The Last Vampire- Complete series Box Set

by R. A. Steffan

  He huffed, ducking his head again.

  “Seriously, though,” I continued. “What were we supposed to do? Wrap Guthrie up with a bow and hand him over to Nigellus to tap on demand like a vampire-blood kegger party?”

  A haunted look sculled across his features. “It might have kept you safer if I had.”

  I grabbed his elbow. “Hey. No,” I said, my temper flaring. “I won’t ever be your excuse for screwing over the other people in your life who are important to you. Besides, that’s my grandfather you’re talking about... even if he probably wishes right now that he’d never met me.”

  Rans’ spine curled until his forehead rested against mine. After the space of a few heartbeats, though, he straightened. “The point is, love—this is looking more and more like a no-win scenario. The only potential way out I can see right now is calling up Nigellus and throwing myself on his mercy—agreeing to let him take both of us to Hell and offering my blood in exchange for his protection against Myrial.”

  My throat tightened and ached. I shook my head vehemently, ignoring the treacherous little voice that said maybe we could all be safe in Hell together—him and Guthrie and my father and me—a happy little family sheltered from the threat of the Fae.

  But it wasn’t that simple. Nothing ever was.

  “You can’t,” I said. “Guthrie won’t agree to go to Hell, no matter what, and if Nigellus has you at his beck and call, he doesn’t need a second vampire. Myrial will either try to reap his soul again, or come up with some other use for him that’s even worse.”

  “Believe me,” Rans murmured. “I’m painfully aware.”

  “Are you? Because you’re still tearing yourself up over this,” I told him, keeping my voice calm and non-judgmental. “You’ve been running basically non-stop for the better part of a week. No offense, but you need to let all of this shit go for a bit.”

  He pushed away from the wall, his arms falling to his sides. “Easier said than done, love.”

  I took a cleansing breath. “I know. And I have an idea about that, but you’re going to have to trust me. First, though, tell it to me straight. Are we safe for now? Can we just... rest for a day or two?”

  His lips flattened. “We’re as protected as we can be from Myrial and Nigellus, out here surrounded by saltwater. It will either be enough to discourage them from coming for us, or it won’t. There’s not much we can do about it either way.”

  “And the Fae?” I prompted.

  “I don’t see how they could track us here so quickly. There isn’t enough of a trail for them to follow.”

  I nodded, satisfied. “Okay, that’s kind of what I figured. So basically, you’re telling me that there’s no objective benefit to you continuing to fret like an overprotective mother hen. We’ll be in exactly the same amount of danger if you’re asleep for the next ten hours as we would be if you were awake and pacing a hole into the deck.”

  The look he shot me was mildly irked. “Sleep? Again, love—easier said than done.”

  “Oh, ye of little faith,” I quipped. When he looked blank, I gestured to my left with both hands, like Vanna White unveiling a prize. “See, this is how I know you’re running on empty. You’ve just backed a succubus up against the wall of an adult toy store, and you haven’t even made a joke about it yet.”

  He followed my gesture to the sign lit up with flowing script—Carnal Desires. Then he let out a helpless snort of real amusement, lightening the weight in my chest.

  “Unfortunately, my sixth sense only extends to warm-blooded pulses and supernatural auras,” he said. “I have to rely on you to sniff out sex toy shops.”

  I grabbed him by the hand and tugged him toward the entrance. “Come on. I intend to buy something that will knock every single thought out of your head for a few hours, and I think I know just the thing. In fact, you promised not so long ago that you’d help me pick out the right one.”

  He raised an eyebrow, only to lower it tolerantly as the relevant memory visibly recalled itself. “Ah. Yes. So I did. Well, come along, then. A promise is a promise, and never let it be said I’m not prepared to take my payback like a man.”

  TWELVE

  SUCH AS IT WAS, my knowledge of strap-on dildos came entirely from the pages of erotic romance novels. For this reason, it was probably just as well that I had Rans to offer real-world strap-on buying guidance.

