Tempting Eternity

by Angela Colsin

  The sight had him eager to give her even more.

  “Do you like it this way, Isadora?”

  She tried to answer, but only let a weak moan of pleasure. Combined with her pounding heart, the sound was like listening to a symphony.

  Still, when she jerked with a spasm rolling through her body, he slowed down, unwilling to take her to the edge again so quickly.

  And Isadora immediately protested.

  “No! I was—”

  “Close,” he supplied knowingly, leaning down to add against her ear, “but I want it to last this time, sweet fae, to enjoy how good you feel.”

  A shudder passed through her at his words, her hands slipping down until her nails dug into his ass as if desperate to make him move faster.

  But he resisted, slowly driving deep again and again.

  “Do you like how I feel inside you?”

  “Y-yes! I love it!”

  Kissing her neck with a loud groan, he promised, “Now that I know I can have you in my life, I'm going to give you every reason to stay.”

  During the statement, he slipped a hand between her legs to find her swollen clit and tease it with light circles. As a result, she clenched him between her legs with a loud whimper, and he didn't stop until she bucked, exclaiming, “You already have! You're making me love this, vampire!”

  His heart fluttered at the declaration with a single, impulsive thought emerging. Just as you're making me love you.

  He nearly spoke the words aloud, but stopped himself at the last moment with a low groan, unable to tell if the sentiment was merely a result of the passion they shared, or if it carried weight. But ultimately, it didn't matter—he wanted to love Isadora, to have her close and provide anything she desired.

  Because she was providing for him in ways he hadn't even known he'd needed.

  He clutched her tight at the thought, burying his face in the crook of her neck, continuing his measured thrusts with a possessive growl of pleasure. But though what followed was pure bliss, the instinctive notion that something was missing between them persisted.

  The thought put a scowl on his face. Initially, it seemed as if his instincts were clamoring for sex, but he and Isadora were as close as two people could ever get in a physical sense, and the sensation hadn't dwindled.

  So did that mean he craved her love as much as her body?

  Mathias didn't dismiss the possibility, coveting her heart as fiercely as he wanted her in his life. But not even the thought of having it eased the strange lack he sensed—and it was incredibly frustrating. How could I not be satisfied? Isadora's here, and we have an actual chance. So what am I missing?

  Unable to figure it out, he sat back on his knees with a low growl, clutching his lover's hips in a tight hold before possessively pounding between her legs.

  Isadora cried his name, her back arching and breasts bouncing with each thrust. But though she seemed to enjoy his aggressive movements, she frowned up at him with the breathless, desperate words, “Mathias, I ca—can't last! Not like this … !”

  Though her phrases were broken, he understood her meaning. He'd wanted to draw this out slowly, but she couldn't hold on, was fighting not to come in the effort of pleasing him—and the thought drove away whatever rational thought he had left.

  Growling, he fucked her hard, relishing the sound of her disbelieving cry as the bed creaked in protest. Her fingers clawed the mattress, body seizing up as she tried to resist her orgasm, begging the entire while.

  But he persisted, driving deep and hard until she came for him in a hot, wet rush.

  Combined with the slick contractions around his cock, his own release quickly erupted, back arching as he slammed home with a shout of her name. Thankfully, in those moments, he was satisfied, his enjoyment heightened by his lover's cries as she thrashed against the bed. Watching her come for him, her brow tightly knit as if in pleasure so exquisite it was painful, was better than expected—and his expectations were sky high.

  His own orgasm left him taking ragged breaths, collapsing over her as she reached for him with the whimpered words, “I-I'm sorry, I just couldn't—”

  “No,” he interrupted, “I wanted you to come.”

  Still panting, their gazes locked for a brief moment before they both moved, mouths meeting in a carnal kiss that left everything else forgotten.

  Their hands caressed and groped as he rolled onto his back to rest with his lover at his side, heartened by the way she clung to him in the aftermath of their lovemaking. The affectionate behavior suggested she'd waited to find a suitable mate for quite a while, perhaps centuries.

  Still, for as curious a creature as Isadora was, he had no doubts tonight was as much about discovery for her as it was about being with him.

  The notion only deepened his growing feelings for her—as well his frustration. Isadora's adventurous nature was refreshing, her enthusiasm infectious. For the first time in ages he was eager to learn what tomorrow would bring instead of finding only disenchantment in the normal order of things.

  His spirited lover had inadvertently reminded him that there was still wonder in the world, intrigue and excitement, making the future seem bright indeed.

  So why was he still being plagued by a sense of uncertain lack?

  It was almost as if there was a step he'd yet to take which they both needed, but he had no clue what it could've been. Perhaps it concerned some matter they needed to address before building a life together was possible. If so, he wasn't surprised it'd slipped his mind—there were so many issues he didn't know where to start.

  The biggest was the fact that living in the Cardinal Citadel with Isadora wasn't possible. Of course, protecting her from other vampires would be easy, but he wasn't attached to her hip, and the longer she stayed in the fortress, the greater the chances of another attack became.

  And one day, a vampire would catch her alone … .

  So departing was the only viable option, and though it wouldn't be easy to leave the Citadel, as his gaze locked on the fae drifting off to sleep in his arms, he knew it would be worthwhile.

