Authors: Claire C Riley
I lay her
body down on my bed and she curls into a ball. Grabbing the throw from the bottom of my bed, I drag it up her rain-soaked body. She does not feel cold, but some comforts are required whether alive or dead. And a body needs security and to feel protected in times of great stress—that much I know. That much I remember.
I climb on the bed beside her and hold her body to mine, feeling her tears damp against me, the moisture running down my chest. Her body quakes, her shoulders shaking as the tears wrack her body, twisting the pain inside her and turning it into something more visible. Something purer.
“Shhh.” I kiss the top of her head, and her fingers cling on to me tighter.
“What did he do to me?” She looks up at me, and then cries out again as another flashback hits her hard. Oliver—she sees his death, she feels that pain again, her nails digging into my sides, tearing and scratching my flesh. It stings, but I grit my teeth against it, letting her wring out her pain.
She howls as more memories flood her and I feel them all—feel the pain of losing her loved ones, of torment and torture and confusion. Of loss, and love, and hate. So much hate.
She howls, the sound tearing through her chest and exploding from her perfect red lips. I press her face closer to me, kissing her head frantically.
“It’s okay, Mia. It’s all okay.” This is my fault, all mine. I have brought these feelings on too soon, and she is not ready yet, she is not strong enough to take them all at once. I should be worried that the Queen will have my head, but I am too worried that Mia is losing hers as she writhes around in pain and torment.
“No, no” is all she manages to get out before she’s howling again. “He killed me, he killed me.”
Her eyes squeeze tightly shut against the pain that tremors through her body. She tries to pull away, shaking her head to clear the memories, to clear the pain. And God, I feel it all. Every emotion is flooding me, killing me softly and pulling me apart at the same time. I hold her steady, clinging to her for both our sakes. Because I’m losing it, completely losing it. I was so selfish tonight, and now look what I have done: I have forced her past upon her when she was not ready for it. This is a moment that all vampires have to go through at some point, but my poor Mia should not be going through it yet; she’s not strong enough.
“Mia.” I choke out her name and she sobs loudly but looks up at me, her eyes so full of angst that it tears me apart. “Mia, let me hold you.” My voice is like gravel as I try to hold myself together.
Her tender face looks up at me, blood-red tears still pouring from her eyes. She’s still so innocent to it all, so new to this life—even after all this time. She has a lifetime to learn it, and I have a lifetime to watch her overcome this and grow. She will be fierce, and deadly. I see the power running through her. She will be so strong, she will dominate this world.
Her hand comes up and strokes my cheek, feeling the bristles of my day-old beard under her fingertips. Her eyes travel around me, staring at my aura, something that only she sees. Like a magician she sees something truly magical, she sees inside people—their love, their hate, their fears, she sees it all. And now she sees mine.
There is no hiding from it now, no hiding from her now as I let go of all my pretences and open up to her.
Her brow pinches as she watches the invisible colours travelling around me, her face of such beauty that I can’t even hold up my charade for her—for this game that we play. She gasps, her tears slowing their wicked assault on her. Her hand runs across my jaw, our eyes lock, and I turn my head to kiss her hand, grateful that she is—for now, at least—calm and not screaming in agony.
I kiss it tenderly, barely breathing on her skin, watching as her pupils dilate upon the small contact. Her cheeks redden and I feel her desire blossoming. What kind of relationship could this ever be? One that is built on grief and lies. One where each partner can either see or feel the other’s feelings and emotions? I kiss her hand again, the touch of her skin under my lips urging me on. And with each new contact comes a more fevered feeling that I can’t ignore. As I kiss her palm, she calms down further until her pain is no more and her desire is everything.
I can’t stop this now, not even if I really wanted to. And I don’t. I’ve craved this, craved her for so long. Since before she was this beautiful creature that stands in front of me.
I cup her face in my hands, and without looking away lean down and slowly press my lips to hers, the taste of her tears on her lips, and now on mine.
And my God, she tastes like heaven.
Like heaven. Like peaches and cream. And strawberries and sugar. And I can’t stop the growl that rattles my chest as I take her mouth in mine hungrily. Part of me is on edge waiting for her to pull back, to stop me, to ask me to leave her—but I can feel her, feel her grief ebbing away and being replaced with something else. A feeling that we’ve both been having for months now. A feeling that we’ve both been fighting against. But no more.
My hands hesitantly move down her body, caressing each curve until they reach her waist, where I grip her tightly and pull her body flush against me, dominating and making promises of what’s to come. She murmurs in between kisses, and anxiety laps at my consciousness that she wants me to stop. I pull away and look at her, gasping on unneeded breaths, choking on air I no longer need but can’t stop breathing. I climb off the bed, needing space and air, and to clear my head before I really mess things up, but I can’t move away from her completely. As if compelled, my hands stay on her smooth skin, holding her firmly.
She stares at me with eyes full of lust and innocence. Hungry and ready to be devoured, she licks her lips, and I see her fangs are out. I didn’t even sense them come out. What the hell is happening to me?
She looks as bewildered as I am by the moment, and yet so utterly ready to lose herself once more. My hands are still on her waist, my thumb tracing circles on her skin.
Her lips part and my name is whispered out of them. “Evan?” She poses it as a question, but really it’s a statement—as if by saying my name, she is securing herself in this moment with me, fully accepting her previous life and accepting this new one. “Evan.” She says it again, and if my heart could beat, it would blast a hole in my chest.
“Say it again.” My words coming out rough with lust.
“Evan.” A smile plays at the very edge of her mouth.
“Again,” I order, feeling dizzy with want.
Her smile widens. “Evan.”
I scoop her up in one swift motion, pulling her against my chest and lowering my face to hers, parting her pouty little mouth with my tongue and kissing her until my chest is rumbling with desire.
