Feral: Part One

by Arisa Baumann

  Figlio di puttana! Son of a bitch.

  Those words should have not have been as arousing as I found them. The man had compared me to a popular Italian wine, and had proceeded to describe, rather tantalizingly, how he would drink, or rather not drink, from me. Of course, in my mind this equated to the same thing, and to my mortification, I found myself inquiring if he ever would give in to the enticing pull he felt and indulge.

  “I must confess that denying myself the taste of your blood would be almost as painful as denying my feelings for you,” he answered. “But you should be aware I could never bring myself to drink from you. It would be inappropriate to do so.”

  This shocked me and left me feeling strangely disappointed.

  My face must have betrayed the myriad of emotions, because he sat up to face me when he spoke. “From the moment I awoke to my condition, I swore to myself I would not let the blood of humans pass my lips, and I failed,” he continued, “as I still do. I have striven for centuries to attempt to perfect my control, and while I have succeeded for some time, I inevitably fall short. Yet even with my failures, I still endeavor to be a better example. How do you think it would appear to my clan if I were to so easily succumb to the temptation of your blood, if I were to allow myself to partake of the luscious life that flows through your veins?"

  “Do you not just love how he presumes to know what we think? It is so horrendously aggravating.”

  My head snapped up, and I found two women standing in the door way. One was pale as porcelain; the other had a hint of mocha in her pearly skin, and after taking another look at Simon’s coloring, I reasoned she was probably of Middle Eastern descent. Either way, they were both incredibly beautiful, more so than any human I had ever met.

  "May," the younger one warned softly.

  The one named May had raven hair as straight as a yard stick which flowed all the way down her back, and eyes that seemed to be a perfect blend of rosewood and cinnamon. She looked elegant and exotic, and I felt an uncomfortable twinge of inferiority just looking at her.

  I couldn’t help but notice that while the fiery red-head’s murky brown eyes looked directly at mine, they did not seem to focus on to them, see into them, and it took me several moments to realize the reason was a lack of sight—a blind vampire!

  I felt like I would get whiplash at how fast I glanced between Simon and May then back to this other female.

  “Yes,” she interjected into my silent questions, sounding amazingly pleasant and entirely unoffended. “I’m blind, and yes, it took me awhile to learn how to be the only blind vampire I know of.”

  “Sofia Deering,” Simon began, “allow me to introduce Maymūna bint Fātima bint al-Hārith ibn al-Basīr, also called Maymūna Bashir or May O’Cleirigh. The number of her names makes mine look positively pitiful. She is both Kendal’s wife and mate.”

  And she was definitely of Middle Eastern decent.

  “So-fī-uh. What an interesting pronunciation,” the other succubus said cheerfully, pulling me from my thoughts as she walked straight to the edge of the bed. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Sofia. I’m Grace Bennett. And you’ll have to forgive May; she’s rather blunt.”

  I nibbled my lower lip for a moment then spoke up in defense of the exotic vampire. "Well, she may have a point."

  When Grace raised an eyebrow at me, I shrugged and cast another apologetic glance to my surprised mate. "It’s not like your clan is full of children. They’re adults, very old adults I’m guessing. They’re capable of making their own decisions with or without your help, and at such an age, I’m fairly certain your behavior wouldn’t really influence their choices, nor do I think your choices would the sole basis of their view of you. Not only that, it does make it sound like you’re trying to be better than everyone else,” I challenged.

  I saw Maymūna move from the doorway, her arms crossed in front of her as she spoke. "It would seem that way, but it is not," she said softly. "He does not think he is better than us. He just hates himself that much. He believes he’s a monster, a true monster. He can always believe there is forgiveness and redemption for others, but not for himself. He can see the goodness in his clan members, but not in himself. He does not think any less of us for being what we are, but he absolutely loathes his existence.”

  She stopped at the foot of the bed. "You would not know this, because you are new to the clan, but he strives, overly so, to be human because he cannot bear to be seen as what he feels is a monster. The only time I have ever seen his genuine nature show through is when he hunts. Even around the mansion, with no humans to see, he has always walked at a human’s pace," Maymūna sighed heavily. "While no one of us chose to be this way, no one of us, save Simon, tries so desperately to deny our instincts.

