Rhemy: Immortal Forsaken Series #4 (Paranormal Romance Novella)

by Verika Sloane

  Inch by inch, he entered her, softly cursing in French as he finally sank in.

  Taelour closed her eyes. It felt incredible. She pushed her hips up, and he pressed a hand to her hip, hissed, and started moving with measured thrusts. His mouth skimmed over face and down her neck. He murmured words she couldn’t make out, but sensed they were loving and sweet. They rocked together, both panting, holding on to one another.

  Rhemy ran a palm from her thigh to her breast, kneading it tenderly, circling it with the pad of his thumb. Frissons of pleasure crawled through blood. She bowed her back and he dipped his head, licking the tip, sucking, then licking again.

  He was in no hurry, and she yearned for him to love her body as long as he wanted. She explored his physique, feeling muscles moving beneath him. And when he finally started to increase his thrusts, she grabbed his ass, feeling it clench.

  “I want to ride you.”

  He slid an arm under her back and brought her with him as he sat up. “Yes, Taelour. Baise-moi.”

  She didn’t speak French, but she knew what that meant. She wrapped her legs around his waist and bucked her hips as he buried his head in her chest, moaning. He squeezed her breasts together, mouthing one nipple, then another, scraping his unshaven jaw along the tender skin. Every part of her felt loved. She cried out, riding him faster.

  “Oh, my gods...” He grabbed her ass, digging his fingers in, gritting his teeth.

  A sensation overpowered Taelour. A maddening one she’d never felt before with a lover. Ever. Her teeth came down sharp, pulsing for blood. The craving to bite was uncontrollable, in line with the rush starting between her thighs.

  She was going to come, and she was going to take.

  Eyes rolling back, she gripped the back of his head, trying to resist. She should ask first, but the words stuck in her throat, the urge irresistible, unstoppable.

  “Give me blood,” she begged in a ragged whisper. Before he could respond, she blindly sank her teeth in his vein.

  Rhemy’s body jerked. He let out a shocked yell, locking his arms around her waist.

  His blood filled her mouth like a shot of adrenaline, hot and rich. Deeper, she dug in. Her turned black, vision gone, and her hunger multiplied, forcing her to drink more and more.

  But he didn’t tell her stop.

  He moved her to her back, but she held on, continuing to plunge between her thighs.

  Rhemy cursed again, groaning loud as she drank.

  And a feeling so brand new, but so blissful, rushed through her veins, paralyzing her. Eyes wide, she released his neck, his blood sliding from the corners of her mouth, the orgasm bursting through and blitzing through her brain. Tears streamed from her eyes, the emotions too powerful and foreign to decipher.

  Time shifted. Every thrust of him inside her seemed to happen in slow motion, his groans were like echoes, her own breathing sounding as though it was coming from another place. She felt high, drugged, sleepy, and as though she was underwater. His name came out of her mouth but was sluggish and questioning.

  Then, like a switch, everything resumed to a normal speed.

  Rhemy gazed into her eyes, wiping the tears away, slowing.

  “Taelour.”

  Oh, gods. What did she do?

  Seconds later, he shuddered, pushed up, and came inside her with a groan.

  She stared up at the ceiling, in disbelief, trying to catch her breath.

  They did have a connection, and it was only getting more complicated. She wasn’t his fated, and therefore they could never be more than lovers in the eyes of anyone, especially the gods, unless they avowed.

  Her heart, while still racing, broke just a little at the thought.

  Perhaps that was a good thing.

  Despite his declaration to find a way for them to go to the Centurias, she sensed if she’d been his fated, that would never happen.

  Because as a lover, he was willing to stand by her side, but as her fated, he would only stand in her way.

  When Taelour woke up later, her teeth were sharp the second she opened her eyes, the sound of Rhemy’s pulsing vein reverberating in her ear.

  The sheet lay just under his navel, showing a peek of the trimmed, dark hair below, and the head of his cock. Even while he slept, he was erect. She couldn’t resist staring at him for a while, marveling at his masculine beauty, every part of him turning her on.

