Michel sensed it too and so didn't muck about. He reached for my hand and as soon as our palms met and blood mingled he shuddered visibly, standing almost rigid, his eyes closed with his jugular veins standing out starkly against the cream colour of his skin. He was swallowing hard, like he was fighting to stay in control, to handle whatever had poured from me to him. He tingled to the touch and blazed brightly, just for a moment, then opened his eyes and looked at me, a brief look of surprise crossing his features, then settling into his usual lazy-dripping-with-sex gaze. I almost pulled away, the purple was so intense and then I felt it.
It started as a slow burn and soon erupted into an inferno. I couldn't take my eyes off him and suddenly found myself next to his chest. He hadn't pulled me to him, somehow I had taken the step necessary to put myself under his chin and against his chest. He smelt intoxicating, I found myself running my fingers across his chest, relishing the feel of his hard muscles under the material of his jacket and then I decided the jacket was too thick, so quickly fumbled with the buttons, determined to get the damn thing off him. He didn't stop me as I rushed to push the jacket over his broad shoulders, but as soon as the jacket was on the floor and my hands had slipped inside his now opened shirt and were kneading his flesh with an urgent longing, I felt his hands come around me, touching me, moving up and down my back, over my bare shoulders and around to my collar bone and neck, the sensation his returning touch created was like lightning striking the earth.
Suddenly his lips were on mine in a bruising kiss, all hard passion and heated desire, there was nothing of the finesse I had come to expect from his kisses, this was pure demand and need and longing all rolled up in one. His tongue devoured me and I wrapped one of my legs around his thigh, crushing myself to him, opening my mouth up and giving as much of myself to him as he was to me. All of a sudden he tipped my neck back and I watched as his fangs come out and down in one swift motion, his mouth was on my pulse before I could protest, his fangs piercing skin within an instant, his Sanguis Vitam filling the air and the pull of blood leaving me startling. I stiffened at the shock of what he was doing, I had so not expected that, he hadn't warned me, he hadn't even hinted that that was a possibility. Of course he had mentioned that feeding could be pleasurable to the donor as well as the vampire, so I had assumed it would take some part in sex, but for the life of me I had never really thought he would bite me.
And then all of a sudden, I wanted him to. I wanted this connection, this intimacy, more than I had wanted anything else in this world before and as those thoughts came pouring into my head I heard another's voice, whispering, pleading, insisting, “mine, mine, mine, mine, mine.”
Oh good lord, what have I done?
He stiffened, as though he had heard me. I did only say that in my mind, didn't I? Yes, because right now the only sounds coming from my mouth were whimpers and groans, not at all ladylike and absolutely no room for a coherent sentence in amongst them at all.
He pulled his fangs out and gently licked the blood that continued to flow, slowing it until it stopped altogether. He softly kissed the spot he had bitten, so tenderly, then pulled his head back and looked at me, his eyes blazing a deep amethyst, interlaced with pale violet - mesmerizing.
“So, do you still think this changes nothing, ma douce?”
Oh, God in heaven help me.
Chapter 19
Servitude
I became aware of the stillness in the room. The vampires were all motionless, watching with fervent expressions, but as still as they could ever be. No breathing, no heartbeats, just a very unnatural obsessive-type look to their eyes.
Michel took my hand and turned us toward the crowd. “I present to you, my kindred Nosferatin.”
The room, as one, went down on bended knee. The only vampires not complying were Jock, Enrique and Alessandra. Jock looked vaguely uncomfortable, Enrique's eyes glazed a bright intensity looking only at me and Alessandra looked like she had swallowed a particularly nasty bug. But, the three of them approached as one, gliding across the room to stand in front of us.
All three bowed at the waist, hand fisted over heart. Even Alessandra. Curtsying not the thing for vampires then, huh? As they rose they said in unison - had they practised this or what? - “We pledge our undying allegiance to the Durand Line.”
Whoa. What did that mean? They already had an accord, they didn't need to forgo their position of equality within it, but here they were, shouting to the world, that Michel was now considered as good as their Master too.
