by Elle Jasper
My body involuntarily shook.
He came to me, then; close, his body brushed mine. His fingers eased over my shoulders, across my collarbone, down the front where my bra clasped between my breasts. He released it, eased the straps down, and, as I held my arms straight, I winced. With a gentleness that no longer surprised me, he pushed the silky material off my body and dropped it to the floor.
Inside, I was dying; outside, my body raged with pain.
“I know, baby,” he said, slipping his fingers through the waistband of my panties and easing them to the floor. “I’m going to fix that.”
My heart leapt.
Slowly, Eli grasped my shoulders and walked me into the shower. Although it was equipped with pulsating, massaging jets, he’d adjusted the water stream to a soft, soothing, and very, very hot waterfall. Guiding me beneath it, he followed. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. I did.
With gentle fingers, Eli tilted my head back, and soothing hot water glided over my head and my face; it soaked my hair and drenched my body. His hands smoothed my wet hair back; his fingers traced my nose, my jaw, the column of my throat. Already, the tension in my body began to seep out.
An aroma of jasmine and verbena filled the air; I realized quickly it was the shampoo that filled Eli’s palms. Gently, he lathered my hair; blunt, strong fingers dug into my scalp, massaged it, and I thought I’d fall asleep standing there.
“No, don’t do that,” he whispered. “Stay with me, Riley.”
I sighed. “I’m trying.”
His seductive mouth against my wet skin made my nerves leap. “Try harder.”
“Rinse.” He pushed me beneath the cascade of water and rinsed my hair. Next, the air filled with the same aroma as he lathered his hands. “Now be still. Don’t move.”
Then, he lathered my body.
I stood and allowed it for a little while.
Eli’s hands, slick with water and soap, glided over my shoulders, down my arms, intertwined his fingers with mine, and drew me close. His wet body pressed close to me, his lips sought the top of my shoulder, my throat, my ear, jaw, and slid to my mouth. In a slow, erotic kiss, his tongue grazed mine, his teeth scraped my lips, captured the bottom one, suckled gently.
Inside, I grew heavy with desire; my knees weakened, and I lifted my arms to his chest, trailed the muscles there; his breath caught in his throat; he captured my hands in his hands and lowered them.
“Not yet, Riley,” he said, his voice strained, his accent more prominent, his breath brushing against my ear. “You touch me, I’ll explode. Just . . . be still.”
“Then don’t kiss me like that,” I said.
I felt his smile against my skin. “No promises there.”
I sighed.
“Turn around,” he said against my cheek.
I did, and he pushed my hair over one shoulder and lathered my back, his fingers kneading deep into the sore muscles. I gasped with pleasure and pain, and it took every ounce of strength I had to remain upright. It took even more not to touch Eli.
There was a wet, sexy, naked vampire in the shower with me.
Eli’s low chuckle as he read my thoughts resonated against the tile, and his fingers continued to work magic. For now, I didn’t think of carnage, vampiric attacks, monsters, or fight clubs; I thought of nothing but Eli, his touch, and the craving he stirred within me. His hands glided over my body, every inch passed made my eyes roll back in bliss; I wanted him everywhere, inside, out, and I never, ever wanted him to leave me again.
His hands moved over my hips, encircled my stomach, and pulled my body against his. I felt his muscles pressing into my spine; his hardness pressing against the small of my back. His arms tightened around me, his mouth at my jaw. “I swear, I’ll never leave you again,” he whispered, his voice strained, somewhat painful.
I turned in his arms, and together we stepped out of the mainstream waterfall; steam rose all around us, and I locked my gaze on his. His dark, wet hair fell across his eyes, and I reached up and pushed it aside; I grazed his jaw and ran my thumb over his sexy lips. “Don’t,” I said quietly. “Don’t ever again, Eli.”
His mouth sought mine. “I promise,” he whispered, his tongue tasting mine.
I pushed him back. “Now you be still.”
A small smile tilted his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”
I gathered a handful of liquid soap. “Sorry.” I ran my hands over his chest, his shoulders, down his arms, over his stomach. “You’re gonna smell like a girl.”
