A Place in this Life: Chapter Ten: Is it worth it?
Hey! Look at this! Another chapter in under six months. I must be on a roll. Sort of. We're coming to the home stretch in this tale. I expect there to be one more chapter after this one. I hope you've enjoyed the ride so far and that you stick around to see it to the end. Click the cut to read.
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter franchise. The world and all its inhabitants belong to Laurell K. Hamilton. I’ve just borrowed her world for my own, and hopefully your, entertainment. I make no money from this work and discourage any attempts to sue me as being fiscally unrewarding.
Warnings: Legal adults only. Graphic sex, violence, adult themes, vampires and lycanthropes. Read at your own risk.
Authors Note: Ever had a character keep pestering you in the back of your skull until there was nothing to do for it, but sit down and write? Damian may be quiet, but he’s bloody persistent. Enjoy.
Chapter Ten: Is it worth it?
He watched her sleep, listening to the soft sound of her breathing and the steady beating of her heart. She looked so small and wan beneath the sheets. The cosmetics that had been so artful at the beginning of this night now lay on her pale skin like a mask.
She was here and safe, he reminded himself. At least for the moment. But worry still gnawed at him, creased his brow and made him restless. She had been so quiet, so cold in his arms. Had the Master and his temoin taken too much? The battle had no doubt frightened her badly. The combination of blood loss and violence had produced a state of shock so great that he was reluctant to leave her side. No one could be spared to watch over her. The battle had been just as fierce amongst the lycanthropes. There were wounded enough to tax their resources. No deaths among their people, thankfully. But many wore the marks of battle on their bodies.
So here he sat in vigil, waiting on the dawn to come. His eyes roved over the room. There lay her shoes, the soles tacky with drying blood. Here lay her dress, rumpled and tossed carelessly to the floor. He had done it thoughtlessly; thinking only that it must be binding and uncomfortable. His eyes flicked to the cat. The usually placid beast watched him with alert eyes from her spot upon the pillow. The pillow where his head would rest if he were to join Erica in the bed. His sword lay beside him on the sofa. The cloth he’d used to clean it was crumpled in his fist, forgotten. He knew he should go up above to help with the wounded, but he could not bring himself to leave her.
He would not leave her until the dawn forced his hand. He feared that when he awoke at sunset she would be gone. Gone from his bed, gone from this chamber, perhaps even gone from his life. Would she be so frightened by the monsters that she would flee while he slept? Or would Anita take her condition as an excuse to send her away for what was undoubtedly her own good? Too many things could happen while he lay dead in his coffin.
“Come little one.” He tossed the rag aside and waggled his fingers at the little cat. It stared at him, its ears erect and listening to his voice. “Come Shadow, come.”
Slowly, cautiously, the small creature came to him. It sniffed at his fingers before curling up in his lap. The vibration of its tiny body as it purred was somehow soothing. He remained there stroking the cat and watching its mistress sleep until the approaching dawn sent him seeking his coffin and the oblivion of his daytime rest.
* * *
Blood.
The scent of it nearly choked her with its metallic, almost sweet odor. It dripped down her face, into her eyes, slid warm and thick over her lips and between her breasts. It trickled in rivulets down her naked body to pool around her feet in a viscous sheet of scarlet.
Faces surrounded her. Pale, almost stone-like faces with burning eyes. Her heart beat quicker and the blood trickled faster from somewhere above her. She blinked her eyes and tried to wipe it away. Her lashes were becoming matted with blood, her hair heavy and wet with it.
“Drink.” A voice came from one of the faces. She blinked furiously, trying to clear her vision. “Drink.” Another voice, another pale face lost in the red haze of her blood-smeared vision.
“Drink. Drink. Drink.” The voices chanted, growing stronger, louder, more commanding.
“No.” She whispered and tried to turn from them. But she couldn’t see, couldn’t seem to find her way clear of the circle of faces.
“Drink and we will be together for always.” It was Damian’s voice. Damian’s pale hand that reached out and took her elbow. “Drink with us.”
“No. The blood poured down more thickly and she could see nothing but the rain of blood. The pounding of her heart grew loud, so loud that it nearly drowned out the chanting. She tried to run but Damian caught her hand in his, holding her with an iron grip. She screamed. Blood poured into her open mouth, thick and warm and coppery sweet. She screamed louder…
“Erica? Hey Erica! Wake up.” Someone was shaking her. She woke with a gasp, her heart thudding in her chest. She drew in several great, gasping breaths as she stared up at Zane. “You were having a nightmare.”
“A nightmare.” She echoed in a whisper, her mouth dry. She sat up, only realizing after she did so that she was naked beneath the sheets. She dragged the blankets back up over her breasts and pushed back her tangled hair. It was stiff and matted with a combination of hair products and fear sweat. “Yeah. I…It was a bad one.”
“I heard things got ugly at the Circus.” The wereleopard’s brown eyes were uncharacteristically serious. “Are you all right? We’ve been too busy to send someone down to check on you. I think Anita thought you’d stay at the Circus.”
“No. I’m fine. Just tired.” It was only then that she took in his appearance. There was a purple bruise shining through the pale skin of one cheek. More bruises skipped down the length of one arm from bicep to wrist. The other arm was in a sling. “What happened to you?”
“We had some uninvited guests last night.” He rubbed his bruised cheek gingerly and gave her a wry smile. “No one has said not to tell you - it was more wereboars. More thugs. It’s a good thing we brought friends or they would have tore us to pieces.”
“Is everyone all right?” She clutched the blankets to her as she began to reach for something to throw on. “What about Nathaniel? And…” She paused.
“Caleb’s fine. Anita’s got him playing bodyguard and chauffer for the ones who are awake and well enough to head home. The house is packed.”
“OK.” Erica paused, sitting on the edge of the bed. There was nothing within reach to cover up with, unless she dragged the blankets with her. “I’m OK, I think. I just need to get dressed and shower. If it’s free.”
“It should be if you hurry.” He stood up and cocked his head to one side and studied her for a moment. “If you’re up to it, we could use an extra pair of hands. We still have a lot of folks sleeping the shift off and some too hurt to head home yet.”
“I think I am.” She rolled her neck and shoulders as much as she could without flashing him. Asher’s bite was just a little tender. “I’ll be up as soon as I pull myself together.”
“All right.” Zane nodded. “Ask Cherry what needs doing when you’re ready. Gotta go.”
He left with such speed that it brought home the fact that they were short-handed enough to need her help. She stood up carefully, uncertain how much blood she’d lost. She prepared for a bout of dizziness or faintness, but it didn’t come. She did, however, feel very thirsty. And hungry. But clothes and a shower came first. She didn’t think it was wise to work around wounded lycanthropes when she stank of fear sweat.
When she reached the ground floor, she found that Zane had not been exaggerating. There were sleeping and semi-conscious people occupying every available piece of furniture and even a few spots on the carpeted floor. Cherry’s blond head was bent over someone on the couch as she passed. The woman looked up to catch her eye and nodded toward the upstairs bathroom. Erica hadn’t really needed the hint; she could hear the sound of water running in the ground floor bathroom. She headed up the stairs without any more prompting. The second bedroom door was open and she could see a tangle of bodies and limbs curled up in the bed. They seemed to be asleep, so she tiptoed past the door.
