Ward of the Vampire: Complete Serial

by Kallysten

  Morgan pressed a kiss to my temple.

  “If you weren’t in pain, there’d be hell to pay for that.”

  I turned my head, seeking his mouth.

  “Lucky me.”

  He kissed my lips softly and murmured, “Be right back.”

  He slipped out of the bed, and I watched him go, then closed my eyes. It felt surreal to have him here, in my apartment. For once, he was in my space, not the other way around. The change was nice. I tried not to wonder how long it’d last.

  I heard the distant buzzing of the microwave, and soon Morgan returned with a bowl set on top of a plate. I sat up with a groan, propping myself up against the pillows and holding my hands out to take the bowl from him, but he settled on the bed next to me, careful not to spill anything, and didn’t relinquish the soup. Instead, he plunged the spoon in and slowly extended it to my mouth.

  He’d done this at the mansion, but I’d been mostly out of it back then. This time, I was fully awake if still in pain, and even though it was nice to have him feed me one spoonful after the other, I couldn’t help feeling a little silly—and saying so.

  Without ever stopping, he shook his head.

  “Come on, you’re enjoying this; don’t deny it.”

  “Enjoying you waiting on me?” I snorted. “Of course. It’s absolutely worth the pain. Because you never, ever take care of me if I’m not in pain. You’re a terrible, horrible boyfriend.”

  He froze, the spoon halfway to my mouth, and I had to lean forward to get my next sip of warmth.

  “Is that what I am?” he asked, a little choked up.

  I frowned at him, surprised by his startled expression. I hadn’t meant to hurt him. I patted his knee.

  “Of course you’re not terrible,” I said softly. “You’re the very opposite of terrible. I was just teasing you.”

  “No, not that. You called me your boyfriend. I think I’m rather too old to be a boy anything.”

  He tried to make a joke of it, but I could tell the word had surprised him. Why had it, though? I’d left him twice, but I’d always made it clear what he meant to me. Or at least, I’d thought I had made it clear. Maybe I’d been wrong. It was hard to think.

  “What are you, then?” I asked. “My lover?”

  He started to feed me soup again.

  “It has a ring to it,” he said with a half-smile.

  I grinned.

  “No, rings would call for very different words.”

  It was a joke, of course. He couldn’t manage to say he loved me, so I certainly didn’t expect him to propose or anything like that. Although… if him saying ‘ring’ in any kind of context sent my mind in that direction, even under the cover of a joke, maybe the idea wasn’t so far from my consciousness.

  He didn’t say anything, and the silence grew heavy between us. When it was too uncomfortable, I had to explain myself.

  “I didn’t mean that I want a ring. I shouldn’t try to tease you when my head feels like this.”

  Again, he was silent, considering me in between spoonfuls of soup. Soon the bowl was empty, but he just sat there, still observing me, and I’ll admit it, making me a little jittery.

  “If that was what you wanted,” he started very slowly, and I couldn’t let him finish. I wasn’t in any state to have this conversation—if it was even the conversation I thought he was trying to have.

  “I told you what I want,” I said before he could add anything more.

  His expression closed off immediately. Clearly, I wasn’t in any state to have any kind of conversation whatsoever.

  “Don’t pay attention to me,” I blurted out. “I’m not making sense. It’s the headache.”

  He stood, cradling the empty bowl in his hands.

  “I always pay attention, Angelina,” he said, no louder than a murmur. “Why don’t you sleep some more?”

  I snuggled down the bed again, curling on my side as I watched him go. I closed my eyes and listened, imagining him walking around my apartment. The thought was surprisingly attractive. I thought he’d come back right away, but I heard his voice, a rumble low enough I couldn’t make out the words. I supposed he was on the phone. Doing business? Asking Stephen for more delicacies? I didn’t care. I drifted back to sleep.

  When I woke up again, he was in bed with me, his eyes closed, his lips parted. I watched him sleep for a few seconds, then slipped out of the bed and went to the bathroom to freshen up. When I came back, I couldn’t stop myself from curling up against him even if I knew it’d wake him up—or maybe I did want to wake him.