  She reached out and tenderly rubbed her hand along the sheet where his cock was, and he stirred with a moan, but didn’t wake. Unable to resist, she moved down and pulled the sheet away.

  She kissed his hip, wrapped her hand around his cock, and licked the head. She forced her teeth back to normal.

  Rhemy moaned, then moaned louder. “Taelour. What are you do—ah, merde.”

  She sucked his head and stroked the shaft, slowly, feeling it twitch and stiffen almost instantly. He hissed and moved his hips, muttering incoherently. She got on her knees and bent over to lick him even better, and the second her naked ass was in the air, he was caressing it, rubbing his fingers along her wet slit.

  Up and down she worked his cock while he lightly tapped her ass and fingered her pussy, distracting her. She moaned, trying to concentrate on him when he just kept distracting her with his wandering hands.

  “Come here, sugar,” he said hoarsely. “I want to taste you.”

  She did as told, straddled him backward, positioning her sex above his face, before going down on him again.

  “Goddamn. My perfect little peach.” He chartered her ass with his hands, licked her, then squeezed her cheeks.

  Holy fuck, did he know what she liked. She squeezed her eyes, desperate to keep her teeth from descending and nicking his cock. Faster she sucked and twisted, determined to make him come before she did. His tongue was wicked good though, and he moved his mouth like a grateful man licking his favorite dessert.

  No one had paid so much attention to her pussy like that. She arched, pulling her mouth off to cry out, but continued to stroke him. She couldn’t help it. She was going to come.

  In a haze, she put her mouth back on him, taking him in deep, and he cried out, cursed, and resumed giving her the best oral ever. When her body could take no more, Taelour gave in and clenched her knees, the pleasure overwhelming. She threw back her head, screaming.

  Rhemy clamped his hands on her thighs, tightened like a bow, and released his come in hot, full spurts.

  She collapsed on her back, her head on the end of the bed, near his feet.

  After a few seconds, he changed position to join her, wiping her hand with a tissue he’d grabbed off the nightstand.

  “Thank you,” she smiled. “Are your neighbors going to call the cops? As you’ve heard twice now, I’m a bit of a noisemaker.”

  “Yes, you are.” He kissed her hand. “I love that I can make you do that. But don’t worry, I own this block, and it’s mostly businesses around here. They’re closed this time of night. Besides, human cops stopped coming ’round here a long time ago.”

  “You own the buildings on each side?”

  “For a while now.” He tossed the tissue to a wastebasket. “I like that I don’t have to contend with anyone. I had to have a place for my gambling joint, and I rent out the space in one building for storage, and if a friend of mine needs a place to hide out, they can stay in one of the apartments in the building at the end. That’s where most of the band members live.”

  Taelour blinked. He’d said his fortune and world was considerably smaller since he gave up the luxe hotel, which led her to believe he was living a modest, though comfortable life. Obviously, “smaller” was an understatement. His apartment alone was probably worth half a million, with its river view and proximity to the French Quarter. He owned an entire block, for crying out loud.

  She was once again reminded of the differences between them. He was a fateblood. She was not. They would never be blessed with children. The gods would only grant that to his fated. The one they’d chosen for him.


  Taelour yearned for a big family, like the one she grew up in. To do that, she’d have to find another pürblood. Also, it was clear Rhemy had money and prestige in New Orleans, despite his tarnished status in the prestigious underworld community. She had neither money nor status, and he would definitely despise her roughneck brothers. She just knew it.

  The two of them were so blatantly mismatched. Yet…despite it all, could she be with him anyway?

  The answer was an easy no.

  Rhemy caught the emotion of dismay coming over her. “Something wrong?”

  “No.” She pushed it aside, forcing out the melancholy, feeling lust take over once more. “I’m glad I got that cab.”

  “What cab?”

  “The one with the jacket, with the red card, with your name. I’m glad I asked Porter about it. I’m very glad he said we should meet there.”

  His smiled faded, with awe in his gaze, he moved a lock of her hair to her back. “I owe him everything for it.”

