Dancing Dragon

by Nicola Claire

  Our bodies quickly became slick with sweat, gliding against each other, our movements so hard and rough and urgent. I was screaming, he was groaning, the bed was banging against the wall and still it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. His lips trailed along the edge of my jaw and I thought perhaps he was going to feed from me anyway, despite my insistence he didn't. So, I did the only thing I could think of to distract him, sex obviously wasn't doing the trick. I nestled my face into his own neck, found his rapidly beating pulse beneath my lips and bit. Hard.

  Blood welled up in my throat, spilling past my mouth and down my chin. I swallowed reflexively and the shock of tasting all that metallic blood made me pull back from Michel's neck, but his hand came up and crushed my face back against his skin.

  “Drink,” he commanded in a rough voice. “Dear God, ma douce, drink.”

  I couldn't pull away, his hand was too firmly wrapped in my hair. He was still pounding into me even faster than before, if that was possible. But despite the shock of the blood in my mouth I was riding a high, so close to coming, even though distracted by the taste of metal on my tongue. Only a couple of seconds had passed since he had demanded I drink, but the closer I came to orgasming, the harder it was not to suck in a breath through my mouth. To do that, I would have to swallow.

  Finally, the urge to scream as I came overcame the abhorrence to tasting blood and I swallowed. And as the first full mouthful of blood washed down my throat, the orgasm exploded. I sucked in another draw of Michel's blood and I was gone. On a high so exquisite I thought I was flying. I drank and drank, more and more of his blood, until it was Michel who pulled me away from his neck, laughing at my pathetic attempts to get back to that enticing blood I could smell and see and still taste.

  “My little vampyre,” he whispered against my cheek and thrust one last time deep inside me, spilling himself and claiming my body once again. “Mine by blood and flesh,” he panted out as I milked the very last of him into me and he collapsed against my body fully sated.

  Michel's arms came around my waist and he pulled me close against his side, a possessive movement. As though he had no intention of ever letting go. His lips found his marks in the curve of my neck and he laid kiss upon kiss above them.

  “Mine,” he whispered and I giggled.

  I giggled? I took a deep breath in and realised the room was spinning slightly. Closing my eyes didn't seem to help, I could still feel the tilt of the room, the spin of the world as it slipped off its axis.

  “Why do I feel drunk?” I asked, my words alarmingly a little slurred.

  Michel pulled back and held my face by the jaw in one of his hands. “Open your eyes for me, ma douce,” he asked, gently. I did and watched as he studied one, then the other. “Your pupils are dilated.” He smiled at the slightly horrified look on my face. “You are drunk on my blood. It will pass. I have Antonio bringing you some food now.”

  Drunk on his blood. I closed my eyes and waited for the nausea to arrive. Humans don't do ingestion of blood well. I'm half human, but most of what ails a human, ails me. Still, no nausea came. Just a feeling of slight euphoria and a craving for more of Michel's blood.

  My eyes flicked open to see Michel still watching me. I looked at his calm, deep blue eyes for a second and then found myself trailing my gaze down his jaw and neck to find my bite mark. It had almost completely healed, but I could still see a faint mark and a little dried blood. My fingers came up automatically to trace over where I had latched onto his neck. The desire to return my face to that spot and bite again was phenomenal.

  I swallowed and his smile grew bigger. “You want more?” he asked innocently, tilting his jaw up and exposing his neck to me. A move unnatural for a vampire. They would only expose their neck to someone they trusted. It was a show of trust and respect. The neck was the most vulnerable spot on their body.

  Before I even realised what I was doing my lips found the skin in the curve of his neck. His low appreciative growl made me hesitate. He wanted me to bite. I closed my eyes and willed myself to pull away. If I was feeling drunk now, what would more of his blood do to me?

  Michel pulled me gently back and lay me on the pillows. “It is all right, ma douce. My blood cannot harm you. It is the Bond that allows you to drink from me. It is purely a bonus of our joining and close connection. Not all kindred can drink from their Nosferatu.”

