The Immortal Who Loved Me

by Lynsay Sands

  Panting, she pushed her feet into the bed and lifted herself into his touch, watching the struggle taking place on his face through almost closed eyes. She had to marvel at his self-restraint. If her hands weren't tied, she would be trying desperately to push him down on his back so she could climb on top of him, take him into her body and end this torment.

  "Oh God," Sherry cried when he eased his finger out and thrust back in again, hard, this time using two fingers and stretching her. She tugged at her bindings, her body arching, hips pressing down into the thrust, seeking the release she was so close to finding. And then Basil stopped caressing her and removed his hand from between her legs.

  "No, no, no, please," she moaned, and then sagged with relief when Basil shifted to kneel between her legs. There was sweat on his forehead that told her how much that little bit of foreplay had cost him, how hard he'd had to fight their growing passion to try to draw this out. But she didn't care. At that point all she wanted was to feel him thrusting into her, so she was relieved when he grabbed her by the hips, lifted her off the bed so that she was strung from the headboard like a hammock, and plowed into her with the vigor they both needed.

  "God, yes," Sherry cried, and wrapped one leg around his hips. She kept her other foot planted on the bed for leverage and used both to thrust back, meeting each thrust with her own eager passion. And then Basil released her hips, leaving her to ride him as she would while he leaned forward to fondle her breasts.

  Sherry bucked against him on a cry of excitement as he pinched her nipples, then bucked again when he shifted one hand down between them to run his thumb roughly over her excited nub. As sensitive as she was, her pleasure was almost painful under the bold touch, and she went wild, thrusting and bucking and screaming obscenities as she rode his erection to her own pleasure . . . and his.

  Sherry woke up first this time. Her memory of what happened didn't come to her immediately. It wasn't until she tried to sit up and her bound wrists and Basil's body prevented it that she recalled. Blushing all the way down to her toes then, she closed her eyes briefly.

  Jeez, who knew she had such a potty mouth? she thought as she recalled the things she'd been yelling at the end. Biting the inside of her lip, she glanced down at Basil's head and tried to imagine what he must think of her now . . . and what was going to happen when he woke up. She'd have to ask him to untie her, she realized, and closed her eyes as she imagined suffering through his knowing looks as he did it, and--

  Sherry's eyes blinked open as he shifted. When she peered down this time it was to see that his eyes were open and he was watching her.

  "Hi," she said weakly, and then cleared her throat and asked, "Do you think you could untie me?"

  Basil gave her a lazy smile, and then shifted off of her and crawled to the head of the bed to examine the robe tie.

  "I think you'll need to come up higher so the tie has a little give," he said with a frown as he examined the stretched material.

  Sherry hesitated, and then rolled onto her stomach and shifted to her knees, murmuring "Thank you" when he reached back to take her elbow and help her crawl to the top of the bed on her knees. They were both upright and kneeling on the pillows now, side by side, and Basil rubbed his hand briefly down her back before setting to work on the tie.

  "Thank you," she whispered again when he managed to untie the end attached to the bed.

  "My pleasure," he assured her, and then turned and kissed her.

  Sherry kissed him back, sucking eagerly at his tongue, before thrashing it with her own. She felt one of his hands claim a breast and pressed into the caress, then moaned as his other hand ran down her back to caress her bottom, before slipping between her legs from behind to find the wet heat building there.

  "Oh, God," Sherry moaned when he broke their kiss to run his mouth to her ear and nibble at it. She was riding his hand, her excitement back and burning bright, and then Basil suddenly cursed and stopped what he was doing to shift behind her and grab her hips. He paused then, though, and took a deep breath.

  "I should finish untying--"

  She raised her hands over her head for him to get to them, and he quickly set to work, groaning when she rubbed her bottom against his erection. It was madness and she knew it. They'd just done this twice, well not this exactly, but they'd both reached fulfillment twice now and yet all he had to do was touch or kiss her and she was burning as brightly as a Roman candle, desperate to find that release again.

