Bewitching the Vampire

by Selena Illyria

  She rocked her pelvis against his, meeting his movements. It was awkward at first, but then they found their rhythm. Their mouths slipped and grasped each other as he tried to claim her lips.

  “Touch yourself, honey. Come for me,” he urged. Joe wanted to watch her as the pleasure overtook her.

  She unwound one arm and reached between them to work her clit. He could feel the play of her fingers on his cock as he slipped in and out of her. It added to his pleasure. His balls tightened and pulled up into his body as the familiar zing of energy rushed through him. The surge of pleasure ran up from his toes, along his legs, up his spine, around his head, and back down.

  “Come with me, Joe. Mark me.” She lowered her head and buried her teeth in his neck.

  A sharp stab of pain rushed through him. With a growl, he followed her example, sinking his fangs into her shoulder. She bucked in his arms as his hips worked harder. The sound of wet flesh mingled with their heartbeats as the arousal increased to fever pitch, threatening to consume him. The burst of fire in his gut consumed his body as he pumped his hips, spurting his seed deep in her womb. In the most primal way possible, she was his.

  He lifted his head, blood dripping down his chin to splatter his chest and smear her breasts. He kept thrusting until his balls were empty and her pussy stopped contracting around his shaft. He rested his forehead against hers. Although he had the urge to, he didn’t kiss her. She wasn’t a vampire and therefore wouldn’t enjoy the taste of blood on his lips.

  “Better feed me or I may not live through another round with you.” She gave him a small smile. Amusement filled her eyes.

  He turned, with her in his arms, and began to make his way to the kitchen, only to stop as his jeans tried to slide further down his legs.

  “Damn it.”

  She giggled. “Better put me down.”

  He lowered her to the ground with care.

  She swayed on her feet. He held out his hands, ready to catch her if she fell. Self-loathing filled him as he waited to see how the blood loss would affect her. Her gaze became unfocused, and for a second her skin became ashen. Crimson spots appeared on her cheeks. She swallowed. The sound was like a shotgun in his ear. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He opened his mouth to apologize.

  “Better make that a big meal. And take off or pull up your pants.” Her gaze darted away to the wall behind him and the red patches on her cheeks grew in size.

  There was a whiff of embarrassment coming from her, that light scent of over-sweetness. He reached out, grasped her chin, and turned her face to look at him. “What’s wrong?” He had to know before he took her to the kitchen.

  “Need to sit or I’ll keel over,” she whispered. Her embarrassment increased.

  “Is that it? Not what we did?” He prayed that she wouldn’t look on what happened as some sort of shame. He wasn’t proud of his loss of control, but wouldn’t take anything back for the world. “I won’t apologize.”

  She shook her head, only to lift her hand and place it against her forehead.

  “We can’t keep talking about this.” He bent down and undid his shoelaces and then yanked off his boots and socks. Without waiting for her to respond, he scooped her up in his arms and strode down the hallway toward the back of the house. It didn’t matter that both of them were naked and first light was only a few hours away. He wanted her fed and another round before he fell under the veil.

  He passed Flynn in the hall on the way to the kitchen, his arms laden with chips. The gargoyle nodded but made no comment.

  Bridget turned her head and buried her face in Joe’s shoulder. He paused and bent his head to kiss the top of hers. “No worries. He won’t say anything.”

  “Not that. Wanted to throw up.” Her voice was muffled and filled with disgust.

  He gave her another peck and pushed through the swinging double doors. He pulled out a chair with his foot and settled her down in it before heading over to the fridge. The cool air in the house raised goose bumps on his flesh. He padded over the smooth wooden floor, yanked open the fridge door, and looked around for something she could eat. He pulled out some eggs and leftover steak.

  “What is that?” Her voice sounded distant and lost in a yawn.

  “That tired?”

  “Blood loss will do that to you. Not a lot but yeah, tired.” She gave him a loud yawn.

