Eight Lives (Match Made In Hell Book 1)

by Autumn Breeze

  “You want me to feed from you so badly. Is it only for my benefit?” Anselm asked.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. Maybe I wanted him to bite me for me—on more than just my wrist because he was starving. I had always wondered what it would feel like to have him take me in his arms and feed from my body, sip from my neck because . . . because he wanted to feast on me. I’d watched him bring home other boys, drink from their bodies, and maybe even as a cat, I had wished to be one of those boys.

  Anselm’s fangs sank into my neck. My lips parted, and I pressed against him as he danced his fingers along my lower back. I swore I could hear the ocean in my ears as I clung to him.

  Pleasure crept through me.

  My tail brushed against my cock again. A soft moan parted my lips.

  I wanted this—Anselm. I wanted him as more than a friend. I wanted . . . I wanted him in a way I had always been scared to want another person. But we weren’t back in the early 1900s, and men lay with men all the time now. I . . . I wanted that.

  My tail brushed against my shaft. Everything felt so good.

  Was it because of what I was doing or Anselm? Maybe it was the feeling of both—him feeding and me. I wanted more. I wanted to stay human even after he was done feeding. I wanted to talk to him man to man and not man to beast. I wanted Anselm to desire me the way I desired him.

  I wanted too much, and I knew how dangerous that was.

  “Anselm,” I moaned as my cock pulsed. It was stupid to get excited. It was just my tail and his fangs, but I guessed anyone who hadn’t been touched in a hundred years might be extra sensitive. And everything, the feel of my own tail, his fangs in my neck…it was all so much.

  His fingers moved lower, and his hand brushed against my ass. I sucked in a breath when he gave the soft flesh a squeeze. My own fingers tightened in his shirt. I swallowed my moans of pleasure but gasped when Anselm moved his hand again, this time towards the front of me. He fingered the head of my length before sliding his hands along my shaft.

  My lips parted, and my cock jumped. My seed shot between us as Anselm drank from me.

  Embarrassment turned my cheeks hot. I thought Anselm would push me away, but he kept me close, seemingly ignoring what I had just done. Squeezing my eyes closed, I willed myself to stay human, to let him finish his meal. I ached; my muscles burned, but my form stayed.

  Everything danced when I opened my eyes.

  Anselm pulled back, and I stumbled into him, my chest heaving as my body grew heavy.

  “I’ve got you,” Anselm whispered, scooping me up into his arms. My eyes drifted closed just as I turned back into a cat. He held me close while walking towards the sofa. I was so tired. But I felt happy as well as everything faded.

  When I woke, I was still a cat and curled up in Anselm’s lap as he sat on the sofa watching TV. He was petting me absently ,and I didn’t see the bags that had been placed on the floor when he’d first come in, before he’d fed from me.

  “How long was I asleep?” I whispered, my ears twitching as I made no attempt to move.

  “A little over a day,” Anselm said, and I frowned.

  “You should have woken me,” I said. I had been sleeping more and more, but I didn’t know what to do about that fact.

  We needed to look for the dark witch, and I had been wasting our time.

  “I tried to wake you, but I think you were exceptionally tired after . . . everything,” Anselm said.

  If I could have, I would have blushed.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, putting my paw over my face to hide myself.

  He laughed softly as I moved, attempting to bury myself in his lap.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for, Edmund. I teased you. It was unfair,” Anselm replied.

  I looked up. “I didn’t hate it.”

  “Good. I . . . I didn’t hate it either,” Anselm said.

  I peered up at him. He was so handsome, and ever since I’d first met him, he’d been nice. I knew he was a vampire, but he took care of me and I gave him everything I could.

  He really was my friend. I . . . I loved him. It was something I wouldn’t allow myself to think just a few weeks ago, but things were changing, and I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t know how this was going to end, but I was hoping maybe . . . maybe it would work out like he kept saying it would.

  “Did you drink enough?” I asked, purring as he petted me.

  “I did. Thank you,” Anselm said, and I shook my head.

