by Poppet
He re-sheaths the tray.
"Salt shaker, perfume, chocolate, wallet, rose, tissues, pin, scissors and measuring tape."
He smiles down at me. Offering me a hand. "Ever danced the Rumba, Phoebe?"
I shake my head as he extricates my derriere off the chair's cushion to find itself squeezed by his strong hand. He spins me as the music changes. Hands on my hips he starts rotating them against his groin. Giggling helplessly, "Seithe that is SO ticklish!"
"Pay attention baby girl," deeply clear in my ear. "Feel the rhythm."
He helps my shoulders rotate, reminding me of a flamenco dancer, arching my back, so that cleavage juts, my peachy shape highlighted against the skirt of my black dress. Holding one of my arms up straight, he teases it into a slow rotation. I cannot stop myself from giggling madly when he spins me out and catches my hand, spinning me back. This is so my mother's scene. Seriously not mine. The way he keeps spinning me this way then that, I feel like a headless pigeon.
I stop, giggling, refusing to move as mirrors step out of the shadows with torches being ignited.
He grins at me, "Resist this." And he grabs me, pulling my hips tightly against him. Two steps sort of back, and then he walks in this weird pelvic thrusty jiggle into my pelvis.
Fuck me, slowly.
One lazy arm commanding around my waist moving me round him, every so often dragging my foot. A giggle bubbles out again. He holds my hand up to my left facing me, "Copy me. Be my mirror baby."
I dare say my heart starts getting flirty with me when he places his hand under and between my breasts, holding me against his body, rotating our bodies in unison. I play along. I let him command my body, feeling breathless and silly when it ends, "Okay no more of that!"
Smiling at me, he mentions, "So you don't like the Rumba or Salsa or Mambo?"
"You're too old for me, maybe you should be dating my mum, she'd love this."
"What is dance, Phoebe?"
"A waste of time and completely destructive to your image."
"It is memory."
Right! Duh!
He leads me back to my chair and tray. As I sit down he manifests a jug of my all time favourite!
I am repelled off the seat into his arms, winding my arms tightly around his neck, pulling myself in for a kiss.
"Margaritas! How did you know?"
"Baby girl, I told you your tastes are in your blood. I know what you like and how often you like it."
Laughing, I cannot resist, "Then why am I still wearing this dress?"
"Because tonight, you're working for your pleasures," gets dropped by a throaty seductive baritone into my ear.
Lordy, I am so addicted.
I do as commanded, drinking away absently at my sludgy, salty margarita. I suppose it fits the music too, doesn't it? After about forty-five minutes I'm finally recalling all of the objects on the tray.
He pulls me up to stand, the lights gut. Hot palms soak through the skinny material into my cleavage, held in each hand, his breath caresses my neck where my hair is tucked away, draping long over my left shoulder. My head drops back, against his chest, when I feel the lurch.
Chapter 28: Revisited
THUMPING music starts vibrating through my chest as we're plunged into darkness - light - dark - light - light - DARK.
Now we're talking!
Pirouetting around I press my hips into his, feeling the buckle imprinting against my upper abdomen, trailing a nail down his arm from his shoulder.
Slipping palms behind him I hold onto him tightly, flowing gently against him with only my upper body, like a belly dancer, the smooth satin slipping against his naked torso, highlighting my nipples, long hair snaking over my bared spine.
Entwining my fingers through his, I trace lips, breathless kisses over his skin plunged in and out of black blindness, still moving as if by a breeze, until with a drum pound I bite hard, arching my neck in pale exposure, I laugh seductively up at him.
His eyes are so brightly silver. His hair is white. One hand grips my hair in the nape, keeping my head still out of fear of pain. His mouth penetrates mine in such a primal way that my heart accelerates with exhilaration.
Another hand clamps under my thigh, exposing my leg as I take the hint and wrap my leg around his as high as I can without ripping the dress. I let him drag me, half carried until I'm thrust into a wall.
