by Kit Tunstall
He nodded, his expression hardening. “Yes, but have you seen your parents slaughtered in front of you? Have you watched your sister tortured and raped by a group of agents while you fought to reach her, unable to stop them? Unable to make her whole again, to save her sanity?”
A soft gasp escaped Shaun, and her hand on his shoulder tightened reflexively.
“In the early days of the Agency’s inception, just decades after Dr. Stoker proved the existence of our kind, my parents underestimated the danger. When others fled their homes and ways of life to go into hiding, to try to avoid detection as a necro, they stayed in their home in Paris where we had always lived, thinking their discreet ways would shield them.” A harsh laugh escaped Armand, holding no amusement. “They were wrong.”
Shaun’s eyes closed. “The Paris Raid, 1934.” It was generally lauded as the defining moment in the movement to rid the world of vampires, when the Agency mobilized a coordinated effort and exterminated more than one hundred vampires in a single day. There had been more glorious assaults since then, but most in the NCA considered the Paris Raid their crowning achievement, done before technology smoothed the way for agents to detect and destroy necros more efficiently.
He clapped his hands, shattering the silence. “Congratulations on the brilliant deduction.” Armand’s brooding expression deepened, and his eyes became dark blue sheets of ice, showing nothing but her reflection. “Those involved in the raid were out to prove themselves.”
Shaun nodded. “They wanted to demonstrate to the governments of the world the NCA had a valid purpose, that funding must be approved, along with sweeping changes in the law.”
Armand didn’t acknowledge her interruption. “They weren’t fast and efficient as most agents are these days. The killings were brutal.” He drew in a deep breath before continuing. “They decapitated my father quickly, sensing he was the greatest threat. When Mother tried to stop them, three of the men hacked at her with swords, over and over. Long after she had fallen, they continued mutilating her body.”
Her stomach churned at his description of the events. She had seen photos from that night in her training, but suspected they were sanitized versions. It would make the idea of saving your race much less appealing if the agents-in-training had to confront the brutality of the slayings so early on.
“I was barely defending myself, and I couldn’t reach my sister when another group of agents turned on her. I prayed her death would be quick, as my father’s had been, but it wasn’t to be.”
“Armand.” Shaun leaned closer, placing her head on his shoulder, not certain if she was seeking or offering comfort. His only reaction was a slight lessening of the tension in his muscles, but when he continued, his voice remained haunted.
“It was near the end of the massacre, and word was spreading the Agency was victorious. Those in command had issued orders to finish up current assignments and return to base. That allowed them plenty of time to rape my sister, but only after tying her up. When I tried to stop them, they tied me to a tree nearby and hung garlic over my neck. Helpless, I could only listen as she screamed, until her voice faded to nothing. After what seemed like hours, they finished with her.”
“How did you survive?”
“Foster.” Armand’s voice caught on the second syllable, emerging as a whisper. “He was human, but appalled by what he had witnessed. After the agents slit our throats and soaked us with holy water, leaving us to bleed out slowly, he untied us. He took us to his home and tended to us.” He made a scoffing sound. “Of course, the holy water did nothing but irrigate the wounds, so his major task was to stop the bleeding. He did the only thing he could think of, which was to slit his own wrist and give us nourishment.”
Shaun blinked, trying to reconcile the action with the charming, carefree man currently in the kitchen devouring bacon and omelets. “That was brave.”
“It was foolish. If I hadn’t recovered in time, he would have died from his nobility.” Armand sighed. “I did the only thing I could to save him, which was to transform him.”
“Was he upset?”
Armand shook his head. “Foster was thrilled with his new state, even with the inherent dangers and persecution.”
“What happened to your sister?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed visibly when he swallowed, and she eased closer, placing her lips against his neck to press light kisses against the strong flesh. “Physically, she recovered, but was never the same again. Jacqueline never spoke another word. Most times, it was like caring for a child. Somewhere inside, the woman she had been was trapped, but I don’t think she really wanted to escape. Locked in a trance, she didn’t have to confront the horrors of what had happened. The only times she came close, she was depressed for days before finding her way back to the comforting state of oblivion.”
