The Soul Collector

by Quijas, Tamela

  “Lucien?” Eva questioned, confused when he pulled back. His expression was bemused, and flushed with a tenuous bit of color.

  “Yes, Evangeline?”

  “No body jarring impact?” She questioned. “No gasping lack of air?”

  “Don't question the moment,” he whispered huskily. “Whatever reprieve I've been granted, I’ll gladly accept.”

  Eva trembled against him, the depth of his meaning echoing in her ears. His tongue traced her lower lip, teasing the sensitive flesh into tingling life. She inhaled a shuddering breath, savoring the undeniably earthy scent radiating from his clean flesh. Beneath her fingertips, his body thrummed. Her hands clutched his shoulders, the silk of his shirt smooth beneath her touch. The thudding of his palpitating heart and the rush of breath flowing from him was apparent, as was the bright stain of color flushing his cheeks.

  Eva closed her eyes as his features filled her vision. His gaze was dark with need as he grazed her lower lip with the tip of his tongue, and a low-pitched moan escaped her. Her lashes fluttered, and her grip tightened as she endeavored to remain steady, the world crumbling into a gaping nothingness around her.

  She floundered to suck in a desperate wisp of strangled air. His firm lips slid across her sensitive skin and brushed her jaw, leaving behind a scintillating trail of raging fire. Except for the gentle pressure of his mouth against her sensitive flesh, Lucien didn’t place a hand on her. Eva pressed closer, her restless and trembling body seeking his lean length.

  “Evangeline, I haven't any regrets, where you're concerned.”

  The muffled heat of the words whispered against her neck. He inhaled her scent as profoundly as possible. Before him, an unseen cloud of light showered off her flesh, dusting his shirtfront and bathing him in luminescence.

  He breathed in, again, dragging the bright star light deep into his lungs. She had become a forbidden drug to him and he drew each glistening fragment of her essence into his body, the most delicious tingling assailing him. He hungered for more of her taste and the air surrounding her, more of the warmth radiating from her ripe figure.

  Lucien pulsated with an all-encompassing need that seared his loins, and he slid a trembling hand to her curvaceous hips. Her reaction was immediate and she leaned forward, lifting her mouth to reach the insistent touch of his lips. The ever-tightening pressure of his fingertips anchored her to his side while he unerringly sought the luxury of her delicious mouth. A moan developed deep in his chest as he savored the simple action and the excited chill rising over her.

  She pulled away from the onslaught, her breathing a ragged and shuddering echo. The soft groan of his name fell from her and her trembling fingertips brushed his neck. His thoughts scattered to the wind, vanishing into nothingness, save for a desperately mortal need gnawing at him.

  He arched in sheer agony, his fingers digging into her waist before moving across her back and tangling into her hair. The solid warmth of her generous breasts came into hard contact with his chest, whisking him further into an ever-spiraling chasm of desire.

  He groaned her name as another unbidden tremor shot through him. Soft words fell from his lips, in a language he hadn’t used in centuries, regaling her with the sensations exploding from his heart. She mewed as his heated breath brushed her neck, the flurry of words indecipherable, but fluidly erotic. He fell silent while he sought the delicate flesh of her ear, his teeth nipping at the tender skin.

  “I feel so wicked,” she gasped, straining against him. Her breathless words were an understatement, for she wanted to do things to his body that defied thought and reason.

  “Angels aren't wicked.” His words sounded distant, even to his ears. He moved a hand from the curve of her spine and tenderly caressed the softness of her pliant body beneath the thin material of her shirt.

  Ah, but she was so deliciously wicked, a distant part of Lucien's dazed mind whispered. She was undeniably sinful, arousing, and temptation indefinable. Only she enticed him beyond practical reason, drawing his soul and his thoughts deep into the enticing warmth of her sensuous body.

  Eva's head fell limply back, her neck exposed to his fervent lips. She groaned deep in her throat, shuddering against him. Her delicate fingers plucked at the fine material of his silk shirt, pleading for him to relinquish the offending bit of cloth.

