I breathily whispered, “Michel.” And received a purr from the back of his throat in reply.
He still gripped my hands, but now I was pushing my body up towards him, wrapping my legs around his waist and holding him tight. He groaned against me, removing his hand from my hair, tracing down my side, down past my breast, over my hip, to my short skirt, which he somehow managed to rip off me, with a small lift of his hips and a flick of his wrist and a smattering of Sanguis Vitam. Before I'd even realised he'd gotten rid of it, his body was against me again, his erection obvious through his trousers, pushing against my underwear. His hand returning to my top, feeling his way slowly up my stomach, finding my breast and taking his time tweaking it, stroking it, kneading it.
I moaned and he shuddered in response. Removing his fangs and licking where he had bit me. He still gripped my hands, seemingly reluctant to let them go just yet; a small ache had started in my shoulders, unable to shift them only making it worse.
“My arms,” I whispered.
He lifted his head and looked at me, amethyst and indigo swirling in his eyes.
“I don't think so. You are still mine,” he breathed against me before his mouth met mine in a rough crush of lips and teeth and tongue, almost trying to climb inside me, to get closer to me, to eat me.
He pulled away to let me breathe and I took my chance. “You've won, Michel. The car stays, but this wasn't part of the deal.”
He didn't let me go, just ground against me, circling his hips in a little dance, body to body.
“You don't want me?” His eyebrows raised in mock shock. He knew damn well I wanted him. I would always want him, regardless of any negative emotions I may harbour, as soon as he touched me all thoughts of elsewhere were always lost.
“Let me have my arms and I'll show you how much.” I held his gaze.
“Not tonight, ma petite lumière. Not this time. You have made the game too sweet, to end it just yet.”
I stared at him. “What are you playing now?”
“My game, my rules. I'm taking my prize.” And his hand came up under my top, grabbing it at the neckline and tearing it slowly down the front, baring my chest to him, save for my bra.
Oh dear God, he meant it.
His head came down and he kissed the crease between my breasts, nibbling a little, until he found the edge of the bra and began to worry at it, bite it and I knew what would come next; his fangs to rip it.
“Not the bra, they cost a fortune.” But my voice wasn't all that convincing.
“I'll buy you more. I promise,” he growled between his teeth and bit harder. The bra snapped open and his mouth didn't pause, wrapping around a nipple and lavishing it with licks and nibbles and kisses. The pull of his mouth making me rise up towards him.
I thought he'd just stop there, kissing me, sucking me, licking me, but he was obviously on a whole new level than I had ever been, because I felt his fangs scrape either side of my areola and then pierce the sensitive skin on my breast.
I'd always thought vampires needed larger veins to feed: arteries in the neck, upper thigh, arm, wrist. And I'm not even sure if what he was doing was feeding right now, maybe he was marking me. He'd already marked me at my neck, his signature that any other vampire could read with a glance, marking me as his own. But here, on my breast, so much more intimate, so much more private, I had no idea what he was doing, but he was enjoying it. And so was I, so maybe it was because I had accepted it, this moment of surprise, that I didn't stop him, didn't say anything and just let him feed, mark, have his way with me. But I didn't stop him. I just said his name, almost a plea, not to stop.
Without even realising it - I must have lost a few minutes there - he had removed my underwear and somehow unsheathed himself from his trousers and he was now pressing at my entrance, so hot and firm, just there, no further. He licked where his fangs had been on my breast and studied the mark he had left, smiling. I vaguely thought, so mark not feed then, before he thrust slowly against my entrance taking away any intelligent thought I may have had. He was big and hard and so damn good. Sometimes, he felt almost too big. But, I moaned and arched my back and welcomed him greedily inside me.
“You are so wet, ma douce,” he groaned against me, pulling out, almost completely and then slowly, tortuously thrusting back inside. Then he repeated it all over again.
I whimpered, wanting more of him. Wanting a faster pace. Harder thrusts. But he continued to deny me, slowing his movements down even further. Refusing to enter me all the way. “Michel," I begged. He chuckled. "Please. Oh God! Please!”
With that he thrust inside me with a cry of need until he was as deep as he could go. It took me by surprise, I had expected him to play the game a little longer and not give in to my demands. But those thoughts were lost in amongst the beauty of the moment and I let myself luxuriate in the feel of him. All of him. He pulled out slowly again and entered with more control, but I bucked beneath him, calling out his name and he caved and started moving more forcefully, pushing me wide, stretching me uncomfortably, but making his way faster and faster, in and out, in and out, inch by inch further. Until I was drowning in the feel of him.
His mouth claimed mine, his hips thrusting against me. My hands still held firmly in one of his above my head, the other stroking my side, fondling my breast. And the flutter in my stomach turned to a tightness and heat, spreading its warmth up my body, down to my core and lifting me up on a wave I couldn't fight - didn't want to fight - until we both came crashing down the other side. Michel calling out in victory as he slammed into me one final time and at last released my hands and collapsed against the floor beside me, pulling my body to him, wrapping one of his arms around my waist and the other under my head.
We lay there quietly for a while, just the feel of our sweat-soaked bodies against each other, listening to the thumping of our hearts and trying to catch our runaway breaths.