Shaun lifted her head, frowning. “Jacqueline, your roommate, is your sister? Where is she?”
“Dead.” His expression closed again.
“How?”
“I couldn’t save her from herself, Shaun, from her own torment. When it became too much for her, she killed herself.”
She cupped her mouth, shocked at the revelation. His pain, still visible, reached out to entangle her, drawing her closer to him. Her heart shuddered under the burden of accepting a measure of his agony, even as her body embraced it. Shaun pulled him to her, hugging him as hard as she could from her awkward angle.
For a long second, he remained tense, as if debating whether he could accept the comfort she offered. With a harsh exhalation, his muscles relaxed, and he drew her into his arms, settling her on his lap and returning her embrace.
Shaun leaned against him, remaining silent, while patting his back. He wasn’t sobbing, but old grief clung to him like a bitter stench. Instinctively, she knew it wasn’t an ache she could truly ease. All she could do was offer comfort while he dealt with his pain.
As the moments passed, her tension faded, and she found comfort for herself, although her pain was less specific, more of a void than grief. Although the future was uncertain, and Armand’s reaction to her could change like quicksilver, for the moment they were together, joined in a way she hadn’t experienced before.
And then the embrace changed, from one of comfort to passion, a natural progression. He roamed over her back instead of moving in soft circles, his fingers teasing the sides of her breasts. Shaun nestled closer, seeking out his neck to blow softly against the sensitive flesh. In response, Armand’s breathing quickened, and his hands moved lower, cupping her buttocks to pull her more snugly onto his lap. His cock pressed into the crux of her legs, igniting the receptive tissue and making it weep with arousal.
She nibbled on the column of his throat, working north to veer toward his ear. She nipped his earlobe while drawing it between her lips, sucking lightly. He shifted restlessly, and the stool creaked as his cock burrowed more firmly into her slit. When he tilted back his head, she honed in on his neck again, biting the area near his carotid artery with gentle pressure. She was doing to Armand what she wanted him to do to her. The realization made her tremble.
Abruptly, she jerked away from his neck, her eyes wide with apprehension. Armand didn’t allow her to flounder for long. One of his hands left her buttocks to capture her chin, bringing her face to his. Armand settled his lips onto hers with hungry possessiveness, his tongue darting between her parted lips to explore her moist recesses with confident strokes. Shaun moaned under the onslaught, digging her nails into his shoulders to anchor herself on his lap, and to keep from losing all awareness.
She was incapable of words, and he seemed disinclined to speak, but she didn’t need him to. Their bodies were communicating better than empty words. She could almost feel his emotions reflected through her own. This strange melding of bodies and emotions was new to her. Did vampires routinely experience this, was it common for their human partners to do so? Or was she sharing something special with her vampire lover?
Armand inc
hed up her sweatshirt, but stopped at her breast. Shaun expected him to withdraw to remove the shirt, but he didn’t. Instead, he moved to the waistband of her jogging pants, pushing them down. With Armand steadying her, Shaun lifted her buttocks from his lap to assist in the removal of the garment. The pants and underwear settled at her ankles, but she gave no thought to discarding her running shoes. Her mind was too busy urging her hands to be more nimble as she fumbled with the snap and zipper of Armand’s jeans.
She expressed her excitement with a breathless sound as his cock sprang free from the denim prison, unimpeded by underwear. He was hot and heavy in her hands, and she stroked the length of his cock, delighting in the spasms coursing through it with each stroke of her finger, each squeeze of her palm.
Armand threaded a hand through her hair, tipping back her head to kiss her again. Shaun leaned back further, aligning her pussy to his cock, while bringing her neck closer to his mouth. “Take me.” The words seemed to shatter the crystalline sphere enclosing them, but only for a moment. As the last word faded, Armand surged inside her, his cock filling her as pleasingly as it had last night. Her folds adjusted readily, and she arched downward, taking in all of him.
