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Aleah
I’m pretty sure this is a bad idea. But I don’t pull away from Luc.
The instant flare of almost-emerald in his normally blue eyes says everything about want and need. With a low, animal-like growl that ratchets up my own desire ten-fold, his mouth devours mine, and this time, I let him fully in. It’s a decision I didn’t think I would ever make, but this whole ordeal has surprised me, especially with how easy it has been to give in to Luc. I’ll have to dissect that later. But for now, I allow myself to surrender to the need that has been vibrating within me ever since he first landed on my doorstep.
His kisses are like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Despite his earlier assertion that I must have been with others, I’m not at all experienced. I’ve kissed a few men, but he will be my first lover, if I have the courage to let it go that far.
I’m not sure if that’s something I want to share with him. At first, I’m hoping he’ll be patient, and go slowly, but I don’t think he will unless I say something. And I’m afraid if I do, he’ll want to stop.
He takes my mouth in a way that both demands and gives, in equal measure. Like he is claiming ownership. And the feeling of being owned, being someone’s possession, is something I never thought I would ever enjoy. It has never crossed my mind as something to strive toward, as something to be proud of, but heat flares through my body as quickly as fireworks shoot across the sky. Every nerve, every inch of my flesh, is hypersensitive to the touch of his skin against mine. It’s almost painful. I don’t want it to stop.
As the kiss progresses, my need grows. Now I want him to take me, hard and fast. It completely contradicts my earlier feelings of preferring slow and steady. As long as he takes me, as long as he makes me see stars and the moon and makes me forget my own name, I don’t care how he does it. I need him to make me forget everything that has happened in the past few days. Everything, except this delicious ache that continues to grow and center in the plump bud between my legs.
He tastes clean and slightly minty. Did he use my toothpaste while I slept? The tip of his tongue flicks in and out, dancing with mine, the connection sending an army of shivers to traverse my body. I can’t help the moan that escapes me, but he captures that quickly and moans in return, our shared desire spiraling upward. Still the kiss goes on.
His urgent fingers trace patterns on my back. I arch into the caresses, my hips rocking back and forth of their own accord, using the hardness and heat of his erection to increase my own ardor. Wet slickness coats my seam and I break away from his kiss, panting heavily and trying to understand exactly what is happening to my body.
I want him. So much. I want him inside me. Now.
When his mouth drops to my neck, nuzzling along the path of my carotid artery, I manage to say in a voice made breathless with anticipation, “Take me, Luc. Please.”
He chuckles against my neck, the sensation sending tremors of heat in all directions. “Did you say, taste?”
“Take!” I can hardly catch my breath at all. My whole body is on fire. “Or taste. Do either. Do both. I don’t care. Just do—Oh!”
This time when his fangs pierce my skin there’s no pain whatsoever, not even the faint sense of a pinprick that I felt earlier when he bit down on my nipple. Instead it’s almost a tickle, like the softest caress of breath. I don’t quite know what he’s doing, or how, but the rush of warmth in my neck spreads throughout my whole body, right out to my fingertips and toes, until it circles back again and centers right where it has the most impact. It’s as if he’s introduced a sex-seeking drug to my blood and my body cooperates by carrying it super-fast along every vein. The heat reaches into every nook and cranny of my body. Every inch of my being. Coalescing at my core. It makes me want more. I crave him. I crave everything about him.
“Oh, my God!” This level of sensation is insane. I can’t believe I’m doing this, of all things. With Luc. But I don’t care.
I can’t hold on. He continues to suckle and whatever he’s doing pushes me beyond any place of sensuality I’ve experienced in the past. The crescendo builds until it bursts through me, unable to be contained a moment longer, and I tip over the edge into a crazy, bucking climax.
My legs collapse beneath me and I let out a muffled shriek as my whole body begins to rock with the force of the orgasm. His strong arms catch me as I buckle. He lifts me with ease, and I wrap my legs around his waist, working more by instinct than anything else, and tilt my pelvis to prolong the exquisite pressure against my pulsing clit. His hands spread-eagle my butt cheeks, fingers reaching in to explore my slit through the thin fabric of my sweats, stilling when he reaches my still-spasming channel entrance.
