Love is Darkness (A Valerie Dearborn Novel)

by Hanson, Caroline

“Why practical, what does that mean?”

  “The Others are gone. You would have no one to use your powers on, assuming you had power. You are not a full empath, your abilities would most likely be limited. It's dangerous to be an empath, even part empath. Vampires are all that remain, the only species you could affect, and they would not thank you for it.”

  “Except you?”

  His voice was oh-so-neutral when he said, “Except for me.”

  “Why?” she touched his face and his hair, stroked his neck, couldn’t stop touching him as she listened to him talk to her quietly. He held eye contact with her, like he wouldn’t look away if she wouldn’t. forging a bond of some sort, maybe wanting her to know that he was telling the truth.

  “Because I feel very few things. My attraction to you and your response to me…I have been existing for a very long time. Marion was right when she said my existence has become a curse of sorts. I stand on the outside looking in and there, just over the threshold is you. There is much I would give to cross that space.”

  “What happened to the empaths?

  He paused and she tried to feel what he was feeling, straining as though listening for music played far away.

  He’s keeping himself from me.

  “I did nothing to protect your kind. The wolves did. They revered empaths, whereas the vampires feared them like a vengeful God. And the Fey— they had their own issues with empaths. The wolves were decimated and the vampires turned their backs….”

  “Why don't I feel your answer now?”

  “Restraint comes with age child,” he said flippantly.

  No, she needed to know these things, what he felt about the destruction of... her kind. Yeah, that little nugget was gonna come out of the vault for examination later. She was an empath? Did WTF suffice as a response?

  “I can’t tell when you’re lying anymore or what you’re feeling. I want to know.”

  “If I relax my shields so that you can feel the bond, we shall both regret it.” He spoke to her like she was a child.

  “Who are you to make that decision? I need to know. Not just be a pawn.”

  “I will answer your questions and then I must go. Ask.” His voice was implacable and cold.

  What was the point in asking questions when she wouldn’t know if he was lying to her or keeping things from her? Fuck that.

  The anger was overwhelming. She wanted to kill him, stab him, destroy him. Her hand flew, slapping his cheek hard, but he moved and her nails scraped his neck, creating deep red marks on his still soft flesh. He hissed in a breath and looked back at her, a light in his eyes that made her shiver.

  “Will you protect me?” Gasped and husky words.

  His brows drew together as though confused, and he reached a hand up to the scratches, touching them lightly as though they actually hurt.

  “How could I not?” The words were ironic but his emotions came from him, a fierce sincerity followed by desire. “Be careful with that.” His defenses were lowered again, his words almost having an emotional echo that slid through her veins and made her feel weighted.

  Be careful with what? Her nails? Provoking him? His shields went up, the weight went away, that feeling of rightness gone again.

  Her hand went to his jaw then scratched her fingers down his neck, scoring the same place as before. Desire slapped her back, making her gasp at what he felt, like she’d been floating without gravity and was now being squashed under its heavy weight.

  His hands were on her hips, jerking her forward so that she fell towards him, legs spread over him as he settled her on top of him, his eyes level with her own, every long lash delineated, blue eyes so close that she could see his pupils contract slightly.

  “It's very bad for your longevity to try and make a vampire lose control.”

  Someone’s heart was pounding, so loudly that it ricocheted around the room and between them like a live thing. Was his heart beating? Was it hers? Hers as he heard it?

  And then he kissed her, gentle at first, almost hesitant and tender, no response she’d ever attribute to him. His hand came up, cradling her head in his large palm before tilting his head and plunging his tongue into her mouth with desperate urgency.

  Yes.

  Her whole body relaxed, her core settling against him more firmly so that he moaned lightly and twitched her even closer, rocking his hardness deeply against her.

  She gave a small cry of surprise and delight, winding her arms around his neck.

  This was what she needed. Too much was happening: her father, Jack, empath bullshit. But this immediate fulfillment was something she could lose herself in. She could deal with consequences later.

  Abandoning herself to the pleasure she leaned forward, pushing her breasts flat against his chest as his arms clasped behind her then stroked her back and sides. His hands roamed to her thighs, resting on the inside, along the juncture where her thighs met her pelvis. He rubbed this thumbs along that slope in a firm caress that made her wriggle closer to him, showing her what he would do to her when he moved his fingers to the very center of her.

  Still he kissed her, gentle kisses turning into deep hungry strokes of his tongue, but once she started moving against him more urgently, her body restlessly wanting his, the kisses changed, his head tilted again so that he could taste more of her, claim her, mimicking what it would be like when he sank his cock deep into her body. They were both breathing harshly and his hands lifted to her face, cupping her tenderly even as his tongue devoured her.

