Mate With Me

by BJ Wane

  Ignoring the plea in her blue eyes as well as her voice, Damien bent over her and kissed a vivid bluish bruise before reluctantly straightening up. “I have to go get your car and stop at your apartment for your things. Is there anything in particular you want or need?”

  Ignoring her nakedness and the throbbing in her head, Abby lifted up on her elbows and glared at him. “What are you talking about? Why are you getting my things?”

  Damien would never forget the fear and shock that had ripped through him when the first rogue had said his mistress had sent him. He now regretted killing him so quickly because he needed information and needed it fast. They were either dealing with another female master vampire, which was unlikely after all this time, or Isabelle had managed to survive both their attack and the sun’s death rays. From what Marie had managed to convey, the rogues were sent to specifically target mates, which meant the only place any mate would be safe would be with one of the brethren. But he didn’t want to tell Abby that until he was sure, didn’t want to add to the shock, pain and worry she had already been subjected to.

  “There’s a good chance you were targeted.” Running his finger over the mark on her breast, he said, “You’ll be safe here.”

  His touch on that sensitive spot had her shifting uncomfortably on the bed, her nipples beading into even tighter pinpoints, her pussy swelling in anticipation of his cock filling her. “Here in your house or here in your bed?” she blatantly asked.

  Damien moved back and glared down at her. “You saw what I am, saw what I’m capable of, and you still insist on pursuing this?”

  “I saw you defending me and avenging Marie. You were brutal, and yes, cruel, but it wasn’t anything those….creatures didn’t deserve. Who, or should I say, what were they and what do they want with me?”

  Damien moved away from his large four poster bed, turning his back on her and the enticing picture she made lying on it. Flinging open the French doors that led to the upper story landing, he looked out into the night wondering what else it held in store for him. “They were rogue vampires, humans who don’t bear a mark on their palm who cannot survive their transformation for more than a year without going mad. Isabelle, a master vampire and the widowed mate of a brethren, enjoyed filling her lair with the dregs of humanity, forcing them to do her bidding. I thought I had killed her, but now, well there’s a chance she’s still alive.”

  Abby pulled the blue satin comforter over herself, suddenly feeling very cold and alone. Looking at Damien’s rigid stance didn’t exactly comfort her. “I didn’t know there were any women like you and the others.”

  “The year I stayed with Isabelle, there were women and men vampires, rogues, but when some of us started finding our mates and realized they didn’t age once they mated, we saw no reason to disrupt their lives further.” The sound of the others returning had him turning and heading for the door. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Jacob, Jon and Luc are here, so there’s no need to be afraid.”

  Damien kept a tight hold on his emotions until he closed his door behind him. He would never forget the stark, vivid fear etched on Abby’s face when she came to and saw him battling her attackers. Between that look and the image of Marie lying dead in a bloody pool, his rage knew no bounds and the minor scuffle he had indulged in with the rogues wasn’t near enough to take the edge off.

  Having Abby here would ensure her safety from everyone except himself, another reason he had to get away from her for a while. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and join her on his bed, ached to sink his cock into her welcoming liquid heat and watch her expressive blue eyes widen and glaze over with pleasure, obliterating the fear and trepidation. His gut clenched as he recalled how close he had come to losing her and at how much he wanted to fuck her, over and over, until the past receded and nothing mattered but the present.

  Unfortunately, his past wasn’t so easily set aside, the mistakes he made not so easily atoned for. For over a year he had let fear rule him, had allowed Isabelle to dictate his life because he was afraid of what he had become. She lured him to her side with the promise to help him adjust, kept him there with the never ending pleasure of her hedonistic lifestyle. Orgies with her rogues where anything and everything was indulged in kept his mind off of the future, the pleasure and decadence so far above anything he had ever indulged in he had turned a blind eye when she annihilated a rogue who displeased her or replaced one who had succumbed to madness with another as if destroying another life meant nothing.