Conscious that others would probably be waking soon, she rushed through her shower. She left her hair in a damp ponytail rather than taking the time to dry it before slipping back down the stairs. She heard the door close behind her before she even reached the living room. She had to watch her step as she crossed the floor, avoiding sleep-slack limbs and random bits of clothing and blankets. Voices drifted from the kitchen and she homed in on them.
She found Cherry eating a sandwich standing up. A couple of young men she didn’t recognize sat at Anita’s kitchen table eating sandwiches of their own. Nathaniel was bustling around the kitchen making more sandwiches and coffee. He looked unscathed other than a few scratches here and there.
“Zane said I could help?” Erica stopped near the counter next to a plate of sandwiches.
“Eat first.” Cherry ordered and grabbed a sandwich from the platter and handed it to Erica. “Then see if you can get anyone who’s awake to eat.”
“OK.” She obeyed, downing the sandwich and the glass of juice Nathaniel poured for her. Then she grabbed the platter of sandwiches and started her rounds. By that time, Cherry and the strangers had left the kitchen. Nathaniel continued making sandwiches to replenish her platter. He was quieter than usual, but seemed in good spirits as he loaded her up over and over.
Erica spent the next hour or so wandering the house, feeding the waking lycanthropes sandwiches and juice. Most of them were nude or barely covered, but since it didn’t seem to matter to them, she tried to ignore it. There was one awkward moment when she mistook Gregory’s twin brother for the wereleopard. But the young man was gracious about the mistake. She supposed it must happen often.
She was returning the last empty tray to the kitchen when Cherry called her over. The nurse had been moving tirelessly from one patient to another, checking for injuries and changing dressings. “Can you give me a hand?”
“Yeah. Just let me set this down.”
Cherry stood over Noah. He sat rigidly on one of Anita’s kitchen chairs, brought out into the living room for easier access. His upper body was bare. Three deep gashes scored across the left side of his back and shoulder. Erica swallowed hard at the sight. “What do you need?”
“Just hand me things when I ask for them. I need to close these before they heal too much or they may scar.”
“I didn’t think lycanthropes could get scars.” Erica commented, taking her place beside the first aid kit. It was the biggest one if it’s kind she had ever seen. The bandages were on top and she started handing them to Cherry one by one as she asked for them.
“Silver can scar. It also makes the wounds heal slower. So do injuries caused by other preternaturals. Like other lycanthropes or vampires.” Cherry’s voice took on a pedantic tone. “I’m using butterflies instead of sutures because Noah is healing fast enough that his skin might grow over the stitches.”
“Oh.” Erica watched Cherry’s hands as they moved, tending to Noah’s wounds. He stiffened a few times, but otherwise remained silent. She could see the pinkish borders of healing skin along the edges.
“Since I can’t use anesthetic, this is also easier on my patients.”
“We metabolize drugs too fast.” The young man’s voice held a trace of growl.
“Exactly.” Cherry bit her lip as she concentrated on sealing the gashes - claw marks, Erica suspected - with neat rows of bandages.
“But you guys never get sick.” Erica mused aloud. “Does anyone ever ask to be…”
“Infected?” Noah made a harsh noise in his throat, not quite a snarl. “Desperate people.”
“I did.” Cherry spoke quietly.
“You did?” Erica turned wide eyes on her.
“I lost my leg in a car crash. I got it back.”
“Was it…how…I…” Erica fumbled at the unexpected answer.
“Was it worth it?” Noah finished the question for her.
“If I knew the price I’d have to pay, I’m not sure I could do it again.” The blonde sighed and gestured for more bandages. “In the long run - yes. But I’m not sure I’d have the nerve to do it if I knew what was going to happen to me.”
“What about you?” Erica asked Noah.
“I was attacked.” His voice was curt. “And no. If I could go back in time - it’s not worth it. Not to me.”
“It’s better than the alternative.” Cherry commented absently, still working. “Not everyone survives.”
“No. They don’t.” He hissed and shifted uneasily on the hard chair. Then he turned his head and fixed Erica with a stern look. “This isn’t even close to the worst we’ve seen. You can still walk away. Go back to your normal life. Maybe you should, before something happens to you.”
“It’s not all bad, Noah.” Cherry patted him and adjusted a bandage. “And she wasn’t asking to be infected.”
“This isn’t even close to bad.” The young man hunched his shoulders the winced as it pulled on his injuries. “Not even close.”
“I think that does it.” Cherry repacked the kit with brisk efficiency. “Let’s see if anyone else needs patching up.”
Erica shot Noah a glance over her shoulder as she followed the blond in search of her next patient. He was still watching her, a frown on his face.
“I don’t think he likes me much.”
“I think he likes you well enough. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be so worried about you.” Cherry poked her head into the kitchen. It was empty for the moment and she gestured for Erica to join her inside. “You weren’t were you?”
“Weren’t what?” Erica wandered over to claim one of the few remaining glasses of juice. She took a sip.
“Asking to be…” Cherry glanced behind her and set the kit on the counter. She opened it and began reorganizing the supplies. “Infected.”
“I wasn’t really. ” Erica paused, her thoughts churning. “But…”
“But what?”
“I felt so helpless last night with the vampires. I was about as useful as a newborn kitten. ‘Watch out you don’t fall on the poor little human and break her’.” The bitterness in her own voice shocked her. “They did protect me. I’m OK. Really.”
“The truth is, Erica, it’s hard to stay close to us monsters without running the risk of getting hurt.” Cherry left the kit and took her own glass. “I’d be scared to death if I was dating a human. It would be so easy for all this to spill over and get someone hurt.”
“So…What?” Erica set down her glass, walking away to stare out the glass doors that led to the deck. She looked, but didn’t really see anything but a blur of trees. “You think I should dump Damian, too? Before I get hurt.”
“I didn’t say that.” Cherry sighed audibly. “People do make it work. I think it’s worth trying.” Erica was silent for a long moment, her thoughts churning. Behind her, she could hear Cherry continuing her reorganization of the kit.
“What if I did want to change things, Cherry? What if I wanted to be one of the monsters, too?”
“I’d tell you to think really hard about it.” Cherry shut the case with a decisive snap. “You’ll give up a lot more than you think.”
“Cherry…”
“Don’t ask me, Erica. Please.” She could see other woman’s reflection, poised in the kitchen doorway as if ready to flee the room. “Anita would never forgive me.”
“I wasn’t…I didn’t….” Erica fumbled. Had she really meant to ask that? “I won’t ask you.”
“OK.” Cherry hefted the case as if checking the balance. “I think I’d better go check in with Anita.” Then she was gone, leaving Erica alone with her thoughts. What would she lose if she did join the monsters? What would she lose if she didn’t?
* * *
“Erica.” Damian rose from his coffin with only one thought on his mind, one word on his lips. There was no welcoming smile to greet him when he climbed from his box and no sleeping girl in his bed. He thought for a moment that he was wholly alone until the plaintive meow of a cat told him that something stirred. Oblivious to any of the drama of the past few days, the little beast twined herself about his legs, demanding he fill her dish.
