by Fawn Lowery
He lowered his hand, sliding it between her legs. Splaying his fingers, he reveled in the feel of her bushy crotch. Her body was hot against his palm. His lust rose as anticipation grew inside him. He inched his fingers lower, separating her hair-roughened pussy lips and sliding his index finger amid her hot folds.
She groaned and arched her back. “Don’t pretend you’re trying to pleasure me.”
He brought his gaze up to her face. “You are very beautiful.” He lowered his head and claimed her mouth as his finger found her clitoris and stroked it rhythmically.
She groaned and returned his kiss then wrenched her mouth away, turning her head. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Your body sexually arouses me.” He pulled his hand from her crotch and grasped his cock. He positioned its hot head at her slit. He pressed his prick against her opening, but he didn’t enter her cave. “I don’t usually ask a wench’s permission to rut—”
She jerked her head around, staring at him through the near darkness. “Wench? Rut? What kind of language are you speaking? For Pete’s sake! This isn’t the middle ages.”
He pushed inside her suddenly, realizing his continued attempt to gain her permission was only arousing her curiosity about him—and her doubts. He gripped her buttocks in either hand and rammed his long hard cock in to the hilt, listening to her attempt to catch her breath.
He savored the warmth encasing his cock. For a moment he closed his eyes and enjoyed every thrust as his cock slid in deep, paused a second while he ground his crotch against her slit then pulled back, only to ram back inside her silken passage.
His orgasm came much too soon. The muscles in his buttocks knotted as he felt the first tingles ripping through his insides. He groaned and stiffened his legs as the sensations grew in intensity. Thrust, thrust, thrust! The climax raced full bloom through his body, bringing a loud bellow from his throat.
Memories of sexual conquests flitted through his mind as he released the pent-up emotions he had kept contained for so long. His hot semen gushed inside her warm body, releasing the torrent of sensations that spiraled throughout his limbs. He opened his mouth and panted, arched his back as he lunged his cock as deeply inside her core as he could.
Heaven should be so sweet. For an instant the thought assailed his mind. There was little chance that he would ever see heaven. He almost laughed. He was destined to live in hell for eternity—but right at that moment—he knew he was as close to heavenly bliss as he would ever come.
He didn’t want to pull out, to separate his body from hers. He wanted to remain there forever, his prick inside her cavern, their bodies linked in an inevitable wave of sexual orgasm. He moved his hips slowly, anticipating another bout of sex play, when she raised her hands and pushed at his chest.
“I don’t suppose you thought about using a condom?”
He opened his eyes and stared down at her. What did she say?
“Get off me!”
He moved without thinking, rolling to his side then onto his back. His chest heaved with panting breaths. His legs felt as though he had run ten miles. He smiled at the comparisons. There was little to compare his body to that of a mortal—yet the sexual experience with the blonde woman had all but brought back explicit memories of times long past. He stifled the urge to speak of such times—aware that she was trying to get up from the bed. Suddenly he realized it would be best if he took his leave.
He rose from the bed, pulling the woman back down to the mattress. “Stay in bed and sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
“Now I suppose you’re going to tell me you’re a doctor.”
The acid in her tone was all too prevalent. He winced at the infraction. He rose and pulled on his clothes, though a mere thought would have dressed him in less time and with far less effort.
It’s best not to call more attention to myself. He crossed the room to the window and ordered it open with a wave of his hand. With a quick summons of the magic, he shapeshifted into a bird and flew out into the dark night.
CHAPTER THREE
The darkness was broken only by the glow of lights shining here and there. Jarharis flew toward the heart of the city as he pushed thoughts of the blonde woman named Selena from his mind. He should never have pursued her as he had. He turned his thoughts to learning about his surroundings, finding a safe place to spend the daylight hours and establishing himself—whether he chose to be known by some or a few—he needed an identity.