He ducked his head and captured my mouth. “I don’t care,” he said, in between sensual kisses and nips. I lost myself in his drugging kiss; my hands glided over the muscles in his back, over his tight ass, his hips. The feel of his tongue against mine, his teeth scraping my lips, made me hot, wet, crazy. Blind with need, the pain of my battered body forgotten, I moved my soap-slickened hands over the cut ridges of his abdomen, lower, and grasped his slick hardness. He gasped in my mouth, groaned, kissed me deeper.
“Jesus, Riley,” he said, pained. “Control’s slipping.” He pushed me against the tiled wall, his hands roaming all over me.
“Don’t care,” I muttered against his throat, my hands stroking him. “Need you,” I panted, pressing my body to his. “Now, Eli.”
Without words, he lifted me; as I wrapped my legs around his hips, I slid over his hard length until Eli filled me completely. My head dropped back, drugged, weightless. Beneath the waterfall, Eli’s mouth tasted my skin, his tongue teased the hardened, sensitive peaks of my breasts; first one, then the other. With his fingers digging into my hips, he moved me effortlessly, the feel of his hardness sliding inside me making me crazy high. His mouth caressed me as his cock moved within me.
“Eli,” I gasped, and held on, our rhythm matching, and somewhere deep within me, an intense orgasm began like a faraway storm. We moved beneath the steaming water, fast, out of control, until the storm grew in strength and finally crashed. Wave after wave of climax claimed us both. I lost my breath, and spasms wracked my body. Eli held me close, his mouth pressed to my throat. The world tilted still; Eli’s lovemaking had that effect on me. I could do nothing more than hold on to him. I knew if he wasn’t holding on to me so tightly, I’d slip to the tiles below.
“I’d never let that happen,” he whispered against me.
“I know,” I answered, and ran my fingers through his soft, slick hair, tracing the shell of his ear.
Without words, Eli reached down with one hand and turned off the waterfall. Through the steam, his eyes searched mine. Slowly, he lowered his head, captured my mouth, and kissed me. Now, his control had returned, and he used it to savor my lips and my tongue, speaking to me with just his mouth; they were actions that spoke volumes over any words he could have whispered.
Still wet from the shower, and with me still clinging to him, Eli walked to the bed and followed me down into the softness of the down comforter. We shifted, and he pulled me close against him, my head resting on his chest, his arm completely around me and holding me to his body. He pulled back, just enough so that I could see his face without it being blurry.
Serious, cerulean eyes bore into mine. “I love you, Riley Poe.” He brushed a thumb over my lips. “Don’t forget that.” He kissed me, slowly, erotically, then looked at me again. “Ever.”
I opened my mouth to tell Eli how I felt, but his fingers over my lips stopped me.
“No, Riley,” he said gently. “Another time. When you’re really ready.”
Before I could respond, he pulled me against him again; resting his chin on top of my head. “Go to sleep, mostly mortal woman. We have a busy few days ahead of us.”
Prick , I said in my head.
Eli laughed, squeezing me a little tighter, and I closed my eyes, smiling.
Finally, I fought the exhaustion no more. I was content. I mean, how could I not be? Eli was naked. I was naked. We’d just had mind-blowing, soul-searching sex. The only thing better right now would be . . . I do
n’t know. Some corn dogs, maybe. Or a bag from Krystal.
“God, you’ve become such a hog,” Eli said, shaking with laughter. “Go to sleep, girl. I’ll get you food after you’ve rested.”
I laughed. “Okay.” I snuggled against him. His body temperature was perfect—not too warm, and definitely not too cool.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Sleep.”
Just before sleep claimed me, I felt relief that the monster hadn’t killed again; it was nearly daybreak, anyway.
How very wrong I was.
I experienced two kills, back-to-back. It was almost too much for me to handle.
I’d just felt that wave of exhaustion and contentedness wash over me.
