Kindred (Kindred, Book 1)

by Nicola Claire

  I opened my eyes to find Nero kneeling in front of me. He didn't have a strand of hair out of place, his clothes were immaculate, no rips or tears or crumples or dust, his face a shining glow of sweat, but that was the only indication of him having fought. He laughed, his smile bringing such joy to me I was momentarily shocked at my body's response to it.

  “So, little Kiwi. It seems you really can fly after all.”

  Chapter 33

  Cairo

  I couldn't imagine what I looked like, but I had felt better, I knew that much. I struggled to get to my feet, only to find my knees crumple under me again, then Nero's arm wrap around my side. I wanted to let the blackness in, flow towards that nothingness and Michel, but I needed to know what else was happening here, what to expect when we arrived. So, I took a steadying breath in and slowly released the tension from my body. It kinda worked, well sort of.

  “Better?” Nero asked, his arm still held around me, his warm body up against my side.

  “Yeah. Sorry I was late.”

  He laughed as he led us over to some seating that had miraculously remained intact. I could still feel the warmth of his touch even when he pulled away and sat down next to me, not touching, but almost.

  “I should say you were right on time, Kiwi. Perfect in every way.” His eyes were shining brightly, the gold flecks dancing in the cinnamon swirls within. Wow. I realised I'd been staring at him a little longer than I should have and quickly ducked my head. So much for remaining cool under pressure then.

  He sat back against his seat, winced a little and let out a sigh.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Nafrini will heal me, I will be fine.” He looked up sharply then and said, “I see you have let your kindred heal you too, these injuries are all today's.” His hand reached out as if to touch my cheek, but stopped mid-way, a look of uncertainty on his face. I had never seen Nero look uncertain before, intense, not uncertain. He rested his hand back at his side. I think he may have even sighed again, but I'm not sure.

  “What happened, Nero? How did they get so close?”

  “They outnumbered us, 3 to 1, not impossible odds, but they appear to be well prepared. That was not their first wave today. The attack began at sundown, first a group of twenty, then when we had dispatched them, another group similar in size, then again another and so on and so on until now. This, I think was their fifth group.”

  “That doesn't make sense. If they had that many vampires, why not hit at once and overpower you from the start.”

  “I am not sure.” He paused, thinking it over, then added, “I think they were targeting the unjoined vampyres, they would fight myself and Nafrini off and our two other joined pairs, but not attempt to kill us, but they would kill the other vampyres in our line, those who have not yet joined. I didn't notice it at first, but in reflection that seems to be the case.”

  “So, they're intention is not to wipe Nafrini and you out.” And therefore also not me and Michel. “But, instead to capture you?”

  He looked at me, then a slow look of comprehension lit his eyes. “I had not thought of that. Why would they?”

  Despite the gravity of the conversation, I couldn't help feeling a sense of joy at Nero asking for my opinion. Here was this amazingly talented Nosferatin, old beyond my years, intelligent, clever, had an answer for everything, yet asking me a question with such brevity and intent, expecting me to be able to contribute an adequate reply. How is it when I was around Nero he made me feel big and yet when I was around Michel he sometimes made me feel small?

  “I'm picking there aren't enough of us, the Nosferatin, for them to carry out their plans. We're precious, important to their success, they can't afford not to have us on their side.”

  “Surely they would know we would not join them?”

  “Could they make us? Hold something of ours as ransom, force our hand?”

  Nero's face darkened at that. He ran a hand through his short black hair, somehow making it tidier than not, the golden brown skin on his muscular forearms rippling with the movement. I found myself licking my lips and had to force myself to look away. What was wrong with me? Nero was sex on a stick to be sure, but (1) He lives in Egypt, (2) He's joined to a mega-old, no doubt mega-powerful vampire and lets not forget (3) Michel! Stop it! I shouted in my head. Behave yourself!

  When I chanced a look back at Nero he was watching me, a small smile on his face, he held my gaze for a moment and then glanced away, with a slight look of anguish replacing the smile and then it was gone.

  “They are depleted today, but will return this evening. I must attempt to locate Amisi, our stolen immature Nosferatin. I shall use the daylight to my advantage while I can.”

  “If they come back tonight, will you be up to it? No sleep?”

  He smiled, one of his light-up-the-world-with-a-sunbeam smiles, eyes all sparkling, white teeth gleaming.