  He’d spent countless days lying in bed wondering if he’d ever have someone to share his home with. But there were other places, and as the warmth of his lover’s body seeped into him, her content, trusting expression twisting his heart, he knew he'd trade everything he owned to keep things just this way.

  For that reason, he decided not to remove the binding bracelet still tied around his wrist. Though he had no craving for her blood at present, the strange lack he still felt was too worrisome to ignore, and he wasn't taking risks.

  Dozing off with the thoughts in mind, he slept sporadically throughout the course of the day. Every so often, Isadora would shift against him, inadvertently drawing him from sleep, and he was too stunned to find her in his bed each time it happened to immediately drift off again.

  But once he did, memories surfaced of events from long ago, of battles waged in Sutrelle, visits made to Terra in search of the Grand Priestess, and even his blooding at Artair’s hands. Such memories always manifested without variation, each event recalled precisely as it’d happened.

  But this time, a woman’s voice came with them, vaguely distant, and to indistinct to remember once he woke. Yet her message was crystal clear.

  Soon, Mathias. We'll meet again soon … .

  — THIRTY —

  Isadora had never slept so contentedly without being connected directly to the earth.

  After discovering physical pleasure for the first time, she'd unwittingly passed out, completely sated— and surprised. For so many years, the reason mates enjoyed making love eluded her, and while the experience she'd shared with Mathias was a definite eye opener, waking in his arms was even more enjoyable.

  Eyes cracking open to the warmth of his chest pressed against her cheek and a large arm draped over her back, she felt cherished, not to mention safe. Beneath the blankets, one of his thick thighs was wedged between hers, and she couldn't b
ring herself to move.

  Was this a glimpse of the future? Of the contentment they could have? If so, she wanted to reach out and grab it with both hands—particularly when Mathias let a snore that came out as a snort.

  Giggling at the sound, Isadora lifted her head to look up at the sleeping vampire, his lips slightly parted and dark hair mussed against the pillows, strands sticking up in wild disarray. Smirking, she reached up to straighten it out with gentle strokes, though the movement still disturbed his sleep, his head turning before those silver eyes cracked open to peer at her groggily.

  “Isadora? Did I wake you?”

  “No, and I didn't mean to wake you up, either.”

  “It's fine,” he murmured, drawing his hands across her back. “I've been in and out all day.”

  “Really? Why?”

  The question curled his lips into a handsome smile, his gaze locking on her with the reply, “Every time I woke to find you here, I was too stunned to quickly go back to sleep.”

  Something about the way he spoke had heat blooming in her cheeks, specifically in recalling everything they'd done the previous night. But despite her blush, a new surge of desire rushed through her, making her wonder if the craving for physical contact ever really ended.

  If not, at least her vampire seemed just as insatiable, dragging her up to kiss her neck before murmuring, “I love that scent.”

  The way her body drew across his made it nearly impossible to focus on the statement. Yet she heard herself asking breathlessly, “What scent?”

  “Your blush thickens the scent of your blood, and your arousal.”

  “Oh!” Her heart fluttered at the thought, which also reminded her of a matter she wasn't used to considering, but didn't hesitate to ask over.

  “Then, are you … hungry?”

  “No, actually. After taking so much of your blood last night, I don't think I'll need more for at least another day.”

  Somehow, that answer evoked mixed feelings. On one hand, it was good to know he was so well fed, but on the other, she'd actually enjoyed giving him blood, and wouldn't mind providing more.

  It seemed strange, a sentiment he clearly shared in remarking, “It's surprising. I thought your scent would always tempt me beyond reason, but now that I've had your blood, something in me is … content. At least for now.”

  Smiling, she tilted her head and remarked, “I guess we won't need that bracelet anymore then.”

  With a thoughtful glint in his silver eyes, Mathias lifted his wrist to regard the item. But instead of removing it, he returned, “Perhaps not, but I'd like to continue wearing it.”

  Uncertain, Isadora's lips pursed. “Why?”

  “Better safe than sorry,” he answered with a shrug. “I'm content for now, but when I need blood later, I may lose control and take it without warning.”

  Still holding his gaze, she supposed that made enough sense. If he lost control, he might cause her pain with his next bite, and she'd have no way to stop him. Yet such precautions still seemed … extreme. Their night together had proven pretty conclusively that even if he couldn't reign in his urges, he'd be unable to take more than a few gulps of her blood without drawing away.

  So ultimately, she was in no danger, and though it never hurt to play things safe, his insistence on wearing the bracelet was bothersome. Not only did it suggest the vampire lacked trust in himself, it also implied a lack of faith in their growing connection.

  But perhaps he only needed time to adjust and realize that what they had was truly natural despite how extraordinary it seemed. So she decided not to push him into removing it.

  Still, such paranoia could cause a problem if left unchecked. I also hope I don't use the word Arizona at random anytime soon.

  “I guess that's true,” she started in response. “No sense taking needless risks.”

  As if glad to have her agreement, a small smile curved his lips, gaze sweeping over her face with a reverence suggesting he was unwilling to harm her for any reason.

