True Mate

by Patricia Logan

  He laughed, touching my lower belly and sliding his hand lower into my thatch. “No. I am very much not descended from kings. My mother was a lady in a prominent family and my father was landed gentry. He was eventually knighted along with my uncle when they saved the life of a nobleman who was a favorite of the king.”

  “Who was the King of England in your time?”

  “Edward the first. You might know him as Longshanks,” Vincent replied.

  “Yes, I’ve heard of him. So, he knighted your father, and then you were given land?”

  “We had some land of our own before that but yes, we were granted more lands afterward. We were considered a prominent family.”

  “So…Lasco? What’s the origin of that?”

  Vincent smiled. “Why so curious?” He slid his hand lower, taking my heavy cock into his hand as he began stroking me. The more he stroked, tightening his fist around my cock, the less I cared about his past…his long ago past.

  “I just…” I stopped and leaned into him as I began to pant. “It doesn’t matter.” I dropped my gaze to Vincent’s lips. They were plump and perfect. I kissed him, caging him in my arms once again as I rolled him onto his back. The bed was warm and so was he. I was still amazed at this, seeing as he was no longer living but he’d said that he could adjust his temperature to match my own. I really shouldn’t question how things like this worked. He was a magical creature after all. Right now, he was hot, still stroking me as I rose up over him and straddled his hips.

  I needed him inside me and not for the first time, I wanted his fangs in me as well. I leaned over and kissed him again, taking his own cock in hand. Vincent let out a low growl and it sounded almost inhuman. I smiled against his lips, realizing where my thoughts had strayed. He wasn’t human at all, was he? I deepened the kiss, opening my mouth and shoving my tongue inside, and he greeted it with his own, tangling the two together in a decadent dance.

  Vincent groaned, and all I could think was how desperately I wanted him. I sucked at his tongue, and he reciprocated the action, sweeping his tongue against mine. The taste of this man was unlike any other man I’d ever kissed. His lips were full and unbearably soft. His body was hard. The more I stroked the steel rod in my hand, the harder he stroked me. I was going to get off if he kept it up, and I really wanted him to be inside me in all ways when that happened.

  I broke the kiss, my chest heaving as I stared down at him. “I want you inside me when you bite me this time.”

  He looked perplexed for a moment, as though he wasn’t sure he’d heard me right. Clearly, he had because he tore his gaze from my eyes and fixed it on the beating pulse on the side of my neck. He stared at it, and as he did, I was almost certain his cock got harder, thicker in my hold. My fingers could barely encircle the club that it was, but I was giving it my all. When he finally looked back into my eyes, I could read the utter, total lust there.

  “I shouldn’t bite you again so soon. It’s too soon. You need to have time to replenish,” he gasped.

  “I want it, Vincent. If I didn’t want it, I wouldn’t offer. Besides, you said it wouldn’t be a problem if I took the vitamins, right? I have been taking them.”

  He nodded. “Yes, but I’ve never had anyone who…” His words trailed off.

  “Anyone who what? Let you feed from them more than once? Offered themselves to you shamelessly?” I needed to know. “Over the centuries you must have had other lovers who fed you over and over.”

  He pulled hard on my cock, making me gasp. When his other hand reached for my balls and began squeezing them gently, rolling them in their sac, I couldn’t do anything other than concentrate on not coming all over his chest. I thought if I did, one of two things would happen. I’d shoot an arc of come only to have it land in a giant splat in his open mouth or I’d simply die. I decided dying wasn’t an option.

  “I’ve had other lovers but not long term. Maybe a day or two,” he admitted. “But never anyone I wanted to keep.”

  “And me…you want to keep me, don’t you?” I panted harder. “And, God, you have to stop that and take me inside or I’m going to make a very big mess all over you.”

  Vincent grinned. “You want me inside you?”

  “Yes. I want you inside me, and I want you to bite me.”

