by Lily Harlem
He set his gaze on mine for a moment, then turned away, forcing me to drop my hands. “I’ve never fallen in love, Oscar, or even had a relationship, you know that.”
“I do.”
“But you’ve all wriggled under my skin so quickly.” He rubbed over the tiny bite marks on his wrist. “If I’m not thinking about you, I’m thinking about Lloyd or Rhys or George.”
“That’s fine by me, by all of us.”
He was quiet for a moment, then, “I really hope I can help with the key, so you can all live in the knowledge you won’t burn in Hell if something does happen.”
“You will, the fable tells us so.” I pushed thoughts of Jack from my mind. There was nothing I could do to save his soul. I’d beaten myself up enough over the whole sorry ordeal. “And it doesn’t matter how long it takes. There’s no rush, and no pressure.”
“I’m trying to get my head around it.” He turned. “But thanks, Oscar, for what you just said.”
I nodded, then sat.
“I’m going to take a shower.” He gestured toward the bathroom, flexing and unflexing his fingers as he did so.
“I’ll be here.”
He glanced around. “You’re sure my demon father won’t show up?”
“As sure as I can be, but we’re not taking chances, which is why you’ve got me in your apartment and not outside your door like in Paris.”
“So back then…” His eyes widened and he clenched his fists. “You were…”
“Keeping you safe, yes. Lloyd had just found you after our long search. There was no way we were going to risk anything happening to you.”
He paused for a moment, then nodded and headed into the bathroom.
He pushed the door up but didn’t shut it.
Water splashed onto the shower tray and I closed my eyes, imagining him stripping off, the mirror steaming up, and the confusing thoughts running through his mind. He’d taken it incredibly well. The things he’d learned today would have had mere mortals running for the hills. An average guy could be forgiven for having a nervous breakdown, losing the plot, spiraling into a tailspin. But not our cambion, he was taking it in his stride.
Or was he?
He’d just stood before me flexing his fingers, fidgeting on the spot and heat growing in his cheeks.
Suddenly I was compelled to check on him. So I moved to the door of the bathroom and peered through it.
Darius was in the shower, his perfect skin dotted with droplets as though he’d been sprinkled with diamonds. He had his back to me and my cock twitched as I studied his ass—it was high and pert with two small dimples at the base of his spine.
He’s so gorgeous.
He held his face to the water. A groan echoed from the shower cubicle as his arms straightened, the muscles in them flexing and straining.
And then the room lit up. A burning bright orange and the air seemed to crackle. Sparks flew from his fingers into the shower tray, bouncing up the glass, steaming against the water.
I held my breath, mesmerized. I’d suspected he’d released sparks in the alley, when he had his close call with the demon, but I hadn’t seen them. Now I was witnessing the power he had inside in all its stunning glory.
On and on the brilliant starbursts of sparks flew from his fingertips. The cubicle was full of life and heat. He moaned as though the effort of releasing them pained him, or exhausted him, one of the two.
I wanted to go to him, but stopped myself. I got the feeling releasing sparks was a very private thing for Darius. He’d left me in the living room to do it.
But he hadn’t shut the door.
My feet twitched, wanting to step into the room. I stopped myself. Our relationship was new, delicate, and of the upmost importance. I’d already drank his blood and given him a hand job—probably done more than I should have so soon into our meeting.
At least I didn’t fuck him.
I shoved my hand down the front of my leathers and adjusted my cock. The temptation to go in there, bend him over and introduce him to man-on-man sex was almost too much.
The sparks stopped, and the sound of hissing was replaced with the splash of water again.
I ducked away from the doorway, not wanting him to see me watching. After pacing to the window I looked out.
Lloyd was at the corner of the street—hood up, leaning on a wall, one knee bent and smoking a cigarette. Two girls, arms linked, walked past him, veering closer to the curbside as they went.
I didn’t blame them. Dressed all in black, and with his dark eyes, Lloyd was handsome, sure, but more dangerous than they could ever know. Not that he’d ever been into women, unless it was for a much needed drink.
Glancing around, I wondered if I’d spot Rhys or George. I didn’t. They were either out of sight or at our apartment. Two of us keeping guard over Darius was enough…in theory.
The sky was full of stars; a sparkling blanket spread over London. I was pleased because when the demon had come he’d brought storm clouds with him. Day had turned into night, the wind had whipped up, and I’d been surprised not to hear the crack of thunder and witness bolts of lightning. Seeing a clear sky and stars allowed me to breathe a little easier. The demon was out there, but he wasn’t close.
“Hey,” Darius said behind me.
I turned. He wore a pair of tartan pyjama bottoms with Calvin Klein written around the waistband.
“You alright, babe?”
He smiled. “Better for a shower.”
I pressed my lips together, not wanting to admit I’d seen him releasing sparks.
“I’m gonna…” He pointed at the bedroom. “Get some rest.”
“Want company?” I asked.
His gaze slid to my groin.
“I just wanna be close,” I said. “Like I mentioned, we’ve got all the time in the world for the full on physical stuff.”