  "Hurry," she urged, rubbing harder against him, and gasping at the pleasure it sent through them both. When her hands suddenly broke free, Sherry grabbed the top of the headboard and rubbed back against him a final time before he clasped her shoulder with one hand and her hip with the other and pulled her back even as he thrust forward.

  She moaned as he filled her, her body clenching around him and trying to hold him in place. She then reached down between her legs to caress herself, her fingers playing over her slick skin as he thrust in and out of her. She was just teetering on the edge of orgasm when he suddenly reached around to find and pinch one of her nipples. It was what she needed. In the next moment they were both screaming as pleasure overwhelmed them.

  Twelve

  The next time Sherry woke up she was alone in bed. Shifting sleepily, she turned on her side, intending to go back to sleep, but then paused when she saw the readout on the digital clock on the bedside table. It was 9 A.M. . . . and Lucian was supposed to be coming back this morning. Sighing, she reluctantly pushed the blankets aside and climbed out of bed, then made her way to the bathroom. She'd opened the door and started in before it occurred to her that Basil might be in there.

  Fortunately, he wasn't. Although the room was warm and a little steamy, suggesting that he'd showered not long ago. Deciding a shower was a good idea, and hoping it would wake her up and make her feel less like death warmed over, Sherry closed the door.

  Fifteen minutes later Sherry was showered, teeth brushed, and her damp hair brushed neatly away from her face. She peered at herself in the mirror and grimaced at the circles under her eyes. Reaching for her makeup, she acknowledged that they should have gone right to sleep last night instead of--

  Color came into her pale cheeks as she recalled what they'd done, and she picked up her makeup with a little shake of the head.

  "You're an animal," she told her reflection quietly, and that's what it had felt like. Unrestrained, wild, give it to me now. If her hands hadn't been restrained the first time and if she hadn't had her back to him the last time, his back and maybe even his front would have been a mass of scratches today.

  Maybe that's why he tied her, she thought suddenly. She was pretty sure she'd marked him up during their first go-round at the house in Port Henry . . . although, fast healer that he was, there had been no proof of it by the time she'd seen his back the next morning. For some reason, with Basil . . . she couldn't help herself. She became this mindless wild thing, interested in only--

  "God, I do love the cock rather than just like it, after all," she muttered with self-deprecation, and then added to herself, Well, at least Basil's. None of her previous lovers had driven her mad as he did. Not that she'd had hoards of them or anything. She could count how many lovers she'd had on one hand, which was pretty moderate for a thirty-two-year-old woman in today's world. Still, she'd thought she'd had hot sex before, but this was beyond the norm.

  Having done all the damage control she could with the makeup, Sherry headed out to the bedroom to dress. As she was reaching to take a top off its hanger, she noticed her wrists were chapped and bruised from her attempts to pull free of the robe tie. She had not healed overnight, like Basil would have. Grimacing, she left the shirt she'd originally intended to wear and reached for a long-sleeved blouse instead.

  The sound of voices drifted up the hall when she opened the bedroom door. She recognized Drina's and Harpers, and then Basil's, but then another female spoke and she didn't recognize this new voice. Frowning, Sherry slo
wed as she reached the end of the hall and then stopped to survey the people in the living room.

  Lucian, Bricker, Drina, Harper, and Basil she all knew. She didn't, however, recognize the second woman in the room or the man standing with her. The woman--tall, slender, dressed all in black, and with several weapons strapped to her waist and legs--certainly made an impression. But her hair was the most notable thing about her--ice blond from the scalp and for three inches down, it then switched to a darker color, which was a mixture of brown and red for the next six inches or so. Sherry couldn't tell if it was a dye job that was growing out or if it had been deliberately dyed with dark ends, but it was striking just the same, and oddly attractive. The man was fair-haired and equally attractive.

  "That's Basha Argeneau and Marcus Notte."

  Sherry glanced around at that quiet announcement and raised her eyebrows at Stephanie, who now stood at her elbow. "Who are they?"

  "Basha is Lucian and Basil's niece," Stephanie explained. "Marcus is her life mate."