  It took him being responsible for destroying a young, innocent life for him to wake up. Now, over two hundred years later, he feared his past was about to rise up again, and this time it could be Abrielle who paid the price for his mistakes. No matter what, he vowed silently, he would keep her safe, from both himself and Isabelle, if it turns out she did survive all those years ago.

  “What the hell, Damien?” Jon demanded when Damien came into the front parlor. “Is Abby all right?”

  “She is now,” he answered tersely, his eyes meeting each of those of his brethren. “But Marie isn’t.” He quickly laid out the events of the past few hours, his grief for Marie almost overwhelming. “I need to get Abby’s car, see what’s happening at Marie’s townhouse and get some of Abby’s things from her loft. I need you here, contacting the others with what we know and arranging a meet this week.”

  “I swear to God, if that bitch is still breathing, this time I’ll see she suffers before I turn her to dust,” Jacob promised, his green eyes glittering like shards of splintered glass.

  “You’ll have to get in line for that privilege. I’ll be back before dawn.” Looking out the window, Damien noted he didn’t have much time and dissolved into mist, assured he had left Abby in safe hands.

  “I wonder how long he’ll be able to hold out against Abby with her in such close proximity,” Luc said, a small smile of anticipation lifting his mouth.

  “I wonder what happened between him and Isabelle that has him turning away from something we all long for.” Jacob found it difficult to be supportive of his friend’s reluctance when he couldn’t fathom anything that would keep him from claiming his mate if he ever found her.

  “Hey, speak for yourself. I’m more than content to play footloose and fancy free for a couple more decades.”

  Jon smiled at his twin. “Yeah, besides what’re the odds we find a mate who was meant for both of us?”

  “Wouldn’t you each rather have your own woman for the long haul?”

  They both raised light eyebrows that matched their sandy hair but it was Luc who replied, “This from the guy who’s been fucking two women for how long now?”

  “Not that long,” Jacob mumbled but managed to glare at the two of them when they smirked. “I’m going to check on Abby.”

  Abrielle didn’t let Damien’s abrupt departure bother her, at least not too much. She could have told him she feared his continued rejection more than she feared another attack from those creatures he called rogues. Getting out of bed, she rummaged in his dresser for a tee shirt and stepped into his bathroom to take a quick shower. As a child, she had had free roam of the lower level of the mansion and as an adult she had been upstairs a few times when she had stayed the night in one of the spare rooms. This was the first time she had been in Damien’s room and she was surprised at the sparseness of personal items. The bed was a beautiful, ornate four poster, the matching, huge armoire made of the same dark ash. He favored blue, dark, navy blue carpet, lighter, robin’s egg blue bed linens and drapes at the balcony’s French doors of a multitude of blue shades. But there were no knick knacks, no little touches or personal items he had collected throughout the years that might hold a special memory for him.

  Blue marbled countertop matched that of the huge, walk in shower, but what could have been a room worthy of being a main feature spread in a builder’s magazine seemed cold and uninviting without all the little touches that could have made it worth lingering in. Much like Damien had b
een lately, she thought as she took a quick, extra hot shower before donning the tee shirt and returning to the comfort of his big bed.

  Apparently the shock of her close encounter hadn’t completely worn off because, even though she was buried under the warm comforter, she started to shake again. Wishing Damien would return, she was about to seek him out in her mind when a knock followed by Jacob asking to come in stopped her.

  “You okay, sweetie? I thought you might be hungry.” Jacob set the tray with a sandwich and chips on the bedside table then sat on the edge and took note of her pallor and bruised complexion with concern.

  “Just a little shocky, I think.” Picking up the peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich, she smiled as she took a bite, surprised to find she could eat after the night she had. “I’m not eight anymore, Jacob, but this is really good. Thanks.”

  “We’re all well aware you’re no longer a child, Damien especially.” He let his eyes move down, grinned when she blushed as her nipples tightened under his look.