Even as she rode him, Shaun arched her neck, forcing it against his mouth. This time, she didn’t have to speak to make her request. The tensing of his shoulders and soft wisp of his lips at her neck gave away his reaction. His hesitation frustrated her, and she nudged him with her neck, while her pelvis thrust against his. He seemed content to let her control the pace of their bodies, so why not this?
With a small flash of pain, he bit into her neck as his cock surged deep inside her. The pleasure rose to a fever pitch, making Shaun oblivious to everything but the cock thrusting into her and the teeth in her throat. Her wordless cries of ecstasy overshadowed Armand’s soft sucking sounds as he drank lightly. Her pussy convulsed around his cock, and her climax was near as his cock spasmed, releasing spurts of satisfaction inside her, filling her with liquid heat.
A warm sensation accompanied her orgasm, spreading through her body as it shook under the intensity of her release. Vaguely, Shaun was aware of Armand’s teeth leaving her skin, and she laid her head against his bare chest as afterglow washed over her, filling her with sated lethargy. His arms were a welcome weight holding her against him, and his heart thumping against her ear slowed almost perfectly in time with her own.
Chapter Six
Minutes later, he shifted, moving her into an upright position. A tender kiss across her forehead couldn’t quite soften his dismissal. “Go back to the house now, Shaun. I have work to do, and I’m sure Foster is lonely.”
Feeling rejected, she got slowly to her feet, watching him. As she turned to leave, he caught one of her hands and brought it to his mouth, brushing his lips across her fingertips. “Thank you, ma belle. If I didn’t have a deadline, I would be able to show you just how thankful I am.”
She managed a small smile as the negative emotions left her, replaced once again by contentment. Shaun paused to dress before leaving the shop, turning to find Armand had already started, his shoulders hunched as he bent over his worktable.
With a sigh, she closed the door behind her to return to the house. Their differences weren’t resolved, but there was peace between them. The rest would work itself out in time.
That thought drew her up short, and she paused to stare at the SUV in the driveway. There was no time. She had to escape from them. It was what a good agent would do. Of course, she wasn’t a good agent, because she couldn’t kill them before escaping as she should, according to the guidelines she had dedicated her life to the past six years.
With a heavy heart, hearing a ticking clock somewhere in her mind Shaun resumed walking the path back to the residence. She shouldn’t dread leaving this place. Knowing the ultimate fate awaiting her at Armand and Foster’s hands, despite their passion for her body, should have spurred her to keep fighting. Instead, all she wanted to do was lose herself in them, to stay in this small house with Armand and Foster forever, and let the outside world fade away.
When she entered the dwelling, she found Foster loading the dishwasher. Somewhere along the way he had disposed of the apron and now wore immodest briefs so tight they left nothing to the imagination. Not that she needed to imagine the feel or appearance of his cock. A jolt of arousal speared her, renewing the wetness between her legs and reawakening her desire.
He wore a knowing grin when he turned to her. “Did you make up with Armand?”
A fiery blush burned her cheeks, although she didn’t know why. Maybe because she had just finished fucking Armand and was now thinking about jumping Foster. Did he know what they had done? No doubt, with his keen sense of smell, but he didn’t seem to mind. There wasn’t a trace of jealousy in his expression. Her eyes dropped to his briefs, and she saw he was hard and ready. “I think so ... for now, anyway.”
Dropping a companionable arm around her shoulders, Foster steered her into the living room, maneuvering her to the overstuffed couch. Shaun didn’t resist when he plopped down, pulling her along with him. She ended up curled into the corner with her legs across the cushion between them, and her feet propped on his lap.
“Do you understand him better now?”