“Your sweatpants are in the way.”
“Rip them off.” What the actual fuck has come over me? These sweats are my favorite comfy old— “Oh, my.”
He rips them apart, right down the center seam. Well, I can’t blame him. He did exactly as I asked. As the two halves of my favorite sweatpants and the underlying pink underwear sag away to the sides, he dips into my slit with a forefinger. One swipe and I’m primed and ready yet again. How is that even possible?
“You’re wet. So wet.” His voice is thick and I raise my eyes to his. They’re ablaze now, like bright emeralds. No blue left at all. I feel as if I could lose myself in their brilliant depths. I force my gaze back down, to his lips, and realize his mouth is coated in blood. My blood. A droplet descends from the corner of his lips.
I don’t think, just react, leaning in to lick the droplet from his chin. His shocked gasp is reward enough. The taste is metallic and kind of gross.
“Ew.” I wrinkle my nose, and he laughs at my distaste. I realize it’s the first time I’ve heard a genuine laugh from him since we met, and the sound makes me long for more. “That is seriously not nice.”
His grin widens, the fangs showcased in full force. “Oh, I think we’ll have to agree to disagree on that one, Aleah.”
In this moment, at least on the surface, he looks exactly like what he is—a predator triumphantly holding aloft his prey. And yet, underlying the predator, I read a faint hesitancy in his manner. He’s not one hundred percent sure how I’m going to react. In his uncertainty, I see the man as well as the vampire, and that fact in itself is an aphrodisiac.
“I want you, Aleah.” His tone is husky and sends shivers up and down my body. But there’s also hesitation. Does he still think I’ll reject him? “Will you let me take you?”
My heart pounds and dizziness fills my head. A tiny part of my brain wonders if it’s because he took too much blood. Is my heart trying to compensate by speeding up until it almost jumps out of my chest?
Somehow, though, the other part of me knows, without really understanding how, that he wouldn’t allow that to happen. He may feed, or taste, or make it part of the mating ritual, but he won’t drain me dry, nor let harm come to me in this situation. I don’t know how I know that for sure, but I do. And that, in turn, reassures me that I want this. I want to feel him inside of me. I want him to take me in a way I haven’t been taken before.
“Yes.” I nod once. “I want that. But I want it fast.”
There’s a pause before he says, “I can accommodate that request.”
He trails kisses across my jawline.
I tilt my head back, offering him more access to my throat. In one swift movement, he swivels and throws me backward onto the mattress. His actions are such a blur that even my half-fae eyes can’t keep up. He undresses and only a nano-second later is lying atop me on the bed. His desire presses against my thigh.
“As a vamp I have no illness to pass on, nor active seed with which to make a child,” he assures me. “You will not need protection, little banshee, nor will you want it.”
My heart lurches again. I hadn’t even thought of that. Many years ago, when I was still living with my aunt in the city, the other girls at school all got their periods and I did not.
“You’re a half-breed,” my aunt explained. “Half-breeds are neither one thing, nor another. You won’t ever get your period like the human girls, but you’ll also never be able to bear a child of your own, like a full fae.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that information at the time, only because having kids wasn’t something that had ever crossed my mind. I was grateful that I didn’t have to worry about a period, however. I saw girls struggle with it every month, and in order to keep up appearances, I faked having one too. But I didn’t know what it was like, not really.
I’d completely forgotten that conversation until this moment. With Luc poised above me ready to enter, the memory returns, as does the faint sense of sadness at never being able to reproduce.
There’s something else I should have told him before this moment. “I—”
Too late. The head of his organ finds my channel entrance and he thrusts hard and fast, just like I asked of him. I do not think he even heard me try to tell him. The pain leaches through my body in an unexpected wave. At my muffled shriek he stills instantly.
There’s a heavy silence between us. I can feel him shift slightly, careful, as if afraid he’s going to hurt me. His gaze is burning and bright as his eyes scan my face.
“What the...you’re...a virgin?” he finally asks.
I continue to hold onto his shoulders, though my grip has lessened considerably as my body adjusts to his size. I look away, unable to keep his gaze. “Um, yeah.”