  “You don’t have to thank me. I was the one being bossy, after all,” I told him. Plus, for some reason, I felt like I was the one who’d gotten the most out of his feeding.

  I had been the one to cum, after all.

  “It was kind of cute—you marching up and demanding I feed,” Anselm teased, and I scratched him, watching the line heal almost as soon as I’d opened it up in his skin.

  “If I didn’t, you would have tried to starve yourself,” I said. He was a grown man, and I knew he had lived for a long time before I’d come along, but I always felt like it was my job to remind him to take his meals. And I always counted the days between and worried when he went too long without eating.

  “In that case, I do owe you a thank-you for always looking out for me,” Anselm said.

  Did it get annoying—me telling him what to do? How did he really feel about everything that was going down? He didn’t seem as depressed as normal, but I didn’t know if he was trying to keep a brave face for the both of us.

  “How are you feeling these days?” I asked him.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Anselm countered.

  “Just wondering if you’re okay. A lot is going on. I have to make sure you’re still happy.” I had to make sure he wasn’t thinking about doing anything reckless. I had to make sure he was still with me because I was with him no matter what form I took.

  “I want what's best for you, Edmund.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I want what’s best for you, Anselm.”

  “Your happiness is what is best for me.”

  “Really?” I asked, turning to climb his chest.

  Anselm petted me again, scratching behind my ear as I purred.

  “Yes. I want you happy and here,” Anselm assured me.

  “Remember you said that in two hundred years when I’m still being bossy,” I teased, but my heart squeezed. Anselm wanted me around. And I wanted to stay.

  Maybe in both forms.

  Anselm

  Music flowed through the underground nightclub, loud and energetic as it bounced off the walls and reverberated around the interior. Those who had already crowded into the small space bumped and grinded against one another, letting the vibrations flow through their feet as they swallowed drink after drink.

  My ears rang. People screamed over one another as everyone talked at once, trying to be heard by whoever they were with as neon lights flashed through the room, illuminating everything for seconds at a time.

  Edmund bounced on his toes beside me, wearing a grin that put the sun to shame. He was so fucking happy to be out tonight, to be visiting his first nightclub. He seemed to forget tonight was not only about pleasure. We were here on business too.

  I was looking for old friends or hoping to make new ones. Perhaps they could help me find the man I was looking for since he had a nasty habit of disappearing off the face of the earth. Maybe someone here would know Cassius—know where I could find him. Or at the very least, maybe someone could point me in the right direction.

  Glancing around, I scanned the club for a familiar face. There was none.

  “Everything is so loud!” Edmund shouted, his hand finding mine. Our fingers curled together, and he pressed himself against my side. His eyes shined in the unnatural light. “And this music sucks! But I’m still stupid happy for some reason!”

  I laughed softly, reaching up and kneading his ear. He looked so happy.

  “You want a drink?” I asked. It would be his first in a hundred years.
Or maybe ever. I’d never asked if he’d had anything alcoholic to drink before. If he had, the drinks in the twenty-first century were nothing like the drinks in most of the previous centuries.

  “Is that a good idea?” he asked, standing on the tips of his toes as he shouted.

  Leaning forward, my lips were at his ear as I said, “Just a small one won’t hurt.”

  He shivered, his head falling against my chest, and I squeezed his hand before yanking him through the crowd. People bumped and bashed into us. Some of them apologized, and some of them glared. I ignored all of them until I reached the bar and squeezed between the bodies. Edmund pressed against my back, curling his free hand in my shirt.

  The bartender moved from person to person, delivering drinks.

  Finally, he stopped before us.

  “Woodford Old Fashioned and a Johnny Walker Black. Rocks, please,” I told him.

  He accepted his payment and was off again. The bartender danced around with a practiced grace, grabbing the ingredients he needed. A woman behind the bar with him tended to other people, laughing and chatting, accepting tips from men who didn’t realize they didn’t stand a chance in hell. Edmund peered around my body, watching the commotion as he pressed close.

