by Fawn Lowery
“Don’t touch me!”
Jarharis wrenched her against his chest and lifted her feet from the ground. In the next instant, he took to the air, the woman clutched against his chest. Darkness surrounded them and, for a brief moment, he wondered what he should do with the woman.
She tried to wrench free of his grasp, only to realize they were aloft then screamed in his face and clutched his shoulders with clawing hands. “What in the hell are you doing? Are we flying?”
“Fear not.” He regretted uttering the words, for he had all intentions of taking what he wanted from her—just as soon as he decided on a place to secret her away for a few minutes. He had been very foolish in pursuing her as he had. He scanned the buildings below. Many were lighted with glowing windows that revealed their tenants wakefulness.
She squirmed in his arms, twisting first one way, then the other. “I live in that building, the one with the patio on the roof. There. See it?”
She didn’t sound scared any longer. He felt himself relax a bit. He took his gaze off the scenery below for a second to glance at her. Her hair was fluttering wildly about her face while she peered bravely beneath their moving bodies. Her arms were clasped tightly around his neck, her breasts pressed into the muscles of his chest. He swallowed the uncertainty welling up inside him.
“Go there. Land on the roof.”
He sensed he should obey her command—a completely foreign thing for him to do. He smiled in spite of himself. He had never allowed a woman to command him—ever. He followed her pointing hand and glided easily onto the roof. She hopped out of his grasp so quickly that he wondered if he had made a mistake by following her orders.
“That was one hell of a flight, buster. How did you do that?” She straightened her sweater and stared at him.
He glanced around. The roof was flat and he could make out many items scattered about its surface. Chairs and tables, and a long bench. A faint light glowed at one end of the area. Finally, he returned his gaze to the woman. He sensed her curiosity. And suspicion. “Do you have other weapons—besides the dagger in your left boot?”
She pulled in a quick breath. “You were in the shadows! I knew someone was there!”
He moved toward her, sensing more than mere curiosity and slight suspicion. “Do you have other weapons? Is the dagger in your boot your only weapon?”
She took a step back, glancing over her shoulder toward the end of the building.
He followed her gaze, identifying a doorway looming in the darkness. “You stand no chance of escaping me. I assure you, your speed is no match for mine.” He snarled suddenly and covered the distance between them in rapid haste, grasping her by the throat. He hauled her body against his chest. “I have wasted too much time with you already, my sweet.”
She struggled against his grasp, pushing at his chest with flattened palms. Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth to scream, but a quick thought from Jarharis, and she fell silent. Her body sagged against his vice-like hold on her throat. “Please…don’t kill me.”
He cocked an eyebrow. No mortal was immune to his powers of suggestion. No one.
“What do you want from me? Do you want to fuck?”
Her words gave him pause. Why isn’t this woman under my power?
“Strip off my clothes—and we’ll have sex right here—on the roof in the moonlight.”
Her breath was hot puffs against his face. He could peer down into her eyes. She was frightened of him—yet she dared goad him. He tightened his grasp on her throat and opened his mouth, baring his fangs. His eyes glowed red—like burning embers stuck in his skull. He had wasted enough time with the woman. He was famished. He found her vein, felt her pulse beating beneath his thumb. He sank his fangs into her vein and felt the gush of warm blood fill his mouth.
“Ouch! You son-of-a-bitch!” She wiggled in his grasp.
He tightened his hand on her throat.
She raised one leg and slammed a knee into his crotch.
CHAPTER TWO
His prick felt like it was broken! He groaned and tried to put aside the hurt while the warm gush of blood filled his mouth. Stifling the urge to writher in pain, he drank greedily. Her hot blood flowed against his tongue, thrilling his senses and quickly reviving his flagging body. He closed his eyes briefly, swallowing the life force in large gulps as he restrained her against his chest.
She stopped struggling after a few moments. Her body sagged against his chest. He felt her fear and apprehension and tried to reassure her with his mind. Always before, when he took from a victim, he tried to assure them that he meant them little harm. He only took what was necessary and no more. He had never killed anyone before and promised himself that he would never drain a body of all its blood. The curse of vampirism was his for eternity and he had little intention of creating others like him.
The woman lost consciousness. Jarharis slowed his feeding. His body felt strong and revived. He raised his head, removing his fangs from her vein. He paused, smelling her scent, then lapped the wound with the tip of his tongue, sealing the tiny pin pricks. She might have a bruise come morning, but her body would have made up the loss of blood by that time. He held her against his chest and gazed down at her. Her eyes were closed. Her head fell limply back on her shoulders. He lowered her to the floor, being careful not to bump her head as he released her.
He stood and gazed around at the city from their lofty position atop the building. Rooftops were visible as far as he could see in any direction. He brushed one hand across his hair, at a loss for his next move. Should he leave the woman on the roof and return to investigating the city? He turned his gaze on her. She lay as still as a corpse. A surge of guilt nearly choked his throat. Had he taken too much blood in his haste to feed? True. He had been famished.
“Blast!” He turned his gaze toward the end of the roof. The door leading to the lower levels of the building was clear in the moonlight. Should he take the woman to her living quarters? He considered the thought.