“Why didn’t—”
“Probably should have mentioned it, huh?”
“Yes.” His teeth are gritted, the fangs hanging down over his bottom lip, and the rictus of concentration on his face is testament to the control it must be taking him to remain still. “Probably should have.”
I clear my throat. “Well, now that you’re in, so to speak...”
“I am definitely in.”
The initial pain has receded, and I wiggle my hips experimentally. He groans above me, the sound heartfelt. “Don’t do that, little one, unless you want to finish this fully.”
“What makes you think I don’t want to finish this?”
If I was capable of rolling my eyes in this moment, I would. How much more obvious does a girl need to be? Now that the pain has ebbed, the sensation of fullness rises. He’s so big. How is it possible for my body to house all of those magnificent inches? The pressure in what feels like every part of my belly increases the pleasurable ache between my legs. I will scream if he withdraws now. I will claw at his skin. I will wail like... well... me.
“Of course, I want to bloody well finish it,” I add, and this time, I do roll my eyes. “Do it, Luc. I dare you.”
It’s childish, certainly, but it gets the job done. His groan morphs into a yell and he thrusts again, only this time it is desire that blasts through my system rather than pain. I drop my hands from his shoulders and clutch at his perfectly shaped butt, urging him closer, deeper and faster. My legs coil around his waist, ankles pressing into his lower back, locking him in place. He complies, ratcheting up the rhythm until nothing exists but the relentless bang, bang, bang into my receptive body. I squeeze my legs to meet each thrust, my grip around his hips as tight as it can be. It feels right, clinging to him like a limpet, urging him deeper again. My breath rasps noisily as he rides my body, and I gasp and moan and beg for him to finish.
“Aleah, I can’t do this...I can’t wait any—”
“Come!” I shout the word as loudly as it is possible for me to do with my faulty voice. I don’t want him to tell me all the things he can’t do. I want him to focus on this. On us.
He does, letting loose with a roar and emptying into me with a rush of what feels like liquid heat somewhere deep inside my womb. The pumping motion, the slick wetness, the sound of his moaning voice and my continued gasps as our bodies slap, slap, slap against each other—all of these things together tip me over the edge once again. Only this time, the orgasm starts from deep within and is just as powerful as the first.
I scream and lose myself in the myriad of sensation, bucking and moaning beneath him until there’s nothing left but this. Luc and I, together. As one. Eventually, after what seems like aeons, I drift back to the here and now. He strokes my cheek and stares at me with what appears to be dazed confusion.
“What?” I ask.
He’s still seated inside me. It’s ridiculous in this moment to be embarrassed by his intent scrutiny, but I am.
I shift, uncomfortable with his unmoving gaze.
“Do not move... just yet.”
My eyes widen. “Are you okay?”
“Just sensitive.”
“Hmm.” I look away. I can still feel him watching me. “What?”
“Nothing.” He doesn’t sound perturbed in the slightest by my tone. Always cool, calm, and collected, even now. “Just...taking in your beauty.”
“Oh. Well, thanks.”
Luc is nothing like I expected. Joy rises in me. Perhaps I did make the right decision to finally give up my long-held virginity to this man. Perhaps I should listen to gut instinct more often.
“You always smell like honey,” he continues. His hand reaches up and pushes away stray strands of hair currently matted to my face. “Sweet and pure. I love it.”
“Well, thank you.” I clear my throat and begin to trace circles on his shoulder. “Again. The bees are my passion. I guess I just carry their scent with me wherever I go.”
“And it is delectable.” His voice is almost a purr and my toes curl in response. “So subtle as to be almost not there. Divine. It gets inside my head until I can’t think properly.”
“Oh.” I need more than just a one-word response. “Is that a good thing?”
“Depends on the circumstances of the moment and whether I need to keep my wits about me, I suppose,” he says. “Right now, it’s a very good thing.”
His free hand mimics my action and begins to trace lazy patterns across my naked breasts. He then drifts downward to explore lower, where our bodies still remain joined.
I can’t help the surprised puff of breath that escapes. Seems I’ve not had enough of Luc. His caress intensifies, feather-light and yet insistent, until the ache in my clit reaches unbearable levels.
