He started chuckling softly against me, his chest rising and falling beneath my own.
"Hey!" I protested. "Are you laughing at me?"
"I have never been called perfect before, ma douce. If only you knew what was going through my mind right now, having you back in my arms. You would not think me so perfect."
Oh, but he was wrong. The thought that he still wanted me, still fantasied about being with me, but was still able to fight the claiming his vampire had subjected him to, proved beyond a doubt in my mind that he was perfect. I was sure, once I was physically well again, that I would gladly welcome back his vampire's urge to claim me. But right now, what I needed was comfort and sleep.
"Very well, my love." He swung me up in his arms and carried me from the room. As he lay me gently down on the bed, he whispered against my neck, "Sleep, ma douce. And know that I love you, need you and will always desire you. Sleep."
I didn't need to be told twice, I was asleep before he'd managed to pull the duvet over us, the sound of his steady heartbeat thrumming through his chest and into my ears, so very comforting.
I dreamt of Jonathan, not a wanted dream, not a happy dream at all. I could see his face when he was trying to punish me, his anger and determination to make me pay for trying to escape. I could feel his need to taste my blood again. His face broke into a grin as he held me down on the floor, his fangs obvious as they peeked out past his curved lips. He ran his tongue over one fang slowly, growling in pleasure when I shuddered beneath him in fear.
I tried to fight back, but my arms wouldn't do what I asked them to do, my legs felt like dead weights, unresponsive, as though they weren't even there. He felt so heavy, so hard against me, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't scream, I couldn't move. I was useless, I was pathetic. I knew he would start hitting me, scratching me, hurting me and I was just going to let him do this, it was all my fault. His eyes sprang open and he held me in his glaze. I knew it was a glaze, the amber and ochre in them turning to a more malevolent maroon and bitter-sweet burgundy, showing the red that vampires need when they glaze.
“You are mine, Lucinda. I will have you again. You cannot escape me and you will pay for your disrespect.” His hands held my arms above my head rigidly still. “Say it,” he purred, as the maroon and burgundy swirled in his eyes, still holding me captive. “Say you are mine.”
I fought it, I really did. I have a certain amount of natural resistance to a vampire glaze, but he is strong and I was still so weak.
“Say it!” he ordered, his voice wrapping around me and pulling me towards him. I felt my head leave the floor, my body strain against his hold on my arms, trying to lift my face to whisper the words against his ear. “Say it!” he ordered again, banging my hands back against the floor, making the bones in my wrists rub against each other as he held them so tightly, shooting stabs of pain down my arms. “Say it,” he whispered against my lips.
“I am yours.” The words were uttered by me, but they didn't sound at all like my voice. My mind was screaming no, the words said otherwise. His lips peeled back triumphantly in a mockery of a smile and I just felt sick, sick to my stomach. And then I froze, as hot breath from his mouth trailed across my cheek, over my jaw and down my neck, until his fangs bit into my pulse and my blood poured down his throat.
It was the bathroom door slamming open against the wall of the bedroom that woke me and broke the spell. Michel's weight as he landed on the bed beside me, his wet arms and body lifting me up off the sweat soaked sheets and his words - full of curses spilling out his mouth, as he cradled me - filling the night air and waking me up fully.
“That fucking bastard! I am going to take great pleasure in killing him slowly and very painfully,” Michel managed to get out between clenched teeth.
“Get in line,” I muttered and then promptly threw up two courses of roast lamb and vegetables all over my kindred and the bed. “Ah, crap.”
Once the vomiting stopped and the world steadied again, Michel carried me to the bathroom and stepped under the still running shower with me in his arms. I could barely stand, but he held me firmly, letting the water wash all the regurgitated gunk off of us both and then starting to soap my body up with the utmost care. His jaw was rigid, his lips in a thin line, his eyes flashing magenta - and only magenta. Man, he was fuming.
