by Kiki Howell
“Natalya.” He gently gripped her chin with his fingertips, and lifted her face so she had no choice, but to stare into his eyes. They were clear now, a light hazel, with no sign of bloodlust, and filled with a tenderness that made her throat ache. “You’re trying to make this something it isn’t, as if it were out of my control. As if becoming a Nequam has taken away my ability to know my own body. It has changed me, but I still have enough human in me to know when I want a woman. And I want you, Natalya. And I didn’t use any power to seduce you last night. You were just as much a part of what happened, as I was. You weren’t powerless, or at my mercy.”
Natalya sighed, and pushed him away. “Do you? I mean, do you know your own body? Can you really say you’re in control of how you feel? That you didn’t use your powers to seduce me?”
His eyes flashed, though they remained human in color, and he slid an arm around her waist, pressing her up against the wall. “Do I look like a man who is out of control? Do I feel like one?” He pushed himself against her hip, and she gasped. Beneath the cloth of his breeches, she felt him, hot and hard. Slowly, he pressed himself against her, his hand sliding down to cup her ass, pulling her forward.
“And did you feel out of control last night, Natalya?” He leaned forward, face close to hers. “I mean, at first. During...” A whispered laugh escaped him. “During was a different story. But you wanted me just as much as I wanted you. No trickery involved.”
She wanted to answer him, but only a moan escaped her lips, and she found herself moving against him, her hips undulating, shifting, until she was pinned to the wall by his body, until he was pressing himself against the softness of her belly, the curve of her thighs, the fullness of her breasts. The breath caught in her throat, as he pressed harder, each movement both a reminder of what had happened between them, and a promise of what was to come.
He lowered his lips, and caught hers in a gentle kiss, one that curled her toes and sent warmth rushing through every inch of her skin. His lips were warm and inviting, and he brushed them back and forth over hers, coaxing her into responding. She slid her hands up to cup either side of his jaw, loving the way his stubble teased her fingers, as she kissed him back, slipping her tongue between his lips.
She smiled, as he groaned against her mouth, then gasped as he pushed up the skirt of her dress. His fingers found bare skin, and he dug his fingers into her ass. With one smooth movement, he lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his lean hips.
He tasted her lips, her mouth, before he began to devour her with the same fervor that a starving man devoured his first meal. Little sounds escaped her, as he tangled his tongue with hers. The heat and hardness of his erection, now firmly pressed between hers, barely concealed by the thin fabric of his breeches, was unmistakable and impossible to ignore. It throbbed and pounded against her flesh, insistent, arousing, erotic. She cursed the fabric that came between them, suddenly aching to tear at the lacings of his breeches. She struggled against him, and he was forced to set her feet on the floor.
With a growl, he pulled his mouth away from hers. “You wanted me last night, Natalya. You can’t tell me you want any less today. I know I want more. Much more. I want all of you.”
She looked into his face, and could not deny that he spoke the truth, her truth. She wanted him, as she’d wanted no man before. She cupped his face in her hands, eyes taking in every inch of his face.
“Yes, Caine. I want you.”
Her hands dropped to the lacings on his breeches, fingers impatient as she undid the ties. And then he was there, in her hand, the skin of him as soft as silk. Silk over a core of steel. Her body shuddered, her knees going weak, as she slid her hand over him, felt him move at her touch, his hips thrusting forward. A low moan came from his lips, and she smiled. It was power, and pleasure, and lust, and everything else she’d ever wanted. And it was all hers.
“Well, pardon me for interrupting.”
Natalya jerked her head up, looking over Caine’s shoulder. At the door stood Aranda, one of the Seethe Mistress’s ladies-in-waiting. She wore a coy smile, but Natalya saw the hungry, voyeuristic look in the girl’s eyes. Aranda ran her tongue over her lips, eyes traveling over Caine, and Natalya.
“You really should keep your door locked, Natalya. Never know who might come for a visit.”
“Who the hell are you?” Caine snarled, struggling with the laces of his breeches. He turned, shielding Natalya from the woman who stood in the doorway.
