“What's been happening, Michel?” I asked without apology. He must have known I would ask that question sooner or later.
He didn't stiffen at the question as I thought he would, he just lowered his head and kissed my forehead again. When he did speak, it was so low and soft, I had to strain to hear every word.
“I ran.” He let a little breath of air out at that admission. “I have never had to question the loyalty of my line before. Never. To a vampyre their kin are the most precious of their assets, their possessions. We strive hard to accumulate strong and resourceful, loyal subjects around us. My line, I had thought, was infallible. Indestructible. I treat them with respect, certain freedoms, I give them challenges and reward success, but I am also quick to punish mistakes. If they do not respect me for my leniency, then they should fear me for my retaliation. I am vampyre. We are vampyre. It is what we are.”
His hand was still stroking down my side, the curve of my waist, over my hip and then back up to my breast. The path a slow, smooth glide of his fingers, warm but whisper quiet, like a butterfly dancing on my skin. I don't think he realised the effect it was having on me, he was too wrapped up in what he was saying, but I had to force the growing arousal aside and concentrate on his words. He was opening up, exactly what I wanted, I shouldn't be thinking of jumping his bones.
He said he had run, from what? His line or me? And he had questioned their loyalty, or is that our loyalty? Why?
“Because of Erika,” he answered my musings, no doubt also hearing my thoughts on jumping his bones, not that that had stopped his sensual stroking of my side.
Erika. We all mourned the death of Erika, but I hadn't once stopped to think what her disloyalty to Michel would have cost him. Michel had seemed to take it in his stride, upset, but had hidden his true reaction deep. I guess I now knew otherwise.
“You started questioning the rest of us, because of Erika?” I asked to clarify.
He sighed. “She was special, ma douce. I allowed her certain freedoms I did not the others. I had thought her more than just a member of my line, she was family, as was Bruno.” Whereas Bruno had died protecting Michel, Erika had died because she had sold Michel out. “I moved her into your home, to protect you. I endangered you, because I trusted her loyalty. I made a mistake and it could have cost you your life.”
Okay, so I understood that, he would have been cutting himself up for misjudging her, but we're not all Erika. I'm not Erika. Why did he have to move out and in the process crush my fragile heart.
His arms tightened around me and he groaned. “Oh, ma douce, I feel how much pain you have been in, I cannot apologise to you more. The longer I thought about Erika's betrayal, the more I saw that members of my line were taking liberties with my generosity. I began to doubt more and more of my vampires and eventually that doubt spilled over to you. I couldn't read your thoughts anymore and for some stupid reason, I associated that with your betrayal.”
Stupid was right.
He went on having heard that thought, because I threw it at him with force.
“Trust, ma douce. It is based on shared experiences, time and respect. We get in a car and drive it down the road and trust that the car coming towards us stays on their side of the line. We get in a plane and trust the pilot isn't having a bad day and fails to check something on his pre-flight list, causing us to plummet to the ground.” His voice softened as he whispered his lips across my cheek. “We give our hearts to our kindred and trust they will hold it dear and not crush us in a fit of madness. We don't know how precious trust is until it is lost.”
His lips found mine and hungrily devoured me, his tongue possessively sweeping inside, as though at any moment I would deny him that contact. He was taking the last opportunity to taste before it was stolen away.
“Can you forgive me?” he whispered, hot breath against my skin. “Please.” His body shifted, the firm, hard length of his recent arousal nudging at my side.
God damn, but if he didn't use everything in his arsenal to persuade. I felt his lips spread into a smile against my neck, his tongue lap out and lavish a wet, hot streak above my pulse point. “Please,” he begged again, shifting his body to cover mine. “Please,” he said again, his legs pushing mine apart, his erection pressed firmly onto my stomach. His lips lavishing kisses across my throat, down my chest, around my nipples. “Please,” he murmured, hot breath against a nipple, followed by a suck and small bite and a half stifled groan from the back of his throat. “Oh God, Lucinda, please.” I wasn't sure if he was asking about forgiveness anymore, the tip of his erection was now pressing into my entrance, demanding, seeking, begging for entry.
