Black Sunshine

by Halle, Karina

  My lips part, trying to tell him.

  Please.

  Then he attacks me.

  Tongue on pussy, finding me drenched, head buried between my legs.

  I scream, the sound bouncing off the walls. My orgasm is intense and immediate, my body shaking uncontrollably.

  “Keep going,” Absolon says, his voice rich, and I look at him as Wolf continues to lick me up and down, my body coming and coming, cries spilling from my lips.

  Absolon’s eyes are full of fire, his gaze locked on Wolf’s head between my thighs, watching him eat me out. “Make her come again.”

  Then Absolon brings his eyes to mine, gives me a languid smile, comes over to me so that his mouth is at my ear. He nips my earlobe between his teeth. “You can always pretend it’s me,” he murmurs.

  The feel of his teeth, his hot breath, the lust in his voice, it all pools into my veins, making me come again, regardless of what Wolf is doing.

  “I hate you,” I whisper, voice breaking on another wave of orgasm, just as Absolon pulls back, gazes down at me, expression dark and carnal. All the while Wolf’s tongue plunges inside me, relentless.

  “No you don’t,” Absolon says. “You want to. And you should. But you don’t.”

  He straightens up, watches as Wolf digs his fingers into my hips, his tongue continuing to work at a frenzied pace. I’m coming again and again and it’s still not enough. It’s not enough.

  “You want him to properly fuck you with his cock, or is this good for now?” Absolon asks, his voice tepid, as if he’s bored.

  I cry out through another wave, back arching, limbs shaking. “I thought vampires were territorial,” I manage to say.

  He gives me a quick grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Only when we’re planning to keep you.” He starts toward the door. “Give her whatever she wants, Wolf.”

  The candles go out as he passes by them, smoke filling the air.

  I’m coming again.

  Chapter Eight

  I’m lost in the darkness.

  Turning inward, trying to understand, trying to hold on to any innocence I have left. I’m drowning in it, torn apart, until I’m nothing but a shadow.

  Who am I now?

  What will I become?

  Was I ever really me?

  The darkness begins to fade, dreams turning into curls of black smoke, growing brighter and brighter until…

  I’m awake.

  I open my eyes.

  I’m underwater.

  Staring up at the wavering image of Absolon, who is holding me down.

  Trying to drown me.

  My mouth opens in horror, water entering my lungs, and I start thrashing against him, his hands holding my head and chest below the water and I’m going to die like this, he’s going to drown me.

  I keep fighting and fighting, water splashing over the sides of the tub, and Absolon doesn’t falter. His force remains as strong as ever. Poised and determined.

  To kill me.

  But I won’t let him.

  I fight for moments, then minutes.

  I’m not getting tired.

  I’m not…dying.

  Finally, he lets go of me and I sit straight up out of the water, gasping for air and choking, realizing I’m naked in a bathtub filled with ice cubes. I start to cough, water rushing out of my lungs, trying so hard to breathe, breathe, breathe.

  I steal a horrified glance at Absolon, his black clothing wet, crouched beside the tub like a gargoyle, staring intently at me.

  “Hello,” he says politely, a hint of a smile.

  A growl roars from my throat, and without thinking, I suddenly lunge for him, propelling myself out of the tub, hands around his neck, trying to knock him to the ground.

  But it’s futile.

  My new strength surprises me, but it’s nowhere near enough to match his. He catches hold of my wrists with ease and deftly flips me over until I’m smashed against the tile floor. He pins me down, hands above my head, the weight of his massive body crushing me. I’m acutely aware that I’m completely naked, while he’s completely dressed in black pants and a dress shirt.

  “Easy now, moonshine,” he says to me, his face close. “Your impulsiveness won’t do you any favors.”

  I writhe beneath him, trying to move, and to my surprise I realize he’s turned on; big, thick, long, and hard as steel.

  He gives a delicate sniff, eyes closing briefly. When he opens them, his pupils are massive. “Still in a bit of lust, aren’t you?”