I lower her head to my pillow, her dark hair fanning out across it, and I smile at the sight. She belongs here, with me. I climb up her body, my hands roving across her hips and breasts until they find her face. I stroke a thumb across her bottom lip and then tilt her face to one side before lowering my face into the small crook of her neck and kissing along it until I reach her ear lobe, where I bite gently, my fangs dropping down.
She writhes underneath me, groaning against the side of my face as I lick back down her throat. She pushes my face against her breasts and I touch them over her damp clothes, massaging gently until I can’t stand it anymore and I need to see them, to free them from their prison. I sit up, and she opens her eyes to stare up at me.
I grip her top, pulling it up and over her head and revealing her glorious chest to me. Her hands are already on my belt, unbuckling it with unfathomable speed. She lets the belt hang on either side of me and unbuttons my jeans, sliding the zipper down, and then looks up at me expectantly with a hungry gleam in her eyes.
I finger the thin material of her pants. “These need to come off, now.”
She raises an eyebrow at me, almost like a dare, and I smile and begin to tear the material from bottom to top away from her body, slowly revealing more and more soft, milky skin, until they are torn away completely and I peel the rags from her skin. I lean down and kiss her flat stomach and circle my tongue around her belly button, eliciting a giggle from her that is innocent and erotic all in the same breath. I look up at her through my lashes as I move up her body, and upon finding her breasts I twirl my tongue over them, taking her nipple into my mouth and biting down gently, yet hard enough to make her gasp. She stares back at me, a seductive smile replacing a previously painful expression. All thoughts of that pain and that torment are gone, washed away by delicate kisses across her abdomen and promises of pleasure to come.
I grasp her hips, holding her in place as I graze the top of each full breast with a kiss before finally finding her mouth again and planting another hard kiss upon it.
“Mine,” I breathe into her mouth. “Mine.”
She nods beneath me and I reach down between us, pushing jeans and pants and clothes out of the way until it is just me and her. Mia and I. Two vampires absorbed in one another. I reach up and pull her to sitting, and then lift her on to my lap. She lowers herself on to me, gasping at the slow intrusion on her new body.
“Evan.” She says my name and fire blossoms in my chest.
“Mine,” I repeat as I push into her again, slowly rocking her body against me. Finding a rhythm for us is easy, as if we were made for this moment. She moves against me, our eyes locked on to each other. She gasps and wraps her arms tighter around me, her face burying into my neck. The smell of her hair against my body is too much: it sets my world alight, burning everything in its midst, and I push harder, holding her closer.
Her hands move behind us and she pulls my hair free from its band, running her gentle fingers through the rough strands before finally—blissfully—her sharp teeth graze my neck.
“Do it,” I beg, knowing the urge to draw blood at heightened times is impossible to ignore, but the feeling of being drank from heightens my pleasure also. “Do it, Mia.”
She bites down on me, her fangs sinking into my neck, and then she’s sucking, drinking, and swallowing my blood. I shiver, feeling part of me leave and enter her, a part of my mind being even more connected to this woman that I burn for.
I push harder, lowering her on to her back, and slide again between her soft thighs, my body hovering over hers like a giant. She grips my shoulders, nails digging in harshly and drawing more blood, and she opens her mouth wide, swallowing it as it slowly rains down on her from the wounds that she has inflicted. And still I press into her, holding her legs apart with my own, and pressing further, pushing harder, wanting to be deeper inside her, needing more from her. Wanting to give her more.
I look down at her as the flames build inside us, heat engulfing the bed as I move us both towards an end neither are ready for, but neither willing to stop. Her head tilts back, blood trailing down from her full lips, along her chin, and collecting at the dip in her throat, and I tilt my face to it and lap it up. She cries out as I grip her hips, thrusting into her harder, a rumble building in my own chest. I stare down at her, feeling that I am losing her—that she’s slipping from me as she closes her eyes.
“Mia,” I breathe out. I clutch one hand to the iron bedstead and one to her hip, rubbing it up her body, over her bare breasts, and up to the blood in her throat. I dip my thumb into it and then trail it back up to her mouth.
She sucks greedily on it, humming with pleasure, but her eyes stay squeezed closed. I cup her face in my hand and lift her head to look at me, needing to see her eyes. She keeps them closed, even as she pushes me backwards until I am on my back and she is astride me in one simple, fluid movement.
She rocks against me, gasping as heat builds between us, sparks crackling above our heads, and I stare in wide-eyed shock and awe as she cries out again and flames burst above us, and she moves faster on me, her hips thrusting to a different rhythm.
“Mia,” I yell out, not wanting this to end but not having the strength to stop her, because my body in hers feels so good. Her pace picks up, her hips moving harder on me, and I gasp, clutching her body to mine as she screams out loudly.
The flames above us build, the crackling and popping so loud I can hardly think, but then I don’t want to think, I don’t want this feeling to ever go. Even as I know that something isn’t quite right. Even as I see the flames catching at the curtains that surround my small window. Even as the ceiling above us turns black and the paint bubbles.
I can’t stop her. Don’t want to stop her. And then she thrusts her hips forwards and cries out, her nails dragging down my chest and drawing blood, and I roar with pleasure as my body shudders in ecstasy, and she flops forwards on to my chest, her body spent and exhausted.
We lie there, both dazed by the orgasm that ripped through us. My hand travels to her hair, smoothing the black locks away from her face. Her eyes are still closed, and I feel a pain in my stomach—the need to see her eyes, to connect with her again.
“Mia,” I whisper, her name sounding rough on my lips.
Her tongue darts out and she slowly licks away some of the blood that she drew. The scratch marks are already healed. She hums with pleasure again and licks some more, her tongue tracing soft patterns across my chest.