  Lucien's mouth hungrily sought hers, craving the satiny pleasures hidden beyond the delicate petals of flesh. The kiss was poignant and filled with an aching pain and need. He was drowning in her taste, savoring the caress of her sensitive flesh, and his aroused body throbbed.

  “I don’t repulse you?” He managed with a shuddering breath. Eva slowly opened her eyes, the pupils dilated, and her expression dazed.

  “Repulse me?” She repeated in a stupor, his words barely registering to her desire clouded thoughts. Lucien felt the weight of the world returning, his expression intensely troubled. Dawning comprehension filled her as she pressed her cheek into his scarred palm, placing her lips to the mutilated flesh. The slight flush of longing flooded her face and his carefully constructed willpower quickly crumbled beneath her touch. “You’ll never repulse me, Lucien.”

  “My glorious angel, abounding with fire and light, save me.” He managed to say. Stinging warmth filled his eyes, and he bit his lower lip. The bitter taste of copper became apparent, the forgotten flavor of blood redolent on his tongue.

  “The last thing I want to be is your angel.” The delicate pressure of her fingertips scanned the front of his shirt, releasing each button and revealing flushed skin. As the material fell away, she released a slow whistle of appreciation. Her hungry eyes examined the lean and tightly honed muscles rippling beneath the heat of his skin. A groan escaped as she ran tentative fingers over the well-defined planes of his quivering stomach, causing him to quiver in response.

  “Mon ange promis,” he gasped and captured her fingers, drawing the soft flesh to his mouth. Ecstatically, Eva closed her eyes while he laved each finger, jolts of fire shooting through the nether regions of her body. She was faintly aware of his hand reaching for her blouse, his repetition of her action executed with shaking fingers.

  Slowly, she opened her eyes when he halted in the seductive onslaught performed with his mouth. She stared at him, as he slipped the delicate material aside.

  For once, she was pleased with her breasts, watching the flame of desire grow in his shadowed eyes. She whetted her dry lips as he traced the deep valley of her cleavage, dipping slightly before tracing the swollen nipple beneath the gossamer scrap of lace. She shuddered, lost in the want filling her, and surged eagerly into his hand. He cupped the rounded mound, the flesh tightening against his unsteady touch.

  “Lucien, please.” She pleaded breathlessly as he caught her eyes with his own, his expression unreadable as her fingertips moved nervously across his leg. Lucien read the unspoken entreaty, and deliberately reclined on the bed.

  He held his breath as her quivering fingers unerringly managed the fastenings of his trousers. He arched, focusing on the ceiling of the room. His eyes closed in wonder as the turgid length of his maleness sprung free, proud, full, and craving the silken promise of her body. Lucien swallowed as her hand encircled the pulsating length of velvet. She slid her hand up and over the engorged flesh, eliciting a tortured groan.

  “Stop!” He growled with sudden viciousness, stilling the caressing actions. She examined his flushed features as he opened his dilated eyes, her hand tightening on the quivering flesh of his silken staff. His breath shuddered past trembling lips and his lean hips quaked with each pulse throbbing through him.

  His groan agonized as she released her hold and Lucien grasped her hand. He brought her fingers to his mouth, pressing a series of feather light kisses on the tip of each one and sending a shuddering tremor of longing through her. Their gazes remained locked as the warmth of his tongue slipped to her palm, circling seductively and performing a liquid trail of suggestive fire against the tender skin. Eva moaned
deep in her throat, her heart clamoring loudly in her ears as his strong teeth nipped at the tingling pad.

  “I need you.” She managed hotly while he pulled her unresisting figure over his throbbing body. Without uttering a word, he used one hand to release the swollen flesh of her aching breasts from the bit of material holding them bound into place. Swiftly, far quicker than her mind perceived, Lucien unerringly slid the last vestige of clothing from her.

  “Then, have me.” Lucien commanded and rolled her to her back. The contact of her flesh beneath him sent rippling waves of want pounding viciously through him. Eva's lids lowered, her dark lashes fluttering as she reached for him, unsteadily pressing her lips to his unresisting mouth.

