Those Whose Hearts

by Jackie Ivie

  “Oh, Simone. I am so very close to failing again. And powerless to stop any of it! While you...? Alas. You are French. And immune.”

  Immune? Where in the heck was he looking? Was he blind?

  “Reynaldo?”

  “Si?”

  “Mom was French. My dad was from Albany.”

  “The States?”

  “Yep. Reynaldo, look at me.”

  “Forgive me, but I do not dare.”

  He followed that declaration with a head shake. Blond hair trailed the motion. The cover fell. Only he rolled with it. Reynaldo had a very well-defined butt. That was no surprise. It matched the rest of him. His backside was a nice view. His shaking was rocking the bed. Simone released the cover and shimmied down to lie beside him. Looked up at his face. Sighed appreciatively again.

  From any angle the guy was absolutely gorgeous.

  “Simone. Please. This is...dangerous. I don’t think you understand how dangerous.”

  “I’m…not immune,” she told him.

  “Simone! Please. I cannot keep from you.”

  “I think you’re doing a pretty good job right now.”

  He tightened his hands to fists, turned his head away, and with spoke with a raw tone she couldn’t peg. “I am begging here!”

  “How about...if I start things?”

  Simone pulled a hand from beneath the covers and extended her index finger. Then she started moving it toward him. He turned back to her and now looked from her finger back to her eyes.

  “If you touch me,” he paused for a long moment before finishing, “...all will be lost.”

  Simone snorted. He should probably be on a stage with this level of melodrama. “All?” she queried.

  “You will get bitten!”

  “Really? By what?”

  “Me!”

  “You?”

  “I am a vampire!”

  He announced it as if it was true. Angrily. Loudly. Simone had been off on his earlier shaking. What he was doing now broke one of the bed posts. She watched it split. Heard the wood groan. And then the bed tilted, rolling her right into him. He responded with a lurch from her. Simone considered his backside some more. It was still a fantastic view. So. She’d seen his teeth. This declaration wasn’t really a surprise. And it fit the insane dream she was locked in.

  Either that...or he was crazy.

  Or maybe she was.

  “Vampires don’t exist, Reynaldo,” she informed him.

  He turned his head and snarled at her, lifting his upper lip.

  And...wow!

  He had an impressive set of fangs. They looked pretty realistic, too. And really sexy. A wave of desire washed over her, tsunami deep. Oceans wide. She writhed snakelike beside him. Her lips opened to gain air.

  “Oh. Reynaldo. Wow. Just...wow. Those are impressive...um. Fangs. But vampires still don’t exist. They’re medically, chemically, and physically impossible.”

  He pushed up, shoved his head back, and yelled. Long and loud. It was a really theatrical move. And pretty damned cool. Goosebumps erupted all over her while the sound echoed and re-echoed through the room. And then he turned his head, looked at her...

  And pounced.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Reynaldo would have had her throat if Simone didn’t beat him to it. And she didn’t even know what she was doing. Nor could she guess where her strength and agility derived. But without a hint of hesitation she pushed his chin up with a hand, revealing his neck, and a moment later she bit into him. Latched on. And then sucked.

  Without one thought as to why.

  Or even how.

  Reynaldo lifted his jaw for her, and his throat sent groans outward, adding unbelievable resonance to an already unbelievable experience. Rapture and ecstasy had fused and then liquefied. It flowed into her mouth, slid down her throat. Entered her veins...

  And altered every reality.

  Their synched heartbeats came loud, hard, and fast, creating a series of rhythmic thumps that bounced off walls. Conjoined breathing became a pizzicato of plucked strings. Her moans interspersed with his groaning, adding an orchestral background of sound. And everywhere was the impression of fireworks, constantly getting lit, fired, and exploded. It was unreal.

  Fantastical.

  Impossible.

  But that didn’t stop the room from a shower of oranges, blacks, and reds, amid sparkles of neon blue and crystalline yellow. The sensations swirled and grew, then somehow fused, becoming a realm of red-hot flames, combustible passions, and incendiary elixirs.