  “Why would our Bond let me do that? What good can come of me drinking your blood? I'm not a vampire. I don't need blood to survive,” I asked, my words still a little slurred, but already starting to sound a bit more like the normal me.

  “Did you not enjoy it?” he asked, tracing a finger down the side of my cheek.

  Did I enjoy it? Hell, yes. It was like drinking a fine exotic wine. If I was a vampire, I'd say it called to me. I craved it even now. Was I a vampire-blood junkie?

  Michel laughed at my thoughts, but was interrupted by a quiet knock on the door to the room. He stood up smoothly and didn't bother to cover himself as he walked to the door and spoke quietly to the vampire on the other side. Antonio no doubt. I didn't move. Moving was not a good idea right now. Michel shut the door and returned with a tray of food. I could smell the coffee, it called to me too. He placed the tray on the bedside table and helped me sit up with several pillows behind my back. I didn't keel over with vertigo, so things were looking up. He slid back onto the bed beside me, fully naked and looking like a Greek god. Normally I would be distracted by the sight of him there, his long lean frame, muscled thighs and washboard abdomen. But my eyes kept going back to his neck.

  “When will it pass?” I asked, as I closed my eyes to stop myself from licking my lips at the sight of his pulse beating beneath the surface of his skin.

  “It will get easier, but it has been awoken within you now. You will always be attracted to my blood.”

  I felt the tray of food settle between us, the smell of coffee brought me back to myself.

  “Eat, ma douce, it will dull the effects,” Michel said taking my hand and stroking the back of it with his thumb.

  I opened my eyes and made sure I just looked at the tray of food. Concentrating on bringing the mug of coffee to my lips, then following it with several bites of a sandwich; cheese and ham. Both actions helped ground me, bringing me back to me. After I finished one sandwich and the mug of coffee, I went on to another, then followed it with a piece of chocolate mud cake before I dared to look back up at Michel.

  I managed to meet his amused eyes without feeling that undeniable pull to salivate over his jugular.

  “You have no idea how much of a turn on you drinking my blood is to me,” Michel whispered into the space between us. I noticed even thinking and talking about it had an effect on him. I couldn't miss it with him sitting there buck naked on the bed before me.

  “Don't tempt me,” I said evenly, enjoying the fact that I was no longer slurring my words. He just laughed. A beautiful full bodied laugh that filled the room with sunshine.

  I let his laughter wrap around me, I luxuriated in the feel and sound of his happiness. He was alive, he had won the bjóða. It could have ended so differently. I would have died if he had. It didn't bear thinking about.

  “Shh.” Michel's finger came up to rest on my lips. Sometimes, he forgot I hadn't spoken the words, that he'd only heard them in my mind. “We are here. We are together. And you, my little vampyre, are mine by blood and flesh. Forever.”

  “What does that mean, by blood and flesh?” I asked, picking up a slice of fruit and nibbling on it. I was still ravenous. The munchies after a hard night out on the town. That piece of fruit was consumed before Michel spoke and I'd given up on the pretence of eating delicately and was biting into another sandwich by the time he replied. This one: cold roast beef and chutney.

  “Vampyre can feed off one another. Not without the blood of humans to survive of course, but for emotional connections. Those mated to another vampyre will share blood. It is considered more than just special; preci
ous and a privilege is perhaps a better description. Intimate. To be mated and share blood and flesh is the most enduring connection our kind can share. A vampyre will only ever have that kinship with one other in their lives. You were already my joined kindred, Bonded, Sigillum shared. My wife. Now you are also my vampyre mate. There will be no other for me, ever. You are mine.”

  “But I'm not a vampire,” I insisted, feeling a little discomfort at the finality of his words, but also a little possessive at the thought that he could have possibly walked away before, but could never now.

  He smiled slowly at me. “My vampyre no longer recognises you as human. You are my vampyre mate, it is how it perceives you. It is therefore the truth.”

