She touched my cheek, turning my face to hers. Her hand slid to the back of my neck as she brought me close to her lips again. "The power?"
"The power," I said, "My body. All of it." I kissed her, tongues dancing. I caught the edge of her bra and tugged on the lace material. "I want this."
I felt drunk and light-headed. Strangely, I didn't care.
I caught her bottom lip between my teeth and a growl slipped out of me. "Give it to me."
The fist she'd balled in my hair slid down my spine, cradling my ass. "Remember when we are done that you asked for this," she said, carrying me to the bedroom.
I kissed her neck, sucking at her skin like it was candy. I clawed at her bra with my bare hands, trying to pull it down under her glorious breasts.
She spilled me onto the bed.
The glow from the frosty gray lamp cast a soft light through the room. She stood at the edge of the bed, watching me with shadows in her eyes.
"I'm having déjà vu," I said. "This is the part where you warn me, right?"
Lenorre smiled and it was almost predatory. Her blouse was in disarray due to my fondling. It appeared a few buttons were missing. I didn't remember tearing any of them.
"I've already warned you. Many times now."
"Ah," I said, leaning back on my elbows. "Then this is the part where you take those clothes off and put your body against mine."
The energy level dropped to something bearable between us, but the promise of it was still there, along with a sure knowledge that all we had to do was touch to send it spiking again.
Lenorre put one of her knees on the bed, towering over me. "You do realize," she said, "that if I come to bed with you right now, I will bite."
I sat up, placing the tips of my fingers against the hollow of her throat. "Stop trying to give me a way out," I said, lowering my hand and tearing through her blouse with nothing but my own strength. The fabric tore and buttons gave with a hiss.
The white skin of Lenorre's torso seemed to glow against the tattered material.
I raised the strip of silken fabric and waved it like a flimsy flag. "Oops," I said, knowing the grin I gave her was an impish one.
She put her hand on the mattress as she began lowering herself. I rolled out from under her and to my hands and knees. Lenorre reached for me and I pushed off the mattress. The tips of her fingers breezed past the skin of my ankle as I flung myself over the edge of the bed. My left shoulder hit the wall with a heavy thud as I used it to catch myself.
"Kassandra? Are you all right?" she asked, voice sounding somewhat strangled. I sat back on my heels, peeking over the edge at her.
Lenorre lay on her side, as if she were lounging and hadn't made a hurried grab for me. One arm was stretched out loosely in front of her, the other propped against the mound of pillows. It took me a second to realize she was laughing.
"I thought vampires were quick?"
"On the contrary," she said, "most vampires are a bit lazy. We prefer to compel and seduce our prey willingly as opposed to hunting and subduing them by using sheer force."
"Are you implying sheer force is a wolf thing?"
"I might be," she said, managing to keep a cool façade.
I laughed, getting to my feet. "Just for that, I'm going to make you work harder for this."
"You think so, do you?"
"Yeah, I d-oof," the word was knocked out of me as my back hit the wall.
Lenorre smiled triumphantly, one hand planted on the wall near my face.
"That"-I pushed at her chest-"was not fair!"
She stood, unyielding as marble. She reached for my hand still holding the piece of her torn shirt and I shoved my hand behind me, trapping it between the wall and my body with a defiant look.
"You're not going to give it up, aye?" Her soft accented voice tickled my cheek.
"Not easily, no. Wait, did you just aye me?"
Lenorre grinned, her fingers moving down my body and hooking on my undergarments. She caught the top of the white lace underwear and tugged, jerking my body toward hers. The warm air kissed my bare skin.
Lenorre raised her hand between us, lace spilling from her fingertips. "Nay." She tossed the lace behind her with a flick of her wrist.
"But that was fair," she said, hands sliding across my hips.
She picked me up and I wrapped my legs around her, my arms going instinctively to her neck. She kept my back pressed against the wall and lowered me. I kept my fist tight around the material as she held me, using her strength to move my body against the front of her slacks. The material at the band of her waist was slightly elevated due to the clasps underneath and I moaned at the friction it caused.