  “You’re the one who’s hard,” I snipe, though my hips involuntarily buck up against him, wanting more.

  God, I hate myself.

  His eyes close again at that, his lips parting, and now I’m fighting the stupid, ridiculous urge to kiss him. I want nothing more than to reach down and unzip his pants, make him fuck me right here on the floor. I didn’t even think he was attracted to me, but I can feel the evidence very clearly.

  “Hard not to be when you’ve got a gorgeous creature naked beneath you,” he says, peering at me. “You women are funny, aren’t you? You think if a man isn’t throwing himself at you, he mustn’t find you attractive. Assume they must be gay.”

  “Are you?”

  “Gay?” he asks, a brow cocked. “Not particularly.” He grins at me. “Aren’t you at all interested in why I had you in that bathtub, or is the lust still ravaging your brain?”

  “You were trying to kill me,” I manage to say.

  “You’re partly right,” he says, adjusting his grip on my wrists. It still feels like he could crush all the bones with a simple twitch. “I wanted to see if you would die. Luckily, you didn’t. You were under there for ten minutes before you came out of it. Didn’t need a single breath.”

  “Came out of what?”

  “I can compel you, on occasion. I get you to do exactly what I say,” he says, voice rich with pride. “You often fight back, prevent it from happening, something other people, even vampires, can’t easily do with me. But sometimes, you’re just so … vulnerable. And so I take advantage.”

  The idea of him controlling me makes me shiver with unease. “What did you make me do?”

  “I got you to take off your clothes. Figured you needed a bath. You were fucked by Wolf for a good two days there. The whole house smelled like sex.”

  I blink at him.

  Two days?

  I was fucked for two days?

  “Then I decided to test you,” he goes on, adjusting his weight on me. He’s still hard. Formidable. Making me ache. “Filled the bathtub with ice, made you get in it. You didn’t even notice. Means your body temperature is adjusting with the change. Then I got you to put your head under the water and hold your breath.”

  I shake my head, feeling the anger roll through me. “You were getting me to kill myself, controlling my mind!”

  “Oh, spare me your theatrics. Soon you’ll be doing the exact same.”

  “I am not like you,” I grit out.

  He cocks his head as he studies me, his pupils getting narrower, the blue returning. The color of periwinkle under frost. “No, I suppose you’re not entirely like me. But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Because we’re getting to the bottom of it all. The bottom of your buried truth.”

  Suddenly, he lets go of me and straightens up, leaning back on his large thighs as they straddle me. “Did you not even notice your body? I sure did.”

  I raise my head, propping myself up on my elbows.

  And nearly scream.

  My tattoos.

  My tattoos are all gone.

  I gasp, my hands running over breasts, my stomach, my arms, my thighs. Gone. All gone. The moon cycle, the sparrows, the ravens, Poe’s words, the ram, Pazuzu, all gone.

  “Oh my god,” I cry out, hands to my mouth, not recognizing my body anymore. The fact that I am buck naked underneath Absolon doesn’t even matter.

  “Come on,” he says tiredly. He gets to his feet, reaches down and grabs me by the forea
rms, lifting me up like I’m made of dust.

  I stand unsteadily on my feet, and he lets go of me, reaching for a white nightgown hanging from the hook. “Put this on,” he says, slipping it over me. He’s not compelling me this time, it’s just that I don’t care anymore.

  I stare numbly at my arms, horrified, in shock.

  What other part of me is next to go?

  My soul?

  “Gone,” I whisper, tears in my ears. “All gone.”

  “Any scars you have picked up during your life are gone, and that includes tattoos,” he says mildly. “Just the way it is.”

  “Just the way it is?” I exclaim. “Those tattoos meant something to me!”

  He gives me a dry look. “Yes, I’m sure that Nine Inch Nails tramp stamp on your lower back was filled with profound meaning.”

  “Fuck you,” I snarl.

