Violette Dubrinsky

by Under a Crescent Moon

  “You say that about every dress.”

  Azaleigh smirked as she unbuttoned his pants, and undid his zipper. He stepped from them. When she moved to pick those up, Victor pulled her into his arms, running his hands up the backs of her thighs.

  “Because every dress looks like it was made for you.” He continued, freezing when his hand touched the bare, smooth skin of her buttocks. To be certain, he moved his fingers to the dip of her back, and grinned at the smoothness he encountered.

  “You’re not wearing any panties.”

  Burying her face against his chest, Azaleigh squeaked as he lightly slapped a round cheek. “I was waiting for you.”

  “I’m not complaining.” In one smooth move, he pulled the T-shirt up, and when she lifted her hands, tossed it across the room. “That’s better.”

  Victor led her to the bed, spreading her thighs over the edge and kneeling eagerly before her. All of his anger had disappeared. Seeing her naked made him forget everything but the two of them. His tongue parted the two halves of her wet lips first. He never tired of the heady, sweet taste that was her.

  “Victor!”

  His name was a low moan as flicked his tongue over the small nub he loved teasing. Her juices flowed freely from her body, and he eagerly lapped at it before returning to her clitoris. When she began to shake, the little tremors alerting him of her oncoming orgasm, he roughly pushed two fingers inside. She screamed, her fingers finding their way into his hair as her breasts heaved. He loved looking at her from this vantage point, seeing, tasting, and smelling her reaction as he loved her.

  She came when he sucked hard on her clit and twisted his fingers in her body, and after a few conciliatory laps, he moved up her body, prepared to pleasure her with his aching cock. As his tongue plunged into her mouth, Azaleigh moaned and eagerly kissed him back. He was lining up with her slippery heat when she pulled away. “No, Victor. I want to taste you.”

  He went rigid at the thought of her lips around his sex, but allowed her to push him onto his back. They’d never done this before, though not for lack of her trying. He was usually too desperate for her, and once he’d had a taste, was ready to pound away inside her body and taste her blood.

  As both of her hands engulfed him, Victor moaned. He tossed an arm over his eyes and willed himself not to come.

  “You’re so big, Victor.” Her hot breath fanned the head of his shaft, and he jumped when her tongue, rough but so soft, swirled his angry tip. “I didn’t realize you were this big.” Soft lips closed over his head, and she gradually moved down, her wet mouth sucking at him as her fingers slowly pumped him.

  His hand slid into her thick hair, pulling her head further down. Victor heard her gag, but she stayed steady, lowering her head a bit further before coming up for air.

  “Victor,” she murmured softly, licking the underside in one long, never-ending lick. “Victor, look at me.”

  She placed her tongue directly over his opening, and waited. With reluctance, he removed the hand he’d thrown over his eyes and stared at his siren, naked, a smile on her face as she teased him mercilessly.

  “You taste so good, Victor,” Azaleigh murmured, pink lips smacking when she sucked him into her mouth once more. Molasses-colored eyes held his as she groaned around him, almost sending him into convulsions.

  “That’s enough, baby.” His voice was a growl. Victor couldn’t take more. He sat up, and grabbed her, pulling her away from him and onto her knees in the center of the bed.

  “But I wasn’t finished—”

  He smacked her buttocks and glared at her in the headboard mirror. “You were being a tease.”

  Azaleigh grinned slowly, exactly like what he’d called her. She used one hand to reach under her body and touch herself as she waited for him. Knowing his entry was tricky in this position, he pushed forward slowly, allowing her body to relax around him before feeding her tight sheath more, and then more. He loved this position because of the mirror. Victor could see every sigh of pleasure, every rippling moan, and every line in her forehead when her climax rode her as hard as he did.

  As both of her hands returned to the bed, he gripped her hips and began thrusting. Azaleigh lifted her head and stared at him in the mirror, moaning, whimpering, closing her eyes, biting her lips. He came down over her back and palmed one of her breasts, pinching the hardened tip as his hips continued their furious pace.