  "Okay, but why are they here?" Sherry asked, clarifying her previous question. "Are they hunters like Drina?"

  "Oh," Stephanie said with a grimace. "No . . . well, sort of. At least they are right now," she added, and told her, "Basha is Leo's mom."

  "What?" Sherry gasped with amazement, her eyes widening incredulously.

  "She said I am Leo's mother."

  Sherry's head whipped back at that smooth announcement, alarm racing through her when she found Basha had crossed the room and now stood directly in front of her. Even as she noted that, the man Stephanie had said was Marcus stepped up behind Basha and slid his arm around her waist in a protective manner.

  Sherry simply eyed the pair silently, unsure what to say. Should she apologize? Offer her sympathies? Ask the woman to please get her son in hand so she could go back to her life?

  "An apology is unnecessary," Basha assured her quietly. "The sympathies are appreciated, though, and if I could get my son 'in hand,' as you put it, I would have done so long ago rather than have to be the one who now has to put him down like the rabid dog he is."

  "Ah," Sherry murmured, and then frowned. "Lucian is making you handle your son?" That seemed harsh.

  "Not as harsh as what could have been done," Basha said quietly. "They had Leo a couple years ago. I helped him escape. I didn't know what he'd done and was doing," she added quietly. "But it doesn't matter. The fact is, he killed again after that and I'm responsible for those lost lives. The council could have held me responsible for them and punished me. Instead, they expect me to clean up my mess . . . and I intend to do that."

  "We intend to do that," Marcus said in a solemn rumble, pulling the woman back against him.

  "Yes," she sighed, and tilted her head back to offer the man a grateful smile.

  "If you're done introducing yourselves," Lucian said dryly into the brief silence.

  Basha smiled faintly at Sherry's alarmed expression. "His bark is worse than his bite."

  "No, it's not," Marcus said dryly, shifting his arm around Basha to turn her back toward the couch.

  Sherry and Stephanie followed silently, both moving toward Basil when he shifted to make room for them on the couch he occupied alone.

  "Good morning, love," he whispered, leaning toward her to kiss her briefly as Sherry settled next to him.

  "You should have woken me," she murmured, covering his hand where it rested on his leg and squeezing gently.

  "You looked so peaceful sleeping, I didn't have the heart," Basil said solemnly, and then smiled wryly and added, "I was also afraid that if I did, we'd never get out of the room."

  Sherry smiled faintly, silently acknowledging that he was probably right.

  "I've brought Basha and Marcus up to speed on the situation since Leo showed up at your store," Lucian announced, garnering everyone's attention.

  Her gaze immediately moved to Basha at this news, and she wondered how the woman must feel, knowing that her son was such a monster. All of this had to be difficult for her.

  "Harper made copies of your list, Sherry," Drina said now, gesturing to several stacks of paper on the coffee table. "Do you want coffee and something to eat before we go through them?"

  Sherry hesitated and then stood up. "It's okay. You go ahead, I'll just grab myself a coffee while you go through the names. I already know them."

  Drina nodded and started to hand out the stacks of paper, saying, "There are bagels in the cupboard and cream cheese in the fridge, or there's bread, peanut butter, honey, and jam if you'd rather have toast."

  "Thanks," Sherry murmured as she eased between Basil's knees and the coffee table and headed for the kitchen. She went straight to the coffeepot first. It was nearly empty. She poured herself the last cup and then put on a fresh pot, considering what to have for breakfast as she did. She'd never been much of a breakfast eater, but had expended a lot of energy last night, so decided to have a bagel.

  Sherry ate at the island rather than take it out to eat in front of the others. When she finished, the fresh coffee was done as well, so she grabbed the pot to take with her in case anyone wanted a refresher.

  "Anyone up for more coffee?" she asked as she rejoined them at the couches. "I can bring cream and sugar out when I take back the pot."

  Lucian nudged his cup on the table without glancing up from the list of names he was perusing, which Sherry guessed was his version of "Yes, please." But Basil, Bricker, Basha, and Marcus actually said the words.

