by Mara Leigh
“Slow down. Careful.” Zuben’s voice is tender.
Gently squeezing my cheeks with his other hand, he forces open my mouth to release his wrist.
Too overwhelmed with pleasure to object, I close my eyes in ecstasy, licking my lips, running my tongue over my teeth and sucking at the insides of my cheeks—desperate to ingest every last drop of what he gave me.
Wanting more, I reach for his hand.
He pulls it behind his back. “You have consumed enough.”
I nod as gratitude floods into the mix of emotions and physical delights racing through me. And other, stronger emotions pull me to Zuben. Shifting forward, I run my hand over his arm to his shoulder, wanting, needing to touch him, to be close to him, however I can. My thirst has been quenched, my burns seem to have healed, and I’m full of energy.
But beyond that, his blood has woken something else inside of me. Something I’ve felt only one time before in my life. And the feeling is perhaps even stronger now than it was with Ryker. It’s impossible to deny that my body and mind are consumed with lust.
I try to fight against the raging need that’s dominating my attention. It seems wrong. Not only do I have more important concerns at the moment, I developed feelings for Ryker last night—or whenever that was—strong feelings. So why do I now want Zuben so fiercely?
In little more than two days, I’ve gone from being a virgin, avoiding any situation that might turn sexual, into a nymphomaniac of some kind.
On the other hand, I’ve been attracted to Zuben from the moment I met him. Who wouldn’t be attracted to his creamy brown skin, his thick black lashes, his chestnut eyes that look at me with so much intensity and interest—and his sharp, symmetrical bone structure that’s at once beautiful and entirely masculine. And that’s all ignoring his elegant frame, solid and muscular, belying his formal attire.
Objectively justifying my attraction is not helping to quell my lust—my desperate need for this man, this vampire.
Zuben’s hand shifts to cover mine, and I realize that I’ve been stroking his chest, my palm warm and tingling from the friction over the texture of his suit and the hard muscles beneath the fabric.
Turning my hand under his, I let our fingers entwine while I raise my other hand to his face. His eyelashes flutter when I make contact with his cheek.
“Ember.” His voice is deep, rich like butter, and his skin is surprisingly soft, almost like velvet, and so warm to the touch as my thumb strokes his sharp cheekbone and my fingertips tease into his dark hair, which I now realize is longer than I originally thought, slicked back with some kind of grooming product.
Turning his head, he kisses my palm, like he did the day we first met, and desire vibrates through my body, tightening my sex and further heightening my need.
I can hardly believe how wet I am. I recognize that feeling at least, and my inner muscles pulse, calling out for his cock. I hope it can hear.
What is wrong with me?
Is this wrong? Maybe I deserve, maybe I need a little comfort, a distraction from the danger. And this doesn’t have to have anything to do with my feelings for Ryker. We didn’t make any promises, even if promises were implied—at least in my mind.
Zuben’s tongue lightly licks my palm, and I sigh in pleasure, squirming with need on the sofa.
“I am sorry,” he says, “about your body’s unexpected reaction.” In a flash, he takes both of my wrists and holds them firmly down by my sides, and the bold gesture amplifies my lust.
The heat and wetness between my legs builds. Whatever he wants from me, I’m up for it. Up for anything. I’ve had fantasies of being dominated by a man, but until last night I never thought that I’d want any of my sexual fantasies to merge into real life.
But it tracks that Zuben would like taking full control during sex. Does he plan to tie me up? It would suit his rigid personality, and I hope other parts of him are equally rigid.
Dropping my wrists, he leaps back from me, landing on the other side of the room.
I start to rise, but he holds up his hands, palms toward me. “I cannot allow anything sexual to happen between us.”
He clasps his hands behind his back, and the action parts his jacket, revealing more of his torso and elegant slacks. And it draws my eyes down to his obvious erection, tenting against the wool fabric, foreshadowing its shape—long and stiff like the rest of him.
My hand snakes down the neckline of my dress, lightly caressing my skin and lingering at the edge of my breast. The involuntary movement feels lurid, like something Gracen would do, not me, but I’m unable to stop myself.
Standing, I walk slowly toward him, circling the edge of the massive mattress that fills the room’s center, and my hips’ exaggerated movements make me even more aware of the dampness between my legs—not to mention the deep, hot ache of need centered there.
Now that I’ve discovered sex will I want it all the time? Want it in an all-consuming way that supersedes other needs, pushes aside common sense and discretion? I know I don’t want every male.
I certainly had zero desire when surrounded in the hall by those vampires, or those fake police last night. But Zuben is a whole different ball game. A game I very much want to play.
Nearing him, I reach forward to touch what I most want, but he captures both wrists before I get the chance. My legs squeeze together, my hips making tiny circles I can’t even try to make subtle, as my body fights for some kind of relief.
“Don’t you want to have sex?” My tongue flicks out to wet my upper lip, and my wanton action shocks me. It’s like I’ve been possessed by a different person, or an entirely different version of myself. “I can tell you’re turned on.” My eyes flick down to his erection again.