  “Thank you for being here,” I said when his eyelids batted open.

  He wrapped an arm around me, holding me close.

  “Thank you for letting me be here. Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes searched my face. He didn’t call me a liar.

  “Really this time?”

  “Yes, really. A bit… hungover, but it’ll pass.”

  I tilted my head up and kissed him, a soft press of my lips against his. When I pulled back, he said, very quietly but also very clearly, “I love you.”

  As clear as the words were, I couldn’t help but blink several times and gape at him.

  “What?”

  The smallest of smiles graced his lips. He cupped my cheek in his hand, and I could feel it shaking ever so slightly.

  “I’m in love with you, Angelina,” he said, the words slow but strong. “That’s why I was here when you came home. I came to tell you.”

  I stared at him for long moments, remaining quiet. I couldn’t tell you what I was looking for on his features. I just know his smile slowly faded, and I hated that I’d caused that.

  “Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?” he asked.

  I nodded and swallowed the lump in my throat.

  “It is. But only if you mean it.”

  The smile made a timid return.

  “Would I have waited in an empty apartment for four days if I didn’t mean it?”

  I knew what I wanted to answer, but I guess I was scared. Scared that he was only telling me what I wanted to hear. Scared that this was a dream, or maybe even a mind trip. Terrified that I’d wake up and we’d be back to the status quo.

  “A few days ago, you couldn’t say it,” I pointed out.

  He nodded once and ran the pad of his thumb across my lips.

  “And then you left,” he said softly. “You left me for the second time in just a couple of months. And I could fool myself once into thinking I’d get over you, but I couldn’t fool myself twice.”

  Whatever fears and reserves had been holding me back, they broke at the earnestness in his voice, at the softness of his eyes. I pressed forward and gave him a kiss, sweet and chaste, then a second one, not so chaste anymore as it lingered a little longer.

  His arms dropped to my waist and he pulled me on top of him so that I was now straddling his lap. I laid my hands on his face and held him as I kissed him again. Something shifted between us, like a crackling of ozone in the air, and suddenly there was nothing sweet, chaste, or slow left to the kiss, and we both tried to catch up on all those days apart, devouring each other’s mouths, nipping at tongues and lips and moaning into each other’s mouths.

  I’m not sure if I started to rock against his crotch first or if he started it by arching up and pressing his hardened cock right where I was so warm, so wet for him. After a moment, his hands, gripping my waist, changed the angle of my body against his, and now with every push he nudged my clit and drew moans from me. There were too many clothes in our way, but neither of us cared at that moment, and we continued to kiss and grind and gasp whenever a flash of electricity coursed through either of us.

  At a particularly hard press of his cock against my clit, an unexpected wave of pleasure crashed over me. I pulled my mouth free and threw my head back, the most shameless cry of pleasure wrenched out of me. I was still riding it out when I felt Morgan’s fingers tighten around my waist while
his body shuddered under me.

  I looked down just in time to catch a look of ecstasy on his face, eyes wide and mouth open in a silent ‘O’ as he stared at me. Our eyes remained locked as we both slowly calmed down, and when my heart had started beating at a normal pace, I lay down on his chest, wrecked and yet feeling better than I had in days.

  Let me go on the record and say that making a four-hundred-year-old man come in his pants like a teenager the first time he’s allowed to touch his girlfriend… well, if it’s not the best way ever to get over the end of a migraine, I don’t know what is.

  We both needed a good shower, but moving at that moment was the farthest thing from my mind. Morgan didn’t seem in much of a hurry to get up, either. His fingers carded through my hair in that slow, almost hypnotic gesture I enjoyed so much. I could feel his eyes on me. After the past day of pain, the moment was perfect as far as I was concerned.

  I don’t know how much time passed before Morgan asked, “Do you still want me to, even now that I’ve said I love you?”

  I was half asleep by then and mumbled against his shirt, “Do I still want you to what?”