"You like that?" Amusement and something close to surprise mingled in her voice. I licked the line of her neck, tasting her skin like fresh snow on my tongue, colder with the need to feed. I caught the edge of her ear between my teeth, growling lightly.
She laughed and murmured, "Answer enough," without losing the slow and steady rhythm she'd found, making our bodies dance like two waves.
I gave myself to her, feeling the muscles in her arms work to hold me, her lean height sheltering me as her hips moved to a sensuous song that only she could hear.
"Take your clothes off."
"On one condition," she said, securing me against her with an arm under my ass. I held on to the back of her neck, moving my hand with the piece of her blouse in it to the front of her shoulder. She touched the back of my hand with her free one. "Hold on to that, Kassandra."
I snaked my hand up into the curls of hair at the base of her skull, pulling her head down to mine. "This and more," I murmured, kissing her and catching her bottom lip between my teeth and nibbling.
Lenorre carried me, laying me back in the middle of her great bed. In her slacks and ruined shirt, she sat back on her heels. "You do understand what is going to transpire here, Kassandra?"
I reclined against the pillows. "Why do you keep trying to give me a way out?"
Something flashed in her eyes, some flickering thought that I didn't quite understand.
"Are you nervous?" I asked.
She let out a deep and unnecessary breath. "Nervous?" she asked, shaking her head lightly, making her tresses dance. "No, I am hesitant, though."
"Why?"
When she was silent, I touched her arm. "Lenorre, why are you hesitant? This is what you want, isn't it?"
"Yes, but is it what you want?"
It took me too long to form a reply, and before I could say anything, Lenorre made to rise.
"Your lack of a response is answer enough," she said. "I am pushing you."
I caught her wrist, stopping her from getting out of the bed.
"I'm scared, okay?"
At my confession, she didn't look surprised, but asked, "Why?"
I shut my eyes. "I don't know."
"Yes, you do. Why are you so scared of being bitten? I've bitten you before, Kassandra. You were not so scared and apprehensive then."
I sat back against the pillows, releasing her wrist. "The times you've bitten me, Lenorre, I wasn't exactly in my right mind. I was wolf-ridden the first time you did it, and I'm fairly certain the second time didn't necessarily count as a bite, considering where your mouth was. I don't know what to expect. Should I expect it to hurt? Am I going to come close to fainting like Rosalin did the time you bit her?"
The corner of her mouth raised in a seductive half-smile. "Will it make you more comfortable if we lay out some ground rules?"
I shrugged. "It couldn't hurt. For one, stop giving me a way out. I can only not-chicken-out so many times. Seriously."
"As you wish," she said. "And may I note that when I fed from Rosalin I was consumed entirely by blood lust. I am not consumed by it now, nor will I be unless I go far longer than any vampire should."
"So, you're not close to it?"
"I behaved myself in the bathroom, did I not?"
I nodded.
She pulled her he
els up under her, sitting back on them. "I am a Countess, Kassandra. I spent years learning to control my thirst and have acquired more control than most. I do need to feed, but I am not yet at that point where all of my senses will get swept away when I do. If we prolong this much longer, I will grow fatigued till I am nigh useless to you in the bedroom."
"I understand," I said. "Will it hurt?"
She looked a little surprised. "Will you give me permission to enchant you?"
I shook my head. "No." I remembered when she had enchanted Arthur once and the way his sight had glazed over like he had become an empty vessel for her power to command. "I need my control, Lenorre."
"Then it will hurt some."
"How much is some?" I asked.
The corner of her mouth twitched. "You are acting like a virgin about to be plucked on her wedding night."
I frowned at her. "Plucked," I said. "I think you mean pricked."
She leaned toward me, bringing her beautiful face close to mine. "Whichever," she said, trailing her nails down my stomach. "I will leave you your precious control." She kissed me gently, a brush of lips, before bending at the waist and kissing my breast. Her fingers swept across my nipple, making it stiffen. I sank back against the pillows, sighing at her touch. "As for this," she whispered against my skin, "this is mine."