“It’s all right, Caine.” Natalya peered over his shoulder. “She’s from the Seethe.” She stepped around Caine, fixing the girl with an acid gaze.
“Although, Aranda, it would have been more prudent—not to mention courteous—for you to stand outside, and knock.”
Aranda laughed, a sharp brittle sound, tossing her head, her long, blonde hair rippling over her shoulders. “Our Mistress told me to check on your charge. She said that you were caring for an invalid, but from what I’ve seen, he’s far from incapacitated. Your method of care must be working rather well, Natalya. I think he looks like he has enough energy for two.” Aranda took a seductive step forward, hips swaying, the skirts of her dress swishing across the floor. “I’m willing to help with his care, if you need any help.”
It was Natalya’s turn to step in front of Caine. “I don’t believe that our Mistress asked you to perform a physical examination.”
Aranda gave her only a cursory glance before returning her attention to Caine. “I suppose you’re right—I’ll satisfy myself with just a look.” Her gaze lingered on Caine’s face before sliding down his body, obviously enjoying what she saw. Natalya’s brows drew down as Aranda’s pink tongue slid once more along her lower lip. God, if the woman stayed any longer, she’d be overcome with passion right there in Natalya’s own home. Enough was enough.
Natalya rolled her eyes. “If that is all the Mistress sent you here for, you are free to go.”
Aranda pulled her gaze away from Caine, the piercing blue eyes finally meeting Natalya’s. “So anxious to get rid of me, Natalya? I suppose I can’t blame you, now that I see your new Nequam. I can see why Gabriel is in such turmoil. I’ll admit, I’m a bit jealous myself, but for far different reasons.” She flashed a lascivious smile at Caine.
Natalya’s hands clenched at her side. To slap the girl would be utterly satisfying, although the action was out of the question. “In any case, the Mistress told me that should he be recovered—and it’s obvious he is—your presence is requested in her personal dining room at midnight.”
Natalya bit her lip to keep from wincing. She felt Caine tense behind her, heard the intake of his breath, as he prepared to speak. It was inevitable the Mistress would want to meet Caine, but with all the distractions of the past few days, telling Caine about the audience had slipped her mind more than once. She hurried on, before he could ask the question she knew was on his lips.
“You may tell the Mistress we will be there,” Natalya said. “Please be sure to send her my good wishes.” The words were a not-so-subtle cue for Aranda to leave. And for Natalya to explain to Caine what this new request would bring.
“I will be sure to do so.” Aranda curtsied deeply, her hair brushing the floor. She lifted her head, exposing the length of her pale throat, and a good deal of the tops of her round breasts. Her large eyes met Caine’s. Natalya could not imagine a more blatant invitation. Then Aranda spoke.
“Natalya seems to have a problem with sharing, so unfortunately I’ll have to keep my hands off you. But should you ever get tired of her, feel free to come find me.” She rose, and blew him a kiss, before melting into the darkness.
“Well.” Natalya stepped forward, closing the door, deliberately turning the lock. She heard Caine moving behind her, and she turned to him. His look was equal measures of perplexed, and frustrated. A smile tugged at her lips, but she bit it back. This wasn’t really the time for humor, and she felt a pang in her heart. This was all new to him, all strange and vastly
overwhelming.
“What the hell was that all about?”
“That was Aranda, first lady-in-waiting to our Seethe Mistress. Mistress has decided it’s time she sees you. I meant to tell you, or at least warn you this would happen.”
She crossed the room to Caine. “It’s not going to be that bad. Mistress Mirella can be, shall I say, intense. But she’s fair. You’ll have nothing to fear.”
Caine pulled her close, nuzzling her neck. “Do we have time to finish what we started?” His nuzzling grew more insistent. His hands rose, cupping her breasts. She sighed, then covered his hands with hers.
“I’m afraid not. We need to leave now in order not to be late. Being late to Mistress’s request is a sin worse than, well, almost anything.”