I moaned and arched up off the bed offering myself up to him again. “Please,” he pleaded as he hovered above my body, refusing to enter unless I accepted his apology. What could I do? I wanted him, I may still feel some of the heartache he had made me suffer these past weeks, but I knew my heart was mending. He was mine and I was his. Nothing was going to change that.
“Yes,” I breathed and as soon as the words left my mouth he thrust slowly forward, burying himself up to the hilt.
This time he did take it slowly, a languid exploration of my body, a slow release of wave after wave of pleasure, all for me, all to bring me so close to the edge then draw it out as long as he could manage. The strain clearly evident in his features, the pulse thundering at the base of his neck, the slight shake to his muscled arms as they held his body over mine. And then finally after bringing me to a shattering orgasm, he allowed himself release, calling out my name.
We snuggled in to each other feeling completely sated, exhausted and whole. Finally my world had righted itself, finally the constant ache in my chest had been replaced by joy. I was tired, but so happy. My Michel was back. I knew he would still have issues, his now deep seated mistrust of his line wouldn't simply vanish overnight, it would take time, but hopefully, he would let me help him. He would lean on me and with my support he could learn to trust again, or at the very least, be strong enough to do whatever it is that vampires have to do to ensure loyalty in their kind.
I knew he wouldn't ever approach it the same way I did, but I hoped at least now he would be strong enough, with me beside him, to face it at all.
He kissed my forehead and pulled the covers over us, encasing us in warmth. It had to be early morning, the club had probably closed by now and his vampires no doubt happy that neither of us had come out storming in rage. I began to relax into sleep, allowing my senses to take in all of him, his scent, his thrumming Sanguis Vitam in the background, the feel of his hard body against mine. I kept my shields down, not knowing if that was what was making it possible for him to read my mind, but welcoming his intrusion in my thoughts anyway. Man, I had come a long way since we first had this type of connection.
“Thank you, ma douce,” he whispered, just before I drifted off to sleep. “My promise to you is I am yours, for eternity. Please never doubt it. I know to ask your trust in this, is ironic, but I ask it anyway. Trust me. If I move away, it will be temporary and for your own good.” I stiffened at where this conversation was heading, suddenly not tired at all. “I will always come back to you, ma petite lumière, always. Trust in that.”
Just before I could sit up and confront him on what he was saying, he smoothed a hand down my hair, pulled me close and I felt his Sanguis Vitam flood through me. “Je suis desole, ma douce. Je t'aime.” A kiss, then, “Sleep.”
One command, laced in Sanguis Vitam, unhindered by my shields and I was out.
I woke with a blinding headache and a gut full of rage. Michel, that son of bitch, had bespelled me to sleep and a quick glance at the clock beside our bed told me I had slept the entire day and most of the next night. Ah crap. We were back to this again.
I sent my senses out immediately, down the Bond connection we shared, felt his slight alarm that I was awake and realised he was several thousand miles away already. You sneaky bastard. I will get you for this. I sent the
thought and then slammed my shields in place before he could offer up any excuses. I was done listening to his crap.
It took several minutes for me to stop fuming, I paced the chamber and ignored the throbbing in my head. That had to have been one hell of a doozy command he'd thrown my way. Maybe he was used to using force to get past my shields, but because they had been down, letting him in, trusting him, he had slammed the command home and knocked me out for over twelve hours.
Arghh! I knew exactly where he was going, to the Iunctio and he definitely didn't want me there, nor to obviously talk to me about it, otherwise he wouldn't have snuck off in the middle of the day, a whole 24 hours earlier than planned, to avoid discussing it with me. Well, there were ways of making him talk.
