by Kit Tunstall
He grinned at her, letting his hand drop to her belt with sensuous slowness. “Very well, beloved.” He made quick work of undoing the belt and tossing it over his shoulder. Without the support of the brooch and belt, the arisaid pooled around her legs, revealing her blouse and petticoat. “What shall I do next?”
She frowned at him. It wasn’t like Nicholas to be so playful, especially since he must have realized how she was yearning to complete the lessons she had learned in his arms during their stolen meetings. “Make me your wife.”
His grin faded, and he pulled her more snugly onto his lap. “You already are, Erin. You have been since I first laid eyes on you in 1212, at the age of fourteen.”
She shook her head. “No, make me your wife in every sense of the word.” Erin stroked his face. “I want you in this life, not in some past life I barely remember.”
With tender urgency, Nicholas stripped off her blouse and chemise. “Lean forward.” Bracing her hands on his shoulders, Erin lifted her bottom into the air to allow him to strip off the petticoat. When she sat on his lap again, her bare buttocks rested on the wool of his trousers. A laugh escaped her when she looked down to see she still wore her brogues, and nothing else. With a flip of each ankle, she kicked them off, before clamping her thighs around his waist. “You wear too many clothes, husband.”
He grunted. “Aye, but I have no wish to part from you to remove them.”
“Allow my assistance.” Erin pushed off his vest before tugging his shirt from his opened trousers to undo the last button and slide it off as well. She nibbled on her tongue, considering the logistics of removing his trousers with him seated and her sitting atop him.
Nicholas took over, sliding her from his lap so he could remove his boots and strip off the trousers and drawers. When he was nude, he beckoned her close again, and she settled back onto his lap. Heat flooded her pussy when his cock brushed against it. Sitting on him without the barrier of clothing was much more intimate and invoked a trace of fear. Not of him, but of the unknown that was coming.
She gasped when Nicholas leaned forward, laying her on the ground in one smooth movement. Erin clutched his shoulders as he shifted to kneel between her thighs, and his face nestled against her stomach. She loosened her grasp and moved one hand to his head, to stroke his short locks. “What are you doing?” she asked, when he kissed her stomach.
“Tasting you.” Her stomach quivered under the teasing touch of his lips as he kissed her again, gradually moving lower.
She caught her breath when his tongue swept around her bellybutton, moving south. Releasing his hair, fingernails digging into her hands, she had to rein in the impulse to stop him. Part of her said what he planned couldn’t be proper, but the rest of her didn’t care. Her pussy convulsed with anticipation as his tongue probed the curls shielding it. When his tongue swiped down her slit, she couldn’t entirely hold back a cry of shock and pleasure that emerged as a squeak.
“Be calm, love. I will never hurt you.” His breath whispered against her slit as he spoke his assurances, inflaming the swollen flesh further.
“I know,” she managed to whisper. Her mouth was dry, and her stomach clenched with nervous expectation just as his tongue delved inside her, to taste her clit. She dug her nails deeper into her palms to hold back another cry when his appendage swept down her slit to probe her opening. Her body was one quivering mass, and she couldn’t focus on a single thought, too lost in sensation. “Nicholas.”
He ignored her crying his name, continuing to lick every inch of her, inciting pleasure beyond anything she had ever imagined. Erin thrust her hips against his face, wanting more of his tongue, as he slipped it inside her. Tears streamed from her eyes, brought on by the frustration of being unable to give voice to her delight.
The convulsions increased in strength, seemingly radiating from her pussy throughout her body. Her thighs clenched around Nicholas’s head, and a gasping sob escaped Erin as an orgasm swept through her. She continued to tremble under the onslaught for several moments, unaware of anything until she felt a small stabbing sensation in her inner thigh.