  Michel had talked of me being his vampire mate back in Auckland, when he had first shown me the true vampire within. He had never exposed himself to that degree before. I had asked it of him. We had been estranged and I wanted him to know he could be himself with me, he did not need to hold anything back. He hadn't. I had been slightly alarmed at the depth and strength and animalism of his vampire, but not surprised. And now his vampire had further proof that I was his vampire mate. And for vampires, what they perceive as true, is true. I was his vampire mate despite being only a half-human Nosferatin.

  “It is easier for my vampyre to see you as its vampyre mate because you are Nosferatin. I am not sure it would be possible with a human, but you are of the same ilk as us. Once of our kind. My vampyre recognises that. I think, it has craved this connection for some time.” His fingers traced down the side of my neck over his marks and my Sigillum.

  His gaze stayed there for a while and then he physically shook himself free of the moment and took a deep breath in.

  “How are you feeling, ma douce?”

  I did a mental check of my body, tilted my head from side to side, stretched my muscles and decided I was no longer drunk and also feeling fighting fit. I wasn't hungry anymore either. I told him so.

  He picked up the tray of left over food and returned it to the side table then turned his attention back to me. Hunger and desire flashed through his eyes, making a tinge of amethyst seep into the blue.

  “I need to taste you, ma douce. I am sorry, I would wait longer for you to recover from our earlier experiences,” - he was talking about the back of the Rover, how he had almost bled me dry - “but I need you. Now.”

  I saw a muscle jump in his jaw, his eyes deepened to a violet with a hint of magenta on the edges. Maybe it was the fact that we had just spent an hour together and he hadn't indicated the need to feed from me during all of that time. We had made love, I had eaten. Hell, I had coffee on board now, the world was back on track. But, whatever reason, the thought of him feeding from me again wasn't nearly as scary as I had expected it to have been.

  I nodded slowly, keeping my eyes on his.

  He shifted his weight, then moved to crouch above me on all fours. Sometimes, Michel seemed bigger than life. Right then, the hunger and desire in his eyes - the way he licked his lips and kept a firm gaze on my neck; the pulse beneath my skin - made him seem like a big and lethal predatory beast. Michel's vampire was close to the surface, but still I didn't feel fear. I understood that hunger, that blood lust. I had never truly understood it before.

  He pulled me down the bed, off the pillows, so I was flat on my back beneath him. Every movement he made seemed powerful, a carefully controlled strength. It was the potential of him unleashing all that force that thrilled me. To be the subject of someone's nearly uncontrolled craving is heady. It made me feel more beautiful, more desirable than I had ever felt before.

  I found myself tilting my chin up, exposing the long line of my neck. The growl that came from the back of Michel's throat would have been heard throughout the entire house. It rattled the walls and thrummed inside my veins. I moaned as heat and lust rolled through me at the sight and sound of him. His long, hard sex jerked in response, no doubt he was smelling my desire, feeling my emotions through the connection we shared. His eyes filled with magenta, his fangs slid down and out slowly. He let me see it all.

  I didn't shy away, but kept my neck exposed, an invitation to take what he wanted. His growl deepened at my lack of fear and then he moved.

  I had expected his fangs in my neck, on the side I had displayed, like a delicacy on a gilded plate. But, it wasn't my neck he bit, instead the sting of his bite was at the crease of my upper thigh. He had found my femoral artery and my blood gushed from the punctures and into his mouth with the full force of my now rapidly beating heart.

  A purr started up in the back of his throat as his words caressed my mind. My blood and flesh, to your blood and flesh. You are mine as I am yours. Forever. I got the feeling the words meant more than they should have. The whole moment was worth more than it should have. Me drinking from him, him drinking from me. The words spoken in my mind and somehow I found myself repeating them back to him in his, could only mean one thing. This was a ceremony of some sort and he had engineered it.

  His Sanguis Vitam filled the air, my Light responded with equal fervour. The room began to hum with magic and power. If the walls were rattling before, they were shaking and quaking with force now. The windows rattled, the floor bucked beneath the bed, the whole house creaked and groaned. And through it all I could hear those vampires in the house shouting out in alarm.

