by Kallysten
His body was hard, solid on top of hers, pressing against her breasts. Her nipples ached they were so tight, and she knew he had to feel them against his chest, like she could feel his hardened cock against her leg. She pushed back against his mouth, holding his face in both her hands, kissing with her heart and soul, like she’d never kissed anyone before. He kissed her back with the same intensity, giving her all that he was.
It wasn’t enough, though. Nothing would be enough until they were joined as one. Her hands dropped to his shoulders then his back, and she clutched his shirt, tugged it, pulled until it was sliding up and over his head. The pendant he wore around his neck on a silver chain swung free, the warmed metal brushing against her neck.
As their mouths came apart, he pulled away from her. She tried to hold on to him, but he rolled off her and lay next to her in the grass, gasping for breath.
“Let...let it go,” he said. “The Quickening... Your emotions are... They’re echoing against mine. Feeding from them. And mine are feeding from yours. It’s like...a feedback loop. If we don’t stop...”
She had rolled onto her side, pressing against the length of his body, and she could feel him tremble with every word. As much as she wanted to kiss him again, touch him, all of him, his words reached her consciousness, and she tried to make sense of them. They had to be important for him to stop and say all this now. Only one thing seemed clear, that filled her with a joy almost as deep as her desire.
“You...you want me,” she said in a throaty voice, and it wasn’t a question. She could all but feel his need radiating from him, echoing her own, like he had said. She could even see it, that myriad of colors flowing from her into him and shooting right back at her.
He shifted against her, and she couldn’t have said if he was trying to move away from her, or closer. It was all she could do not to seek his lips again.
“I do, Vivien, by all the Quickening, I really do. But not like that. Not when we’re both drunk off channeling.”
With a grunt, he pushed himself off her, lying on his back in the grass, severing all contact with her. He was still shaking, his chest—his beautiful chest, strong, with well-defined abs and a dusting of fine hair—heaving with his fast breaths. She started to follow, but what he had said stilled her. Drunk? She wasn’t drunk. She felt fine. Absolutely fine. She just wanted him, and he wanted her. What was wrong with that?
But if he wanted her, why would he stop her now? Why would he say these things?
Unless...unless they were true?
She rolled onto her back so she couldn’t see him anymore and tried her best to calm her heartbeat along with her thoughts. She was still pushing out her emotions like Brad had taught her, although without a clear focus; she made a conscious effort to stop. She struggled to let go, like she had struggled to channel her feelings, and after a few moments colors flickered back into the world. The sky above her was blue again beyond the shimmer of the shields. Her mind slowed down, and she took a deep breath, held it in for a count of three, then let it out in a long, slow sigh.
“Wow,” she murmured.
At her side, just an arm’s length away, Brad chuckled breathlessly. “Not what you expected when you started making that petal dance, was it?”
She rolled onto her stomach, her head resting on her folded arms. “Not exactly,” she said, tongue in cheek. “You could have warned me.”
He shifted onto his side, his cheek propped up against his hand. His eyes were twinkling with mirth when he said, “I’d never have guessed that was the feeling you were using.”
Vivien’s face felt very warm. Her gaze broke away from his and drifted down to his bare chest. A small voice inside her regretted that she hadn’t had a chance to touch it more, or taste his skin, or...
She frowned, then sat up, her desire suddenly drained out of her. “You’re bleeding,” she said, gesturing to Brad’s arm.
“I what?” He raised his head and looked at his bicep. “Oh. I guess I am, yes.” He sat up as well and reached for his discarded shirt, which he used to wipe away the rivulet of blood trickling from the corner of the long cut that curled around his arm. The cut seemed all but healed, and it stood as a pink line against Brad’s tanned skin except for the part that was bleeding.
“Is that where you were hurt last night?” she asked, her heart in her throat.
“It is, yes.” He dabbed the shirt against the cut, but the fabric was black and it was hard to tell if it was still bleeding. “Aedan healed me, but he must have missed a spot.”
And their rolling around in the grass must have reopened it, Vivien finished mentally. That, or the way she had tugged the shirt off him. Guilt made her stomach lurch a little.
“When you say he healed you... Did he use the Quickening?”
Brad shook his head. “Vampires can’t channel. He healed me with his blood.”
She wasn’t sure she cared to know about that; the less they talked about Aedan, the better, as far as she was concerned. Besides, there was something else she wanted to know.
“But is it possible to use the Quickening to heal someone?” she insisted.
“It is,” he said slowly. “Not yourself. You can’t channel at yourself, not for healing and not for anything else. But it’s possible to heal other people.”
Before she could ask whether he would let her try, he added in a somewhat wry tone, “Given what just happened, I don’t think it’d be a good idea for you to channel at me right now.”
Vivien wasn’t going to give up that easily, though. “What if I use a different emotion? It wouldn’t...loop, would it?”
“It depends. What emotion would that be?”
Vivien felt a little uncomfortable admitting it, but she felt even worse at the thought that he might bleed, be in pain, because of her.
“Guilt,” she said, meeting his eyes. “You got hurt fighting to defend me. It’s my fault—”
“Vivien, no.” He raised his hand to press two fingers to her lips and silence her. “None of it is your fault. It was my choice to fight.”