She opened her mouth, sucking lightly. The tip of her tongue flicked against me and I moaned, touching her hair. She sucked harder, until I felt her fangs digging into me.
She bit down and I cried out at the fiery pain that shot down the front of my body. My fist cinched around the material as I tangled my fingers in her hair.
Lenorre looked up at me, her tongue following the crimson trail my blood had taken.
My heartbeat echoed between my legs.
"Dear Gods," I breathed. Lenorre laughed softly, raising my hand and placing a kiss against my knuckles. Gently, she used the loose hold her fingers had to turn and offer my wrist to her. She placed another small kiss against my skin, and this time, expecting to be bitten, I flinched.
But she didn't bite me. Instead, she traced the blue branch beneath my skin with the tip of her finger. "This is sacred, Kassandra.
It is not simply a matter of food. You will be sharing the source of your life with me. What stronger tie exists than this? 'Tis as strong a bond as the wedding of flesh."
When I didn't say anything, she cupped my hand in hers and placed her mouth against my skin, opening and sealing her lips over the pulse beating there. She watched me, as if she were securing her mouth over more intimate and darker things.
Lenorre bit me, not a bite meant to tantalize and tease, not a bite meant to control or distract me, but a bite meant to draw blood, a bite meant to feed. Her fangs pierced my skin like needles, hot, burning, sending fireworks of pain shooting up my arm, making my muscles dance in protest.
I forced myself not to fight or pull away.
She bit down a little bit harder, her fangs gliding through skin and superficial muscle, puncturing the artery in my wrist.
My heartbeat echoed down my arm, pushing my blood into her mouth.
A lot of movies make two major mistakes when depicting a vampire feeding. Yes, even in this modern day and age. The first mistake is showing that when a vampire bites, they just chomp down and go to town without releasing the wound. That is not true. Most vampires, in order to get a more effective feeding, unsheathe their fangs from the original wound. Their jaws are strong enough that if they do not release the wound, their fangs become stoppers, slowing the flow of blood despite the anticoagulant in their saliva.
Lenorre opened her mouth, slowly extracting her fangs from my skin. She caught the blood that threatened to spill over the edge of my wrist with her tongue, and sealed her mouth over the two dainty marks. Her tongue swept across my skin, over and over, as she licked the wounds. And though it was strangely sexual and intimate, I knew she did it because the Draculin, the anticoagulant in her saliva, would keep my blood flowing freely and my body from healing supernaturally quick.
The second mistake dear old Hollywood makes is by upping the gore factor of a vampire scene by showing more blood on the vampire than in the vampire. You know those scenes where there's an obscene amount of blood decorating a room? Unless a vampire is completely blinded by bloodlust and tearing arteries left and right, they're not going to let that much blood go to waste.
Lenorre certainly didn't. Cradling my wrist delicately to her mouth, she drank me. Her onyx lashes were long and feathery against her pale skin; her face was beautiful and serene, as she was lost in the moment.
This was indeed a sacred sharing. I felt it then, as I watched her. Her features were enveloped by a peaceful expression that made my heart light. Perhaps it was the effects of blood loss, but in that moment I felt I was beginning to better understand her nature and what exactly I'd been withholding.
As a lycanthrope, I didn't necessarily have to rely on anyone else for my survival but myself. Lenorre had to rely on someone. Every single night she woke, she had to rely on someone else to share their life with her to keep hers going.
When Lenorre drew away, she caught the last bit of blood that threatened to spill over before the wounds began healing. She raised her face to mine, her eyes shining with power like silver mist.
"Kassandra?" she said my name, reaching out to touch my cheek. "Why are you crying?"
I let go of the material still curled in my fist and used both hands to pull her to me.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm sorry I was being so selfish and afraid."
Lenorre laughed and her gaze was affectionate and sweet. "Well," she said lightly, almost teasingly, "now that we've overcome that hurdle…"
"I'll warn you, it's probably not the last."
"I don't expect it to be," she whispered the words against my mouth. "You sure you can handle the others?"