  “Swearing at me isn’t going to make them come back. This is part of the change,” he says, sliding his hands in his pockets as he eyes me. “I told you I was once covered in them too. They probably had the same purpose as yours did.”

  “Purpose?”

  “I think it’s time I give you a tour of the house. We’re in the middle of the pause right now. Between the lust and the bloodlust. This is when you can start to learn.”

  I put my face in my hands, shaking my head. “Nothing makes sense anymore.”

  “I can see how it feels that way. Most vampires are aware of what they are from birth. They spend their first twenty-one years waiting for that special day. You, however, were lied to from day one. And not just by anyone. But by witches.”

  Oh my god.

  My hands drop away. “Witches?” I cry out.

  I can’t deal with this now.

  He puts his hand at my elbow and guides me toward the bathroom door, opening it. We step out into the bedroom, lit with scented candles. The curtain is still down, but the window behind it is open, making the flames dance with the breeze. The bed is made, though there are still coils of rope at each corner of the bed. Waiting for me, I guess.

  He leads me over to the curtain, light glinting through the ends as it dances with the breeze, shooting up the room with beams of sunlight. It’s daytime. There’s a world outside. I hear cars and people and life, and it contrasts so savagely with the world that I’ve been living in for who knows how long.

  “Your, shall we say, adoptive parents are witches,” Absolon explains, standing behind me and placing both hands on my shoulders. His hands are warm now, no longer cold, and they immediately make me relax, despite what he’s telling me. “And they recognized something in you, something that made them steal you away. If you were all vampire, they would have let you burn. If you were a half-breed with a regular human, I still think they’d do the same. But the mystery is, why didn’t they kill you? What was it about you that made them keep you around?”

  “I don’t know,” I whisper.

  “You do,” he says. “And please note that I just called your parents witches, and you didn’t even try to protest. You don’t even seem shocked. That says a lot. That says you knew about them deep down. And maybe now you’re realizing how they’ve kept you hidden from others this whole time. Others like me. Others like Atlas Poe.”

  “How?”

  “Your tattoos. I’m guessing they encouraged you?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  “And all the jewelry you were wearing, how much of that was given to you? The black tourmaline? Tempest Stone?”

  I swallow hard. “Most of it.”

  “And your apartment, did you know that the walls are covered in runes too? To hide you?”

  “How do you know that?” I ask sharply.

  “I’ve been in your apartment,” he says, his stare turning darker, never blinking. “You know I have.”

  The uneasiness makes me want to curl over. It’s too much.

  “Your parents,” he goes on, fingers digging into my shoulders, as if to keep me upright, “used spells and protection stones and all the energy they had to hide you from others like me.”

  “But it didn’t work,” I say dully. It feels like I’m still underwater.

  “No. Because they underestimated my resources. Who I am. What I have to work with. You think they would have known, since they’ve met me more than a few times.”

  Now I’m awake. “What?” I say, whirling out of his grasp. “They know you?”

  Absolon nods. “Yes. We aren’t friends. But I have given them some vampires on occasion.”

  I run my hand through my wet hair, my mind exploding again. I walk over to the end of the bed, sit down on it, trying to make it all make sense. “You’ve…given my parents, who are witches, other vampires? Why? For what purpose?”

  “Ah,” he says, gracefully striding over, standing in front of me. “How little you know. You believe in witches, yes?”

  I nod. “I believe they work with energy.”

  “That’s correct, though a basic explanation. Did you know that not all witches are the same? Some deal with earth magic, moon magic, even black magic…others are slayers.”

  “Slayers?” I repeat.

  “Vampire slayers.” He folds his arms across his wide chest, muscles straining against the black material of his shirt. “Surely you’ve seen Buffy.”

  I almost laugh. “Are you kidding me?”

  The corner of his mouth lifts in a quick smile. “I am. On the other hand, that is their job. There’s a whole guild devoted to it. They are born to do what they do, and that’s exclusively to kill us. Creatures like me. Creatures like you.”

