by Cara Villar
“Are you saying Vincent is the poster boy for shameless-eye-candy-for-hormonal-teenage-girls?” I asked, wriggling in my seat with a tight expression. Why did my back feel worse now than when I was sitting in the car? The plane began to haul-ass down the runway and then we were lifting. I gritted my teeth as I twisted to watch the ground drop away. That was my favorite part of flying. It’s why I always requested a window seat.
Felix’s quick eyes took in every movement. “I’m saying that, for a wolf, he’s not bad.”
“Please. The moment his name was mentioned you made a face like you’d just swallowed the cockroach in your Bloody Mary.”
“Hey, I said for a wolf.” He gave a regal wave of dismissal, and I grinned, then winced and shifted. His head tilted and his gaze narrowed again. “Red?”
“Don’t!” I snapped, before he could start babying me. “I’ll find a comfortable position eventually.”
He rolled his eyes. “Let me see the damage.” he said, snapping his belt free the instant the light went off.
“No!” I flinched back into the seat, gripping the arm as I hissed in a breath. Jeepers that hurt! I glared up at him because, let’s face it, it was his fault. He came to his feet and flattened his hands on the broad armrests of my chair, leaning forward until his nose was mere inches from mine. The scent of him rushed over me, bringing to life every nerve-ending, swamping my sluggish, traitorous hormones in ice and coffee and anise.
“Let me see.”
“I don’t see how this—”
“Let me see.”
“It’s nothing, I’ll be fi—”
“Let. Me. See.”
“Felix.”
“Red.” His eyes sparked with gold and I huffed.
“Fine.”
He straightened with a small triumphant smile, and held his arm out for me to precede him down the aisle. I glanced to the back of the plane, and saw the sectioned off bedroom. I turned back and eyed him suspiciously, but my tired mind couldn’t work through any of the possible tricks that might be working through that intelligent Vampire mind. So, with a sigh and a cringe, I stood and headed to the back of the plane.
The slats were down on the windows, the room was shrouded in darkness, cool and obviously made for comfort, or maybe a few private hours of uninterrupted loving.
Mile-high club member, Red? I might be after this…
“Mirror.” Felix’s breath puffed against my hair, brushing over my cheek. I hid my shiver by moving away, heading for the mirror fastened tight to the wall.
I really didn’t want to see the damage. As long as I didn’t know how bad it was, I could pretend it wasn’t bad at all. I glanced at Felix, and his expression was stern and expectant. I was reminded of my grandfather. He had worn that same expression when he caught me frolicking through the woods with the boys from town.
Yanking my gaze back to my reflection, I started popping the buttons of my shirt, then slid one side off my shoulders, instinctively hiding my scar. Felix sucked in a breath as I turned and peered over my shoulder, and groaned, “Ah, bugger.” My shoulders slumped. The damage was worse than I had thought, and I was surprised that it didn’t hurt a whole lot worse. Black and blue smudges marred both shoulder blades, and mottled like a tail down my spine, with purple, green and yellow decorating the edges of it—all like some kind of Rorschach test.
“Remind me never to get thrown into any walls by a pre-menstrual she-wolf again, ‘kay?” I murmured, and Felix choked off a laugh as he stalked over.
“She wasn’t pre-menstrual,” was all he said as he stood behind me, his fingers probing and whispering over my skin, making me wince and shiver in unison. “I would have scented it.”
Ew.
“You just attacked her Alpha.”
“I didn’t attack him,” I said, hearing the whiny petulance in my own voice. “I just… gave him a little push,” I mumbled.
“Yes, from the front door onto Osiris’s desk,” Felix wryly retorted.
“So I don’t know my own strength.”
“Or your temper.”
“Ow!”
“Wimp.”
I snarled low in my throat as he continued to prod at a particularly tender part.
“Here,” he said, coming around to face me. “My blood with help you heal.”
“No!” I grabbed his wrist as he lifted it to his mouth, his intention to bite himself and shove it at me blatantly apparent.
“Red, I didn’t take you for squeamish.”