  I sighed. “You know, you really shouldn't use that unless you mean it.”

  His eyes flashed with wickedness. “What makes you think I don't, my little Kiwi.”

  I just shook my head, when I looked back at him, he had reschooled his features into the intense look he usually wears. He wasn't looking at me, but had his head down looking at the floor, his hands were also scrunched into fists at his side.

  After a while he said, “Thank you for your help, Kiwi. It shall not be forgotten. We will see you soon, I hope.”

  He wouldn't look at me again and I got the distinct impression that the conversation was over. Sometimes I just couldn't quite figure Nero out. One minute all sexy smiles and flirtatious looks, then the next minute back to his distant intense self. All these mood swings were making me dizzy, but I guess it was just who he was. Complicated. Crazy. Beautiful. Huh.

  I didn't reply, just let myself fade into that intoxicating nothingness and reach out for home.

  Michel was hovering when I came to, a look of pure relief flooding his features when I opened my eyes. “Thank God, ma douce. You said only a moment, that was more than half an hour. You have no idea what this is doing to me.” He stilled then, just a second, then quickly began to remove my clothing.

  “Hey! Hey! Steady on! Ever heard of foreplay?”

  “You have been hurt. Lucinda! What did you do?” That last was said in a very impressive growl, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my little internal monologue whimper, then run away and hide. I knew Michel wasn't going to hurt me, he was angry sure, but not hurt me. But that voice he sometimes has? Hell, it can scare the living daylights out of you without even trying.

  “I'm fine, really, stop fussing.” I was trying to flap his hands away, but failing miserably. Everything hurt like a bitch, but suddenly I didn't want him to know. I didn't want him to fuss and worry and wrap me up in cotton wool. Dream Walking was part of who I am, I had this power for a reason. And if I hadn't have gone to Nero, they may well have been captured and most of their line dead by now. I had this gift. I was not going to be put in a gilded cage and never be able to use it.

  “Michel. Michel. Michel!” It took three efforts and me holding his face in both of my hands and bringing it to mine, before he stopped trying to ascertain the extent of my injuries. I looked at those beautiful deep blue eyes and sighed. This man was going to drive me crazy, but I couldn't stop loving him. I pulled his face towards mine and brushed my lips across his, he stopped trying to lift my top off me and stilled. I tried again for a light touch, then followed it up with a nip on his bottom lip. This time I got a small stroke over my skin, a swirl of a thumb across my hip. I deepened the kiss and forced my tongue between his lips, putting as much of myself into the movement as I could, letting him know I was here, safe, with him. I had come home.

  He moaned softly against me and then pulled back. What? “You are trying to distract me, ma douce.” His voice was husky, soft. “It will not work.” Now, that was a challenge if ever I heard one.

  And I had every intention of proving him wron
g. I pulled him down further and started laying kisses against his face, down his cheek, across his jaw. He didn't resist, just moulded into me like a silky blanket draping across my body. I found his pulse beneath his skin on the side of his neck and gently sucked. The response was most promising, so I did it again, this time eliciting a low groan.

  He reached a hand up under my top and stroked my nipple, tweaking it erect, then started laying kisses of his own over my face and neck. His lips were so soft and warm, his touch sending shivers through my body. How is it he could make me feel so alive?

  He seemed quite interested in my own pulse point then, lavishing attention to that spot with his lips and tongue, whilst managing to send shockwaves of pleasure through my body with his hand. The sensations battling each other for my attention, writhing inside me like molten lava, swirling around me like delicate feathers, touching my every nerve ending, everywhere.

  I arched my back up towards him, my hands digging into his shoulder and back. He wrapped one arm around me, sitting me up in a swift move, so I settled across his lap. His other hand caressed my hair, down my back and across my shoulders, then back up to my neck, tipping my head back to expose my pulse. I knew what was coming, but it was still a small sharp shock, as his fangs entered my flesh and he began to draw. The sharp sting of his teeth was soon replaced by a wave of absolute joy, laced with pleasure and dripping in desire. He wasn't holding back tonight, but letting me feel everything that he was feeling, testing me to see if I could cope.

