by Tamsin Baker
Too late. The head of his organ finds my channel entrance and he thrusts hard and fast, just like I asked of him. The pain leaches through my body in an unexpected wave. At my muffled shriek he stills instantly. “What the…you’re…a virgin?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Why didn’t—”
“Probably should have mentioned it, huh?”
“Yes.” His teeth are gritted, the fangs hanging down over his bottom lip, and the rictus of concentration on his face is testament to the control it must be taking him to remain still. “Probably should have.”
“Well, now that you’re in, so to speak…”
“I am definitely in.”
The initial pain has receded, and I wiggle my hips experimentally. He groans above me, the sound heartfelt. “Don’t do that, little one, unless you want to finish this fully.”
If I was capable of rolling my eyes in this moment, I would. How much more obvious does a girl need to be? Now that the pain has ebbed, the sensation of fullness rises. He’s so big. How is it possible for my body to house all of those magnificent inches? The pressure in what feels like every part of my belly increases the pleasurable ache between my legs. I will scream if he withdraws now.
“Of course, I want to bloody well finish it. Do it, Luc. I dare you.”
His groan morphs into a yell and he thrusts again, only this time it is desire that blasts through my system rather than pain. I clutch at his perfectly shaped butt, urging him closer, deeper and faster. He complies, ratcheting up the rhythm until nothing exists but the relentless bang, bang, bang into my receptive body. I lift my legs to wrap them around his hips as tightly as my arms around his chest. It feels right, clinging to him like a limpet, urging him deeper again. My breath rasps noisily as he rides my body, and I gasp and moan and beg for him to finish.
“Aleah, I can’t do this…I can’t wait any—”
“Come!” I shout the word as loudly as it is possible for me to do with my faulty voice. He does, letting loose with a roar and emptying into me with a rush of what feels like liquid heat somewhere deep inside my womb. The pumping motion, the slick wetness, the sound of his moaning voice and my continued gasps as our bodies slap, slap, slap against each other—all of these things together tip me over the edge once again. Only this time, the orgasm starts from deep within and is one thousand times more powerful than the first.
I scream and lose myself in the myriad of sensation, bucking and moaning beneath him until there’s nothing left but this. Luc and I, together. As one. Eventually, after what seems like aeons, I drift back to the here and now. He strokes my cheek and stares at me with what appears to be dazed confusion.
“What?” He’s still seated inside me. It’s ridiculous in this moment to be embarrassed by his intent scrutiny, but I am.
“Nothing. Just…taking in your beauty.”
“Oh. Well, thanks.” Luc is nothing like I expected. Joy rises in me. Perhaps I did make the right decision to finally give up my long-held virginity to this man. Perhaps I should listen to gut instinct more often.
“You always smell like honey. Sweet and pure. I love it.”
“Well, thank you. Again. The bees are my passion. I guess I just carry their scent with me wherever I go.”
“And it is delectable.” His voice is almost a purr and my toes curl in response. “So subtle as to be almost not there. Divine. It gets inside my head until I can’t think properly.”
“Oh. Is that a good thing?”
“Depends on the circumstances of the moment and whether I need to keep my wits about me, I suppose. Right now, it’s a very good thing.” His free hand traces lazy patterns across my naked breasts and then drifts downward to explore between my legs where our bodies still remain joined.
I can’t help the surprised puff of breath that escapes. Seems I’ve not had enough of Luc. His caress intensifies, feather-light and yet insistent, until the ache in my clit reaches unbearable levels.
His hand movements quicken and a fingertip slides past my clit to explore the wetness of my seam that still holds his own organ captive. A low rumble starts up in his chest.
“Yes. Oh! You really do have very skilful…fingers.” Shivers run through me and the desire seats completely in the region he’s exploring. My lady parts are heavy and full and achy.
“I do.” He shifts suddenly, rolling sideways and taking me over with him until he’s lying on his back and I have no choice but to sit straddling his hips. His erection is once again at full mast; I feel its length and girth deep inside, pushing at the walls of my channel. I rock gently back and forth, experimenting a little, and we both release a low moan in unison.