  Simone shoved Reynaldo onto his back, and he not only allowed it, he held her to him, making certain she stayed latched in place.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  And she knew it.

  Simone moved to straddle him, the position placing her most sensitive tissues against incredible heat. Thick might. Erect power. And then she started teasing...taunting and tormenting them both. Her movements were not her own. She was in the grip of something more than powerful. It was overwhelming. She wasn’t extending the moment due to a need for preparation. Reynaldo was ready. Primed. And pulsing against her with every grinding move. There was another thing at play here.

  Simone couldn’t believe this level of excitement even existed. Wouldn’t have known where to find it. Or how to achieve it. And she wanted every part of this dream memorized. So she could alter any moment of her future anytime she wished. That’s why she fought to prolong this, taking it right to the brink and holding there until things muted enough she could do it again.

  “Simone. Sweet, sweet, Simone...”

  His voice was a catalyst, especially with the tone he used. Deep notes rumbled through the concert of sounds about them, while return echoes lifted strands of hair as if electrified.

  “You must stop. Oh, my love! Please. You cannot take more!”

  His words only fueled a desire for that very thing. More. As much as she could get.

  “Enough!”

  Reynaldo yelled it and grabbed her waist, stopping her. He jerked his throat from her grasp next and then he glared up at her with eyes that weren’t remotely blue. They were blood red; easily as dark as the droplets misting the scene.

  “But...Reynaldo.”

  Her complaint was accompanied with a squirm. Reynaldo swore something foreign before he lifted her, taking their loins completely out of contact. And then he just held her there. Every portion of him was pulled taut. Striations of muscle pulsed beneath skin that darkened as she watched. Strands of his hair were tangled with hers. He was panting hard, his open mouth revealing fang tips that glistened with what light was available. He wasn’t just shaking anymore, either. The bed moved with volcanic tremors that transferred outward to propel the cacophony into greater volume. Mass. And color.

  Simone watched his eyes intensify. They went dark. Obsidian black. Black enough to draw her into their depths...

  And keep her there.

  And so she blew him an air-kiss.

  “You vixen!”

  His arms bulged as fingers tightened like iron clamps. His hips arched upward, so he could slam her down onto him. He immediately lifted her back up, only to slam her back down again.

  And again.

  “I wanted...to do this slowly! Bring you hours...of pleasure! Hours!”

  Harsh words accompanied his thrusts. Harder. Faster. Simone snatched a breath. Held it for a long moment as paradise cracked open before her, and then it was there. Ecstasy slammed into her. Her eyes flooded with tears. Her cry reverberated outward. All the while Renaldo continued pumping. Lifting her up. Slamming her back down.

  Again.

  And again.

  His movements grew wilder. Even quicker. Something snapped in the bed frame. Wood cracked ominously. One side of the bed shuddered, dropped slightly, and held. Reynaldo didn’t even seem to notice. He pulled her to him and rolled, gaining the top. Then he pushed up, using this new mattress slant to best advantage. Gaining depth with each thrust.
A fulcrum of power to each withdrawal. A wash of bedding rolled toward them, stopped by their bodies. The storm built again. Gained power with each movement as Reynaldo filled her and fulfilled her.

  The bed swayed and creaked. The drums grew to a crescendo. The pizzicato sound of strings being plucked turned into long perfect notes, one after the other. Something fell. Something else crashed with a bang. Simone pulled in a deep breath, scrunched her eyes shut, and surrendered to ecstasy so sublime, her eyes filled and her throat closed off.

  She felt Reynaldo punch the mattress at her shoulders, before he lunged up and bellowed. The sound filled the air, surrounding her. And then it stabbed right to her heart.

  Tears slipped from beneath her closed eyelids before his voice ran out. And then he collapsed onto her. Simone wrapped her arms tightly about him, holding him close, losing her ability to gain a breath from his weight but unwilling to change a thing. She was adding all of this to her memory bank for later.