Despite the fervent kissing my sensory perception is chattering noisily at me. I smell strange and unfamiliar scents. I have a nervousness working macramé in my stomach. I feel other people, the weight of their staring.
He releases me and I push his shoulders back, shoving him against the wall. Weaving with the rhythm of the gothic grunge, snaking my tongue down over his skin, flirting with intra navel hairs. Hips, knees, rotating shoulders, hair, all subliminal in erotic sensuous snaking, matching the tasting of his contours beneath my tongue. Again the chorus has him ensnaring my hair, pulling me up, pounding me hard into the mirrored wall on the dance floor.
Holding my wrists tightly against the smooth cool surface. A strong scent rushes past, catching my breath with it. He ignores it as his hardening body moves against mine, teasing, tempting.
The next second he's gone. Catching my breath I take a step forward away from the wall. The strobing messes with my senses. Next flash he's in front of me, squeezing a nipple between hot fingers. I pull myself closer, breathing in the allspice now on his breath, running the tip of my tongue over his lip, flirting into his mouth.
Between seconds he's gone. Instantaneously returning, rubbing his body against my exposed shoulders and spine. I lean back, swaying with him. I stagger as he disappears again. Smiling smugly to myself I realise this is vampire flirting. *Catch me if you can.*
I close my eyes, probing the space around me, seeking the sirocco scent, the familiar light vibe, my anomaly. I sense his approach, catching his hand in mine.
"That's my girl," floats into my ear before he disappears again.
With my eyes closed I feel fear encroaching, there is someone I don't like right next to me now.
My eyes, open, staring at ten past two position, red eyes glow back at me. I let my inner ESP reach out, recognising him now. "Get lost Grastle."
"Where's your sponsor, woman?"
Laughing with mild relief, "Right behind you."
"Grastle leave her. You are unwelcome."
Grastle turns and glares, veins start popping out, shocking me silent. "She's marked."
And he disappears.
Seithe steps into my space pulling me tight to cloak his body, one hand holding the small of my back against the bulge behind his zip, his voice oddly dangerous, "I'm going to leave you with Darise for five minutes. No longer I promise."
My mild arousal flees, "Okay."
I know somehow this isn't the time to argue or demand an explanation. I let him lead me by the hand away from the floor, to the bar. A margarita appears next to my hand as Darise smiles salaciously at me, "Good evening, princess."
I notice his nod to Seithe, then Seithe vanishes. I feel strangely vulnerable right now.
"Hello Darise. How are things?"
His dark eyes flicker with red highlights, now instead of intriguing me, it makes me anxious.
"Things are always good. Seithe has been good for you. I can sense the difference."
I know my excited flush is draining out of my cheeks, I feel like a tart dressed like this hanging out at a bar in a club full of males.
"Why don't women come here?"
"Women hunt. The guys generally like a place to hang out, catch up, chill. At night our sirens are at singles bars, luring their next sucker."
I smile at his joke, "You're okay, Darise."
He smiles back at me, "You too, princess." His eyes get distracted.
My body tenses as a hand moves my hair away and trails slowly down my spine, "Well well well, it's little Phoebe."
Darise growls in an effective guttural way, "Hands off, Jowendrha
n."
"Tsk tsk. I'm simply making amends with the new addition to the family, Darise. No need to get confrontational with me."
Darise's eyes flicker red flecks.
"What do you want, Jowendrhan?" My guard is up and I'm feeling very alone right now.
The bastard leaves his hand on my skin and it's heating up. He leans against the bar, shielding me from any view of anyone else.
Speaking softly into my ear, forcing us into intimacy. "I'm apologising for enjoying you, Phoebe. Forgive me."
Hmmm. Is this because Seithe won their little sparring match, or is he messing with me?
I flick nervous eyes to encounter his, still silver. I like knowing their body language.
Darise's voice intrudes, "I'm watching you, Jowendrhan."
Jowendrhan doesn't take his eyes off me, "I know you are."
Then Seithe's brother whispers softly, heating my ear, my neck, stirring the hair in my temple, "We got off on the wrong foot."