"I told you once, I am a patient woman."
"And if all else fails you'll resort to shoving my ass over the next one?" Lenorre leaned back, grinning deviously. "That is a thought, yes." I playfully tugged on a curl of her hair and tilted my head.
"Will you take your damn clothes off now?" I added, "Please?"
"For you to add the word please, you must be in dire need."
"Oh," I said, pulling at her torn blouse, "I'm positively aching." Lenorre removed her clothing and crawled back to me. She lay back on the pillows beside me, placing a hand on my ass. "Come here," she said. "Where's here?" I asked, rising to my knees. "Put your leg over me," she said. "You want me to straddle you?"
"Yes."
I flung a leg over her frame and began lowering myself.
Lenorre's hands moved to my hips. "Higher," she said, using her hands on my hips to encourage me to move up her body. "How high?" I whispered. One of Lenorre's dark brows arched beautifully. "I do believe you know what I am asking you to do."
I licked a wet line from her navel to her breasts. I slid my hands up her torso, cupping her breasts and lightly playing my nails across them.
"Tell me what you want."
"I want you to put your sex against my lips," she said. "I want to watch you writhe as I bring you."
I climbed her body, kissing her mouth, flicking my tongue against hers. I sat up, settling my knees to the side of her face, grabbing hold of the wooden beam at the head of the bed, and holding myself above her.
"All you had to do was ask."
Her hands moved up my thighs, squeezing my ass before she craned her neck and nestled her mouth between my legs. Her tongue found me, tracing the folds of me in a way that made my grip tighten on the smooth wooden beam. Lenorre licked me, a slow, broad stroke of her tongue that began at my entrance and ended with a suck at my clit. She found a rhythm, her velvet tongue tracing and enticing the slit between my legs, sealing over my clit and sending sparks of pleasure down to my toes. I threw my head back, riding the sweet waves.
CHAPTER sixteen
stood in a house similar
to that of the victim's. I was looking at the same white covered bed. There were symbols on the walls. I was trying to figure out what each symbol meant, but they kept moving, changing. The lines flowed on the wall above the headboard like a kaleidoscope, making me dizzy. Lenorre entered the room, her long hair free and unbound. She came to me, wearing a thin dress of black silk. Her cool fingers cupped my face in her hands. She said my name and lowered her head to kiss me.
The kiss began as something gentle and slow. Her hands moved on my body, tracing every curve hidden beneath my clothing.
Somewhere during the kiss, I remembered what I had been doing before she entered the room. I tried to draw away from her and her arms tightened around me. I tried to break the kiss and she pressed into it, kissing me more roughly than she ever had.
Her power became something thick in the air, too thick and heavy for me to draw a breath. I pushed at her chest. She wouldn't budge.
Lenorre tangled her hand in my hair, jerking her grip tight. I continued to struggle, to try to break away from her. I stopped struggling when I felt the points of very sharp nails against the back of my scalp.
No, not nails… Claws.
Finally, she broke the kiss, laughing.
The expression on her face frightened me. Whatever it was, whoever it was, was not Lenorre.
I tried to speak, to command it to stop, but I couldn't. I was too aware. Every small movement that Lenorre made in the dream echoed through me. Every tiny brush of flesh seemed to be magnified, singing through my veins, making my skin twitch and ache to be touched. She kissed me again and this time, I wanted her to do it. I didn't fight. I couldn't. I burned too hot. I threw myself into the flame of her power, hungry for it.
The thing that was not Lenorre rose above me, her nude body sliding across mine, and I couldn't remember when or how the dream had shifted. She rolled her hips across mine and the sensation of her wet, hot flesh against me sent my head back, my spine arching.
She caught the underside of my thighs and pushed my knees up, rubbing her body against mine. Her hands and body were slick, too slick.
I felt something wet, like water. It dripped onto the skin above my navel. I moved, trying to sit up. Lenorre put a hand on my chest, and, as if she were commanding my body, I froze.
[Kassandra Lyall Preternatural Investigator 03] - Bloody Claws Page 12