“I want to take care of you, Taz. It’s my fault this happened. You weren’t ready, and it was my responsibility to teach you, to protect you, and I failed.”
On the bed he kissed her, gently, tasting, caressing her lips with his. In his mind he told her, “You cannot die. I do not want to go through that again. All those centuries without love and now I have you. Please come back to me, and let me help you. Let me love you.”
He didn’t stop kissing her and eventually felt her respond a little.
“That’s it,” Matthias whispered, kissing her again. “Come back to me, please.”
Her eyes opened, but they were dull, flat, emotionless. She looked at him for a long moment then closed them again, trying to sink back into catatonia.
Matthias felt around in his pockets with one hand, found his pen knife, and opened it. If she was conscious, she would drink. She had to. He nicked the ends of his first and second fingers and squeezed. Small drops of blood oozed from the wounds. He dropped the knife to the table next to the bed.
Shifting position slightly, he pushed his fingers into her mouth, cradling her with his other arm. “You have to live for me. You cannot resist me. I cannot resist you.”
She tried pulling away, but she was too weak to struggle. She hadn’t eaten in nearly forty-eight hours, and with all the energy she expended, he was afraid she’d die if he didn’t do something soon.
Her tongue flicked at his fingers. She tasted then weakly sucked.
He kissed the top of her head. “I know you hurt. It’s okay. We’ll get through it together.”
As she weakly suckled, he tried to ignore how uncomfortably tight his jeans became. She was very weak. As fragile as she was, he was afraid to force her to drink more, wasn’t sure she’d take if it he did.
After twenty minutes she drifted into a deep sleep, his fingers still in her mouth. Her skin looked pinker. He risked searching her mind, saw she was stronger.
He didn’t remove his fingers, squeezing them occasionally to keep the blood moving. Every few minutes he stroked her cheek, and she involuntarily swallowed, like a baby. After a few hours he got up, feeling in her mind she was just deeply asleep and no longer catatonic.
Robertson stood as Matthias quietly closed the door behind him. He’d stationed himself in a chair just outside their bedroom door. “How is she?”
Matthias shook his head. “I wish I knew.”
Robertson watched her while Matthias ate dinner. Then Matthias returned to her, feeling a hundred years older over the past two days, and decided to take a bath to relax. He filled the large, deep spa tub with water and started to get in when he had a thought.
He went to Anastazia and looked in her mind. She was still sleeping but not as deeply. He took the knife into the bath and laid it on the edge of the tub then carefully undressed her and carried her into the bathroom, climbing into the tub with her, cradling her in his arms.
They floated in the warm, deep water. He took the knife and sliced into his fingers again, getting more blood.
With her resting against his chest he held her, murmuring her name over and over as he gently pushed his fingers into her mouth. This time she didn’t pull away, and he felt her latch on, stronger. He took one of her hands and placed it over his, encouraging her to hold on to him. Finally, she did.
He touched her mind, but she was still so frail he was afraid to push her. Over an hour later they were still there, but she was, at least, still feeding and responding.
When he felt her teeth on his fingers as the blood slowed, he wrapped his arms tightly around her.
“Anastazia,” he commanded, “you must come back to me. Now.” Like that she was there, gasping, shuddering.
He turned her to face him and held her tightly against him as a low-pitched cry escaped her. Her eyes wide as the events flooded back, she took a deep shuddering breath and moaned in despair and shame.
“Oh, Matthias—”
“It’s okay. Let it out.”
She clutched him, wailing, her pain so deep he knew it felt, to her, like it had no bottom.
The bathroom door opened, and Robertson stuck his head in. Matthias shook his head, and Robertson disappeared, knowing Matthias was the only one who could help her now.
She cried herself hoarse, resting her head against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” she moaned. “How can you ever forgive me?”
“I forgive you because I love you. I just hope you can forgive me for not protecting you.”
She sobbed against his shoulder, and he knew she would eventually be okay, even if she didn’t think so. He reached over and ran more warm water, not letting go of her. After a while she quieted, her eyes open and staring at the ring on her hand.
“I couldn’t stop,” she whispered. “I wanted to kill Caroline. And then you almost…because of me.”
