Standing up, Sofia straightened her slacks and picked up the pint of blood and IV instruments. “Don’t make it so difficult for yourself. Help Mr. Mason access your network. I’m sure he will make it worth your while.” She spoke loudly in a critical tone, treating Moira like an idiot for denying Mason. Moira knew that was a lie now. Now if she just said …
“Tally-ho, Moira,” Sofia tossed back at her while walking out. YES! Sofia could be trusted. She was an SOSC informant. Who’d have thought? Sofia must be the executive assistant sister. Great Fates! Sara … Sarafina. Son of a bitch.
Nathan was five when Napoleon had brought Sara to Moira’s farm. Moira had mentored her in computer structures. Taught her how to work the support groups, how to live off the land and off the grid. Moira had helped her set up in Montana with a society within the Underground Railroad. Sara was adept at finding escaped Hulven and other females in need of aid. Had those females been rescued by Sara’s brother and sister from the inside? Did Napoleon know? Either he did or someone he answers to must. Otherwise Sofia would have never known to tell her “Tally-ho.” That password was changed by the SOSC every thirty days. Was Sofia communicating telepathically with Sara? The brother was at her farm. It must be Sam, the Hulven with the friendly eyes and dimples; he was her brother. Moira would bet her life on it. The earlier threat of frisking had been Sofia’s way of introducing them.
Moira couldn’t have built the network she had if it weren’t for the backing of the SOSC and others like Sara. Napoleon was the only direct contact she allowed between her organization and the Eurasia SOSC. She should have realized that Napoleon would have kept Sara for a contact point. He was a brilliant strategist and a terrific father to Jorie. She had been right to ask him to be Jorie’s sire.
Hard to believe that that week was the catalyst to where she stood right now. Moira and Napoleon had been lovers when she and Marja had been spying for him during the French Revolution. She hadn’t even known that Napoleon was Elven at the time. She didn’t learn that until a week before Napoleon’s coronation as emperor. Marja had gotten hurt, and Moira was detained. Napoleon had offered Marja his blood. He’d known what they were the entire time. He’d allowed them to think they had a secret. Marja had taken the blood offered, not realizing at the time that she had created a bond to Napoleon. The next day Moira and Marja had run.
When she decided she wanted a child, she’d pleaded with Marja to help her contact Napoleon again. Marja refused, over and over. Finally Moira dropped the subject, even though she really wanted a child.
Years later Moira was on the cusp of estrus. Marja came to her, sitting on the edge of Moira’s bed, and they linked their hands together the same way they had done as children. “Do you still want to have a baby with Napoleon?” Marja had asked her, trepidation in her eyes.
Without hesitation Moira had answered, “Yes, more than anything.”
“You realize that once we invite him into our lives again, he will be with us forever, especially if you have his baby.” Marja was scared; that was clear to see. Napoleon had always been a military man. Under the direct orders of Elven Oracles, he had taken on the French Revolution to finally end the human slaughtering of humans. He’d told the girls the day before they ran that their lives were under the direction of the Oracles, whether they wanted to be part of the Elven world or not. Back then The Oracle and the High Ones had overseen Elven code, what little there was of it: Keep Elven existence secret. Don’t kill humans. Don’t take over their free will. That was about it. Feed off them, have sex with them, use them as slave labor, no big deal. They had more interest in policing their Morsdente than dealing with humanity. The only time they would get involved was by directive of the Oracles. The SOSC was still in the formative stages back then. Napoleon was a big advocate of symbiosis. There was little wonder that he would still be involved in Elven politics.
“I don’t want a mate, Marja,” she’d assured her, though she had always felt an odd connection to the handsome Elven. “I want a baby. I know he will be a great father. Napoleon never over stepped any boundaries we placed for him. Never asked us to do something we would be uncomfortable with. Never even came looking for us when we left. He respected our decision to go. He’s a male of honor. He’s who I want to father my child. If he is willing.” There were shots of morphine in the drawer if Marja refused. She would still get through this estrus. The thought of not having the option for a child for another twenty-five or more years brought tears to her eyes.