  He hungrily tasted her proffered warmness, adeptly assuming control of the kiss. The tip of his tongue began a languid duel against hers, coaxing and teasing, mimicking the former pressure of her hand as she caressed his maleness. Eva shuddered again, hearing soft moans of acquiescence escape her, as she became a melting mass.

  “I don't know….I can't let….” He didn't seem capable of enunciation. Yet again, her name escaped him in a plea, echoing from whatever would have been labeled his soul.

  “Allow it, Lucien. For once in your existence,” she paused, searching for the correct words. Smiling seductively, she uttered instructions in the beguiling voice of a mystical enchantress. “Allow yourself to fall, Lucien. For once in four hundred years, let go of the weight of the world and fall.”

  “Fall,” he mouthed unsteadily, the unmistakable thudding of his heart apparent beneath her fingertips. He twitched in response to her touch and a surge of powerful want rocked him.

  “Allow yourself to fall.”

  His lips were inches from her tantalizing mouth, his eyes drifting shut. She was unaware her silken flesh drove him mad, each breath he exhaled catching painfully.

  “If I fall,” he appeared awed by the thought, the experience one long forgotten. Lucien's eyes closed, and then opened, attempting to focus on her beloved features. “Where will you be, Evangeline?"

  “Here,” she vowed, her heart obvious in the sultry depths of her warm eyes. “I’ll be here.”

  “Promise me, Evangeline.” He expressed in his rasping tones, his words hot on her skin. His hand moved to gather her lush form close. The turgid length of his manliness throbbed and pulsated against her, his need obvious with every beat of his heart.

  “Forever, Lucien.” She assured throatily.

  The words were an inaudible caress, and dashed the last semblance of his rigorously controlled thoughts aside. Inflamed to an unspeakable level that only she was capable to sending him, his hand slipped about her waist and ground her suggestively against him.

  “My precious angel,” he whispered, trembling with the need he couldn't deny. She set his senses ablaze, every nuance of her tormenting the hungry depths of his starved being. He held her pinned in a possessive embrace, driving all reasonable sense of sanity and convention from her, his hands molding tightly on the tender flesh of her hips. He sighed her name before the firmness of his mouth slanted across hers, stunning her into immobility with the magic in his tender assault, leaving her breathless.

  As a slow and yielding groan slipped from her, he released her lips from his mind-debilitating onslaught. She had been the one in control, relishing the power she held over him as she ruthlessly stroked his heated body. The tables turned as he touched her with a gentleness that defied her torrid thoughts.

  Lucien's body trembled against her. Tiny flickers of flames consumed him, before shooting through him. Low and throaty growls slipped from his parted lips, while centuries of harnessed restraint rose and crested. Evangeline was his angel, his fire, the woman he had sought for an eternity. He was unable to prevent himself from falling under her silken spell, and he couldn't halt his inflamed response.

  His scarred hand journeyed to the aroused swell of her breasts. Her ripe body arched with the contact, pleading for more. The unsteadiness of his fingers was scintillating, and she shuddered.

  Evangeline gasped at the pure pleasure burning through her. He surged shamelessly against her, tormented, and aroused. His skin was hot with the soft incandescence of unleashed longing, and his eyes darkened. He shuddered, his body tightening, and the blood roaring in his ears. Issuing a pained groan, he clutched her to him, his finger digging into her tender flesh.

  Eva moaned his name at the precise moment the surging length of his manhood filled her eagerly awaiting dampness. He gasped in wonder and his lids drifted shut as the pleasure of her throbbing sheath hungrily enveloped him, threatening to drain every vital fluid.

  Her hips rose, unconsciously pulling him further into her aching flesh. Lucien shook with the onslaught, his straining muscle heated with a fire long denied. Eva's luscious form arched again, drawing him deeper, enveloping him in her dewy warmth. A strangled semblance of a laugh escaped him before he pressed unerringly forward. He felt he were seeking her essence and arched upright, grinding the heat of her body against him.

  “Please, Lucien.” She pleaded and he eased anew into her throbbing dampness. He clasped her hip in one hand, and drew her more firmly to him. He focused on her sweat-dampened features, and his actions became even more deliberate. This moment had to last for it was the one memory he would hold close to the shattered pieces of his ancient heart.

