by Shona Husk
She was slick and ready for him, but he was dragging it out. He didn’t want it over because he didn’t know when he’d let someone follow him home again. He ran his hands up the back of her thighs and brought her pussy closer to his face. She whimpered and her nails dug into his shoulder, cutting the skin. A shiver of pleasure ran through his body and ended at the tip of his cock. He wanted to sink into her in so many ways. He was going to fuck her with his fangs buried in her neck; just the thought of tasting her tightened his balls and made his cock twitch.
Keeping a firm grip on her butt, he slid his tongue along her labia. She made a little gasping sound as if she was close to coming, her nails were working against his shoulder—did she have any idea how good that felt? He’d let her scratch him up any night of the week and the mornings too. His blood was hot in his veins and the small crescent-shaped cuts were exactly the outlet it needed, and almost as good as being bitten, something he’d given up on a long time ago.
William flicked his tongue over her clit. Slippery and tasting like sex and something wilder. She was wilder, a risk taker to come home with a Vampire she didn’t know. Yet she trusted him not to drain her dry and kill her. Trusted him not to hurt her at all. Who the hell was she?
It was better he didn’t know.
Her head tipped back against the wall as if surrendering to his touch. He smiled and let his fangs press against her skin. It would be so easy, but if he did, she’d come and he wasn’t ready for that. He wanted to wring out every drop of pleasure he could from tonight. Once Lucinda’s Lover broke up, he was fucked. Despite what he’d told Owen, he didn’t know what he was going to do. Or who he was going to do.
Without the shows, the best he’d be able to manage would be a low-level suggestion spell, which would lead to painful getting-to-know-each-other conversations. Yet the same as any Vampire, or Shaman, he needed company, sex and blood—well, Shamen didn’t need blood.
He glanced up at Claire. Her lips were parted and with each breath her breasts lifted. He placed one last kiss on her clit, her fingers flexing against his shoulders again, biting into his skin. The ache in his fangs intensified. He was going to bite her and make sure she never forgot it. He swallowed, gained a measure of control so he wasn’t temped to fuck her against the wall of the shower—he’d paid for the bed, and he was going to use it—then stood and turned off the taps. They’d wasted enough water.
She opened her eyes and looked at him, as if she was going to pounce. If she’d been Vampire, he’d have been worried. Maybe he should be worried. She’d broken down the carefully constructed distance he kept from everyone by simply refusing to leave. That made her dangerous. Next he’d be letting her stay the night and they’d be eating breakfast together. Then he’d convince himself maybe it was time to try again and everything would be fine until she forgot to think for herself and existed only to please him.
Bloody magic.
Bloody Shamen.
His father might be long dead, his mother too, but William hadn’t forgiven him. All William wanted was to be able to form a normal relationship, but the best he could do was a bunch of random fucks.
Claire deserved better than this and he didn’t even know her. No doubt she thought he was out of her league. Him. A half-breed who’d spent the first seventy years of his life on the streets, thieving and gambling before owing too much and being bailed out by Owen.
No one would be around to save him from himself this time.
He offered Claire his hand. She wrapped her fingers around his, then she pressed herself to him. Her skin was slick and hot, her nipples pressed against his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time a lover had been so bold.
She placed her lips on his in a slow, lingering kiss. “You’re not stopping, are you?”
“Nope. Having second thoughts?”
“No.” Her hand slid between their bodies and wrapped around his shaft. She gave his cock a hard stroke that made his blood pump harder than he thought possible. “You?”
He grinned. He was having doubts that he’d be able to kick her out before he did some damage. “Not at all. I’ve been on my feet for hours. It’s time for someone to get on their back.”
Then he’d go to sleep and she’d go home and everything would be fine.
Claire ran her tongue over Absinthe’s lip, his fangs sharp white points. But he made no effort to break her skin; he just teased her with the promise. She wanted to feel his bite. Her blood was hot and the magic around them was burning. She needed to come so badly, her belly was just knots with no room for anything but lust. Eager to get to bed, she stepped back. He moved with her, graceful as only a Vamp could be. His hand slid over her butt, keeping her close, and his cock pressed against her belly.
