by Bella, Sarah
Gramma stood inside the High court's candles, just to Drake's right, and clasped their hands in hers, chanting a final time. The pull started in Drake's navel, arching his spine, crushing him toward Penny. His legs shook as the feeling moved through his body, a trembling quake, building and rolling through him.
He felt inside out, his nerves exposed. The trembling-pulling-burn moved down his arms and their joined hands erupted in flames. Penny's mouth dropped open as she watched the flame lick across their skin, burning away the leather strap. The flame evaporated in an instant and Gramma nodded at Drake as she snuck out the door.
"Tha thu mar leth dhiom."
"You are half of me." Penny grinned and unlaced her fingers from his. She flipped her hands over, staring intently at her palms. "Nothing."
"Not a mark."Drake dragged Penny to him with an arm around her waist, fitting her neatly against his chest. "Now I can really say you're my other half."
"You're my only half."Her elation poured into him, filling him with a need to make sure she was always this happy.
He stared at her mouth, parted pink lips, and leaned in, kissing her chastely. Penny moaned and opened her mouth to him, brushing his tongue with hers. He claimed her mouth, pushing her backward until she lay down on the plaid. The empty goblets tinkled across the floor as she shoved them out of her way.
Drake's fingers made their way to the tie of her robe, baring her to him. Her nipples pebbled beneath his touch. He slipped the robe over her shoulders, savoring the feel of smooth skin and taut muscle. Penny hooked a leg around Drake's waist, pulling him down on top of her.
"Hey."
"Hey." He grinned and thrust against her.
"So that kilt…"
"Yeah?"
"Are you, ah, going Scottish underneath?"She waggled an eyebrow.
"Why don't you come find out?"
Her fingers skipped across his body, his arms, his chest, his stomach, finally parting his kilt at his hip and sliding inside. "I found your sword."Her fingers gripped his cock tightly, teasing his flesh.
"Ah ah ah," he gripped her wrist and pulled her from beneath his kilt. "Not so fast."The sash from her robe would work perfectly to suit his needs. He gave it a yank and pulled it free. Holding it between his teeth, he pinned her arms above her head.
"You think so?"He caught the wicked gleam in her eye half a second before her hips bucked, almost unseating him. With one hand, he held her wrists together.
She thrashed and arched beneath him.
Holding one end of the sash in his teeth, he wound it around her wrists, finishing it off with a snug knot.
He took the loose ends and wound them up her arms, crisscrossing until he ran out of sash and tied a final knot. "Shibari traditionally uses rope, but this'll work just fine."
Penny struggled with the binds. "If I can slide them down a little bit–"
"It's still tied around your wrists."He grinned and pushed her arms back above her head. "May as well just leave them there."
Penny experimented with her arms, lifting, twisting and finally lowering them. "I could still get up and run away."The threat was hollow.
"You could. And while it would be fun, think how quickly I'd catch you. We'll play hide and seek someday when you're not all tied up."Satisfied she wasn't going to run, Drake lowered his mouth to her breast. Penny arched beneath him, pressing closer. An arm beneath her back held her in place as he worked her. She smelled faintly of paint and turpentine, but also of the scent of their pleasure.
He explored her body with his mouth, the crevice above her collarbone, the valley between her breasts. His arousal spiked as hers surged through him, twisting in his stomach like a living thing. Goosebumps exploded on his skin, their combined pleasure more than his body could handle.
She lifted her bound wrists over his head, clutching him to her. His mouth moved languidly, covering each inch of skin until he reached her hipbone.
I don't think I can wait long to have you. He pushed her arms above her head again, pinning them to the floor.
Then don't.
Her voice in his head was startling, but her legs fell open, cradling him against her hips and he lost himself to sensation.
He shifted his kilt and lined himself up at her opening. The anticipation in his chest doubled and redoubled as his emotions played off hers. He eased inside Penny, relishing the tight grip of her walls on his cock. One slim leg wrapped around his hip, pulling him in deeper. He thrust again, swallowing Penny's moan with his kiss.
Her hips rose up to meet him, matching him thrust for thrust, locking her calves around his. Fragments of Penny's thoughts flitted through his mind, almost too quickly to grasp, so good... too much... almost...
He followed her lead, pushing his thoughts on her, You're mine, now, Penny girl. Mine.
Her guttural cry drowned out the rest of the world, her body milking his orgasm from him. He came in waves, heat and sparks exploding through him. His limbs numbed and he rolled to the side, cradling Penny against him. Her chest heaved against him and he hurried to untie her wrists, carefully massaging the reddened marks left behind.
As his heart slowed, so did her breathing.
"This 'hearing each other's thoughts' business is going to take some getting used to."
"It is."He nodded, sitting up to face her.
"So forever?"
"More or less."He pulled her into his lap.
"Wanna make the most of it?"
"Always."He threaded their fingers together and led her up the stairs to her waiting bed.
BONDED BY BLOOD
CHAPTER 1
The perils of vampyre life are few. We're raised hearing of the dangers of sunlight, of the Blood Sickness. I never fed from a donor more than once. Think of it as the vampyre equivalent of safe sex – safe feeding. What no one tells you is that finding your blood mate can be just as dangerous as walking out into the sun.