  His hands swept down her neck, then her chest, grazing her nipples so lightly that she made a noise of frustration. Despite her protest his hands skated lower until they were resting beneath her breasts but not touching them.

  She arched farther into him, trying to put her breasts into his hands, the motion pressing her damp heat against him hard. If he'd been human it would have hurt but he groaned, a sound more animal than man and he did as she wished, his hands cupping her breasts in his palms, his fingers finding her nipples through her sweater and bra.

  Pleasure coursed from her nipples to her center as though he was toying with her there instead. A great sigh of pleasure came from her and he inhaled, taking her breath deep into his body.

  Breaking the kiss, she moved her lips to his jaw and down his neck to where his pulse was beating steadily. She ran her tongue over it and he shuddered beneath her, his hands splayed over her ass, shoving her closer, deeper as he met her from below.

  His breathing mirrored hers, a fine tremor in his hands as they roamed her body restlessly. Her body was tight, swollen and on edge. And there was that duality again, that desire was everything but she didn’t know who it belonged to. Hers or his or the both of them together.

  Her mouth hovered over his neck, most of his body frozen as he waited, still pressing himself against her, almost despite himself. And then she struck, letting her teeth close lightly against the marks on his flesh, before licking him soothingly.

  She sucked on his flesh as though the skin was directly linked to his cock. And fuck, maybe it was.

  His breath had turned ragged, but he groaned and stopped her, making her stand although her legs were shaky and she wasn’t done yet. She felt the loss of his cock against her core like a phantom limb, something she’d never forget and needed to have back.

  She almost fell, gripping his hard bicep as he tucked his thumbs in her underwear and pulled them down her legs, fingers trailing downwards. She stepped out of them and his head was so close to her core that she began to tremble.

  Very slowly, he looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers, maybe reading the desperation on her face. He smiled so cockily, so surely that she didn’t know if she wanted to hit him or kiss him. “Don’t I get to see what fifteen hundred years of experience gets a girl these days?”

  He laughed thickly and stood up, hands on her legs again, caressing firmly up her body until his hands were back on her ass, under her skirt while he stepped backwards to the chair,
pulling her forward again so she straddled him. Her skirt was like a stage curtain between them.

  His heated gaze was focused between her legs like he could will the fabric away, hands roving from her hips to her thighs and her ass, the skirt moving and shifting, almost exposing her but never quite.

  Voice thick with desire, gaze still focused between her legs, hands moving, confidence purring from him, he responded, “What does fifteen hundred years get you?”

  His gaze climbed her body, stroked her breasts, her neck and lips before reaching her eyes. She bit her lip, the teasing, his voice and everything they had already done putting her close to orgasm.

  He made a noise like a growl before answering, “Knowledge, stamina, control. The right touch and the right time, in the right place.” And then his fingers were touching her, stroking so that she writhed on his hand and began to tremble, the orgasm close. The match to her spark. The pressure and stroke of his fingers as perfect as he’d promised.

  She could only half hear him, she was so close to coming.

  “But that’s not the question you should be asking.” His breath teased her ear, voice close and intimate as he kept her on the edge. He knew how close she was, her body writhing, begging him unashamedly, to finish her. “The question is how much passion, lust and desire can a woman stand when a man hasn’t been this…hard…hungry…and desperate, for centuries.” He flicked his index finger across her gently and she came.

  His fingers slid along her slick flesh, coaxing aftershocks from her, making her feel limp…but hungry. Hungry for him to fill her and take her, hungry for his flesh and his blood, even for his gasps of passion. She wanted to devour him. Is that what I want or does he want it?

  She bit his neck and his fingers hesitated for the barest second before he made a noise deep in his throat.

  Her mouth went back to his, letting his tongue fuck her as she knew his cock wanted to. His fingers were still on her, stroking her, rubbing—he was going to make her come again. She began to tremble, feeling the moment of pleasure gathering within her, impossibly soon. He stroked her a little harder, a little faster and she came, the shock of it reverberating throughout her body. She hadn’t known she was one of those women. A multiple orgasm woman.

  She collapsed against him and he eased his hand away from her body.

  He kissed her lips, his whole body taut with arousal. Val kissed his neck again and his hand went to the back of her head, urging her mouth harder against the scratches she had made until she was sucking him harshly, harder than a hicky but not enough to draw blood.

