“What did she do?” he asked quietly.
“I make this admission for you to see that we are not to blame for the sins of our parents.”
“I know, Lara. I know.”
“Remember that I nearly perished because I helped Max?” He frowned, sure that she was trying to bolster her image in his mind before she divulged a harsh truth. Preparing himself for the worst, he nodded and she whispered, “She killed one of the children in the coven.”
“Mother’s tears,” he breathed, knowing how precious children were to the Vampire race.
They were to all societies, but to the Vampires, who found them hard to conceive, harder still to hold in the womb, such a crime was…
Well, it was unthinkable.
“How did they punish her?”
“They sent her to the sun for that.” She pursed her lips, but he knew the move was to stem the tears that were clogging her throat. “It came as a relief then. She was freed from the burden of what that bastard had done to her. It wasn’t her fault, but we couldn’t risk her. Couldn’t risk her doing something like that again. Even my father, who was her mate, saw that.”
Carefully, somehow knowing the answer without having to ask the question, he queried, “Did he perish with her?”
“Yes,” she choked out.
He’d asked the question hoping she’d say no. Mates chose to die together. Living without another was unbearably painful. But when it came to children, they were supposed to cling on to life for their benefit.
“How old were you?”
“A century old.”
That was why her father would have felt no guilt in leaving her to lead her life without him.
Still, that kind of grief was more than anyone should have to bear.
The chaotic thoughts tumbling through his mind had him reaching forward. Before she knew what hit her, he grabbed a hold of her, plunked her on his lap, and wrapped his arms about her.
She stiffened at first. Surprised by his attack, but when she realized he was doing it out of comfort, she relaxed into his hold. It told him how ashamed she was of her own past. How she’d been persecuted by her mother’s actions in the years since, and that she’d shared this desperate truth with him? That she’d attempted to create a level playing field between them by divulging this secret touched him like nothing else could.
Perhaps only the son of a madman could ever understand just how hard it was to be the daughter of a madwoman.
She pressed her face to his throat, hiding her features from the coffee shop, and he was grateful then, that his usual spot in the café had been taken. They were buried away in the corner where few would see them, where no one would witness her break in composure.
He could feel her tears brushing his throat, and the wetness made him want to weep with her too.
They were broken. Both of them destroyed by what their parents had done.
But now that he knew both their bloodlines were tainted with death, with the blood of the fallen, was it wise to mix them?
Was it not better to keep the two separate, to save the world from whatever their two combined heritages would produce?
And then, she stunned him.
Her teeth raked against his throat, dragging his thoughts away from anything but her. From anything but what she was doing.
He felt the nick of a fang and knew she could bite him. No one would see. No one would know.
The staff would scent blood, but they’d be able to control their reaction.
The question was, would he?
Four
It was unforgivable.
She knew that. But it didn’t stop her from doing it.
She let her fangs pierce the thick skin where neck met shoulder, and she fed.
His blood fizzled through her veins like nothing else she’d ever tasted.
In her years, she’d supped from many daywalkers. Some female, some male. There was no sensuality to the feeding. It was a basic act of survival.
But this? This was completely different.
Beneath her lap, she felt his cock harden and prod her thigh. Between her legs, she felt heat pool and smolder, spreading throughout her body with rippling waves that sent a dizzying array of sensation through her nervous system.
But the taste of him… That astonished her.
He tasted like home. He tasted like everything she’d never known she’d missed. She’d needed.
When Remy had appeared, he’d told her that the only way for a leman and a Dragon mate to know they were bound, was to cross over to the other realm. She had to see the beast, and then, the connection would flourish.
But at that moment, with his blood in her mouth, seeping into tissues that were dry from hunger, she knew.
How could she not?
He groaned, stirring her, jerking her to attention. She pulled back immediately, sealing the puncture wounds with a quick lash of her tongue.
She waited for him to shout. Or to at least storm off in fury.
But he didn’t.
He sat there and did the damnedest thing. He nuzzled into her.
He sank deeper into the seat. Relaxed, calm, just holding her tightly.
The feeding in itself was unusual. But this? After? It was like feeling the sun on her face—alien.
Nightwalkers fed from daywalkers. They were a symbiotic partnership. Daywalkers needed to be blooded, and nightwalkers needed blood. Simple.
Nightwalkers were rare, daywalkers weren’t. The numbers ensured there was always enough sustenance.
She’d never needed to feed from another who wasn’t a daywalker, and her first foray into another kind was more mind-blowing than she could have imagined.
She shuddered against him, feeling his essence nourishing her. The sensuality of the moment hitting her square between the legs.
There was no way to fancy this up.
She wanted him. Jesus, did she want him.
But the way she felt? It was like she’d been revitalized. Like all her fatigue, any and all of her stresses and woes had dissipated with the surge of his blood in her system.
Was this what a human felt like when they smoked pot? Injected crack or heroin?