Finally, my head cleared and my heart settled and I found I could actually form a string of words into a sentence after all.
“You marked me again, didn't you?”
His hand went to my breast, tracing his mark. “Yes,” he whispered against me.
I didn't know what to say. Michel had wanted me to mark him, to give him my Sigillum, for a long time, but I had been tricked into sharing Sigillum with Gregor, a master vampire and member of the vampire council, the Iunctio. I hadn't realised what I was doing at the time and how precious it was. And now I shared a connection to Gregor that was hard to fight. I never wanted to give my Sigillum away again, unless I truly meant it. And here Michel was, marking me with his Sigillum for a second time. What do you say to that? Thanks. You shouldn't have. But, here's the thing, you can't be marked unless you accept it and I know I wasn't thinking straight at the time, but I had accepted Michel biting me there, I'd even thought he may be marking me and not feeding from me, so in essence, I had acquiesced.
At least I could cover this one up more easily than the neck. I would always have two marks on my neck, one from Michel and one from Gregor, visible to any vampire who cares to see. Somehow, I kind of liked that this mark was just between me and Michel, no one else. No one else at all.
“Thank you.” It just came out.
“I would give you the world, ma douce, this” - his fingers still tracing his mark - “is only my heart.”
Chapter 6
Lambton Quay
We managed to make it back to Michel's chamber without coming across any wayward vamps - well, aside from Erika, who had been guarding the door, unbeknown to me. I had covered myself up in Michel's white shirt - it was almost long enough to be a dress - all of my clothes were ruined. Michel really did owe me a new wardrobe. So, I was at least clothed, but even that couldn't stop the blush flowing up my cheeks when she smirked at us as we passed.
At least she'd managed to grab another top, but she was still barefoot and the blood had dried on her face from our fight. The nose did look healed though.
�
��Sorry about your nose,” I mumbled when I spotted her.
“Don't worry, chica, I'll take it out of your hide at first training tomorrow. That is of course, if you're feeling up to it. It sounded like quite a sparring session in there. You must be real tired.” She exaggerated the tired.
Michel just growled, but it wasn't his usual scare tactics, more for my benefit than hers and it just made Erika smile more.
Back in his chambers I realised I was tired. Once again, it had been a long night. First Rick and Jerome, followed by exerting my Light all over the club. Then the faux fighting of Erika and Michel, and of course the rest, you know, the horizontal mumbo jumbo, so I was yawning by the time we'd shut the door. It was only 2am, according to the bedside clock, normally I would have stayed up longer on a Friday. You never know when I'd feel the pull, that evil-lurks-in-my-city pull, but I was shattered.
Michel kissed me on the forehead and suggested a bath and early night. I would have gone back to my place, but that would have meant taking the car and considering how tired I was, I just couldn't face that hurdle. I would honour our deal, he had won fair and square, the car was now mine, but despite that mental acknowledgement, I wasn't quite ready to physically drive it. That seemed to be the final step in accepting Michel and I had more than just a joined kindred relationship.
So, Michel left me to it and I dutifully ran a mandarin bubble overload bath and settled in to soak away the aches and pains and bumps and bruises. Normally, Michel would have healed me, but we both seemed to just forget at that moment, I was sure he'd be able to attend to it later, when he also retired for the day.
I must have fallen asleep, not a good thing to do whilst in the bath, but my head was resting back on one of those padded pillows on the edge of the bath and I was floating so comfortably, that I managed to relax enough, to feel safe enough, to fall asleep, because the next thing I knew, I was Dream Walking.
Usually when I Dream Walk it's a conscious thing, a controlled thing. I lay myself down with the intention of Dream Walking to someone or something and I allow my mind to fall into that black nothingness I seem to be able to find and I simply appear where ever it is I am wanting to be. I appear as I lay myself down, so usually in hunter gear with stake in hand, but I am invisible to those around me. They can't see me or sense me or even hear me, unless I talk, so it's a nifty little power, one I have utilised when needed to take out the bad guys and hit them totally unawares.
I don't abuse it, it's usually for a life and death type situation and the bad guys are usually reeking evil, so my conscience is clear on the they can't see me front. They are vampires and they are evil. It's a war. End of story.
But, there has been a couple of occasions where I have not been in control of the Dream Walk. Those times have been controlled by another. Gregor. He had sworn he would not call me in a Dream Walk again, for fear I had already Walked once that night. Two Dream Walks in one night will leave me unconscious for three days. Not a good thing. So, Gregor had been behaving himself. But not tonight it would seem.
I woke to the cold air of a Wellington evening/early morning and the sounds of a nearby fight. The first thing I realised, after figuring out I had Dream Walked unintentionally, was I didn't have a stake. I hadn't had one nearby when I fell asleep, so I didn't have one now. The second thing I realised, was that I was buck naked and dripping in mandarin smelling bubbles and foam.
Oh, for the love of Christ, how do I end up in these situations!
“Lucinda?” It was a whisper, nearby, interspersed with a grunt and the sounds of a fist hitting something solid.