He wondered if he should even bother. Perhaps come tomorrow, he would learn Brooklyn was not the place for him. His mind retuned to thoughts of the blonde woman. Her body was so tantalizing, so intriguing.
I’m weak. With the next breath he rebuked himself for such an admission. His weakness, perhaps, comes only with the allure of a female body. He felt pensive suddenly as he soared silently on a wind current high above the lights of the city. He had never been in love—indeed his existence as a mortal man had ended when he was barely thirty years of age. Still he was not immune to the wiles of a fetching wench.
He remembered suddenly how the blonde woman had mocked his choice of words. He gazed at the lights beneath his feathered body and mentally noted that he must learn the language of the time so that he did not call undue attention to himself in the future.
He sought a place to perch, examining the rooftops as he had previously. He needed a perch high above the place where people traversed where he could sit and observe their comings and goings. He chose a tall steeple atop a massive building, a church, perhaps, or a cathedral. He pinned his sharp gaze on the broad avenues below his perch. They were deserted. Not a creature—or man—stirred either on the narrow winding lane like the one he had seen the blonde woman and her companions traversing, or the wider strip that winded through the buildings. He turned his gaze upward, surveying the sky. Stars gleamed out of the blackness. A full moon hung aloft as if suspended on an invisible string. A sorrowful emptiness engulfed him and he forced his mind to return to the matter at hand.
Perhaps he should resume his immortal state and stroll along the walkway in search of other beings. He leapt from his perch and settled within the shadow of the towering building, shapeshifting in the blink of an eye. He stepped out of the darkness and scanned the street in either direction. He sighed, feeling as though he were alone in the world.
He began walking, his mind consumed with thoughts of his new life. He pushed his hands inside his trouser pockets and strode across the street into the illumination of a tall lamppost. He leaned one shoulder against the sturdy post and tried to reason how he would survive in the time he had arrived in. Everything was foreign. The people. Their ways. The language.
He smiled suddenly and shook his head. The blonde woman had certainly made him feel as though he were a stranger. If she only knew.
His brows drew together. He could just imagine her telling her friends—perhaps the male companions he had seen her with tonight—how she had flown through the air in a stranger’s arms. The group’s talk of vampires would be intensified, certain to stir the minds of all who listened.
He pulled one hand from his pocket suddenly, having discovered the object he had been toying with while he thought about his situation. The witch’s amulet gleamed yellow gold in the light from the street lamp. He turned it over in his palm, studying its many facets while he watched the light play across its surface. Its long gold linked chain lay upon his fingers and dangled across his wrist.
What good is this stone? His thoughts returned to the instant he had taken it from the neck of the Morganford witch. It had landed easily into his palm—as though he was meant to take it from its owner. He closed his hand around the stone, squeezing his fingers against the angled surface. Perhaps he should have asked the witch who brought him to this time about the amulet. He sighed. He couldn’t search her out just to appease his curiosity.
He pushed his tall frame from the support of the lamppost and began walking down the street, the amulet g
rasped tightly in one hand. An idea was taking root in his mind. Perhaps he could sell the stone for enough funds to establish himself. The idea had merit. But could he make such arrangement in the night? Would there be any dealers willing to speak with him after hours?
A movement further along the sidewalk drew his attention. He paused and listened, his hearing keen. Sounds of footsteps came to him then the unmistakable sounds of an animal. He watched the shadows as a man and a small dog appeared, the dog walking slightly in front of the man.
“Now hurry up and take a whiz, Buffy. It’s late and we shouldn’t be out at this hour.”
Jarharis smiled and stepped into the shadows of a nearby building, awaiting the passing of the man and his companion. His fingers toyed with the amulet nestled inside his pocket.
Perhaps if he wished himself back to his time and held on tightly to the amulet, he would be transported forthwith. The notion struck him as funny. He chuckled. But the humor failed to lift his spirits.
What do you want most, Jarharis?
Jarharis jerked his head around, certain that the man walking his pet had spoken to him. He surveyed the street where he had spied the man. There was no sign of the man or his little dog.