  As a side note, I found it mildly interesting that while Carnal Desires kept them hidden in the back, they also had a surprisingly eclectic selection. I took this to mean that the good ol’ boys club contained a fair number of men who appreciated getting their asses reamed by hot women, even if they didn’t necessarily want it known that they appreciated it.

  At any rate, the ‘right’ strap-on—according to Rans—was a three-strap model with a built-in bullet vibrator nestled in the g-string-shaped cup of material that would go between my legs.

  “You can thank me later,” he said, once the paper-wrapped package was paid for and deposited in an unmarked plastic bag along with a bottle of appropriate lube.

  The dildo itself was roughly the size of an average human cock. It snapped into the receiving ring on the harness, held in place by its flared base. It was more or less realistic in terms of color and shape, though it did have enough of a curve at the tip to proclaim its usefulness as a prostate toy.

  I just hoped my instincts about this whole thing were on-point. Otherwise, this evening was going to end up being, shall we say... a bit awkward. It was fairly clear to me that Rans was humoring my little venture, more than anything. Not that he had anything against me plowing him into the mattress with a fake dick; it was just that his mind was still firmly elsewhere.

  And therein lay the rub. He and I had decidedly different expectations of what was going to happen once we got back to our suite. And while I’d been relieved to discover that prying into his emotional state earlier had resulted in a frank conversation rather than a relationship minefield, I still wasn’t one-hundred percent sure that I’d earned the right to ask of him what I was about to ask of him.

  Because... centuries-old vampire.

  Twenty-six-year-old ex-waitress.

  To say that there was something of an inherent power imbalance in our relationship was an understatement.

  The door to the stateroom closed and locked behind us; Rans tossed his designer suit jacket carelessly over the back of a chair. A moment later, he was relieving me of the bag containing my recent purchase, which landed on the plush mattress with a bounce. Then I was in his arms, and his mouth was slanting across mine, his lips seeking the best angle.

  And... yup. The practiced seduction was exactly what I’d expected from him after our little talk. It was not, however, what I was after tonight.

  Here goes nothing, I thought, and pulled back enough so I could lift a finger to his lips, barring them from returning to mine.

  “I think we’re having two different conversations here, lover,” I told him gently. “And I want us to be on the same page tonight.”

  A faint look of confusion furrowed his brow before he consciously smoothed his expression and pressed a kiss to my fingertip. “I wasn’t aware that conversation was on the evening’s itinerary,” he murmured against my skin.

  “I think it needs to be, though,” I said.

  He backed off, though his hands still cupped my shoulders. “All right. Converse away.”

  I took a steadying breath, aware that as a rule, I wasn’t at my most clear-headed when I was surrounded by his scent and the reassuring caress of his supernatural aura.

  “You’re doing that thing you always do,” I explained. “And that’s not what I want tonight to be about.”

  The furrow of confusion returned. “That... thing I do?” he echoed.

  I nodded. “Yes. The thing where you play to my fantasies, and make sex into a performance that you think I’ll enjoy.”

  The confusion deepened into a frown. “I assure you, love—I derive rather a lot
of enjoyment from it, too. Have I not been making that sufficiently clear?”

  I cupped his jaw, stroking a thumb across his stubble. “I’m not arguing the point. Just observing that I don’t think it’s really what you need tonight.” I paused. Swallowed. “We’ve never really talked about it in depth, but I figured out early on that part of what you were getting from our... relationship... was a way to turn off your brain for a bit. As a succubus, I could do that for you in a way that normal humans couldn’t.”

  For a long time, I’d told myself that my animus-sucking ability was the main reason Rans bothered to stick around rather than leaving me to my fate. I was a convenient way for him to forget his worries for a few hours by being drained sexually to the point of exhaustion, or—on a couple of memorable occasions—unconsciousness.

  At the time, I hadn’t been able to imagine any other reason why my emotionally stunted and thoroughly ordinary self might be appealing to someone like him. Hell—if I were being honest, I still struggled to understand what he saw in me. But at least now, I’d accepted that he must see something.

