Bound By Blood

by Kimberly Hoyt

  The state of the room paused her before she ever made it to the hallway. A tingle raced up her spine seeing the scattered clothes and towels on the floor. Her panties hung half off the edge of the bed.

  For an odd moment, Laurel felt like she'd desecrated Sebastian's space. It almost seemed like she was having an affair with some other man in his domain, which was a disconcerting thought. They were the same man, she reminded herself, and picked up the articles of clothing from the floor. She wouldn't rest until everything was back in place and the bedroom was as clean as the bathroom. Disturbed by the notion that she'd cheated on Sebastian, she padded barefoot up the hallway to the main level of the house. She searched the parlor and his office with no luck.

  "Sebastian?"

  "Here, my lady," he called, striding from the pool room.

  He looked…a little drunk. Laurel noted the tumbler in his hand and his naked chest at the same time. A sleek brow arched at the fit of the jeans he'd donned, a smile taking hold of her mouth.

  "What're you doing, honey? Did you go for a swim? How much have you had to drink?" she asked.

  "God, woman, cease your nagging and tell me what kind of torture device this is," he answered, swinging a gesture with his glass back toward the pool.

  "Excuse me, I do not nag!" she said, indignant. He looked rakish, hair finger-tousled over his forehead. Irresistible.

  Sebastian finished the contents of the glass and negligently tossed it aside; it broke against the wall and shattered.

  Shocked-- that was something the other Sebastian would never do--she glanced from the raining shards to his face. He closed the distance and snagged her around the waist, pulling her up against him, giving her no time to sass him before he kissed her.

  It was the hungry kiss of a man who'd had a taste of something he liked and wanted more of. Insistent, demanding, deep. Laurel, powerless to deny him, skimmed her hands up his arms and around his neck.

  "Mm," he said, surfacing for air a few minutes later. "Swim, did you say? In that poisoned water?"

  Held against his body, still sleep rumpled and soft, she frowned. "Poisoned water? Oh, those are chemicals to keep it fresh."

  He didn't seem to be listening. Kissing her again, he turned to press and pin her against the wall well away from the broken glass. His hands were all over her, kneading and rubbing. Laurel found she didn't have the will to resist him. Not when he was so male, half naked and hard, wanting her.

  Right there in the hall, where God and anyone else might see them, he took her with unapologetic, feverish urgency. Dress around her hips, jeans around his ankles, she left furrows on his back and he added more marks to her hips. The sound of slapping skin echoed as loud as their moans and passionate gasps. For every new bruise on her hips, Laurel left furrows of red down his back with her nails. He kissed her as possessively as he loved her, like he might swallow her soul, pounding and thrusting and grinding until she came undone in his arms. She cried his name at the pinnacle and he snarled his way into a heavy climax, dragging his hot mouth along her throat, teeth nipping at her shoulder.

  "Laurel," he whispered.

  "Sebastian," she said, tangling his name around her own. Tacked against the wall by his hips, she dusted little kisses along his jaw. She was positive that any second, Bernard or Sara or Caleb was going to wander onto the scene.

  What the devil was wrong with her that she couldn't keep her hands off him?

  "Your dress is…fetching," he said near her ear.

  She smiled, cheek pressed against his, and grazed her teeth over the pulse in his neck. The steady blip reminded her that he wouldn't have it much longer. "I'm glad you like it. This is a dress I would wear in public," she said, wondering if he would start calling her 'woman' again and order her around. The baby doll was certainly more revealing than clothes in his time had been but was rather modest for modern America.

  Sebastian drew his head back, brow lined with sweat, and stared down at her with stubborn amusement. "I think not, my lady. What has the world come to? Women walking around in indecent clothing…"

  Laurel laughed, raking back a shank of dark hair from his temple. "Indecent is when women wear necklines so low that their nipples threaten to pop out of the dress," she argued, reminding him of some of the gowns from 'his' time.

  He ground his hips against her like he was making a statement, and finally, gently, withdrew. "Either way, my lady, you will not be wearing this dress in public," he said, pressing his point home.