“It’s going to take awhile to walk to the bed like this.”
“You’ve never danced in a royal court.” He lifted her up and they stepped out of the shower.
A couple more steps over the tiles, then he spun her around. The dance was intimate and formless. He nuzzled against her neck, and his hands skimmed over her body, never letting her move away. Heat pooled between her legs. Her feet touched the carpet and then she was falling onto the bed.
It was large and covered in bright white sheets. The harbor lights lit the room, bathing him in the glow. He was beautiful. Without the dark eyeliner, his features were softer. The smooth lines of muscle that covered his chest and stomach were illuminated in the soft light, the moisture on his skin glistened, dark hair arrowed down from his navel to his cock. She lifted her gaze back up to meet his white eyes. He was looking at her the same way she’d been eyeing up him, as if he didn’t know when he was going to eat again.
Her lips curved as she eased her legs open and her fingers slid to her pussy. He watched without moving. Braver, she dipped her fingers into her core and circled her clit. Her stomach tightened as the edge of climax crept closer.
Absinthe broke the spell and knelt on the bed. He moved over her. “You don’t want to do that yourself.”
No, she didn’t. She wanted to come with him. Needed to, if she was going to harness the magic brewing in the air. He leaned over her, kissing her carefully, his teeth pressing against her, but never slicing—did he not want to bite her after all? Then he worked down her neck, tasting her skin. Her body arched and his cock brushed against her pussy, but he didn’t thrust in, just teased.
A whimper caught in her throat.
He shouldn’t be able to make her so desperate.
She didn’t even know his name. No one knew the real names of Lucinda’s Lover Vamps. While it wouldn’t be the first time she didn’t know her lover’s name, she wanted to know who Absinthe was and why he was more than Vampire.
The tips of his teeth grazed her skin. Her blood heated, reacting to the primitive desire to be bitten and be part of something bigger. She should be repulsed, but letting Absinthe have a taste didn’t seem nearly as bad as what the Council wanted from her. But again, he was only teasing, not actually biting.
Claire dragged her nails up his back—harder than she would with a human or Shaman lover. His hips pressed closer. But he drew back to look her in the eye. Even in the faint illumination, she could see his eyes were totally white, his fangs were down. A sane Shaman would have freaked and run away. A sane anything would have bolted. And yet there was something exciting, dangerous and more than a little erotic about being able to cause such a change in a man. To have him so full of lust he actually changed.
Absinthe’s eyebrows lowered. “Do you want to use a rubber?”
She almost laughed. Hell no. While she had magic, she couldn’t work miracles. But that wasn’t why he was asking, getting someone knocked up wasn’t really a Vampire problem. Nor was anything else, they healed so fast they never got sick, their bodies eradicating illness before a symptom formed.
“No, I want to feel you.”
He smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Then he shifted his hips and p
ressed into her core, slowly this time, as if he was actually enjoying it instead of sex serving a function and meeting a need and nothing more. Her eyes closed as she gave in to the sensation of his cock filling her. It was so much better this time. The magic building was more tamed and controllable.
She’d used sex to get a magical boost many times before, but this time she was torn. She wanted to just enjoy, but if she didn’t take advantage, she’d be subject to the Council’s laws. If she did take advantage, Absinthe would have a child he’d never know about, and she knew how much Vampires cherished children. If they had longer, she would tell him what she was and what she wanted…maybe in the morning. Maybe she could send an email and contact him. Who was she kidding? He’d forget her in a heartbeat.
She’d be that Sydney chick who knew about Vamps.
His lips caressed hers in a move so soft and gentle they could’ve been longtime lovers, not one stolen night. Her finger traced up the scratches on his back.