  “I was surprised to see him use his speed earlier and amazed when I heard him growl and purr. It is the first time in many decades I have heard him growl, and it is the first time in the centuries I have known him I have heard him purr at all. For awhile, I was beginning to think he was entirely incapable of doing so.”

  “Maymūna,” he growled her name in warning, his face contorting to show his aggravation. “While I do appreciate that you and Grace came to introduce yourself to my mate, I do believe you are pressing the limits of my benevolence. Perhaps you and Grace should visit the city while your mate is out?”

  “Of course, Simon,” the woman in question demurred, before her voice took on a playful tone. “Come, Lady Grace. It is not often we are dismissed. Best not to enrage the old lion.”

  “Maymūna!” The male’s rumbling voice reverberated off the wall. “Get. Out.”

  When we were alone, he exhaled noisily and his eyes drifted closed. “I apologize for her. She is, as Grace said, outspoken… amongst other things.”

  “Why? Why apologize?” I returned with firm gentleness. "Simon, if I'm to be your mate, I want to know you, the real you. I deserve to know exactly who and what you are. I deserve to know every part of you." I gave him a sympathetic smile when his eyes snapped open to study me. "Simon, you need to give me more credit and trust than you do."

  "Sofia—"

  "Simon, listen to me." I placed a hand on his chest. "I can’t believe you are a monster. I can’t believe you’d take delight in taking any creature’s life, human or otherwise. You said you’re a vampire. Since that’s obviously the case, you do what you must to survive. No more, no less. If you were to take pleasure in your actions, it would be different. You said yourself you try to maintain a diet of bagged and animal blood. It's admirable.”

  I worried with the inside of my lower lip as I tried to piece together my streaming thoughts. “There's a difference between pushing away the instinct to kill and denying your entire being. From what I know of you, you seem to have more restraint and more humanity than most of humanity. Humans torture, rape, kill. Our species is capable of the most unthinkable horrors." I offered a small smile. "Being a vampire doesn't make you a monster. A monster is born of behavior, and I haven’t once seen anything from you that would suggest you’re what you seem to believe you are. Or was Maymūna telling stories?"

  “I have a rather repulsive past, amore,” he responded. “I can never forget the actions of my previous life or the beginnings of this reality, but perhaps you are right, and I am not damned. No creature damned by God could be blessed with a gift as wise, charitable and loving as yourself, bella mia.

  “And for you, I will endeavor to relinquish my rather unfounded hold upon my self-hatred." He stroked my ear with a cool finger and I shivered. "But if I am to be quite honest, Sofia, I doubt that I will ever give in to my desires to drink from you. I am afraid, given my past, I would feel rather guilty for indulging myself of your delightful taste."

  I sighed. "Wow, Simon. Getting things through your head is like getting a camel through the eye of a needle."

  He smirked at me. "Nicely phrased, Sofia."

  "Thank you. I do try, but that wasn't all, I'm afraid," I chuckled. "You
have to remember, Simon, if I offer you my blood, it’s consensual. You’re taking nothing. There’s no wrongdoing under those conditions. And I’m guessing with what you said about not being able to hurt me, it’s impossible for you to take my life, given I’m your mate."

  "Sofia," he drawled in warning.

  "I'm not asking you to drink my blood," I spoke in dulcet tones, “though I suppose in the future, once I’ve gotten used to all this, I wouldn’t be opposed to you tasting it.” I reached up suddenly, pleased when he leaned down into my touch, and threaded my hands through his brown hair, mussing it and letting it spill across his face and neck. "And you might be surprised, Simon. Your clan most likely just wants you to be happy."

  He closed his eyes tightly, and I knew that he desperately wanted to argue with me, but I cut him off before he could. "May I ask you another question?"

  His eyes popped open, and he grinned mischievously. "You have not run out?"

  I made a face then smiled. “Will you purr for me again?”