  He moved at what felt like light speed then. He let go of my cock and rolled me onto my back, reaching under the pillow and taking out the squeeze bottle of lube he seemed to always have in hand. Ever since having to settle for a cruet of olive oil that first time, he’d had lube on hand. I didn’t ask where he’d gotten it in the small town of Prosper Woods. I somehow doubted Sid’s general store carried it. I didn’t want to think about it. I knew he’d stashed several bottles around his house since then, but I still chuckled when he held up the bottle to show it to me.

  “Spread your legs,” he demanded.

  Just like that, I snapped out of the playfulness and did as I was instructed. He was all serious intent now. I bent my knees, putting my feet on the bed, then spread my legs so he’d have access to my ass. He’d have better entry if I rolled onto my knees, but I loved facing him, watching his eyes as he fucked me. I loved it every time he made love to me but when he fucked me and bit me at the same time, it was amazing. My adrenaline spiked, and I could feel my heart beginning to pound as I both dreaded and craved the way he would strike the side of my neck. I was surprised when he smiled in a very sexy way and moved off me, holding my eye contact, and lowering himself until he was positioned between my thighs with his mouth at groin level.

  “Aren’t you going to bite me?” I gasped, hearing how needy and disappointed I sounded.

  “Patience, Romeo.” Something about the way my name came out of him on a low singsong made me swallow hard. I watched him pop the lid of the lube and squirt some onto his fingers before tossing the bottle away to parts unknown. He was still smiling at me which had me gasping with need. As he pressed a finger into my hole, breaching it with only the tip, I practically bowed in two, coming up off the bed as he teased me relentlessly. I reached down for my own cock, circling the shaft as he stared at me. When he smiled this time, he looked like the very devil.

  His fangs descended with a hiss, and I gasped. His finger sank deep, twisting inside me as I tried to relax. It was a near impossible task. When he added a second finger, I debated whether to start begging. I jacked my cock hard, and he used his free hand to hold my legs open as he slowly tunneled in and out of me with both fingers, twisting each time he sank in and dragging them along my insides as he pulled back out. I was so close to coming, I could barely hold back, yet something about the way he was looking at me made me hold back.

  “There’s a very juicy artery right here.” He dragged a finger over a spot on my inner thigh, and as he watched me, I noticed the way magic seemed to twirl in his dark pupils. I was captivated by them.

  “Please…bite me already!” I begged.

  He smiled for only a moment, and then leaned back only a fraction before…

  Vincent struck.

  His fangs sank into my thigh and as has happened every time the vampire fed from me, the initial penetration of inch long fangs was agony. It lasted only a second…not even long enough for me to lose my erection. Instead, Vincent retracted his fangs and began to suck.

  I blew out a shaky breath, only realizing at that moment that I’d been holding it in my lungs. It hurt more than I could put into thoughts when he struck but once he began sucking, everything changed. Perhaps it was the lust that ran between us or it was just because I was falling head over heels for this man. He seemed to need me and my blood on such a basic level. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to the why of it. I was only beginning to become accustomed to how goddamned good it felt when he drank from me. It felt incredible as it always did.

  If it were possible, my cock had grown even harder. I was moments away from giving up my load. When his reaching, searching, twisting fingers suddenly brushed over the knot of nerves in
side me, I lost my mind. My orgasm slammed into me and I shot high onto my own chest. Over and over like waves, my climax crashed over me; while Vincent continued to suck, swallowing down my blood so that his body would be nourished. When he finally lifted his mouth, blood dripped down his chin. Come gathered in little puddles all over my torso, tangling in the hair on my chest, and I could no longer breathe.

  He leaned back down and lapped at the tiny holes on the inside of my thigh, and I watched, fascinated by the ritual. It was the first time I’d seen him do this because every other time he’d fed from me, he’d chosen my neck. I almost chuckled, wondering whether he picked out veins, like I decided on light or dark meat at Thanksgiving. I reached down and tangled my fingers in his hair, making him lift his head. When he smiled at me, there were no trace of fangs or anything scary inside his beautiful mouth. I returned his smile and tugged on his hair.

