Things That Go Bump In The Night II

by Lani Aames

  After a few minutes, her head stopped spinning. "I see what you mean about addictive."

  His breath ruffled her hair. "Yes, and I'm afraid I've already gone past the point of no return with you. After this, nobody else could satisfy me."

  "Did it really feel as incredible to you as it did to me?"

  "Oh, yes." She heard amusement in his voice. "Probably more."

  "I can't imagine how. Especially if you don't even feel anything, well, down there."

  "What gives you that idea? The sensation centers on tasting your blood, but it involves my whole body. Every inch of my skin becomes hypersensitive. When you spend, I ride the wave with you. If you could imagine what it's like to feel your heart pounding, feel your hot flesh pressed against mine…Damn, I'm getting thirsty again."

  She giggled. "Nothing wrong with that. I'm still here." She reached between them to stroke his chest. The hair felt like velvet. She traced it to his navel and below. When he didn't object, she fondled his quiescent penis. "So you don't mind this?"

  "I like it. I enjoy any contact with you. This is new to me, though. Never had a donor touch me there before."

  "Really? Why not?"

  "There was no reason to." He ran his hand down her spine to explore the curve of her derriere. "Ah, like silk. I've never been naked with a donor before."

  She tilted her head to look into his half-closed eyes. If true, that statement added weight to his claim that he thought of her as special. She squeezed his shaft. It began to harden. "I thought you said you can't—perform—with human females."

  "Again, never had any reason to try. I don't produce or expel sperm. But, as you see, direct stimulation does have an effect."

  She made a cylinder of her palm and pumped up and down his shaft. It became engorged. She heard a rumble in his chest that almost sounded like a purr. "If you wanted to, we could, well, you know." Suddenly shy, Eloise paused her caresses. What if he found the idea unappealing? If so, she didn't want to coax him into the act.

  "We could couple. Interesting." He thrust into her hand. "Please continue. That's giving me a hell of an appetite."

  The husky note in his voice stirred a tingle between her legs, followed by a new gush of wetness. She pressed her thighs together to ease the tickle in her clit.

  He nuzzled her neck and growled deep in his chest, making her nerves quiver. "You're ready again. The fragrance of your nectar makes me so thirsty I can't stand it." He licked the hollow of her throat, then traced a path to the inside of her right breast. He nipped the skin. The now-familiar jolt of electricity convulsed her.

  Squirming, she rubbed up and down his shaft. She draped her leg over his, desperate for contact to relieve the ache.

  The frantic lapping of his tongue paused. "What do you want? Tell me."

  Hell of a time to pretend he can't sense it! Between labored breaths, she said, "Rub me—there—before I explode!"

  His fingers matched the rhythm of his tongue, and she did explode. "Come in! Please!" When he didn't obey instantly, she shoved him from his side to his back and rolled on top. Ignoring the smile that flitted across his lips, she knelt above him and pointed his cock at her hole. "Now!" She lowered herself on him, and he plunged in to the hilt.

  * * * * *

  Claude gasped in delighted astonishment at Eloise's sudden attack. The hot, silken wetness that surrounded his shaft made currents radiate from that point throughout his body in expanding waves of excitement. He wanted to plunge still deeper into her, swim in her life-force, merge with her until her energy flowed in all his veins and filled each empty spot to the brim.

  She rocked, rubbing her clitoris against the hair at the root of his cock. Her sheath slid up and down on his rod in a smooth rhythm that made his teeth tingle with the need to taste her. He sensed her excitement swelling toward release. Her inner muscles rippled around him. She skimmed her nails over his chest. Tormented by the light contact, he growled, "Harder!" She scratched him, but still not hard enough. When he hissed aloud, she slashed, leaving fiery tracks that made his stomach cramp with need.

  His mouth watered, and his jaws ached. He couldn't let her spend without him. He needed to soar with her again.

  With a roar, he gripped her arms. "Damn it, I can't reach you!"