“Do it, you can’t hurt me,” he whispered in her ear. It was a command. But like he had done to her, she teased, running her nails along his skin without drawing blood.
He groaned and thrust deeper. She hooked her legs around his hips to keep him there. Each stroke brushed her clit, sending a frisson of pleasure through her body. She was so close. He kissed just below her ear, nuzzling, using his fangs and lips to draw the response he wanted. She surrendered and tilted her head, allowing him access to her throat.
He could take a piece of her and she’d take a piece of him. Not quite a fair trade, but all they could have. Power hummed around her, swelling like a storm waiting to break. It traced along her skin, craving to be used. She could ignore it and let it dissipate naturally or absorb it and let it fill her for a few days. Instead she began focusing on it, on the sensations Absinthe was creating in her body.
The smooth glide of his cock in her pussy, the feel of his body between her legs and the way his breath tickled her skin. Each little thing added to the power, if he felt it he didn’t show any sign. Either way, it didn’t matter. Her body was making itself ready.
His fangs pressed against her skin, harder this time. A moan escaped her lips, and her body trembled, she was so close to coming. His thrusts became faster, more urgent. She bit her lip, but her breathing still came in short pants. Her nails dug deep into his hips. He growled against her neck and his teeth sank into her.
“Ahh.” Her back arched as the world scattered into a spin of tiny lights. She felt his cum pump into her, her magic finding the live sperm and helping them on. The more Shaman ones recognized the power and were drawn to it. There was a soft burst of magic in her belly and before he’d stopped moving, it was done.
His tongue traced the cuts on her neck.
“You taste like a midnight jungle. Heavy with sweetness and mystery…” He kissed her neck again as if trying to work out what she was. His weight was resting over her, but he made no effort to draw away.
What, he liked the taste of her? Did he know what she was or had he never tasted a Shaman? Maybe the fact they tasted of dirt was a myth started by the Council. But the other Vamp hadn’t liked her blood. She held her breath and cracked open her eyes. He kissed her cheek, sensitive to the fact that she wouldn’t want to taste her own blood on his tongue. At that point in time she wouldn’t have cared. She’d have agreed to anything for the simple reason she’d never felt so good. She’d never been laid so good. Maybe it was the bite, because if there was a right way to do it, what he’d done was it. For a half a second she let herself imagine getting bit that way on a regular basis.
A tiny shudder rolled through her body like an aftershock of delight. Being bitten like that every night would totally be worth getting kicked out of the Council. When they found out who the father of her child was, they might still kick her out. She sighed. She didn’t care. After everything they’d done to her, she honestly couldn’t give a damn.
Absinthe moved and she eased her legs from around him. They couldn’t stay locked together all night. In fact, he was probably hoping she’d dress and leave. The trouble was now that she was here, she didn’t want to race out the door. She had Absinthe in her arms. A woman would be crazy to let him go.
His eyes were regaining color, the green darkening as he looked at her, and his fangs were gone. He looked like a man, not a Vamp and not a rock star. She was not falling for him. It was the magic of the moment, that was all. Between them, she felt a bond, linking them to the new life that would take hold.
She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. She wasn’t going to wreck this by getting teary and clinging and acting like a desperate groupie who didn’t know when the show was over. She’d already done that once and she knew she wouldn’t get away with it twice.
He was looking at her, as if trying to work out what to do with her. She steeled herself for the polite, but firm, goodbye.
“Do you have somewhere to be tomorrow, Claire?”
Probably. “No.” Was he asking her to stay?
“Good, sleep it off.” He eased out of her body and rolled onto his back next to her. His gaze never left her face. “Thank you. I needed that more than I knew.” His hand reached for hers, then he brought her fingers to his lips.
Her heart gave a flutter that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with something much more fragile. No, you don’t get to do that to me.
But she knew how much he’d needed it. Vampires, like Shamen, needed physical contact, they craved it, and if all he was getting was fast sex at the back of clubs, it wouldn’t be enough. It would be the same as eating only junk food. Fate knew where he was getting his blood from.