His shoulders relaxed, then he stifled a yawn. “I’m still getting my head around the immortal thing.”
“It’s a lot to take on board.” I sat and removed my boots. “Can I take a shower too?”
“Of course.” He raised his eyebrows.
“What? You thought vampires didn’t shower?”
He laughed suddenly, a lovely soft sound that erased the worry from his features. “I don’t know. I guess I’d never thought about it.”
I stood, undoing my pants as I straightened. “We’ve got a lot to learn about each other.”
“I’ve got a lot to learn about all of you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Darius
I lay on the bed, listening to the shower and staring at the ceiling.
I’m not going to age.
Or at least not the regular way of getting old and my body giving up. There was always the possibility of my demon father getting possession of my physical self and leaving my soul to rot—which actually sounded like a worse deal than the rest of the human race. I’d take wrinkles, dementia and incontinence any day.
Holding my wrist up, I studied the tiny fang marks over the pale blue vein on the inner side. The minute scabs appeared to be healing fast. There was no bruise. I guessed Oscar was well practiced at sucking blood, having been around so long and it being the only sustenance he had.
The shower turned off and I rolled over to face the window. The curtains had been drawn and light from the bathroom shone onto their silky black material.
Within a minute the bed dipped behind me. The scent of soap swirled around and Oscar’s hard body pressed against mine.
“You okay for spooning?” he asked, sliding his arm over my waist.
“Haven’t tried it before, but I’m willing to give it a go.” I rested my hand on his thick forearm.
“You’ll know I’m here, looking after you, if you stir in the night.”
He’d spoken by my ear, his breath chill on my neck and cheek.
“No one and nothing will harm you, Darius, not on my watch. Get some sleep.” He paused. “I don’t sleep, so have n
o fear I’ll miss anything.”
“You don’t sleep?”
“No, and would you believe, it’s one of the things I miss the most. Those few hours of oblivion. A break from thoughts. Pure blackness.”
“You’re lucky if your nights were like that…before…you know.”
“Why do you say that?”
“My dreams are vivid. Too vivid.”
“Why? What happens?”
I hesitated, not wanting to tell him that I dreamed as a woman. That my body morphed into a female with breasts and a pussy. That men in my dream drank me in with their eyes, kissed me, touched me, and on occasion brought me to orgasm.
“Don’t worry about telling me now,” he whispered. “Sleep.”
I closed my eyes and exhaled. It had been a long day with lots of revelations.
Within minutes I was slipping into slumber. My thoughts fragmented and my body sagged into the mattress and against Oscar. I wasn’t used to sleeping with someone else, but far from being strange it felt right, comfortable, as it should be.
Soon I was where I’d expected to be, standing on Tower Bridge looking down at the Thames. I stroked the curves of my breasts, then the dips of my small waist, ending on a slide over the flare of my feminine hips.
Overhead, ravens circled. An old fashioned car went past, and an urchin held his hands forward, reminding me of Oliver Twist, then evaporated. The familiar, unpleasant smells filled my nose and I grimaced, waiting for a breeze to slide them away from the air around me.
It did.
On the river the usual small rowing boat was making its way along the muddy waters. Holding three men, one a bound prisoner, it made steady progress. Again I was drawn to the prisoner, as if I knew him, as though he was important to me somehow. But how could I know him? How could he be anything to do with my life? This was a scene from years ago. Not only that, it was a dream.
Compelled to get closer, learn more, I made my way over the bridge with the intention of getting to the water’s edge. If only I could see his face clearly, perhaps that would give me a clue as to who he was and why he was so prominent in my psyche.
A sense of urgency besieged me. I began to run, aware of my breasts jiggling against my dress, the voluptuous flesh wobbling for all to see.
And look and stare they did.
I left the bridge, rushing down the steep slope toward the prison walls and the riverbank.
He had something for me, I didn’t know what.
The key.
In that dreamful moment the realization came to me. I’d known the prisoner was important. All along that sense had been with me at this point in the dream, and now it was confirmed somewhere deep in my mind. I had a surge of energy, rushing closer to the prisoner with each step, and then he was there, not the prisoner…the handsome stranger, smiling and holding a bunch of red roses.
“Hey, pretty lady.” His smile widened. “Here, for you.”
I didn’t take the flowers, instead I rested my hand on my chest, my breaths coming fast and the rest of London fading around me. I scanned the river, looking for the boat and the prisoner.
“Take these, my love.” The stranger was close, so close he crooked his finger beneath my chin turning my attention back to his face. “And now that I’ve found you I’m coming for you…soon.”
There was something dark and dangerous in the depths of his eyes that chilled me. I shuddered and tried to step away from him.
“I’m coming for you soon,” he repeated.
Part of me knew I’d wake now. This was the point the dream ended and even in sleep I was aware of that.
“No,” he said, “do not be afraid, Darius, I will care for your beautiful body in its male and female forms. You have nothing to fear.”
“Leave me alone.” I tried to twist from his touch but his grip on my chin was like a vice. Panic grew inside me. He was so strong, so evil.