I couldn't blame him, not only was he pissed off at Jonathan invading and manipulating my dreams, but I was betting he was pissed off at himself for leaving my side, even briefly to shower. No doubt thinking had he been with me in bed, he would have picked up on the dream sooner and stopped it. Of course, I didn't blame him, at all. All blame was going squarely on Jonathan's shoulders and no one else's.
I reached up and touched my neck where Jonathan had bit me in the dream, Michel noticed and forcefully relaxed his unyielding stance. “There is no mark. It was only a dream, not a visit.” I'd had visits in dreams before where a vampire had abused my neck, almost biting me. Michel could also visit me in a dream. But, that other vampire, Max, had left me with bruises after his visit, so the fact that Jonathan had not managed to visit but only influence the direction of my dream, had me collapsing in relief against Michel. That meant the glaze Jonathan had attempted in the dream was not legitimate. Thank God.
“My guess is he is trying to disorientate you, confuse you. In your current state he is hoping you would not know the difference and would perhaps believe the glaze was true.” Michel's voice was soft and careful as he held me under the warm spray. I got the feeling he was thinking how possible that scenario could actually be.
He'd heard my thoughts, of course. “Dreams can be very influential. Under certain circumstances they can be as destructive as a vampyre's glaze.”
“Can I do anything to stop him invading my dreams again?”
“Get better. The stronger you are, the more resilient you will be to invasions in your sleep.”
Get better. I glanced at the clock on the bathroom wall, it was only 11pm, my 24 hours were not yet up. I sent my senses out into the night and quickly found Michel's vampires dotted around the property and then vampires further afield through the city, the country and with a sense of pure joy, throughout the world.
It was still a little sluggish and I was picking I was still missing something else in the scenario, but it was a definite improvement.
24 hours, I was beginning to believe Michel was right. I would have me back again and it would be soon. I lay my head against his chest, my arms wrapped around his waist and let the water run over us.
After a few moments of just luxuriating in the feel of him and the warm water that surrounded us, I said, “I don't want to go back to sleep, will you sit with me, keep me awake.”
I felt his chest rise and fall in silent laughter. “I will try my best to keep you distracted, .”
“Awake and resting Michel, emphasis on resting.”
He was truly laughing now. “I am sure I can find a way to let you relax and still adequately distract you, my dear.”
Yeah. I bet he could. I bet he bloody well could too.
Chapter 14
Haunted
True to his word, Michel kept me relaxed and distracted, but never overstepped the mark. His restraint and careful attention left me reeling. The more time I spent in his arms, comforted but not coveted, the more I wanted of him. Eventually he caved, lavishing my body with his. But it was so beautiful. So intimate, so special. I knew without a doubt, he loved me and I loved him and making love was the ultimate way to express how we felt towards each other. Several times he washed my body with his Sanguis Vitam. It was instinctive to let him in, even allowing him egress as deeply as Enrique had accidentally had on the plane. It was a gift, as Enrique had said, it was so pure and intimate and private. Something for only us. Every time his warm Sanguis Vitam flowed through me, I felt a little better. A little more of me settling into my bones. Michel has always been able to heal me physically, now I wondered if he was in fact healing more than that. M
aybe even healing a part of my mind.
By the time the shutters whirred up again, signalling the third night home in New Zealand for me, he was grinning like the cat that had got the cream. I wasn't quite sure who was more satisfied, me or him.
More and more memories had come flooding to the surface throughout the day as well. My Light had made an appearance a couple of times, especially right at the moments when Michel was working his hardest to distract. That always got an extremely triumphant look on Michel's face when that happened. I'm sure he made it his main mission to get me to light up like a firecracker as often as possible throughout those daylight hours.
The first evidence that I was really getting me back was when memories of the Prophesy, Nero and Nut came rushing back in. I had accepted Nut was my goddess, but it was only when I remembered how I had met her, visited her and heard the children laughing around her, that everything fell into place. The memories of Nero however, were the hardest. Not only had Jonathan taken my memories, leaving me feeling lost and adrift, but by doing so, he had made me relive them all over again when the memories returned.
