by Nia K. Foxx
“You know what this means?”
“What?” She cleared her throat, barely able to think.
“You are now an official member of the mile high club.”
***
They had little chance to straighten their clothes before the plane touched down. A car awaited their arrival on the private strip.
“Perhaps we should freshen up before continuing our day,” he suggested.
“Sounds nice,” she agreed. “But since I doubt this thing comes equipped with a built in bath the chances of that are slim to none.”
“Let me worry about that.” He eased the car into motion.
Paris was just as she’d remembered from a previous visit, its aged architecture holding an appeal which transcended current building fads. It was midday and the streets were crowded with both tourists and natives going about their weekend activities. A mixture of languages including French, German and English wafted in through the windows as she people watched. Traffic flowed slowly but she didn’t care in this foreign paradise.
Lorn maneuvered steadily through the city. Fatima recognized the Louvres Les Halles district from a city tour she couldn’t pass up on her last visit. If memory served her correctly, Notre Dame wasn’t too far away. Perhaps she could convince Lorn to take her on a visit if it fit into his plans. They slowed in front of one of the city’s famous five-star hotels.
“What are we doing here?” she queried with raised eyebrows.
“You want to freshen up, don’t you?” It was a statement more than a question, one she didn’t get a chance to respond to because he’d already bounded from the car. A waiting valet gently opened her door.
“Shall we?” Lorn crooked his arm for her to hook her own through.
Fatima caught her breath as they walked into the impressive lobby, with its vaulted ceilings and magnificent archways leading to various areas of the structure.
“Monsieur De LaRue!” A rather short, well-dressed black man approached them. The smile on his face showed genuine fondness.
“Henri, bon après midi, mon amie,” Lorn returned with just as much enthusiasm. “I was told you would be off today.”
“Oui, but I heard you were due in and I didn’t want to miss the opportunity. You come in so seldom,” he continued in French.
They exchanged a warm hug common among Europeans, something rarely seen between men in the States.
“I have been very busy,” Lorn apologized.
The man shook his head, holding his hands up to ward off any further explanation. “No need. Your rooms have been prepared per you usual specification.”
“Thank you, Henri. You are an invaluable asset.”
The man merely nodded his acceptance.
“I’d like you to meet Dr. Fatima Smith, a very special friend of mine from the States,” Lorn introduced, one arm wrapped affectionately around her waist, leaving no doubt as to their actual acquaintance.
“It is very nice to meet you, Dr. Smith,” Henri began, openly acknowledging her for the first time.
“Fatima, please.”
“I hope your stay with us is a pleasant one.”
“I’m sure it will be.”
“Please do not hesitate to call on me or any of the staff should you require the slightest thing,” he offered.
“Thank you,” Fatima said, automatically liking this man.
“How are your wife and daughter?” Lorn inquired.
At his question she couldn’t help but wonder exactly how often he’d come into the hotel in the past, and with whom. It was obvious the man knew him beyond an occasional guest. Had he thought to impress her with the fancy hotel he frequented with his other women?
“Very well, thank you. Michelle came through her operation without a complication. She loved the flowers you sent.”
“Good. I only wish there was something else I could do.”
“Nonsense, you have done more for me and my family than I could ever thank you for.”
“I’m glad to hear all is well. I apologize, but we have reservations later.”
“Of course, of course, I shouldn’t have taken so much of your time.”
“You didn’t at all. I will talk with you before we leave,” Lorn promised.
“He was very nice,” she commented as he led her to a set of private elevators.
“Yes, I think so.”
“You two must go way back for you to send flowers to his wife.”
“We do. He’s the hotel’s manager. His wife had breast cancer and had to have one removed. Fortunately, the cancer hadn’t spread.”
“How horrible for them,” she said sincerely.
“Yes, but not as bad as it could have been.”
She nodded at the truth of this statement, reminded of her father’s battle with sickle cell before his inevitable death.
“Henri said you haven’t been here in a while. I take it at one point you were a frequent guest?” she questioned, wanting to put some distance between them while she learned about what was sure to be a long list of women who had taken the same elevator ride with him.
“I stay here when I have business in the city,” he admitted, pulling her close, both arms wrapping securely around her waist to keep her in place.
Business, my foot! She thought.
“Lorn, you don’t have to pretend for me. I know you’re a very virile man with a strong sexual appetite. I’d just prefer not to stay where you’ve entertained your other women,” she said honestly.
“I do not entertain women here.”
“It’s okay, really. We had lives before each other and we’ll have them after this is over. I’d just…” Her last words trailed off as he abruptly turned her to face him.
“Let’s get some things straight. First, I’ve never claimed to be a saint. I’ve had my share of affairs, but I swear on all that’s sacred I’ve never brought another woman here. Secondly, now you are in my life I will be damned if I let you go. You are all the woman I need, and I would suggest you not even allude to another man in your future. I am it.” He spoke with such finality.