He smiled at the cat and murmured nonsense to it as he deigned to pour a bit of kibble for her. Erica had not left while he slept. She would not abandon her beloved Shadow. He left the cat to crunch away at her dinner and went in search of his pomme de sang. His own dinner could wait a bit longer.
He found her in the kitchen, her arms elbows deep in dishwater. She had been chatting quietly with Caleb but the leopard had fallen silent at the sound of his footsteps. The other man was now applying a dishtowel to the clean glassware with uncharacteristic diligence.
“Damian!” Erica turned a nervous smile in his direction. “Is it sunset already?”
“It is.” He moved closer, crowding the young wereleopard until he gave ground. The artificially bright citrus scent of the soap she was using tickled his nose and he could smell the faint musk of leopard beneath Caleb’s cologne. He deliberately ignored Caleb, wrapping his arms around Erica’s waist and pressing his face against her hair. He drew in a deep breath through his nose. She smelled good and clean and very much alive. He watched the other man continue to dry dishes, carefully not meeting the vampire’s eyes. “Did you sleep well?”
“Not really.” Erica’s voice was quiet. “I had some…bad dreams. But I’ve been too busy to think about them much. They’re just dreams, anyway. Right?”
“Just dreams.” He gave her a gentle squeeze. She leaned into the embrace for a moment, and then pulled away slightly.
“Have you fed yet?”
“No.” He bent down to brush her neck with his lips. She shivered. “I wanted to see you first.”
“I thought so. Your skin feels cool.” She pulled a couple of dishes from the soapy water and dunked them in the basin of rinse water. Water sloshed nearly to the edge of the sink and more of the citrus scent wafted up. “Why don’t you go feed and we’ll try to finish up here?”
“I will be back soon.” He dropped his arms, but continued to watch her as she worked. “Perhaps we can go out now that the immediate danger is over.”
“You think so? That would be great.” Erica flashed him a bright smile that demanded a smile in reply from him. With the image of her smile foremost in his thoughts, he went in search of a blood donor and his mistress.
An hour later they were in a car with a pair of Anita’s leopards on their way to the cinema. Anita had relaxed her guard enough to allow them to go out, though not alone. But her choice of companions told him she thought the danger slight. Gregory and Vivian would be little more than cannon fodder should there be a fight. At the moment, Gregory was teasing the exotic little beauty in the front seat. Vivian lived with his twin, a werewolf named Stephen. The wereleopardess was blushing at his comments.
It was then that Erica spoke up, steering talk away from Vivian’s love life to the question of what movie they were to see. Damian let the chatter wash over him, simply enjoying having Erica’s warm body tucked under his arm while they sat together in the back seat. The movie itself did not matter to him. He’d had little chance for such frivolous entertainments over the centuries.
His companions reached their decision shortly before they arrived at their destination. The theater was filled with hundreds of other moviegoers. Following Anita’s orders, they stuck together in a close little knot. A sea of strangers flowed about them. Most simply ignored them, moving past without a glance. Some watched him from the corners of their eyes, recognizing him for the vampire that he was. A few stared openly, but he ignored them. He was not working and felt no obligation to put himself on display.
Gregory insisted that popcorn and soda were mandatory and bought enough for a small army. Thus burdened, they took their seats in the darkened theater and the show began. He had paid no attention to the titles on the marquee, but the movie itself was charming. Some sort of youthful fancy with monsters and magic that managed to draw even a jaded old vampire like himself into its tale.
Erica seemed completely enthralled, squeezing his hand tightly when the action was the most exciting or turning to share her quiet laughter with him when things became lighthearted. It was a pleasant and novel way to spend an evening with a woman. And despite the crowd around them, it felt rather intimate sitting together in the darkened room. He’d almost forgotten their lycanthropic chaperones by the time the lights came back up and people began to filter out of the theater.
“Where to next?” Gregory’s blue eyes gleamed in the suddenly bright light.
“We’d better go back to Anita’s.” Vivian said quietly. “She’ll be worried if we’re late. And Stephen should be waiting for me by now.”
And so they went. He would have liked to spend more time away from his basement crypt. It was beginning to feel close and confining. But he would not risk Anita’s ire. Not now when she could argue that Erica was no longer in danger and send her away.
He studied his pomme de sang quietly as she chatted animatedly with the wereleopards. Gregory argued that the action was too unrealistic. There was not enough blood and gore for his taste. Or sex. The women countered that it was a movie intended for children and families. More sex or violence would have been inappropriate for both the audience and the story. He declined to offer his own opinion. He hadn’t enough experience with movies to be any judge. He had simply enjoyed it as a new experience.
By the time they returned to Anita’s home, the conversation had wound down to a companionable quiet. Nathaniel was waiting up for them with Gregory's twin, Stephen the werewolf. Anita had not yet returned from her evening of raising the dead and Micah was busy with coalition business. He and Erica bid the others good night and excused themselves to his basement apartment for some privacy.
“Did you actually like the movie? Or did it seem silly to you?” Erica asked him once they were alone. She sank down on his couch to slip off her sandals with a sigh of relief.
“I did not find it silly. A bit fanciful perhaps.” He sat down next to her and stretched out his long legs. He slid his arms along the back of the sofa, not quite encircling her with one arm. She let her head fall back to rest against his arm, baring the arch of her neck in an enticing display. “I enjoyed the storytelling.”
“I guess it’s a lot different from the way things were done when…” Her eyes flicked up to meet his.
“When I was mortal?”
“Yes.”
“We did not have such technological wonders as moving pictures. But the art of storytelling - I do not think it has changed so much. It is simply the tools that have changed.”
“Oh. I think I understand.” She turned her head, her hair rubbing like silk against his skin. “You thought it was a good story.”
“Yes. I did.” He smiled at her and slid his arm down around her shoulders. He pulled her against him. “I would not mind seeing another of these movies with you.”
“Without chaperones, you mean?”
“Yes. Without chaperones.” His smile widened enough to flash just a hint of fang. Then his expression became more serious. Damian leaned down to catch her lips in a kiss. Her mouth was soft and sweet under his. She moaned softly and pressed closer, her fingers wandering upwards to tangle in his hair. He kept the kiss slow and lazy, savoring every taste and sigh.
He could hear the beating of her pulse, like a moth beating against a pane of glass. It was strong and steady, reassuring to his ears. Jean Claude and Asher had not taken enough to weaken her. The possibilities made his own pulse grow louder and faster. He let his fingers glide down her body, grazing the curves of her breasts and stroking across her ribs until he found the hem of her blouse. He slipped his fingers beneath, seeking the silken warmth of her skin.
“Oh, yes.” She murmured against his lips. She raised her arms for him so that he could tug her top over her head and toss it aside. The pale, lacy green bra she wore framed the curves of her breasts attractively, commanding his attention. He lowered his mouth to them, tasting her skin and nibbling gently at the soft flesh. She arched her back and dug her fingers into his hair again. She pulled him closer, encouraging him. “Damian.” She whispered.
The pounding of her heartbeat seemed to grow louder and louder in his hears until it was almost a roar of sound. The scent of her desire and the warm rich, alive scent of blood beneath her skin flooded his senses. She was growing bolder with each passing moment. Her hands moved from his hair to tug at his clothing. Damian stifled a growl and stood quickly enough to startle a gasp from her.
