by Mara Lee
“Yes, yes, yes…” she chanted over and over again. Her eyes were squeezed tightly closed and her face was flushed.
He could feel her pussy clenching deliciously around his cock. Each clench, each spasm shook him to his very core. Flashes of heat and intense pleasure coursed through his body and his cock swelled and hardened further. He grabbed the back of her thighs and plastered her as close to him as possible, never breaking rhythm.
“I’m … yes … Xethre … I’m…” Sheridan arched her back high off of the table, bit her lip so hard she drew blood, and screamed. Her pussy pulsed, shook, spasmed, and then quivered brightly … beautifully.
Xethre heard Sheridan’s heart speaking to him. It was pounding, thump, thump, thump, in her chest and his own dead heart longed to answer. She was so beautiful, so incredibly responsive … so alive. He locked his mouth around the prominent vein right above her collarbone and the moment his cock swelled, pulsed and exploded his seed within her, he bit, piercing her flesh and taking her life-blood.
He clamped his mouth completely around her and drank and drank and drank. Sheridan was shaking and moaning beneath him. Her body flopped like a fish on a hook and her eyes were shut in ecstasy.
When he was finished he gently disengaged his mouth from her supple flesh and drew her to his chest, running a hand down the smooth plane of her hair.
“You are my love … mine, my own.”
She smiled against his broad chest. “Yes, you big lug, I am. Your love, your Sheridan,” she peeked up at him through thick lashes, “who has a life … and needs to get back to it.” She bit her lip and waited.
Xethre growled.
“Come on, stop it.” She rolled her eyes. “Get a grip, will you. I’m not going anywhere … just to work.”
“I wish you to move in with me.” he said carefully.
Sheridan pushed back from him and smiled coyly. “Are you asking me, Alexethre Roistkauff?”
He stiffened. His eyes flashed and Sheridan thought he looked adorable all put out, tied into knots. It was endearing. The big, bad, vampire was totally lost.
“Would you, will you,” he stumbled over the words, “move in with me?”
She tossed back her hair and pretended to be deep in thought. “Mmmmm, well, I have a lot of stuff … and moving is such a bitch, and,” she launched herself at Xethre, catching him off balance, knocked them both down, “YES!”
He smiled. “Yes?”
Sheridan nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes, yes. I mean … have you seen my place,” she didn’t wait for him to answer, “It is such a sty … well, compared to this place, it is. And, you’re closer to the Club, not to mention…”
“You may love me?” he asked dryly.
Sheridan stopped completely. She gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth. When she spoke, it was abashedly, her face bright red. “Oh, oh my God … did I like totally neglect to tell you that I love you? And that is the reason that I’m moving in with you?” She grinned and looked properly chastised. “I am such an idiot sometimes, Xethre.” She reached out and cupped his cold cheeks in her warm hands. “I love you. I love you so much that at times I don’t know what to do with all of my love. It makes me stupid … giddy,” she rolled her eyes, “ready to run off my mouth. But I do, I love you. And I would be honored to live with you.”
Xethre wrapped his arms around her and breathed in the sweet sent of her hair. “No, Sheridan, I am the honored one.” He tilted her head back so he could see into her beautiful eyes. “I have been looked upon favorably … I am not damned … not if I have been given the chance to bask in your love. Not if I can wake each night with the knowledge that you are sharing my death … making it bearable … making it beautiful. I love you Sheridan Malaya Duskul, you and only you, until the sun swallows up the sky and true death claims me. I love you.”
Sheridan swallowed heavily and graced him with a shy smile. “Boy, you sure do talk pretty.”
He grinned, eyes twinkling. “I had to have learned something in two thousand years.”
Her nose scrunched up and her brow furrowed. “You mean … it’s going to take me two thousand years to get the hang of not putting my foot in my mouth?”
He didn’t hesitate. “No, with you it will take longer.”
Sheridan gasped and then sputtered and then swatted him on the side of his head with her hand. She fit him with a stern look, which lasted just a moment before she burst out laughing.
Xethre took them to the ground in one sinuous move, his eyes never leaving her face. He smiled and placed a chaste kiss on her laughing lips.