Well, that works. That works very nicely, indeed.
“And you have a very skilful…body.”
His words are thick and his captivating eyes are half-closed as he urges my hips to continue their leisurely sway. His fangs are out and their sharp whiteness against his darker lips doesn’t scare me as much as it did when I first caught a glimpse of the predator on my doorstep.
I lean forward and press my lips to his, exploring a little and swiping the toothy protrusions with my tongue, all the while keeping my hip movement going, back and forth, as my clit enjoys its own pleasure against his groin.
The resultant groan from Luc is deep and hoarse. “God, Aleah. I can’t seem to get enough of you.”
“I know that feeling.” This time, our coupling is much slower and gentler. I sink into a hot mess of need and rising desire as time ceases to exist. I cease to exist. There’s only Luc’s mouth beneath mine, unhurried movements deep within my body, and heat that sears like a rush of wildfire along my veins.
When the slow build reaches its crescendo, I lose control with a muted shriek. I climax around him, my channel clenching and unclenching as I shudder and collapse onto his chest. The sensation dims briefly and then reignites, over and over. The ecstasy continues on and on until there’s nothing left but a mighty roar from Luc as he, too, falls over the edge into orgasm. We shudder and shake together until, finally, our bodies sink into an exhausted sleep. This time, coming back from oblivion takes much longer.
When I open my eyes and meet Luc’s gaze, he smiles. There isn’t an ounce of the predator left in that smile. It softens his features, giving the impression of someone younger and less jaded than what I’m used to seeing. I like this new version of Luc.
“I do have one question.” He shifts a lock of hair off my face, the touch like a zap of electricity.
“Mmm?” I think this must be what they call the after-glow. Whatever it is, it’s upon me. I slide off him until we’re lying side by side. I’d be happy to keep drifting in the warmth until we gently sink back into sleep, but he props himself up on one elbow and stares down with an intent look.
“What do you do with all the honey?”
Laughter bubbles up. “That’s your post-sex question?”
“I’m curious.”
“I keep some for myself.” My lips part involuntarily as he traces my jawline, and his eyes narrow in obvious satisfaction at my reaction. “I…oh!” His hand circles my nipples and they instantly pucker in response. Another self-satisfied, narrow-eyed look. “That’s…um…I also create other products like candles and beeswax furniture polish and soap and sell some at…at the local craft shop in town…that feels very nice, Luc.” How is it possible that I can still crave more?
“Good.” He grins, tracing a figure eight around my breasts.
I remember his bite and quickly look down, but cannot see any mark whatsoever around either of my nipples. “You did…bite me, didn’t you? I didn’t imagine that?”
“I most certainly did, and it was delicious.” He flicks one of the peaked nubs playfully. “My saliva has healing properties, if I choose to allow it. I could drink my fill of you every evening and no one would ever see a mark.”
“Hmm.” Not sure how I feel about that. Every night? Might be a bit much. My traitorous clit throbs delight
fully at the thought of Luc and I doing this, every night. It’s as if my body wishes to prove my brain wrong.
He splays his fingers over my ribs. “You have such a beautiful body, Aleah. Perfect in every way. What happened to your voice? Why is it—”
“Defective?”
“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as—”
“I would. And it is. I don’t know.” I shrug, the lifelong frustration eating away at me. “I guess I was just born with a voice that is difficult to hear, especially when it matters most.”
Luc frowns. “Is there anything you can do, though? Even if the dying—or their families—could hear you, there’s nothing a banshee can do to prevent death coming. Is there?”
“I don’t know!” That’s the crux of the matter, and the reason for all of my angst. “What if there is? What if, when people hear my wail, they become more vigilant, or pick up a weapon, or…or… I don’t know. Do something to change the outcome! What if other banshees have the power to change the course of fate?”
“Don’t you know? Can’t you ask…I don’t know…someone?”