  “Stop that,” she muttered. Even though her body didn’t respond to Jacob’s nearness with nearly uncontrollable lust as it did to Damien’s, Jacob was a man any red blooded woman would be hard pressed not to fantasize about. He wore his dark brown hair long enough to pull back into a leather tie and reveal the gold hoop he wore in his ear and his vivid green eyes with their long, dark lashes that she envied was more than enough to draw attention. Topping his good looks with a tall, leanly muscled body that sat his Harley with masculine grace, well, any sane woman would look twice and struggle not to drool.

  Jacob chuckled at her red face, yanked her hair playfully and told her, “That’s all we had in the kitchen that I could fix quickly. Now that you’re here, you can stock it with whatever you want.”

  Even though here was exactly where she wanted to be, especially here in Damien’s bed, she wished it had been because Damien wanted her here, not because she might be in danger of another attack. “Those…things who attacked Marie and me, they weren’t like you and the others.”

  Jacob cocked his head at her, asking, “Didn’t Damien ever explain the difference between rogue vampires and the brethren, those of us who carry the mark on our palm who can withstand the transformation without eventually going insane?”

  “Not until tonight.”

  Reaching over to the drawer in the nightstand, Jacob withdrew a small, ancient book; the leather bound cover lined and soft from wear, its pages yellowed with age. “Here, read this. It’ll explain us and them.” Leaning forward, he placed a friendly kiss on her forehead before rising and picking up the tray. “If what Damien suspects is true, and the vampire who turned all of us is still alive, it’s more imperative now than ever for you and Damien to mate. She is Satan incarnate and extremely powerful due to her centuries of existence.”

  “I can’t force him to want me.” Abby shivered in trepidation at his warning, but didn’t know what she could do about it.

  “He already wants you; he wanted you before he knew you were his chosen mate. Maybe if you can get him to tell you why he refuses to act on his desires, you can win him over. Go to sleep now, Abby. You’ll be safe here, and you’ll be safe during the day anywhere.”

  Damien returned home shortly before dawn. Keeping to the shadows, he had watched the paramedics bring Marie’s body out in a body bag, listened to the police speculating on who could possibly have done such a thing. Rumors would circulate over the next few days, hints of something sinister, something supernatural being responsible, but they would die down. At least, he hoped they would after no other similar attacks took place. The key was to make sure Marie’s death was treated as an isolated incident, some doped up fuck who liked to dabble in the occult being responsible.

  Worry and fear for Abrielle was compounded by his grief for Marie, a woman he had cared deeply for. Rummaging through Abby’s drawers, he had been surprised to find a stash of barely there, sexy underwear, similar items he had seen Marie in countless times. But he had never experienced black, jealous rage picturing Marie with another man wearing her seductive lingerie. Even though she had been important to him, even though he enjoyed sex and friendship with her for over three decades, he hadn’t ever felt possessive of her, had never minded her profession that included sex on a regular basis with other men. Just the thought of Abby in the red satin boy shorts and matching bra had his cock straining for release and his palm throbbing, had him fighting against seeking out the young man she had fucked right before going to Marie’s house.

  There was always a price to be paid when one pried into someone else’s mind. Damien had deliberately sought Abby’s recent memories in an effort to discover why she had been at Marie’s and what he saw hadn’t sat well with him. Those images, fleeting though they were, were seared into his brain and when he had found her drawer full of clothes that would drive any sane man mad with lust seeing her in them, he had to physically reign in his temper, force himself not to go into a rampage against the man who was only doing what any red blooded male would do if given the opportunity. And he couldn’t blame Abby. Knowing he was solely responsible for turning her away, pushing her to seek someone else, did nothing to ease his regret or his anger.

  Damien was glad he didn’t encounter anyone else as he moved slowly up the stairs, taking his time as he got his runaway emotions under control. He hoped Abby was still sleeping, but as he neared his room, a soft, terrified cry that sounded loud to his acute hearing had him moving in a blur of speed to her side.