"You mean I got off on the wrong hand."
He laughs, "You are unlike your kind."
"I just don't conform, Jowendrhan."
"That's why we like you. You're different."
I lean away to focus on his face. Lordy, he is so much like Seithe that if I didn't know better I could easily confuse them.
"If I say you're forgiven will you go away and leave me alone?"
I watch his eyes survey around us, "Not such a good idea tonight. Seithe and myself have our own issues, but there's no way I'm leaving you to fend for yourself smelling the way you do."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Leaning in he whispers softly, "You have fuck me oozing out of every pore darling."
Heat chases up my neck to infuse my cheeks.
He laughs throatily, "You are one of us. They can't have you. We've bonded, I'm allowed to sponsor you and get in their way when Seithe is off on his own little mission."
Cold blue eyes flick down into my cleavage, "So typical of him to leave a lovely alone and vulnerable."
Darise hisses, "She's not alone, you reject."
Silver eyes flare, "You're the reject red eye."
For some reason I have the need to stand up for Darise who's only ever been nice to me, "He's not fully red. Do you call your sister a reject too? Leave him alone or get lost."
Jowendrhan laughs, bathing me in allspice tinted breath, "I do love your loyalty. I wonder how often it will be tested."
I arch winged black eyebrows sarcastically, "Are you always this charming or do you come standard built as a complete ass."
"Funny how your nipples don't agree with you."
I look down and notice they're hard, "It's because you breathed on me." Defensive automatically. Justifying myself instinctively.
So softly he mentions into my ear, "I love your responsiveness. Lying in bed with you, I could play you all night and not get bored."
"Stop it, Jowendrhan."
He smirks indulgently, a perfect copy of his brother, "I didn't come to stir you up my love. I simply came to stand here so that red eyes will leave you alone. Sooner or later you will realise I am not a threat, I'm an ally."
"Yeah, the kind that bugs your room and sells your secrets to the enemy camp."
"Let me taste you and I'll be good."
"No. No more swapping body fluids with you."
"Aw, did you get chastised for being so eager to give me your blood?"
"No." I stare determinedly away from him. Where the hell is Seithe?
"He's out binding Grastle, to find out what he meant by saying you're marked."
Curiosity wins, I stare boldly back into silver eyes, "Do you know?"
"Of course I know. Someone has issued a challenge. It's anonymous. You're the prize."
"Screw that. I have free will. None of you can touch me, my voice is my weapon."
A hand tilts my chin up, his nose is so close to mine, "You are far too intelligent baby girl. But what happens when someone closes your mouth? How do you stop them then?"
"Jowendrhan, do you not learn? Get your hand off my woman."
SEITHE! Relief floods through my tense body.
Jowendrhan drops his hand and steps away, "Just picking up the slack, Seithe. For once you can thank me for being in the right place at the right time."
"I'll thank you for getting lost right now."
Jowendrhan stops, lifts my hand and kisses it, "Always a pleasure defending your honour, Phoebe." He flicks his eyes at Seithe as he mumbles into my ear, "Don't always believe what he tells you."
Then he vanishes.
Chapter 29: Fallen
The fun has fizzled I can tell.
"Your world is way more complicated than mine."
Seithe steps in, wrapping an arm around my waist, speaking to Darise. "Call me if you hear anything." He inclines his head briefly, "And thanks."
Darise knows and smiles at me, "Bye princess."
And I'm left stumbling, trying to find balance after sitting, as we arrive back in the passage in Seithe's home.
Seithe propels my body forward into a room, lights flaring into existence. I barely have a chance to look at it when he spins me around to face him. Holy shit he looks intense.
"What's in that room? Tell me what you observed?"
"A mirror, mantelpiece, a wing-backed chair upholstered in brocade, drinks cabinet ..." I falter.
"Phoebe, your observational skills could save your life. I can't always be around."
"You're scaring me." I swallow back fear, narrowing my eyes with bravado.
