Exist (Vampire Assassin League Book 30)

by Jackie Ivie

  Oh no.

  No.

  This reaction was not because she was falling for him. No way. Not her. It was because he was so handsome that looking at him was difficult. That had to be the reason. He licked his lips. She glanced to his mouth. There wasn’t a hint of fangs.

  Good.

  ”Parts of you are not,” he finally replied.

  Leah returned her attention to his eyes. He’d turned his head, which put the light fully onto his face. Her heart did another heave. Only this time, it landed in her belly and decided to pound from there.

  She swallowed.

  Tried ignoring it.

  Failed.

  “Parts of you are so tiny, I worry,” he continued. “While others? Ah! I cannot think! There are no words good enough! Your brust is...full. Womanly. Very soft. While your huf and arsebelli—!”

  He twinged deeply within her, hard again. Easily as erect as before. Leah’s body instantly responded without one instruction from her. She squeezed about him. And then she did it again. Anso groaned, and this time his shuddering rocked the bed.

  “You must not do that, lioban.”

  Leah licked her lips. Thought for a moment. Decided to try a deflecting question. Maybe that would work at calming things.

  “Um. This word brust. Is that breast?”

  He sent a breath onto her before nodding.

  “And arsebelli would be...?”

  She left it open-ended. He supplied the word through what sounded like clenched teeth.

  “Buttocks.”

  “And lioban?”

  Her body wasn’t following a thing she requested. If anything, her movements about him got tighter while her squeezing had become continual surges that didn’t obey the slightest command.

  “Please! You do not understand! It is too soon!”

  A sound suspiciously like a sob escaped his lips. But that couldn’t be, because his voice had been harsh. Guttural.

  “What does...lioban mean?”

  She tried deflection again. Even to her own ears she sounded strange. Breathless. Passionate. As if she suffered Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder or something with as much magnitude. A sex siren had taken over her throat and was issuing all kinds of signals, none of them calming. Anso closed his eyes. A look of agony crept across his features. And when he reopened them, the irises weren’t dark anymore. They glowed red. Leah’s eyes widened as they locked gazes.

  “I warn you, lioban. We mustn’t continue this. You must stop.”

  He could say it. She might try to obey. Her body had an entirely different agenda, however.

  “I don’t know how,” she told him.

  He pushed up, shoved his head back, and yelled something that didn’t have words to it. And then he dropped his head and glared down at her. His upper lip was lifted. Definite fang tips were erupting from his canine teeth. They grew long and sharp as she watched. She should have been shocked and horrified. She wasn’t. The emotions were much closer to fascination. A scientific-based interest, overridden by complete allure.

  “You are my weibchan, Leah. I am powerless against this. You must stop me. It is too...soon!”

  “You have fangs,” she told him.

  “Everything on me demands that we...join again! And...again! And as many times...as we can!”

  He punctuated each sentence with a thrust into her, adding bass tones to the room. Each one carried emotion. She recognized some of it because it matched hers. Desperation. Anger. Need. Alarm bells got silenced in her mind. Her breath grew quicker. Harsher. She matched each inhalation he made, and every exhalation. Exactly. Her heart thudded in heavy beats that had a loud echo, as if his heart was in sync. Her belly warmed. Grew hot. Flames sparked to life within her. They licked at her skin, singeing her lower belly, upper thighs. And then they ignited an inferno at her core.

  Leah gripped her legs about him, lifted her hips, and shoved, forcing him deeper within her.

  Anso responded with a snarl and a series of thrusts that sent her head toward the headboard. He opened his mouth wide. This time she didn’t have to wonder what he did to her throat. She knew. She watched him close in, felt the twin pricks as his fangs bit into her, followed by pulses of ecstasy that raced from the spot. The sensations smacked into erogenous zones she didn’t know she possessed. Lighting more fires. Creating more craven needs. She greedily accepted each and every one. Actively participated.

  And thoroughly enjoyed.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Good.