  "We'll see," she said, laughing when he arched a brow. Getting her feet on the floor, she smoothed the dress over her hips and stepped away from the wall. Feeling a strange pang over an emotion she couldn't name, she eyed the way his hair fell across his brow and his lazy, sated smile. This wasn't the kind of impulsive action she could see her and the other Sebastian having, but she couldn't regret or deny the magnetic draw that kept bringing them together like this.

  "I'm starving. Bernard?" Laurel didn't think the servant would be too far away, especially after…that.

  Sebastian tugged his jeans up but left the top button undone. He seemed careless that they'd just had sex in the hallway.

  Bernard appeared around a corner, unruffled.

  "Madam, my Lord," he said.

  "Bernard, my lady wishes breakfast," Sebastian said with authority, like he was used to giving Bernard orders.

  "Presently, my Lord. About the other matter, I am still making inquiries," Bernard said and turned to disappear down the hallway.

  Laurel smiled at Bernard before he left. She refused to think about the consequences of bringing Sebastian back too early. Before fear or melancholy could get a foothold, she let the Duke of Darkthorne gather her hand in his and escort her into the dining room.

  "I discovered what must be my office," Sebastian said. "There is a black box on the top. What is that?"

  Laurel sat in the chair he pulled out for her, murmuring her thanks. "Oh, that's a laptop. It's…well I'll show you after lunch, how's that? I want to show you a car, too, and a television."

  He sat at the head of the table with a perplexed look on his face. Sunlight streamed in the window, bathing him in a soft glow.

  Laurel was stricken just then by how different he looked from the Sebastian she'd met in the graveyard. Bare chest, casual jeans, a shadow of whiskers over his jaw. The Prince would never be able to dine as they were dining now, basking in the sunlight about to eat food. A knot tangled itself in the back of her throat and she had trouble swallowing it down. This Sebastian didn't realize how drastically his life was going to change. Had no idea he would become a Prince of vampires.

  Or would have, if she hadn't blundered the whole thing. Pushing those negative thoughts away once more, she forced a smile.

  "What is a car?" he said, frowning.

  Over lunch, Laurel explained modern technology. He listened with an avid expression and asked many questions, some of which amused her. The topics they discussed were wide and varied and he showed an unusual propensity to accept that which he didn't exactly understand.

  He might have been shocked and overwhelmed, but already he was acclimating, learning. It seemed that if he had to stay here in this time, he was determined to make the best of it.

  When they were done eating, Laurel showed him the laptop, which he marveled over, and then drug him up to her room when an epiphany struck. From one of her dresser drawers, she pulled three photographs of them together in New York near the enormous tree.

  His expression while he examined them was too complicated to decipher. He frowned, looking at them for a long time, as if trying to judge the man he'd been--or would become--in later years.

  "This is Christmastide?" he asked.

  "Yes. In New York. You surprised me with a trip there."

  He grunted. "I am pleased to know I treat you well. What did I gift you with?"

  Laurel pulled out a velvet box from the same drawer and took out the expensive diamond necklace and bracelets. "These
. And a huge shopping spree, a laptop of my own, a new camera. Tons of stuff."

  He smiled, listening, and seemed reluctant to set the photos aside. Putting them on her dresser, he examined the necklace. "I would like a portrait of you in these," he said. "Only these."

  She arched a brow, intrigued. "Okay. I'll have to show you how to work the camera. It's not hard," she said, and stripped the red dress up over her head. Naked beneath, she presented her back so he could put the necklace on. She saw desire flicker through his eyes and shivered when he hovered so close behind her, fingers brushing her skin while he did the clasp.

  Her lesson in photography was brief but sufficient, and Sebastian proved to be a quick learner. Timid at first while he got used to the device, she posed on the edge of the bed. The poses became more sensual as they went, felt more natural under his hot-eyed scrutiny. She lounged back, long and graceful, flirting with her eyes and her half smiles. The diamonds glittered on her skin, draping across her collarbones and over her wrists. It was the first time she'd ever posed nude for anyone, much less a man like Sebastian. Rolling onto her stomach, she dangled her feet in the air, ankles crossed, hair a disheveled mess around her face.