I lay back down on the bed, pulling the covers over me, I couldn't be bothered dressing, no one would see me and I was too mad to waste time getting dressed. As long as the bedspread covered me from any concerned vampire eyes here in our chamber, that's all that mattered. I settled my mind, listening to my rapid and angry heartbeat and fell with practised ease into the black void before Dream Walking. My Bond to Michel made it easy and in seconds I was standing in the plane's cabin, briefly relieved he didn't have any company and glaring at my kindred as he tensed on the couch, tablet computer in hand.
Michel can sense me in this realm, he can even see my shape, or aura, enough to get a firm handle on what I'm feeling and the expression on my face. He knew I was pissed off.
“Ma douce! What on Earth are you doing here?” he demanded, slightly shocked.
“You think you can command me to sleep and then walk out!” I countered, furious.
“I am on a plane,” he replied, apropos of nothing.
“Running away!” I countered, hands in fists at my side. God damn I should have grabbed a stake.
“This plane is flying through the air at close to 1000 kilometres per hour,” he replied, ignoring my temper.
“It's not fast enough for you to escape this conversation, Michel.”
His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. Great guppy impersonation, I thought mildly, enjoying the effect I was having on him.
“I am on a plane,” he repeated, through gritted teeth.
“Bully for you,” I replied, really not getting the hang up on the flying thing here.
“You Dream Walked to me on a plane, ma douce. That is... well it is...”
“Impressive?” I offered up, finally seeing where he had been going with the plane fixation.
“Yes,” he answered. “Damn impressive.”
Then he was in front of me, his hands running up my body, down my arms and pushing me against the wall of the cabin.
“You did not dress before you came here?” he asked, nuzzling his face into the curve of my neck, over his two newest marks.
“I was in a hurry to tell you off,” I replied, already feeling weak at the knees, then shaking my head to ward off the instant arousal he caused in me.
“Not your normal style, my dear,” he answered, finding my breast and making quick work of bringing the nipple to attention.
A small squawk came from beside us. “Master? Do you require assistance?”
“James,” Michel answered casually, not stopping his pursuit of me. “I am fine. Leave us please.”
Michel's manservant high-tailed back out to his galley, quietly shutting the door behind him. Gotta hand it to the staff, they never question the sanity of their master as he's getting off with an invisible entity in the cabin of his jet at over 40,000 feet.
“Stop it, Michel, you are not distracting me on this.”
“On the contrary, my dear, I think it is you distracting me. This could be entertaining, I have yet to have you when you are not even here. I am sure I can bring you to climax without even being in the same room as me, technically. Have you joined the mile high club yet, ma douce?”
Yeah, I was pretty sure he could convince me to join too, but I pushed against his chest and stepped away. He let me of course, I wouldn't have achieved the move otherwise.
“Why are you going to Paris?” I asked, picking up a blanket from the couch and wrapping it around me, before sitting down. His gaze had been altogether too intense. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then threw himself onto the sofa beside me, placing an arm behind my shoulders and pulling me against his side.
“I am not wasting your presence,” he said as I tried to push free of his grasp. “We can talk like this, if you insist on questioning me.”
Yes, I did insist and no, I wasn't opposed to being held in his arms while we did it. He chuckled beside me.
“Paris,” he stated, stroking my arm. “The Iunctio has requested a meeting.”
I stiffened, even though I knew in my heart that that was why he was going there, I still didn't want to hear it.
“Why?” I asked the obvious.
“I do not know, but it cannot be good.” And before I could ask the question, why he hadn't confided in me last night, he went on. “I did not want to expose you to their powers. We both know they have not forgotten you, ma douce. The longer you stay out of their sight, the safer it will be for you. I plan to face them alone, deal with whatever problem it is, without fearing for your life in the process.”