  “Come up here and let me suck you off. I can’t wait to taste you, Vincent.”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” he remarked as he sat back on his heels, his dick hard and thick with the head poking out through the retracted foreskin.

  The sweet tip was leaking, and I reached for his hips as he straddled me and then hovered over my mouth, bracing his hands on either side of my face. I broke eye contact with him as I opened my mouth and took him inside, swallowing as much of his length as I could. Vincent Lasco was not a small man, so it took effort, especially at this angle, but I gave it my all. I’d never been thrown out of bed for my blowjob skills.

  As it turned out, I needn’t have worried. He gave only four short thrusts into my mouth when he let out a howl and emptied his balls, shooting onto my tongue and to the back of my throat. I swallowed around the hot jets of semen, drinking him down like a rock star and trying not to show that he’d nearly choked me to death with the volume of his spend alone. When he finally finished shuddering and jerking above me, and I’d stopped swallowing, he pulled his cock free of my lips. I watched it slip out of my mouth, slick and still thick. The man was beyond sexy, and I somehow knew I was truly the luckiest creature on earth.

  Chapter Ten

  Prosper Woods Chronicle. Letters to the editor:

  “On the way home from the farmer’s market, I almost ran over two mice wearing stilettos and pushing a cart of teeny weeny corn cobs. Who knew them things came from teeny weeny farmers?” Signed, “Mice girls.”

  Vincent

  I followed Romeo into town just before dawn, determined to talk to Scott about what had happened with the three vampires. I’d missed him at the store the one time I had stopped in, since he wasn’t on the schedule. I’d run into a medium a time or two in the last century. They were a popular sideshow attraction at traveling carnivals in the early part of the twentieth century. I was more familiar with wiccans and witches than I was with mediums. They were serious since they approached their beliefs as a religion rather than what I’d always thought of as theatrics for money.

  It had been interesting to hear that Scott so readily talked to Romeo about himself and his sensitivity to the supernatural world, however, I was suspicious of anyone calling themselves a psychic or medium. What did he have to gain? Was Romeo in his crosshairs somehow? Was he spying for another? Then again, it might be that Scott was simply letting Romeo know he was aware he was a shifter. I wanted to know if Scott had some agenda when it came to my lover. I knew my thoughts could be construed as being overly cautious, but I felt very protective of Romeo even though his magic was stronger in different ways from mine.

  I didn’t think Romeo was half as dangerous as I was, though, he would be if provoked.

  Romeo was a law enforcement officer and before that, he’d been a Marine. Though, we hadn’t talked about it, there was no doubt in my mind that he’d killed before. I was certain he had some sort of specialized training in the Corps. He was too intelligent to have been put to work as a grunt. I would ask Romeo about his own experiences in the service at some point. It might be interesting to see how closely they resembled my own experience of warfare during the crusades.

  He’d no doubt killed men in war, though. I was quite sure, I’d been the one who was more lethal…at the very least, I’d racked up more kills. I felt there was a clear difference between the two men we were. Even before I’d been made vampire, I’d been in service to God whereas Romeo had been in service to his country. Only one of those meant the servant would burn in hell if they failed in their duties. Perhaps I wasn’t giving him enough credit. Or didn’t want to think of him as ruthless.

  I was interested to find out what Scott could decipher about me and if it was all bullshit. After witnessing my mate’s power, I’m certain Romeo didn’t need my protection but hell, there was something about the man that was almost too decent. I worried that he was too kind, and that Scott might somehow influence him in the wrong way. Then again, I was probably a horrible influence on Romeo too.

  For a time, I’d killed for sport at Sir Robert’s never-flagging encouragement. If I wanted to forget all traces of the humanity I’d once possessed, I could make myself do it. I wasn’t sure why. I’d thought a lot about it over the centuries. Most vampires—those who’d not gone completely feral and dark—retained the bulk of the personality features they’d had as humans. The same thing was true not only of personality, but also character.