  “My parents are vampire slayers…”

  Even though I’m still coming to terms with what a vampire is, that I am one, this still feels a bit…much.

  “In the past we used to call them the mordernes. The killers. But pop culture is so easily intertwined with reality. Started with Bram Stoker and Van Helsing and went from there. But it was always based on something. A group of people with powers whose purpose is to hunt us down and kill us because they decided our kind didn’t deserve to live.”

  “Wait, you said something about a guild,” I mention.

  “Yes. They have an organization. A tribunal. It controls and sanctions who they can kill and when. Your witchy parents, when they killed your vampire ones, weren’t sanctioned to do so. Another reason to keep it all hidden.”

  “Atlas Poe said he was part of a guild.”

  “Yes. That’s the guild. He knew that if the rumors were true, that it would fast be approaching your twenty-first birthday. Probably set out to investigate dozens of couples with children who were turning twenty-one to see if any of them were hidden with magic.”

  “But he found me…” I trail off, remember the darkness in his eyes when he realized I was wearing black tourmaline. Did that tip him off that I was under protection?

  “Perhaps,” Absolon says.

  I glare up at him. “Can you stop reading my mind?”

  He shakes his head. “Would if I could, but when you’re upset, it’s like you want me to.”

  “Well, I don’t.” I sigh, staring down at my bare arms.

  Gone. All gone.

  I’m getting choked up all over again. I have to take in a deep breath to calm my heart.

  “So why didn’t Atlas kill me?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I’m going to assume he wasn’t sanctioned. He’s an investigator. And he probably has his suspicions but no proof that you are the mythical child.”

  I nearly snort. Mythical child. Give me a break. “That’s the second time you’ve called me a myth. What am I really?”

  He runs his slender fingers over his jaw, eyes skirting my body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. For a moment I’m struck by how deeply, impossibly beautiful this man is. It’s dazzling me.

  Focus, I remind myself. I definitely don’t need him to hear that. Would only add to what I’m sure is a massive ego.

  I glance at his eyes, expecting him to be smirking at
me. But his gaze is thoughtful instead.

  “You’re part witch, part vampire,” he says after a moment.

  Okay. Actually, that sits comfortably in me. It might even make sense.

  “Surely that doesn’t make me a myth?” I ask.

  “Vampires and witches are mortal enemies,” he explains. “To have them coupled is very rare.”

  “But not impossible.”

  “No. It’s happened before. Love is love.”

  That almost sounded sentimental coming from him.

  He clears his throat. “But you’re wondering what makes you so special? Other than the fact that every girl your age thinks they’re so damn unique.”

  I can’t help but smile. “I should have drowned in that bathtub and I didn’t. I think that makes me pretty unique.”

  “Careful,” he says, a gleam in his eyes. “Wouldn’t want to add to your massive ego.”

  Oh shit. So he did hear me.

  My cheeks flush and I avert my eyes.

  “What makes you unique,” he goes on, “isn’t that you’re part witch, part vampire. It’s your bloodline. Or what it’s rumored to be.”

  A feeling of uneasiness slinks through me. “What bloodline?”

  “Obviously Hakan wasn’t your real biological father. Alice maybe had an affair with a witch.”

  “You say maybe had an affair.”

  “I don’t think you need to contemplate the alternative.”

  Meaning, that my biological father raped my biological mother.

  “I thought witches were good,” I tell him quietly, a sour taste in my mouth.

  Absolon bursts out laughing, a strong, almost musical laugh that makes the blood in me rush to the surface. “Witches? Good? Lenore, haven’t the fairy tales taught you anything?”

  “But…modern witches. The ones on, like, Instagram, they’re all about healing and light and crystals and happiness…” I want to add that my parents are witches and my parents are good people, but I’m not sure that’s the truth anymore.

  “A phase,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “That’s all. A new age. It’s trendy.”

  “So, if witches are bad…”

  “They aren’t all bad,” he says. “They’re morally gray. And, you know, vampires are too.”