She nodded as Foster cupped her foot in his hands and began running his thumbs lightly up and down the sole. “Is it really true? Did his parents die in the Paris Raid? Did you save him as a human?” Questioning Armand’s story could have angered Foster, but he seemed to understand she didn’t doubt his friend’s words. It was just almost impossible to grasp the full scale of the tragedy, and she needed it confirmed from another person who had witnessed it.
His eyes seemed haunted, and his caresses weren’t as coordinated as his gaze settled on the unlit fireplace. “Unfortunately, he spoke only the truth. It was a massacre in the true sense of the word, chérie. The vampires didn’t stand a chance, and his family was particularly vulnerable, because his father never believed it would really happen.” Foster’s gaze swung back to her face, and his lips twisted. “He believed in the goodness of humanity, the poor fool. He refused to accept the raids were coming, that humans would exterminate the vampires once the world accepted their existence. Until that very afternoon, Armand told me he was still predicting humans and vampires could co-exist in peace.”
She didn’t miss the bitterness underlying his words, lending an air of rugged dimension to his blithe nature that proved he wasn’t as carefree as he seemed. How much of the façade was the real Foster, and how much was the bitter, angry vampire lurking beneath the surface? Her throat clutched at the thought, wondering if she was anything at all to him besides sustenance, even after their lovemaking.
“I couldn’t do anything to save them when the men were there with their weapons, but after the agents left, I took Armand and Jacqueline to my home.” With a shrug, he said, “You know the rest.”
Shaun cocked her head, barely aware of his fingers still flitting over her foot. Her attention was focused on their conversation instead. “Did you really give them your blood and nearly die from doing so?”
Foster nodded.
“Why? You didn’t know them before, did you?”
He shook his head. “I had never seen them before, but when I saw what humanity had done to them, I felt I had to atone for the actions of the humans who participated in the raid, in whatever way I could.”
Reading his closed expression, Shaun decided the topic of his brave and stupid act was no longer open for discussion. Instead, she turned to the delicate subject of Armand’s sister. “So, you never knew Jacqueline before ... the incident?”
A soft smile curved his lips, one full of affection. “No. I am certain she was quite different before. The person I knew was sweet and docile, akin to a child. Jacqueline was like a doll in many ways, but there were times when darkness consumed her.” His smile slipped into a grimace. “I think she was connecting with her old self again during those periods,
but couldn’t find a way to reconcile the two halves without facing what had happened.”
In response to his unspoken grief, she reached out to touch his arms, hoping to provide a measure of comfort. “She ... I guess it became too much for her?”
“Yes.” The abrupt answer seemed to be all he was going to say as the silence stretched. Shaun was on the verge of changing the subject when he added, “There were more and more dark periods toward the end. I think she was so desperate to avoid full recall of everything that she had to escape.” He closed his eyes, clearly pained by the memory. “She fought the need to regenerate and entered the sunlight. Jacqueline never mastered her skills enough to control her body’s natural reaction to sunlight and other dangers. Armand tells me she never put much effort into it in the years before the Paris Raids.”
The silence stretched between them again, and Shaun let it stay undisturbed. Her mind was consumed with trying to absorb everything she had learned, to reconcile what she had been taught as an agent with what she had observed as their captive. Armand and Foster seemed nothing like the way she had been trained to think necros would be. They weren’t wild animals, driven only by the need for blood, without regard for their victims. They seemed civilized, well educated, and empathetic.
But there had been necros in the mansion that behaved just as she had expected. The two she and Torres faced in the first room had been animalistic and brutal, with the human remains of their feedings stacked with careless disregard.
Her head ached trying to reconcile everything. Surely, the agency was just misinformed. The agents in the early days must have been as brutal as the necros they put down, but the Agency had evolved, hadn’t it? Agents were trained to be swift and methodical, to eliminate their targets as quickly as possible. There would be harsh consequences for any agent who toyed with a necro before putting it down.
Her brow furrowed when she tried to remember if anyone had ever been tried for cruelty to a necro. Was there a precedent for the statute, or was it simply on the books to appease the public, to make the Agency seem more compassionate?