  Her hand moved back, tightening on his hips as she urged him on. Her orgasm was coming. He could see it in her strained face, her soundless cry. He squeezed her breast harder, rode her faster, and the moment she peaked, he leaned across and bit into her neck, pushing her directly from one release into another.

  ***

  She took him into her body twice more after that. When Victor finally fell asleep, she was sore, but it still didn’t feel like it was enough. Crawling onto him, Azaleigh stared at his face in repose. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, but had a personality to match it. When he’d been her zombie Protector, he’d been sensitive, a bit shy, and so sweet. As her vampire lover, the shy had gone out the window, but the intensity had come in, leaving her breathless and in awe most days.

  Azaleigh cupped his cheek, cool to the touch as he always was unless they were intimate. Leaning down, she kissed his lips, and murmured against them. “I love you.” She moved to his right cheek. “I’m sorry.” To his left. “Thank you.”

  As she pushed up, a droplet fell to his cheek, and she hastily wiped her tears.

  She couldn’t stay here. Azaleigh had thought about it. A lot. He’d withheld taking her back to Hallows Brook when the choice had been his, so it was obvious he wanted her to stay. A few of the blood slaves, the ones who were more curious than afraid of her, had mentioned asking their Masters to turn them and she’d found out it meant becoming a vampire, not a pure-blood, but still, vampire. Night Walker. If Victor turned her, she’d be able to be with him permanently, possibly bear him children. She’d thought of a life of permanent night, without the sun’s rays lighting her body, leaving everything she knew behind, including her mother, and even for Victor, had found she couldn’t submit. She’d never realized before how much she needed the sun, needed the light and the things that thrived under it. And that very same light would kill him.

  This was the best thing for both of them.

  A haunting knock, soft and secretive, sounded sometime later. Azaleigh brushed her lips once more over her Victor’s, glanced to the folded note on the pillow and left.

  ***

  Azaleigh followed Rachel’s advice, booking the next flight out. As if the hounds of hell were on her heels, she packed her suitcases, closed the house, and found herself on the four o’clock American Airlines flight from Hartsfield-Jackson International to JFK. She was in her New York apartment by the time the sun set, and Azaleigh froze, watching the golden-red rays retreat behind tall buildings as darkness descended.

  Victor would be up by now, wondering where she was. He’d read her letter and grow angry, but he’d understand. Eventually.

  Needing something to keep her mind from the vampire she’d left in Savannah, Azaleigh checked through her mail, finding a thin envelope from the New York State Board of Examiners. Inside, she found news that made her smile. She’d passed the Bar. She was now able to practice in three states.

  She turned and froze, remembering she was no longer in Georgia. There was no Victor to share the news with. Some of her excitement faded as she looked at the cold writing on the paper, hoping she’d made the right choice.

  ***

  When Victor awoke, he knew she was gone. Sunshine was no longer with him, leaving him to face the cold night alone. He found the letter and read it. An angry snarl formed on his face.

  To my vampire lover—

  If you’re reading this, I’m gone. Don’t search for me, Victor. Please. Don’t go to Hallows Brook because I’m not there either. You and I are too different for anything to come from this. I need the d
ay, and you need the night. I would never fit into your world, nor you in mine. I couldn’t tell you this to your face but I want you know I think you’re a great guy, and are going to make some lucky vampire very happy. Thank you for everything you’ve taught me.

  Love,

  Azaleigh

  When he was through, he searched out his mother. Barging into his parents’ room, despite the two hulking guards who attempted to keep him out, he averted his eyes from their naked, tangled bodies as he raged. “Where is she?”

  There was a feminine screech and a masculine grunt before Dorian’s booming words rent the air, anger rolling from each syllable in thick waves. “Boy, when I get dressed, I’m gonna beat the manners into you you’ve obviously forgotten.”

  “No, Dorian! Please! Wait!”

  Victor heard a rustle and looked up to find his mother wrapped in a silk sheet, hair wild about her head and cheeks flushed, with a restraining hand on his father’s chest.