“Sex between us is not possible.” Zuben looks over my head, now unwilling to meet my gaze, even though his cheeks have darkened and his breaths have quickened. He’s fighting his desire as much as I am.
“Why?” I shift toward him, but his grip on my wrists tightens and he moves my arms between us, preventing my pelvis from reaching its desired destination.
“It is…against my moral code.”
“Oh!” I blink in shock. “If you’re worried about bro code, Ryker and I aren’t exclusive.”
He winces. “The pirate is most certainly not my brother. Please be assured that my reluctance has nothing to do with him.” He looks into my eyes. “I do not wish to take advantage of you.”
Relief floods through me, and anticipation heightens my desire. “But you wouldn’t be taking advantage of me. Not at all. I consent.” I smile. “I want this. I want you.” I arch toward him, but his hands, holding my wrists, keep my belly from pressing into his hardness.
His gaze snaps down to meet mine, and I suck in a breath, seeing his obviously heated expression. He wants me as badly as I want him, even if he refuses to admit it.
Desire radiates, and my hips circle, driven by the pulsing need at my core, as if there’s some kind of perpetual motion machine inside me I can’t begin to slow down.
My cheeks heat, along with the rest of me, and I force down the last remaining thoughts at the back of my mind, urging caution and restraint. I will kill any thoughts that offer any reasons to stop this. My body doesn’t care about reason, or propriety, or caution. It just wants satisfaction for my overwhelming need.
“Your sexual feelings,” Zuben says firmly. “They are not real.”
“Oh, they are very real.” I step toward him, but he steps back, shaking his head.
“Who are you to tell me whether or not my feelings are real?” I don’t want to get angry or offended, but he’s not making it easy. His arrogance, his belief that he knows what’s best for me is a turn off, but not nearly enough to turn off my physical desire.
“There are things you do not understand,” he says.
“I’m not a virgin,” I blurt, then bite my lip, wishing I could take back my outburst.
He blinks, his long lashes kissing his sharp cheekbones. “I did no
t suggest that you were.”
“Do you prefer men?” I ask. “Is that it?”
He shakes his head.
My gaze drops to the floor, along with my self-esteem. “You aren’t attracted to me.” How could I have read him so wrong? Has my lust been seeing things that aren’t there?
His hands release my wrists and land at the sides of my face, tipping my head up so our gazes meet. “Ember, my attraction to you is…it is very strong.” He exhales through his lips, his breaths coming more quickly now and reminding me of the other evidence of arousal I saw when his suit jacket parted.
“Then why?” I hate the desperation in my voice, but my need is miles beyond the point of transparency and edging toward pathetic.
Taking the lapels of his jacket, I grip tightly to keep my hands from stroking his chest or worse, grabbing his erection or letting my hands venture behind him to explore his ass. Touching him will make him move away from me—the last thing I want.
“Your physical need—” his tongue flicks out, barely grazing his lush lips “—your desire was caused by my blood.”
“It was?” I’ve already figured that out and don’t care, but he likes to explain things, so I’ll let him. “I can feel your blood’s effect on my body. It quenched my thirst, healed the rest of my burns.” I stroke my shoulder and upper back to confirm what I already suspected, and then drop my hands to my sides. “And your blood gave me a ton of energy. Does vampire blood have caffeine?”
Smiling, I reach for his hips, but he releases my face and steps back from me, slamming against the wall.
He disappears, and I turn, finding him on the other side of the room in front of an oddly shaped leather bench. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how quickly vampires can move.
I cross the room, this time over the mattress, holding my arms out for balance and loving the textures of fur and silk against the soles of my feet, wanting to lie down and luxuriate in the fabrics. But even more, I want to reach Zuben, to pull him down into the heavenly softness with me.
As I cross, he moves away from the strange bench toward a nearby sofa, and when I step off the mattress, he sits, gesturing for me to sit too.
Resisting the urge to slide onto his lap, or even perch too close, I lower myself near the other end of the furniture and turn toward him.
“Let me explain more fully,” he says, and I nod.
“Vampire blood has a…a pleasurable effect on humans.”
“Like the venom?”
His head tips slightly as he nods. “Yes, I suppose that is correct. Ryker told you about vampire venom?”
I nod. “He said it usually puts humans to sleep.”
“Normally it does, yes, but it also invokes pleasure, helping humans to relax so they do not resist the feeding in any way that might cause trauma or physical damage to their throats. The venom ensures that humans suffer no more than the small puncture wounds necessary to drink, and then it heals those wounds.”
“I didn’t fall asleep when Ryker fed.” But I certainly felt pleasure. So, so much pleasure. Thinking back on my time with Ryker, it’s hard to remember which was better, the feedings or the sex. It’s all intertwined for me.
“I was very interested to learn that,” he says, “and it makes me even more certain about the special nature of your blood. But at this juncture, I would like to focus, not on the pirate’s taking your vein, but on my blood’s effect on your…your libido.”
His tone is pedantic, like he’s a teacher and I’m his pupil. He’s making it sound as if I have zero control over my own wants and needs, and… Okay, even if that’s true, even if I’m starting to suspect the same thing, I feel like a fool being called out on it.
And I also hate knowing that my reaction must be something that happens to him all the time.
