by Renee Rose
Trembling, moving with an urgency to see things through to the finish, Sasha returned her attention to Charlie’s cock, licking from balls to tip, flicking her tongue around the head. A drop of pre-cum emerged. Her heart leapt and this time the tears were her own. Charlie had been healed—Anka had released him from her vengeance.
Her lover’s head jerked up and he propped himself on his elbows, staring in shock, as if he didn’t dare believe it.
“Yes,” she whispered, lifting her mouth from his beautiful cock. “Yes,” she repeated, fresh tears coursing down her cheeks. “Come for me, Charlie.”
As she took him into her mouth, she experienced an incredible surge of power—not the dark evil power of before, but a light, joyful one.
Charlie felt the cum move down his shaft in surges. Normally, a sharp pain would block it from leaving his throbbing length, but after feeling as though the very head of his cock had been wrenched from his body, he now experienced an incredible rushing sensation, as if the pathway had opened.
“Come for me, Charlie.” Sasha’s face glistened with tears, a golden light surrounding her body.
His muscles jerked and he stared as she engulfed his cock in her hot, wet mouth, sucking it, making love to it.
The cum surged forward again.
“Sasha,” he choked.
She took him deeper and made a humming sound, the added vibration like a love song to his cock.
“Sasha,” he tried again to warn her, but it was too late. He ejaculated with an explosion of pleasure, lifting his hips into the air, shouting with surprised ecstasy.
He came and he came, the pleasure rocking his body off the bed.
Sasha had pulled off and took his seed across her tits, her face glowing, her mouth stretched in a wide smile.
He reached for her, pulling her down on top of him, nuzzling for the vein at her neck.
“Forgive me, Charles.” It was Sasha’s voice, but the words came out in Romani-accented French.
His body convulsed with shock. What in the hell? A hundred years’ worth of rage surged forth and he sprang to sitting, lifting a palm to strike her face. Even if he’d been sure she was Anka, he couldn’t slap her. Rushes of hot and cold rolled through his body and as he blinked, he thought he saw the black glitter of Anka’s eyes gazing from Sasha’s face.
He traced away before he did something he’d regret. He didn’t have a destination in mind and found himself on the top of a parking garage overlooking downtown. He drew in several deep breaths to calm himself.
What just happened?
He blew his breath out slowly, willing himself to relax. Had Sasha somehow channeled Anka’s ghost? Realizing he needed to find out, he traced back.
Sasha was pulling a t-shirt over her head. The heartbroken look he saw on her face ripped open his chest, but he held himself back from offering anything to her, not certain he could trust her. “What just happened?”
He sensed her guilt and his body turned to ice.
“I-I...I don’t know. I think I must be Anka. Reincarnated.”
He stared for three full seconds in shocked disbelief. “No,” he roared, shoving her dresser and causing it to flip upside down and slam against the wall. “No,” he repeated, as if by insisting, he could make it untrue.
She didn’t speak, just beseeched him with her eyes, her lips trembling.
“How long have you known?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “About a week. I’d been putting pieces together. I didn’t know it all. I was trying to fix it, Charlie,” she pleaded.
Hot anger made him flex his fingers. Before he had even formed the thought, he had traced. This time he arrived in the shower of his bathroom.
Sasha. The stricken look on her face the moment before he had traced burned in his mind. But she was Anka. His heart felt leaden.
You always just disappear and I’m left trying to figure out what I did wrong and how to fix it.
He drew a breath, returning once more to her bedroom.
She stood in the middle of the floor, looking lost.
He picked her up by her armpits, lifting until her face arrived level with his. “I need to leave, Sasha. I need to be alone.”
“Are you coming back?” she whispered.
He stared at her, his gut clenched like a fist. He couldn’t speak. “I don’t know,” he said at last. The pain in her eyes closed his throat. He lowered her gently to the floor. “I have to go.”
She nodded mutely.
“Don’t follow me.”
Her eyes glittered with tears.
He stood there like an idiot. There was nothing more to say. He didn’t want to be there, and yet he couldn’t leave.
A tear spilled from the center of her eye down her cheek.
He closed his eyes and traced to his place, then downtown, then back to the parking garage. He looked out over the city, fighting the urge to hunt and kill like a newly turned vampire. He craved violence, the taste of blood taken without consent. He held very still as the animal within him raged.
Tracing again, he returned to his bedroom and opened the safe in the wall, taking out the wooden box he’d been keeping since 1865. Inside lay the ruby necklace he’d bought for Anka, the one he’d meant to give her the night he found her with another man. He’d kept it all these years—a symbol of why women could not be trusted. Why no one should be trusted.
He took it out of the box, holding it up to the light. He remembered how pleased with himself he’d been, knowing how much Anka loved jewels. He closed his fist around the gemstones, the pain of her betrayal so fresh he still smelled her scent, felt the satin of her bedding.
She couldn’t be Sasha. She just couldn’t be. They had nothing in common, except for their power. Sasha was not driven by ambition or pride. She gave her heart openly. She gave without asking in return.