Surprisingly, I wasn’t. I should have felt totally grossed out. It was blood, after all, some other being’s life force. Taking it usually felt wrong on every conceivable level, and yet, Felix was offering. All I could think about was how biting him made me flush from head to toe with pleasure. My mind tricked over at lightning speed, wondering what he would taste like... Like coffee? Like ice? Like licorice? It made me lick my lips in preparation for his insanely decadent flavor on my pallet.
“I’m not being squeamish!” I snapped instead, releasing his wrist and moving away, clenching my fists as I shunted down the wild urge to taste him.
“How about just the finger then?”
“Ew! Do you know how many germs live under your fingernails?”
He stared at me a moment, then said, “I hate to break it to you, but you’re immortal, pet.”
A distinctly unfeminine sound left my lips. “Not the point.”
“What if I washed my hands?”
“Not going to happen.”
“I can guarantee you will not be able to sleep with those bruises.” He pointed out to the chairs. “You couldn’t even sit still for take-off.”
“Exhaustion will kick in eventually.”
He snorted this time. “Indeed, and while we’re working, your delusions could get you hurt, or killed, because you’re too mule-headed.”
I gasped. “I am not mule-headed, you trumped-up, glorified bat!”
“Rather a trumped-up, glorified bat on his game, then a freaky little hybrid with a back that looks like a shrink’s flash-card!”
I did my fish-mouth routine, gaping silently, unable to find an argument, then crossed my arms and looked away. “Fine,” I conceded with a haughty sniff. “But it’s going to be messy.”
He paused in the act of sliding his black and red leather biker’s jacket from his broad frame, then shucked it the rest of the way, tossing it onto the chair. “Because of your double-set?”
He meant my teeth. My canines that lengthened both top and bottom like a wolf. I just nodded. He frowned as he pulled his long-sleeved black tee off over his head. My eyes widened for a brief moment before I saw he wore a black vest underneath, contrasting sharply with his pale, pearl-like skin.
“Does your saliva have the…relaxant that Vampires have?” he asked.
Relaxant. I almost sniggered. Try aphrodisiac, mate!
Vampire bites are designed to make their donor enjoy the experience, like being high on some drug. Their saliva is euphoric. Mine has an altogether different effect. According to my hybrid genealogy, my bite can be either painful as hell when I want, like Weres, or the biggest turn-on this side of champagne, strawberries and Viagra.
“Something like that.” I replied, pressing my lips together to keep from grinning. By the time it was done, he’d have balls the color of plums!
Unable to back out, knowing he was right, there was nothing I could say when he moved to the bed, sat on its edge, and looked at me expectantly. “Where do you want to bite?”
I swallowed. “The crook of the elbow,” I replied, after several tries to find my voice. “My bite on the wrist leaves too much damage…”
He patted the spot beside him on the bed, and I stared at it like a cobra about to leap up and bite my face off.
Swallowing again, I moved to the bed, and sat down beside him. I stared down at my legs, and noticed my hands were clenching the seams of my jeans, and I frowned at the habit that I had driven myself so hard to stop doing. Fa
lling in with the clan of Vampires had certainly brought up more of my past than I liked, so why not old habits too.
I cleared my throat. “Are you sure about this?” I asked.
He shrugged. “It will aid the hunt.”
“And nothing matters but the hunt,” I concluded.
“Indeed.”
“Have you fed others before?” I asked then, unsure, really, why I needed to know.
“On occasion,” he replied, a smile playing across his lovely lips.
My brows shot up at the casual answer. “Are you usually so free with your life-force?”
Felix shrugged. “Not my life-force.”
I frowned at his blithe disregard for the red cells in his system, but I couldn’t argue. Vampires didn’t kill their food. The thought was anathema, not to mention forbidden worldwide. He lifted his arm, fingers in a loose fist, the crook of his elbow bared to me in offering. My gaze zeroed in on the dark blue vein beneath his opalescent skin and my mouth filled with saliva. I licked my lips and glanced at him. His eyes twinkled like emeralds, bright and enticing. For a moment, all I could think about was how much I really wanted him to make me his own personal pretzel.