  She let him pull her into a tight embrace, their bodies pressed together from shoulders to loins. His mouth fastened on her throat. When her blood flowed over his tongue, it completed a circuit of energy that poured through both of them in an endless circle of arousal and satisfaction. Another climax ripped through her, and he shuddered along with her. She screamed, and he echoed her with a howl of ecstasy.

  Mine! he exulted. Mine, forever! No one else could touch her. If he had to, he would kill to keep her safe.

  He felt her go limp, pleasantly exhausted, on the edge of fainting. Her aura faded to a rose-tinged pastel. He shifted position to pillow her head on his shoulder until the fog cleared from her mind.

  "Don't worry," he murmured. "You haven't lost much blood. The exhaustion you feel is the energy drain. And the incisions will heal in a day or two, much faster than ordinary cuts."

  "I'm not worried." She rubbed her face against his chest. "That was incredible."

  "Vraiment! I never imagined the insertion of one appendage into an orifice could enhance the experience that way." A ghost of the ardor they had just shared warmed his blood, and he heard her pulse quicken, too.

  She punched him lightly on the arm. "Ephemerals aren't so inferior, after all."

  "I never considered you inferior. Merely different."

  She sat up. "You used to, though, didn't you?"

  "I don't deny that I've considered all my past donors as sources of refreshment or, at most, pets. But not you. Not from the first night we met." He fought against the impulse to use his hypnotic power to override her doubts. He wanted her fully aware, free, and willing in their union.

  "I don't like the idea that you think of other people as lower animals, either." Bitterness tinged her voice.

  "For you, I'll try to reform." When she frowned at his flippant tone, he said more seriously, "It's not easy to change the habits of a couple of centuries, but I do want to please you. For your sake, I'll revise my attitude toward the rest of your species." Already that "revision" had begun, he realized, for now he understood Philip's anger and grief over his lover's death.

  She started collecting her clothes. "You talk as if we have a future. Aside from making a movie together, I mean."

  Though he still sensed her reservations, he decided further argument right now would have only a negative effect. He sat up with the sheet across his lap. "I hope so, cherie. Dozens of movies and a very long future—after we deal with Philip. Look, you need nourishment. We'll discuss it downstairs over dinner."

  The thought of letting her go, even temporarily, chilled him. He wanted to share thousands of nights like this. He wanted a lifetime to explore her vibrant mind, bask in her scintillating aura, and feast on her intoxicating elixir. But first he had to ensure her safety.

  * * * * *

  After a shower, she joined him in the kitchen. He served her another of the frozen dinners and poured himself a glass of milk. She gaped at it. "Vampires drink milk?"

  "Animal blood and milk form the bulk of our diet. Surely you've come across that detail in folklore?"

  She recalled a few tales that accused vampires of drying up the milk of the village cows. "Sheesh, another blow to my romantic fantasies. Okay, what about Philip? Can't you do anything about him?"

  "Such as? We're forbidden to kill our own kind except in self-defense. I talked to one of the elders after I found out about Philip's resurrection. I'm not getting cut any slack. Unless he attacks me directly, I can't destroy him without becoming an outcast."

  "Oh."

  "Not that I want to. He may be a blot on the landscape, but the poor chap was my friend once. The only way I can see to settle the problem without violence is, as I said, to convince
him you're not important to me."

  Am I? While she didn't want to whine for reassurance, she couldn't shake off the awareness that he had the whole emotion-reading advantage over her. "And if he doesn't give up harassing us?"

  Claude shook his head. "If he wants to make a nuisance of himself, there's no practical way I can evade him. I'm astonished that he found me so fast to begin with. The elder I consulted was quick to point out that if I didn't live this purloined letter lifestyle, Philip would probably never have known where to start looking."

  Recognizing the title of the Poe mystery, Eloise said, "Purloined letter, hidden in plain sight. A vampire pretending to be an actor playing a vampire."

  "Precisely. The strategy has the added bonus that if anyone notices my eccentricities, such as not eating and avoiding the sun, they're chalked up to publicity stunts."

  "With the drawback that the few people who do know vampires exist have no trouble picking up the clues."