He kissed her forehead. “No. It’s not your fault.”
With the water supporting them, he gathered her to him, trailed kisses down her neck and over her breasts. His lips settled first on one breast, teasing her, eventually drawing content sighs from her, and then the other. She relaxed against him, her breath quickening.
“It’s not your fault,” he repeated, one hand sliding between her legs. He kissed her, his tongue exploring her lips and relief flooding his heart when she responded, moaning into his mouth while his fingers stroked her clit and pussy.
He rolled onto his back, pulling her to him. His cock easily slipped inside her. He held still, her legs wrapped around his waist, both of them weightless in the water. He kissed her, touching her mind again.
“I am yours, forever, Anastazia. I will never leave you unless you tell me to go.”
She kissed him back then rolled her hips against him, impaling herself even more deeply on his cock.
“Please take me, Matthias.”
He did. He grabbed her hips and fucked her, hard, fast, furiously, wanting to show her how much he loved her. Wanting to come deep inside her pussy, to become a part of her.
She met every thrust, her swollen clit rubbing against him and making her come first. He held back despite his aching cock and balls wanting to explode. He wanted more from her.
Taz came again, moaning his name as her head dropped to his shoulder.
“One more, love,” he whispered. “Give it to me.”
Her nails raked down his back, adding a delicious hint of pain to his building release.
Then he felt her climax again, her pussy squeezing him. “That’s it, baby.” He finally let go, and together they moaned, trembling, eventually falling still and sinking deeper into the water.
He wrapped his arms tightly around her. “I’ve got you, love,” he whispered. “I promise, I’ll never let you go.”
* * * *
It took Matthias a couple of days to fully coax Taz out of her shell. She didn’t want to see anyone, not even Robertson. Matthias brought all her meals to her, held her, talked with her. Three days later, he woke to find her sitting by the bedroom window and staring out at the rose garden.
He went to her, kneeling at her feet and taking her hands. “Are you okay?”
She smiled, careworn and full of regret. “Not yet, but I think I will be. One day.”
“I’m sorry, Taz. I’m so sorry it happened like this.”
“I know, Matthias. I’m sorry, too.”
He kissed her right hand, where Rafe’s ring was warm against her skin. He knew she would never take it off, a constant reminder of her need to control who she was becoming. “Stay here.”
Matthias went to the dresser, took something out, and then returned and knelt beside her.
He held her left hand and slipped the ring on her finger. It was a gold band with diamonds and amethyst channel set and twined around a diamond solitaire. Around the band were tiny engraved symbols in a language she couldn’t read.
“I loved Rafe,” Matthias said with a playful smile, “but I admit I’m jealous his ring was on your hand before
mine.”
She smiled, looking at it. “What does it say?”
“‘I am my Beloved’s, and my Beloved is mine.’”
“That’s beautiful.”
“Song of Solomon.” He smiled, and the symbolic irony wasn’t lost on her. Vampires quoting the Bible. “Will you marry me?”
She nodded, throwing her arms around him. After they took a shower, she followed him downstairs to eat.
* * * *
“I have something else for you,” Matthias said after breakfast. “A present I’ve been wanting to give you for a while.”
“What is it?”
He pushed back from the table and stood, holding his hand out to her. She took it, and he hooked his arm through hers. They walked outside and across the yard to the detached garage, where she knew he kept several other cars, separate from the ones garaged at the house.
Robertson and Albert followed. Matthias stopped before one of the closed garage bays. Robertson, she noted, held a remote control. Matthias stood behind her and gently put his hands over her eyes.
“Okay,” Matthias said.
She heard the door swing open, and then Matthias whispered in her ear, “I will give you anything you wish, my love. Anything within my power to give you.” Then he removed his hands.
In the garage was a 1965 Mustang coupe. Red.
Her heart skipped. “It looks like the one my dad used to have,” she said, walking into the garage and running her hand over the car.
She stooped down to look in the open driver’s side window. That was when she saw it—the small scratch in the center of the steering wheel, on the emblem. She remembered that scratch because she accidentally put it there with the key, remembered feeling horrible about doing it, when she was seventeen.