I’ve wasted enough time with the woman as it is. He ran one hand through his hair. He couldn’t ever remember feeling so responsible for a victim. He stooped and scooped her limp body into his arms. Positioning her head against his shoulder, he turned toward the door at the end of the roof.
The door at first appeared locked, but it gave little resistance to his immense strength. He pulled it open and strode through the entrance—his ears and eyes keen to any living beings traipsing along the dark passageway. He could hear sounds coming from beyond the closed doors as he continued his trek along the darkened corridor. Passing from one apartment to the other, he deemed the foreign voices to be those of the occupants of the rooms and not the home of the woman in his arms. He stole a peek at her. She lay quietly, her breathing even. He had no doubt that she would be none the worse for his act against her.
He found the stairs leading to the next floor and walked quietly to the next landing. He paused and accessed the closed doors leading off the hallway. The last apartment was empty—except for a small animal. His brow furrowed. A cat. He raised his nose into the air and sniffed, scenting the feline. A smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. He quickened his steps, understanding that he held the cat’s mistress in his arms.
He paused at the door of the apartment. Had he not been carrying the woman, he could have merely vaporized into a faint mist and seeped beneath the door. As it was, he had baggage. He lowered his eyes on the woman. She fit quite nicely against his chest. Her head was snuggled against his shoulder, her long hair splayed across his tunic. He pulled her scent into his lungs, identifying the faint smell of feline clinging to her clothes.
Jarharis laid one hand against the door and pressed forward, releasing the lock. The door opened with a squeak. He strode through the opening, kicking the door closed with one foot. With one quick sweep of his keen eyes, he identified the bedroom and strode in its direction.
The cat lay on the bed, a black and white long hair with a red collar around
its neck. It rose and stretched when he entered the room, but it didn’t run away. He crossed the room and laid his cargo atop the bed, positioning her head on the pillow at one end. He rose and stared down at her.
I should leave. He drew in a long breath, noticing the quiet of the apartment. The noise he had been exposed to all night was shut out. There was a peacefulness that seemed to radiate from the furnishings and the warm body lying before him. He sighed and considered his situation—again.
“Damn.” He cursed softly beneath his breath.
The woman moved on the bed, groaned, fell silent again.
Jarharis gazed down at her. She had mesmerized him with her beauty.
And damn near killed me when she kicked me in the crotch. He laughed suddenly. Hell! I’m already dead.
He turned from the bed, convinced that it would be in his best interests if he left and never thought about the woman again. She could only mean trouble for him. He made his way to the door then paused, contemplating his next move. He rubbed his chin, thinking. He had followed her into a cemetery not far from the building he presently stood in. He needed a place to sleep when the night gave way to daylight. Perhaps he could spend the day inside one of the above ground mausoleums—if he could find his way back to the graveyard.
He strode to the window in the bedroom. Gazing beyond the panes of glass, he tried to remember the direction he had gone when he decided to fly off with the woman. His mind raced. A measure of doubt welled up inside him. He felt as though he was at loose ends and the feeling was uncommon and disturbing. For an instant he wished he had chosen to remain in his time period. He had been foolish to think traveling ahead to 2007 would be a good idea. Hell. So far he had managed to bite a woman that he found so incredibly attractive that he didn’t want to leave her.
A low groan sounded behind him. He turned and watched as she rolled to her side. She was asleep. There was no reason for him to stay. The cat stood and stretched then jumped to the floor. Silently, it left the room. He watched it as it disappeared through the doorway.
Returning his eyes to the sleeping woman, he felt his emotions stir. Just before he fed from her body, he had found himself becoming sexually aroused. A shiver of lust warmed his big body. He had often solicited sex from a woman—while he was alive anyway. Once he had been changed, he had merely used his powers to order a female to satisfy his needs. He lowered his hand to his crotch. His cock was growing hard. He pulled in a long breath. Did he dare awaken her?
He moved toward the bed. Her body was very desirable in the tight jeans and clinging sweater. He could almost imagine how her warm flesh would feel beneath his inquiring hands. He smiled slightly. He would wake her—and then if she sent him away—
He waved one hand and she lurched upright in the bed, her eyes wide and her hair flying about her head in disarray.
“Where am I?”
“Home—I believe.”
She found him in the dark room, pinned her eyes on him while she inched to the side of the bed. “How did you know where I lived?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I know many things.”
She swung her feet over the side of the bed and levered herself upward. “What did you do to me? I feel like hell.” She clutched her head and fell back against the bed. “What did you do to me?” Her voice cracked with emotion.
“I only took a little blood.”
“Blood! Blood! You took my blood? What are you—the fucking Red Cross?”
“Red Cross?”
She stared through the darkness at him, but didn’t speak. She sat on the side of the bed and clutched her head in both hands.
Jarharis felt a wave of guilt surge through his insides. He had tried not to harm her, but perhaps, in his haste, he had taken too much of her blood. He lowered himself to the side of the bed where she sat. Reaching one arm toward her, tentatively, he placed one hand on her back.