Sheridan felt her heart beat faster and her breath quicken from that small touch. “I … I have to leave…” she whispered.
He grinned. “So … leave … what is stopping you?”
She grabbed the back of his head with her hands and jerked him down to her. She sighed heavily. “Who the hell needs to make money, right? Food isn’t a necessity.”
Xethre burst out laughing right before he claimed her lips in a searing kiss.
* * * *
“If he thinks I’m wearing this, then he’s deranged.”
Angela sighed. “I know … I’m sorry, Sher. I told him it was ridiculous, but he’s pretty insistent about it.”
Jerry, insistent? Now that was funny. Sheridan laughed and rolled her eyes. “He’s out of the mind I thought he didn’t have.”
Angela bit her lip to keep from cracking up. But her eyes twinkled brightly. “Well?”
Sheridan thought of her mounting bills and that cute little handbag she had seen last week and groaned. “Well, help me into this disaster.”
After the zillionth hoot, Sheridan knew that she had made another one of the mistakes she was so famous for. She should have told Jerry to shove it and dumped this atrocity in the trash, where it belonged.
God, what sort of idiot thought a dancing, singing shark was sexy?
Sheridan dipped a little on the stage as she belted out the last strains
of ‘Someone Else’s Story’ and hit the wall with her giant tail—again. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Jerry was out of his frigging mind. Who the hell could sing, let alone dance, in this costume?
Jerry’s choice for this evening’s debacle was a two-piece shark costume, consisting of a blue mini skirt, and a blue bikini top that was shaped, stupidly enough, like dorsal fins. To add to the ridiculous assemble was a headband with blue and gray ears and a huge tail that was affixed around the waist with Velcro straps. It was hot, cumbersome, and really really embarrassing.
Sheridan finished her set and gave a little curtsy, a curtsy that was impeded by the fact that she tripped over her tail. She stumbled off the stage, tore the ears off of her head and threw them at Angela.
“Forget it, I was having heat stroke … I didn’t mean it … I’m not finishing out the night like this. I look…” She waved her hands helplessly, “I look fucking ridiculous. Like I should be passing out brochures at an amusement park ride in Orlando.”
Angela giggled and then, seeing Sheridan’s look, stopped. “I know … Jerry has lost his rocker. He thinks … well … he thinks what with the name of the club, that he’s being cute.”
Sheridan’s face went beet red. “CUTE? CUTE?” She twirled, hitting several patrons with her gigantic tail, “You go and tell Jerry that kittens are cute, babies are cute, puppies are cute,” she grabbed the end of the tail and shook it, hard, “polyester spandex shark costumes with four fucking-foot-long tails, are NOT CUTE!”
Angela couldn’t help it then, she began to laugh, to bawl; she grabbed a bar stool for support and waved her hand apologetically. “I … I … I’m so…” she couldn’t speak past the chuckles and tears.
Sheridan was disgusted. She grabbed the ear headband and stalked back towards the stage.
* * * *
Two hours later Sheridan was done. She all but ran from the stage, swearing at the top of her lungs.
She struggled with the headband, which was cau
ght in her hair, and kicked off her high heels. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you … I hate you…”
“I hope that hate isn’t directed toward me,” Angela said, handing Sheridan a cool drink.
Sheridan accepted the drink eagerly and shot Angela a scowl. “I’m still mad at you, traitor.”
“Me?”
“You are not supposed to laugh at my discomfort.”
Angela grinned. “I’m sorry … I just couldn’t…”
“Help myself? Yes, yes, I know,” Sheridan grumbled. “I would have laughed at you, if you were wearing this … this … thing.”
“Well, thanks, that’s good to know.” Angela said with a smile.
Sheridan tried to sit but the tail was in her way. She grabbed and began to pull at the Velcro strap, it wouldn’t budge. “Oh for pity’s sake.”
Angela ran a hand reassuringly down Sheridan’s arm. “Hey, don’t worry, we’ll get it off. Let me.” Angela tugged and pulled but the Velcro seemed almost super-glued to the spot. “Uhm…”
Sheridan banged her head against the bar. “Get me a pair of scissors, long, sharp, scissors.”