  He seemed to enjoy the process immensely, a muscle flexing in his jaw, low sounds of appreciation breaking the silence several times. Laurel felt desire stretching taut between them, again, even though he'd just had her an hour ago. Their eye contact was hot, poignant. Without warning, he set the camera aside and stalked to the bed, shucking his jeans on the way. Crawling onto the mattress, he drug his mouth up her spine and nipped the back of her shoulder, covering her body with his own. He pressed her down, trapping her beneath him, and slipped his fingers between her hip and the bed.

  She shuddered at his breath in her ear and whispered fervent words of worship while he skillfully brought her to the edge of ecstasy. He took her again, dark and intent, until her whispers turned into hoarse cries and a plea for release. Sebastian gave it to her, timing it with his, riding out the aftershocks in pleasant waves of heat and languor.

  Drugged in the wake of their passion, she relaxed against the bed while he withdrew and stretched out next to her, one arm looped over her back.

  "Sweetheart," he said, barely above a whisper. His accent erased the 'r', so that it sounded like sweethot.

  She smiled and kissed the cleft in his chin, liking the sound of it on his lips. He slipped into sleep and she watched him, tracing her fingertips over the round of his shoulder, the swell of a bicep. He knew her so much more intimately than Sebastian did.

  Laurel caught herself mid-thought. Thorn or Sebastian, Prince or Duke, he was still the same man. Why then, did she feel such an acute sense of guilt? She still felt like she was cheating on Sebastian to a degree, and she had small bouts of anxiety in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

  It was absurd.

  Disquieted, she slipped out of his embrace when she was sure he was asleep and went to take a bath. Soaking in steamy water, she grew maudlin about the circumstances and worried herself sick over what the outcome would eventually be. She simply couldn't fathom that she'd lost Sebastian the Prince forever. Laurel missed his calm strength, his sense of power. Mortal Sebastian wore that mantle differently than vampire Sebastian did, although both men had their talents and skills.

  Leaving the bath when her skin started to wrinkle, she dried off and changed into a simple shift of navy blue with a light floral pattern stamped on the skirt. Her heart lurched when she walked into the bedroom to see him sprawled there, vulnerable in sleep, dark hair skewed across his brow.

  Inspired, she snagged the camera and took several pictures of him. These might be the only photos she would ever have of him in the sun. She took advantage of the opportunity, snapping a few more at different angles, never compromising his nudity for the sake of posterity.

  Curling up in a chair, she turned the TV on and muted the sound. Even Jurassic Park couldn't completely take her attention away from the man on the bed. She watched, shameless, until he woke up a short time later.

  "Sweethot--there you are," he said, squinting against the brightness of an afternoon sun.

  She smiled, threading fingers through her hair to help work out the tangles. "Afternoon. Sleep well?"

  He stretched, languid as a cat, muscles sleek beneath his skin. "Mm, very well. You should--" The television stalled his comment. He rolled over and sat up, staring at the vivid images on the screen.

  Fascinated as he discovered more modern technology, Laurel watched his expressions move from confusion to awe to intrigue. "Moving pictures. How does that happen?"

  "It's very technical and hard to explain, but they use computers like the one you saw downstairs for most of the special effects. You can get news on here and the history channel. There are other movies, too, about war and romance and all kinds of things." Laurel tried to encompass the important parts without overwhelming him more than he already was.

  He stood up and moved a few steps closer to the television. "Show me the war." Halfway between the bed and the flatscreen he stopped and crossed his arms over his chest, feet spread apart for balance. Without a stitch of clothing, he nevertheless looked imposing, like a warrior or a general strategizing his next move in battle.

  While he stared at the flickering images, Laurel stared at him. He seemed immune to the fact he was stark naked. Her gaze traveled over his thick thighs, powerful hips, and the cut muscles of his lean stomach.

  "What?" Had he said something?

  Sebastian glanced over. A slow grin curved his mouth, like he knew her thoughts, and he repeated himself. "I said I would like to see war in this era."