Speak your needs.
Jarharis closed his eyes then opened them, certain that he was imagining the voice that had spoken to him twice now. He could detect no one in his midst. He snarled. Agitated that he was, perhaps, being the butt of a joke. He stepped from the darkness leant by the building and walked along the sidewalk. The area was quiet, void of persons. He clutched the amulet in his fist and searched the sky for direction.
Which way to the cemetery where I encountered the blonde woman and her male companion? He should secure a place to rest since the sky would soon turn to light. He turned his feet in one direction then the other, uncertain which way to go.
“Blast!” He raised one fist and railed at the night. He hated the curse that gripped him. And he hated the weakness he was displaying at the moment. He cursed beneath his breath. He was the eldest of the Sutherland males. The brother the others looked up to.
He sighed and shook his head. Things were different now. He had been brought ahead in time—given a new era to exist in. Remorse welled up inside him. He was sounding like a total fool. He had been given a chance to start over—and he was mulling around like a dolt.
He pulled in a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Memory of rutting with the blonde woman came to mind. He hadn’t been feeling sorry for himself while he was between her legs. He tried to recall the feel of her warm body beneath his, the way his cock felt when he first slid it inside her cavern. He was a man with sexual urges and he had fulfilled his lust with the woman. If he had felt remorseful while he was with her—she would have crucified him.
He shook his head. If only he had a direction to follow. He combed one hand through his hair. His first night in 2007 was proving to be less than productive—if you didn’t count the sexual episode with the blonde woman.
What was her name? “Selena.” Her name rolled off his tongue with a familiar ease. A smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. Suddenly he realized why he was feeling sorry for himself. He had the foolish idea that he would never see her again.
“Not true.” He muttered beneath his breath. Deciding he had to take matters into his own hands, he pulled the amulet from his pocket. He would find a buyer for the stone and spend the money to establish his new life—then, he would return to the blonde woman and…and…
Jarharis, state your needs.
He glanced around at the sound. His eyes darted toward the buildings along the street, across the way and into the darkness overhead. Could he be imaging things? He snarled. Suddenly he realized the stone he clutched was burning his hand. He raised his fist and gazed at the amber glow emanating from between his fingers. Aghast, he opened his fingers. The jewel lay on his palm, its surface lit with fire. His brows furrowed. Uncertainty welled up inside him. He stared at the amulet, waiting.
Jarharis, state your needs.
CHAPTER FOUR
An array of lights—amber, red, blue—splintered around him. The darkness turned to gleaming brightness, pulsed and flickered. A swell of sound pierced his ears. He snarled and tried to shut out the noise. The earth beneath his feet seemed to move, shifting his body first to one side, then the other. Thinking he might lose his footing, he groped in the darkness, searching for something solid to cling to.
Sparks as brilliant as the stars shining overhead ricocheted around him. Invisible forces pulled at his body, tugging at his clothing and pressing against his chest. He felt breathless, confused, his head throbbed. He closed his eyes to the bright lights assaulting his senses. The waves of undulating forces tearing at his body manifested shards of fright coursing through his insides.
He knew he was in no danger of being killed—he was already dead—yet the forces tearing at his body were unfamiliar and therefore deserved his attention. He tried to gain perspective of what was taking place. Was this some sort of consequence he had made for himself in journeying so far ahead in time?
An overpowering force slammed into his chest suddenly, pitching him back. He fell, lunging through inky darkness that seemed to have no end. He groped at the unknown, falling, falling…
He felt the force pressing inward, taking the breath from his lungs. Was this the end? Did a vampire have an end—aside from a wooden stake in the heart? He rebuked the thought—hurtling through the darkness without benefit of knowing what awaited him when it came to an end. Surely it would come to an end. The thought pierced his brain.