She stiffened beneath his palm. Twisting to one side, she separated herself from his touch. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re here in my apartment, but I want you out!”
Surprised at her words, Jarharis rose from the bed. Thoughts of leaving entered his mind—for the millionth time. He should have taken leave once he placed her on the bed, but his senses had been muddled the moment he gazed down at her. His cock strained against his britches. He ran one hand through his hair. Leaving now was out of the question. He was too aroused sexually to go.
“What are you waiting for?” She tried to stand, pushing herself from the bed only to fall back against the mattress.
Jarharis caught her, wrapping his arms around her waist and upper body, he lowered her to the bed and followed her body as it settled against the mattress. His weight settled against her form. Her warmth immediately engulfed his cold body. He sighed audibly.
She pushed against his chest, flattening her palms and using her forearms against his upper body. She tried to lever herself upward, but her weakened state prevented her from making much effort. She groaned and settled back against the mattress, realizing her strength could not match his.
A wave of victory settled inside Jarharis. A small smile pulled at his full lips. Mentally, he ordered the woman to submit. He drew her fragrance into his nose, filling his senses with her female aroma. He lowered his head so that his face hovered just above hers. The faint moonlight illuminating the room allowed him to see her features. Her eyes were wide, staring up at him in wonder. He felt her fright.
He stared at her for a moment, mentally reaching out to her as his lust rose in mountainous peaks. He allowed his full weight to settle atop her body. He clasped her wrists and pushed her arms above her head, holding her hands beneath his palms. He pressed his rapidly hardening cock against her crotch, spreading his legs atop hers and pinning her fast against the mattress. Submit to me.
She released a long breath. Her lashes dipped alluringly over her eyes, fluttering softly to settle against her cheeks. She relaxed her muscles, pliable beneath his big body. “Go ahead and rape me. I have no strength to fight you.”
Her voice was barely a whisper in the quiet room. Jarharis lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers, feeling her body stiffen beneath his.
She rolled her head, breaking contact with his lips. “No kissing, please. I know the difference between rape and love making.”
He brushed his lips across her cheek, nipping tenderly until he worked his way around to her mouth again, this time he paused and forced her lips apart with the tip of his tongue. He groaned deep in his throat when she gave no resistance. His tongue slipped between her lips and he tasted the sweet inside of her mouth. His emotions soared. He deepened the kiss, feeling her body react in kind. She pressed her hands forward against his palms, searching for release. He considered her plea for a moment, then decided against becoming too confident in his effect on her.
She squirmed beneath his body, slowly moving her hips and rubbing her crotch against his hard cock. She moaned at his tending of her mouth.
He grew complacent, slowly releasing her hands and running his palms down the length of her pinned arms. His mouth continued the barrage of fevered kisses, working his way across her chin to her throat and lower onto her exposed breasts. He lowered his hands and grasped the hem of her sweater. A quick flick and it left her chest bare.
She sucked in a quick breath and tried to cover herself with one hand.
Jarharis chuckled beneath his breath and dipped his head to suckle a ripe breast. He pulled her taut nipple between his lips, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. Moonlight spilled across her naked flesh, bringing a delectable glow to her heaving mounds. Supple flesh delighted his eyes and encouraged his mouth to taste.
He suckled her breasts and lapped hungrily at her flesh as she tangled her hands in his long hair and held his hot mouth against her naked skin. She raised her legs and clutched his waist, hunching her hips toward his crotch.
He could stand it no longer. He moaned his need and stripped his pants
off his hips, setting his engorged cock free. One quick yank on the waistband of her tight jeans and their seams gave way. He tossed the torn garment aside, listening as it landed on the floor beside the bed.
Naked, except for her boots, Jarharis remembered the dagger that might be a threat to him. He reached one arm down, sliding his hand along her thigh and onto the calf of her leg to relieve her of the boot, when she suddenly lurched upward. He jerked around, spying her face very near his. She was smiling a wide grin, her eyes vivid in the faint light of the room. His hand tightened on her boot, keeping her from raising her leg further. They stared at each other through the pale moonlight streaming in through the bedroom window.
“Give it up.”
“Why do you fear my knife?”
“Perhaps it is not the knife I fear, but the woman who plans to use it against me.”
She relaxed against the bed suddenly, surprising him again. He pulled the boot from her foot and threw it across the room. The silver dagger flew out of the cuff and landed against the wall, clanging loudly. Without further conversation, he rid her of her other boot, tossing it across the room as well.
Completely naked, she lay beneath his body, her eyes watching him as though she couldn’t believe what was happening between them.
He splayed his fingers and caressed her breast, lifting the heavy mound in his palm. He dipped his head and licked her nipple. Watching her face as he wet her skin, he felt her compliance with his desire to touch her. “Have you known a man before?”
A short laugh leapt from her mouth. “Does the sun come up in the morning?”
He sighed, slightly annoyed with her reaction to his inquiry. He skimmed his hand across her waist and onto her abdomen. “I assume you have known at least one man then.”
“Assume anything you want.”