  "Sherry?" Drina murmured thoughtfully, glancing up to watch her pour coffee into Basil's cup.

  "Yes?" Sherry moved on to Basha and Marcus, refilling their cups.

  "I have done a quick once-over and there's no one here who has been in your life for more than ten or eleven years," Drina pointed out with a frown.

  "No, there isn't," Sherry agreed, stopping to fill Bricker's cup.

  "That cannot be right," Drina informed her. "For you to build up the resistance you have, there has to have been an immortal who was an integral part of your life for a good twenty years at least."

  Sherry raised her eyebrows at this news as she moved on to Lucian's cup. Shrugging, she said helplessly, "Well, I don't know what to tell you. The only people who have been in my life for twenty years or more are aunts and uncles and cousins and my mom's friends."

  She straightened with the nearly empty pot in hand. "I'm quite sure none of them are immortals. But aside from that, none of them have really been integral, if by that you mean they spend a lot of time with me. I only see my family on holidays and birthdays, and that's the way it's always been. As for my mom's friends, the last time I saw any of them was at her funeral three years ago, and I didn't see them more than once every year or two before that." She shrugged. "There really is no one who has been in my life on a daily basis for twenty years."

  "There is," Lucian announced, reaching for his coffee. The words were spoken with unshakable certainty, but then Sherry suspected the man always spoke that way. He was that kind of guy.

  Having learned that it was a waste of time to argue with people like that, she turned away, saying mildly, "If you say so."

  "Was that sarcasm?" she heard Lucian growl as she escaped into the kitchen.

  "No," Basil assured him with a smile in his voice. "I believe she is humoring you."

  Sherry didn't hear Lucian's response, but he was scowling when she returned to the room with spoons, cream, and sugar.

  "You mention Uncle Al here, that friend of your mother's," Drina pointed out as Sherry settled on the couch again. "But you didn't put down his last name."

  "Because I don't remember it," Sherry admitted, noting the surprise on the expressions of those around her before she continued, "I always just called him Uncle Al. But, as I said, he wasn't really an uncle. He was a family friend. He used to spend a lot of time with us, and he was really supportive of Mom when she and Dad split, but then he just stopped visiting and stuff. By the time I started university, he was l
ittle more than a fond memory."

  Drina blinked and slowly sat back.

  "She has a couple of instances of that," Basil said quietly.

  "Of what?" Sherry asked, turning to him with confusion. "Family friends whose last names I can't remember?"

  Basil shook his head. The notepad with her original list was on the coffee table beside the pen she'd used. He picked up both now, quickly scribbled something down, and then closed the notepad. Setting it on his knee, he turned to Sherry and asked, "You said you don't date much?"

  "No," Sherry admitted. "I don't really have time. I can date later. Right now I just want the store to be up and running and doing well."

  Basil nodded. "But you were engaged once. To an artist."

  Sherry nodded.

  "What happened there?"

  Sherry shrugged. "It just didn't work out. These things happen. It's better this way."

  Basil handed the notepad to Drina. "Open it and read what I wrote."

  The woman's eyebrows rose, but she opened the notepad and her eyes widened as she read what he'd written.

  "What is it?" Sherry asked with a frown, and Drina turned the notepad so she could read it. She did so out loud, a frown beginning to pull at her lips: "'I just want the store to be up and running and doing well . . . It just didn't work out. These things happen. It's better this way.'"

  Sherry sat back after reading that, then glanced to Basil with confusion. "What . . . ?"

  "It's what you say each time those subjects are broached. I noticed the part about getting the store up and running when we were talking on the porch at Casey Cottage. It wasn't making sense. You said the store was doing well and even making a profit, but then kept repeating that you needed the store up and running and doing well before you could take the time to date. The exact same phrase each time." He grimaced. "I thought maybe it was just a one-off, but you said the same thing when the subject came up at lunch with Elvi and Victor. You also had another phrase that you repeated when the subject of your love life came up at lunch. You mentioned your broken engagement, and when she asked why, you explained--"