His hand movements quicken and a fingertip slides past my clit to explore the wetness of my seam that still holds his own organ captive. A low rumble starts up in his chest.
“Yes. Oh! You really do have very skilful...fingers.” Shivers run through me and the desire seats completely in the region he’s exploring. My lady parts are heavy and full and achy.
“I do,” he agrees. If I wasn’t so consumed by pleasure, I probably would call out his arrogance. But I cannot focus on anything except his touch.
He shifts suddenly, rolling sideways and taking me over with him until he’s lying on his back and I have no choice but to sit straddling his hips. His erection is once again at full mast; I feel its length and girth deep inside, pushing at the walls of my channel. I pause, giving myself time to adjust with him so deeply buried inside of me. Being on top feels different, but in a good way. I rock gently back and forth, experimenting a little, and we both release a low moan in unison.
Well, that works. That works very nicely, indeed.
It amazes me that there are so many different ways to experience pleasure with the same person.
“And you have a very skilful...body.” His voice is a rasp. I have no idea how he still has the ability to talk at all, especially when he fills me up in all the right places.
His captivating eyes are half-closed as he urges my hips to continue their leisurely sway. His fangs are out and their sharp whiteness against his darker lips doesn’t scare me as much as it did when I first caught a glimpse of the predator on my doorstep.
I lean forward and press my lips to his, exploring a little and swiping the toothy protrusions with my tongue, all the while keeping my hip movement going, back and forth, as my clit enjoys its own pleasure against his groin.
My gestures are all instinctual. I just keep doing what feels good.
The resultant groan from Luc is deep and hoarse. “God, Aleah. I can’t seem to get enough of you.”
“I know that feeling.”
This time, our coupling is much slower and gentler. I sink into a hot mess of need and rising desire as time ceases to exist. I cease to exist. There’s only Luc’s mouth beneath mine, unhurried movements deep within my body, and heat that sears like a rush of wildfire along my veins.
When the slow build reaches its crescendo, I lose control with a muted shriek. I climax around him, my channel clenching and unclenching as I shudder and collapse onto his chest. The sensation dims briefly and then reignites, over and over. The ecstasy continues on and on until there’s nothing left but a mighty roar from Luc as he, too, falls over the edge into orgasm. We shudder and shake together until our bodies sink into an exhausted sleep. This time, coming back from oblivion takes much longer.
When I open my eyes and meet Luc’s gaze, he smiles. There isn’t an ounce of the predator left in that smile. It softens his features, giving the impression of someone younger and less jaded than what I’m used to seeing. I like this new version of Luc. I want to see more of him.
“I do have one question.” He shifts a lock of hair off my face, the touch like a zap of electricity.
“Mmm?”
I think this must be what they call the after-glow. Whatever it is, it’s upon me. I slide off him until we’re lying side by side. I would be happy to keep drifting in the warmth until we gently sink back into sleep, but he props himself up on one elbow and stares down with an intent look.
“What do you do with all the honey?”
Laughter bubbles up. “That’s your post-sex question?”
“I’m curious.”
“I keep some for myself.” My lips part involuntarily as he traces my jawline, and his eyes narrow in obvious satisfaction at my reaction. “I...oh!”
His hand circles my nipples and they pucker in response. He gives me another self-satisfied, narrow-eyed look.
“That’s...um...I also create other products like candles and beeswax furniture polish and soap, and sell some at...at the local craft shop in town...That feels very nice, Luc.”
How is it possible that I can still crave more? How is it possible that I haven’t slid into the abyss, broken in two, and can still handle another round?
“Good.” He grins, tracing a figure eight around my breasts.
I remember his bite and quickly look down, but cannot see any mark whatsoever around either of my nipples. “You did...bite me, didn’t you? I didn’t imagine that?”
“I most certainly did, and it was delicious.” He flicks one of the peaked nubs playfully. “My saliva has healing properties, if I choose to allow it. I could drink my fill of you every evening and no one would ever see a mark.”
“Hmm.” Not sure how I feel about that. Every night? Might be a bit much. My traitorous clit throbs delightfully at the thought of Luc and I doing this, every night. It’s as if my body wishes to prove my brain wrong.