  In the next instance, two whiskey glasses sloshing with amber liquid were set before us.

  I took Edmund’s off the bar and held it out to him. “Slowly,” I urged. It was a sweet concoction, only having enough bite to let him know there was, indeed, alcohol in his glass.

  “It tastes like . . . liquid sugar with the hint of something bitter,” he said.

  I picked up my own glass, letting the whiskey roll around inside since I couldn’t technically drink it. Or I could. It would get me drunk. It would also get me so sick I’d spend days vomiting.

  “Do you want to dance?” I asked, lifting my glass and smelling the contents.

  Edmund sipped on his own drink, his throat flexing as he swallowed.

  The music pulsed around us like a heartbeat. I could feel the thumps in my body.

  “Yeah!” he exclaimed. I grasped his hand and started to pull him towards the floor. It was packed, but there was always room for more people. “What about finding Cassius?”

  “It can wait for at least one song,” I assured Edmund, pulling him against me. He began to sway back and forth, his bottom pressed into my crotch. His tail wrapped around my wrist, and I slid my arm around his body, keeping him near.

  “I don’t actually know how to dance,” he shouted, his voice loud and carrying.

  “You’re doing fine,” I whispered in his ear, feeling it twitch just under my lips.

  There wasn’t really much to dancing in this day and age. Mostly, it consisted of two people rubbing together, touching in the darkness, and going home to fuck before never speaking to one another again.

  “This is fun!” he shouted, peering over his shoulder at me.

  I leaned down, brushing my mouth against his, and Edmund froze before his lips tipped upwards. I lingered, enjoying the press of his mouth, hot and soft and sweet under mine. He didn’t pull away. I tightened my arm around his waist as I tasted his mouth with my tongue. He gasped. My tongue swept between his lips, searching the space behind his teeth. He moaned softly as I explored his mouth. The strong taste of aged whiskey lingered on his lips, along with something sweet that was uniquely him. Our tongues danced and curled before I pulled back.

  Lifting my drink, I swallowed what was inside.

  “What are you doing?” he hissed, turning to face me, his cheeks stained red. He curled his fingers around the glass and yanked it out of my hand, but he was too slow. It was empty. “You can’t drink that!”

  “Too late,” I teased, grasping his hips and dragging him closer now that my hands were free.

  “You’re going to be sick,” he said as I pulled him against my chest.

  “Not for a few hours,” I assured him, pressing my lips against his jaw. He smelled like my favorite meal, and to be fair, he was. I wasn’t hungry, but I wanted to taste him again. Just a sip wouldn’t hurt, would it?

  “Okay,” he sighed. “We’ll just enjoy the now.”

  “Good boy,” I teased, nipping at his flesh. There was no reason not to enjoy the now.

  “Bully,” he whined.

  I tugged him against my chest, breathing him in. “You like it,” I countered. If he didn’t like how I treated him, he could have left. The world, supernatural and normal alike, was easier to live in now more than ever—even for a stray talking cat.

  “Maybe,” he said, his head falling against my chest.

  I touched his chin and tipped his head back. He swallowed hard as I leaned in, tasting his neck. My fangs pressed down and scraped against his flesh. Did he want my bite as badly as I wanted to give it to him?

  “Anselm,” he exhaled. His voice quivered.

  My fangs sank into his neck. He gasped. Iron, a sweet nectar like honey, filled my mouth, and I tightened my arm around his body as I sipped softly for only a second before pulling back. Edmund panted, his chest heaving up and down as he leaned heavily on me.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, my hand pressing against his spine to keep him upright.

  “Yes,” he said. “It always feels so . . . thrilling when you do that.”

  I laughed softly and turned him around, pulling his ass against my crotch again.

  “Dance,” I whispered. He swayed from side to side once more, his body as graceful as ever. It didn’t seem to matter if he was a cat or a man. His movements were elegant; one flowed into the next the same way a stream cut its course through a forest. “You’re so lovely.”