Still, what she’d done was wrong. So wrong, and on so many levels. He wasn’t her fucking dinner, and after what she’d shared with him, it was even more wrong for her to have taken without invitation. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, expecting his rebuke and tensing up in preparation for his rejection.
“Why?”
“Because I shouldn’t have fed from you.”
“Will the court be angry?”
“No. It’s only the other way around where there’s an issue.” She sucked down a sharp breath. “Kind of hypocritical, I guess.”
“More like definitely hypocritical,” he teased, and it was then she realized he sounded lighter.
Calmer.
He was so serious whenever he came in here. There was something about him that remained dour even if she managed to tease him into a smile or a laugh.
His seriousness should probably have been a turn off, but instead, it was like he was wired into her.
She’d always been one of those women who found a sense of humor attractive. It felt like Georgios had one, but it was buried beneath a thousand tons of grief.
Now that she knew the source, and knew he’d entrusted her with his family history, she felt certain he would relax more around her. Lower his barriers.
It astonished her how much she wanted this.
Remy had told her how this kind of connection only began to appear once she’d met his beast, and yet, Lara knew she was starting to feel it now.
Why else would she keep putting up with his grumpy face? Not moving from her seat and getting back to work only when she’d cheered him up?
She wasn’t a court fucking jester. Making people smile wasn’t a part of her day job, and yet, every smile she earned, every laugh she teased out of him, felt like the biggest achievement of her life.
It could have been frightening. Instead, it felt liberating.
This man was supposed to be hers.
“I want you to take me to the other realm.”
He stiffened beneath her. And not in a good way, either. “I can’t, Lara. Not yet.”
“Why not?” she asked on a soft sigh. “I want to cross realms. I want to become your leman for real.”
He sighed too, and turned his head to the side, only stopping when their foreheads were resting against one another’s. “Give me time.”
The door to the back office opened and a few of the girls chuckled as they stepped into the cafe with large boxes in their hands.
It was the latter half of the nightshift, and the crowd had died down. Only Vampires would come in now, and they came more for the meeting place rather than the beverages.
She didn’t mind. Her coven was large, too large for them to share a dwelling. So this place, her most favorite of cafes, was usually where they all came to hang out and, if needs be, to talk to her.
“What are they doing?” he asked, having pulled away from her to study the boxes in the servers’ hands.
“They’re going to put up Christmas decorations.”
He wrinkled his nose. “The last time I was here, Christmas meant something. It wasn’t just about the gifts.”
She snorted. “So speaks someone who’s never experienced a proper Christmas with dozens of gifts to open.”
He rolled his eyes. “See what I mean? All consumerism.”
“I didn’t realize you were anti-capitalist,” she retorted, tongue-in-cheek, and when a bark of laughter escaped him, she gave herself an inner high five.
It didn’t seem fair that she’d have to earn the right to become his mate. That she’d have to convince him to get him to take her along. But she’d do it if she had to.
This feeling of union was only in the nascent stages. What it would feel like when it was fully formed, she didn’t know. But she couldn’t wait to find out.
A moan fell from her lips before it was snatched away by his kiss.
She felt him, all around her. His chest pressed tightly against hers. The hair covering his hard pecs rasped against her nipples. It should have chafed, but instead, her nerves prickled into awakening, making the nubs bud.
He swallowed her cry as he delved between them, cupping one of her breasts. He gently squeezed the mound, and then pinched one of the tips between forefinger and thumb.
She yelped at the rough action. It was in stark contrast to the way he was tasting her. Exploring her mouth. His tongue was languid, free from rush. The rush was all on her side.
They were naked, on a bed made of clouds. At least, that’s how it felt to Lara.
The freedom of movement enabled her to raise her legs and grasp a hold of his hips between them. She used the strength to drag him against her, to hold him close. Her own rocked, seeking more. Endlessly seeking.
She whimpered every time his cock brushed her pussy, but he seemed unaffected.
Unreached.
His strength, his ability to hold back, should have been impressive. Instead, it frustrated her.
No matter how hard and fast she tried to rock her hips, he carried on supping from her mouth. Tracing his tongue against hers, tangling the two together until they were almost playing chase. She groaned as he began to kiss from one corner of her mouth to the other and dropped down, shifting away from her tight grip so he could focus on her breasts.
Her pussy was so wet she felt her juices touch his stomach. Embarrassment made her moan. How was he so unaffected? Why didn’t he feel on fire too?
Her back arched as he lashed her nipple with the tip of his tongue, not stopping until she was panting and trying to grind into him. When he moved onto her other tit, she wanted to die.
She ran her hands through his hair, gripped a tight hold of his scalp, and blurted out, “Georgios, more. Please. I need more.”
He mumbled something against her nipple but, otherwise, ignored her.
The torment of his languor was more than she could stand.
It was like being teased.
He was hard. She knew it.
Why was he making her suffer like this?
And then, she learned what suffering was when he, once again, ignored the way she clamped her legs about him and carried on further down. Kissing her stomach, anointing her hip bones with kisses before tracing them with his tongue.