  "Too true." He finished the milk and sat back in his chair. "I don't know what long-term solution we can arrange, but for now, he has to see you leave. He has to believe you consider me a monster. Then you should be safe."

  "For how long?" She banged her fork on the table. "Do you expect me to stay away from you for a week? A month? Until another building falls on your ex-friend?"

  "Eloise—" He reached for her hand. "I want you with me always. But not at the cost of your life."

  She withdrew from his handclasp. "Am I supposed to leave right now?"

  "In the middle of the night? Hardly. I'd feel safer if you wait until day, when he'll be weaker. "

  "What are we going to do for the rest of the night?" When the obvious answer popped into her mind, her cheeks warmed.

  "Not what you're thinking." He stood up to clear the dishes. "Something to occupy our thoughts, so I can keep my hands—and other parts—off you."

  Feeling a second or two of irrational letdown that he didn't plan to whisk her to the bedroom again, she said, "It can't stay this intense forever, can it? The attraction has to cool off eventually, and then what?"

  "Au contraire, for all I've heard, the allure between vampire and donor doesn't fade like human infatuation. It only grows stronger with time. There's the addiction factor, you see. It's a biological phenomenon, not merely emotional."

  "Addiction. Then how can we possibly know it's anything except biological?" The doubts she'd buried rose up once more. When he said he cared for her, he himself might not even know the truth of that claim.

  "Considering how desperately I craved you after the first sip, long before the dependency could have started, I trust the reality of my feelings." Circling the table, he imprisoned her head between his hands and stared at her like a cat with a bird under its paw. "Other women cloy the appetites they feed, but she makes hungry where most she satisfies."

  "Shakespeare, now? I'm no Cleopatra."

  "Believe that I see you that way, ma belle."

  The pressure of his gaze made her pulse flutter in her throat. "You promised not to use hypnosis on me."

  "I'm not. Perhaps you're already beginning to sense my emotions, even without a physical bond." His voice caressed her like a cool breeze on sun-warmed flesh.

  "Well, put a lid on them. Let's find something nice and neutral to occupy our thoughts."

  Laughing, he said, "Didn't you write a scene or two for Varney today? Bring it on. Nothing like a spot of editing to quell one's ardor."

  In the office, they spent over an hour cheerfully dissecting the dialogue she'd composed that afternoon. When Claude delivered her Varney's lines with melodramatic verbal flourishes, exaggerated arm-waving, and villainous leers, she collapsed in a fit of giggles. He also offered serious advice for revision, showing that he'd given a lot of thought to how the story should be staged. She could get to like this routine all too quickly. She had to remind herself that her future probably didn't hold nights of passion and literary debates with a ravishing vampire. More likely, Claude's warnings about Philip Trent masked a wish to nudge her out of his life. In reminiscing about his last donor in the 1890s, Claude had made his anxieties about "addiction" clear enough, hadn't he?

  They spent the rest of the night watching movies downstairs. Eloise welcomed the immersion in imaginary realms to keep her brain from buzzing with doubt and fear. If she had to turn into a pumpkin at sunrise, at least she could enjoy these few hours. Claude carefully sat at arm's length from her again, but she undercut his caution by reaching across the space between them to capture his hand. He didn't try to retrieve it.

  She delighted in making him squirm by tickling the little hairs in his palm. He retaliated by rubbing his thumb over the pulse point on her wrist. Electric currents raced up her arm, made her nipples peak, and zinged down to the spot between her legs. She squeezed her thighs in a futile attempt at relief. Knowing he could scent the moisture gathering there, she almost wished he would cuddle up to her and start nibbling again. But he maintained his self-control. Damn.

  Dawn came too soon. After the little packing she needed to do, she went to the main floor to find Claude waiting for her in the living room. He clasped her hand and kissed it, a faint brush of his lips on her palm. The contrast between his cool grip and the heat of his mouth made her insides vibrate. "I'd better call a cab for you," he said, "however much I'd rather not."

  "I'm already wondering if what I remember from last night really happened." She reclaimed her hand and wrung her fingers together. "When will I see you again?"