Then I looked back at his arm, focused my gaze on his vein, let my teeth out, brought his warm skin to my lips and inhaled his iced-coffee and anise scent, and bit.
A hot rush filled my mouth an instant before the taste of Felix’s blood flooded every single sense I had. My eyes flew wide at the first swallow, his sharp hiss barely registering as I moaned and let my eyes close, giving myself up to the luscious flavor, the tingling buzz of it racing through me. Decadent. Debauched. Sizzling with power. Heightening my body’s responses until they all snapped taut and settled wantonly in my lower body. Felix tasted like sex!
He laid his free hand on my opposite hip, a hot brand that made me shiver as his fingers flexed a tighter hold on me. I could hear him breathing heavier, faster, beginning to pant, idly wondering if my saliva was having as much of an effect on him as his blood was having on me. I squirmed on my perch at the edge of the bed, feeling hot, and needy, wanting to press up against him until the ache blooming inside receded in that glorious explosion I hadn’t experienced with another in so, so long.
Bad enough he had aroused me with his sniffing. How the hell was I supposed to control myself with a liquid-fire libido-boost running through my system? I went into the situation thinking one of us would be able to control themselves, namely me, but one swallow of his blood had blown that plan right out the cockpit!
Now look at me; writhing against the bedspread, knees scissoring like the silky comforter could relieve the pressure, sultry moans rasping from me with each desperate swallow.
Felix’s arm snaked around me suddenly, heaving me up and back, pressing my spine to his chest and my ass to his crotch. He groaned low and pained against my ear, his breath fanning my cheek as he pressed the hard length of himself against me, our hips rolling in tandem, frantic, unthinking, his arm pressing tighter to my lips, cupping my head.
Feels so good…
I wasn’t thinking. All I knew was the rush of exquisite blood hastening over my tongue, of the scent of him surrounding me, his heat at my back, and his arousal rubbing so wonderfully perfect against my cheeks. So good. My own arousal overwhelmed all things as I arched my back and pressed and rolled and bucked, seeking nothing but the culmination, the climax, the kaleidoscope of promised ecstasy. Something, I knew, only he and his blood could give me with immediate effect.
Felix’s knees pushed mine apart, spreading my thighs wide. I released his arm with a gasp, my tongue flicking out to draw his flavor from my lips. My lids felt heavy, my body lethargic, my mind distracted and incoherent. Yet his blood sizzled and surged through me, leaving me writhing on him. It drove me so mindlessly for completion that licking the puncture wounds on his arm closed, tasting his blood again, smelling his fragrance, almost had me biting down once more.
“Ride me,” Felix groaned, both hands gripping my hips, urging me on as he thrust up beneath me. “Ride me, pet.”
“Yes,” I gasped, gripping his wrist with one hand and reaching back to grip his hair with the other, bucking to meet him, each reckless impact sparking something hot and piercing right from the core of me. “Yes.”
The pressure built with alarming speed, my pounding heart sending the potency of his blood whipping through me like waves of heat, lingering at the wetness between my legs and the tingling hardness of my nipples. I was on fire, burning up, veins blazing to ash, breaths panting to smoke, skin aflame with every lancing blast of pleasure Felix fed and I took.
I’m drunk off power, I thought, realizing the zing in my system was Felix’s blood blending into me, healing me, reviving me as only Vampire blood can. I moaned louder, longer, again and again, bouncing and riding him harder, faster, the barrier of our clothes doing nothing to inhibit the sudden rapturous flash of an orgasm about to…about to…
Oh God!
I cried out, spine going rigid, muscles clenching as blessed wave after blessed wave of pleasure rippled through me, soaking me, ringing me dry. Felix barked a sudden shout, bucking frantically, and immediately the air perfumed with the scent of our combined climaxes, intermingled with his unique aroma and my arousal. He went limp on the bed, and I collapsed against him, his breaths panting against my hair as his hands left my sides to flop on the bed. His heart gave a single, shuddering beat against my back, while mine pounded crazily, my own ragged breath sawing from my throat.
“You should have warned me,” I managed to murmur, knowing I should be feeling all kinds of shame and humiliation.