“Who? My mother abandoned me as a baby and I was raised by humans alone. The only things I know about anything fae is what I’ve accidentally discovered myself, or what I see or hear in the news!”
I don’t realize I’m wringing my hands until Luc’s come down to cover mine. “I apologize, Aleah.” His touch is cool, not cold, and the instant he cradles my clenched fists I feel butterflies start up in my belly. Light butterfly wings beating gently, lifting my energy and increasing awareness until there is nothing left but him, and me, and our connected hands resting on the coverlet. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Rest now. We’ve expended a lot of energy this evening.”
I release a sigh, trying to let go of questions that have no answer. He’s right. We have expended a lot of energy. I must fall asleep, because when I wake, Luc is leaning up on one elbow watching me. He seems to be making it a habit. “Good morning.” My greeting is automatic. His answering grin is faintly feral, but I’m beginning to enjoy rather than recoil from that hint of the predatory in his nature.
“Almost morning,” he corrects. “I’ll need to leave soon, before dawn breaks.”
Part of me doesn’t want him to leave. “Before you do, where are you from, Luc? I mean, originally? What’s your background?”
One dark brow rises. “Well, you already know I was born in France. I lived in Paris until the age of thirty-six, when I was turned by a Parisian courtesan who I…uh…” The rush of sadness that chokes his voice is unexpected.
“A woman you loved?”
“Yeah. I did love Veronique. I loved her before she turned me, and I loved her until the day she met her true death.” He plays with the edge of the coverlet, until the fidgeting becomes too much. This time it is I who covers his hand to force stillness. Eventually he continues. “I stayed a while with my Maker and her clan, until…”
Pain flares briefly in his features before quickly being masked. “Until?” My prompt is gentle.
“Until her death by stake many years ago.” The admission is stilted. Whoever Veronique was to Luc in life, or after his turning, he clearly loved her dearly. The mention of a stake reminds me I need to replenish the one that normally resides in my belt loop. Luc may have proven not to be a threat, but that doesn’t mean all vamps have suddenly become angels in training.
When I’m in the throes of a death call, my mind is fuzzy and I need the comforting protection a stake can bring. Perhaps I make some kind of move or telling gesture, because he nods toward my dresser. “They’re all in there, ready for you to sheathe and strap back on.”
He pauses and then holds out his hand. “When you do, grip it like this rather than the way you held it when you were facing me.” He does some complicated movement with his fingers, mimicking a slightly different hold for the stake than the one I would normally use. “If you hold it like this, you’ll have more control. It’ll be easier to strike here…” He touches the soft ‘v’ at the base of his throat. “Or the eye, or even into his ear if he’s not facing forward. Or here.” He indicates the groin area. “And whatever you do, Allie, strike to kill. You’ll only have one chance.”
I nod without speaking. I hope it will never come to that, though I’m damn sure not going to leave home without my stakes now. Nor the silver knife.
He studies me for a moment and adds a last piece of advice. “With the current situation, might not hurt to add one of those silver daggers to your arsenal—at least until every rogue is disabled and we’ve gotten to the bottom of what’s really going on.”
“Are you a mind reader, now?”
“Not really. But your fingers clench in a particular way when you’re about to hold your stake. I noticed it that first night—and you just did the same thing again a few moments earlier.”
Heat warms my cheeks. “It’s not you. It’s just…I’m sorry. My experience of vamps is limited and what I do know of them…of your kind…is not pleasant.”
“You said one ruined your life. You were attacked?”
“No. It was my father. He…he died. I was four.”
“Oh, Aleah. I’m so very sorry. It must have been a young vamp, freshly turned, perhaps, and temporarily hunger-driven. Those of us older and more experienced will feed without harming our prey. As you experienced last night.”
Prey. What am I thinking, entertaining such a being in my bed? He sees all human creatures as his prey, obviously including me. My tone is sharper than I intend when I answer. “It wasn’t a young vamp. It was two of them. And one was actually a woman.”
Luc sits up so quickly I don’t even see the movement. His eyes narrow. “A…woman?”