“It was mine, too,” she shot back, pushing his hand away. “And still you apologized for me.”
A tense moment passed and ended in Brad inclining his head. “I shouldn’t have,” he said, and in his eyes, she could see the truth. He wasn’t just saying it to please her; he meant it. “Sometimes it’s hard to reconcile what I feel as a QuickSilver guard and what I learned growing up on Earth. I’m sorry.”
She accepted the apology with a small nod. “Will you let me try to heal you, then? Please?”
He considered her gravely before acquiescing. “This one is tricky,” he said, shifting closer to her, like he had been when he had first instructed her. “You can’t really see the healing, just the result, so you have to focus on something more abstract.”
“Like...you being well?” she asked, trying to understand.
“Something like that. But don’t be surprised if it doesn’t work. A lot of people can’t...”
He fell silent at the moment the color drained out of everything around him. Of course, he’d be able to see Vivien channel, like she could see the colors swirl around him when he did. She tried to chase away stray thoughts and focused her guilt as one pinpoint-sharp idea. Whatever he said, she did feel guilty for his injury, like she felt guilty for Anabel being taken.
Colors rushed out of her, bursting when until now they’d only been a trickle. She tried to focus on Brad being well again, on his blood ceasing to flow from the cut, but she couldn’t tell if it was working. Frowning, she focused more intently still, imagining smooth, perfect skin instead of that long, pink scar. Under her very eyes, the scar slowly faded, as though she were airbrushing it, until nothing was left on his bicep but a trace of dry blood. This time, releasing the flow of her emotions was a little easier. She drew in a deep breath when she finished, and she reached for Brad’s arm with a shaky hand. She brushed her thumb against the blood, and it flaked away, leaving nothing but sm
ooth, warm skin under her fingers.
“Very good,” Brad said in a low, rough voice. “Thank you.”
She looked at him. His face was only inches away, his eyes darkened by dilated pupils. She couldn’t stop stroking his arm.
“Is it...is it happening again?” she asked, swallowing hard. “The loop thing?”
Brad’s hand rose to her face, and he pressed the back of his fingers to her cheek. They felt cool...or was her face too warm?
“No loop,” he said with a teasing smile. “No Quickening. Maybe you could take a dip in the lake; it would cool you down.”
Her fingers drifted over his shoulder and down to his chest, emboldened by his light touch. She pressed her hand over his heart; like she had expected, it was beating as fast as hers, as though he’d been running at full speed.
“I’m not the only one who needs to cool down,” she teased back. “Or maybe we could just kiss some more.”
Regret flashed through his eyes, and she knew exactly what he would say. She didn’t want to hear it.
“You said I’m a princess or something. Here’s what the princess decrees. You are not allowed to use the word ‘proper’ again. Ever. Especially since you admitted you like me.”
“Love,” he murmured, still stroking her cheek. “I admitted I love you.”
Vivien’s heart stammered. It’d been a long time since anyone had said those words to her, and never on a first date. She’d never kissed anyone on the first date, either. Certainly never touched them like she was touching Brad, her fingers lightly playing along his chest like they had a mind of their own. She’d definitely never slept with a man on the first date, but it was useless to pretend she didn’t want that now, even without the aphrodisiac of the Quickening flowing between them. And she’d never said ‘I love you’ that fast, either. She wasn’t sure she could say it now, not truthfully; she was attracted to him, more than she could express, but in truth she barely knew Brad—like he barely knew her.
“That’s not true,” he said when she raised that feeble protest. “I do know you. I knew you when you were four and looked up at me and Aedan like we were your big brothers and wanted to do everything like us. I knew you when you were nine and you did your end of year presentation on Nelson Mandela by yourself because all your classmates wanted to talk about singers or movie stars. When you were twelve and you participated in your first fencing competition and wouldn’t stop smiling even when you finished last. Fourteen and you were one point from losing in the regional final, and you had a sprained ankle, but kept fighting until you won. Sixteen and you went to your junior prom in a blue dress that made you look like a princess, and I wanted to be your age and dance with you instead of being a chaperon. One year later, your dress was still blue, and I wanted to kick your date in the teeth when he wouldn’t keep his hands off you. Just last month I listened to you debate with another student for ten minutes about self-sufficiency in the third world in front of forty people, like you didn’t care you had an audience. I do know you, Vivien. And I do love you. Even if I should never have told you.”
Vivien felt stunned. All these years... She had seen Brad around, a student a few years older than she was, and she’d always thought he was cute, like all her girlfriends did. She’d never thought of him that way, though, not until they began running together, and then she started falling, hard and fast.
“New rule,” she said, her words wavering a little. “You’re not allowed either to say ‘shouldn’t.’ Not if it’s about you, and me, and this.”
She leaned forward on the last word, finding his mouth again. For a second or two, he remained still under her touch, but when she caressed his lips, he angled his head to better deepen the kiss. Humming softly, Vivien pressed against him until he reclined on the grass. She lay down against his side, her body half on top of his, where she could feel all of him, all of his warmth as they continued to kiss.