Without ever taking his gaze from her, he stripped out of his clothes. He kept his movements human-slow, enjoying this private audience of one. She watched him with hungry eyes, licking her kiss-swollen lips in an unconsciously sensual gesture.
In just a few moments, he stood naked before her. “I want you, Erica. All of you.”
“You mean we can…?” Her eyes widened and she rose from the couch to come to him. “Yes. Just…yes.”
He folded his arms around her and kissed her again. He let his hands roam, unclasping her bra and sliding it from her body. She kissed him back, her mouth fierce and hungry. Her hands traveled up and down his body, touching him with a mixture of tenderness and possessiveness that heightened both his passion and his hunger.
He let his hands fall to the waistband of her skirt. The sharp hiss of a zipper cut through the air as he loosed the garment and let it fall from her hips. She wore no hose, simply a pair of pale green satin panties that matched the bra. Those too followed the skirt to the floor. Once she was nude, he lifted her from the pool of fabric and carried her the short distance to the bed. She surprised him, taking advantage of the closeness to nibble playfully at his throat. His grip tightened around her and his breath caught in his throat.
“My lovely.” He murmured and lowered her to the bed. He followed, stretching the length of his along hers. He rose above her on his arms, letting his hair fall forward in a veil of scarlet. Her eyes were wide and dark; her pupils twin pools of liquid desire.
He traced a trail of kisses from her mouth along her jaw and down the curve of her neck until he found the pulse point. He kissed the spot, fluttering below her skin like a trapped butterfly. He could hear her heartbeat growing still faster. A faint trace of fear scent mixed with the muskier scent of arousal.
“I will not hurt you.” He murmured against her skin and stroked soothing caresses down her body.
“I know.” She whispered and shivered under his caresses. She returned them, her hands exploring his body, stroking down his spine, cupping one buttock and squeezing before moving on. He lowered his mouth to her breasts, dropping light kisses across the curves of both mounds before taking a nipple into his mouth. He suckled carefully, hand cradling the other breast while his free hand moved lower. She clutched at his shoulders when his fingers slid between her thighs to find the flesh there swollen, slick and ready for him.
He toyed with her while he enjoyed suckling at her breasts. She writhed and gasped for him as he stroked and teased at her entrance. “Oh, please. Damian. Please.”
“Please, what?” He lifted his eyes just enough to meet hers as he dropped more kisses over her chest. His lips spread in a smile of pleasure at her pleas. “What do you want?”
“I want…” She gasped as he gently pinched the little bud of flesh hidden between her thighs. He rolled it back and forth between his fingertips and she writhed for him. “Oh…you…I want you…I want you to…”
“To what, my lovely?” He kissed his way up the column of her neck and purred in her ear.
“I want you to…” Her hand slid down and wrapped around his erection, squeezing firmly before stroking from the base to the head and back again. “Put this inside me. Now.”
“Now?” He chuckled softly and nuzzled at her neck.
“Yes. Now.” She sighed as he let his fingers slip inside her. He stroked her from the inside until she moaned for him.
“And is there nothing else you want from me, my lovely pomme de sang?”
“Mmm…” She squeezed him again and writhed, her hips rising to meet the thrusting of his fingers. “I want you to feed. Feed while you make love to me.”
“As you wish.” He murmured, his lips above hers as he shifted position. He settled himself between her thighs and she reached out to embrace him. She wound arms and legs about him, pulling him down and urging him on. But he set his own pace, taking his time pressing his length slowly inside her. She clung to him, moaning. Her voice was soft and husky, pleasure and frustration mingling in her tones.
He kissed her deeply. Thoroughly. He entered her mouth with the same deliberateness that he entered her body. He savored the feel of her, of the warm slickness that enveloped him. The press of her body against his. The softness of her skin and the give of her breasts. He could feel their hardened tips when his body lay against hers. He held himself there, his hips flush against hers. He stayed poised there, as deep as he could go, refusing to move despite the straining of her body, wordlessly asking for more. He plundered her mouth, digging his fingers into her hair so that he could hold her still while he explored every bit of her sweet mouth.
The girl beneath him groaned into his mouth. Her heart fluttered beneath her breast, the sound a siren’s call of hunger and desire. She clutched at his shoulders and stroked down his spine. She cried out into his mouth and writhed restlessly, eager for more. He let his mouth drift from her lips, along the ridge of her jaw and back to that same throbbing pulse of life at her throat. He nibbled at it teasingly, drawing a gasp from her. “Please, Damian. Please.”
“Not yet.” Then he rose up on his arms so that he could watch her face and began to move. He kept his thrusts slow and smooth, wishing to draw out this pleasure for as long as he could make it last. He watched emotion play across her face as he made love to her. He held his own needs at bay while he carefully stoked the fires of desire with each measured push of his hips.
Sweet friction built, sensation on sensation until he could feel her muscles begin to tense and spasm. He waited, his own need and hunger mingling into one great, piercing desire. As the first spasms of release took her, he struck.
His fangs pierced her skin with no sense of resistance. While her inner muscles contracted and pulsed around him, blood began to flow into his mouth. Sweet, hot, and salty, filled with life. It poured into his mouth and down his throat. Erica cried out, her words vague and unformed. She wound her arms around his neck, holding him close as he continued to drink of her life’s blood, his hips still pumping against her.
Twice pierced, she shuddered, her body bucking with the throes of passion. He held her carefully, tenderly, conscious of his own strength and her fragile mortality. Tension built within him, each stroke pushing him closer to his own release, each drop of blood adding to the sense of fullness and aching need.
He held on to his control, pushing his limits, wishing to make this first time something they both would remember. He clung to his control until his body started to fight him and the rhythm of heartbeat changed, beginning to struggle with the loss of blood.
Then, and only then did he let go. He raised his head, his lips stained with her blood as he pumped his seed into her body with a groan of completion. She shivered beneath him, her body quivering with lingering aftershocks. Pleased with himself, he rolled onto his side and tucked her into the curve of his arm. She rested against him, her head pillowed on his shoulder. They were quiet for a long time, only their breathing and pounding of their hearts broke the stillness. It was Erica who broke the silence first. Her voice was breathy and blurred with fatigue. “Wow. That was just…wow.”
He hugged her more tightly and rubbed his chin across the top of her head. “Was that all you wished it to be?” He reached down to pull the rumpled bedclothes over them both. She hadn’t said anything yet, but her skin must be growing cool as the sweat of their exertions began to dry.
“More. It was more.” She snuggled closer to him and helped him tuck the blankets about them both. “How about you? Does feeding really make that much difference for you?”
“Oh, yes.” He murmured. “The only pleasure greater than making love to you is to drink of you while I do so.”
“Mmmhmm.” She agreed.
“And there is one more advantage.” He drew teasing fingertips along her arm. Gooseflesh rose in their wake. She gave a little quiver of reaction.
“What is that?”
“We can do this again as soon as you are ready.”
“Oh.” She turned her head so she could look up at him. A smile played around the corners of her mouth and her eyes gleamed with interest. “Oh. In that case, I think we have to do that again.”
“Oh, yes. I think we do.”