  When he didn’t reply, I coaxed my mind back into gear and rewound the conversation. I hadn’t asked him to do anything, had I? I thought back further, going all the way back to Kauai, and drew a sharp breath when I figured it out.

  I could feel him tense when I pulled back and sat up next to him. I tried to reassure him by resting a hand on his chest. I wasn’t trying to put distance between us; I just needed to see him if we were going to talk about this.

  “Yes,” I said plainly, meeting his eyes. “I still think it’d be good for us to share this.”

  He held my gaze for a long time, then looked down to my neck and reached to caress it with the back of his fingers. I shivered at the gentle touch, then again when he said in a low, throaty voice, “May I?”

  My heart leapt in my chest, and only beat faster from that moment on. I’d never been afraid of this, and honestly I still wasn’t afraid now, but it’s useless to deny I was nervous. I knew it’d hurt, and I’m not a fan of pain. I couldn’t force a word out in reply, but I nodded and tilted my head, brushing my hair back and offering him access to my neck.

  “I won’t bite deep,” he murmured, caressing my throat with a fingertip. “And I’ll only take a mouthful, no more than that. Is that all right?”

  For a second, I thought he’d picked up on my nervousness and was trying to reassure me. But, no, that wasn’t it. If he’d believed I had any doubts at all about this, he would have stopped it. He wasn’t trying to reassure me. He was reassuring himself. He was the one who had doubts, and he was probably more nervous than I was.

  “Yes,” I said as firmly as I could manage. “That’s all right. I trust you.”

  And I truly did.

  Ever so slowly, he leaned forward. I could see the hesitation on his face, and I curled a hand at the back of his neck, leading him closer still until I could feel his lips, soft and cool, right at the crook of my neck. As I waited for him to be ready, I swept my thumb over the short hair at the nape of his neck, trying to tell him through that simple gesture that it was okay, everything was okay, I trusted him and he should trust himself, too.

  When he bit me, it hurt more than I’d expected. I had imagined… I don’t know. Suction, like for a love bite, maybe a little more intense. I suppose I hadn’t wanted to think about fangs actually breaking my skin and sinking into my flesh.

  I was almost proud of myself for not crying out. Surely that would have startled Morgan, and he might have stopped right away. I held on to him with both hands now—held on and held him close. After the initial pain, the suction I’d imagined finally came, but again it was nothing like what I’d expected.

  The pull of his lips on my skin, the flow of my blood up to his mouth… it was erotic, more so than I’d expected, and when I started to feel lightheaded, I knew it was more from the thought of what he was doing to me, how intimate we were at that moment, than from blood loss. I’d given blood before, and I couldn’t imagine that he was taking much. When he stopped, it was all I could do not to protest and ask him to take a little bit more.

  His mouth remained on my neck, and I could feel his tongue pushing at my skin, pressing at the edges of the wounds until they stopped bleeding. Later, I’d take a look in the mirror and discover two small red marks, like insect bites well on their way to healing.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice rough, as he pulled back and laid his forehead against mine.

  “I’m fine,” I assured him, smiling.

  “I took more than I meant to.” Now he sounded aggrieved. “Are you lightheaded? Do you feel—”

  “I’m fine,” I said again, more strongly now.

  Seeking his lips, I kissed him, coaxing his lips open and slipping my tongue past them for just a second, barely enough to taste my blood on his tongue. It was a little indistinct, but at the same time familiar from all the times when I’d nicked my fingers somehow and stuck them in my mouth.

  “What do I taste like to you?” I couldn’t resist asking.

  He took a deep breath, and his brow furrowed like he was thinking about it. Eventually, he settled on, “Sunlight. The smell of orchids after it rains. Fine sand shifting under your feet when you step into the ocean.”

  I chuckled quietly, stroking his arm with my fingertips.

  “Those aren’t tastes,” I chided.

  “Aren’t they? Who cares?”

  He guided me down, and we lay on our sides, facing each other, our faces mere inches apart, our legs entwined, our arms loosely at each other’s waists.

  “You’re not scared of hurting me anymore, are you?” I asked softly.