  “I’m making scrambled eggs with steak. Or would you like a true breakfast with bacon and all the fixins?” He would love to make her a full-on meal. Maybe after this, she’d accept lunch with him or even dinner.

  He reached out with his abilities. Her heartbeat was fast but not to the point where he needed to panic; her breathing was slow but even, and her body heat was low but not too low. He put on some coffee and got to work. He pulled out some olive oil from a cabinet, turned on the stove, put a pan on the heat, and drizzled the oil onto the cool metal surface. While he waited for the metal to heat, he cracked eggs and chopped up the steak, mixed them together, and then poured them into a frying pan.

  The mixture sizzled. He opened a drawer and grabbed a wooden spoon to stir the food. The ease of cooking in front of her felt right. Even with the distance between them, she didn’t seem that far away. He even heard when her stomach growled.

  “Don’t you have a protein shake or something around here? What do you give your blood donors?”

  The chair scraped along the floor but Joe didn’t hear her rise. He glanced over his shoulder to look at her. She had her head down on the tabletop again. A soft snore came from her. He grinned.

  She jerked her head up and wiped her mouth. “I’m awake. Better get the grub on, blood sucker.”

  Her stomach gave another rumble. The scent of cooking food wafted into the air along with the bitter sweetness of coffee. He grabbed his favorite mug—the one with the picture of Batman on it—and filled it. Then he turned off the stove and carried her meal and drink to her.

  He didn’t need to eat anything himself, nor was he hungry. Her blood burned through his body. He could feel her magic burning in his veins. The thirst was gone; no aftertaste or residual need for another lick or suck. Nothing. Her blood was unlike any other he ever tasted.

  He didn’t try to understand it. Not now. He just watched her shovel food into her mouth, not even trying to impress him with manners or etiquette. A tendril of hair fell across her cheek. Without thinking, he reached over and brushed it away, savoring the tingling sensation and warmth on his fingertips at the contact.

  “So beautiful,” he whispered.

  His gazed roamed over her body, taking in the dips and curves she usually hid behind her corsets and jackets and attitude. “I prefer you like this.”

  “Naked?” She glanced at him out of the side of her eyes.

  “Well, yes.” He reached out and slipped a finger along her shoulder, savoring the silky warmth of her skin. “But that wasn’t what I was talking about. I like you without your armor.”

  She shrugged. “I have to be on my guard around you. Around everyone.”

  “I can understand that. Trust is a luxury I can’t normally afford either. Why you? The witch community has always seemed close, with strong bonds.”

  “Witches have different abilities. We don’t normally reveal them to each other, much less to outsiders, for fear that people will take advantage of them or use them against us.” She looked at him, a silent demand in her eyes.

  He nodded. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.” And he wouldn’t. He felt honored that she’d even consider telling him her power.

  She put down her fork and shifted in her seat. “Witches can use spells to amplify our abilities, and with a familiar our power is multiplied. They allow us to focus our energy and increase the strength of incantations, but they also anchor us in the present so we don’t lose ourselves.” She licked her lips and folded her hands in her lap.

  He reached over and rubbed her back, trying to give her comfort through touch. “It’s okay. I promise.”

  �
��I’m an allelemental, which means I can pull from all the elements and bend them to my will. It’s not an easy thing, and if I let down my guard, I could lose control. I have to do an energy dump every day or it could overwhelm me.” She picked up her fork again and began to eat. “I usually use my familiar, Mysta, for that.”

  “But what about today? How can you do the energy dump without your familiar?” Even as he asked the question, he knew the answer. “You can use sex if your familiar isn’t on hand, can’t you?”

  She nodded, giving him a small chuckle. “I use magic to track my targets and get things done. That’s why we don’t have a specific niche we fall into. Allelementals can do it all.”