When the dawn came at last and he left her for his daytime rest, it was in a state of pleasurable exhaustion. He left her sleeping the deep slumber of true satiation. It had been a very good night indeed.
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter franchise. The world and all its inhabitants belong to Laurell K. Hamilton. I’ve just borrowed her world for my own, and hopefully your, entertainment. I make no money from this work and discourage any attempts to sue me as being fiscally unrewarding.
Warnings: Legal adults only. Graphic sex, violence, adult themes, vampires and lycanthropes. Read at your own risk.
Authors Note: Ever had a character keep pestering you in the back of your skull until there was nothing to do for it, but sit down and write? Damian may be quiet, but he’s bloody persistent. Enjoy.
Chapter Ten: Is it worth it?
He watched her sleep, listening to the soft sound of her breathing and the steady beating of her heart. She looked so small and wan beneath the sheets. The cosmetics that had been so artful at the beginning of this night now lay on her pale skin like a mask.
She was here and safe, he reminded himself. At least for the moment. But worry still gnawed at him, creased his brow and made him restless. She had been so quiet, so cold in his arms. Had the Master and his temoin taken too much? The battle had no doubt frightened her badly. The combination of blood loss and violence had produced a state of shock so great that he was reluctant to leave her side. No one could be spared to watch over her. The battle had been just as fierce amongst the lycanthropes. There were wounded enough to tax their resources. No deaths among their people, thankfully. But many wore the marks of battle on their bodies.
So here he sat in vigil, waiting on the dawn to come. His eyes roved over the room. There lay her shoes, the soles tacky with drying blood. Here lay her dress, rumpled and tossed carelessly to the floor. He had done it thoughtlessly; thinking only that it must be binding and uncomfortable. His eyes flicked to the cat. The usually placid beast watched him with alert eyes from her spot upon the pillow. The pillow where his head would rest if he were to join Erica in the bed. His sword lay beside him on the sofa. The cloth he’d used to clean it was crumpled in his fist, forgotten. He knew he should go up above to help with the wounded, but he could not bring himself to leave her.
He would not leave her until the dawn forced his hand. He feared that when he awoke at sunset she would be gone. Gone from his bed, gone from this chamber, perhaps even gone from his life. Would she be so frightened by the monsters that she would flee while he slept? Or would Anita take her condition as an excuse to send her away for what was undoubtedly her own good? Too many things could happen while he lay dead in his coffin.
“Come little one.” He tossed the rag aside and waggled his fingers at the little cat. It stared at him, its ears erect and listening to his voice. “Come Shadow, come.”
Slowly, cautiously, the small creature came to him. It sniffed at his fingers before curling up in his lap. The vibration of its tiny body as it purred was somehow soothing. He remained there stroking the cat and watching its mistress sleep until the approaching dawn sent him seeking his coffin and the oblivion of his daytime rest.
* * *
Blood.
The scent of it nearly choked her with its metallic, almost sweet odor. It dripped down her face, into her eyes, slid warm and thick over her lips and between her breasts. It trickled in rivulets down her naked body to pool around her feet in a viscous sheet of scarlet.
Faces surrounded her. Pale, almost stone-like faces with burning eyes. Her heart beat quicker and the blood trickled faster from somewhere above her. She blinked her eyes and tried to wipe it away. Her lashes were becoming matted with blood, her hair heavy and wet with it.
“Drink.” A voice came from one of the faces. She blinked furiously, trying to clear her vision. “Drink.” Another voice, another pale face lost in the red haze of her blood-smeared vision.
“Drink. Drink. Drink.” The voices chanted, growing stronger, louder, more commanding.
“No.” She whispered and tried to turn from them. But she couldn’t see, couldn’t seem to find her way clear of the circle of faces.
“Drink and we will be together for always.” It was Damian’s voice. Damian’s pale hand that reached out and took her elbow. “Drink with us.”
“No. The blood poured down more thickly and she could see nothing but the rain of blood. The pounding of her heart grew loud, so loud that it nearly drowned out the chanting. She tried to run but Damian caught her hand in his, holding her with an iron grip. She screamed. Blood poured into her open mouth, thick and warm and coppery sweet. She screamed louder…
“Erica? Hey Erica! Wake up.” Someone was shaking her. She woke with a gasp, her heart thudding in her chest. She drew in several great, gasping breaths as she stared up at Zane. “You were having a nightmare.”
“A nightmare.” She echoed in a whisper, her mouth dry. She sat up, only realizing after she did so that she was naked beneath the sheets. She dragged the blankets back up over her breasts and pushed back her tangled hair. It was stiff and matted with a combination of hair products and fear sweat. “Yeah. I…It was a bad one.”
“I heard things got ugly at the Circus.” The wereleopard’s brown eyes were uncharacteristically serious. “Are you all right? We’ve been too busy to send someone down to check on you. I think Anita thought you’d stay at the Circus.”
“No. I’m fine. Just tired.” It was only then that she took in his appearance. There was a purple bruise shining through the pale skin of one cheek. More bruises skipped down the length of one arm from bicep to wrist. The other arm was in a sling. “What happened to you?”
“We had some uninvited guests last night.” He rubbed his bruised cheek gingerly and gave her a wry smile. “No one has said not to tell you - it was more wereboars. More thugs. It’s a good thing we brought friends or they would have tore us to pieces.”
“Is everyone all right?” She clutched the blankets to her as she began to reach for something to throw on. “What about Nathaniel? And…” She paused.
“Caleb’s fine. Anita’s got him playing bodyguard and chauffer for the ones who are awake and well enough to head home. The house is packed.”
“OK.” Erica paused, sitting on the edge of the bed. There was nothing within reach to cover up with, unless she dragged the blankets with her. “I’m OK, I think. I just need to get dressed and shower. If it’s free.”
“It should be if you hurry.” He stood up and cocked his head to one side and studied her for a moment. “If you’re up to it, we could use an extra pair of hands. We still have a lot of folks sleeping the shift off and some too hurt to head home yet.”
“I think I am.” She rolled her neck and shoulders as much as she could without flashing him. Asher’s bite was just a little tender. “I’ll be up as soon as I pull myself together.”
“All right.” Zane nodded. “Ask Cherry what needs doing when you’re ready. Gotta go.”
He left with such speed that it brought home the fact that they were short-handed enough to need her help. She stood up carefully, uncertain how much blood she’d lost. She prepared for a bout of dizziness or faintness, but it didn’t come. She did, however, feel very thirsty. And hungry. But clothes and a shower came first. She didn’t think it was wise to work around wounded lycanthropes when she stank of fear sweat.
When she reached the ground floor, she found that Zane had not been exaggerating. There were sleeping and semi-conscious people occupying every available piece of furniture and even a few spots on the carpeted floor. Cherry’s blond head was bent over someone on the couch as she passed. The woman looked up to catch her eye and nodded toward the upstairs bathroom. Erica hadn’t really needed the hint; she could hear the sound of water running in the ground floor bathroom. She headed up the stairs without any more prompting. The second bedroom door was open and she could see a tangle of bodies and limbs curled up in the bed. They seemed to be asleep, so she tiptoed past the door.