  His mate still slept. She hadn’t awakened while he’d been gone and worried, wondering over his absence. She wouldn’t know he’d donned trousers to forage through his kitchens, pillaging for anything she might find edible. He’d tried both pantries. Failed both times. He’d settled on bringing her a carafe of cold water. It probably wasn’t enough, and she’d think it tasted horrible. He’d look farther afield once night fell again. He knew what she needed - nourishment. He also knew she couldn’t get it from him.

  Not for some time.

  It had been too close already.

  He watched Leah for long moments, inhaling each breath in tandem with her. Exhaling them with the same nuance. His heart continually beat within his chest, keeping rhythm with hers. She was on her side, curled up into a small section of the mattress, barely denting the surface. A hand pillowed her cheek.

  He was so favored by the gods!

  None other could have created such an exquisite female! She had a mass of dark brown hair that carried magenta streaks. Her eyelashes were even darker. Thick. Lush. They contrasted vividly against her skin. She’d have looked cherubic, except her cheeks weren’t rosy, her lips carried the barest hint of pink, and the rest of her portrayed a distinct pallor. It was especially noticeable against what was left of the silver-shaded bedding.

  The sheets had been shredded on both sides of Leah. Long rents were the result of where he’d gripped at the mattress. The pillows had also been casualties. They’d been flung aside. One had burst open, showering the floor with feathers. The exquisite embroidered comforter had been another victim of their passion. It rested in a heap on the floor, the silver threads sparkling whenever candlelight hit them.

  He hadn’t changed her.

  He still didn’t know how he’d managed it.

  Her blood was the purest bliss to him. Taking all of it had been a commanding need, reaching the highest physical level he’d ever experienced. He’d come very close to draining her, which was bad enough. Worse, was the fact that he hadn’t replenished it with any of his fluid. Despite how every cell on his body had hated him, he’d pulled from her neck at the last possible moment, while she’d writhed and screamed and shuddered. He’d thrilled to every sign of fulfillment she’d given, while the entire time, he’d held back his own.

  It had been the most supreme act of will Anso had ever exerted.

  He approached the bed now with light steps, although she didn’t stir. He didn’t know how long she’d be in a semi-comatose condition. There wasn’t anyone he could ask without incriminating himself. Anso had always been a leader. He wasn’t born a king. He’d earned the position. And his kingdom had rules. Laws. Regulations. Without them, there was chaos. As king, he’d issued decrees. Enforced edicts. Exacted justice for transgressing. And he hadn’t spared anyone.

  But now that he’d broken a rule, he didn’t know what to do. For the first time in his existence, he felt unsure. And that was a very bad place to be for a warlord.

  Akron, the leader of the Vampire Assassin League would be livid. The rules were there for a reason; inviolate, except under the direst of circumstances. Life blood was not to be drained and replaced with vampiric fluid. No mate was to be changed unless they desired it...and knew the consequences beforehand.

  That wasn’t why Anso had pulled back, however.

  He’d done it because Leah was perfect. And he wanted everything about her to be the same.

  Anso ran a finger along her cheek, barely touching
before he pulled away. Her lips trembled for a moment and then stilled. Thank the gods. She was warmer than the last time he’d checked. He stood, looked toward the ceiling of his chamber, and sent a heavy sigh of relief into the cavernous space.

  He hadn’t known relief was a tangible entity. He knew it now.

  “An...so?”

  His name was the vaguest whisper. He spun and dropped to a knee, placing him close to her level. “My lioban?”

  She frowned slightly. Narrowed her eyes. “I’m still here.”

  She wasn’t questioning it. He answered it anyway. “Yes.”

  “And...you’re still here.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s...worrisome.”

  “You expected me to leave you?” he asked.

  Her frown disappeared. “No. No. It’s not that. It’s—.” She stopped. Licked her lips. Trembled. “I’m...really cold.”