He splays his fingers over my ribs. “You have such a beautiful body, Aleah. Perfect in every way. What happened to your voice? Why is it—”
“Defective?”
“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as—”
“I would. And it is. I don’t know.” I shrug, the lifelong frustration eating away at me. I don’t like talking about it. I don’t like that he’s noticed it and brings it up because it reminds me of something I don’t want to talk about. But I find myself sharing my story, and it is easier to share with him than I thought. “I guess I was just born with a voice that is difficult to hear, especially when it matters most.”
Luc frowns. “Is there anything you can do, though? Even if the dying—or their families—could hear you, there’s nothing a banshee can do to prevent death coming. Is there?”
“I don’t know!” That’s the crux of the matter, and the reason for all of my angst. “What if there is? What if, when people hear my wail, they become more vigilant, or pick up a weapon, or...or... I don’t know. Do something to change the outcome! What if other banshees have the power to change the course of fate?”
I sit up now, too energized to lie still. I hold the sheet against my chest, even though he has seen me, even though he’s touching me. My thoughts are on my wail. If it wasn’t defective, I might actually be able to help people, to warn them before death has a chance to take them.
“Don’t you know?” He scoots next to me, placing his hand on my thigh. The thin material of the sheet protects me from nothing, and even though he’s rather cool, warmth spreads through my body. “Can’t you ask...I don’t know...someone?”
“Who?” I shift with frustration and Luc removes his hand. “My mother abandoned me as a baby and I was raised by humans alone. The only things I know about anything fae is what I’ve accidentally discovered myself, or what I see or hear in the news!”
I don’t realize I’m wringing my hands until Luc’s come down to cover mine.
“I apologize, Aleah.” His touch is cool, not cold, and the instant he cradles my clenched fists I feel butterflies start up in my belly. Light butterfly wings beating gently, lifting my energy and increasing awareness until there is nothing left but him, and me, and our connected hands resting on the coverlet. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Rest now. We’ve expended a lot of energy this evening.”
I release a sigh, trying to let go of questions that have no answer. He’s right. We have expended a lot of energy.
I must fall asleep, because when I wake, Luc is leaning up on one elbow watching me. He seems to be making it a habit.
“Good morning.” My greeting is automatic.
His answering grin is faintly feral, but I’m beginning to enjoy rather than recoil from that hint of the predatory in his nature.
“Almost morning,” he corrects, his voice husky with sleep. “I’ll need to leave soon, before dawn breaks.”
Part of me doesn’t want him to leave.
“Before you do, where are you from, Luc?” I sit up, brushing the hair that falls in his face. I’m trying to keep him here, delay his trip. “I mean, originally? What’s your background?”
He raises one dark eyebrow. “Well, you already know I was born in France.” He sits on the edge of the bed, indulging me, for which I’m grateful. “I lived in Paris until the age of thirty-six, when I was turned by a Parisian courtesan who I...uh...” The rush of sadness that chokes his voice is unexpected.
“A woman you loved?”
“Yeah. I did love Veronique. I loved her before she turned me, and I loved her until the day she met her true death.” He plays with the edge of the coverlet, until the fidgeting becomes too much.
This time it is I who covers his hand to force stillness. I don’t like hearing about someone he used to care for, and yet, I’m glad he shared that knowledge with me. I appreciate his trust.
Eventually he continues. “I stayed a while with my Maker and her clan, until...”
Pain flares briefly in his features before quickly being masked.
“Until?” My prompt is gentle.
“Until her death by stake many years ago.” The admission is stilted. Whoever Veronique was to Luc in life, or after his turning, he clearly loved her dearly. I’m surprised to find I’m not terribly threatened by this admission. I’ve never loved anyone as fiercely as he clearly loved her. I don’t know if I ever will.
The mention of a stake reminds me I need to replenish the one that normally resides in my belt loop. Luc may have proven not to be a threat, but that doesn’t mean all vamps have suddenly become angels in training.
When I’m in the throes of a death call, my mind is fuzzy and I need the comforting protection a stake can bring. Perhaps I make some kind of move or telling gesture, because he nods toward my dresser.
