept so many secrets from her over the years.
“It sounds serious enough for a strong cup of my fine chicory coffee, a piece of my buttered pecan rum cake and a sympathetic ear.” She turns to walk towards her kitchen and looks back over her shoulder at me. “Come on, Bree, I’ll even dump a couple of fingers of that spiced rum you like into your coffee, just the way you like it.” I grin at my friend’s retreating back and follow her wordlessly.
Once we are settled at Jenny’s kitchen table with generous slices of her rum cake and massive mugs of her fine coffee she looks at me and says; “Okay, lady, spill. Tell me about this man of yours and what he did to make you so angry that you revealed yourself to me this way.”
I take a big drink of the spiked coffee and open my mouth to spill my guts about my new mate. I give her a brief rundown of Morna’s situation and her basically adopting Damian. I describe our first meeting and everything we have been through together since then. When I finish up describing what transpired between us in my quarters before I left the Gateway she leans back in her chair chuckling. “Bree, first of all, mon cheri, he wasn’t treating you like you are a whore. He doesn’t believe you will have sex with anyone else. He was telling you he loves you. That he is the only man for you.”
“Sure didn’t sound that way to me,” I pout as I finish the last bite of my second piece of her fine cake. I get up from her table and pour myself some more coffee and top off Jenny’s cup while I am at it. I sit back down at the table and dump some more rum into the mug and exhale long and slow through pursed lips. “You really think that was all he was saying?”
Jenny nods and tries to hide her smile. “Your Damian sounds like the kind of man who needs to lay claim to his woman. Someone who needs to exert some dominance in the relationship. It wasn’t an insult, mon ami. He treasures you. Men tend to say stupid shit like that without thinking. I know you are a woman who expects all people, especially yourself, to be as good as their word. This Damian knows this as well… but he was claiming his woman. Exerting his position, marking his territory if you will. It’s primitive almost feral… but it is what it is. For a man like him, it would be natural.”
She thoughtfully toys with her coffee cup for a moment and says; “You said he had a rough life before he was Changed and has turned his back on the life most Stone Colds choose to lead.” I nod. “Maybe he doesn’t feel like he deserves you, Breena. Maybe he was just reassuring himself that you are truly his.”
I take another drink of coffee and play with the lovely embroidered linen napkin Jenny gave me when served my cake to me. I am trying to process Jenny’s words and weigh their validity. I am still feeling offended and pissed off so I say; “It sure sounded like he has little regard for my honor. I don’t like that and I am not sure I am cut out to be anyone’s possession.”
“I suspect he only truly seeks to possess your heart and I think he already owns that lock, stock and barrel.”
I snort and roll my eyes. “Duh.” I take another drink of the coffee. “I just got so pissed off him talking to me like that. Like I would ever let anyone else touch me like he was. I mean I haven’t been with anyone else… ever. Jeez, I am over eight hundred years old and I think I know to keep my panties on without being told that I need to do so.”
Jenny laughs happily and picks up our plates and goes to load them in her dishwasher. “He’s a vamp, Bree. They are possessive and territ
orial. I am sure he doesn’t doubt your honor in the least.”
I shrug. “He better not. I will sic some slug demons on him if he does and then kick his ass for him.”
Jenny laughs and sits back down across from me at her kitchen table. “I still can’t believe you are mated to a Vampire.” She chuckles and shakes her head like the whole situation amuses her.
“He’s more than that!” My need to defend Damian to my friend surprises me and I have to smile at bit at myself when Jenny grins at me. “He’s really very special. I have never met anyone like him. He is beautiful, sweet, loving, smart and honorable.”
“Well, duh! You wouldn’t be involved with him if he wasn’t all of those things and more. And he sure as hell wouldn’t be your true mate,” Jenny says with a knowing chortle.
“Earlier you said ‘first of all’, what’s second?” I ask with comically raised eyebrow.
Jenny chuckles. “Second of all…” She smirks at me. “It sounds like you two have been taking a pretty intense crash course in getting to know each other. All of the demons and skeletons in our closets usually reveal themselves to our lovers in a more natural and much slower pace. You were probably both feeling a little overwhelmed by that had transpired and been shared between you.”
I nod. I know she’s right. I suspect I actually overreacted, but I would probably do the same thing again if it happened tomorrow. I felt compelled to assert my independence, my honor, my own sense of right and wrong.
A few silent minutes pass` companionably as I digest Jenny’s wise counsel. I take another swig of my coffee and say; “You sure took my sudden appearance and the news about me being a Spell Weaver and all of that other stuff really well.”
Jenny laughs and says; “Well, honestly I thought you were probably a Dream Walker because of the work you do with the PTSD patients. But I knew you were a powerful magical Immortal. I just didn’t know exactly what kind. And I knew you were old because I heard Richelle Bovary talking about you wiping out a nest of vamps that had partnered up with a slew of demons back right after ‘the War’, so I knew you weren’t as young as you look.” I smile because in the Deep South ‘the war’ means the Civil War.