The Iunctio and I share a strange co-existence. They mistrust my intentions, thinking I will steal all their Dark and imprison the vampires as a whole, but because I saved their Champion, or leader and therefore the destruction of the council, they have sworn to leave me alone. Unless I fuck up one of their rules. That doesn't mean they haven't stopped keeping an eye on me. Gregor always keeps me abreast of when Iunctio spies have crossed his city, but sometimes that could be after they had been in ours. At least I knew the Iunctio hadn't relaxed its stance, whenever Gregor confirmed a spy sighting. My guard, had consequently, remained up.
It also meant, I had to keep a constant look out over my shoulder. A few weeks ago I had killed a member of the council. She had been trying to kill me in the process and bathe the world in Dark, but still, I'm sure that may have been a breach of one of their rules. So far, we hadn't heard from them regarding it, but I couldn't help thinking this meeting had something to do with that.
“They would have asked for your presence had this been regarding the Pandora,” Michel answered my thoughts. Such a familiar response, it no longer rankled me that he was in my head. It felt right. He squeezed me tighter in reply.
“Then it could be anything,” I said aloud.
“Yes, so can you understand my desire to keep you out of it until we know more?”
“I understand why you don't want me to tag along, but no, Michel, not telling me just does not wash. I need to know what's happening in your life, even if I can't be directly involved. I need to know. Don't push me out, I can't live like that again. I just can't.”
He pulled me up and onto his lap, a quick move belying the strength required to accomplish it and then brushed my hair out of my eyes.
“I am sorry, ma douce, I have forgotten how to communicate effectively it would seem.” He kissed me gently on the lips, finding them unnervingly accurately, despite the hazy state I must appear to him in this realm.
“I think I may be reminding you of a few more things before this is all forgotten,” I whispered against his mouth.
“Promise?” he asked, a dash of indigo and violet swamping his deep blue eyes.
“Ah-ha,” I managed to get out between his nips and kisses.
He moved me quickly but gently into a better position, this time straddling his lap, the blanket falling away and my completely naked body flush up against his shirt and trousers, his hands running all over my back, down my sides, around my rear. His lips finding my nipples and alternating between nips and bites and kisses and licks, first one side and then the next.
I threw my head back, closing my eyes in bliss and thought numbly, I should be telling him off a bit more than this, where was my self control? Deny me a good lay for a
couple of weeks and I'm insatiable.
He chuckled, that manly chuckle against my breast and then pulled back to flash me magenta swirls in his eyes.
“Now, about that mile high club, ma douce?”
Oh boy.
Chapter 8
Setting The Tone
I'm not sure if it can be called joining the mile high club when your body is still back in Auckland, but as far as Michel was concerned that was just a mere technicality. Who was I to argue when he made it his soul purpose for the next hour to convince me of that?
I finally managed to sink back to my body when his plane began its descent into Charles de Gaulle Airport. I didn't want to, but I was starting to feel the effects of prolonged Dream Walking and the emotional roller coaster of the past 24 hours. I didn't, however, wish to sleep as soon as I came to in Michel's chamber at Sensations, so after a quick shower in his uber-luxurious bathroom, pretty smelly shampoos and body washes later, I felt marginally revitalised, if not still a little achy and sore in all the right places.
I dressed in my usual garb, luckily I always keep my uniform here for those times we'd get caught out and not be able to make it back to the house at St. Helier's Bay, the only thing missing was my Svante sword and that was in the boot of my car. Armed with two silver stakes and a silver knife in my jacket I felt ready to face the last of the night.
I needed answers and I knew just who to get them from. Opening up the chamber door I jumped at the sight waiting for me.
“What the hell are you two doing skulking out here?” I demanded of the two bulky vampires casually leaning against the wall outside the room.
Marcus was flipping a knife over and over in his hand; hilt, blade, hilt, blade, hilt, blade, in a frenzy of speed that made it look like one continuous flash of metal in the dim lights of the hallway. Matthias was busy surfing the net on his smart phone, but stopped his perusal of whatever site he had been on, to fix me with a knowing smile, it was he who spoke first.
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