“Just let it happen, do not fight.” He came closer, a strange murky scent filling my nose that made me want to gag.
“No!” I pushed at him, putting all of my strength into the shove. He didn’t react. It was as if I’d done nothing.
I was scared now. London had evaporated, the prisoner had gone. My chances of getting the key had slipped from my grasp.
“Surrender to me,” the stranger said, fire glowing in his eyes. “And I will make it as painless as possible.”
“Step away from him.”
A new voice entered my head. It was deep and authoritative, and blasted around us as if it had arrived with a bellow of hot air.
The devilish stranger turned, fury twisting his mouth. “Benedict!”
“Yes, it is I.”
I stared at the man, knowing it was the prisoner from the boat. He was bedraggled, his hands still bound, and he wore a tattered cape with a fur collar. His beard was thick and matted, his hair long, but his eyes were full of passion and determination.
“Leave, now. This is no concern of yours.” The stranger left my side, much to my relief, and rushed to Benedict. He seemed to float rather than walk, and dry leaves swirled around him.
“This is my concern. Darius is my concern,” Benedict said.
“No, no he’s not. He’s my son. Now go. It’s my right to possess his earthly body.”
The two figures merged, as though they’d turned into black smoke and were twirling and twisting together. A weird howl rang out, an ear-splitting scream that chilled my bones. It was hard to breathe, and my heart was thudding.
“Darius.”
Someone was speaking my name.
“Darius, wake up.”
I spun around to the blackness. The bridge had gone. Everything had gone.
“Darius.”
Oscar?
The scream continued, loud and frantic. I flailed my arms and kicked my legs, desperate to get away from the swirling evil.
“Darius, babe, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Strong arms tightened around me and my back was pressed against a hard chest.
It was me making the awful screaming noise.
“Shh,” Oscar said into my ear. “It’s okay, calm down. It’s all okay.”
I clamped my mouth shut, but immediately a sob bubbled up. Adrenaline was surging around my system. The need for fight or flight had well and truly taken hold. Flight, it would have to be flight—I could never fight the stranger. He was too strong and too wicked. More than I could take on.
My father.
I opened my eyes. The enormity of who he was bowling through my emotions so violently it was like my thoughts were skittles, scattering every which way.
I snatched in a breath.
It had been him, all along, in my dreams. He’d never been far away despite what I’d thought. My father had been with me, at night, for years.
“That’s it, just relax, relax and breathe,” Oscar whispered. “I’ve got you, you’re safe. You’re safe here with me.”
“I know,” I managed. “Thank you.”
“Well done.” He held me tighter, wrapping his thick legs over mine and curving his body around my back and ass. “It’s over now.”
“But…but it’s not,” I managed. “This is just the start.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told you I had vivid dreams, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well this one was more vivid than most, and it’s a recurring dream.”
“So you’re used to it.”
“I was…but it’s just changed.” I gripped him tighter.
“Go on.” His voice was deep, as though laced with a new concern.
“I…” I paused. “I just saw my father.”
“Your father?”
“Yeah, in my dream, and what’s more…”
“Tell me.”
I was aware of the tension radiating from him. He was worried.
Are my dreams important to the vampires?
“You have to tell me, Darius, it’s the only way we can prote
ct you.”
“My father is getting ready to possess me, and Benedict was trying to stop him.”
“Benedict?” He sat, tugging me with him. “You dreamed of Master Benedict?”
I nodded and squeezed the bridge of my nose. “Yes, that’s the name of the prisoner in my dream. He’s been in it all along, from the very first time I had it, but I’ve only just learned his name.”
Oscar stared at me with his eyes wide and his lips in a tight straight line.
“What does it mean?” I asked.
“It means we need to call the others and get them over here now.”
“We do? In the middle of the night?”
“Night is when we function best, and let’s face it, we’ll hardly wake them.”
“I guess.”
He stroked my cheek. “I’ll call them, then you can tell them everything. This is getting serious, Darius. Thank goodness we found you when we did.” He paused. “Time is running out, and that’s something I never thought I’d say.”
Chapter Fourteen
George
Ten minutes ago I’d been relaxing in our apartment, laptop closed for once, and listening to the sound of the city at night—sirens, fox calls, drunken voices below and in the distance a car alarm.
Now I was sprinting through the streets with Rhys. Darius filled my thoughts. I ached to see him, to be with him, to confirm to my inner self that he was okay.
If he isn’t I may as well go to Hell now.
He was our savior, the ethereal man who could save our souls. If there’d been one thing that had kept me going all of these centuries it was knowing he was out there, somewhere.
And Lloyd, clever bugger, had found him in Paris. I wished it had been me, but I’d pushed those thoughts aside. We had him in our sights and that was all that really mattered.
Rhys’s shoulder brushed mine as we ran. Our speed was swift, likely humans in our midst would only see a blur of light and feel the gust of air as we passed. Usually we were more careful to be completely inconspicuous when running but Oscar’s phone call had rid us of that need.
One priority—Darius.
When we reached the threshold of his apartment we both hesitated.