“Yes, that’s what my aunt told me, when I grew old enough to understand.”
“I…see.” There’s a new note of tension in his tone. “If you were four, then this was about twenty-five years ago?”
“Mm hmm. What’s the matter?”
“I’m not sure.” There’s a note in his voice I can’t identify. “Have you always lived in Hatton Grove?”
What a strange question. “No. I was born in the city, and lived in Melbourne with my aunt after my father passed away. It was only after she died too—cancer, sadly—that I decided to get away from…people.”
Luc’s frown creates vertical lines between his dark brows.
“So, you moved here because of your gift?”
A gift. No one has ever suggested my banshee power is anything but a curse. “Yes, it is a little easier out here. I don’t experience every human death. If I did, it would be non-stop agony and I think perhaps that would kill me, too, despite the protection afforded by my fae blood. I do feel the call if it occurs within a certain proximity. I might be isolated from others out here, but where there are less people, there are less death calls.”
Until the rogues came to town.
As if he hears my last thought, Luc swings his legs out of bed. “I need to check out some information. I have to go, Aleah, and I’m not sure when I’ll return.”
Oh. Well. That was over quick. “Sure.” At my core I know he genuinely has to leave, especially given the nature of his job and the threat we’re currently facing in this area. But the sudden need to exit dredges up past not-so-enjoyable memories. It’s been three years since I moved here and started tending my precious bees. Three and a half since my last “almost” hook-up with a man who got to witness first-hand the anguish of a banshee’s death call. We were just about to get hot and heavy when the agony hit.
I will never forget the look of horror and disgust on his face as death came for one of my fellow tenants in the apartment building. “You’re one of those? A supernatural creature? I thought you were like me. Human.”
He spat on me and left, and I couldn’t even muster the energy to wipe off his spittle because I was curled up on the floor of my apartment in the throes of death, wailing softly to myself.
That was not my first experien
ce of speciesism, which is what the blind hatred of anyone or anything not human is called under Accord rules. Back then, though, it was the final catalyst to sell up and move out here where there is less chance to experience the call of the banshee.
Luc finishes dressing and pauses at the door. “I would stay if I could, little one. Our story has only just begun. I will return.”
There’s so much promise in his tone my body instantly heats once again.
Of course, he picks up on it. Why would he not? He’s a vamp with heightened senses. His nostrils flare, as if he can smell my need from all the way across the room.
“Have a shower, Aleah. Wash off the residue of our lovemaking and enjoy all the nuances of sensation that your no-longer-virginal body will now reveal. I will leave a pot of coffee for you downstairs.”
Such a mundane way to finish, and yet he puts so much subtle inference into the words that a shiver runs all the way from my scalp to my toes. Is it because he’s preternatural that my whole body feels energized and full of zing? Is it because of his vampirism, calling to my hybrid blood and speeding up my pulse to breakneck speed?
Or is it as simple as pheromones and nothing at all to do with species? A man and a woman, whose chemistry calls to each other in a way I never knew existed outside of romance books. Whatever it is, I can’t wait for his eventual return.
Chapter Six
My body aches in unfamiliar places and I need to take Luc’s advice and have a hot shower to wash away the remaining traces of mine and the vampire’s coupling. The rush of hot water meanders down my body. What would it be like to have his hands follow the rivulets of moisture over my curves? My nipples harden at the thought, and the nub between my legs swells in anticipation of a caress that I pray might eventuate again.
Even though we spent most of the night making love, it seems my body has still not had enough.
The sun is high in the sky when I finally make my way downstairs and add some bread to the toaster. Where is he sheltering now that it’s full daylight? Is he back at the Royal Hotel, in his presumably daylight-proof room? I know most hotels these days offer rooms specially fitted out for any supernatural clientele, but until now I’d never thought about it in the context of my local pub and eating place. Hopefully he has gone to ground, wherever he might be. Even though it’s mid-winter, the weather has been unseasonably warm and there’s a bite in the sun when it’s out, even for non-vampires like myself.