The barrage of ear-shattering sounds and the flashing of innumerable lights continued until he could stand it no longer. He opened his mouth and released a great bellow of discord. The lights paused, pulsed then resumed, seeming to close in on his mind. He gnashed his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. He could stand it no longer.
The sensation of falling ended suddenly. Something solid pressed against his back. He felt breathless. He blinked his eyes, clearing his mind. The lights had stopped their incessant flashing and were gone. He realized he was lying on his back, his arms raised as though protesting his treatment, his legs stretched out before his body. His muscles ached. For an instant he dared to believe that he had feelings akin to when he was mortal—but the notion passed in a frenzy of muddled thoughts as he got to his feet.
He stared at his surroundings, for he was no longer on the street in the darkness. He was in a room, a lavishly furnished room with a high ceiling and elaborate crystal chandelier. He gazed about, identifying a brocade covered couch and matching chair, an assortment of glass topped tables. Marble floors stretched out before him, leading into yet another room. He walked toward a tall doorway, his senses alert. Surely he was being tricked. But he was at a loss as to whom he should fear as the culprit.
He spied yet another large room stemming off the first, furnished just as elaborately, then another room materialized before his eyes. He paused and gazed about. He felt no other presence besides his own. He raised his fist clutching the witch’s amulet and stared at it. His fingers ached, his muscles clenched so tightly that his knuckles were painful in the tight clasp.
Finally deciding that he was alone, he strolled through the many rooms, seven, he counted, the last being a darkened bedroom. He smelled the fragrance of soil before he set foot inside the chamber.
Chamber? Indeed. The room was a chamber fashioned very much like the one he had sought solace in at his fortress in Morganford thousands of years ago. He strode inside and let his nose guide him to the fresh earth. Serenity came upon him, soothing his senses and reassuring his thoughts. His keen eyesight honed in on the object standing before him. He breathed a sigh of relief and reached one hand out. The cool feel of earth met his inquiring fingers. A smile touched his lips. He felt weary suddenly and sought the comforting solitude that awaited him. He crawled within his beloved homeland dirt and stretched out, the amulet clutched in one hand
. He closed his eyes. The sleep of the dead was upon him.
* * * *
Jarharis opened his eyes. The room was dark just as it had been when he chose to end the first night of his time in the present. He lay still and listened, aware that he was in a foreign place. No sounds came to his ears. He levered himself up and left his earthy sanctuary.
The fragrance of earth clung to his clothing. He breathed in the aroma, once more feeling that sense of reassurance he needed so badly. He left the room and ventured out into the hallway.
I didn’t imagine the whole thing. When he was mortal, he believed that seeing was believing. And once he had been changed forevermore, he still clung to that concept, despite the fact that he had witnessed many things uncommon to either mortal or immortal man. He ran one hand through his hair, realizing that his long tresses were secured at his nape. He gazed down at his clothing surprised to see he was no longer wearing his rough tunic and britches.
“What happened?” He realized he had spoken aloud and gazed about as if expecting to see another being then, finding no one, he quickly inspected his new clothing. He wore tight fitting jeans like those the blonde woman’s companions had been wearing. His shirt was loose and open at the throat. A gold watch adorned his left wrist. Sleek black boots were on his feet. He marveled at the transformation.
Hunger gnawed at his stomach. He turned his thoughts to feeding. He walked through the rooms, searching for a way out. Finding the first room he had awakened in, he reversed his steps and found what appeared to be the entryway. A large wooden door flanked by two long windows covered in burgundy velvet stood on one side of the room. He walked to it and took hold of the brass doorknob.
Place the amulet around your neck.
He swung around at the sound of the voice, the amulet clutched in his hand. Finding no one, he raised his hand and inspected the chain on the gem. An odd feeling urged him to place the necklace around his neck. He slipped his head through the chain and the bauble slid into place between his male nipples. He looked down upon it for a second, remembering a time when he had tried to place it around his neck and could not. By some force, whether magical or otherwise, he had managed to activate the amulet’s powers.