Conscious that others would probably be waking soon, she rushed through her shower. She left her hair in a damp ponytail rather than taking the time to dry it before slipping back down the stairs. She heard the door close behind her before she even reached the living room. She had to watch her step as she crossed the floor, avoiding sleep-slack limbs and random bits of clothing and blankets. Voices drifted from the kitchen and she homed in on them.
She found Cherry eating a sandwich standing up. A couple of young men she didn’t recognize sat at Anita’s kitchen table eating sandwiches of their own. Nathaniel was bustling around the kitchen making more sandwiches and coffee. He looked unscathed other than a few scratches here and there.
“Zane said I could help?” Erica stopped near the counter next to a plate of sandwiches.
“Eat first.” Cherry ordered and grabbed a sandwich from the platter and handed it to Erica. “Then see if you can get anyone who’s awake to eat.”
“OK.” She obeyed, downing the sandwich and the glass of juice Nathaniel poured for her. Then she grabbed the platter of sandwiches and started her rounds. By that time, Cherry and the strangers had left the kitchen. Nathaniel continued making sandwiches to replenish her platter. He was quieter than usual, but seemed in good spirits as he loaded her up over and over.
Erica spent the next hour or so wandering the house, feeding the waking lycanthropes sandwiches and juice. Most of them were nude or barely covered, but since it didn’t seem to matter to them, she tried to ignore it. There was one awkward moment when she mistook Gregory’s twin brother for the wereleopard. But the young man was gracious about the mistake. She supposed it must happen often.
She was returning the last empty tray to the kitchen when Cherry called her over. The nurse had been moving tirelessly from one patient to another, checking for injuries and changing dressings. “Can you give me a hand?”
“Yeah. Just let me set this down.”
Cherry stood over Noah. He sat rigidly on one of Anita’s kitchen chairs, brought out into the living room for easier access. His upper body was bare. Three deep gashes scored across the left side of his back and shoulder. Erica swallowed hard at the sight. “What do you need?”
“Just hand me things when I ask for them. I need to close these before they heal too much or they may scar.”
“I didn’t think lycanthropes could get scars.” Erica commented, taking her place beside the first aid kit. It was the biggest one if it’s kind she had ever seen. The bandages were on top and she started handing them to Cherry one by one as she asked for them.
“Silver can scar. It also makes the wounds heal slower. So do injuries caused by other preternaturals. Like other lycanthropes or vampires.” Cherry’s voice took on a pedantic tone. “I’m using butterflies instead of sutures because Noah is healing fast enough that his skin might grow over the stitches.”
“Oh.” Erica watched Cherry’s hands as they moved, tending to Noah’s wounds. He stiffened a few times, but otherwise remained silent. She could see the pinkish borders of healing skin along the edges.
“Since I can’t use anesthetic, this is also easier on my patients.”
“We metabolize drugs too fast.” The young man’s voice held a trace of growl.
“Exactly.” Cherry bit her lip as she concentrated on sealing the gashes - claw marks, Erica suspected - with neat rows of bandages.
“But you guys never get sick.” Erica mused aloud. “Does anyone ever ask to be…”
“Infected?” Noah made a harsh noise in his throat, not quite a snarl. “Desperate people.”
“I did.” Cherry spoke quietly.
“You did?” Erica turned wide eyes on her.
“I lost my leg in a car crash. I got it back.”
“Was it…how…I…” Erica fumbled at the unexpected answer.
“Was it worth it?” Noah finished the question for her.
“If I knew the price I’d have to pay, I’m not sure I could do it again.” The blonde sighed and gestured for more bandages. “In the long run - yes. But I’m not sure I’d have the nerve to do it if I knew what was going to happen to me.”
“What about you?” Erica asked Noah.
“I was attacked.” His voice was curt. “And no. If I could go back in time - it’s not worth it. Not to me.”
“It’s better than the alternative.” Cherry commented absently, still working. “Not everyone survives.”
“No. They don’t.” He hissed and shifted uneasily on the hard chair. Then he turned his head and fixed Erica with a stern look. “This isn’t even close to the worst we’ve seen. You can still walk away. Go back to your normal life. Maybe you should, before something happens to you.”
“It’s not all bad, Noah.” Cherry patted him and adjusted a bandage. “And she wasn’t asking to be infected.”
“This isn’t even close to bad.” The young man hunched his shoulders the winced as it pulled on his injuries. “Not even close.”
“I think that does it.” Cherry repacked the kit with brisk efficiency. “Let’s see if anyone else needs patching up.”
Erica shot Noah a glance over her shoulder as she followed the blond in search of her next patient. He was still watching her, a frown on his face.
“I don’t think he likes me much.”
“I think he likes you well enough. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be so worried about you.” Cherry poked her head into the kitchen. It was empty for the moment and she gestured for Erica to join her inside. “You weren’t were you?”
“Weren’t what?” Erica wandered over to claim one of the few remaining glasses of juice. She took a sip.
“Asking to be…” Cherry glanced behind her and set the kit on the counter. She opened it and began reorganizing the supplies. “Infected.”
“I wasn’t really. ” Erica paused, her thoughts churning. “But…”
“But what?”
“I felt so helpless last night with the vampires. I was about as useful as a newborn kitten. ‘Watch out you don’t fall on the poor little human and break her’.” The bitterness in her own voice shocked her. “They did protect me. I’m OK. Really.”
“The truth is, Erica, it’s hard to stay close to us monsters without running the risk of getting hurt.” Cherry left the kit and took her own glass. “I’d be scared to death if I was dating a human. It would be so easy for all this to spill over and get someone hurt.”
“So…What?” Erica set down her glass, walking away to stare out the glass doors that led to the deck. She looked, but didn’t really see anything but a blur of trees. “You think I should dump Damian, too? Before I get hurt.”
“I didn’t say that.” Cherry sighed audibly. “People do make it work. I think it’s worth trying.” Erica was silent for a long moment, her thoughts churning. Behind her, she could hear Cherry continuing her reorganization of the kit.
“What if I did want to change things, Cherry? What if I wanted to be one of the monsters, too?”
“I’d tell you to think really hard about it.” Cherry shut the case with a decisive snap. “You’ll give up a lot more than you think.”
“Cherry…”
“Don’t ask me, Erica. Please.” She could see other woman’s reflection, poised in the kitchen doorway as if ready to flee the room. “Anita would never forgive me.”
“I wasn’t…I didn’t….” Erica fumbled. Had she really meant to ask that? “I won’t ask you.”
“OK.” Cherry hefted the case as if checking the balance. “I think I’d better go check in with Anita.” Then she was gone, leaving Erica alone with her thoughts. What would she lose if she did join the monsters? What would she lose if she didn’t?
* * *
“Erica.” Damian rose from his coffin with only one thought on his mind, one word on his lips. There was no welcoming smile to greet him when he climbed from his box and no sleeping girl in his bed. He thought for a moment that he was wholly alone until the plaintive meow of a cat told him that something stirred. Oblivious to any of the drama of the past few days, the little beast twined herself about his legs, demanding he fill her dish.
He smiled at the cat and murmured nonsense to it as he deigned to pour a bit of kibble for her. Erica had not left while he slept. She would not abandon her beloved Shadow. He left the cat to crunch away at her dinner and went in search of his pomme de sang. His own dinner could wait a bit longer.