  Every second of it.

  Reynaldo shuddered a final time and rolled to his side, holding her to him. Keeping her securely attached. Simone sucked in a lungful of air. Exhaled it. Did it again.

  “Simone?”

  His whisper was accompanied by fingers that brushed hair from her cheek, smoothed it over her shoulder. His touch was so gentle! She purposely counted ten heartbeats before opening her eyes. She needed to memorize how this felt. So it would be hers for the rest of her boring, mind-numbing, going-nowhere life.

  When she had to return to it.

  “Love?”

  She opened her eyes to an expression she’d never seen. Warm. Tender. And from his blue eyes, it was earth-shaking. Goosebumps raced down her arms, grabbed her throat. Shot to her eyes. Simone blinked rapidly against an onslaught of renewed emotion. He brushed his thumb along her eyelashes. Glanced at the wetness there. Looked back at her. And said something that shattered.

  “I love you.”

  And if she’d have perished right then, she’d have died happy.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Reynaldo didn’t know what he’d expected after his declaration, but what happened wasn’t it.

  Awash with tears, Simone’s eyes were clear and deep, the green beyond any he’d ever seen. Yellow-green at the edges they changed to a sea-green shade in the centers. He’d rarely beheld such warmth. Genuine. Convivial. Utterly guileless. He could gaze into them for hours. Easily. They resembled precious multi-hued jadestones his family had once traded for in the Orient. Unique and rare. Or, perhaps they were closer to a deep, mysterious section beneath the surface of a sunlit pond. If it hadn’t been centuries in the past, and if he had the ability to be out in bright daylight, he’d might be able to conjure a decent comparison.

  Either way, Simone’s eyes altered as he watched. Her expression went unreadable. Almost blank. And then she looked down and her lashes hid him from seeing even that much.

  “Um. Reynaldo?”

  Her voice cracked slightly. His heart twinged. That meant hers must have the same response. She was his mate and he was hers. Matching physical responses wasn’t an option, especially now that they’d physically mated. He ran his tongue along his upper teeth, touching fang tips that were almost receded, while he waited for her to look back at him.

  But she didn’t.

  “What is it, love?” he finally prompted.

  “You...shouldn’t have said that. And you shouldn’t call me that.”

  She pulled from him as she spoke, then rolled to her side, physically separating what she’d already mentally begun. She had to hold herself from him, though. Otherwise the slant of the mattress would have sent her right back to him.

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “You said you were always truthful.”

  “I am.”

  “Well, then. Your endearment can’t be true.”

  “It is.”

  “We just met.”

  Reynaldo studied the tangled locks of her hair for a bit, how it followed the curve of her back. How that led to a narrow waist. From there, to her lush buttocks. Stockings still clung to her thighs, but they’d slipped. The lace tops hovered just above her knees. She was so luscious. So desirable. So utterly womanly...

  His cazzo stirred. Hardened.

  Merda!

  Almost too late he realized he was adding trouble where none was needed. Reynaldo quickly moved his gaze to the chamber beyond her, and tried to repress any emotion from in his voice. “Did we now?” he finally replied.

  “You know we did. Hours ago. I think. Heck. I don’t even know anymore.”

  He waved a hand although she couldn’t see it. “Hours. Weeks. Years. Time is an immaterial construct, actually. One designed by mankind to produce stress in themselves and others.”

  “Try telling that to my alarm clock.”

  Reynaldo’s lips twitched.

  “Look. I’m in over my head here, okay? This is all so unreal! It feels like I’ve been tossed into an unlit maze and every turn I take just gets me in deeper.”

  “Deeper?”

  “Yeah. Deeper. Like, into psychosis.”

  “I am unfamiliar with the word,” Reynaldo admitted.

  “It means insane. Crazed. Mad. Sufferers need to be locked up in a padded room away from others. Oh. And toss in a straitjacket.”

  “But you are none of those things.”