It started like their first kiss, soft and sweet as they explored each other’s mouths, but soon heat sprang between them again, and the kiss turned as fiery, as wild as when they had been under the influence of the Quickening. Vivien’s hand roamed up and down Brad’s chest, her fingertips sometimes brushing against his nipples, or sometimes sliding under the edge of his pants before quickly retreating. Brad hummed every so often when her fingers became adventurous, but his own remained tamely tangled in Vivien’s hair, so still it was as if he were forcing himself not to touch her anywhere else.
Through the haze of lust that clouded her thoughts, an alarm echoed in Vivien’s mind, forcing her to pull away from Brad’s mouth. He raised his head and followed her, but finally let her break off the kiss.
“Are you sure,” she gasped, “really sure it’s not the Quickening making us act like this?”
With her hand resting above his heart, she could tell how fast it was beating, faster even than earlier, but Brad’s voice was mostly level when he said, “Look at me. Look at yourself. Do you see any trace of channeling?”
She didn’t, and still...
“Then why are we... Why can’t I stop kissing you? Touching you? I don’t do that!”
Even as she said it, all she could think about was kissing him again, letting her hand venture lower, where his pants were tenting over a prominent bulge.
“Just say the word,” Brad said, and now his voice wavered a little, “and I’ll stay twenty feet away from you for the rest of the day.”
“No,” Vivien blurted out before she even knew it. “I don’t want that. I want...you.”
Maybe she didn’t need to search for an explanation, she thought as she looked into Brad’s eyes. Maybe she just needed to accept what her heart and body were telling her.
“Kiss me,” she murmured. “Touch me.”
And Brad did.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Interruptions
Aedan had never been one to let fear control him. It had been one of the last lessons their father had taught him and Bradan: fear was the true enemy, blinding you to your options at the moment when you needed them the most. If there was one thing Aedan knew about his father, it was that he had died with no fear in his heart. Sadness, probably, that he had to abandon his family, guilt that he couldn’t accomplish his duty, but no fear.
Since promising himself that he would be as strong as his father, Aedan had let fear take him exactly twice. The first time had been when Bradan had Passed Through to the Otherworld and the link between them had all but disappeared. Never before that moment had Aedan ever felt alone in the world. The mere thought that months—years—might pass before he could see his brother again had all but paralyzed him.
The second time had been a few years later, when he had first seen Bradan after being made a vampire. Bradan, oblivious to the hunger gnawing at Aedan’s insides, had hugged him fiercely, the way they always did after spending months apart. With sheer terror flashing through him that he might not be able to control himself and bite his brother, Aedan had pulled away. He’d never dared to hug Bradan since, and always froze when Bradan hugged him.
The fear that had seized him when he had seen Dame Vivien so close to danger the previous night was just as great. His reaction as he carried her back inside was just as instinctive. Everything he was depended on her continued well-being.
She had gone outside a couple hours ago now. Had he not been so sure Bradan had found her, Aedan might have risked burning in the sunlight, as futile as it would have been. But Bradan was with her, Aedan had no doubt about it. The relief he had felt through their bond, not very long after Dame Vivien had left, was proof enough. And what Bradan had been feeling since then...
Aedan paced through the house, going from window to window, looking out and seeking a mere glance of Dame Vivien and Bradan. Every time he failed to see either of them, his fingers twitched toward his knives; he wished there had been an enemy there for him to fight. He wasn’t used to being unable to act. He also wasn’t used to feeling need and desire flow through t
he bond he shared with his twin.
There was no doubt in his mind what Bradan was doing—what Bradan and Dame Vivien were doing together—and he didn’t know how he felt about it. She was their dame, the heir to the throne, and they were her guards! How could Bradan forget that, even for a minute? She was beautiful, certainly, and she had a strong spirit, as Aedan was quickly learning, but even so, how could Bradan allow his body’s needs to rule his mind?
Unless it was more than Bradan’s body that cared for her? Could he be in love with her? It would certainly explain a lot about his behavior over the years when he had told Aedan about her, sometimes babbling for hours about what was going on in her life in the Otherworld, sometimes refusing to say much like he was keeping a secret. But even if he loved her, they had still sworn to protect her. How could Bradan expect to do that if he was so close to her?
If it had been anyone else, Aedan would have been delighted for his brother. It was more than time for him to experience love. But this… It would complicate everything, that much was certain. As though the whole situation hadn’t been difficult enough!
Aedan would need to talk to Bradan about this. It promised to be an awkward conversation. If not for the bond, he wouldn’t even have known. For now, he tried to put the matter out of his mind, tried not to wonder what they were doing exactly, but try as he might his mind continued to flash toward them, throwing at him imagined flashes of what Dame Vivien might look like in the flush of passion, her breasts heaving, her mouth plump and red from burning kisses, naked and beautiful on a bed of petals not quite as soft as her skin...
Shaking his head, Aedan pushed away from the window he had been staring out of to no avail. He had to find something to occupy his mind or he would drive himself crazy. He refused to even acknowledge his erection; it stemmed from Bradan’s emotions, not Aedan’s own, and it would have felt crass to act on it.