  Her heart lurched at the sincerity in his words. She chose not to let them in, and aimed to make a joke. “Now that’s not funny. You tell Calvin you owe him and he’ll ride you hard until the end of time.”

  “Come here,” he cajoled, tugging her arm and pulling her on top of him. “No one is ridin’ me except you.”

  Ah, so this is what bliss is like.

  Rhemy laid his back on the edge of the double slipper porcelain tub, took a drag from his Swisher Sweet cigarillo, and exhaled through his nose, the distinctive sound of Adderley’s Dancing in the Dark playing on a vintage record player.

  Years ago, he had the tub situated in front of the French doors near the river view, but hadn’t really used it. Once he placed a drunk human friend in it to sleep off the booze, and another time he used it to handwash his clothes. It was nothing more than a showpiece.

  At that moment, he was actually taking a bath in his bathtub, and the most enticing woman occupied it with him. Oh, but look at her. All that hair up on her head, a few curls sticking to her face from the steam, those spellbinding eyes looking at him with desire.

  They’d made love a few times now, and yet he was nowhere near satisfied, which was irregular, since having sex once with a woman—but sometimes numerous nights with two women—was enough to satisfy him. Not with Taelour, however. Having her only made him extra voracious, but for now, he would give her a rest, let her soak in his perfumed bath, and talk.

  And, good gods, he really enjoyed their rapport and banter, hearing her views on pop culture, human politics, underworld affairs, art, even sports…and she knew a lot more about sports than he did, which amused him. Had to be her brothers’ influence. Curious enough, she was reluctant to talk about them, though it’d been obvious she loved and adored all four. He wondered if she would hesitate to introduce him to them, with his immortal forsaken standing.

  Would they disapprove of him?

  Of course they would. He would. Nevertheless, he would avow her, and deal with any familial conflict in stride. No matter if it took every ounce of charm, every penny of his savings, and every night of his life to get them to like him.

  Her gaze shifted to his hand as he brought cigarillo to his lips.

  “What is the significance of the ring on your forefinger?” she asked.

  He slowly blew out the smoke. “It’s just a ring.”

  “And that’s just a lie.”

  Hmm, how clever she was. “It belonged to someone. He gave it to me.”

  “Who was he?”

  “A friend.”

  She regarded him with a careful eye, as though she knew he spoke of someone who was no longer in his life. “What happened to him?”

  He dropped his gaze, biting the inside of his cheek before he answered. “Shifters happened.”

  The silence expanded. “Oh, Rhemy. Forgive me for asking.”

  “Forgiven. It was a long time ago.”

  From an outsider’s perspective, the murder of his friend should’ve made Rhemy hate shifters justifiably, not seek to understand and befriend them. No one knew his friend was the reason he’d started the “covenpack” society. Daulton might be famous for seeking to unite the shifters and vampires, but he wasn’t the first. “His name was Elijah. Do you know who Marex Daulton is?”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “Then you’ve probably heard of his soul mate. Nadine. She and Elijah were lovers, and were nearly avowed, but he died before that happened. Even though he was a pürblood, he loved her very much, and she’d given up finding her fated. Then he was bled out by a pack of shifter wolves when they caught him on their territory. The underworld as a whole think it was the UCC soldiers who killed him. Only a few know the truth.”

  “Why only a few?”

  “Better to hate our own than give others a reason to avenge in Elijah’s name. Retaliation just recycles the hate. Elijah wouldn’t want it.”

  She stared at him awhile, awe in her eyes. “You…you really do amaze me, Rhemy.”

  Her soft words made him yearn for her again. He snuffed out his cigarillo, and pulled her toward him. Looking up at her, he ran his hand over her delectable ass, his dick hard as stone, ready to slide inside her again.

  She kissed him, hard, and he was a man lost in desire’s storm once more. He wrapped his arms around her and pushed her to her back against the tub, delving his tongue in and kissing her like it was the last thing he ever wanted to do. Since the tub didn’t allow her spread wide, she pushed him away to set her calves on his shoulders. He gave a feral smile.