  "As soon as I think it's safe."

  "That's no answer!"

  He shrugged. "We can finalize the movie deal and finish the script without meeting face to face. After a few weeks have passed, maybe Philip will cool off enough that I can talk to him, make him see reason."

  "Meanwhile, I wait around for you to decide my future?"

  "Please don't make this so difficult. I want you near me, but I want you alive even more." He reached around to massage the nape of her neck, and she couldn't summon the strength to evade him. "If anything happened to you, I wouldn't jump into a volcano, but my heart would feel charred to ashes."

  "You talk a good line. Prove it."

  His eyebrows arched. "How?"

  "You read my emotions like large print, and yours are a closed book to me. I don't have anything to go on except your word. You say two-way blood sharing creates a telepathic bond, right?"

  "That's right." His voice sounded tight with stress.

  "So let's do it. Let me drink your blood and read your mind."

  Chapter Eleven

  He stepped away from her, spread his hands as if in mute appeal, and lowered his voice. "Eloise, are you quite sure you want this?"

  She planted her clenched fists on her hips. "I don't believe it. You're afraid."

  "Cautious, rather. So far, we haven't passed the point of no return for biochemical dependency. If you taste my blood, we'll be locked into a bond that we couldn't break without pain. From what I've been told, pain like gouging one's heart from one's chest."

  "Told? You mean you don't know?"

  He shook his head. "Not from first-hand experience."

  Somehow she'd assumed he had bonded with his previous donor. A thread of satisfaction trickled through her when she realized he hadn't. "Then you've never done this before?"

  "What, never?" he said with a wry smile. "No, never. Well, hardly ever," he finished the quote from H.M.S. Pinafore. "Only with my adviser, for teaching purposes. I understand bonding with a donor is very different, the most exquisitely intense union one can possibly imagine." Cupping her chin to make her meet his glittering eyes, he said, "Please make sure you choose this freely. Afterward, neither of us will be able to choose with unclouded minds."

  She heaved a deep breath. "Yes, I choose. If you're willing, I'm ready."

  "If that's what you need to make you trust me, I'm willing." He added with a shaky laugh, "Eager." His arm encircled her waist. "We'd better retire to the b
edroom and get comfortable. When we black out from the intensity, we want to be lying down already."

  "You're putting me on, aren't you?" she said as they walked upstairs. "Will that really happen?"

  "I don't know. We're exploring uncharted territory here. I've heard it can become that powerful, though."

  In his bedroom, she knelt on the satin sheets to watch him light the vanilla-scented candle and undress in its glow. His pale torso looked like a marble sculpture of a Greek god, animated by magic. Towering over her, he twined his fingers through her hair and clasped her to his chest. The slow beat of his heart thundered in her ears. She couldn't resist flicking her tongue out to tease one of his nipples.

  It hardened instantly. Groaning, he convulsively tightened his embrace. Through gritted teeth, he said, "Enough." He eased her onto the mattress. "In this condition, my whole body is hypersensitive. If we want to forge the bond, we'd better do it before I forget why we're here." He stripped off her shirt and bra with rapid movements, as if he feared getting distracted. With his help, she wiggled out of the rest of her clothes. "Beautiful." His voice shook.

  "You have a vivid imagination."

  "When you see yourself through my eyes, you'll understand." He stretched out so that they reclined side by side, facing each other. "Ready?"

  She nodded, snuggling closer to him. Her nipples grazed his chest, and his cool thighs pressed against hers. The tip of his quiescent organ brushed the curls on her mound. Warmth spread through her lower abdomen and pooled between her legs.

  Claude turned his head to bite his own shoulder. With a hand on the back of her head, he urged her toward the half-inch slash. She hesitantly licked the blood that oozed from it. His body spasmed, his arms tightening around her.

  "Yes," he hissed. "Don't stop."

  She clamped her mouth onto the wound and sucked. It tasted salty and metallic, like the heated-iron scent of his skin. A low growl thrummed in his throat. No, she thought, more like a purr.