  “You’re just full of compliments today,” he replied, turning his head into my shoulder as he continued to brush his body against mine, making every nerve ending feel as though it was afire.

  “I’m only being honest,” I said, twisting my fingers in the front of his shirt, creating a fist.

  “I like it,” he replied, taking another sip from the glass he held. I touched my lips to his temple.

  The song changed, but our movements didn’t. To be honest, I wasn’t sure how to dance in this new age either. Some people jerked around, seeming to have no control over their own body. Others moved in a practiced way, as if there was a method to their madness. I was content with this, with the sway of Edmund against me as the world shifted around us.

  “Hey . . . isn’t that Elex?” he asked, extending his glass and pointing towards a blond that wasn’t far away. He had his own glass in his hand, sipping on it slowly as he pressed against a young man I recognized. It wasn’t the guy who sat in the hallway for hours, but it was the one who came around from time to time—one of the werewolves he always smelled like.

  “Elex!” Edmund shouted, pulling away.

  I groaned, shoving my hand into my hair. Did he have to see his friend? We had been having a perfectly good time, and now I was going to have to stand near dog breath.

  “Edmund!” Elex exclaimed as soon as he saw my companion, breaking away from his own dance partner. “I didn’t expect to see you here!”

  They wrapped their arms around one another and squeezed.

  “It’s my first club. I’m excited.” Edmund bounced some before his gaze drifted to the large man standing just behind Elex. “Is that the boyfriend or the stalker?”

  “This is my boyfriend, Tate,” Elex announced, curling his arm around Tate’s back.

  “You’re a cat,” Tate said to Edmund, his voice loud and deep.

  “Something like that,” Edmund replied. My lips twitched. He wasn’t technically a cat. but he wasn’t human either. He was just stuck in the middle until we could sort out his situation. We were supposed to be spending the night trying to locate the one person I knew who could be of any help, but I could already see those plans had been derailed. “This is my . . . Anselm.”

  I lifted my hand in greeting, giving a soft wave of acknowledgement, and almost wished I had another drink. El
ex knew who I was, and I had no need to be on friendly terms with Tate.

  “Do you want to get a drink with us?” Edmund questioned.

  “Yes!” Elex exclaimed, grasping Tate’s hand. “Can you lead the way?” he asked, smiling up at his boyfriend. It was a little gross.

  Elex was a human. Tate was an animal. I’d thought bestiality was against the law.

  “Of course, babe,” Tate responded, a smile pulling at his lips before he tugged on Elex.

  Elex grabbed Edmund’s wrist. Reaching back, Edmund passed me my glass before he grabbed my wrist, and like the caboose of a train, I was tugged forward by those in front of me.

  Tonight was going to be ungodly long.

  Edmund

  We were around five drinks deep. Elex and Tate were seated at the table with Anselm and me. It felt as natural as ever to be perched in Anselm’s lap, but as I watched Elex and Tate, I wondered if little things like this—the way I sat in Anselm’s lap, or how he played with my ears from time to time—was the reason Elex had thought Anselm would date a cat.

  I still moved slightly, rocking and bouncing softly to the beat that seemed to be the pulse of this place as Anselm held me close. This was probably the most fun I’d ever had.

  Parties nowadays were nothing like back when I’d been human—not that I’d attended many. Most of all, I enjoyed the fact that Anselm seemed to be enjoying himself as well. His fingers were flush against my thigh. Every now and then, he pushed his hand up the leg of the shorts I was wearing. I swallowed, knowing how easily excited I could become when it came to him. Getting hard would be embarrassing in front of Elex and his boyfriend.

  My eyes shifted back to the pair. Tate was undoubtedly handsome. He was big—imposing. If I’d seen him alone on a dark street, I probably would have crossed over to the other side of the road or run in the opposite direction. Elex looked tiny as he sat on Tate’s lap.

  “How did you meet?” I asked as Anselm picked his glass off the table again. He wrapped his arm around my stomach, and I leaned back into his chest. He smelled like blood and the whiskey he was consuming.