He found her in the kitchen, her arms elbows deep in dishwater. She had been chatting quietly with Caleb but the leopard had fallen silent at the sound of his footsteps. The other man was now applying a dishtowel to the clean glassware with uncharacteristic diligence.
“Damian!” Erica turned a nervous smile in his direction. “Is it sunset already?”
“It is.” He moved closer, crowding the young wereleopard until he gave ground. The artificially bright citrus scent of the soap she was using tickled his nose and he could smell the faint musk of leopard beneath Caleb’s cologne. He deliberately ignored Caleb, wrapping his arms around Erica’s waist and pressing his face against her hair. He drew in a deep breath through his nose. She smelled good and clean and very much alive. He watched the other man continue to dry dishes, carefully not meeting the vampire’s eyes. “Did you sleep well?”
“Not really.” Erica’s voice was quiet. “I had some…bad dreams. But I’ve been too busy to think about them much. They’re just dreams, anyway. Right?”
“Just dreams.” He gave her a gentle squeeze. She leaned into the embrace for a moment, and then pulled away slightly.
“Have you fed yet?”
“No.” He bent down to brush her neck with his lips. She shivered. “I wanted to see you first.”
“I thought so. Your skin feels cool.” She pulled a couple of dishes from the soapy water and dunked them in the basin of rinse water. Water sloshed nearly to the edge of the sink and more of the citrus scent wafted up. “Why don’t you go feed and we’ll try to finish up here?”
“I will be back soon.” He dropped his arms, but continued to watch her as she worked. “Perhaps we can go out now that the immediate danger is over.”
“You think so? That would be great.” Erica flashed him a bright smile that demanded a smile in reply from him. With the image of her smile foremost in his thoughts, he went in search of a blood donor and his mistress.
An hour later they were in a car with a pair of Anita’s leopards on their way to the cinema. Anita had relaxed her guard enough to allow them to go out, though not alone. But her choice of companions told him she thought the danger slight. Gregory and Vivian would be little more than cannon fodder should there be a fight. At the moment, Gregory was teasing the exotic little beauty in the front seat. Vivian lived with his twin, a werewolf named Stephen. The wereleopardess was blushing at his comments.
It was then that Erica spoke up, steering talk away from Vivian’s love life to the question of what movie they were to see. Damian let the chatter wash over him, simply enjoying having Erica’s warm body tucked under his arm while they sat together in the back seat. The movie itself did not matter to him. He’d had little chance for such frivolous entertainments over the centuries.
His companions reached their decision shortly before they arrived at their destination. The theater was filled with hundreds of other moviegoers. Following Anita’s orders, they stuck together in a close little knot. A sea of strangers flowed about them. Most simply ignored them, moving past without a glance. Some watched him from the corners of their eyes, recognizing him for the vampire that he was. A few stared openly, but he ignored them. He was not working and felt no obligation to put himself on display.
Gregory insisted that popcorn and soda were mandatory and bought enough for a small army. Thus burdened, they took their seats in the darkened theater and the show began. He had paid no attention to the titles on the marquee, but the movie itself was charming. Some sort of youthful fancy with monsters and magic that managed to draw even a jaded old vampire like himself into its tale.
Erica seemed completely enthralled, squeezing his hand tightly when the action was the most exciting or turning to share her quiet laughter with him when things became lighthearted. It was a pleasant and novel way to spend an evening with a woman. And despite the crowd around them, it felt rather intimate sitting together in the darkened room. He’d almost forgotten their lycanthropic chaperones by the time the lights came back up and people began to filter out of the theater.
“Where to next?” Gregory’s blue eyes gleamed in the suddenly bright light.
“We’d better go back to Anita’s.” Vivian said quietly. “She’ll be worried if we’re late. And Stephen should be waiting for me by now.”
And so they went. He would have liked to spend more time away from his basement crypt. It was beginning to feel close and confining. But he would not risk Anita’s ire. Not now when she could argue that Erica was no longer in danger and send her away.
He studied his pomme de sang quietly as she chatted animatedly with the wereleopards. Gregory argued that the action was too unrealistic. There was not enough blood and gore for his taste. Or sex. The women countered that it was a movie intended for children and families. More sex or violence would have been inappropriate for both the audience and the story. He declined to offer his own opinion. He hadn’t enough experience with movies to be any judge. He had simply enjoyed it as a new experience.
By the time they returned to Anita’s home, the conversation had wound down to a companionable quiet. Nathaniel was waiting up for them with Gregory's twin, Stephen the werewolf. Anita had not yet returned from her evening of raising the dead and Micah was busy with coalition business. He and Erica bid the others good night and excused themselves to his basement apartment for some privacy.
“Did you actually like the movie? Or did it seem silly to you?” Erica asked him once they were alone. She sank down on his couch to slip off her sandals with a sigh of relief.
“I did not find it silly. A bit fanciful perhaps.” He sat down next to her and stretched out his long legs. He slid his arms along the back of the sofa, not quite encircling her with one arm. She let her head fall back to rest against his arm, baring the arch of her neck in an enticing display. “I enjoyed the storytelling.”
“I guess it’s a lot different from the way things were done when…” Her eyes flicked up to meet his.
“When I was mortal?”
“Yes.”
“We did not have such technological wonders as moving pictures. But the art of storytelling - I do not think it has changed so much. It is simply the tools that have changed.”
“Oh. I think I understand.” She turned her head, her hair rubbing like silk against his skin. “You thought it was a good story.”
“Yes. I did.” He smiled at her and slid his arm down around her shoulders. He pulled her against him. “I would not mind seeing another of these movies with you.”
“Without chaperones, you mean?”
“Yes. Without chaperones.” His smile widened enough to flash just a hint of fang. Then his expression became more serious. Damian leaned down to catch her lips in a kiss. Her mouth was soft and sweet under his. She moaned softly and pressed closer, her fingers wandering upwards to tangle in his hair. He kept the kiss slow and lazy, savoring every taste and sigh.
He could hear the beating of her pulse, like a moth beating against a pane of glass. It was strong and steady, reassuring to his ears. Jean Claude and Asher had not taken enough to weaken her. The possibilities made his own pulse grow louder and faster. He let his fingers glide down her body, grazing the curves of her breasts and stroking across her ribs until he found the hem of her blouse. He slipped his fingers beneath, seeking the silken warmth of her skin.
“Oh, yes.” She murmured against his lips. She raised her arms for him so that he could tug her top over her head and toss it aside. The pale, lacy green bra she wore framed the curves of her breasts attractively, commanding his attention. He lowered his mouth to them, tasting her skin and nibbling gently at the soft flesh. She arched her back and dug her fingers into his hair again. She pulled him closer, encouraging him. “Damian.” She whispered.
The pounding of her heartbeat seemed to grow louder and louder in his hears until it was almost a roar of sound. The scent of her desire and the warm rich, alive scent of blood beneath her skin flooded his senses. She was growing bolder with each passing moment. Her hands moved from his hair to tug at his clothing. Damian stifled a growl and stood quickly enough to startle a gasp from her.
