“Six hundred dollars thrown down the drain,” he muttered when he noticed a scrape on one of them. His phone vibrated in his pocket. Irina. “Yes?”
“How goes life with the newborn?”
“It’s fine,” he said. Eamon walked in the house and heard Lauryl’s door slam. He threw the shoes up the stairs. “Why would you ask?”
“Because your companion is not like you at all.” She laughed. “And she seems to be a feisty sort.”
“She is spirited.” He said as he walked into his study. He poured himself a drink and fell back into his chair. “I think she’ll adjust in time though.” He drained the glass in one gulp.
“If you say so.”
“Goodnight, Irina.” Eamon hung up and tossed the phone onto the desk.
He didn’t need Irina and her taunting. For the next hour he didn’t even want to think of women. Eamon frowned. Lauryl and her temper were wearing on him. All she did was argue. That wasn’t what he wanted when he chose Lauryl. He wanted a companion, not a sparring partner. Now it was a challenge. Eamon took the emerald ring from his pocket and looked up at the ceiling.
“Darling, I don’t like it when I don’t get what I want.”
* * *
“What the—” Lauryl muttered as she saw the book on the pillow next to her head. The Taming of the Shrew. She rolled out of the bed, swept the book off the pillow on to the floor and proceeded to kick the offensive little book along as she got dressed. She picked it up, carried it to the top of the stairs, and kicked it down them, smirking as it bounced down to the lower level. She bounced behind it. She curtsied to it and kicked it down the hall to Eamon’s study. Lauryl opened the door, gave it a swift kick inside the room, and followed it two beats behind.
Eamon looked up in time to see the book skim across the floor and her pick it up. She held it away from her between her thumb and index finger. It flapped back and forth as she waved it toward him.
“Good. You found it. Get reading.”
“Why?”
“You need to broaden your education.”
“And you just happened to pick this play?”
“Shakespeare is timeless.” He slid his papers to the other side of the desk. “You can sit here.”
Lauryl reluctantly sat down and he opened the book in front of her. “This is going to be hard. I hated school,” she mumbled.
“I know that. That’s why you have to do this.” He walked to the credenza where he kept his liquor and pulled out a bottle of wine. “You can make up for you lack of enthusiasm now.”
He poured each of them a glass of wine and set hers on the desk. “Say thank you.”
She snapped the book shut. “Thank you, Eamon, for the wine and this marvelous opportunity to learn. If you want me to read this, you’ll have to leave me alone.”
He snickered and sat down. “I’ve had my fun.”
Lauryl picked up the book. The language was difficult at first but as she got used to it, the play was funny. She even laughed aloud a couple of times. She knew the reason why he’d picked this particular play. He thought he could steer her to obedience through the events in the play. He wanted her to play Kate to his Petrucchio.
She looked up at him, primed to tell him what she thought of his ‘lesson’. Eamon was engrossed in whatever he was reading. After a few moments, he looked up at her and smiled. Vampire or human, he was handsome. His slow, sexy smile made her tingle and that irritated her. Even though she wanted to hate him and be scornful of everything he did for her, she couldn’t when he gave her that certain look. Worst of all, she found herself desiring him more and more. It was hard to hate someone when you wanted them to be covering your body with their mouth and….
She put down the book and spun the chair around a few times. Watching the room turn from a blur to normal brought back one of the simple joys of her childhood. With each spin, her grin increased in size and on the last one, she giggled. When the chair stopped, Eamon watched her with a puzzled expression.
“Is that entertaining you?”
“I used to love it when I was a kid.”
“I see. Don’t let me keep you from it then.”
His superior tone killed any enjoyment she found. She picked up the book. “I’m done,” she said, fanning it in front of him. “I guess you’ll want a book report.”
“No,” he said as he put down his reading. “Did you learn anything?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I did.”
“And what was that?” he asked.
“I learned Shakespeare isn’t as hard to read as I thought!”
The smug expression vanished and he semi-scowled. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant. You wanted me to see the error of my ways and become a perfect and obedient wife.”
“Yes, that’s what I wanted.”
“Well, too bad.”
“For who?”
“What do you mean by that?” Lauryl narrowed her eyes and tipped her head to the side.
“One day, you’ll enjoy being a vampire. You’ll even admit that you like me.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Like you? Not a chance.”
“Maybe not tonight.”
“Maybe never.”
“Never is a long time.”
“It seems like all I have is time.”
“You’ll see,” he predicted.
“No, I don’t think I will.”
Eamon finished his wine and walked to the desk. “I’m never wrong.”
“Never is a long time, to quote someone,” she said.
“You amaze me. You seem to delight in provoking me. I wouldn’t tolerate this kind of treatment from anyone but you.”
“Oh, that’s a fucking honor.” She ran to the door, swung it open, and turned back to him. “‘I see a woman may be made a fool, if she had not the spirit to resist.’” She gritted her teeth and bolted for her room.
That line from the play stuck in her head. In her case, it was true. However, she wanted to scream after she said it. Eamon nodded in happy agreement. He even winked at her. No doubt, he was pleased at her recitation of the play.