  “Listen to me, Victor. She isn’t worth it. She’s a blood slave, a witch—”

  “I didn’t ask your opinion, Mother.” Victor knew they were somehow involved. There was no way Azaleigh could have left this veritable fortress without his parents knowing. “Where is she?”

  Dorian tried to move again, but once more, Rachel attempted to hold him down. “Please, my love. Don’t.” She turned to Victor once more and he could see twin trails of blood running past her collarbone from the puncture wounds in her neck. “Go back to your room, Victor. I’ll dress and come to you there.”

  “Now?”

  Rachel’s green eyes narrowed to slits as she glared at him. “Yes, Victor! Now go!”

  Tossing a final glare to a fuming Dorian, Victor stormed out.

  ***

  He went to Hallows Brook anyway. Rachel admitted to helping Azaleigh leave but she’d insisted it had been at the witch’s insistence. Briefly, the thought that something had happened to Azaleigh at his mother’s hand entered Victor’s mind, but just as quickly he dismissed it. Azaleigh wouldn’t have addressed the letter to him the way she did if Rachel had forced her.

  When he arrived in the town he’d usually seen in the daytime, Victor felt a pang of regret. He’d tried to leave just before sunset, and had ended up needing to re-grow the outer layer of his skin. Even now, it felt raw. Hurrying to Antoinette’s place, he used the spare key under the flower pot on the porch to enter.

  It was empty. Rachel hadn’t been lying to keep him away. Azaleigh was gone. He didn’t need to check upstairs, or turn on any lights to know that. The house was still. Dead. Her scent was a distant memory. Collapsing into a cushioned chair in the sitting room, he stared into the woods behind the house. His nose burned, and he fisted his hair and closed his eyes as pain overtook his body. Once, when he’d been a teenager and had broken his back riding a wild horse at night, he’d felt pain this great: all-consuming. Stifling. It had taken days for his back to heal. Victor wondered how long his heart would take.

  He had no way to contact her, to find her. If she’d been like him, a vampire, he would be able to trace her through a blood-bond, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t even a human he could manipulate and call back to his side, but a witch who could effortlessly hide from him.

  Something wet dropped onto his hand and he stared at the red line running to his elbow. He hadn’t even cried when he’d broken his back. Pushing himself from the chair, he washed his face in the kitchen sink, drying it with paper towels.

  Obviously, Azaleigh didn’t feel for him as he did her. If she had, she would have talked to him before she left. He would have thought of something, some way for them to be together.

  Antoinette had liked a saying similar to that. ’s long’s you’ve got will, you’ve got way, son.

  What Antoinette had done was unforgivable, but standing in her kitchen, remembering the short, thin woman teaching him to cook and bake, showing him the world through fresh eyes, made her less evil. Sunlight was something he’d never felt before Antoinette and the memory of the gentle, and at times punishing warmth, would always haunt him.

  “Why’d you do it, Antoinette?” he hissed to the dark kitchen. “You knew I was coming to bring peace, so why?”

  Knowing there were no answers for him in Hallows Brook anymore, Victor tossed the wadded-up paper towels into the bin and locked the front door as he left.

  Chapter 10

  It took Azaleigh less than a month to find a job as an associate at a big-law firm. Brian Karr, of Karr, Litchstein and Wiesler, was her stepfather’s golf buddy, and though it galled her to accept the pulled strings, Azaleigh did it because she had no choice. Her bills were mounting. She hadn’t used Richard Epstein’s money to pay her law school tuition despite his generous offer, had preferred to take her own loans, and although she had the sizable sum of money she’d inherited from Antoinette, Azaleigh didn’t touch it. In fact, she tried not to think of Antoinette, her money, her house, or the beautiful, vampire lover left in Savannah.

  It took her less than two weeks to quit. She didn’t want to defend the big companies with their in-house, city, and local counsels, she wanted to defend the little people. Within the month, she found another job with two attorneys, Scott Havers and Michael Dale, dealing with bad drywall in the Southern states and a potential class-action suit against a major supplier in China.