  He was trying to distract himself from what he really wanted, she could feel his desire clearly, as though he was saying the words aloud: I need to be in you. Fuck you. Claim you. Make you mine.

  She reached down and grabbed his hand that was still wet from her body, pulling it between them. His eyes opened and their gazes locked.

  “No.” His voice was rough and strong. Purposeful. She shook her head at him like he was a naughty child trying to deceive her. She brought his fingers closer to his mouth and he didn't stop her.

  He'd stopped breathing. He was holding himself in check, no longer willing to push himself with her. Too close to losing control. He wouldn’t breathe her in, taste her or feel her anymore. He was going to leave. Sanity. That was what he fucking needed. Her fingers were hot on his hand as she brought his wet fingers to his lips.

  “Is this my desire, to have you lick me off your own hand? Or yours?” Please, let it be his, she thought.

  “Mine.” He said, burning frustration making his words ragged.

  She should have been embarrassed by what she was doing and was sure a large part of her would be utterly mortified when this was over but that was a distant buzz in her mind, crowded out by this haze of desire, his urges overwhelming her.

  “Do it. Lick me off of you.”

  “No.” But he licked his lips even as he tried to pull back from her a little. She did it instead, licked his index finger that was still wet with her come then leaned forward and kissed him, her tongue sliding into his mouth, transferring the taste of herself to him.

  She pulled away from him and his eyes were closed, brow furrowed as though in pain or deep concentration. “It's a hold on me. This binds me to you. It’s not a game. Your essence, body and blood, all of it will link us together.” The words were slow and pulled from him, weak sounding.

  Despite the words, his emotions and desire urged her on, negated them, overwhelming her with his need to have her and absorb her. He was worried about being bound to her, but lured to it as well.

  She couldn't think beyond his desire. She felt like a devil and enjoyed it. “You want to be bound to me,” she whispered. “That’s your secret, isn’t it, Lucas? This is what you want more than anything in the entire world. My taste, in you, tying you to me.”

  She still held his hand between them but he pulled it away easily and rubbed his hand along his pants furiously, wiping her off of him.

  His voice was harsh and tightly leashed. “Do not play with me.”

  She felt his desire disappear like swiping an eraser across a chalkboard. Gone.

  “I must go, this is reckless.” He stalked towards the door, the hard bulge of his erection in his slacks drawing her attention.

  It probably wouldn’t have fit anyway.

  “Valerie. This is the peril of an empath, getting swept away by another's emotions. You must guard yourself against everyone.” He shook his head, staring at the floor and pacing.

  Lucas paced?

  “My...want of you is too strong, it could overwhelm you and rebound back to me if we are not careful Valerie. Do you understand what that means? You could act not because you desire something but because another does. You might commit any number of sins only to recoil in horror when the emotion has passed.”

  Was he saying her feelings for him were not real? “So you took advantage of me?” She felt the rise of some sharp emotion in him, it stabbed at her and then was gone, shut down again.

  “If I were a different man you'd be lying under me and screaming my name. Do not underestimate your own desire. It is a testament to my strength that we are conversing at all.”

  “This is why I react to you so strongly, because I'm an empath and you are— what — powerful?”

  He took a moment to answer. “The lust is your own but your reaction to my own desires has grown since I fed you.”

  “For how long?”

  Again he paused as though considering his answer carefully. She wanted to kill him for taking so long. “I am not fully healed from yesterday. In a day or two I will be whole and that should be enough for me to prevent,” he threw her an irritated glance, “this, from happening again.

  Bad Valerie, no more orgasms for you. That’s good, right? Val frowned. “So you think you can block it from me?”

  “I do.”

  She thought of something important, “Does being an empath affect my humanity in anyway? Am I even human?” She felt sick just asking the question. He took a breath and she wondered if he could feel the pain the question caused.

  “You are human. Being an empath has never made a noticeable impact upon humans. They have no susceptibilities to empaths nor empaths to them as far as I am aware. You get no extra strength or powers, no longevity or protection.

  “What do I get? Sounds like a bum gig so far. How do you know for sure that I even am one?”

  “If this were five hundred years ago it would give you safe passage among the Fey, vampires and wolves. You would be sought after and involved in our...politics. But the wolves and Fey are probably gone so your only appeal is to vampires. Young vampires still have emotions thus your impact is limited. The older and more powerful a vampire is the more...interesting you become. Your kind was a moral compass. I've seen an empath kill a vampire from emotions, drive them to suicide. Or inspire them, give them joy and passion. It can be a wondrous thing.”