I spun around to see where Gregor was when he'd said my name and spotted him and about three other vampires and alarmingly a fair bit of vampire dust floating around their feet, fighting for their lives with about a dozen humans, all armed with rudimentary silver stakes. What the hell?
You called? I sent my thoughts with sarcasm towards him. Gregor can read my thoughts, but only if I send them or shout them in my head. He can't talk back, only Michel can do that, but trust me, reading my thoughts is more than enough trouble.
I heard Gregor mutter, “Shit!” My foul mouth attitude was rubbing off on him lately. He was just as suave and eloquent as Michel, swearing was a relatively new language skill, courtesy of me. But, it did tell me one thing, he hadn't realised he'd called me to him.
Well, I was here now, despite being inconveniently naked, they couldn't see me - well Gregor could, kind of. But it was really just a sense of my aura, a sense of me, not really visible, but quite unfortunate all the same - but they needed my help. They were outnumbered and it looked like they'd lost some of their group. Not good.
I wasn't armed, but then I don't tend to stake humans anyway and I am much stronger than they are, so a little hand to hand combat was called for. I could still kick their butts with my bare - that's very bare - hands and only my sparkling wit and attitude.
I came up behind one at the back, he was doubled over having obviously felt the cold hard strength of a master vampire and was trying to recover while his friends covered for him. They had cornered Gregor and his kin at the end of a dark brick alley, ironic don't you think? The first time I met Gregor he'd had a Nosferatin cornered at the end of an alley and was tucking in to dinner by the time I arrived. And here he was on the receiving end. I love Karma.
I tapped the human guy on the shoulder and he spun around to look at who was there. Of course, he couldn't see me, but he could hear me if I talked, so I leaned forward and whispered, loud enough to be heard over the battle raging behind him.
“It's a bit late to be out brawling, isn't it?”
“What? Who said that?” His head was scanning the alley back towards Lambton Quay, his eyes wide with fear and uncertainty.
I'd figured we were in vamp central as soon as I arrived, not far in fact from the club Michel had established recently, to house and occupy his Wellington based vampires. He had been compensated for his investment when the Iunctio threw him out of this city. It was just his ego that had suffered, not his wallet.
“Look. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, you are human after all,” I said conversationally. “Grab your buds and get outta here. This isn't your fight.”
He seemed to think about that for a moment, then his whole demeanour changed, a snarl appearing on his somewhat handsome face, ruining the effect of his looks completely.
“I don't know who the fuck you are, or where the fuck you are, but this is our fight. No vampires in Wellington!” He spat the last, thankfully I was far enough away not to wear it.
Oh boy. I guess I was meeting the humans against vampire portion of the Windy City's population. Vampires are not known to the larger public, but here and there you have sympathisers, those willing to aid and offer their blood up for food. But, lately, Wellington has had a run of humans killing vampires. It was part of the reason Michel had been chucked out by the Iunctio. They were not happy it had not been solved, so they had sent in their Enforcer, Gregor, to investigate and clean up. Do whatever it took to cover this up from the general public, before it got further out of hand. I'm guessing, so far, Gregor was having the same troubles Michel had, little success at all.
Well, I couldn't leave this as it was. Gregor and his vampires were in trouble and whether these humans had a right to fight or not, they couldn't just kill vampires willy-nilly. No, that was my job and those of my kind.
“Sorry mate, but this has to stop.” I struck out before he had a chance to answer with a simple front kick to his face, making his head snap back and his eyes roll up in his skull and forcing him backwards onto his back on the ground. Bugger. I forget my own strength sometimes. I quickly leaned down and checked his pulse; still strong, still regular, just out cold.
I jumped out of the way as one of his mates ran to check him and then the shit hit the proverbial fan. Panic ensued, the humans going batshit crazy, slashing out at the vampires, because they thought it was their super speed that had allowed
them to get to their man and they hadn't even been able to see it to stop it. Their anger fuelling their actions, making them equally dangerous and reckless at the same time. Stakes were slashing, landing here and there, but not full heart strikes, just deep gouges and tears in vampire flesh. The vamps were taking a beating and even with their combined supernatural strength, they were unable to stop this number of crazed humans on a rampage.
Time for plan B.
I danced up behind the back of the humans, sucked in a deep breath and spun. I usually reserve this move for vampires and I usually have a stake in hand. This time no stake and definitely no vampires, but the result was just as effective. I landed next to one human and flicked out a roundhouse kick, followed by a sweep of their legs and then a straight jab at their nose. Then in a spilt second, after making those moves in a blur, I was off to the next. Repeating my actions all over again. I managed to take out five before they realised they were in serious trouble. They also realised it wasn't the vamps in front of them doing the damage, but something altogether never heretofore seen.
It's a little scary when you first realise there are actually monsters of the night. We've all read the Fairy-tales, read the urban fantasy novels, we've heard of Bram Stoker and Dracula, we're almost prepared for all of that. But, something that strikes with a speed you can't even comprehend and is also invisible, can make a grown man whimper. They couldn't see me, they couldn't hear me, I just took one out after the other in little more than ten seconds flat. I only stopped, because they had stopped. No longer fighting the vamps, but turning their backs to them and facing the new, bigger, more evil threat behind them.
Forbidden Drink Page 6