  “I’m with a man who says he’s a vampire. He has fangs...and ugh. He even sucks blood. And you’re telling me I’m not crazy?”

  “I beg to differ, darling, but just slightly. You are with a vampire who exhibits all the traits of one...because he is one.” He stressed the last portion of his reply.

  She sighed heavily, lifting her shoulders with it. “And there you have it. Psychiatric care and drug therapy, here I come. I wonder if this is covered in my health plan.”

  “Simone.”

  “Reynaldo.”

  She mimicked his careful tone. Exactly. He couldn’t control the snicker. “You are so priceless! Do you know that?” he remarked.

  “All I know is you can’t possibly be a vampire. There is no such thing. It’s a proven fact. It’s a physical, medical, and chemical impossibility.”

  “But you saw—.”

  “I know you exhibit all the ethos of a vampire,” she interrupted him. “That doesn’t mean you are one! It just means I’m seeing things. Or, I’m insane.”

  “Do you work all your debates in this fashion?” Reynaldo asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I am evaluating my prospects for the future. I shall obviously have to be on my toes before I enjoin a debate with you. But, oh! I so look forward to them.”

  “We don’t have a future, Reynaldo.”

  “Oh. Forgive my lack. Allow me to rectify that. Will you accept my hand in wedlock, Miss Simone Ryan?” he asked easily.

  She choked. “What?”

  “I apologize for the short notice, and my failure in offering an engagement trinket, nor am I on bended knee before you...but I am proposing a wedded union with you. And now I anxiously await your answer.”

  “This is insane.”

  “That is not the answer I was hoping for,” he quipped.

  “Reynaldo, please. I wish you’d stop. Just stop.”

  Moments passed with the sounds of their breathing. Something moved on the dressing table. Reynaldo watched a candle wallow in its wax pool before it fell over, extinguishing itself. The one that had been beside it tilted. There weren’t many tapers still lit. He counted sixteen but that didn’t include those in the water closet that still shed a dim glow.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Following your command.”

  “I didn’t command anything.”

  “Your wish is my command, love.”

  “Will you please stop calling me that? Please?”

  He blew a sigh. “I shall try, but it may prove difficult. You are so very easy to love.”

  “I don’t know
why I even question this anymore. I’m in a fairytale palace, with a fairytale prince. Only this one claims to be a fictitious creature. And now there’s a fictitious emotion involved. Why the hell, not?”

  The amusement was difficult to stifle. He had to clear his throat before speaking. “I love you, Simone. That is a declaration of my feelings, not a fictitious emotion.”

  She shook her head, her tangled mass of hair shifted with it. “You don’t even know me.”

  “Love doesn’t need time, Simone. It only needs the right person. A moment can be enough. An hour. An evening. Time is immaterial. Love isn’t something earned. It may not even be deserved. Those whose hearts are touched by it...they know. And rejoice. And those who will never feel it? Well. No amount of time would be enough.”

  “You’re a poet, too, aren’t you?”

  “I admit I dabbled in prose at one time. A long time ago. In my youth. It was...a socially desirable pursuit of the era.”

  “How old are you, Reynaldo?”

  Her question was a surprise. He considered an answer for long enough she looked over her shoulder at him. She had a skeptical look about her. As if she already prepared for him to prevaricate. Reynaldo tucked hair behind both ears, then folded his arms, doing his best to look honest and trustworthy. But he’d never been tasked with demonstrating those qualities – not at the same time anyway - so he was guessing what might be required. He already knew she expected eye contact. That was easy. Assuming a non-aggressive pose was another facet.

  And finally!

  She turned back to him, although she pulled the covers to her chest. It was still better than conversing with her back.

  “Would you like the figure in mortal years? Or immortal ones?” he finally queried.

  She closed her eyes and held them closed for long enough he fidgeted with a tasseled corner of the drape that had once hung down the back wall. She opened her eyes back to him. Set her lips. Lowered her chin.

  “You pick,” she finally said.

  “Very well. I am thirty-three.”