She rose up to see Nicholas, eyes wide when she saw he was feeding from the vein in her thigh. The pain had faded quickly, replaced by incredible bliss that flooded through her in warm waves. She laid down again, losing herself in the soft sounds of his sucking, the faint copper odor of blood mingled with the mossy smell of the cave and her arousal, and the beating of her heart lulling her into a semi-trance as it slowed.
When he lifted his head a few minutes later, a trickle of her blood marred his chin, but there was little else to prove he had been supping from her. Erin held out her arms, too content to speak, and he came to her.
He kissed her lips, merely brushing his against hers, but Erin lifted a hand to hold him against her while she deepened the kiss. The first taste of her essence, mixed with blood, was unpleasant, but she kept kissing him, sweeping her tongue around his mouth, determined to show she accepted him for what he was. When she finally chose to break the kiss, she said, “Make love to me now, my love.”
“It has been too long.” His hand slipped between their bodies to guide his cock to her pussy, hovering at the entrance. “I do not want to hurt you…”
Erin touched a finger to his lips. “Do not fret.” She braced herself for pain when he surged inside her, finding it uncomfortable, but not intolerable. Soon, his thrusts incited more pleasure than pain, and her hips rose to meet each one. Their rhythm was easy to find, as if they had established it long ago. They had lifetimes ago, she reminded herself, before the ability to form coherent thought left her.
Her body geared up for release, shaking with the strength of her impending orgasm. Nicholas filled her with his satisfaction seconds before another orgasm overwhelmed her, more intense than the last. Convulsions swept from deep inside her, radiating outward, contracting her pussy around his cock. Erin bit hard on her tongue to restrain a cry, somehow managing to breathe as her world fell apart and reformed in the space of a few minutes.
Afterward, they lay together in contentment for a long time, with Nicholas careful not to brace his full weight upon her. Erin rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent, and contemplating how complete she was. How had she lived eighteen years without him? Her mind couldn’t comprehend how Nicholas had managed to survive six hundred years without her, except for all-too-brief incarnations.
She pulled away to stare into his eyes, as her fingers played with the hair at his temples. “I love you.”
“I would die for you,” he said with utmost seriousness.
Tears blurred her vision, and she smiled at him. “I want to die for you. Make me yours forever, Nicholas.”
He hesitated. “I cannot. The journey—”
She put her finger to his lips and brushed her thumb across one of his fangs. “Do it now. Please.”
“Erin—”
She sighed. “You have my permission. I know how important that is to you, after what happened with Emma.”
He looked startled. “How did you…?”
“I have dreamed of the past. I know you did not change me again, after the first time. Each time, I was lost to you.” She caressed his cheek. “Ensure nothing can take me from you again. Change me,” she begged with quiet desperation. She doubted the change would alter the future, but dared to hope.
With a groan, he moved his mouth to her neck. His teeth slid into the skin of her neck, as his cock pressed against her thigh. She felt a flash of pain, and then desire surged through her once more. She clutched Nicholas’s shoulders and pulled him closer. As weakness overcame her, she managed to whisper, “If anything happens to me, promise you will find me again and make me yours.”
He pulled away long enough to stare into her eyes, looking haggard. Her blood colored his lips. “I will not lose you again, love.”
“We were not meant to live apart. Promise me.” Her head spun, and blood trickled down her neck.
H
e hesitated before nodding. “I will always find you.”
“Change me immediately next time. Do not take any chances.”
Nicholas shook his head. “Do not speak of this. Nothing will happen to you again, Erin. Soon you will change, and I will not let harm come to you.”
She smiled. “Then finish it, my beloved.” As his head returned to the bend of her neck, she tried to ignore a twinge of sadness, knowing Nicholas would have to find her again. Shadowy dreams of the future occasionally came to her when she had the headaches. Like the other visions, they had haunted her all her life. Even before Nicholas found her, she had seen the visions. They weren’t clear like the others she experienced, but she knew they were just as real. In each of those mental flashes, she was herself, but didn’t look like herself at all. She was a different person, although she was also the same on a fundamental level.