Toward the end of the nineteenth century, humans became secure in the knowledge that vampyres were the stuff of legends. As a result, they stopped putting stones on graves to try to keep the undead from rising. And it was a good damn thing they had because I really had no desire to be stuck in a tomb after a visit.
I stopped using them almost completely once I discovered I didn't have to bury myself underground, that merely staying completely out of the sunlight during the day was good enough to keep me alive.
Undead.
Whatever.
They never suspected the truth, that vampyres are born and not made, or the fact that none of their stories were true, aside from the blood drinking, sun shriveling ones. There was no way to kill a vampyre, not if you were human.
Eventually, I found my way onto a boat crossing the Atlantic and settled in the wild Midwest of what would one day become America. Civilization eventually grew around me and I eased my way into human society. As the humans struggled, I thrived.
Still, more than a century after humans believed our kind to be myth, few vampyres were integrating into society. We maintained our distance, creating our own secluded communities and keeping to the shadows. They did, anyhow. By the late 1900's, I'd discovered the benefits to becoming part of human society. As a result, mine was one of only a few shops in the area with shutters; because my shop did well with both humans and vampyres. I was one of the few owners who could afford them.
In the sweltering heat of July in the Midwest, I cranked the A/C as low as it would go to counteract the heat generated by the metal shutters during the day. I heard the hum of the air conditioner silence as it shut off, comfort having been reached. I glanced around my little shop, quickly scanning the customers within. The typical mix of single females and over-the-hill couples filled the store, all trying to reignite the romance in their marriage.
My shop had gone through a dozen incarnations over the past forty years. Themes and styles to go with trends and fads. The current trend was what I jokingly called 'edgy-princess-chic'. Zebra print carpet and hot pi
nk walls were trimmed with shiny baubles and wall sconces.
The front half of the shop was filled with vanilla fun – lubes and lotions, silly card and dice games. I had racks of fur-lined handcuffs, copies of the Kama Sutra and penis shaped candies.
Beyond the midpoint of the aisles, the products took a turn for the kinky. Things that shook, twisted and pinched. Leather toys with strands and tails. The racks were filled with collars and matching cuffs.
The shutters had gone up only an hour previously, indicating night had fallen and the penetrating sun had set, when the door opened and a couple strolled in. The guy I didn't notice, but the girl – and I use the word girl loosely – I noticed immediately. She was gorgeous, with smooth, pale skin and long dark hair waving down her back. Her legs looked miles long, with thick thighs and shapely hips. Her tits were high and round, just fucking fantastic. She had intelligent looking violet eyes. Her only flaw was the guy attached to her neck.
I could see the old puncture marks on both of them, like track marks on a drug user.
Talk about a mood killer.
But still, when they walked into the shop, I took notice. And when she walked passed my dinky little checkout stand, I'll admit, the swing of her ass made my head turn. But then, it's always been the curvy girls who got me going.
I had always known that boys were of no interest to me. And it wasn't just the whole matriarchy thing our society had going on. There was a role reversal amongst vampyres as compared to the human hierarchy. The women went out and worked and the men stayed home and tended house. Men raised our young, and women were the primary breadwinners. They were viewed as weaker – and it was true, at least partly.
Physically, female vampyres were significantly stronger than men were. I never understood the science of it, but it had something to do with our blood. Feeding from a female vampyre was much more beneficial than feeding from a male was, too. You gained more power, more strength, everything.
I bided my time waiting for her, watching her walk up and down the aisles. I watched her sample lube flavors and hold the lingerie up to her chest for his approval. Long minutes passed while I checked out the other three customers in the store until we were alone, the three of us.
When she and her boy toy walked up to my counter with a double dong, I raised my eyebrow. Usually girls who came in with their boyfriend, husband or donor left with a basket full of vibrating things, not something they would use to penetrate their lover. The double dong gave me more questions than answers. Was the other end for him?A girlfriend?Was she into threesomes?Could I get in on that action?
I could picture her, splayed on her back on my checkout counter, writhing while I fucked her with that toy. While I made her boyfriend watch.
He set the dong and a tube of cherry flavored lube on the counter.
I suppressed a shudder. The return to reality and the lube were both nasty – more cough syrup than cherry.
I could tell she was the quiet type. She didn't seem to have much to say unless he asked her a direct question. She met my look with one of her own, cocking the edge of her mouth up in a know-it-all smirk.
Fuck if I didn't want to see those pretty lips wrapped around my tit.
He's temporary, her eyes said.
I know.
I didn't say a word – couldn't say a word, just slipped my card in the bag with the dong, knowing she'd take it out before they got home. Hopefully, it'd get tucked safely away in her cleavage, not lost in the bottom of the duffle bag she appeared to call a purse.
I'm not the kind of girl who waits around. Normally, I would have propositioned her then and there; I would have blatantly made my desire clear. I don't like to wait around and let my next meal come to me whenever it's ready. I like to feed when I see something that gets the juices flowing.
This girl was different; while the urge to feed existed, the immediacy wasn't. I was desperate to have her, but not desperate to have her now. I just didn't need to feed now – there would be plenty of time for that. I knew she was mine, meant for me.