“Glad I could help.” She smiled. She meant it; maybe he wouldn’t forget her in a hurry.
* * * * *
William closed his eyes. He was tired, all kinds of tired—physically, mentally, magically—but he couldn’t sleep. Claire had tucked herself under the sheets and gone to sleep, curled on her side. All he could see was the back of her head and the sweep of her lovely neck.
He ran his tongue over his teeth again. She hadn’t tasted quite human, but then if she’d been raised around non-humans, there must be something in her family tree. But he was sure he hadn’t tasted anything like her before. Definitely not Were, that bred true through the maternal line and he’d have noticed that a mile off and avoided it. Vampirism also bred true and only required one parent to be Vampire. That left Shaman and a host of other minor subspecies. From other Vampires, he knew biting a Shaman was the same as eating dirt—because that’s what his blood tasted like to them.
Claire hadn’t tasted like earth, she’d tasted like Eden. He turned over to face her back. He should’ve asked her to leave; he’d be sleeping now if he had. But there was something about her, a look in her eye, or the way he’d felt the magic sweeping over his skin—he’d never come so hard. He frowned, not in recent memory any way, and he couldn’t be bothered sifting through over four hundred years of life and comparing lovers. He shrugged. What did it matter? They could repeat in the morning then he was packing and leaving. The band had to be in Tokyo in three days’ time.
Bloody tour schedule. Another day in Sydney would’ve been nice.
Eventually he let exhaustion claim him, but the worry she’d be gone in the morning lingered. It would be nice not to wake up alone just once this century—two centuries if he included the nineteen hundreds.
It was light when he woke. He was on the wrong side of the hotel for sunlight to spill into the room, but he preferred it that way. Dawn was sometimes too hard to face after fresh blood. He sat up and saw Claire still sleeping. His bite on her neck was pink and unhealed. His cock hardened in expectation of another round of sex and biting, and he was tempted to lean over and kiss the mark he’d made, but he held himself in check.
Don’t get sucked in.
That he’d let a woman sleep over was odd enough. Getting entangled would do neither of them any favors. William eased ou
t of bed and pulled his pajama pants out of a half-unpacked suitcase. That part of touring he wasn’t going to miss. Performing, both onstage and backstage, he would, but he knew it was time to disappear and let humans forget they existed.
That was much harder these days with modern technology. Once, he’d just moved to another city and taken a new identity. He traveled most of Europe that way. He glanced again at Claire. He could just wake her up. A grin curved his lips as he ran his palm over the length of his cock. There were advantages to having someone sleeping in his bed.
No. He shook his head and walked into the living area where he found the room service menu and ordered. He’d do the right thing, feed her and send her on her way before he was tempted to do anything else, even though letting her go felt like the wrong thing. He should be keeping her close. Damn, she’d gotten under his skin fast. It was the nails, she might be human, but she knew what to do. And she’d challenged him, dared him to do more than fuck her in the change room.
This was one of those times when he was glad he’d ignored his gut instinct and broken his rules. But that didn’t mean it was going to become a habit.
He turned around to go back to the bedroom and stopped. The flowers on the piano were different. His eyes narrowed and he stalked closer. They’d sprouted, roses now trailed over the piano, perfect white buds ready to open. He’d known there was magic in the air last night, but he didn’t have the power to do this—sure, he could keep cut flower alive for a few extra days, but he couldn’t make cut stems grow without soil and water—hell, he wasn’t sure he could’ve made a rose bush in the ground sprout like this.
Only a Shaman could do that. A sick feeling bloomed in his stomach. It swelled and punched upward. Claire. She was Shaman.
Whether she was full-blooded or one quarter, he didn’t care. She’d lied about what she was. He wiped his hand over his mouth as if he could remove the sweet taste of her blood from his tongue. But he couldn’t. He should’ve known. In the club he should’ve been able to feel what she was. He should’ve been able to taste the earth in her blood.