  Joe had heard the stories when he’d first arrived in town. Bridget was from one of the most powerful houses of magic and yet she’d left her family’s magical law firm to start her own do-it-all business, tracking down rogue elements, creating spells, being a go-between for negotiating parties—she handled it all. They also did security on the fly if need be. Each of the people involved in Bridget’s business owned a slice of it and had a say. In most para communities, familiars were considered second-class citizens, and yet Bridget even gave her cat familiar a voice in how things were done. This was unheard of. His woman—he couldn’t think of her in any other way—filled him with pride.

  “You’ve done well for yourself.” He knew his praise didn’t matter but it had to be said.

  She rewarded him with a smile. “Thanks. Some days are better than others, but that’s what happens when you go into business for yourself. What exactly do you do? I never really understood what a liege did other than keep the flock in line.”

  He laughed at that description. “We don’t just keep things on track. We make sure to squash trouble before it begins. We hear problems and settle differences, make new laws, rules, regulations. I go where trouble is or where there needs to be law and order. The ruling vampire council sends us where they need us to be.”

  Bridget sat in silence for a while, and then looked him in the eye. “Is Joe your real name?”

  Her question caught him off guard. For a second he wasn’t sure how to answer that. After a pause, he said, “When a vampire is made, we leave behind the names we were born with and take the name of the house we’re revived into.” He paused again to think about what he could say, how far he could go with her. “This is a delicate subject that doesn’t get talked about outside of vampire families.”

  She nodded. “I get it. Witches don’t want to talk too much about what goes on with us either.”

  “I’m glad you understand that. Joe is not my real name, but it’s what I go by.” He stopped, unsure whether he wanted to give her his birth name. That was a precious thing to him, something that tied him to that brief time when he was a living, breathing human being.

  She reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. “You don’t have to tell me, but I’m glad you let me in this far.”

  Frustration rose inside of him, batting back the slow simmer of arousal. He gritted his teeth and tried to figure out what to say next. She was so understanding. He hated the walls and mysteries between them as much as he hated not being able to tell her his true name.

  “Fuck it all. My real name is Nathan. I was born in Chicago around the time of the abolitionist movement. Mom was teetotaler. Dad worked at whatever job he could, even running moonshine for the mob.” He couldn’t help but smile at the memory of his parents.

  “Despite all the arrests, my parents got along, so long as they didn’t discuss what my dad did or how he brought in money. And mom didn’t comment on his drinking.” Sadness tugged at him. “She died of cancer and dad died at the hands of a mobster who thought he was skimming off the top. That was when I met my maker. He was what the mob feared so they cut a wide swath to avoid him. All I knew was that I wanted to be him. And so he took me on as his apprentice until he felt I was old enough to focus my anger properly.”

  “Heh, you? Angry? Nah.” She shook her head, a cheeky grin on her face. “Remember the first time we met?”

  A rush of heat lit up his face. “I did apologize for that.”

  She waved it away with the hand holding the fork. “Yeah, yeah. First time in town, pissed off with the vampire who tried to usurp your place. Understandable.”

  He remembered arriving at the manse that was supposed to belong to him, only to find the old vampire’s lackey living it up there, throwing wild parties, holding lavish dinners, spending money that was rightfully Joe’s. It hadn’t been a hardship to throw the guy out; what had been difficult had been meeting Bridget under those circumstances. He tried to imagine himself as she had seen him, fangs fully extended, rage on his face, with his gargoyle watchers holding him back from ripping the disrespectful ass’s face off. He had vowed never to act like that again. He hadn’t had any more trouble after that.

  He’d sent flowers to Bridget in apology, only to have them sent back. She explained in a note that she was allergic to that variety. Horrified, he’d sent her chocolates instead. That had gone down better. After that, he’d sent Matthias to find out what flowers she liked. Once that information had been procured, he’d sent her two dozen to make sure she understood the apology.

  “Why did you start avoiding me after I sent you those flowers?” he asked ruefully.

  “Let me ask you something instead.” Patches of red appeared on her cheeks and she squirmed in her seat. “Did you start having dreams about me after we met?”