“They’re all in there, ready for you to sheathe and strap back on. When you do use the weapon, grip it like this rather than the way you held it when you were facing me.” He does some complicated movement with his fingers, mimicking a slightly different hold for the stake than the one I would normally use. “If you hold it like this, you’ll have more control. It’ll be easier to strike here...” He touches the soft ‘v’ at the base of his throat. “Or the eye, or even into his ear if he’s not facing forward. Or here.” He indicates the groin area. “And whatever you do, Allie, strike to kill. You’ll only have one chance.”
It’s strange to watch him teach me how to kill him, if I choose. The fact that we’re both still naked just adds to the unusualness of the situation. And yet, it doesn’t feel wrong.
I nod without speaking. I hope it will never come to that, though I’m damn sure not going to leave home without my stakes now. Nor the silver knife. Not after what has been happening out there.
He studies me for a moment and adds a last piece of advice. “With the current situation, might not hurt to add one of those silver daggers to your arsenal—at least until every rogue is disabled and we’ve gotten to the bottom of what’s really going on.”
“Are you a mind reader, now?” I slide out of bed and head over to the dresser. I open the drawer to see what I have available.
“Not really,” he says. He gestures with his chin. “But your fingers clench in a particular way when you’re about to hold your stake. I noticed it that first night—and you just did the same thing again a few moments earlier.”
Heat warms my cheeks and I’m glad I’m not looking at him directly. “It’s not you,” I tell him. I’m surprised that I actually mean it. “It’s just...I’m sorry. My experience of vamps is limited and what I do know of them...of your kind...is not pleasant.”
I swallow. My throat is dry. How have I changed this much in so little time? Apologizing for something I used to be so sure of.
“You said one ruined your life.” His voice is tentative. “You were attacked?”
“No.” I shake my head, deciding on a stake and pulling it out. “It was my father. He...he died. I was four.” My eyes narrow on the stake as I twist it in my hand, trying out the hold Luc suggested. The action is easier than remembering.
“Oh, Aleah. I’m so very sorry. It must have been a young vamp, freshly turned, perhaps, and temporarily hunger-driven.” He’s trying to be nice, but it doesn’t help. I don’t want to hear about how it’s a tragic accident that shouldn’t have happened in the first place. “Those of us older and more experienced will feed without harming our prey. As you experienced last night.”
Prey. What am I thinking, entertaining such a being in my bed? He sees all human creatures as his prey, obviously including me.
I slam the drawer shut and turn to face him. My tone is sharper than I intend when I answer. “It wasn’t a young vamp. It was two of them. And one was actually a woman.”
Luc stands up so quickly I don’t even see the movement. His eyes narrow. “A...woman?”
Why is he surprised by that news? I nod, gripping my stake tightly in my hand. I know Luc won’t attack me, but I feel much safer holding onto it compared to when I didn’t. “Yes, that’s what my aunt told me, when I grew old enough to understand.”
“I...see.” There’s a new note of tension in his tone. I’m not sure what it means. “If you were four, then this was about twenty-five years ago?”
“Mm hmm. What’s the matter?” I narrow my eyes, sitting a safe distance away from him on the bed.
“I’m not sure.” There’s a note in his voice I can’t identify. “Have you always lived in Hatton Grove?”
What a strange question. “No. I was born in the city, and lived in Melbourne with my aunt after my father passed away.” I suddenly feel naked in front of him, exposed, and want to cover up. I’m not ashamed of my body, but it’s deeper than just my physical appearance. “It was only after she died too—cancer, sadly—that I decided to get away from...people.”
Luc’s frown creates vertical lines between his dark brows.
“So, you moved here because of your gift?” he asks.
A gift. No one has ever suggested my banshee power is anything but a curse.
I nearly laugh but stop myself. I go back to my dresser and this time pull out some underwear.
“Yes, it is a little easier out here,” I say. “I don’t experience every human death. If I did, it would be non-stop agony and I think perhaps that would kill me, too, despite the protection afforded by my fae blood. I do feel the call if it occurs within a certain proximity. I might be isolated from others out here, but where there are less people, there are less death calls.”
Until the rogues came to town.