Without ever taking his gaze from her, he stripped out of his clothes. He kept his movements human-slow, enjoying this private audience of one. She watched him with hungry eyes, licking her kiss-swollen lips in an unconsciously sensual gesture.
In just a few moments, he stood naked before her. “I want you, Erica. All of you.”
“You mean we can…?” Her eyes widened and she rose from the couch to come to him. “Yes. Just…yes.”
He folded his arms around her and kissed her again. He let his hands roam, unclasping her bra and sliding it from her body. She kissed him back, her mouth fierce and hungry. Her hands traveled up and down his body, touching him with a mixture of tenderness and possessiveness that heightened both his passion and his hunger.
He let his hands fall to the waistband of her skirt. The sharp hiss of a zipper cut through the air as he loosed the garment and let it fall from her hips. She wore no hose, simply a pair of pale green satin panties that matched the bra. Those too followed the skirt to the floor. Once she was nude, he lifted her from the pool of fabric and carried her the short distance to the bed. She surprised him, taking advantage of the closeness to nibble playfully at his throat. His grip tightened around her and his breath caught in his throat.
“My lovely.” He murmured and lowered her to the bed. He followed, stretching the length of his along hers. He rose above her on his arms, letting his hair fall forward in a veil of scarlet. Her eyes were wide and dark; her pupils twin pools of liquid desire.
He traced a trail of kisses from her mouth along her jaw and down the curve of her neck until he found the pulse point. He kissed the spot, fluttering below her skin like a trapped butterfly. He could hear her heartbeat growing still faster. A faint trace of fear scent mixed with the muskier scent of arousal.
“I will not hurt you.” He murmured against her skin and stroked soothing caresses down her body.
“I know.” She whispered and shivered under his caresses. She returned them, her hands exploring his body, stroking down his spine, cupping one buttock and squeezing before moving on. He lowered his mouth to her breasts, dropping light kisses across the curves of both mounds before taking a nipple into his mouth. He suckled carefully, hand cradling the other breast while his free hand moved lower. She clutched at his shoulders when his fingers slid between her thighs to find the flesh there swollen, slick and ready for him.
He toyed with her while he enjoyed suckling at her breasts. She writhed and gasped for him as he stroked and teased at her entrance. “Oh, please. Damian. Please.”
“Please, what?” He lifted his eyes just enough to meet hers as he dropped more kisses over her chest. His lips spread in a smile of pleasure at her pleas. “What do you want?”
“I want…” She gasped as he gently pinched the little bud of flesh hidden between her thighs. He rolled it back and forth between his fingertips and she writhed for him. “Oh…you…I want you…I want you to…”
“To what, my lovely?” He kissed his way up the column of her neck and purred in her ear.
“I want you to…” Her hand slid down and wrapped around his erection, squeezing firmly before stroking from the base to the head and back again. “Put this inside me. Now.”
“Now?” He chuckled softly and nuzzled at her neck.
“Yes. Now.” She sighed as he let his fingers slip inside her. He stroked her from the inside until she moaned for him.
“And is there nothing else you want from me, my lovely pomme de sang?”
“Mmm…” She squeezed him again and writhed, her hips rising to meet the thrusting of his fingers. “I want you to feed. Feed while you make love to me.”
“As you wish.” He murmured, his lips above hers as he shifted position. He settled himself between her thighs and she reached out to embrace him. She wound arms and legs about him, pulling him down and urging him on. But he set his own pace, taking his time pressing his length slowly inside her. She clung to him, moaning. Her voice was soft and husky, pleasure and frustration mingling in her tones.
He kissed her deeply. Thoroughly. He entered her mouth with the same deliberateness that he entered her body. He savored the feel of her, of the warm slickness that enveloped him. The press of her body against his. The softness of her skin and the give of her breasts. He could feel their hardened tips when his body lay against hers. He held himself there, his hips flush against hers. He stayed poised there, as deep as he could go, refusing to move despite the straining of her body, wordlessly asking for more. He plundered her mouth, digging his fingers into her hair so that he could hold her still while he explored every bit of her sweet mouth.
The girl beneath him groaned into his mouth. Her heart fluttered beneath her breast, the sound a siren’s call of hunger and desire. She clutched at his shoulders and stroked down his spine. She cried out into his mouth and writhed restlessly, eager for more. He let his mouth drift from her lips, along the ridge of her jaw and back to that same throbbing pulse of life at her throat. He nibbled at it teasingly, drawing a gasp from her. “Please, Damian. Please.”
“Not yet.” Then he rose up on his arms so that he could watch her face and began to move. He kept his thrusts slow and smooth, wishing to draw out this pleasure for as long as he could make it last. He watched emotion play across her face as he made love to her. He held his own needs at bay while he carefully stoked the fires of desire with each measured push of his hips.
Sweet friction built, sensation on sensation until he could feel her muscles begin to tense and spasm. He waited, his own need and hunger mingling into one great, piercing desire. As the first spasms of release took her, he struck.
His fangs pierced her skin with no sense of resistance. While her inner muscles contracted and pulsed around him, blood began to flow into his mouth. Sweet, hot, and salty, filled with life. It poured into his mouth and down his throat. Erica cried out, her words vague and unformed. She wound her arms around his neck, holding him close as he continued to drink of her life’s blood, his hips still pumping against her.
Twice pierced, she shuddered, her body bucking with the throes of passion. He held her carefully, tenderly, conscious of his own strength and her fragile mortality. Tension built within him, each stroke pushing him closer to his own release, each drop of blood adding to the sense of fullness and aching need.
He held on to his control, pushing his limits, wishing to make this first time something they both would remember. He clung to his control until his body started to fight him and the rhythm of heartbeat changed, beginning to struggle with the loss of blood.
Then, and only then did he let go. He raised his head, his lips stained with her blood as he pumped his seed into her body with a groan of completion. She shivered beneath him, her body quivering with lingering aftershocks. Pleased with himself, he rolled onto his side and tucked her into the curve of his arm. She rested against him, her head pillowed on his shoulder. They were quiet for a long time, only their breathing and pounding of their hearts broke the stillness. It was Erica who broke the silence first. Her voice was breathy and blurred with fatigue. “Wow. That was just…wow.”
He hugged her more tightly and rubbed his chin across the top of her head. “Was that all you wished it to be?” He reached down to pull the rumpled bedclothes over them both. She hadn’t said anything yet, but her skin must be growing cool as the sweat of their exertions began to dry.
“More. It was more.” She snuggled closer to him and helped him tuck the blankets about them both. “How about you? Does feeding really make that much difference for you?”
“Oh, yes.” He murmured. “The only pleasure greater than making love to you is to drink of you while I do so.”
“Mmmhmm.” She agreed.
“And there is one more advantage.” He drew teasing fingertips along her arm. Gooseflesh rose in their wake. She gave a little quiver of reaction.
“What is that?”
“We can do this again as soon as you are ready.”
“Oh.” She turned her head so she could look up at him. A smile played around the corners of her mouth and her eyes gleamed with interest. “Oh. In that case, I think we have to do that again.”
“Oh, yes. I think we do.”
When the dawn came at last and he left her for his daytime rest, it was in a state of pleasurable exhaustion. He left her sleeping the deep slumber of true satiation. It had been a very good night indeed.