He lifted his head, and her heart broke a little. His face was flushed with arousal, and she knew deep inside it was for her, it wasn’t trickery or magic or any of his latent powers coming into force. It was his desire for her, pure and simple. For an instant, she wanted to throw caution to the wind, pull him down, and have him take her right there on the floor.
But she pushed him away. “I’m sorry, but no.” Repeating the words didn’t make them any more pleasant. He looked at her briefly, eyes clouded with an unreadable emotion, before he pulled away.
“If this Seethe Mistress is more important, then I’ll change and we can be off.”
She watched him walk away and sighed. Nothing was easy with Caine. For every step forward, it seemed they took another two back.
“IT’S ABOUT TIME YOU’VE come to see me, Natalya. I was beginning to wonder where you’d gotten to these days.”
“My humble apology, Mistress.” Natalya’s voice was low, her eyes lowered, fixed, as his were, on some spot on the sumptuous carpet beneath them. The two of them were kneeling, a gesture of supplication that Caine wasn’t comfortable with, but Natalya had insisted. There was a long pause. The hair on the back of Caine’s neck rose. Displeasing the Seethe Mistress was one thing, but displaying the vulnerable nape of his neck to her was another. He itched to stand, to be able to see this Mistress who instilled such incredible fear in Natalya.
“Rise, my children.” Mistress Mirella’s silken voice floated toward them. Caine fairly jumped to his feet, belatedly offering Natalya his arm. She rose gracefully, and they faced Mirella’s throne. The vampire sat on a carved chair, a small table at her side holding an assortment of objects.
“I can see why you wanted him, Natalya. Why you felt you needed to keep him hidden away in your little corner of the world, all for yourself,” Mirella fairly purred. She touched her forefinger to her lower lip, her dark eyes gleaming.
“He is certainly pleasing to the eye. Such a healthy flush to his skin.” Her tongue slipped out, and she ran it slowly across her upper lip. A tingle ran over Caine’s skin. It felt as if the carnal look in her eyes would ignite him, set his clothes to fire, and singe his entire body, his very soul.
“So, Caine, how are you adjusting to your new life?” Mirella’s eyes rested on him, then seemed to look inside him. The very air in the room changed, an electric current running through it, and him. He was suddenly conscious of the Mistress’s smooth pale skin, set off to perfection by the deep, blood-red satin of her dress. The round tops of her breasts rose and fell with each breath she took, pushing against the low-cut neck of her dress, and he found it difficult to draw his eyes upward the scant distance to her face. For a moment, he envisioned tearing her dress away, ripping the satin, burying his face between those breasts, and inhaling her scent, ravishing her with his mouth, his teeth...
With a violent shake of his head, he forced his eyes up to Mirella’s. And then he knew, in his heart, in his mind, with every fiber of his being. She was seducing him, using the powers of her mind to control him and his thoughts, his body, his emotions. He blinked, and with almost a physical sensation of pain, he wrenched the images of her naked body from his mind.
Mirella made a small noise, her finely arched brows drawing together just slightly. Then something shifted in the glittering depths of her eyes. The connection was broken, Caine knew, the control she’d had gone. Confusion, fleeting, crossed her face, then a look of blazing red fury flashed in her eyes. Fear stole up Caine’s spine, and he drew a sharp breath, expecting a tirade at the least, or possibly a beheading.
But then, as quickly as a summer storm, it all passed, and her face again resumed its calm, regal expression. It felt as if an eternity had passed before he remembered she’d asked him a question.
“Well enough,” he responded. “Natalya has helped me adjust to many things.”
“Such as? Don’t spare the details, child.”
“Hunting, sustenance...drinking the blood of my kills.” He wondered if she would call him child again.
“Animal or...human?” Mirella’s eyes narrowed for a moment. Something vital seemed to hang in the balance.
“Animal.” It wasn’t a lie, but it was an incomplete truth. He sensed Natalya tense alongside him, but she did not speak.
The memory of sinking his fangs into Natalya’s tender flesh surfaced, the sweetness of her blood, the satiety he’d felt after feeding, the heat that had flooded his body. A sudden craving for that blood washed through him and he almost staggered with hunger.