And yet...how could he be with her, knowing she was Anka? What if Anka spoke to him through her again? He couldn’t trust himself not to hurt her. His hand had twitched to reach for her throat and squeeze.
He was free of the curse, he should be celebrating. What a bitter irony to be healed only to discover the one woman he wanted to make love to was his worst enemy.
No. He didn’t see how he could ever be with her without hating her for what she’d done. For who she was.
Three days passed and Charlie did not return. Caught in a nameless hell of hope and mourning, Sasha moved through her days numbly, trying not to think. Which, of course, was impossible.
She saw Charlie everywhere she looked: in her boarded up windows, the overturned dresser, the bed, the sofa, the kitchen. At work, she remembered how he’d calmed Tommy. How she’d been wrong to mistrust him. She thought of the cool way he would regard her, the sardonic twist of his lips, the arrogance which had been more of an act than anything.
Anka did not return, and yet something in Sasha had changed. She seemed to know French, for one thing. And she felt wiser, as if she’d absorbed Anka’s life experience to become more of an “old soul”.
She read the rest of the books Charlie had bought for her and found her magic had grown even more powerful, perhaps from Anka’s integration as well. She worked in her garden, using the light from her hands to support the growth of her new plants and watched them respond, doubling in size in just two days.
On the fourth night after Charlie had left, a terrible anxiety twisted inside her. She needed to see him. She needed to convince him Anka was gone, and that she’d never hurt him. She could not take it if Charlie never came back. She needed to fight for him, even though she had no idea how she would manage a relationship with a vampire.
She walked downtown, looking in The Black Cat but seeing no sign of him or the other vampires. She walked down 18th street, wondering if there was any way she could find his place, having only been on the inside.
Her skin prickled as if he was close. She slowed, retracing her steps up and down the block.
There. A set of stairs goin
g down, to a basement door. Unusual for Tucson. She crossed the street and looked down the stairs, surprised to see the door ajar.
She jogged down the stairs. “Charlie?” She pushed the door open and gasped.
The three vampires from the fight in the alleyway were gathered in the living room, holding Charlie down. One of them wore a leather glove and held some sort of silver cup in his hand, which he thrust against Charlie’s bare belly.
Charlie hissed and she heard the sound of sizzling skin as the silver burned his flesh.
“We can go on all night. Hell, we can go all week. Eventually, you’re going to tell us where your pretty little fairy is.”
“Fuck. You.”
The vampire struck Charlie across the face with the silver cup, leaving another terrible burn.
She covered her mouth to hold back her scream.
Charlie caught sight of her and his eyes widened. Before she understood what was happening, her belly lurched sideways, as if he were hypnotizing her. He did not complete it, however, because in the next instant, his torturers also saw her and the leader flashed directly in front of her.
She kept her eyes away from his, hitting him with a ball of light. Her powers had increased; this time her weapon knocked him back on his ass.
Charlie was roaring, struggling against his two captors. “Sasha, get out,” he yelled. “Leave me!”
She sent another flash of light at one of the vampires holding Charlie, and all four vampires in the room bellowed in pain.
An idea occurred to her, but before she could move, the gloved vampire had traced behind her and picked her up by the neck, slamming her face up against the wall and pinning her there.
Pain exploded in her cheek and nose.
Charlie roared with anger.
She tried to cast another ball of light, but the radiating throb in her face consumed too much of her energy.
The vampire twisted her arms behind her back, holding both her wrists in one of his, the other hand still pressed against her nape.
“Sasha!” The anguish in Charlie’s voice brought her back. He cared. And she’d come here to fight for him. The ape holding her thought she needed her hands for magic, but she didn’t. She pictured Charlie and surrounded him in a black bubble, its walls too dense to penetrate.
“Sasha, what are you doing?” he shouted.
She flashed the brightest light she could imagine into the room—light as bright as the sun.
Terrible screams filled the air and her skin grew hot where the vampire had been holding her. She squeezed her eyes closed, her own vision blinded by the intensity of the flash. She spun around, but couldn’t move, her retinas burning from the light.
“Sasha! What’s going on? Get me out of this damn bubble!” Charlie’s furious protest brought her back and she released him from the black sphere.
He rushed forward, then stopped, looking at the piles of ash where the vampires had been. She stared, round-eyed.
“Did I...kill them?”
Charlie looked at her, a grim expression on his face. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry,” she said inanely.
He shrugged. “I’m not.”
She realized the grim expression was for her, not about the dead intruders.
“I told you not to follow me.”
She drew a breath and shut his front door. “I know, but I just had to talk to you. Please, Charlie—you can’t hold me accountable for something I did in a past life.” When he didn’t speak, she said, “ Or maybe you can, but I’m telling you I'm sorry.”
He continued to say nothing, just looked at her with the same expression—as if she were dead to him. But no, she knew he cared. He had just refused to give her up under torture. He must feel something for her, because he wasn’t the gallant type.
She tried to explain her thoughts. “I don’t know how karma works, but I think we met again so I could fix this, to heal the rift between us.”
He swallowed and nodded once.