  He slowly lowered himself against my side, his eyes a glittering plum as he braced himself over me on the bed with one arm. With his free hand, he pushed my hair away from my face, then stroked my cheek gently. "Sofia," he breathed, my name sounding like a prayer upon his lips. It sounded so familiar, so comfortable. “Bella mia, vita mia." He dropped his head to my shoulder, kissing and licking his way to my neck, where his tongue dragged over my racing pulse. “Piacevole."

  I was lost to his touch, overwhelmed and, beneath the haze of sudden pleasure, staggered at how quickly my fatigue and soreness disappeared and how easily and instinctively my body seemed to submit to this man. I could not stop my lips from tugging into a smile as I let my hands run languidly over his broad shoulders. When he started purring sentences in Italian, I giggled, and as his head came up, his dark eyes searching mine curiously, I explained, "You stopped speaking English altogether."

  I knew in an instant he was blushing even if no blood flooded his cheeks. It was the way he licked those delectable lips. "Does it bother you?" he questioned softly.

  I shook my head. "No, not at all. I like it. A lot," I said with a grin, "even if I can't understand any of it."

  He smirked and continued purring in his native language. "Mia diletta." His eyes gleamed down at me with wistful adoration, and when I repeated the unrecognizable term, he smiled. "Delight."

  "Piacevole?"

  He rumbled low in his chest and moved his face to nuzzle my neck, his lips parting and latching onto the flesh he found there, sucking gently before giving a flick to the sensitive skin with this tongue. "Delicious. Figuratively, though you are also quite deliziosa."

  "So you’ve hinted at before."

  I moaned as his talented mouth explored every inch of my throat and shoulders, and when his cool hand caressed one breast through the fabric of my top, I gasped and arched into the touch. It was so natural, like his hand had roamed this path before and I had given into it just as I was now. I felt the heat spreading from my face to my neck as my arousal grew more apparent. With the wet heat pooling between my thighs, I knew he could smell my desire, and I shivered as I watched him stop to inhale deeply, the soft purr changing to a sensual growl.

  While his purr was a sound of absolute beauty, his growl was pure erotic delight. Before I could even tell my brain to tell my mouth to keep itself shut, I voiced my blissful thoughts through a harsh moan, and to my utter glee, he growled louder. “Bella mia, my beautiful.”

  He claimed my lips in a tender kiss, his tongue tracing the inside of my lip before battling me for control. He murmured Italian endearments into my ear as I raised my hands to push away the creamy shirt, and as soon as I had the material free from his body, my hands roamed over his torso.

  The definition to his chest and abdomen was reasonably defined, pleasing without being excessively muscular. There was a light sprinkling of hair across his upper chest, and a tempting line trailed from just below his navel and disappeared beneath his loose black pants.

  He was stunning.

  "Simon Treviso," I whispered in my most reverent voice while I continued to memorize every line of his body, "you are truly the most gorgeous man upon this Earth." I looked up at him, my eyes locking with his. "I know I can’t make you see what I see when I look at you. I know you won’t trust in your humanity overnight, but I want you to swear to me that even when you doubt yourself, you’ll never doubt me, because I see the real you. The physical beauty I see only reflects the goodness I know is in your soul, Simon."

  I suddenly found my mate's arms wrapped around me securely, his face buried in my curls as he held my body against his. “Oh, diletta… If you only knew the things I have done, what ghosts trouble my past,” he murmured into my hair before pulling away to gaze at me. “I can hardly believe I have you. Amore mio, if there is an afterlife for my kind then I do not fear punishment, for I could not be damned and have such a treasure as you, mio tesoro." He looked more like he was trying to convince himself of this, like he was assuring himself that he would be saved from a burning hell by my existence in his life. He kissed the top of my head, my forehead, and my eyelids. He kissed every inch of my face, before sighing in contentment.

  I felt a movement that barely registered in my mind, and when the thick blue blanket draped around me, I realized he must have picked me up and placed me under the covers with his speed. I was, however, a bit disappointed not to feel his cool skin against mine, and my displeasure at not having him so close must have been written on my face since he chuckled. "I do not need my mate freezing to death in the middle of the night."