  The job ended up taking her directly back to Hallows Brook, Georgia. If that wasn’t fate, Azaleigh didn’t know what was. It seemed most of the town used the supplier, GNX Drywall, and she had to depose everyone who’d used their goods and have each of the house suspected of bad drywall inspected.

  She’d recently moved most of her things down to Antoinette’s house in Hallows Brook—she’d be here for at least six months—and was looking for space to store some of the boxes. The basement held too many memories, so when she located an attic she’d missed before, as it was hidden in what seemed like a spare closet in Antoinette’s bedroom, Azaleigh was ecstatic. Once she pulled on the trapdoor, a ladder dropped down, and she climbed up, sneezing at the dust in the place.

  There was a lone chair in the corner, and as she squinted against the sunlight shooting in a side window, she saw a folded note on it. Strange. At first, it had seemed like nothing but a shaft of sunlight was there. The note was dusty, so it had been there for a long time. Untying the knitting yarn that held it closed, she opened the letter and stared at neat, but unfamiliar writing.

  1st October, 1996

  Dear Azaleigh Christina Montclaire—

  If you’re reading this, I am longer in the world of the living, and you’ve met him. Victor. You probably know by now he’s not a typical Protector. Years ago, a Night Walker prince came to me speaking of peace. He was different from the rest, optimistic of the world, and as I sat with him, I had a vision. You weren’t born yet, Azaleigh, your own mother was just a baby, and yet I saw you, a beautiful woman laughing with Victor in the sunlight. So I cast a spell, and I lured him to this very house, where I turned him from one creature to the other. Night Walkers cannot walk in sunlight, and my vision had you two doing that. I changed him, though not fully—it isn’t possible to kill one side of a creature and replace it with another—to my Blooded Protector, and when I die, I’ve made it so he will be yours. The spell I cast is not in the spell book. I’ve long since torn out the pages, and you must never put it there. I’ve written it below in case you need it, but after you read this letter, you must burn it. The spell is powerful, and in the hands of witches with wavering loyalties, it will cause destruction.

  Azaleigh paused, and saw at the bottom of the paper were the actions, and ingredients needed for the spell. Returning her eyes to where she’d left off, she continued.

  Please explain to Victor that he was the son I never had, explain to him that there wasn’t a day I saw him I didn’t feel regret for what I’d done. If there was any other way, Victor, I would have taken it. Forgive me.

  I pray I was right and you two found each ot
her.

  Love,

  An Old Lady with the Gift of Sight.

  Shock made Azaleigh re-read the letter. Antoinette had had a vision thirty-nine years ago, about her and Victor? And what did she mean in case she needed the spell? Did the woman think she’d need another Protector?

  I pray I was right and you two found each other.

  The line made Azaleigh’s foot begin to shake nervously. What did she mean by it? Obviously, they’d found each other. There seemed to be deeper meaning to the sentence.

  Making her way down to the second floor with the letter in hand, Azaleigh allowed herself to really think of Victor, for the first time since she’d left him. It had been almost three months since she’d seen him. The first week was the hardest. She’d even gone through her mother’s received call numbers to see if she could get his home phone number from it. It was the act of a desperate, confused woman, but luckily, she’d come to her senses before she found it.

  Had he found someone else? A Night Walker princess to be his future queen? She’d attempted to date to get her mind off him. Job-hunting hadn’t been enough of a distraction, and she’d tried to see if there was anything between Adam Jermaine and herself. They were both entry level associates, with pretty much the same backgrounds and definitely the same goals. The kiss had been lackluster, the equivalent of scratching dirt from under her toenail. They’d agreed to be friends.

  Had Victor done the same, and succeeded? Had he found someone to replace her?

  As if in answer, the door bell rang. Was this another blast of fate? The thought entered her mind as she ran down the stairs and pulled open the door, forgetting it was still daylight out and Victor couldn’t be calling during these times.