She paced around her room for a few second, twisting a large lock of hair around her fingers and yanking on it. A few more yanks and then she sat down on her bed.
It would only be a few minutes before he came up after her.
* * *
Eamon checked his watch. Two hours had passed since Lauryl’s theatrical exit. She tried so hard to be dramatic, but instead, she ended up comical. Her haughty expression along with her quick strides to the door ended with an attempt to slam it behind her. She hadn’t been so lucky. She shut the door too fast and it collided with her left foot, causing her to stumble. He didn’t laugh then but now, why shouldn’t he? It was funny. Funniest of all was the imperious expression on her face. He pushed back from the desk and went upstairs to see what she was doing.
He peeked in her room and she stiffened. Lauryl stretched across her bed on her stomach. Her feet crossed back and forth over each other, her shoes hanging off her toes. Eamon cleared his throat and her feet stopped.
“Yes?” she asked, acknowledging his unwanted presence.
He leaned against the doorframe. “I’m being patient.”
The shoes fell off her feet. “Oh?”
He laughed and took a few steps closer to the bed. “I admire you, Lauryl. I really do.”
“Is that so?” She noticed him staring at her legs and quickly rolled up on her knees and pulled down her skirt.
“Be downstairs in five minutes,” Eamon said as he walked to the door.
“You could ask, you know.”
“I shouldn’t have to.”
* * *
“Do you play chess?” he asked when she walked into the study.
“No.”
“I’ll teach you. It’s a very important game.” He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a chessboard and a box of chess pieces. He spread it out on a
table and set up the board. “I think you’ll like the game once you catch on.”
She shrugged as she slumped into the chair. “Yes, I’m sure.”
He sat down across from her. “Chess will teach you to think logically. It will teach you to consider your actions and their consequences. And maybe, it will curb your temper.”
Eamon explained all of the pieces to her and reminded her again about thinking before acting. Lauryl learned quickly and made some intelligent moves but occasionally, she made some rash ones.
“You’re not thinking,” Eamon scolded. “You’re too passionate with your moves.” He held his hand up and smirked. “Don’t misunderstand me; passion is good in some things.”
Lauryl pushed a handful of hair from her face. “Will you let me play the way I want to? I’m still learning and nagging isn’t helping.”
“See? Passion.” He leaned back in his chair and studied her face. His gaze then wandered to the rest of her body.
Lauryl tucked her legs up underneath her and looked back at him. “It’s your move, I think.”
“Why does my desire for you make you uncomfortable? It didn’t before”
“It doesn’t.”
He shrugged and then moved his rook. “Check mate,” he said. He noticed the time. “Come, it’s time for you to go upstairs to rest. The sun will be coming up soon.”
They walked upstairs and Eamon stopped in front of her door. “I’d invite you to sleep with me today, but I have things to do and I won’t be in.”
“Today? During the day?”
“None of that Hollywood crap about the sun reducing us to ashes is true. You can go out in the sun for limited amounts of time. However, you must exercise caution because the sun can burn us. Just very slowly.”
“Amazing!”
He leaned against the doorframe. “When you’re stronger, I’ll show you how to do it. Then you’ll see it’s only a matter of concentration.” He gave her a gentle nudge through the door and closed it.
* * *
Lauryl walked over to her bed and sat down. She could hear Eamon next door as he got ready for the day. She wanted to go next door and ask him more questions. However, she knew that he would hustle her back into her own room.
Why she was even excited or intrigued by anything he told her? she wondered as she changed into her gown. Each day, or night, she went through cycles of sadness or anger at him. She just wanted to make sense out of how to live like this and he was holding back a skill that might make her feel a little more…human, something that would make her happy. She kicked out of her bed and went to his door.
The room was silent now. Could he have dressed that fast? He loved his appearance too much to throw something on and go. She cracked the door open and poked her head in. The main part of his room was empty. She slipped through the door and looked around. His bed was untouched. She crept in further and saw that his Mac book was open and still booted up and his phone sat in the charger dock on his dresser. She turned a corner and saw his clothing hanging in the closet. It was more than a closet. It was the size of her old apartment’s bedroom.
Hand tailored suits hung in rows, separated by their varying shades of blues, grays and black with almost imperceptible stripes of color. Each suit, with its hidden Huntsman label, was as individual as Eamon. He’d ordered his clothing from Huntsman since before the First World War. There, his secret remained protected by their ingrained sense of discretion.
When the cutter and the sales manager from the store came to call on Eamon, Lauryl found it almost comical the way the men fawned over him. They flattered his choices and advised him on what fabrics would suit him best. Eamon took extreme care and interest in the entire process. He described to the cutter and manager what he wanted and the two took notes and drew a few quick sketches. Then, after a drink and a handshake, the men gathered their belongings and returned to London with his order. One thing had impressed Lauryl while watching the entire procedure and that was how well the cutter and manager dressed. When she mentioned this to Eamon, he told her that a Saville Row employee was a walking advertisement for himself and the firm that employed him.