  Caught in the throes of a nightmare, Abby had flung off the covers, one of his shirts having ridden up to reveal her small waist and the underside of her full breasts, a scrap of white lace barely covering her pussy, her legs thrashing as if she was fighting to free herself from something or someone.

  “No!” she cried out, her voice laced with terror.

  “Abby!” he called to her sharply, his hands holding her shoulders as he tried to wake her. “Come on, baby, wake up. It’s just a dream.”

  Abby fought her way out of the nightmare towards the voice and body that had set the mark on her breast to throbbing with erotic intensity. Struggling to wake up, to shove aside the terrifying images of crazed, blood sucking creatures feasting on her body as she cried out for Damien to help her, she reached for the safety and comfort she knew that voice and that body would give her.

  “Damien,” she whimpered as the nightmare images refused to let her wake completely, the fear that she was just dreaming he was here with her keeping her from rousing fully.

  “Yes, it’s me, Abrielle. Come on now, wake up. Nothing can hurt you here.”

  She shifted against his hands again, her legs still moving restlessly. Damien reached down intending to stroke her leg, but his hand met the soft, bare flesh of her fully exposed breast first. Moaning, Abby arched up into his palm, her nipple stabbing his birthmark, sending lightning bolts of hot pleasure straight to his cock. Unable to help himself, desperate to end the fear of her nightmare, he kneaded her breast, relishing the feel of her soft fullness filling his hand.

  “Yes,” Abrielle groaned, her nightmare quickly taking a backseat to the pleasure coursing through her, running like hot lava through her veins. Now fearing waking and finding this wasn’t real more than she had feared her nightmare, she kept her eyes tightly shut as she begged hoarsely, “More, please, God, Damien, don’t stop, I beg you.”

  Damien knew it would be like this, knew he wouldn’t be able to resist either her pleas or her need if he touched her. Unable to turn away from her, refusing to add to the trauma of her night by rejecting her, he bent over her and replaced his hand with his mouth, wrapping his lips around her turgid nipple while covering her pussy with his hand. Her panties were damp, that bit of telltale moisture coating his palm and making it burn with a fire only she could put out.

  Determined to replace her nightmare with pleasure, he fought to keep himself in check and put her needs first. “I won’t stop, bebe, I’ll make you feel so g
ood you’ll forget all about that boy you were with earlier.”

  Abby jerked at his words, almost opening her eyes in accusation at hearing he had pried into her mind. But then he slid his fingers in her panties and slowly pulled them down, the cool air followed swiftly by his hot hand replacing the scrap of lace diverted her thoughts into a much more pleasurable direction.

  It was Damien’s turn to moan and struggle against a nightmare of his own making when he sank two fingers into her tight, wet sheath, the feel of her slick walls clamping around him almost more than he could bear. Switching to her other nipple, he lightly bit that tender bud as he slowly finger fucked her pussy, taking his time to search out every inch of her soft walls, going deep then pulling back and staying shallow enough to include a light rasp over her hard little clit.

  “You’re so fucking tight, Abby, I swear you’re cutting off my circulation,” he mumbled against her nipple before shifting his mouth to the side and stroking his tongue over the red, crescent shaped mark that he knew was pulsing with a beat that matched the one in his palm.

  She exploded under him with a startled cry, her pussy clutching spasmodically around his fingers, her breasts jiggling with her exertions as she coated him with her come. Not ready to give her up yet to reality, Damien moved down her waist, nipping the soft, tender skin before settling her legs over his shoulders and burying his face in the seepage pouring from her pussy. Lapping up her come, he thought nothing could taste as good except her blood. Quickly slamming a lid on that thought, he struggled to concentrate on giving her more pleasure instead of contemplating that which could never be.

  Using his thumbs, he spread her puffy labia and took a moment to savor the pink recesses of her vagina, the swollen lips, the red, puffy clit ready for another burst of pleasure. Slowly, he licked up her core, curling his tongue, scooping up her moisture as he went, smiling when she pushed against his face and her hands fisted in his hair. “Easy, Abby. I’ll give you what you want soon.”