They hadn't finished yet - no of course not! - they turned their attention to me and again in unison said, “We pledge our lives in the protection of the Durand Nosferatin” and bowed again.
What?
I glanced at Michel, but he didn't seemed surprised at all. If anything his face told me he had expected nothing less. I was a little dumbfounded to say the least.
Michel inclined his head and looked at me. What, I'm supposed to say something? I decided a nod should do. It did. They all relaxed then and started talking, the other vampires in the room got up off their knees and started mingling, catching up on battle stories and the like. Goody, must be party time.
Shane Smith sidled up to me, hesitantly. “Welcome to the family, Luce.” What could I say? “Um, thanks, Shane.” That seemed to be enough for him so he smiled and went off into the crowd.
Enrique and Jock were in deep conversation about Max and how he didn't stand a chance now. Cocky didn't even cover it and Alessandra was, well hot damn, she was flirting, all eyelids fluttering and breasts heaving with Michel. Bitch! He wasn't doing anything to encourage her, but he wasn't doing a damn thing to stop her either, so I decided I wasn't going to hang around and watch that spectacle and a drink 'round about now, would be mighty fine.
Bruno was at the bar, so I slipped into a seat next to him. He signalled to the barman, a vampire named Doug. Yeah, I know I laughed the first time I heard it too. And Doug started pouring me a Bacardi & Coke, my favourite. Guess the staff had been appraised of what I liked.
The strange thing is, I know I've said in the past that I wouldn't want to meet Bruno alone in a dark alley before, but lately, the guy's kind of grown on me. He's still a big nasty brute, all sly grin and fierce eyes, but he is the one vampire in Michel's entourage that I have had the most to do with. And although he still does the whole, you're the Master's, Luce thing, he also treats me exactly how I like. He knows I'm a vampire hunter and he respects that. No bull.
“Well that went well,” I said a little sullenly into my glass.
“No more than to be expected, Luce.”
“What do ya mean?”
“We all knew you were powerful, it was expected Michel would gain much from the joining.”
All right, now he had me interested. I had sensed the power pouring into Michel when our palms were pressed together, I had seen his visible response to it, the way he even struggled to stay in control of it. But although I could sense a surge in his power level right now, I didn't think it was that impressive.
“Yeah, well he's doubled his power, we knew he would.”
Bruno laughed. “You probably missed it, being all gooey eyed and all,” I so resented that gooey eyed comment, “but he's more than doubled it.”
I spun around in my chair and looked toward where Michel was standing with Alessandra, a slightly bored expression on his face, which funnily enough did perk me up a bit, but I couldn't see it. I couldn't see the increase in power that Bruno was referring too.
“I don't see it.”
“Nah, he's taking great lengths right now to hide it.” Why was Bruno telling me this, why all of a sudden did I get carte blanche in the Durand inner circle? Oh, yeah, that's right I've just joined myself to the boss. I am as good as one of them now. I wonder if that means I can't stake 'em now, when they do something wrong? An uncomfortable thought I'd address later.
I turned back to my near empty drink and drained it, holding up the glass an
d shaking it at Doug. He filled it in lightning speed and slid it back towards me. I took a large gulp. Then another.
“Why are you upset?” Bruno asked, without even looking at me.
How did I answer that? Could it be that I was upset because despite everything Michel still leaves me out of the loop? He expected to have more than doubled his power level, but he never let me know that. His right hand goon expected he would get more than double his power level, hell, probably the whole damn Durand line expected it, but I didn't. Suddenly the cocky comments between Jock and Enrique after our joining made sense. And, if I was truthful, what really worried me and I mean really worried me, was that I'm not sure how Michel will be with all that power. I had only just got my head around the fact that he would double his and now I had to take onboard the fact that he had gained even more. Michel at full power was frightening, how much less human would he be now?
And there you have it. The crux of the problem, as they say. I'm a descendant from another race, but the blood of that non-human race is so diluted by now, that more than half of me is most definitely still human. Michel hasn't been human for over 500 years and now he was moving even further away from me.