I didn't hear from her right away. I really thought I would. I didn't hear from her the first weekend, or the second one either. By the time a month had gone by, I decided I was wasting my time thinking about her when I masturbated.
I hadn't fed since she came into the shop. The imagined feel of her warm blood easing down my throat put me off feeding from any others. It would be decadent; I knew it. I would wait for it.
In the meantime, I started to show signs of needing to feed. Flat, lank hair wouldn't cooperate and my skin had grown dull. Even my eyes looked glassy. My fangs were quick to punch out and slow to retract– my body's way of telling me to put them in something. Even the humans would notice if I didn't feed soon.
I was pining, I realized, for her. No other would compare. A connection had been made in the seconds we'd spent together. I knew I had met my blood mate. Funny, until I experienced it, I thought they were just legend, like a soul mate, something people said they had in one another to justify their sappy attachment.
To think one person existed, whose blood was so perfect for you, someone whose blood was literally created to serve you was intimidating. It was scary and intense. And a turn on. The power in knowing my blood was the only blood she'd ever need, that no one would service her like I could – I drank that potential down.
Of course, none of that would matter if she never came back. That was when I started to wish I'd paid more attention to the stories.
I pulled bits and pieces of our lore from the recesses of my mind, praying for some cohesive bit of information. Something worthwhile must have stuck with me. Was it possible for a blood mating to go only one way? Could she not need me as desperately as I needed her?
I started to envision the rest of my life alone and realized that without her, the rest of my life would be much shorter than I'd ever anticipated. I'd walk into the dawn before I wallowed for the rest of my existence and I'd be lucky to last another two months without feeding.
CHAPTER 2
Six weeks after she left my shop with the tool, she walked back in without him. I was in the furthest corner of the shop, straightening the demo floggers when the bell above the door chimed, alerting me that I had a customer. I called out, letting them know where I was, and a second later I heard the click-click of heels on the tile floor.
The hair on the back of my neck stood and I knew it was her long before I saw her. Somehow, I thought I should have known it was more her style to ditch the guy and come back, rather than calling me while they were still servicing each other.
She was every bit as succulent as she'd been the first time I saw her – thick and ripe in all the right places, dressed to impress with mouthwatering perfection. The old marks on her neck were faded nearly to the point of invisibility, gone but not forgotten.
I wouldn't be happy until I'd eradicated him from her memory.
We stared at each other silently for several long minutes. My breathing was harsh to my ears; I felt like I'd just run a marathon. My heart raced wildly and I willed it to slow.
"I broke up with what's his name. He wasn't getting the job done. The boys never do."
"No?"Of course they wouldn't get the job done. No one would ever get the job done but me. I couldn't wait to get the job done, so to speak.
Neither of us moved, standing stock still, rooted to the floor. I couldn't bring myself to go to her. I'd waited weeks.
Weeks.
She could come the rest of the way.
She shook her head and bit her lip, perfect teeth sinking into plump flesh. Her tits strained against the flimsy tank top she wore; the way they bounced when she walked pulled my fangs from their sockets and I had to taste one. My tongue ran along the sharp edge of my teeth, anticipating the sweet taste of her in my mouth.
"You feel it too?The pull?The bond?" The purse hanging from her shoulder looked heavy and she let it suddenly drop to the ground. She shoved it off to the side of the aisle with h
er foot, not sparing it a second glance.
Without a word, I walked to the front of the shop and flipped the open sign to closed, but didn't bother with the lock. I leaned casually against the glass wall at the front of the store and when she looked at me questioningly, I smiled back.
"No one ever comes in this time of night anyway."I winked. "Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke."
Her eyes grew dark and I started to question my judgment. I'd been so sure I was the hunter, the predator, but the look in her eyes was lethal. I cackled madly and bolted for the aisle to her left. Knowing the layout of the store would definitely be to my advantage – one I'd be using differently than I had planned.
Knowing it would only take her a minute tops to find me, I headed straight for the back of the store. One of the many benefits to our kind: our tracking ability. It was like sonar, or GPS. We just knew how to find what we wanted. And she was after me.
"I don't even know your name,"I called over my shoulder as I raced for the swings.
"Edana."
"Fitting, maybe I'll call you 'firecracker'. I'm Caoimhe," I yelled. My heart resumed its frantic pace, pounding in my ears so loudly I almost couldn't hear her coming. She crashed heavily into my back just before I made it to my destination. I went sprawling onto my stomach with her on top of me.
We slammed to the floor and skidded into one of the displays. Purple dildos rained over the top of us as I kicked my way free.
"I haven't fed from a female in nine days," she panted against my skin.
Her fangs skimmed down the back of my shoulder and she inhaled deeply. "I like working for it."
"So the donor you were with wasn't an exclusive thing?"
"Not so much."
"I haven't fed in six weeks. I've wanted to taste you since you walked into my shop with the donor. I'm not going to wait much longer."Sex and blood lust are so intermingled within our race. One seldom feeds without fucking. Or fucks without feeding. The urges are so similar, so visceral and instinctual, it's difficult to separate one from the other.