Marja dropped her chin in her chest, let out a deep sigh, and then nodded. “I’ll call to him.”
Moira hugged her sister with everything she had. “Thank you, thank you.” They’d spent the rest of the night planning for the future. They figured out a way to handle communications with Napoleon. None of those plans came to pass. Her sister was never the same after.
Moira came down the next morning aching, her blood iron elevated from the start of her estrus. “Marja, it’s starting,” she’d announced, entering the kitchen. Marja was sitting at the kitchen table across from Napoleon Bonaparte, who looked as handsome as ever. “You came.” Moira ran into his waiting embrace.
Nodding, he held her against his chest. “I have missed you, cheri.” His voice cracked as the effects of her pheromones already permeated his libido.
Stepping back, Moira looked into Napoleon’s soft brown eyes. “I am going to ask a lot from you. I have always respected you, Napoleon. I love you as a friend.” Napoleon nodded with some sadness in his eyes. He’d told her once long ago that he loved her. Her response had been, “Don’t.” The sentiment hadn’t changed in her at the time, though she’d long since fallen for him, a fact he remained unaware of. “That said, I want you to father a child with me. I think you would make a wonderful father.”
Brushing back and forth across her cheek and lips with his fingers, Napoleon was silent for several minutes. Peering down into her face, his eyes watered up briefly before he blinked the tears away. He answered, “It is a modern world, mon amie. You will make a beautiful mother. It would be a honouer. As long as you agree that I will be in le enfant’s life, toujours, for always. My answer is oui.”
Clapping her hands, Moira exclaimed, “Oh, thank you Napoleon!” She had been so happy.
Napoleon drew her pheromones deep into his lungs. His face flushed with heat and rapture as he swooped Moira into his arms. “This is not a hardship, mon doux. Show me to your bed and do not thank me.”
They hadn’t left her room for ten full days. She hadn’t even considered her sister. Her iron-rich blood kept him strong, and his feeding kept her iron levels down. When they finally emerged, Moira knew there was something horribly wrong. Marja was nowhere to be found, and the cup on the kitchen table was the same one she’d been drinking from the day Moira and Napoleon had gone upstairs.
Marja had never allowed Napoleon to take her blood, so the mentoring bond was one sided. Marja could call to him, but he could never call to her. Why hadn’t she called to him then? After doing a quick search of the grounds, Moira ran to the satellite GPS locator she’d insisted both she and Marja implant. Back then it was state of the art, a technology she had stolen from the US military. Now days you could buy them at any electronics store.
At great risk to himself, Napoleon had tried to port to Marja’s geographic location using only a map. Marja had been housed within lead, blocking him from getting to her and blocking her from calling to him. A bloodmate or a close family bond might allow for telepathic communication, the kind the three siblings shared, but even that was questionable.
Napoleon was able to perform reconnaissance on the compound she was being held at. With the aid of a brigade of SOSC warriors, none of which Moira ever met or thanked, Napoleon was able to plan and execute the raid and rescue Marja. They had also released other females; however, they had not been able to account for many after all the dust was settled. Now she knew why, and it broke her heart all over again. When the brigade returned
to the site, it had already been abandoned.
Marja refused to speak about the ordeal, and never spoke of how she had been captured. It wasn’t hard to figure out some of what Marja had endured after Moira realized she wasn’t the only one pregnant. Marja stayed with Moira until after they had both delivered. Jessica and Jorie were only a few months old when Marja told Moira she was leaving. Moira tried to get her to stay. Yelling, crying, begging, pouting. Marja was determined. She felt she needed to tell the family of the female who had been housed in the cage next to hers what had happened to her. The girl was from Mesa. She was human, Heredity bloodline. Her family name was Weedle, and the only living relative she had was a brother named Ben.