  Evidently, I’d surprised him with my words. In fact, I’d surprised him speechless, which might have been a first in our relationship.

  Eventually, he managed to drag some words together. “Zorah... I... won’t deny the appeal of dulling the edges now and again. My mind can be a very loud place sometimes, and as a vampire, the options for quieting it are fairly limited unless I want to hunt down an endless supply of junkies to drink from.”

  I dredged up a smile for him, still stroking his cheek. “Yeah... best not. Sounds ethically ambiguous.”

  He didn’t smile back. “But I hope I haven’t given the impression that I’m using you as a way to... what? Self-medicate?”

  I shook my head. “That’s not what I’m saying. Besides, in the beginning, the ‘using’ was much more on my side than yours. I was literally feeding from you, after all. If anything, I was just relieved that there seemed to be something in it for you, too.”

  “There were many things in it for me. There still are.”

  My heart gave an unexpected little thud-thud, fluttering against the wall of my chest.

  “I know you don’t need me to keep from starving anymore, love,” he went on. “But I want to be very clear about this—I gained satisfaction from the knowledge that I was providing what you needed, completely apart from any psychological benefit I enjoyed by having my brain turned off for a bit by mind-blowing demon sex.”

  I saw an opening and seized it, pushing past the warm feeling growing inside me. “That means a lot to me. It truly does. But, with that being said, surely you can understand that I also crave the satisfaction of giving you what you need—tonight, or any other night, really.”

  He lifted a hand from my shoulder to brush the backs of his knuckles over the side of my face, tracing my temple, cheekbone, and jaw. “I suppose I can, yes. But... I don’t believe tonight is a good night for that. Just because we’ve done all we can do to keep ourselves safe doesn’t mean that nothing will happen. I can’t in good conscience let myself end up incapacitated and too weak to respond, in case Myrial or Nigellus make a move despite the miles of ocean surrounding us. For that reason, I shouldn’t let you feed on me to the point of uselessness.”

  I stepped closer and let my thumb drag over his full lower lip. “Actually, that wasn’t what I was proposing.”

  His nostrils flared at the possessive nature of my gesture. “Wasn’t it, though?”

  “No, it wasn’t,” I confirmed, drawing my spine straight and my shoulders square with a confidence I wasn’t sure I really felt. “What if I could fuck you into that state without feeding from you?”

  A touch of humor lit his summer-sky gaze, but it was wry. “Many have tried, love.”

  “Well,” I said lightly, throwing words he’d once said to me back at him, “you know what they say. The more stubborn the sub, the harder they eventually drop.” I slid my thumb past the softness of his lips, and he allowed the gesture with his usual good grace. “I’m going to take care of you tonight, Ransley Thorpe. And I’m going to take you to pieces until you can’t even remember your own name... unless you look me in the eye and tell me to stop.”

  Rans let my thumb slide free of his decadent mouth with a wet pop. “Well—you can certainly try,” he said. The words weren’t a scoff, or even a challenge. They were the words of someone who simply didn’t think what I’d proposed was possible... and maybe the words of someone who wished that it were.

  “I get it,” I told him. “You’ve played sex as a game so often that it’s second nature. You can play the role of the sub, but for you, it’s a performance more than anything. You don’t mind doing it. You don’t resent it. But it doesn’t really worm through your defenses and touch you. Not in here.” I tapped his temple. “And not in here.” My hand moved downward, splaying over his chest.

  He covered it with his. “Nothing much going on in there since the thirteen-hundreds, I’m afraid.”

  “That’s bull and you know it,” I retorted without hesitation. “This heart might not beat, but you can’t tell me it doesn’t feel. I know better.”

  “No,” he said quietly. “You’re right. I can’t tell you that.”