"Being marked means someone has decided they can win you. This will include exceptional cunning that you are completely unprepared for. You will be watched, stalked, all of them now literally have an APB out on you. You have just become sport."
The strength in my legs vanishes.
"Sport?" I blink rapidly trying to comprehend. "Why me?"
I watch his eyes flick beyond my head, staring off, unfocused.
"There are very few silver eyes left. News has spread fast about you. It's not often a human turns up in Pravus and leaves alive. Humans have a coveted quality I cannot reveal to you."
His eyes focus intently on mine, glowing, his hair whiter than white, "You are more valuable to me as a human. I didn't want you to accept immortality. I don't want to drain you of your blood or your spirit. But someone is going to put you in a position where I may have to commit murder. This isn't as much about you as it is about me."
"I'm not afraid of death. If it comes to that, let them kill me. I honestly couldn't give a shit about the next thirty-five years of working, spending five days a week in a cage just so I can eat. Two days off to recover and supposedly live a life. That isn't living life, it's existing. Let them kill me. I won't be running out of fear of death, Seithe."
He smiles, revealing those long teeth I now find sexy on him. His colouring morphs to brown, "Phoebe, I love this about you. It endears you to me. But I'd rather the fuckers left my babe alone. Whoever it is either has a score to settle with me, or desperately wants to get into your pants."
I watch him walk away into the room opposite. I stare at his shadowed spine spreading into delectable male muscles. Observing long fingers sifting through his hair as he sighs and sits down heavily on a black leather couch.
This room is new. This room yells Seithe at me. Walking forward anxiously I lean against the arch, watching him as worry steals his happy dimples from his chin and mouth.
"Maybe both?" I suggest.
He tilts his head, staring at me from beneath long brown eyelashes. "This changes everything. You can't go back to your life, it won't be safe."
I kick off the heels and pad to him barefoot, kneeling between his legs to stare up at him.
"I can't just disappear."
A heavy sigh covers me with responsibility. Somehow I know this is all my fault.
"It's not your fucking fault." It's a bitter explosion that leaves me uncertain. He's so angry, he'
s seething. That almost makes me want to laugh, I smirk up at his tense face, my eyes sparkling with silent mirth.
Surprising me he smiles back, so charming and seductive.
A hand releases his head and snaps the strap off my shoulder. Music starts roaring through the room as the lights extinguish. A smile is pulled from me as I recognise Seether singing Diseased. He would love Seether with his name. Tension embalms me as an eerie red light suffuses the room, almost hiding his brown eyes from my sight completely.
It hits me that he's feeling threatened. He's trying to hide himself from me.
He speaks into my ear in such a harsh unnatural way, "Do you know what they'll do to you? Do you have any idea why I need you to wake up!"
I'm feeling unsettled. He's oozing aggression at me. I cling to my unravelling dress in this dim light, unaware that I now look like a fallen angel myself. Long straight black hair shining with a halo of infra red light. My skin white in stark contrast.
I shrink as I watch his shadow self unbuckle his belt and pull it out of its restraining loops. I can stop this. I know I can. If only I can get over the fear strangling my breath and silencing my voice.
He stands over me, pulling me up by my upper arm. My heart is going into dethcon three, hammering frantically, yelling at me to run.
Seether is screaming at me.
He's so swift I don't stand a chance in hell against his speed and strength. I bite down unintentionally on my tongue, recoiling from pain as my mouth saturates with blood. My face against the leather he was seated on.
The belt strapping my arms together, my dress gone ... naked ... face down ... darkness ... blood … violated savagely ... this isn't him. I close my eyes as he impales me ... nails searing my back ... teeth sinking into my shoulder ... a strap tightly silencing coherent speech lodged in my mouth ... hair being wrenched ... a scream gets past the strap when I smell my own skin burning in my lower back … the incineration so blinding hot ... tears free falling ... so much pain ... agonising pain ... too much burning … burning … burning … BURNING ... my hearing fades … released in mercy to oblivion.