“It’s not going to happen again, is that what you think? I would never hurt you.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched as if he did not believe her.
“Please, Charlie, I need you. I never wanted to be a fairy. You came along and showed me my power and turned my world upside down. I can’t do this without you.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I want to be your little fairy again. Please?”
Nothing in his expression changed. No softening of the grim lines of his face, his eyes still dead. “Come here,” he beckoned.
She walked to him. She sensed his anger, but she pushed back the undercurrent of fear it inspired. He wrapped her hair in his fist and pulled her head back, his fangs lengthening as he looked at her vein. As if in slow motion, he lowered his head to her neck, trailing a sharp fang along her vein. Her breath came in quick pants, her heart racing.
She realized she didn’t know this man—this vampire—at all. Would he drain her now to get even with Anka? Maybe he hadn’t turned her over to the other vampires because he wanted to destroy her himself.
He lifted her head and released her all in one swift motion. “Take off your clothes.”
Her eyes flew to his, her heart leaping. Had he forgiven her? Or was this an evil torture? She nibbled her lip. The way she saw it, she had no choice but to comply. She had just begged to be his. She had to prove her faithfulness, her trust. She shucked her clothing, dropping the articles at her feet one by one.
“Kneel.”
Her belly somersaulted. A game. Surely, this was his game. She lowered to her knees, praying he was not just humiliating her before he vanished once more.
“Hands behind your back.”
She grasped her own wrists behind her back and lowered her head submissively.
Charlie crouched beside her, stroking her hair back from her eyes. She saw emotion this time, but before she identified it, he lunged, tackling her and throwing her to her back, his hand cupping the back of her head to protect it from the floor. His fangs struck her neck and he drank, pushing the bulge of his clothed cock between her legs.
Panic flared, but as he continued to rock his pelvis against her sex, she exhaled and wrapped her legs around his waist. This was sexual, not angry….right? He wouldn’t drain her. Or turn her....she hoped. Once more, she felt her only choice was to give herself over, to prove she belonged to him. She twined her arms around his neck and closed her eyes, allowing the motion of his cock beneath his jeans to drive her passion.
The scrape of his jeans over her vulnerable bits came as a sort of pleasured pain—the more it dug into her, the more she wanted to feel it. She followed the sensations until she came from the friction against her clit, a small release, but satisfying just the same.
Charlie licked her wounds closed. “Did I say you could come?” he asked darkly.
Her belly fluttered. Their game. “No, master.”
“You will be punished for that.”
She shivered, excitement and fear mingling in anticipation.
He rolled her to her belly. “Bring your knees up under yourself.”
She rose to her hands and knees.
“Did I say you could use your hands?”
His cold, imperious tone made butterflies flutter in her stomach. She lowered her head and torso back to the carpet, dropping her arms beside her.
“Reach back and hold your cheeks open.”
She sucked in her breath, realizing his intention. Reluctantly, she reached back, taking one butt cheek in each hand and pulling them apart to expose her most private of places to him.
She heard a zipper and waited, tensed for his intrusion.
He rubbed the head of his cock over her pussy and she relaxed, relieved. But as soon as he’d dipped inside her slick channel, he withdrew and pushed against her back entrance, using her juices as the only lubricant.
Her anus contracted. “You’re too big,” she whined. “It won’t fit.”
He wrapped an arm under her waist and moved her hips for
ward and began to spank her with sharp, swift slaps. She let go of her cheeks and squeaked, trying to catch herself with her arms. There was no need. Charlie held her easily suspended as he warmed every inch of her backside in a flurry of spanks. He spanked on and on, until her pussy dripped from his dominance and her ass flamed. Had she not already been in such a submissive mindset, she might have resisted more, but despite the pain, she held still, surrendering to his punishment, knowing they both needed this. It seemed like he would never stop. Her breaths had turned to cries, then sobs and she knew her ass must be crimson.
He brought his hand up to her pussy, and she feared he’d begin to give her a serious spanking there as well, but he dipped his fingers into her dripping pussy and wiped them on her anus, working a digit into her hole before she’d realized what he meant to do.
She gasped, the sensation more pleasing than she believed it should be.
He lowered her torso. “On your forearms.”
She assumed the position and waited, a rivulet of sweat trickling down her breast.
He removed his finger and brought the head of his cock to her back hole once more. The pressure stretched her and she whimpered.
Charlie reached a hand around and flicked Sasha’s clit. “Open for me.”
Her obedience, even in the face of his coldness, cracked the armor he’d put up, his mistrust of her fading each time she humbled herself to him. Cruel though it was, he was testing her, using sex as punishment, his cock in her ass as dominance, his fangs in her vein as authority.
There she knelt, her ass in the air for him, reddened by his hand, her spirit fearful, but willing.
He circled her clit and she relaxed, arching her beautiful ass toward him. He pressed his cock against her anus with more insistence, even when she drew a hissing breath.
“Open, Sasha,” he advised.
She held perfectly still and he continued his pressure forward, easing into her hot, tight tunnel. He gripped her hips and pulled them back, impaling her ass with his cock, then easing her back and repeating the slow movement.