  He snatched the coverlet from the floor and shook it slightly before settling the soft underside of fabric onto her, tucking it along her form. The material skimmed her body. And then he had to choke back an instant pinch of desire. It was unbidden. And intense. His rod stirred against the leather pants, instantly interested. He tightened his gut and held it.

  “This is a beautiful comforter.”

  “Yes.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  “I think France. Fourteenth century.”

  She jerked slightly. “Fourteenth century?”

  “Perhaps fifteenth. I forget.”

  He shrugged, loosening his grip on his body. And then he had to push back a rush of longing that had a physical presence. He’d been accurate when describing how mating felt with her earlier. Despite what might happen, his body craved what only she could give. Again. And again. And as many times as he could.

  “You should use something a little less...costly.”

  “No.”

  She frowned. He scooted closer, scraping his knee on the stone floor. That gained a slight impression of hurt. He could feel such things as minor ache, too? The timing was fortuitous. He used the pain as another bar, caging a sense of yearning that just kept building.

  “Maybe you could elaborate?” she said.

  “What?” He was dealing with a plethora of physical needs and wants and cravings. He didn’t dare voice any of them.

  “You’re wrapping me in a priceless antiquity here.”

  He glanced to the coverlet. Back to her face. “Oh. That.”

  “Yes. That. Why would you do such a thing? Perhaps the better question is, why on earth would I envision it?”

  “It is the lone thing I have...at the moment...worthy of touching you.”

  She looked at him with astonishment for a moment. And then she answered. “Um. Wow.”

  “Perhaps it is you...who should elaborate,” he requested.

  “Oh. Funny. Funny. Ha. Ha,” she replied.

  Anso swallowed. Forced his mind to function. He still didn’t comprehend her meaning. Or tone. He shook his head. “I do not understand.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No.”

  “That figures.”

  “Is the coverlet not to your satisfaction? I can fetch others.”

  “You have more of these?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, why do I bother asking?”

  Anso puzzled her words while she watched him with an unblinking gaze. His heart stuttered, or something equally noticeable. Hers did the same thing. She gasped, her eyes widened, and he nearly bolted onto the mattress to join her. Her struggle to sit stopped him. She was so weak! He was with her, a mass of still-intact pillows in his hand before she had a chance to collapse back down. She didn’t say anything as he lifted her to the headboard, propped the pillows behind her, and resettled the coverlet about her. That was so stupid.

  She was too womanly.

  The yearning wasn’t going away. He trembled more than once, and hoped she wouldn’t note it, or decipher the cause.

  The gods must be laughing at his predicament.

  Anso sat on the edge of the mattress, rocking it slightly.

  “I feel really...weird,” she informed him.

  “You do?”

  “I feel fantastic, and yet, I’m really tired. I mean, look at me. I’m gasping for breath with just this small move. How is that possible? I feel like I’ve had the flu for a month.”

  He couldn’t answer. He hadn’t heard much past the request to look at her. She’d requested the one thing he was trying to avoid. Anso pulled more muscles tight. His canines tingled.

  “I’m really thirsty,” she told him.

  “Oh. Yes. I brought water.”

  He leapt down, grabbed the carafe from the floor and returned. The mattress bounced with his arrival. She was watching him with a wide eyed expression again.

  “You move...really fast. You know that?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m afraid to ask why.”

  “I am afraid of answering,” he admitted.

  She blinked several times. He watched with baited breath, a heart that was hitting his ribcage with painful beats, and a body that wouldn’t obey his slightest command. His rod was pulsing against his trousers with movements she couldn’t fail to see should she look, while his fangs had reached his lower lip. They were going to be noticeable. And soon.

  “You? Afraid?”

  “I am just as surprised as you are,” he told her.

  She laughed. The sound was sweet. Full. And created havoc through his torso. Anso yanked every muscle taut, leaning forward with the effort. Somehow, he got the craving shoved into submission, but it pounded against his restraint, letting him know it wasn’t going to stay there.

  “You are really cute. You know that?”