Angela swallowed. “Jerry will kill you if you cut up that costume, Sher. It’s a loaner, you know.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do, then?” Sheridan began to laugh hysterically. “Oh God, oh my God, this is too rich for words. I’m stuck in a shark costume … a shark costume. It figures, my life is always like this, always.”
“You always get stuck in shark costumes.”
Sheridan snorted. “No, smartie, but only I would.” Sheridan groaned. “I’ll go home and get Xethre to deal with it.” She was not relishing the idea of his seeing her in this thing. She knew his reaction wouldn’t be much better than Angela’s.
At the mention of Sheridan’s hot boyfriend, Angela went all glassy eyed. “How is your hunk of a boyfriend?”
“Still a hunk.” Sheridan smiled. Xethre had said something about perhaps visiting his friend Sophie. He had assured her, though, that he would be home to greet her when she got off work. She hadn’t pressed for information about Sophie. She knew the only neck Xethre was sucking was hers. “We’re living together now, you know.”
Angela gasped. “Oh, oh, oh, that is so cool.”
Sheridan waved nonchalantly. “I guess, I mean it is pretty cool,” her eyes twinkled, “Fuck that, it’s absolutely un-fucking believable.”
“I’ll bet.”
Sheridan grabbed her bag and gave Angela a hug. “I should be getting home. Hot lovin’ waiting for me, ya know.”
Angela hit her on the arm. “Bitch. You are so damn lucky.”
Sheridan thought of Xethre’s corpse like state, the recent revelations that she had weird vampire blood running through her veins, Xethre’s odd assortment of strange friends, and her hideous get-up and grinned. She was, wasn’t she? Hallelujah, she was lucky.
* * * *
Pathos was waiting for Sheridan by her car. He had ditched the black cape for a more casual look tonight. He was wearing a long black silk shirt, shiny black pants, and spiffy black shoes. The entirely black ensemble made his pale complexion appear even paler and his blue eyes even bluer.
“Sheridan,” Pathos said her name like a caress.
She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t have time for your shit tonight, Pathos.”
His eyes gleamed. “I see Xethre told you of me.”
Sheridan nodded. She had to play it cool. She couldn’t let him see how freaked out he made her. And he did freak her out. There was nothing about his outward appearance that would shake a person, save his more than gorgeous face. But something lingered just beneath the surface … something Sheridan had learned to detect—evil. His eyes were hard and his features, if you looked closely enough, too sharp. When he looked at her he gave her the willies.
“I’m going home now, ‘night.” Sheridan reached for the door to her car but was stopped by Pathos’s large hand to her shoulder. Damn it.
“But we have barely begun to get to know one another.” Pathos said, a sneer running across his handsome face.
“I’ll send you an invitation to the Tupperware party, ‘kay? ‘Til then, I’m tired, it’s late, and I’m going home.”
Pathos growled and the sound was inhuman.
She swallowed and inched back.
“Did Xethre not tell what I am about, human,” Pathos asked, leaning close to her.
Sheridan bit her lip.
“Did he not tell you who I am?” Pathos trailed a sharp fingernail down Sheridan’s cheek. “What I am capable of?” Pathos narrowed his eyes and smiled.
Sheridan looked into his bluer than blue eyes and shivered. She felt as if she were drowning. Her heart was beating furiously within her chest and her head was pounding, smothering her under the weight of heavy pain. What was happening to her? Oh God, it hurt, it hurt.
“Do you know the power I command, little one?”
Sheridan groaned. “Don’t call me, little one, asshole,” she spat out. She screamed when heat seared her stomach and little white lights began to dance in her vision. His pull was magnetic, magnetic and terribly painful. Every look, every touch made her twist and ache. He was hurting her just by looking at her. She didn’t know how, but it was happening.
“Do not anger me, little one. I may not be able to kill you, yet, but I can bleed you … I can make you scream. Indeed, it would be my pleasure.” Pathos pressed a kiss to Sheridan’s forehead and smiled when she screamed louder. “Poor Xethre, always underestimating me. Did he really think that I would leave you alone? The Council’s orders mean nothing.” He laughed, “I am the Council.”