She examined the shelves of shoes that filled one side of the closet. Next to them were lines of silk ties placed in shallow drawers. A shelf of watches, cuff links, and glasses sat in a lighted cabinet. The costume department of the dance company had nothing on his closet. She rubbed her hand against the hanging jackets, sending wisps of his scent into the air. She leaned into the jackets and took a deep breath. A door at the end of the closet opened and Eamon walked though. Lauryl jumped away from the jackets and put her hands behind her back.
Eamon took a few steps, buttoning the cuffs of his shirt as he walked. “Oh, hello,” he said. His eyebrows lifted slightly in amused surprise.
She looked at his bare, muscled chest and couldn’t catch herself before a captivated smile crossed her lips. “Hey.”
“I didn’t expect you to be in here.”
Lauryl remained silent. His hair was still damp and uncombed but he looked fantastic. He smelled even better. More than that, he smelled enticing. It was only his soap she smelled, but the sight of him with his shirt unbuttoned and his hand tailored trousers on, she found herself drawn to him. It was as if he was physically pulling her to him.
“Me either.”
Eamon finger combed his sand colored hair and put his watch on. “Can’t you rest?”
She walked closer to him, breathing him in. What was wrong with her? She wondered. He’d never been this attractive to her. She didn’t know if it was the act of being caught searching for him when she was supposed to be in her room for the day or if it was some weird case of vampire lust. Whatever it was, it was incredible! “No, I can’t. I came in here to ask you something.”
“What?” He started to button his shirt up. He stopped when she held her hand up.
“Don’t do that.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because I don’t want to unbutton them again.”
Eamon backed up and leaned against the drawers. He resumed the buttoning. “I’ll be late and you should be resting.”
Lauryl closed the distance between them. She popped off the shirt buttons he did manage to fasten and her fingers settled on his chest. His shower-warmed skin and seductive scent invited exploration. Her hands traced over his stomach and back up to his chest. They slid back down, circled around his waist, and sank below the waistband of his pants, her nails dragging against his hips. Her eyelids drooped and she sucked in a breath as she moved her fingers around to the front and unbuckled his belt.
“There is something I need more than rest,” she whispered as she opened the buttons on his pants. With a gentle tug, the zipper came down and her hands disappeared under the blue wool fabric.
Eamon lowered his lips to her shoulder. He kissed her softly before he slipped the thin silk straps of her chemise off. The filmy garment dropped down past her hips, leaving her naked in front of him. He traced his fingers up her neck into her hair. She leaned her head back and he kissed from her chin down her neck. Her skin tingled in the wake of each kiss. Lauryl raised her arms over her head and arched her back slightly.
“Let me give it to you,” he whispered.
“How do you know what I need?”
“I think it’s obvious,” he said as he picked her up and carried her to his bed.
Once on the bed, Lauryl rose up on her elbows and looked at Eamon. Even though he was no more than ten inches from her, it felt like miles. The tiny distance between them was excruciating. The overwhelming need to have him touch her startled her. She rolled on to her stomach and glanced back over her shoulder to him, begging with her eyes. He raised her arms up over her head and covered her back with kisses. She opened her legs and drew them up closer to her. Lauryl moaned as his hands found the part of her that now ached for him. All sense of control that she maintained before disappeared and a new force took control of her.
&nbs
p; As his fingers teased her relentlessly, she pushed her body harder against him. She turned her head to him, silently wishing him inside of her. His fingers stopped and she could feel the hard length of him next to her, lightly skimming her opening. She tried to back against him to stop his tormenting but each time she did, he pulled away from her. Lauryl dropped her head down in frustration. What could possibly be the reason for denying her? Her fangs dropped in and she looked back at him, her mouth slack and her lips wet with anticipation.
“Won’t you please?” she whispered, her fangs visible to him.
Eamon pushed into her. She leaned back into him. Lauryl froze a moment as she processed the sensation of him inside of her, trying to experience it with each of her senses. Where his skin touched hers, a fire began to smolder. Strings of light danced in front of her eyes. Overcome by anticipation, she grabbed the bed linen and twisted as he slowly drove in and out of her.
Lauryl savored the being a part of him. It was as if he was consuming her; that she was dissolving into him. Each deep thrust tied her to him in a way she’d never experienced before. She swung her head around to look at him. The hair in her face clouded her vision but she could see the dark, sensuous expression on his face. The grip of his hands tightened slightly on her hips as he pulled her into him and the speed of his thrusting increased. Every part of her body yielded to him and his movements. Lauryl gasped and stretched her arms forward on the bed as if she was begging. In a way, she was begging. She was begging him not to end the experience of being part of him and belonging to him. She both loved and hated that. While that thought tore at her mind, the divine conclusion approached. She remained trapped between wanting to stay a part of him and wanting to go over the edge to where she had never been before. It became clear to her that she didn’t have to choose. Every nerve in her body vibrated and she melted into Eamon. She experienced his body and his pleasure as well as her own. For a split second his thoughts and sensations shot through her mind. Her body fed off them and exponentially increased her own climax. She looked back one last time before she sank onto the bed.
Life in Moonlight: The Primigenio Tales: Book 1 Page 9