  Proving his thoughts were centered on the topic, he next asked, “You're not sore, are you?”

  “Sore?” Confused by his meaning, she reached to touch the puncture wounds in her neck, finding them mostly healed and confirmed, “No, I'm fine.”

  Questionably, the comment made him smile. “That's good to hear, but I was actually referring to last night.”

  When her brows furrowed, he added more directly, “I didn't hurt you, did I?”

  “Oh! That … ,” she remarked, giggling softly before shaking her head. “Not really, and if you had, I would've told you when it happened.”

  “Of that I have no doubts,” he admitted while pressing his arms into the mattress to push himself up against the pillows.

  Isadora shifted to accommodate him, drawing her legs over his lap before tugging the blankets up around them—and it seemed so surreal. If someone told her a few weeks ago that she'd soon be in the bed of an ancient vampire, and all she'd found there was pleasure beyond compare, she would've asked what they were smoking.

  Yet here she was, resting comfortably against the warmth of his body as he drew his fingers across her cheek and murmured, “I simply worried I'd gone too far.”

  “Too far?” She smirked, admitting, “Considering how frustrated I've been since you kindled these desires, I'm not sure we went far enough.”

  For some reason, he tensed in response to her statement, his gaze heating as he groaned, “You're going to drive me mad, Isadora.”

  Her eyes widened. “What'd I do?”

  “Just imagine I'd told you the same thing,” he suggested.

  Thinking it over, she quickly realized the idea of Mathias needing her to the point of causing frustration was indeed maddening. All she would've wanted was to ease her mate's desires, and considering the ways she could do so had her heart skipping a beat.

  So his point was clear, and she bit her lip, whispering, “Sorry.”

  With a warm smile that melted her heart, he leaned in until their lips gently brushed in a kiss before murmuring, “Don't apologize. I'm looking forward to showing you more of what you desire.”

  His tone drew shivers through her body, so deep and sensual her head spun. There was also no denying her own eagerness for the same, though it didn't quite seem like the right time to engage in another round.

  Still tired after their previous encounter, she hoped to feed from the earth first if only to ensure there were no interruptions due to fatigue. That aside, in casting her gaze about the large bedchamber and its elaborate décor, she found her desire to know more about this vampire and his past was just as profound as her interest in learning more about sex.

  So she admitted, “I’m looking forward to that, too. But first, I was wondering if I could ask you some things I’ve been curious about.”

  “Of course.”

  Nodding, she inquired, “Were you born in Sutrelle?”

  If her question seemed out of place, he didn’t mention it in answering, “No, I was born in Egypt, but the oracles brought me here when I was still a baby.”

  Oracles? “Do you mean the ones who worshiped Kalara?” At his nod, she canted her head. “Why would they take you from your family? Oh! Were you an orphan?”

  Her question must've amused him because he smiled and shrugged. “I could've been, but I was told my human mother was sickly, and when the oracle informed her of my potential, she decided her child would have a better life in Sutrelle and gave me up.”

  That didn't sound so unusual—what ailing parent wouldn’t want to ensure the well being of their child? Still, it was strange that Mathias spoke of his move to Sutrelle as if it were nothing more than hearsay instead of fact.

  Of course, his lack of faith in Kalara's existence likely caused him to question his past when there was nothing more than an oracle’s testimony to rely on. These events happened five thousand years ago, after all, leaving no way of obtaining birth records or tracking down anyone who might provide insight
.

  So she didn’t question the matter further, and asked instead, “What do you mean she said you had potential? Potential for what?”

  “For being blooded,” he explained.

  “Blooded? Oh! You mean turned into a vampire.”

  “Yes, though that wasn't a word back then. We simply called vampires the blooded, and mortals here respected them as a protective force.”

  Nodding, she suggested, “And the one who uh … blooded you was the first vampire?”

  Questionably, the mention of his sire put a sour look on Mathias’ face.

  “Artair, yes.”

  “Artair?” Exceedingly curious, Isadora next inquired, “What was he like?”

  Thoughtfully staring away, the vampire answered, “Devoted to Kalara, arrogant, and after a time, cruel.”

  The description had her staring uncertainly if only because it wasn't precisely what she’d expected to hear. After witnessing Mathias’ concern for Maddox, and knowing the loss of his other children still caused him grief, she’d thought his own sire might’ve been like a father as well.

  But nothing he'd said evoked the image of a caring parent, prompting the question, “Cruel?”

  “Yes. I told you about the Grand Priestess and how she vanished, but what I didn’t say was that her disappearance had a significant impact on several vampires, Artair included. He became obsessed with finding her, or at least discovering what happened, and sent us out to search regularly only to punish us when we returned empty handed, or remarked upon how foolish it was to keep searching.”

  “Punish you how?”

  Muttering under his breath, Mathias shook his head. “Don't ask me that, sweet fae. I'd rather not spend our afternoon discussing his cruelties.”

  Isadora pursed her lips, unable to help her curiosity—or the swell of anger she felt over the thought of Mathias suffering at the hands of his own sire. But though she didn't want to push him into speaking of a topic he was unwilling to discuss, it was impossible not to state, “Okay, but he's obviously no longer around, so what happened to him?”