I settled on, “I'm surprised, not upset. There's a difference.”
“Well, you should be happy. This means you're likely to come into a shit load of power too, when you turn 25.”
And that was enough to stop my heart, right then and there. I didn't need this, I really, truly, most definitely did not need this. Does anyone even comprehend that it's been only a couple of weeks since I found out my weird and freakish anti-vampire/hunter skills were descendant from an inhuman race? Yet, still they pile crap heap after crap heap after crap heap of new and frightening information over my head. I was drowning.
I never wanted power. I was happy I'd be faster, stronger. All those things that would aid me in hunting down scumbag vampires. I was even pretty impressed with my dream vision thing, as it enabled me to continue fighting when I wasn't even there. But gaining so much power, the amount that Bruno was alluding too, just made me feel cold.
I finished the rest of my drink and felt my world go a bit fuzzy. A bit of warmth returned to my extremities, I was even tempted to have another, but I never knew when I'd feel the pull and need to confront a vampire, so two glasses of alcohol was always my absolute limit. Besides, I had a sudden urge to be out of here. To be back in my apartment. To be surrounded by the familiar. To not have to pull my shields around me when faced with the Sanguis Vitam of so many vampires in the one room.
The only problem, my bag with my stake in it, was in Michel's chamber. And walking home with (1) no stake and (2) dressed in this beautiful yet cumbersome-for-fighting dress, was just not gonna cut it. I'd have to make a quick dash to the room, change and try to sneak out. Ha! Sneak out past fifty vampires, that would be the day. But a girl's gotta try, right?
I told Bruno I needed to pee, he just grimaced and I skirted the club floor and slipped into the passage to Michel's chamber. It was open, so I partially closed the door - wouldn't want it to bloody lock me in here - and quickly ran over to my bag, grabbing a change of clothes and starting to strip.
Of course, I could blame the alcohol, I'd had those two glasses in under half an hour after all and my stomach was empty, (I hadn't felt like much food this evening for some reason), but really, I was just so damn eager to get out of there and my nerves were so frayed that I wasn't concentrating on my surroundings. So I didn't hear the door slowly open and then ever so slowly close and I most certainly didn't hear the click of the deadbolts sliding home, but I'm presuming they did , because the first thing I heard was his voice and he was standing right behind me.
“Going somewhere, ma douce?”
I'd already slipped the dress off, it was lying in an undignified puddle to the side, so I was standing in just my knickers and strapless bra, one leg raised about to slip into some jeans. I stumbled at his voice, getting my leg tangled in the jeans and started falling backwards with a squawk. He caught me before I hit the ground and hissed at the shock his fingers against my naked flesh had received.
We landed on the carpet, one of his arms around the back of me, hot against my skin through the thin material of his shirt, his body above me, pressing down my side, moulding to me, his other hand already stroking across my stomach, following the ridge of my hip bones, then down to my briefs and flicking in under the lace at the top. I shuddered, I couldn't help it, the convulsion almost as good as an orgasm. His eyes blazed that new amethyst-with-violet-flecks colour and he leaned in to kiss my neck, my jaw, up to my cheeks, eye lids, nose and then finally, thank you God, my lips.
His kiss was divine, so hot and wet and everything my body craved at that moment. “I want you so badly, ma belle. I am fighting to stay in control,” he whispered against my lips, his French accent thick, slipping his tongue in my mouth in between words, nibbling my bottom lip with his teeth when he finished. My hand had found his hair, scrunching it in my fingers as his kisses stoked the fire within, my other hand resting against his rock hard chest.
I pushed against that chest and rolled him over onto his back, straddling him, not caring about my near nakedness, relishing the feel of his already hard shaft pressing against me, fighting to escape the confine of his clothes. I leaned down, pulling his shirt apart, allowing the buttons to tear and pop off in all directions and began laying kisses all over his chest, up through the light curl of hair, to the hollow below his neck and then on around passed his pulse point to his ears. Biting, kissing, nibbling and loving the way he moaned and writhed beneath me.