The good memories did outweigh the bad and as pleasant as it was to relive them, their effect paled in comparison to the bad. I couldn't help crying all over again at the loss of Nero. Michel just held me, feeling my emotions along with me, stoically standing by me and sharing each wave of grief, despair and loss. And then successfully distracting me again afterwards, saving me from experiencing the replays in my head for hours and hours.
But, the memories of the Prophesy had the most lasting effect on me. The knowledge of who or what I am. The devastating weight of what it all meant. The only thing making it easier was the fact that I had come to accept my fate before my trip to America, I had accepted my role in the battle to come. And as scared and frightened as I was at what that may entail, I had accepted my part in all of it. I kept telling myself this when it threatened to consume me again now.
With the knowledge of the Prophesy came my powers. First the Sanguis Vitam Cupitor, or Blood Life Seeker powers. I played with them for a while, sending my senses out and feeling the Dark vampires throughout the world. Plotting their positions on my mental globe, spinning it around and around and watching their flashing red lights blink as the map rotated.
Next was the Prohibitum Bibere, or Forbidden Drink powers. Likewise I played with that one, opening and closing the door in my mind that let the Dark vampires see me, sense me, And as uncomfortable as the sensation was to watch them long for me and begin to seek me again, I forced myself to keep the door open, knowing they needed to come to me and even if I wasn't quite ready, I needed to let them. I felt strong enough to do that, despite the final Prophesy power and its continued weak link.
The Lux Lucis Tribuo, or Giver of Light. I could feel it within me, but no matter what I did, I couldn't figure out how to use it. I played with my Light, moulded it, sent it out around the room and even took Michel by surprise and washed him in it when he hadn't been expecting anything of the sort. It was pure power to watch him writhe in uncontrolled pleasure due to my Light. I'm not sure how Nut would have felt about my use of it, but I was hoping she'd allow me one session of non-Prophesy related usage to satisfy my kindred. And satisfy him it certainly did. It was some ten minutes before he could move or utter a single word and as soon as he could he paid me back, murmuring something like, payback's a bitch, as he threatened me with images in my mind of every conceivable way he would seek his revenge when I least expected it most. I hoped it would be soon.
So, it was unsurprising that I finally felt my pull, the evil-lurks-in-my-city pull. I wanted to rush right out and face it, I was itching to get a stake in my hand and get my butt back in the metaphorical saddle, but Michel would have none of it. Forcibly holding me down on the bed until Amisi dealt with the threat and the pull evaporated.
I wasn't too happy about that.
“You can get off me now, she's staked him,” I growled, staring up into his impassive, but determined face.
Michel just glared at me a moment longer, obviously unsure if I was telling the truth. Even though he could read my mind and emotions, I'd given him a run for his money just now. He was wearing a few decent bruises and his breathing was still a little out of control.
“It has been a while since we have sparred. You need practice.” He followed up this statement with a rough thrust of his hands holding my arms above my head on the mattress of our bed, just in case I planned to disagree. Not that I had, he had been able to hold me down successfully after all, his body now securely pressing me into the padded bed below us, but I wouldn't let him get away with taunting me.
“Then why haven't you released me yet?”
“Maybe I intend to teach you a lesson,” he growled leaning his face down to run his fangs across my jaw and around to my ear, gently biting with one of his sharp incisors, drawing blood and making me gasp. His tongue quickly lapping up the drop of red at his puncture site.
“Is that...” I swallowed, trying to get myself under control. “Is that the best you can do? I mean it's hardly a challenge, is it? I'm not even armed.”
Oh he liked that, his growl was deep and long. “What weapon would you choose?” His fangs going across my jaw on the other side of my face and finishing up at my other ear with another nip and suck.
Oh boy, he wasn't playing fair, but I was also amping for a fight. I needed it, I craved it. I would so damn well have it.