  “I still might if I’m not careful,” he said with a quick grimace.

  I snorted.

  “You. Not careful. You couldn’t not be careful even if you tried. Don’t make me laugh.”

  He bumped my nose with a finger.

  “But I like making you laugh.”

  “Do you, now?” I teased. “I thought you liked making me mad.”

  He shrugged, unabashed.

  “That too. You’re cute when you’re angry.”

  “I’m cute when I’m angry,” I repeated, rolling my eyes. “That suddenly explains a lot about our relationship.”

  “And you’re gorgeous when you’re happy,” he continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “Well, you’re gorgeous all the time. But when you’re unhappy, I get distracted by thoughts about how to make you smile, so I don’t see all that well. When you’re happy, I can just enjoy it.”

  My heart stuttered a little, and my breath caught in my throat. I sounded like I’d just run a hundred-meter dash when I said, “I don’t know if that’s the most corny thing I’ve ever heard or the most romantic.”

  He was chuckling when he leaned forward and laid a quick peck to my lips.

  When he drew back, I watched him and smiled.

  “You bit me,” I said, feeling my smile widen a little more.

  His eyes drifted to my neck and remained there for a few seconds before he met my gaze again.

  “I did, yes.”

  “And I’m fine,” I insisted.

  He glanced at my neck again, although not as long this time.

  “So it seems.”

  I inched closer on the pillow we shared.

  “And you’ve been joking with me, so I think you’re fine, too.”

  His lips quirked in a brief smile.

  “Apparently so.”

  “I thought it’d change things,” I said, and at his questioning look, I added, “Change you. Me. Us.”

  “Didn’t it?” he murmured.

  “You tell me. Did it change something for you?”

  Raising a hand to me, he caressed my face with a fingertip, tracing my cheeks, lips, and nose.

  “No,” he said, and immediately corrected himself. “Yes. Everything.”

  “What’s eve
rything?” I asked, pursing my lips against his finger like a kiss.

  A shadow crossed his features.

  “I was so scared of hurting you…”

  “And now you’re not?”

  “And now I know I did hurt you,” he said, pain ringing in his words. “I hurt you without meaning to. And it had nothing to do with biting you.”

  What could I answer to that? I couldn’t deny his words, because he had, indeed, hurt me. I couldn’t say it didn’t matter, because that was a part of our history, and it did matter. Every little bit of it did. I refused to say I forgave him, because as far as I was concerned I had nothing to forgive. So, at a loss for words, I offered him the next best thing: a kiss. He accepted it with a small sigh, although he didn’t try to deepen it.

  “I’m going to hurt you again, you know,” he said softly, drawing me to rest against his shoulder once more. “I’ve got four centuries’ worth of baggage. And my family is obnoxious. You should get out of here while you still can.”

  “Well, no, I can’t,” I said, and even I could hear the smile in my own words.

  “You can’t?”

  “No. I can’t leave. It’s my apartment.”

  His burst of laughter sent tingles all the way down to my toes. It was so good to hear him laugh, and even better to know that I was the cause for that beautiful sound. I waited until he’d completely stopped before I added, “Also, I’ve met your family, and they don’t scare me.”

  He glanced down and gave me an incredulous look, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead.

  “Okay,” I conceded, “they don’t scare me much. Or at least not when you’re around.” I burrowed closer into the crook of his shoulder. “It’s very nice to have you around.”

  “Very nice,” he echoed and wrapped both arms around me, holding me tight against his body.

  I could easily have gone back to sleep like that, I just felt so good right then. Still, there was one last question nagging me, and I had to ask.

  “Morgan?” I whispered. “Why did you change your mind about the biting?”

  He took a few seconds before he answered.

  “I just realized… I was terrified because you were offering me your blood, but I’d already let you give me your heart, and I wasn’t… I wasn’t taking care of it. The risk of destroying your spirit wasn’t any better than the risk of possibly taking too much of your blood. I mean… I didn’t have to choose between biting you and keeping you safe. The choice was either being my best for you or breaking your heart. Does that make sense?”