  Laurel yanked her gaze upward. "Oh, right. Here, use this. It's called a remote. All you have to do is aim it at the screen and press the up and down arrows." She stood up and walked the remote to him, squeaking in surprise when he snaked an arm around her hips and drug her against him for a kiss.

  "You smell good," he said, taking the remote. He pressed the button and the screen flipped to another movie, lacking war scenes but no less fascinating by the look on his face.

  "Thank you." She stroked her palm over his stomach, eliciting a grunt from him, and sat on the edge of the bed to watch.

  He scanned past a few other shows and landed on another movie: Pearl Harbor. "God above, what are those things?" he asked as a plane flew by on the screen.

  "That's war in our time. Well, back in nineteen forty-one." She could see the side of his face and the frown he wore when explosions burst red and orange from the ships below. Filling him in on a bit of American history, she drew a leg up onto the bed and looped her arms around her knee. "You own a plane, but it's much sleeker and faster than those."

  "I own one of these?" he asked, gesturing with the remote. He seemed like he was still trying to wrap his mind around the mechanics of the movie itself.

  "Yes. You have many businesses in this time and are very successful."

  He smiled like he was satisfied to hear it. When curiosity got the better of him, he switched a few more channels, running across cartoons and a football game, which she also explained. The images blurred past another several stations and landed, unfortunately, on an adult channel. Crude language filled the room while actors depicted a raunchy sex scene that made Sebastian go still with shock. The remote landed with a thud on the floor. Between gasps and fake moans, the harsh sound of slapping skin was unmistakable. The man had the woman by the hair, yanking her head back while he took her over a desk.

  Laughter spilled out between the fingers that covered Laurel's gaping mouth. In a sudden fit of hilarity, she howled.

  "God save me," Sebastian said.

  Amused beyond good reason, Laurel cracked up. She couldn't catch her breath to form a coherent reply. Despite her humor, she was blushing.

  He twisted his shoulders around and glared at her. "Woman."

  It took her a moment to realize he looked angry. The laughter cut off like someone had flipped a switch
. "What?" Round eyed, she tried to tune out the carnal sounds from the television.

  Sebastian scowled. "Avert your eyes!"

  She twitched at the thunderous command. All her humor fled. "Why are you angry at me? It's not like I haven't seen it before. Not that I watch it all the tim--"

  "Christ's bones, woman, you will obey me." He growled the order and turned around, blocking the TV from her view.

  She couldn't appreciate how magnificent he looked just then, hair skewed across his brow, blue eyes glittering, broad chest swelling with indignation. Her modern mind balked at the word obey, the hair going up on the back of her neck.

  "I will not obey you, Sebastian Xavier Thorn, and if I want to watch it, I will. I notice you didn't avert your eyes right away!" In a full-blown snit, she pretended to lean around him to see the action on the screen.

  Fury lit his features and darkened his eyes. Whirling, he took a step back toward the television, bringing his fists up to pound them into the screen. The TV crashed against the wall, sparks flying, the images wiped out when it all went black. A sound like a growl rolled up Sebastian's throat and he glared at her while he stalked out the door, bellowing for his servant. "BERNARD!"

  Palms against her red cheeks, stunned into utter silence, Laurel sat there still as a statue. She couldn't believe he'd smashed the TV. And for what? Because she hadn't obeyed? Breaking her stupor, she lurched off the bed and stalked out of the room after him, bare feet slapping against the marble floor.

  "Don't you dare walk away from me, Sebastian! That was not necessary and I want an explanation!"

  He was already downstairs, confronting a stoic faced but obviously shocked Bernard in the hallway. "Clothes, now, and tell the master of the horse I want a carriage readied." Sebastian cut a hot glare at her when she trotted down the staircase and stalked away, spine stiff with tension.

  Had the situation been any different, she might have laughed at his order for the master of the horse. He was so mad he'd forgotten what time he was in. But the situation had lost all amusement for her when he'd started ordering her around. He walked away and she followed, fully intending to press her point home. "Sebastian!"