“Do you often give humans your blood?” I ask, hoping the slight jealousy I feel doesn’t show in my voice.
“No.” He shakes his head. “You are the first human who has ever tasted my blood.”
I straighten. “Then how are you so sure that your blood is the reason that…the reason I want you?” And I want him so badly. Right now, my sexual need is in control of my body, my mind, in control of everything.
“I have seen this reaction before,” he says. “I have seen other vampires give humans a taste of their blood.”
I cringe, imagining vampires using their blood like a rape drug, and I’m starting to understand why he doesn’t want to take advantage of me. “So, you’re saying that vampires drug humans to have sex with them?”
“Not normally. No.” He shakes his head vigorously, then tips it slightly. “I cannot say I have never seen that happen, but that is not what I meant. I have witnessed vampires feeding humans small amounts of blood to save them from pain, or to heal them from life threatening injuries. But…” his head tips to the side “…while it was obvious that the humans felt sexual desire after those feedings, your reaction seems…unusually strong.”
“You can say that again.” My insides contract, a tiny orgasm that steals my voice for a moment. The effect of this man, without even touching me... “And you’ve never fed a human before? Not even to heal them?”
He shakes his head.
“Why?”
“Because I believe that it is unethical.”
“Then why did you give me your blood?”
His cheeks darken. “I saw no other solution to your dehydration, and—”
“And what?” He clearly doesn’t want to finish his thought.
He sighs. “When I bit my wrist, I released a great deal of my venom, knowing you would ingest it as you fed. As such, I thought you would sleep through any…these undesirable physical effects.”
“Undesirable?” I feel punched. Rejected. “But I’d already told you that Ryker’s bite didn’t put me to sleep.”
He nods. “I assumed the cad had held back his venom.” He clears his throat. “Ember, please let me explain. I want to be as unambiguous as I can.”
I nod. He keeps going around in circles, making excuses, stalling as if he hopes that if he talks long enough, frustrates me enough, I’ll get past this overwhelming urge to have sex.
But in spite of my growing annoyance, my sex continues to pulse, so damp my thighs are slick.
“Since the day we met,” he says, “I suspected that your blood’s effect on vampires could be very special, but I did not anticipate that the effect of a vampire’s blood on you would also be different.”
He shifts, and his jacket falls open, once again exposing his tented pants. My breath shudders through me, and my hips pulse.
“Thank you for explaining.” I shift toward him. “And now that everything’s out in the open, you won’t be taking advantage—”
“Yes. I would be. And I don’t want you to ever have a reason to question my motivations with regard to you.” Everything in his voice, his expression, his body language reads genuine. He cares what I think of him.
He doesn’t want our first time to be tainted by artificially generated desire. The thought floods my heart and makes me want him even more. Now that I understand where he’s coming from, we can get past the ethical dilemma fighting inside him. But how can I convince him that my desire is real?
“Zuben.” I slide my hand along the sofa cushions, shifting ever so slightly toward him. “I appreciate your honesty and your…values. It means a lot that you don’t want to take advantage of me.”
His body visibly relaxes, his shoulders shifting. The tendons in his face release too, and his lips soften, making him even more handsome—something I didn’t think possible. His eyes flutter shut and I marvel again at his thick black lashes. I want to kiss those lashes, or better yet feel them flick over my skin.
“I want to be fully honest with you,” I say copying his serious tone. “No games between us.”
His eyes snap open. “Games?”
“No…artifice.”
He nods. “I appreciate that. Thank you.”
>
“You’re welcome, and I understand that some of the physical things that I’m feeling are…heightened because I drank your blood.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but I hold up my hand, and he stops to let me continue.
“But you need to understand something too.”
He nods.
“I was attracted to you way before I tasted your blood. I was attracted to you the first day we met. And everything you’ve done since then, the concern you’ve shown for me, has only made me more attracted to you. If you made love to me now, you wouldn’t be taking advantage of me. I promise.”
A muscle at the side of his jaw twitches, and he shifts on the sofa again. He’s so staid, so controlled, and I want more than anything to see him unravel. To know how he looks when he comes.
My insides pulse at the thought.
“But there is another way I can use you,” he says, “and I want everything out in the open before—” He looks down, draws a breath, and then looks back into my eyes. “If I am ever so lucky to… Before I even consider any kind of sexual activity, I want you to understand—”
From the hallway, comes a blood-curdling scream.
I shoot to my feet, heart racing. “What was that?”
Zuben shakes his head, stiffly.
The voice cries out again, clearly in pain, a scream followed by a loud curse, and this time I recognize its source.
I race toward the door, but Zuben gets there before me.
“You need to stay hidden,” he says.
I try to push past him. “No. We have to go. That scream, it was Ryker.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Zuben
Ember’s face reveals her terror, but also her bravery and determination, and her emotional pain smashes my heart into sharp shards.
But at least I am saved for the moment from the torture of resisting her infinite charms. My body is exhausted from the effort. My lips burn to kiss her, my hands itch to explore every inch of her lush body, and my stiff member is pounding, aching with need, especially as the wool of my trousers abrades its sensitive skin.