  Any reply I might have made was swept away by a yawn as my body embraced the comfort of the bed beneath me. I hated to admit that although I may have lost myself in a moment of passion, I was still exhausted from the earlier attack and the mental weight of the existence of the supernatural. I had many more questions I needed answered, but I found myself too tired to make my mouth formulate the words.

  SEVEN

  There were two iris orbs watching me intently when I woke, and I found this particularly disturbing, not because Simon was watching me specifically, but because his eyes now had more blue in them than I’d ever seen before. “Simon, when was the last time you… fed.”

  Even before he answered, the look of chagrin on his pale features spoke volumes. “It has not been so long that I require a more explicit—” his eyes raked over my blanketed form— “source of energy, but I do require blood. I am sorry, but it must be human this time.”

  “There’s almost no purple showing,” I noted, reaching up to stroke his face. “How long’s it been since your eyes have gone blue?”

  “Twenty-seven years ago.” His admission was firm, no trace of hesitation, but his eyes betrayed his regret. “Early on, even without control, I always made certain they were not innocents. If I kill, it will not be someone who is not equally as guilty of the same crime, or worse.”

  My impulse was to argue that it didn’t make his killing right, but then I had to remind myself this was not a human being, no matter how much he looked it. This was a vampire. He was to humans as a lion was to gazelles of the African savannas.

  He studied me carefully, concern etched into every line of his face, and I gave him a smile. “I’m okay, Simon. Honestly. It’s just… odd. You look human. You were human. And up until yesterday, vampires weren’t real, at least not for me.”

  He began to look doubtful, and I sighed. “Simon, I am o-kay. I’m not upset. I’m not disgusted, since I know that’s what you’re worried about, because I can see it on your face. It’s just odd. It’s probably gonna take a few weeks before I remember you’re not human.”

  He returned my smile, though his revealed hints of sadness. "Thank you, cara. And you are correct in that I do need to go hunting, but I do not wish to leave you alone." He cast a sharp glance to the bedroom door and look of relief passed across his face. "Although, Grace says she and Maymūna can keep you company if I
go."

  I pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "Then go hunting. You sent Colton away, so it’s not like he can hurt me. You go hunt, and I'll—wait, you probably don’t have any food in the house, do you?” He assured me Maymūna had gone shopping at an all-night convenient store for some basics during the night, for which I was ever so grateful. “Good. I’ll have breakfast while you… go have yours.”

  It was without a doubt the strangest thing I’d ever said in my life, not so much my literal words as the morbid meaning behind them, and my face must have reflected my bewildered acceptance, because he chuckled before leaning down and nuzzling my neck.

  I felt myself relax considerably when a slight rumble came from his chest. "Are you sure you will be all right?" he questioned through the soft purr.

  "Yes. I promise." I threaded my fingers through his chocolate mane. "Mmm… That is the most beautiful sound. It makes me feel safe, cherished."

  "You are, mio tesoro.”

  "Tesoro?"

  His purr grew louder. "Literally, it means treasure. Figuratively, it means darling, honey… pet."

  "Pet. Lovely," I chortled.

  When he just growled in response, I chuckled and gently pushed at his shoulders, hopping out of the bed.

  I was surprised, yet unquestionably thrilled by how comfortable I felt with him in the face of the most unusual situation I’d ever found myself in, and with a wicked glance at my mate, I bent down to retrieve his shirt which had been discarded the night before. It was several sizes too big for me, but I slipped it on anyway.

  I grinned when his eyes took in my every move and slowly sashayed toward him, buttoning the material as I moved. I let my hands trail up his beautiful chest and wrapped my arms around his neck. "I'm okay, Simon," I whispered since he seemed very hesitant about leaving.

  His expression was so anxious; it seemed like he was fearful that some lifeline could be cut, that our bond could somehow be severed by distance, and I briefly wondered if it could, but doubted it. I’d have to ask later, but at the present, I had to urge him to go feed. I had the distinct feeling it would be much worse if he continued to put it off.