I found myself walking along the city market. In the harbor, a tugboat blasted its horn, but I paid little attention and continued up the walk. Most of the stores hadn’t opened yet, but in the French Quarter a little café opened its doors to early risers; they weren’t about yet, but I slipped along the wall, to the back entrance of François Patisserie. Silently, I eased inside. The scent of freshbaked bread and pastries filled the café, but that wasn’t what made my stomach ache with need. In the back, near the double ovens and beside a long stainless steel counter, stood a plump, middle-aged woman, pulling a fresh batch of croissants from the oven. She had no idea I was in the kitchen with her. Rising on pudgy tiptoes, she reached for the top shelf over the sink, grasped a plate, then slid a hot croissant onto it. She smiled, moved to the counter, and removed the lid from a ceramic butter tray. With a knife she buttered her already-buttery croissant and took a big bite. She groaned with pleasure.
A feeling of impatience came over me, and I knew it was his feeling, not mine. I did the usual—scream, holler, but nothing came out, nothing worked, and I could not warn the plump baker that her death was coming.
No sooner had the baker woman swallowed her bite of croissant than I moved directly behind her. She must have sensed a presence, for slowly, she turned.
Her scream died in her throat.
The monster wasted no time. He lunged, held his hand over the woman’s mouth, and ripped right through her white cotton blouse. He sank his fangs into the flesh of her chest before finding the pulse of her heart. As he pierced the pumping organ, her warm blood gushed into his mouth and slid down his throat; fast at first, then slower, slower until her life force was no more. He dropped her on the floor, wiped his mouth with a rag left on the counter, and left.
The moment he stepped outside and noticed the jogger heading toward the river, I knew he’d kill again. I don’t know how, but I did. I thrashed, bile rising in my throat at the memory of the poor woman in the bakery, her blouse doused with blood, her dead face contorted in shock and terror.
Thankfully, the next kill was swift. The shirtless man jogging along the river was young, extremely fit, his chest cut with muscle, a six-pack to die for. He wore a Gamecocks ball cap as he ran, his iPod jamming in his ears. The moment he turned off the river and down an alley to cut through to another street, the monster was there. He stepped out, bumping into the man. The jogger stumbled, his blue eyes shocked to see someone else along his path. The monster waited for nothing. He changed; I knew this because of the horror on the jogger’s face. The monster ripped into him just as he’d ripped into the baker woman, nearly snatching the man’s heart out with his fangs. But the moment the hot metallic fluid pumped into him, he relaxed; he drank fully, and, when he was finished, he threw the jogger against the brick wall and walked away.
The last thing I remember before waking and separating from the monster, was his laugh.
It was oddly familiar. . . .
I bolted up in bed, my surroundings unfamiliar for a split second. Only then did I notice Eli was gone. I looked around, noticing how dim it still was outside. Eli must have slipped out the moment I’d drifted off. The exhaustion I felt was too real, too thick, and no way could I get out of bed right now. I must have closed my eyes at the exact moment the monster decided to feed; unless he knew me and was torturing me on purpose. If Eli was right, and Valerian, despite how Eli and his brothers had destroyed him, had manifested himself into one of his newlings, then he was the monster. He did know me. And I was pretty fucking sure he wanted to torment me to the fullest. He was succeeding.
There was nothing else I could do; no one I could save. I needed sleep. As selfish as it sounds, I lay back down, pulled the sheet up to my chest, and closed my eyes, allowing slumber to take me. Hopefully, Eli would return and pull me into his arms. I slept so much better with him wrapped around me. My eyes grew heavy; Sleep claimed me again.
I slept for some time; I don’t know how long.
When I woke, I emerged in yet another dream state. I was sitting in the dark. A dark room, a closet; I was on the floor, my back against . . . something. I felt a presence, though; someone was with me. Immediately, I knew who.
“Where have you been?” I asked angrily.
Victorian’s low, sexy soft laugh filled the dark empty space. “Why? Have you missed me?”
I thought about it. “Yes. And no.”
“Please, tell me why yes first.”