“Please…” Sheridan hated how weak her voice sounded. But she hurt. She hurt so badly.
“Yes, little one, this is neither the time nor the place for such … pleasure. You will come with me.”
Sheridan shook her head but it was hopeless. Pathos had swept her up in his arms and she had neither the strength nor the will to stop him.
Chapter Ten:
Sheridan looked side-to-side. She didn’t like what she was seeing. She was surrounded, yep, that was the only word for it, surrounded. There were vampires everywhere she looked, and they were all looking at her.
“What is she wearing?” Asked a very pale and very sour-faced vampire.
Sheridan rolled her eyes. “It’s a shark costume. Did I say that loud enough for all of you guys to hear? A SHARK COSTUME. I don’t want any misunderstandings. It’s not a minnow costume, or a manatee costume. It’s a shark costume.” Sheridan planted her hands on her hips and glared at them. After Pathos had abducted her he had brought her to this intimidating place, a castle, an honest-to-God castle. She wasn’t sure how long they had been flying, or if they were even still in the good U.S. of A, but she had been grateful when they had landed. Suddenly her head didn’t hurt so badly and the pain that had been spearing her stomach had stopped.
Pathos had dragged her into this large room and dumped her—literally. Then he had disappeared, leaving her to face this room full of vamps alone.
“She is pretty, Jarrod, actually, she is quite beautiful,” this came from the same sour-faced vampire that had spoken before.
First Xethre and Michaela had done it, and now these strange vampires. Enough was enough. “You guys are all the same.” Sheridan said, exasperated. “All talking about me like I’m not even in the room. I can hear you, you know.”
Sour-faced vampire speared Sheridan with a cold look. “Have you no manners, child?”
Sheridan thought for a moment. “If manners means, behaving like you guys, uhm no, then I have no manners.”
“Oh leave her be, Willemina, she is, after all, only human.” This new voice came from the deepest shadows of the room.
Sheridan turned toward the dark that housed the speaker. There was something oddly familiar about his voice.
The shadows seemed to part then, to reveal the striking visage of a weathered old man. His face, heavily lin
ed, was still strangely handsome. His eyes were a deep green, clear, bright, and intelligent, and they seemed at odds with his otherwise wizened face. His hair, completely white, lay against his pale and gaunt face like silken thread, and his mouth, was curved up in a disturbing parody of a smile. “Welcome, Sheridan, welcome.”
Sheridan took a step back. “Your welcome could use some work.”
“Ah yes, Pathos, he is a little impetuous at times. I apologize for the manner in which he brought you to us. We were all expecting something a little bit more civilized.”
Sheridan swallowed. “Civilized?”
“Of course…” The vampire smiled. “We are, after all, civilized creatures, aren’t we?” He looked around the room. “We are not monsters.” He glided over to where Sheridan stood, and raked his eyes over her form. “I am Zinnock, and I am pleased to see you again, Sheridan.”
“Again?” Sheridan worked on slowing down her heart rate. Being so close to this vampire was making it work triple-time. There was something very, very, unnerving about him.
“Yes … don’t you remember me, Sheridan,” he smiled, “then again, you were very young when I came visiting.” Zinnock’s eyes glowed brightly as he remembered. “But you were special even then, special and very precocious,” he laughed. “You offered me tea and fake cookies. I believe you and your bear were having a party to celebrate Barbie’s birthday.” Zinnock reached out to touch a loose strand of her hair. “Such a beautiful child…”
Sheridan took another large step back. She gulped. “Okay, mister, I don’t care if you’re Santa Claus himself, touch me again, and I’ll bite off those fingers.”
Zinnock laughed. “I’m counting on it, Sheridan Malaya, I’m counting on it.”
Sheridan shivered. That didn’t sound promising. “I don’t know you.” She said firmly.
Zinnock sighed. “No, perhaps it was too long ago. And human minds forget so easily.” He pressed forward and before she could stop him grabbed her head within his hands. “Allow me to remind you, little one.”
Sheridan’s eyes went wide, and then she was sinking into foggy black memory.