  I could hear Samson's voice. Antonio's reply of shock. And then Avery's sardonic tone of amusement. But it all paled to the feeling inside me. The all encompassing feeling of rightness. It felt as though Michel was inside my skin. I had no doubt it was the same for him, me inside his. I could feel his emotions; joy, satisfaction, smugness, ownership. Then quickly followed by love, desire, commitment. He would have felt my slight shock, bewilderment, even a little fear. Then all of that washed away with the realisation he loved me and this was just a natural progression for his vampire-within. It owned me, it wanted me to own it, this was purely the next and ultimate step in our relationship. A melding of the connection we already shared.

  By the time Michel finished feeding from me, we were both panting ragged breaths. I ached with a fierce need for release. I ached for him. He licked his bite marks closed, licked his lips and then looked me in the eyes. His growl hadn't stopped at all. The predator was not finished. I felt a thrill of excitement course through me, adding warmth and heat to that already present between my legs. I squirmed slightly under his predatory gaze, his growl deepened in response. He wanted more.

  A small smile spread across my lips. If his vampire wanted to play, I was happy to oblige. I would never have considered doing something like this before, but I felt safe, loved, despite the growl of the hunter before me, despite the look of hunger and need in his eyes. This was Michel. All of him. He was a part of his vampire and his vampire was a part of him.

  I shifted beneath his still crouching form, preparing myself for what was to come. A small moan of delight escaping my lips at the prospect of teasing his vampire and what would follow because of it. Then I rolled over and started scrambling off the bed.

  He pounced before I made it even two feet away, I laughed at his fierce hold and appreciative growl. He lifted my rear off the bed with one hand, a gentle squeeze at my hip to let me know he was playing too. And then, pushing my head down into the covers tenderly, his flat palm moving to stroke my sensitive skin between my shoulders, sending tingles throughout my body. I knew what was coming and I craved it, I arched my back and made myself available for him, spreading my legs and moving my butt back towards the predator behind me.

  He took me in one swift plunge, his growl becoming a moan, mixed with my cry of need. I gasped out in response, "Yes!" His movements didn't falter, so purposeful and firm and urgent. Within half a minute I was coming and his hand on my back moved around my waist, lifting me off the bed and back up against his hard chest. His hand then grabbed hold of my breast and kept me still as he continued to rock into me from behind. Then, as I had already expected, his teeth and
fangs came down on my shoulder fixing himself to me and holding me trapped. Gently, but securely. The hand he had resting on my hip, came up and tilted my head to the side and back, exposing my neck in what was now a familiar vampire mating position.

  I luxuriated in the sensations he was creating, the possessive hold, the ardent thrusts, the moans of delight and then the scene shifted, those sensations falling away until I stood in a paved garden of such exquisite beauty. Statues and pale cream pillars, steps leading up to a water feature, intertwined with a verdant green garden, lavender petals and pink rose buds tumbling from laden bushes. I spun around to get my bearings, to figure out what the hell had just happened to take me away from my kindred, and came to face to face with a dragon.

  I sucked in a breath, preparing to fight or defend myself and the dragon morphed into Michel. Him, but not him. His body, but more. Then slowly, as though he didn't want to scare me, he changed back to the magnificent mythical creature of before. I could see scales catching the light when he shifted his muscular frame. Large leathery wings extending out behind him when he flexed his shoulders. One minute it was Michel's body I saw before me, the next a dragon. So big and beautiful and bold. The eyes I looked at in Michel's body, in the dragon when he showed me his form, were different from Michel's usual eyes, but also familiar. Serpentine, more compelling and totally addictive. And magenta. Michel's magenta.

  This was Michel's vampire-within. I was certain and I felt all fear simply disappear at that knowledge.

  The dragon, the vampire-within's, eyes were all magenta, no other colour, but seemed so natural, like it was only the colour that should ever reside in his vampire's eyes. Inside his dragon’s eyes. I love Michel's blue eyes, they are the deep, deep blue of the Atlantic Ocean, sometimes on rare occasions, they are azure like the Mediterranean Sea. So deep and true and mesmerising. But, the magenta of his vampire's eyes trapped me and pulled me in too, until all I could see was him.