“I have no freaking idea, other than you’re my connection to why I behave and feel the way I do, since it’s your DNA clinging to mine. Yours and Valerian’s. And I sort of like you. When you’re not being so pervy. And I’m glad Eli didn’t kill you.” His soft sigh filled the shadowy space we occupied together. “And that pleases you?”
“Well, I don’t exactly want you dead,” I said. “Not sure why, but somehow . . . it doesn’t seem right.”
He laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment, I suppose.”
“If you want,” I said. “But believe me, I’m the only one who feels that way.”
“No doubt. And why not?” he continued.
His presence seemed closer; I can’t explain it, since we were in total darkness, but I felt as though his body was very close to mine. I shrugged, even though we were in total blackness. “Because it seems whenever I experience a terrible vision of the monster making a kill, it’s not long after that you appear. That concerns me.”
I felt the brush of his whisper against the column of my neck when he spoke. “Do you still think he and I are one and the same?”
I shook my head. “No, not at all. I’ve seen his skin, his arms—they’re not yours. But they’re Valerian’s, aren’t they? Manifested in another newling he created?”
“That you’ve paid such close attention to my physical detail makes me happy,” Victorian said, and that warm breath brushed my cheek. “Very happy. And to agree, yes. I fear your monster is my brother. He’s even more powerful than I ever was.”
“Well, hold on there, Tonto,” I said. “Don’t get too wound up. It’s kinda noticeable that you have youthful pale skin. The monster has older, tanned-like-leather skin. Didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out.”
He laughed. “You wound me.”
“Whatever,” I said, resting my head against whatever hard thing was behind me. “Where are you?”
“Here, with you,” he answered. “And see what a good boy I’m being? Not once have I asked you to grope me.”
“Freaking miracle,” I answered, and he laughed again.
“It should hopefully win me points,” he said.
“I didn’t know we were working on a points system.”
“I’d work on anything to get in your good graces,” he said somberly. “If only you knew how much so.”
“Well, Vick, you’re not too difficult to read,” I answered. “How is it you’re able to totally block Eli from reading my thoughts, or yours, when we have these rendezvous?”
“Hmm. Is that what you consider our encounters? I think that turns me on, Riley.”
I chuckled. “What doesn’t turn you on, Vick? Now answer the question please.”
Victorian sighed. “Very well. It’s my strigoi nature. That part of my DNA is more potent than you can possibly imagine
. You, Riley, have powers that have simply not manifested yet. When they do, you will . . . Let’s just say you will be amazed. Anyway, I am able to implant my thoughts, myself, into your thoughts and mind and keep any and all intruders out. I’m selfish that way.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” I said. “And it also leads me to know that you have complete control over me. You can make me do whatever you want, can’t you?”
“I confess, it’s true. But because I’m a gentleman, I restrain.”
I chuckled. “You get another point, then, I guess.”
“Something’s bothering you,” he said next. “I can tell. What is it?”
I sighed. “You mean besides my being linked in a killer’s body while he feeds?” I asked.
With a soft chuckle, Victorian answered. “Yes.”
“I killed a vampire tonight,” I said. “She was young, and it bothers me.”
“Why?” he asked. “It was either you or her, and I for one am more than glad you emerged the victor.”
I laughed. “God, Victorian, you’ve got to brush up on your modern lingo. You sound like an old fart talking that way. Sometimes I forget you’re so old.”
Victorian laughed. “Perhaps I do. Maybe you should teach me your modern lingo? Now, finish telling this old fart why killing the female vampire bothered you.”
I thought for a second. “Because she was young. Before she was a vampire, a killer, she was a human. Someone’s sister, someone’s daughter. Someone’s loved one. It just makes me sad.”
“We all were, Riley Poe.”
I sighed again. “I know that.”
“Well, as much as I’d love to use my wiles to win your heart, or better yet,” he said seductively, “just do as I want with you, I shall not. To show you my restraint, I will leave you now, untouched, unkissed, and without orgasm—although it pains me to do so. You are a breathtaking beauty while in the throes of passion. It’s a vision I see inside my head all the time. A true vision of beauty. Good night, Riley Poe.”