Marja found Ben, fell in love with him, married him, and raised Jess. She would port to Moira for a blood exchange every few days. Occasionally she would help a female in need that Moira would send to her. Other than that, she lived a completely human life, happily. Marja had told Ben the truth of what she was, and about his sister, Laura. Moira dedicated herself to finding Laura and others like her.
Chapter Nineteen
Porting into the kitchen of the home she’d lived in since Ellen had taken her in at sixteen, Jess noticed the message light blinking on her answering machine. As she hit play, she felt the ripple of Shane’s arrival. His arms came around her waist from behind.
First saved message: “Jess, call me as soon as you get this. I have no idea what is wrong with your brother, encouraging you to run off with some stranger, but this is not okay.”
Second saved message: “You don’t even have your cell phone with you. I just called it and your idiot brother answered. Call me.”
Third saved message: “Jess.” It was Jirou this time. “I am sure you’re fine. I am trying to keep your mom calm. Please call her, she’s making me crazy.”
Jess hit the stop button before the forth message could play and turned in Shane’s arms. “I have to call her,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Yes. You do.” His deep voice was husky as he placed a chaste kiss to her forehead.
Sighing, feeling her blood heat just from that small contact, she was about to say to hell with the call and drag him into her bedroom when the phone rang behind her. Groaning, she leaned her forehead against his chest, drawing strength. On the third ring she finally picked up the handset.
“Hello,” she said, keeping her voice light and singsongy. “Just walked it, I was about to listen ... No, I’m fine, really. … I know it’s not like me. … I’m really sorry I’ve worried you. …”
Withdrawing from Shane’s arms, she opened the back door to the porch. Placing her hand over the mouthpiece, she whispered with an apologetic smile, “I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home.” She stepped outside. “What? … Yeah, he’s here with me. … I am being careful.” Shane’s amused grin when she shut the door behind her made her smile.
It took her fifteen minutes to reassure Ellen that she hadn’t lost her mind. Then another five to convince her Aymee and Eric should be forgiven for being bad influences. Ellen acted like Jess was the good kid, rather than the one who’d spent time in juvie. Hanging up, she silently thanked the powers that be for the wonderful people in her life. She added her new-found family to that number. Topping the list was Shane.
Feeling her tummy flutter just thinking of him, she bounded up from the deck stairs and dashed into the house. Shane was no longer in the kitchen. “Shane.” Stepping into the empty living room, she heard the distant sound of water running and followed it down the hall to the master bedroom.
It had taken her a year after Ellen and Jirou had gotten married and left for Japan before she had moved into the larger room with the attached bath. She had continued to share the small bathroom with Eric when he was home until he threatened to take the master bedroom if she didn’t.
Jess opened the bedroom door and saw a leather overnight bag on the floor outside the bathroom door. Shane must have gone to his place to collect some of his things while she was on the phone.
Peering through the cracked bathroom door, she could see Shane behind the glass panel walls of the shower stall. The partially steamed mirror gave her additional angles of view. He was facing the spray, leaning into the water both hands braced against the wall. His head hung under the water. She’d always thought the showerhead was too high up the wall. Who knew it was the perfect height? The water cascaded against his head, running down the lines of his back, shaping his mouth-watering, firm ass before continuing down his thighs and calves. He was beautiful.
He must have heard her swift intake of breath, or maybe it was her heart trying to pound out of her chest. Hell, it could have been the flood of moisture pooling between her legs, but something caught his attention. His ears pivoted toward her and he captured her gaze through the reflection in the mirror, shifting to give her a frontal view. His deviant smile was slow and sexy as he rubbed his hand down his chest, across his abdomen, and then grasped his erection, giving it a gentle stroke. “You joining me, Beauty?” His dentes slid into his mouth.
Unable to take her eyes from the sight of him stroking himself, she pushed the door the rest of the way open, shedding her cloths with each step, licking her lips in anticipation. He released himself to open the glass door for her, breaking her focus. Meeting the heat in his eyes, she stepped in. Arms around his waist, she grasped the perfect cheeks of his ass, pressing her body to his, and felt the jump of his erection where it was pressed to her stomach. She whispered against one of his nipples, “I want to taste you,” before swirling her tongue over the pebble.