What was I thinking? Oh yeah. “Svante,” I managed to get out in one quick breath, his fangs now dancing along my neck, past my throat and back around the other side on my neck to find my pulse. He didn't answer straight away, he was too busy sucking on my pulse, his fangs scraping either side but not entering. I arched off the bed, my body begging for him to bite. Shit. I was addicted to his touch, his fangs, his drinking of my blood. Humans can quickly become addicted to a vampire's bite, but as I am joined to Michel, that's not actually the case. The joining does not allow one member to hold that sort of influence over another, that's why Michel can no longer glaze me or influence me with his Sanguis Vitam, only when I let him by lowering my shields. Maybe I was letting him have this addictive control right now. Maybe it was all my choice. Shit.
“You were saying?” he asked, moving down past my collar bone and to the dip between my breasts.
Before he could distract me further, I replied. “Svante. I already said it, you're not paying attention.”
He laughed against me. “I assure you, that you have my undivided attention right now.” His mouth going around a nipple, his fangs scraping almost painfully against the sensitive skin on either side.
I thought he'd only tease, that's what he had been doing, but with a primal moan he bit hard and started pulling my blood into his mouth. His hands left my arms and circled around me, lifting me off the bed and holding me up as he drank me down. My body almost bent back in half as I draped over his arms, my breast trapped in his mouth, my arms unable to move for the lust he poured through me right then. And it was right, so very right. No other thoughts than those of my kindred, intimately feeding from my vein, entered my mind. I almost wept with joy at feeling so whole again.
I realised he'd moved one of his arms from around me, strong enough to continue to hold me draped over just one, while the other slipped between my legs and began playing. I welcomed him. It didn't take long for him to get me writhing, so close to coming, what with his mouth around my breast, his tongue lapping at my blood, his fangs holding me firmly in place. But as soon as he sensed I was about to crest the wave of heat that was washing through me, he shifted his fingers and plunged them deep inside, taking away the orgasm and making me cry out in protest and then quickly moan as I rode his fingers. His movements making them plunge in and out and in and out, then back to stroking me to an impossible high, then only deny me all over again with deep thrusts.
This went on for some time - the to-ing and fro-ing - and all the while he continued to drin
k me down, a low purr-come-growl came from the back of his throat. Finally, he must have decided he had taken enough blood, because he allowed me to follow through with that blissful wave of lust until I crashed down the other side in jerky movements against his arm and chest, his fingers again inside me as I clenched them again and again in my wet, wet folds. He slowly withdrew his fangs, licking my breast and then his lips and at the same time removed his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean too.
“Mm. Svante, you say. I think that can be arranged.” His voice was so low and husky, his eyes, when I managed to lift my head and look at them, were shot with magenta, in amongst vibrant violets and amethysts.
“You sure you can handle it?” I asked, trying to keep a straight face and knowing I was failing miserably.
He smiled a sinful smile and lowered me to the bed. “I will make a deal with you. If you can get yourself off this bed and dressed within five minutes, I will spar with you and your weapon of choice.” He had a decidedly cocky look on his face. One which I had every intention of wiping off in the next five minutes.
OK, so it was close and I wasn't entirely sure if I had dressed as well as I normally do. I'm sure I forgot underwear, but that was because I couldn't find any and time was running out. It had taken three minutes to roll over onto my stomach, all the while Michel just sat there watching with an enormous grin on his face, but I did make it. I got up, stumbled, got to the dressing room and managed some yoga pants and a T-Shirt, which on closer inspection once I was back in the room, was inside out. But hey! I was dressed and standing and four minutes fifty-three seconds had passed.
The look on Michel's face was a mix of incredulity, amazement and respect. He really hadn't thought I'd make it. Sucker!
He chuckled and shook his head, sleekly shifting off the bed with all the grace of a panther, proving how much more in control of himself he was and how stupid I was to even consider sparring with him right now. I spent the few moments it took for him to dress to limber up, shake off the last of the post coital bliss and focus on my need to fight. My hand was itching to hold a Svante again, itching to swipe at a target. If Michel was prepared to be that target, then so be it. Bring it on.
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