His hands gripped me on the hips and started moving me against him, a slow languid stroking of body against body, the friction creating a heat that rapidly built threatening to consume me. Suddenly his hands left my hips and undid my bra at the back deftly, throwing it aside with what looked like offence at its obstruction. He reached up and grasped one of my now naked breasts, raising his head to take the other in his mouth.
I arched against him in response, little electrical shocks streaming through my body, a growing need creeping up from my centre stretching out to everywhere; fingers, toes, lips, right to my core. He responded with equal urgency, his hands covering my skin, every part of it he could reach, first stroking my back, then quickly moving to my arms, then down my stomach, up to my face, across my clavicle. It was as if he couldn't get enough of me, I knew how he felt.
Without even realising we had moved I felt the softness of the bed beneath me, the feeling of sinking into the covers. Michel was a blur, when he stilled he was standing in front of me in all his naked glory. He was beautiful. All lean muscles and long limbs. The cream colour of his perfect skin reflecting a slight sheen, a trickle of sweat making its mesmerizing way down the centre of his chest, then his stomach, to nestle in amongst the soft curls above his sex. My eyes had followed its lazy journey down his body and were now resting on the sight of him. It lengthened slightly beneath my gaze.
He swallowed visibly, then moved toward me. Before I'd even drawn a breath he had removed my pants, somehow ripping them away without me even feeling it. He gently manoeuvred himself between my legs, holding the weight of his body above me with the strength of his arms. He ran his hardened shaft against me, covering the length of me, and then repeating it. I cried out in need, arching myself towards him.
He didn't give in, just continued to tease me in the same manner, leaning down to kiss me passionately on the mouth, gently biting me on the bottom lip, stopping to stroke my face and neck, then returning to teasing me again. The pressure building inside me was relentless, it couldn't escape, it wrapped around me, lifting me up on a wave and threatening to throw me off the other side, only to lower me gently back down again and then start all over.
I was writhing uncontrollably under him, gripping the sheets at my side, all but going crazy under his touch. Finally, I could stand it no longer. “Michel, please” I begged. I don't know exactly what I
was begging for, to stop? To finish this? For release?
He moaned, a sound so vulnerable and raw and thrust inside me in one motion, slowly pulling out and pausing, before repeating the action again, differing the speed, lengthening the pause, making me lean towards him, reach up to grasp his shoulders, trying to pull him to me and finally calling out in frustration and need. He laughed, a warm throaty laugh, kissing me roughly on the lips and sped up his movements into me, taking me with him on a wave of pure bliss and hot need, higher and higher until we both could go no further and crashed back down to earth in the most delicious rainbow of colours.
He collapsed beside me on the bed, pulling me close and whispering sweet nothings in French against my neck, kissing me, smelling me, touching me. As though he never wanted this moment to end. My breathing was unsteady and my heart was marching to its own beat, but all I could feel was the languid bliss and afterglow that flowed through me, the warmth of his body and breath against my skin, the touch of his hands and fingers over my hot flesh.
Finally when the world stopped spinning and the colours of the rainbow behind my eyes began to fade, it occurred to me that I had thought I could stop this from happening. Boy, had I been wrong.
Michel kissed my neck above my pulse, where he had bitten me earlier and reached behind to grab the covers, pulling them up and draping them over us, cocooning us in their warmth. The kiss to my neck had reminded me of what had happened earlier, how shocked and angry I had been that he had bitten me, I reddened at the fact that I had completely forgotten that thought and fallen so willingly into his arms. What was wrong with me?
“Why are you angry, ma douce?” he whispered against my cheek.
“I'm not angry.” It was an automatic response, out before I had even comprehended his question.
“I can feel your emotions, all of you, you have no idea how impossibly intoxicating it was when I came in this room. When I touched you. Everything I was feeling multiplied by you, but more. It was your want I could feel, your desire that washed over mine. It almost drowned me. And, I can feel your anger now too.”
Kindred (Kindred, Book 1) Page 20