  The question came out of left field. All he could do was stare at her. He’d told no one about those dreams. He took a moment to compose his thoughts. Dreaming of someone you’d just met was part of vampire lore. It was said this was your human soul trying to find its mate. He’d never put any credence in these ideas, but now he had to rethink that notion.

  “Well, yes.” He decided honesty was the best policy in this case. “You too? How, um, explicit were they? Did you feel things?” Normally he’d be frank with her, but he didn’t want to push her away by going too far.

  “How explicit were yours?” she countered.

  He chuckled. “Want a run down? I came when I woke up. I could feel your mouth around my cock, your tongue on my balls, your tits scraping down my chest and stomach. I could taste your cream on my lips, feel the dampness of your slit against my mouth. I could still feel your pussy around my dick, squeezing tight. I remember the burning sensation of your nails on my back. Need more?”

  Her lust perfumed the air. His body responded in kind, his shaft hardening and arousal burning its way through his veins. He could feel his fangs pulsing and lengthening all over again. Shit. He tried to shove it back down but it refused to be denied. A wave of fire flared in his gums and his teeth grew in size and length until they poked out of his mouth and pricked his bottom lip.

  She chuckled at him. “Ready for another round?”

  He eyed her plate. “The question is are you ready?” He had to make sure she wasn’t feeling the effects of blood loss. No matter what was going on with him, she needed to be safe and healthy.

  “I’m good. And we can take this conversation about dreams into the bed. Maybe demonstrate some of what we did?” She raised an eyebrow. Her eyes were darkened pools of lust.

  His stomach tightened and his cock jerked. “Minx.”

  She shrugged and put the last of the egg-and-steak mixture into her mouth before downing the rest of her orange juice. “Clean plate. But, um…do you have a toothbrush I can use?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, you can use mine.”

  She blinked.

  “Don’t read anything into it, okay? It’s the only one available, unless you want to use Matthias’s or Flynn’s?” He watched her features scrunch up in disgust.

  “Fine, yours it is. Where…?” She looked around.

  He pushed his chair back and grabbed her hand, pulling her up to her feet. He led her out of the room, resisting the urge to carry her or think about how ridiculous his bobbing cock looked w
hile he was walking. He could only hope that she didn’t notice it. He could also hope that neither of his light guardians stumbled upon the scene. Though he was their master, they were friendly enough he could be ribbed by them.

  He and Bridget managed to get to his bedroom easily enough. Once there, he pointed out where she’d find the bathroom and settled onto the bed. This was the first time he’d brought a woman into his private sanctuary. His bedroom was just that—a place for his bed, clothes, and sex toys. He had an altogether separate room for sex if the need arose. He had designed it that way so he could keep his privacy. Neither room got used much. When dawn approached, he normally just went straight to his warded room on the third floor.

  He looked around the room. There was the massive king-size bed with a large head and footboards with slats that would allow him to bind her to the bed…if she wanted him to. He had a closet, a highboy armoire, a chest of drawers, and two nightstands. There was also a plasma television set against the far wall across from the bed along with a deep, plush Persian rug. His interior decorator had done a good job.

  He sat down on the bed to test out the mattress’s firmness. What if it was too hard for her? He doubted she’d like to test the softness of his light bed cushions. The playroom had a bed, but it wasn’t big like this one.

  His worries evaporated as he sank into the mattress. He let out a sigh and lay back. It was like lying on a cloud, but there was enough substance to it to get traction. Perfect.

  He heard her moving around the bathroom. The water turned off and on and the drawer shut with a thud. He sat up when he heard the door open and she appeared in the entryway.

  “Sorry for the wait. I cleaned up a bit.” Her gaze bounced around the room. “Heh, no dust. Who do you have cleaning for you? Do you even use this room? I clean my house as best I can, but I’m loath to let someone in to dust and such. They could try to reorganize my library and workroom. I can’t have that.”