Within seconds she was pressed against one metal wall and bombarded with the most demanding kiss. She felt as if a flock of butterflies had taken up permanent residence in her belly as she responded to his probing mouth like an addict, automatically melting into his arms.
“We’re here,” he stated after reluctantly pulling away from her lips.
He reached to press a security code on the keypad. In response the doors swished open, granting them access to the open sitting room of the penthouse.
The room was done in muted grays and blues. Although its potential was understated by the drab colors, Fatima was taken in by the sheer expanse of the space. Several sitting chairs, one love seat and a large coffee table were its only true furnishings. On the walls were several abstract pieces to soften the room’s masculine décor.
Lorn led her on a brief tour around the front rooms before moving down a spacious hall, pointing out each room as he went. She counted a kitchen, three bedrooms, office, TV room and two baths. Unlike the sitting room, the others were decorated in rich golds, burgundies or greens. They were both functional and comfortable.
“I’m sure the guests who stay here must think this is the perfect home away from home.”
“No one stays here but me, although I’m told the other suites and rooms are very comfortable.”
“Well, it doesn’t seem sensible to hold an entire penthouse for one guest who isn’t in residence often,” she stated truthfully,
“It does when the guest is the owner.”
She should have seen the answer coming. It explained why the manager would bother to come in on his off day, why Lorn knew such intimate details about the man’s family. She really needed to remember to expect the unexpected with someone like him.
“Does it bother you?” he asked at her silence.
“No, of course not… it’s just I’m not accustomed to this.”
; “Don’t worry, you have nothing but time to learn. Come, you should have your shower. We still have so much to do today.”
She didn’t argue.
Despite the temptation they opted to take separate showers or risk forgetting the day’s plans. An hour later, they were clean and dressed in freshly laundered clothes courtesy of the hotel’s laundry service. In what was known as the Haute Couture district they decided to walk. Like teenagers they tackled the streets hand in hand. She surveyed the people, noting the streets seemed even more crowded than before, or at least noisier. At one point the sounds became so overwhelming she paused in their stroll, pressing index fingers over the opening of her ears. It did little to help.
“Tune it out,” Lorn whispered to her. “Focus on the sound of my voice, nothing else. Imagine we are the only ones here.”
She did without question, focusing only on him. At first the noise seemed even louder but eventually became a tolerable hum.
“Better?” he asked. When she nodded he continued their walk without addressing the matter further.
How had he done that? she wondered.
While in the district of Rue du Faubourg Sait-Honore he led her from one shop to the next, encouraging her to try on anything catching her eye. Initially she’d protested his spending the exorbitant prices charged in the upscale boutiques, but after numerous rounds of word play she finally gave in to his insistence.
“Enough.” She called their spree to a halt outside Cartier, where he’d just spent the equivalent of a year’s salary on a tennis bracelet for her. “Just because we’re sleeping together doesn’t mean you have to do this,” she said for his ears only.
“I didn’t do this out of a sense of obligation. I wanted to. You deserve everything I’ve bought today and so much more.” He lifted her chin with one finger as he bent down for a brief kiss. ‘You are very important to me. Anything I can do to make you happy is my pleasure.”
“Then take me back to your hotel and show me just how deserving I am.”
“Hmmm… you’ve become insatiable.” He pecked at her lips again.
“Are you complaining?”
“What do you think?” he asked, pulling her closer to feel his growing erection against her belly.
“Taxi!” She pulled away quickly, to wave down a passing cab.
***
“I thought we were going to…you know,” Fatima protested as she stripped down to her lacy undergarments.
Lorn’s gaze roamed her body slowly while he tried to remember what it was they were supposed to be doing. Whatever it was couldn’t be better than ravaging her right there. The recollection of his plans brought him to his senses. Although it did nothing to ease the near painful erection plaguing him. In their taxi ride she’d tortured him with her hands, obscured from the driver by numerous bags. He hadn’t understood her initial reasoning for not wanting to put the purchases in the trunk as suggested, but soon learned there was a method to her madness. Or his madness, as it would later become.
“We have reservation,” he replied shortly.
“I’m sure they would understand a little tardiness,” she said, unclasping the front of her bra. “You could use a little of your influence…” she pushed panties over round hips, sliding them slowly down her thighs, finally kicking them aside.
She was always fascinated by the change in the color of his eyes whenever he became aroused. They transformed into a deep, dark hue, beyond black.
She sidled up to him, closing the short distance, before standing on tiptoes to clasp her hands behind his neck. Her boldness was meant to lure him.
“Perhaps you’ve lost interest in me.” She pouted prettily, knowing if his straining cock were any indication her statement wasn’t true.
The growl started from somewhere deep in his chest, vibrating its way up.
“Fatima.”
“Yes?” she asked innocently.
“If I take you now it won’t be gentle.”
She swallowed the lump of excitement. They’d shared many experiences where he’d become carried away. She bore the bruises for a couple of days after as proof, but had always enjoyed his rough seductions.