The Seethe Mistress was watching him intently. Then she laughed. It was as unpleasant to his ears as the sound of shattered glass.
“I see you haven’t quite managed to subdue your hunger yet,” she remarked dryly, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. “That will come with time and patience. And you have nothing but time, now. Being a Nequam grants you a long, long life. Not quite immortality, but decidedly a longer life than a mere human.”
His mind reeled for a moment. Natalya hadn’t spoken about this, about immortality, or how long he could expect to live. It was a revelation, but one that was quickly interrupted, as the Mistress continued speaking.
“You are fortunate that Natalya is taking such remarkable, and shall we say personal, care of you.” Mirella waved her bejeweled fingers, a knowing smile on her face. Then she straightened, her tone growing brusque, intense. “What other changes have you undergone, besides drinking blood?”
“I can withstand the sun for brief periods, but my skin still burns. My senses are sharp – smell, hearing, sight. I can run silently...”
“That is all to be expected.” She waved her hand again, and he caught a flash of impatience in her eyes. “Do you have any other abilities? Other powers that have come to the surface?”
He shook his head. “Not that I know of.” Another flash of impatience, another slight frown from the Mistress. Caine wondered exactly what she wanted of him. There was nothing more he could say. He couldn’t imagine she wanted to know about his dalliances with Natalya. Or, he imagined, she would, but he wasn’t going to take that path.
“My physician will examine you now.” Her tone brooked no argument, but Caine opened his mouth anyway. It was intrusive, and frankly unnecessary, and he wanted to refuse, but there was movement at his side, the soft but insistent touch of Natalya’s hand on his arm.
Mistress Mirella reached for a small bell on the table beside her, the tinkling sound filling the space where his objection would have been heard.
A door opened behind the throne. A tall, gaunt man entered the room, silently gliding across the floor. He had to be the palest individual Caine had ever seen, his almost translucent skin covering the only visible parts of the vampire, his shaved head and long, narrow hands. He possessed narrow slits for eyes, but those eyes were completely devoid of even the basest of emotions.
“Come.” He extended one skeletal hand, pointing back toward the door. Caine looked to Natalya, but she only gave him the briefest shake of her head, before dropping her eyes. There was no recourse, but for him to follow the sepulchral vampire.
Caine had no expectations. Healers were expensive, and he had never had the need for one in his life. The healer from hi
s village had visited his family only once, to help ease the pain of his grandmother as she passed from this life to the next, and the cost had been dear.
The physician set him at tasks, both physical and mental. The physical tasks increased in difficulty, testing his strength and endurance, his agility and speed. He relished most of them, exuberantly completing each. Until the tasks grew harder, more challenging, and he began to fail. The physician watched with a dispassionate interest, silent but for terse instructions.
The mental tasks, however, were taxing, and soon Caine grew frustrated. He persevered, working through each puzzle or question put before him. The physician seemed more interested in this portion of the examination, making notes, more frequently making impatient noises, as Caine struggled.
Another small eternity seemed to pass before he was brought back before the Seethe Mistress. His teeth were clenched, and there was a slight pain throbbing at his temples. He felt less vampire, the human side of him, with all his weakness and frailties, coming to the fore. He was exhausted.
“Well, Caine, you seem to have survived.” He felt her eyes on him, as he walked to his place beside Natalya and even though he was fully dressed, he felt naked under her gaze.
He stood beside Natalya again. Her hand brushed against his in silent comfort. He briefly wondered what the conversation had been while he’d been gone. The physician took his place beside Mirella, a single sheet of parchment held in his hand.
Mirella took the parchment. She cocked her head, a smile playing about her mouth, as she silently read. Finally, she set the sheet on the table beside her. She lifted her head, favoring Caine with a wide smile.
“It seems that everything is in order with you. Your powers and abilities are...interesting, considering your age, and the injuries you sustained. My decree is you should stay with Natalya. At least until you gain some control over your needs...and desires.”