  My character in life had been fair and charitable, much like my father’s had been. I’d learned kindness from my mother, justice from my father. I’d been taught that being a good servant of the holy church meant making my service the central role in my life. I’d begged to be included when my father and uncle took up arms to go to the Holy Land.

  Little had I understood the horrors good men could commit in the name of God.

  Men, women, children…no one was spared if they refused to bow to the church. I’d seen many a bloodbath in my time. I wanted to find out if Scott knew all these horrible things about me. If he truly was the medium he said he was, he would be able to sense my past and possibly predict my future…Romeo’s future. This would allow me to protect my unicorn. I had already decided on the day’s objective. I was going to find out how Scott could help me help Romeo protect this town or if he was nothing but all talk and no substance—a helper at best or a charlatan at worst.

  Romeo and I pulled into spaces down the block from each other. I waved at him as he got out and smiled at me. He waved back before turning to unlock the door to the sheriff’s station, stepping inside and closing the door.

  As I got out of the Civic, I watched a vintage 1980s Trans Am drive slowly down the street. War’s Low Rider blasted out of the speakers, and I found myself tapping my foot in time to the low familiar beat of the song.

  The Trans Am had faded black paint and the hood was emblazoned with a faded orange, yellow, and red flame. I smiled at the old car, recognizing it as the same model I’d driven decades ago. I’d loved that car—all eight cylinders of gas guzzling, smog belching, driving decadence. I’d driven the car the last time I was in California, before emissions standards in the state changed, before gas pumps were specially fitted, and additives that helped keep the air clean became the norm.

  The Trans Am rolled slowly past me and parked between my car and Romeo’s truck in front of the post office. I admired the car some more. I knew vintage cars like this one were popular with either a younger crowd or older retired people. Kids liked to brag to their buddies how their fathers had passed down their own cars as a legacy or something along those lines. In my day, a legacy was a castle, lands, heirs, and servants. These days, it was an old car. Funny how times changed. I focused on the driver, expecting to see someone perhaps my age or a little older.

  I realized there were two men in the car. The driver slowly turned to look at me, and I was surprised to see an elderly man with snow-white hair. His ice blue eyes were almost shocking in their beauty, and his mouth was stunning as he slowly smiled. He gradually raised a hand and waved. Suddenly, the car lifted off t
he ground and bounced several times in rhythm with the beat of Low Rider. What appeared to be a bobble head bounced on the dashboard and I was almost sure it was a plastic depiction of the Holy mother. I told myself it couldn’t be, and that I was being ridiculous.

  I stood there in shock and finally laughed before waving back. The man nodded and shut off the car. The music instantly ceased, leaving the street silent again. I watched him get out of the car and then slowly shut the creaky old door. He methodically leaned down and locked the car as the second man climbed out holding a carrier for small animals. He was surprisingly tall just like the first man. Also elderly, but he still had a full head of dark brown hair. When he turned to me and smiled, I was stunned to note he had beautiful eyes too. They were best described as a Bahama blue color. He slowly raised his hand and waved, calling out a greeting.

  “Good morning!”

  “Good morning!” I called back, turning on my brightest smile. The sun was barely beginning to crest over the horizon, so I knew I couldn’t stop and talk with the two old timers for long, but I just couldn’t help myself. They were both startlingly beautiful…and incredibly old.

  The white haired one walked slowly around the car, moving at a snail’s pace, making sure he watched the ground as much as he looked up to see where he was going. When he met up with the second man, he took hold of the hand he held out. It was a sweet gesture, but it could have been construed in many ways. I decided then and there that the men were a couple. They most definitely looked like they could be happily joined at the hip.

  They shuffled toward me and as they got closer, I saw that the white haired one was wearing a blue short sleeved shirt with an eagle patch from the United States Postal Service. He wore a name tag that read Jedidiah. Jesus, they walked slow. It took them three whole minutes to cross from their car to where I stood beside my Civic twenty yards away. Jedidiah had to be the slowest mail carrier I’d ever seen. He moved like a sloth. They both did.