Erin held tightly to him as her strength ebbed under the onslaught of his fangs, wishing she could impart strength with her blood, knowing Nicholas would need it. He would be devastated when he lost her again. If the change didn’t sharpen her gift enough to reveal her own fate, she hoped it would blind her third-eye. Her grandmother had been proud Erin was born with the Gift, but Erin was more inclined to agree with her father, who alternated between ignoring and denouncing it. Her flashes of the future were a curse, because nothing she’d ever tried had changed what was supposed to happen.
The time she dreamed her baby brother would drown, she had convinced her mother not to let him from the house. They had watched him constantly, but in the end, the nanny had fallen asleep while bathing him, and he drowned in three inches of water.
When she told her father the MacDonalds would ambush his soldiers when they left McCairn land, kidnapping Daniel, he had ignored her. She had warned Daniel, who had tried to indulge his little sister, but went along with the raiding party anyway. In the end, his blood had flowed into the river.
The future was immutable, so what was the value of receiving brief glimpses of events she couldn’t alter? As Nicholas pressed her mouth to his bare chest, where he had opened the vein near his heart, she tried to concentrate on the present and tell herself the future wasn’t set, while drinking deeply of her husband, praying his strength would somehow give her the power to alter the course destiny had set for her.
Emily’s neck throbbed when she awoke, so she touched the spot, almost surprised to not find wounds where Nicholas had bitten her. Hers had healed long ago, but those from the dream had been fresh. The rest had been so vivid that she wouldn’t have been shocked to find physical manifestations.
How much of the dream could she trust? Had she truly begged Nicholas to change her at their next meeting? Could she believe Erin had been mildly psychic, or was the dream the result of subtle suggestions imparted by Nicholas? She assumed he could control her dreams, if he wished. Was he manipulating her again?
With a sigh, she slid from bed. Her head ached, and she was dizzy. She looked down at the crumpled black dress, then at the clock on the nightstand. Although she had slept less than five hours, she didn’t think she could fall asleep again.
She went into the bathroom to shower. After she returned to the room and dressed in a short black skirt and red shirt, she sat on the bed, trying to muster the nerve to leave the bedroom. She had to face Nicholas some time, but was frightened. His rage last night had scared her, and the dream had confused her. What if Erin was correct, that they weren’t meant to be apart? How could she reconcile her supposed destiny with what had become of her life, what he had made of her life?
Eventually, she made herself leave the bedroom. The door had been unlocked, though she had half-expected him to confine her to the room. She hesitantly entered the living room, which was empty. She went into the kitchen and froze when she saw Tremont scrubbing the counters. Her skin crawled, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She started to turn, but his voice stopped her.
“The master had a business appointment.”
Her eyebrow lifted. “Nicholas had an appointment?”
Tremont put down the sponge and clambered from the stepladder. He made a pathetic figure in the overly long apron, with a cheerful yellow glove on his hand. “Yes, mistress. He shall return by six.”
It seemed ridiculous to fear him, as he was in his present form. Perhaps Michael and Nicholas were right about him. He was no longer an object of terror, but pity. She leaned cautiously against the doorframe. “What kind of business?”
“Master Vallsade runs an import-export business, and he consults for universities and collectors from time to time.” His last word was nearly lost under the snapping sound when he peeled off the glove by using his teeth to grip the reservoir tips hanging over his stubby fingers.
“What does he consult with them for?”
“Historical artifacts. He’s somewhat of an expert, especially on objects dated within the last eight hundred years,” Tremont said in a light tone.
“Oh, I see.” For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to her that Nicholas did something so mundane as run a business or work. Had she imagined he maintained the lifestyle he lived with his mental powers? She shrugged, not having thought about it at all until now. “Am I allowed to leave the apartment?” She didn’t have a destination in mind, but was curious to see if she was under house arrest.