  He gripped the edge of the tub behind her and entered her sweet pussy, thrusting slow and steady and sending glops of water over the edge. He dropped his head back with a moan, could never get deep enough, constantly feeling something was missing, even though the pleasure was levels beyond anything he’d felt before.

  “Yes,” she said. “Fuck me.” She groaned, threading her fingers behind his neck, her head tilted back, teeth biting her bottom lip.

  More. Harder. Deeper.

  She told him all these things and more and he complied like a helpless, willing slave.

  His canines lengthened as he plunged his hips, feeling his balls tighten, close to climaxing, so desperate to bite her and feed. To take her blood would be the ultimate high, and she’d done it the first time they were together. He didn’t know why, but by the gods, he was damn near close to begging for it. He wanted to take her blood and come inside her with such need, he was trembling at the thought of it.

  “Rhemy…Rhemy,” she panted, bucking beneath him suddenly, more water leaving the tub than remaining within.

  He hung his head, trying to force his teeth back, reining in the wild longing, squeezing his eyes shut. Her small cries swelled to louder ones, and he felt his orgasm on the verge of exploding.

  Faster and faster they grinded, and for a second, he nearly bit into her inner thigh out of sheer, intense need, but somehow he managed not to, groaning hard as she milked his cock, and stole the gods-loving soul out of him.

  A word echoed in his mind, but he couldn’t make it out, too stoned on the aftereffect of his orgasm to listen, to care. Then it vanished as he caught his breath and slipped away from her.

  “Gods, Taelour…every time just gets more…” More what? Insanely good? Was good even the right word?

  She brought her head back from its recline, her eyes watery, avoiding his. “I know,” she said, reaching over for a towel on the standing holder.

  Did she know? Was the connection as powerful for her as it was for him? She climbed out and started to dry off. Rhemy had the distinct impression she wanted away from him. He got out of the tub, brows drawing together as he wrapped a towel around his waist.

  She reached for her dress and carelessly put it on. “I need to go. It’s almost sunrise. I have just enough time to get home.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, sensing her disconnecting from him, and it felt like he was falling, with nothing to grip. “You don’t ha
ve to.” She moved even faster, searching for her shoes. Why was she rushing off? “At least slow down. We don’t move that fast in the south,” he joked, hoping to ease her with humor.

  It didn’t work.

  “It’s almost sunrise, Rhemy.”

  She already said that. He glanced outside. She had over an hour. “How far do you live?”

  “At least thirty minutes away.”

  Even so, he wasn’t ready, didn’t want to say goodbye, and didn’t understand why she had to suddenly take off, as if he’d upset her. He frankly couldn’t see how, since mere minutes ago she was calling his name in ecstasy.

  He sighed, at a loss, pulled the duvet off the floor and found her shoes. “Talk to me.”

  She searched his gaze, opening her mouth, then closed it. “I’ve been here all night and my brothers are probably worried.”

  “So call them. Tell them you’re spendin’ the day hours here. Surely they’ll understand.”

  She picked up her shoes, avoiding his gaze. “I’d rather sleep in my own bed today.”

  A burst of possession made his eyes flash. “Taelour, wait. I want to avow you—”

  “Are you crazy? I’m a pürblood.”

  “I know, and I don’t care.”

  “Well, I do. We’re too different. I can’t be with a vampire the gods made for another.”

  “Another who may never appear. You’re the one that’s here right now. The one I want in my arms and my life.”

  “You haven’t found her, so I’m the next-best option? I know there are a few fatebloods who’ve avowed to a pürblood, but I won’t do that. Why can’t we just be together without an avowal?”

  “Because we are meant to be more than lovers, Taelour. You know our kind can’t resist the lust of others if we don’t avow. And I want you to be mine, and mine alone.” Yes, by the gods yes, that was the only way. The thought of another touching her made his mind black with jealousy.

  “Rhemy, you haven’t thought this through. An avowal is a big deal.”

  “I don’t have to think. It feels right.” He searched her gaze, trying to make her understand.