“Indeed, pet,” he huffed, and after a moment of silence, added, “I can’t feel my arms or legs…” His tone was a little awed, and my mouth twitched.
“And we didn’t even have to swap underwear.” I sighed. So much for shame and humiliation. As it turned out, when Felix only grunted in response, I couldn’t find the energy to make myself care. And as the pressure seeped away, leaving my entire body a liquid puddle of sated hybrid, I smiled and closed my eyes, the weight of my bliss unable to hold them open, and it didn’t take long before I knew nothing more.
10
I felt the warm, smooth surface of my trunk before I saw it.
The trunk was made of two shades of cherry wood. One dark. One light. The dark was smooth and glossy. The light was engraved with winding flowers and leaves. The latches and hinges were brass and iron. The iron was dark and smooth, worn from touch of decades, from generations of my family. The brass was warm, the filigree barely even visible anymore.
I reached out my hand toward it, knowing that the wood would be like a living, breathing thing under my fingertips, and the latches would be cold, like frost on glass. And as my fingers brushed the ornate carvings on the lid, they felt weightless, like air, and I half-expected my hand to just float right through the wood.
But they didn’t.
My fingertips brushed the grain, traced a leaf, and trailed down a vine, smoothing to the edges. My hands, oddly pale, the nails dark, making me pause and look at them…but I couldn’t hold the thought of why this would be strange to me. I was pale anyway, though not this pale. Freckles decorated my skin usually, a chaotic pattern of blemishes many considered cute. Now they were gone, replaced by this milky white flawlessness.
I looked back at the trunk, slid my fingers over the warm, familiar carvings, and then gripped the edges to lift it open—
My hand curled around soft, cool sheets as my mind came out of the warm, fuzzy blanket of sleep. Moaning, I stretched my arms over my head and pointed my toes in a deliciously feline stretch, and then flopped back onto the bed, my gaze lazily moving around what was obviously a hotel room. Rich creamy carpet, thick velvet drapes, white and gold furniture, ornately styled, entertainment center and bar.
Flashes of my dreams skated through my head, dancing in a myriad of flickering, haunting images, and for a moment, my fingers tingled with the remem
bered grain of that wooden chest. I knew what was in that old trunk, and pondered briefly why such things were cropping up in my subconscious. Feeling better than I had in a long time, all loose and liquid-like, I put the dream down to nothing more than being in the company of the Vampire clan, which had also stirred up memories of things I made a point not to think of.
Sluggishly, I pushed myself up into a sitting position, and stared down at my feet, noting that my shoes were off, and my socks, and my jeans… Hell, I was wearing nothing but a vest-top and panties. Frowning, I tried to recall how I’d gotten to the hotel and when I’d changed, but I had nothing.
Thinking back harder—having to force, really, since I was feeling all lazy and languid—I tried to figure out what Felix and I had…
Oh, dear Lord, I dry-humped the Vampire to orgasm. Dying. Dying, right now.
Heat flooded my face, my ears, my throat and chest as I recalled the…events…that had been the result of my bite and his blood. My skin tingled when I recollected the heat of him pressed to my back, the searing grip of his large hands on my hips, how good the hard length of him had felt grinding against me, even with clothes. Shivering when the images became too vivid, other places in my lower body beginning to warm too, I dropped my face into my hands in utter mortification.
How the hell was I supposed to face him now? He must think me such a little strumpet after that! Jeepers, Red, nice going. Since you met this vamp it’s been all about getting your wide-on. I mentally shook my head. What happened to that touch of class you always professed to have?
It’s in the laundry…along with my sanity.
And on top of all that mortification, was my guilt. It was cold, heavy and ultimately familiar. Being brought to climax by someone other than…other than Glenn. Other than my husband. Though he had died the night I was bitten, though I had seen all the blood and his body, had felt the cooling of his skin as he whispered to me to run, I still felt a little dirty, like I’d been unfaithful. My commitment to a memory, to a shadow of what I knew, was still a strong sense inside me. I never want to be with another man, to love another man. To dishonor the sacrifice Glenn had made in such a way would break my heart all over again.