Using her lips and tongue, she followed the path his hand had taken, cupping his sac in one hand as she licked the tip of his head. “Ah, Beauty, you’re killing me.” Shane’s husky voice broke, his breathing labored.
After a long lick from base to tip, she sucked him deep into her mouth. Her mouth stretched over his girth, lashing him mercilessly with her tongue while withdrawing. Using his responses to gauge his sensitivity, she reveled in the power she held.
Shane groaned, throwing his head back. One hand was against the glass for balance; the other was buried in the mass of her hair. She tortured him. His face was taut, his movements jerky. He gripped her hair, pulling her head back, and bent over to bringing his lips to hers, plunging into her mouth like a man starved. Reaching lower, he cupped her bottom with his free hand and straightened, lifting her feet off the surface floor. She locked her legs around his waist as he pressed her back against the glass. Shane posed to enter her. He nibbled across to her ear and down to the pulse of her neck. The sounds of her pleasure echoed. Shane was an amazing lover. It didn’t matter that he was the only one she’d ever had. She knew it. She knew he put everything he had into bringing her pleasure.
“Please, Jess. Tell me what you want.” Trembling, he waited for her response. His expression reflected the restraint he displayed. He was holding on by a thread, letting her call the shots. She knew he felt bad about taking her blood without her consent. In holding back, he was asking her to forgive him. Reaching between them, Jess guided his engorged head to her tight, wet opening and dropped her head to the side. Her other hand cradled the back of Shane’s head to her neck. “Make love to me, Shane. I want you to take all of me.”
The rumble of Shane’s growl sounded in her ear, the rich sound decadent. A shiver of excitement raced through her. She remembered the instant heat she’d felt when he’d punctured her vein earlier for Jorie. She felt another rush of moisture between her legs.
Shane gave a hard thrust, plunging across her sensitive folds to her core and sinking his dentes into her pulse. Jess cried out in pleasure. Her blood flowed into him and everything Shane felt flooded into her, adding to the tide of sensations already ripping through her. Now their combined psychic and sexual energy rose to a higher plane. He pounded into her.
There was nothing gentle in this. She didn’t need gentle. She didn’t want gentle. Jess could feel the bunching of t
he muscles in Shane’s lower back from the building of his orgasm. Climbing intensely to the pace, her womb tightened, reaching for her own orgasm. Shane’s primal taking of her fed the ferocity of her own passion, a passion she hadn’t known existed within her until he stroked it. He ignited a fire in her blood that matched the fire his thrusts generated in the delicate nerve endings he’d exposed deep within her.
Shane made growls at her throat with each thrust. Her moans and cries of passion drowned out the sound of the shower running. Both reached for their own crest while stoking the explosion impending in the other. Hard and fast, their bodies slapped together. Brilliant bursts of color followed the crash of thunder. Every muscle tightened and her inner walls clenched, pulsing against his shaft. Her release ripped through her and she screamed. Her nails raked against his scalp and shoulders.
Shane gave a final three hard thrusts into the wet, silken vise Jess’s vaginal walls had turned into. Through the bridge created by Shane’s dentes in her throat, she felt his erotic excitement; the sting of her nails turned him on as they dug into his skin. His release rolled up from his toes to his lower back and slammed out of him along with his seed, deep into her.
“Fuck. Yes!” he roared, breaking away from her neck. The connection was immediately lost to her. Now she knew. That was the strength of his connection to her now. If she took his blood too, that was what they would share no matter what. Forever.
****
He’d never seen anything more erotic than Jess in this moment. Her head leaned back against the shower stall, her eyes were half closed, her expression one of complete abandon, and her hair was a veil of wet silk. Blood ran unheeded from the twin punctures at her neck, down her heaving breast and abdomen, and swirled at the spot he was buried within her before disappearing with the water down the drain.
Immortal Becoming Page 18