“Did I ask you to?” she said with a bravery built on an almost unnatural sense of trust.
The words were barely out of her mouth before Lorn had her off her feet, taking her the distance to the bed, where he dropped her unceremoniously onto it center. She watched with wide eyes as he pulled clothes from his body, certain she heard shredding in the process.
“God help me, but I’ve got to have you.” She gasped when he reached for one of her legs, dragging her across the smooth coverlet until her round derrière sat precariously on the bed’s high edge. He took mere seconds to position her, spreading dark, soft thighs wide before plunging into her damp sheath.
Fatima let out a strangled cry at the rough entry, unable to take her eyes off the face of her lover. It didn’t take long for her body to recognize his signature brand of lovemaking, responding of its own accord to the forceful riding.
Lorn threw his head back at the welcoming warmth of her. His fangs pushed through, only this time he didn’t try to hide or conceal them from her.
“My god,” she gasped.
Lorn watched the expression on her face change from pleasure to shock. The gradual retreat of her body ignited a primal response. His fingers bit into the soft flesh of her thighs, not permitting any mode of escape.
“It’s still me,” he managed in a husky tone. “Feel me inside you.” He thrust deeper. “You are so wonderfully tight; I could bury myself in you forever.”
He retracted until only the tip of him remained inside, only to lodge himself deeply in her again at her whimper. His strokes became shorter, deeper until finally she exploded around him, drenching him with her feminine juices.
“Oh, god,” she repeated as each wave washed over her. She contracted around him and his own orgasm wasn’t far behind. He climaxed with a wall-shaking roar that would have had her scurrying if not for the hold on her hips while he pumped his hot seed into her.
For several minutes they remained in the same position, watching, waiting for the other’s reaction.
Fatima was fascinated by the gradual recession of his incisors, the return of his eyes from obsidian to their normal emerald color.
“What…what are you?” she finally asked with him still lodged in her body.
“I am a Protector.”
“I don’t understand?”
He eased from her warmth.
“My people are guardians of the human race,” he said slowly, seeming to allow her the chance to digest each word.
Human race? Guardians? The words reverberated through her brain.
“Can I get up?” she finally asked after several failed attempts.
Reluctantly he turned her loose, allowing her to retreat to the furthest recesses of the bed.
“Why didn’t you tell me before now?” she wanted to know, her voice low.
“I wanted to wait for the right opportunity,” he began his eyes followed her every movement making her feel like prey trapped in a hunters snare. “I had every intention of telling you tonight, in fact.”
“Was this the surprise?”
“Partly.” He rose from the bed, going to a chair where one of the smaller Cartier bags sat. He withdrew a box before returning. Fatima recognized the container; it was one the clerk had retrieved from a rear room while they looked at bracelets.
He took a position on the bed, allowing her the space she seemed to need at this moment of reckoning. Flipping open the lid, he revealed a diamond encrusted wedding set which shone brightly even in the dimly lit room.
She looked between him and the ring box several times before speaking. “I don’t understand,” she repeated.
“I want you to marry me, become my wife. Share the rest of our lives together.”
This wasn’t happening. She had to be imagining it all. No way the person she she’d grown to
care for, shared herself was anything but human.
“What? Tonight I saw a side of you I’ve never seen before from anyone. You tell me you’re some sort of Protector for humans and then you ask me to marry you?”
“I know it seems like a lot.”
“You can bet your fangs it is.”
He sat silently watching her until she was wary of what would come next.
“I can’t think straight right now.” She rose – he didn’t move to stop her. Evidence of what they’d just shared trickled down her thigh. “I want to shower.”
Lorn watched her dash toward the bathroom, heard the lock click in place, letting him know it was not an open invitation. He hung his head at the calamity of events. How had everything gotten so messed up? He’d wanted them to have an enjoyable day. In fact, they had. His plans were to take her to a nice dinner and bring her back to the penthouse for a nightcap before popping the question. Sure, she may have thought it was sudden, but he knew she held a fondness for him, more than she’d readily admit to at this point. He’d wanted to wait until he had her answer to talk about his gargoyle side, needed the extra reassurance before broaching the topic.
He gave the ring one last long look before snapping the box shut. He guessed he had his answer; he wasn’t comforted by the fact that her agreement at this stage was unnecessary. She’d already verbally and physically accepted him, which was enough to bring her over and make her his mate. The gargoyle in him raged at the rejection he felt. Weddings were sentimental human ceremonies mattering little to a Protector. Still, Lorn felt empty inside.
Chapter Nine
Fatima took her time in the shower until her fingers began to prune, after which she blew-dry her hair, combing through the thick mop until it was manageable. When she finally emerged from the bathroom, there was no sign of Lorn in the room. She released a grateful breath before donning the expensive underwear they’d purchased in the afternoon.
“Our reservations have been moved back an hour.” Lorn entered the bedroom without preamble just as she secured the bra’s front clasp.
