A Night at Tears of Crimson

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A Night at Tears of Crimson Page 23

by Hughes, Michelle


  As his tongued delved into her, she came undone instantly with a force that had her grabbing his head to keep standing. “I hate this,” she cried out even as he brought her over the edge with his tongue again.

  Her words brought out the demon in him and he stood only to grab her hands in his. Pulling her down on the ground he lifted her body, only to lower her onto his shaft. “Show me how much you hate it then,” he demanded as his hands lifted her up and forced her down again. The tightness of her silken sheath completed him.

  She rode him with a fury that defied reason, as if she hoped their joining would hurt him as much as she was dying inside. This wasn’t making love, it was pure animalistic sex and the only means to end the fire his body ignited within her. Even as her crimson tears, fell down her cheeks, her fangs elongated. She continued taking his body and with a strength that amazed her, she pulled his head up and sank them deep into his neck.

  He growled as her fangs struck deep and enjoyed the rhythmic stroke of her silken flesh as much as the long, deep, pulls from his neck. His hands grabbed her rounded ass as he lost himself inside her. She released his neck to cry out as she found release simultaneously. The soft stroke of her tongue against the puncture marks had him aroused again almost instantly. With a groan he lifted her off of him. “We should leave this place,” holding out his hand he helped her stand.

  Shaking her head she refused him. “I need to see his home, Gabe,” she was filled with remorse again but couldn’t find it in herself to hate him for what they had done. There was no love in their act of passion and Rafe would always be the only lover she would ever lay with in that capacity.

  “I would want it no other way, Cara,” his hand squeezed hers almost tenderly, as they looked into each other’s eyes, both sharing the same grief. Whether it was the creation between maker and child, or the grief they shared in Rafe’s death, she felt a bond with him that couldn’t be denied.

  “We both need clothing,” he attempted a smile as he led her by hand inside Rafe’s castle.

  She smiled somewhat, feeling awkward that she hadn't even thought about being naked in his presence. She held his hand tightly as they stood in the foyer where the love of her life had once resided. She followed him, taking notice of every beautiful painting, artifact, and piece of furniture wanting to keep it in her memories.

  Walking up the long stairwell, they entered Rafe’s bedroom and for a few moments she couldn’t move at all. Needing to do something to drive away this agony she felt, she forced her feet to move and walked over to the closet. She inhaled deeply as she entered, the scent of him surrounded her. Removing one of his shirts from a hanger, she held it to her face rubbing the soft fabric against her cheek imagining his touch. “Where’s the bathroom?” she asked quietly as the memories threatened to consume her. Glad that Gabe didn’t speak she followed where his finger pointed.

  He found a pair of pants and a polo shirt and took them from the closet, laying them on the bed. The journey back home was one he wasn’t looking forward to and he knew just how many things needed to be attended to. He sat down on the bed as thoughts of his child moved through his memories leaving him feeling hollow inside.

  For the second time in his undeath he wished that he could change places and bring back the people he had once loved. His duty now was to protect Cara he reminded himself of his vow. A blood tear found his cheek and he swiped it away, refusing to allow these emotions to command him.

  She bathed quickly as everything she touched in the shower reminded her of Rafe. Crimson tears mixed with the warm water and she wondered if she would ever be whole again. Washing away the small drops of blood, she knew that feeling sorry for herself would never bring him back. Moving out of the shower, she dried off and rummaged in his drawer for a brush. When she felt like she didn’t look like the walking dead, she walked back out in the bedroom dressed in Rafe’s oversized shirt.

  “Let me grab a quick shower and we will leave,” Gabe quickly moved into the bathroom as he fought to control his own thoughts knowing they would only increase her despair. He turned on the steaming water and allowed it to trickle down his sculpted body. “I will protect her as best as I can brother,” he vowed.

  The slam of a door downstairs startled her and instinctively she screamed out Gabe’s name. Almost instantly he appeared in the room, dripping wet with soap still in his hair. His body moved to a fighting stance and she felt a strange feeling of gratitude that she couldn’t explain.

  “What is it?” his eyes darted around the room looking for the danger he had felt in her fear as she cried out.

  “Someone is in the house,” her fangs descended at the thought of trouble and as the door swung open she prepared to fight. As the door opened she readied herself to attack only to stop and still as every muscle in her body tensed. If she had still possessed a beating heart it would have stopped instantly. Only one word fell from her lips as she stood trembling and her eyes found his beautiful face. “Rafe.”

  Continue the Journey

 

 

 


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