  “What?”

  “Does that...embarrass you?”

  “Uh...”

  “Crap. It figures. I suppose I should just drink some water, and shut up while I’m ahead. Right?”

  He watched the silver threads sparkle as she moved. Felt the stab of his canines into his lower lip. Shook. The bed moved in accompaniment. And then he heard her gulps, followed by a sound suspiciously like she gagged. He glanced up. She had a horrified look on her face.

  “Where did you get this water? The bottom of a sewer?”

  “Forgive me,” he replied.

  Her eyes went shocked. “You did?”

  “No.” He shook his head.

  “It tastes like—I can’t even being to tell you how awful. Are you sure this is water?” She poured a few drops onto her hand. Looked at in the candlelight. “Looks clean.”

  “It is. I drew it myself from the well.”

  “You need to talk to somebody about your water system then, because this has to be the worst tasting water on the planet.”

  “It is not the water, lioban.”

  “Really? What is it then?”

  “It is your tastes that have changed.”

  “This is getting nonsensical, Anso. Like...I’ve dropped down a rabbit hole or something equally impossible.”

  “This is not a rabbit hole. And you did not drop. I brought you here.”

  “Yeah. I know. We flew. I was there. Remember? You know, I really didn’t want to analyze anything yet, but I suppose you’re going to make me, aren’t you?”

  “What?”

  “I’ve tried convincing myself I’m in a dreamscape here, but that’s starting to wear thin. I don’t even believe it anymore.”

  “You are not dreaming.”

  “Well...it was just a hope, because the other option is pretty bleak.”

  “Is it truly so bad?”

  “I’m having a major psychotic episode, Anso. Okay?”

  He frowned. “A what?”

  “The mind conjures up some pretty heavy stuff sometimes. It’s in the realm of Psychotic Disorder...and we might as well add in accompanying hallucinations, too.”

  His frown deepened. He lowered his chin. “I am confused, my
lioban.”

  ”I’m a clinical psychologist, Anso. Do you know what that is?”

  “No.”

  “I diagnose and treat unseen injuries and illnesses. Those that afflict the mind. I’m really good at figuring out what triggers psychotic episodes in others. I’ve never suffered one. Maybe that’s it. I needed to know what my patients were going through so I could empathize more.”

  “Oh. You are not suffering anything like that, my lioban.”

  “I don’t even know what that word means.”

  “It means love,” he answered.

  She whistled. “Oh. Man. I have really gone over-the-top now. Shot right past Jupiter. I’m on my way to Neptune! You’ve been calling me love? Your love? This entire time?”

  He nodded.

  “And that’s not psychotic to you?”

  “Why would it be?”

  “Oh, come on, Anso. You’re a god among men. You know it. You even told me that’s what your name means! And. Well. Let’s just face it. I might be cute, but I’m a fat chick. Level with me, here.”

  Anger flooded his veins, adding fuel to an already massive fire. He found it difficult not to snarl. “By hella! What is it with you, woman? You are perfection! I have never beheld such beauty! You are never to call yourself that again! You hear me, wiblih? Ever! I will not allow it!”

  “You won’t allow it?

  “No!”

  “What on earth makes you think you have a say?”

  He yelled the answer. Sound reverberated through the room, rattling fake candelabra, spilling several more of them. Lighting flickered and dimmed further. Leah gasped. He knew because he matched it. Anso moved onto his hands and knees. Approached where she was propped against the headboard.

  “L-l-look. Anso? Um. My last boyfriend was just an asshole, and this...is getting a bit deep. I’ll figure out the triggering event sooner or later, and then...well. It’s going to be a hell of a memory for my old age. And...it isn’t like I couldn’t fall for you. Okay? Really fall. Far. And hard. If – of course – you were real. But nobody falls in love...at first sight. It’s a romance trope. Okay?”

  He lifted his upper lip, releasing his canines. He’d sliced skin. He could feel blood droplets as they hit his chin.