  I slid my hand out from under his and returned it to his cheek. “All I ask tonight is that you don’t fight me. You’ve let me shackle you. Hurt you. Put you on display for strangers. But you’ve never let any of it reach beyond your skin. And I’m not interested in your pain, or your humiliation. I don’t want your performance. I just want you to hand me the reins for an hour or two, and feel what I’m doing to you. Really feel it. Will you give me that?”

  He drew me in for a kiss—a bare brush of lips on lips. “I’ll always give you anything within my power, love.”

  It was almost an answer. Here and now, it would have to do.

  “Then turn around and put your hands on the wall,” I said, using the voice of someone who actually knew what they were doing. “I’m getting some of these clothes off, because as nice as they look now, they’d look even nicer in a messy pile on the floor.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and I didn’t call him on the hint of irony coloring his tone.

  He complied as he said it, after all. And there was no reason in the three realms why he should have faith in my ability to deliver on what I’d just promised him. I’d have to earn his surrender, if I could—just as he’d earned mine in the past.

  But first...

  “One more thing. I need your promise that you will actually stop me if you need to. And in return, I promise not to drain your animus to any significant degree. Though I reserve the right to... play with it a bit, let’s say.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, shooting me a look through his messy fringe. “Believe me, love. Needing to stop won’t be an issue.”

  That one, I couldn’t let him get away with. “Doesn’t matter. I still want your word.”

  He didn’t roll his eyes at me, but it was a close-run thing. “Very well. You have my word that I’ll be a fine, upstanding submissive who uses his safeword when required.”

  “And you called me a bratty sub,” I murmured.

  “You are a bratty sub. It’s rather charming, really.”

  I ignored him in favor of untying the knot at the top of his vest’s corset lacing. The silken laces whispered through the metal grommets on either edge of the panels. I was mildly fascinated by the article of clothing, with its elegantly curved steel boning accentuating the sweep of Rans’ back. My fingers moved down a fraction, and another crisscross of lacing pulled free with a barely audible sussuration.

  “That’s going to be hell to re-lace,” Rans observed mildly.

  Another length slid free... and another. “And your point is...?”

  “It does have busks at the front. That’s all I’m saying.” I could hear the hint of amusement now.

  “And your point is?” I repeated.

  “Not
a thing, love. Don’t mind me.” This time, the amusement was unmistakable. And I was fine with that. It was a lot better than the edgy darkness that had been surrounding him since we’d found Guthrie collapsed in his bedroom.

  I continued down the length of his back, fully immersed in the sensuality of the laces sliding through their tiny, symmetrical rings. My fingers trailed over the soft material of his shirt as more and more of it was exposed to my gaze. The final pair of grommets sat teasingly low on the small of his back, barely above his tailbone. My touch lingered there before I hooked the center of the lace and slipped the undone length free, letting it slither to the floor.

  “Off,” I ordered, and Rans lowered his arms from their braced position long enough to allow the unlaced waistcoat to slide free.

  The soft shirt fabric that had teased my fingertips was too tempting to resist. With the vest’s stiff boning out of my way, I pressed my body full-length against Rans’ back, my cheek resting below the nape of his neck. He held himself very still beneath my touch, his hands once more splayed against the wall in front of us.

  “I love you,” I murmured against him, my hands sliding around to toy with the topmost of the tiny, mother-of-pearl buttons on his shirt. The faintest of shivers marred his perfect stillness. But when he drew breath to speak, I shushed him. “Shh. I know.”

  A moment passed, and some of the tension bled out of his body along with the unneeded air. I got started on the buttons, fumbling for a moment as my brain navigated the fact that they were backwards compared to the buttons on a women’s shirt. Before long, my fingers got the hang of it and the shirt opened beneath my touch, gaping when I pulled the shirttails free and finished the last button.

  “That’s better,” I said, sliding my palms over hard planes of flesh, cool to the touch.

  “It’s a start,” he agreed, rallying. “Perhaps you’d care to—”

  Whatever I might care to do was cut off abruptly when my hands slid lower, cupping him through the fine wool of his tailored trousers.

  “You were saying?” I teased.