  Eva strained against him, drawing him deeper, rising to meet his steady thrusts. He braced his weight on a single arm, and stared into the glowing essence of her beloved features. Unfulfilled hunger filled her dilated eyes, and the soft exhalations escaping her tight chest he hungrily echoed.

  Eva stared up at him with heavy eyes, engrossed with the glorious lines of his beautiful face and sensing the uncertainty that lingered. She lifted her hands to cradle his face, her trembling fingers tracing his jaw before trailing through his hair. Wordless, she pulled him closer, seeking his lips.

  Her body palpitated with need, longing for the completion she could only achieve in his embrace. Lucien jerked his head away, preferring to peer into her eyes. She trembled, her hands quivering, her nails digging into his skin.

  He continued, each movement a persuasively languorous and teasing dance of enticement. Eva surged against him, following each lethargic glide of his heated flesh. Their gazes locked before he sought the warmth of her lips, teasing her before drawing back.

  She clutched at him, her fingers digging deep into his flesh. Her eyes flew wide as she tensed, surging upwards and drawing him deeper into her throbbing flesh. The ripples of satisfaction were intense and penetrating, shooting across her quivering flesh, and tearing the last figment of her breath from her.

  A strange flash of color burst from behind her closed lids.

  “Look at me, Evangeline.” He commanded hoarsely.

  She barely heard him, the blood shouting in her ears and her limbs heavy, but she did as he asked. Eva stared at him with drowsy eyes, realizing he radiated with unexplainable light.

  His eyes swept her flushed and sated features. As his climax crested, the glow so often associated with her, intensified. The shimmering rays of incandescent starlight surrounding her fractured, blinding him as she gasped his name.

  Lucien clutched her to him, captured in the ethereal light that was such a part of her. Bathed in glorious warmth, bits of starlight seeped and flowed into the depths of his pulsating flesh.

  At the precise moment, when he succumbed to the aching need and plunged into her welcoming flesh, a single thought filled his mind.

  She succeeded in gathering what he still possessed…his soul.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The hunger of the hunt and the thirst for revenge will outweigh all else, and the shadows of our past shall rise into the present

  A distinctly putrid smell made Eva gasp as she opened her apartment door. The stench was so profound she clasped her hand over her nose and mouth. The act was in vain, the odor penetrating the smallest crevices between her fingers.


  She swung the door in with a nudge of her knee. Blinking furiously, her eyes stung before filling with moisture.

  Odd, she thought, her brow furrowing. She swore she took the trash out before going on assignment. She gagged again, fumbling for the light switch.

  The stench, now she considered it, wasn't rotting garbage.

  It smelled as if something had crawled into her apartment, breathed a final breath, and died.

  Managing a shallow breath, Eva ran her hand along the wall, fumbling for the light switch. The sconces of lights behind her flickered, and the soft white glow became a wavering bit of brilliance before sputtering and going black.

  She muttered beneath her breath, cursing the darkness. There had to be a problem with the electrical lines in the neighborhood, remembering the street was dark when the cab driver dropped her off at the brownstone.

  “Note to self, call landlord, and throw a bitch fit.” She muttered, her eyes refusing to adjust to darkness surrounding her.

  Despite the stench, something else seemed peculiar, she realized.

  In fact, the building was peculiarly silent.

  Unable to shake her apprehension, her frown deepened.

  A tenant for nearly six years, Eva knew her neighbors well, having exchanged more than pleasantries. There were the holiday greetings and thoughtful little birthday gifts or, at times, the home cooked dinner. In addition, there was the occasional exchange of a movie, CD, or book. Retirees, set in their lifestyles, they treated her as if she were their youngest daughter or grandchild.

  The upstairs neighbor, nearing eighty, was a devote fan of the opera. When she returned home from an early shoot, she always detected the soothing tones of a famous diva escaping from his stereo speakers. Eva would often hum along as she glided up the stairway.

  No arias greeted her.

  A retired woman lived two doors down, her home full of brightly colored parakeets. Their warbling tones, soft and musical, would twitter and echo down the hall.