He frowned. “I do not know, mistress.” His eye darted around the room, avoiding hers. “I can have many things delivered—”
“I want to shop.” She eyed the short skirt and grimaced. “Nicholas’s clothing selections aren’t to my taste.”
He sagged. “I would be happy to drive you, mistress.”
She groaned when practicality interfered with her plans. “I don’t have any money. Darn it.”
A smile curved across Tremont’s grotesque face, bringing a previously unrevealed depth. There was genuine amusement in his expression. “That is not a problem, mistress. I know where the master keeps his credit cards.”
A giggle bubbled from her, and she shared a laugh with Tremont. The edgy sensation she had experienced in his company dissipated, and she relaxed. “Well, let’s hit the town then.”
Tremont nodded. “I shall fetch one of his cards from the safe.”
Emily followed him down the hall into Nicholas’s office. She hadn’t been in this room before, but wasn’t surprised to see the same red and black decorating scheme. A huge antique desk took up about a quarter of the room, and three of the walls were dominated by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, stuffed full of books ranging from business to classic literature to dog-eared paperbacks written by Peter Straub, Ray Bradbury, and Stephen King. She felt a flicker of amusement when she noted no Anne Rice books adorned his shelves.
She waited a few feet from Tremont as he lifted a print from the wall and awkwardly conveyed it to the desk. She turned her head when he returned to the safe and entered the combination. “Nicholas must trust you.”
He nodded. “Master relies on me greatly. Once I proved my loyalty, he gave me more responsibilities.”
“How can you…” She trailed off, biting her lip.
He removed something from the small safe and closed the door. “What, mistress?”
“How can you stay with him? After everything that happened, how can you…” She shrugged, unable to articulate what she wanted to ask.
“The master is my life,” he said simply. “I would die if our connection was severed.”
“That’s why—”
He shook his head. “There is more to it, mistress. Nicholas and I shared an intense hatred for each other for more than a hundred years.” As he spoke, he busied himself with returning the print to the wall. “We hurt each other deeply.” His eyes seemed to avoid hers. “I did what I did, and Nicholas destroyed me in retaliation. He took everything I had worked for in my life as master of Tremont Plantation. He took my family.” His voice softened to a whisper. “I begged him for death, you know, but he refused. He linked me to him as
a deeper punishment.”
She frowned with confusion. “I don’t understand how you can be so loyal to him, or how he trusts you.”
Tremont blinked, as if the question was equally confusing to him. He seemed to have trouble understanding why she couldn’t grasp their relationship. “We need each other, mistress. Nicholas is a man who has suffered great pain. I contributed heavily to the anguish he endures.” He bowed his head for a moment, and then took a deep breath before continuing. “In caring for him and acting as his companion, I found redemption. Without him, I would not have become the man I am. It is difficult to comprehend, but he saved me from what I had become.”
She assumed he wasn’t speaking about his physical appearance, but didn’t really understand what he meant. “I…” She shook her head. “I guess it doesn’t matter.”
“Perhaps you will understand in time.”
She nodded, though the relationship seemed too complex. “Can I ask you another question?”
“Of course, mistress.”
“How do you drive?” She winced, hoping he wouldn’t take offense at the insensitive question.
“The Lincoln is modified, mistress.”
“I see.” She turned and left the office, with Tremont trailing at a respectful distance. “One more thing.”
“Yes, mistress?”
“Can we dispense with this ‘mistress’ nonsense?” She shook her head. “It’s so archaic.”
He hesitated, but finally said, “If you wish.”
“I do.”
“What shall I call you? Miss Swesso?”
“Just Emily will do.”
“Uh, well, I do not know if the master will allow such forwardness.”
She rolled her eyes and stopped in mid-step. She turned to face Tremont, looking down at him with a firm expression. “I want you to call me Emily. Don’t be so concerned with Nicholas’s wishes.”
He looked skeptical. “We shall see if you find that as easy to do as say, mistress.”