Turning, she saw Matthias’ proud smile. “Is it?”
Matthias nodded while Robertson beamed. “I told him when your dad wanted to sell it,” Robertson said. “He bought it, wanted to keep it for you.”
She felt the tears rolling down her face. Matthias put his arms around her. “I thought maybe you might want it, one day. If not, I knew I did.”
She squeezed him tightly, beyond words, knowing she could never love anyone as much as she loved that man at that moment in time.
When she wiped her eyes and regained her composure, she saw the blue ’68 in the next bay, back from California. Realization struck. “I asked you how long you’d owned it, and you said a few years.”
He shrugged.
“You bought it new, didn’t you?”
“How was I supposed to tell you that back then? It was the first one Bill Currie Ford received that year, down in Tampa. I paid extra for the privilege, just to have it.”
They went for a long drive in the ’65, Taz behind the wheel, and ended up in Tarpon Springs. He enjoyed giving her a tour of the quaint town. He took her to the Plaka Restaurant, a small Greek restaurant with excellent food. He even knew the owners, and she was welcomed like family.
It was a good feeling, something she never experienced before. Belonging.
She offered Matthias the keys for the return trip.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I trust you.”
She rested her hand on his thigh as they returned to his home. “When do we go back to LA?” she asked. “I know we have to go to London, to the Tribunal. But after that, what then?”
“I wanted to talk to you about that.”
“What?”
He glanced at her. “Would you mind staying here? Live here in Florida?”
“But you live in LA.”
“No. I was only out there to be close to you. I prefer it here. This is my home. If you want to live out there, we will. I will follow you wherever you wish to go.”
She watched the scenery through the windshield. It was different here in Florida than in California. She’d only been here a few times before this. And that was to Miami, which she heard was as different from most of Florida as LA was from California. It wasn’t like she had family or a bunch of friends tying her to the West Coast. Robertson was here. Matthias was here.
“If I don’t like it here?”
“Then we’ll be on the jet as soon as it takes us to pack.”
She considered it. “Okay. I’d like to see what it’s like then. Let’s stay here.”
He smiled. She knew he was happy but sensed he would do anything she asked no matter what it was. That scared and thrilled her.
* * * *
That night in bed, she snuggled close to him. “I’ve wanted to ask about your family, your parents.” She didn’t want to ask about his wife or children yet.
Did he tense a little?
“I had no siblings. My father was killed early in the Spanish Inquisition. My mother was killed years before, when I was a baby, during a fire. I don’t even remember her.”
“Were they both…”
“Of the line? Yes. I’ve often thought my father’s heart and soul died long before his body did, when he lost my mother.”
“Your grandparents?
“My mother’s parents died before I was born. I don’t remember much of what my father said about them. My father’s mother didn’t have as much of the line in her. She died from the Plague a few hundred years ago.”
“And your grandfather? How did he die?”
Matthias looked at her and swallowed hard. “I meant to tell you, but with all the confusion I forgot. He’s coming for a visit next week.”
THE END
WWW.TYMBERDALTON.COM
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tymber Dalton lives in southwest Florida with her husband (aka “The World’s Best Husband™”), son, and too many pets. She loves to hear from readers! Please feel free to drop by her website and sign up for her newsletter to keep abreast of the latest news, views, snarkage, and releases. (Don’t forget to look up her writing alter egos Lesli Richardson, Tessa Monroe, and Macy Largo!)
www.tymberdalton.com
www.facebook.com/tymberdalton
Also by Tymber Dalton
Ménage Amour: Deep Space Mission Corps 1: Love at First Bight
Ménage Amour: Deep Space Mission Corps 2:Bightmares
For all other titles, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/tymber-dalton
For titles by Tymber Dalton
writing as Lesli Richardson
www.bookstrand.com/lesli-richardson
For titles by Tymber Dalton
writing as Tessa Monroe
www.bookstrand.com/tessa-monroe
For titles by Tymber Dalton
writing as Macy Largo
www.bookstrand.com/macy-largo
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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Dalton, Tymber - Love and Brimstone [Brimstone Vampires 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 28