Her bare pussy called to him next, thank fuck, and he pressed his nose to the line where hip met thigh. He sucked in a breath, moaned with pleasure at what he scented, and swiped across, nudging her clit with his nose.
Her eyes flared wide at that. Before she could complain, he grabbed her legs and with brute strength, pushed them wide apart, enough for the sinews in her inner thighs to ache. But the ache was good.
Jesus, was it good.
It opened her up to him. Opened her up in a way that had her clit peeking out, ready for his touch.
And he touched it.
God, did he.
He made her scream by openly sucking down on the sensitive nubbin. Not stopping until her thighs were fighting the fierce hold he had on them. Then, he stopped, leaving her panting, breathless, so close to orgasm she thought she’d go insane.
He trailed his tongue down her core, seeming to know every hotspot, every wicked place she possessed that would drive her mad with need for him.
She moaned as he thrust his tongue inside her, and then, she moaned again as he stopped, rolled over onto his back, and in a gruff voice, demanded, “Come here, Lara.”
She eyed him with dazed delight. He wanted to fuck her? It was all she could think of. His cock was like a stand. It pointed upright for a second before falling heavily against his stomach. Her mouth watered with the need to taste him, but as she maneuvered on the cloud, straddling his hips, he dragged her up, up, not stopping until she was sitting there.
Right on his face.
Mortification tried to swell inside her, but it died a swift death when he impaled her on his tongue.
She let out a moan, because his tongue wasn’t like any other tongue she’d known.
It wasn’t thick and short. Stubby. It was long. Thin.
It flickered inside, seeming to travel so deeply into her core her eyes were wide with how far he could taste her.
The tip fluttered back and forth, touching places she’d never known could be touched. A cock couldn’t reach those places. Fuck, a tongue couldn’t either.
Confusion dragged questions into her head, but she was too far gone to think of the answers. Not when that tongue was dragging her toward an orgasm that would kill her.
She felt sure her heart would stop with the power of it.
He raked against soft tender tissues, treating them as delicately as he’d supped from her mouth. But the reaction was magnified ten times.
She couldn’t help it. She came. There was no stopping it, no holding it in. She burst. Like that. Falling forward so that her hands used the cloud to keep her upright, his own fingers came up to her thighs to clamp her against him.
He made mumbling noises, satisfied rumbles that drove her insane as they caused vibrations deep inside her.
She felt liquid burst from within her core and heard more rumblings. Mumbles a man made when he was given a treat and was enjoying the taste.
She was too far gone to be embarrassed. He wasn’t stopping, that much was evident. He was intent on killing her.
He tasted her, everything she had to offer, not stopping until she was riding his face, squeezing his head with the ferocity of what he was forcing her to experience.
She remained bent over, too weak to stay upright as he gorged on her.
There was no other way to describe it.
That wicked, wicked tongue tormented her. Dragging forth more pleasure than she’d ever known in her life.
Three, four, five times, she climaxed. Maybe more.
She begged him to stop
. Pleaded with him to fuck her. The tongue was a torment. It gave her pleasure but didn’t fill her. She needed that thick, hard shaft to impale her. To conquer her, to fulfill her desires.
The tongue gave with one hand but took away with the other.
“Fuck me, fuck me,” she whispered the litany, her words slurred, her tone loaded with a desperation that had she heard herself, she wouldn’t have recognized it as belonging to Lara Devinsky.
He’d brought her to this.
He’d dragged her to the depths of desperation, but she couldn’t stop him. She couldn’t even tell him no. Could only beg him for more, beg him for his cock.
His satisfied rumblings were the only answer she received, until this time, his fingers moved from clamping her thighs to his throat—how she hadn’t suffocated him, she didn’t know—and they delved between the folds of her sex.
Before she knew what was happening, he pinched her clit.
Hard.
It was in such stark contrast to the lashings of his tongue, that the pain brought with it a kind of relief.
So much pleasure was excruciating in its own way, but this exquisite agony, this pinch of discomfort did more than the other six orgasms could.
She roared her release. All her muscles clamping down in reaction to the inferno that roared through her veins.
Her yell ricocheted inside her skull, and with it, she started sobbing.
In her bedroom, on her bed, and very much alone, she felt the mortifying liquid that had gathered between her thighs.
She was drenched.
He’d made her come so many times, had tortured her with the delicious bliss only he could give her, but he hadn’t fulfilled her the one way she needed.
Desperation had her reaching down and sliding three fingers inside her pussy.
She couldn’t come again. At least, she didn’t think she could, but she was so sick of feeling empty. So exhausted by it the sobs came harder.
The relief that surged to the fore when her fingers were inside her cunt had pleasure fluttering to life deep within her core once more.
She was exhausted, too tired for this, but she couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t hold back.
Lara fucked herself, hard and fast, spreading her fingers, scissoring them to mimic his thickness.
Leman Page 5