  If sensing my emotions was anything as intense as this was for me right now, I couldn't believe Michel had handled it all so well. This was blinding in its purity, crushing in its intensity, driving right into my soul. Suddenly I couldn't get enough of his skin against mine, I needed to feel flesh on flesh, to run my hands up his muscled body and sink them in his beautiful long hair. I started unbuttoning his shirt while he continued to drink me in, somehow managing to concentrate on each button, each button hole, until I had the shirt open and could finally feel the smoothness of his chest, down to the coarseness if his light curls leading to the darker area below.

  He flipped me back on the bed, allowing me access to his chest, all the while not removing his lips and fangs from my vein. I'm not sure how long he had been sucking on me, it had felt like time had slowed, but I knew he normally wouldn't continue for more than 30 seconds. This just happened to be the longest, most delicious, most beautiful 30 seconds of my entire life. Finally he withdrew his fangs and licked the trail of my blood running down my neck. I felt a little bereft at the fact he was no longer connected to me in that way.

  He looked into my eyes, his a mesmerizing swirl of indigo and blue laced with a sadness I had not seen before, his hand cupping my neck, the other stroking my hair. “You have no idea how worried I was, ma douce. How helpless I felt. I have not felt such helplessness since I was turned.” He paused to lay a kiss on my cheek, my jaw, my lips, then returning to look me intently in the eyes. “I do not know now how to stop feeling it, it is eating me up inside.”

  I understood that depth of emotion, one that threatens to consume you. As a human, or in my case, part-human, I have had experience learning to digest them, label them and file them where they need to go. For Michel, this was not the case. 500 years of being a vampire can make you forget. He no longer had the coping mechanisms a human would rely on in this situation. I wasn't sure how to help him, this was all part of his return to the light, but I thought perhaps I could try.

  “Maybe we need to replace that emotion with something more pleasurable?”

  He watched the curve of my smile, heard the challenge in my voice. I was rewarded with the most dazzling sparkle in his eyes and a slight twitch of his mouth.

  “Maybe, we should.”

  His head bent down again and full lips met mine, warm and soft, ducking his tongue in between my teeth, lavishing wetness and warmth inside my mouth. One hand had started moving over my stomach, round my side and then resting on my hip, rubbing circles with his thumb, the other hand was wrapped in my hair, tangled in the mess that had been created, trapping me where I lay. I didn't fight it, I had no intention of being anywhere else. I reached up and ran my own hand through his hair, the feel of it so soft and silky against my skin, the colour so deep in the low lights of the room. My other hand rested on his chest, not pushing, but lightly tracing the lines of his muscles, trying to commit to memory the feel of his hot skin.

  Michel lifted his eyes to mine, the soft indigo and blue mixed now with a darker amethyst and magenta, colours that used to frighten me, but now only made me lust for him more. There was still a haunted look to those eyes, one that reached out and sang softly to me, called for me to soothe him, to replace that look with something else. I pushed against his chest and he let me roll him over. I ended up straddling him across his hips, my short skirt riding up high on my upper thighs, his hands finding natural holds on my hips, just under the fabric of the skirt. I quickly lifted my arms and took my T-Shirt off over my head, leaving my skin bare on my upper body except for my bra. He didn't waste any time and quickly began stoking my flesh across my hips, stomach, ribs and up to my bra, one hand pulling me down slightly while he deftly removed the last item of clothing on my chest and discarding it over the side of the bed.

  His hands found my breasts within a heartbeat, his thumb roughly rubbing over my nipples and sending a shock of desire through my body, heating me up from the inside out, sending a luscious wave of craving down my spine. He looked so gorgeous lying beneath me, his hair had come loose from its usual clip at the base of his neck and now lay dark and striking around his face, fanned out over the pillow, framing him. I took my time soaking him up with my eyes. His face was slightly flushed, the haunted look of only moments before was beginning to seep away, being replaced with a look of hunger, need, desire, that sent further warmth and heat through me, tightening muscles in much lower and more intimate places. His bare chest was impossible to ignore, I couldn't stop running my hands over every inch of his well sculptured physique. He was still wearing his white shirt, but it was open and hanging loosely to the sides, giving me free access to explore his broad chest and chiselled abs. What was with this guy? Five hundred years old and he was divine.

  I tore myself away from the wonderful view of his upper body and shuffled down his legs, until I was able to undo the button and zip at the top of his trousers and begin to slide them down. Michel simply placed his hands behind his head and watched me with half closed eyes, taking in everything with a lazy sexual gaze. He knew what was coming and had no intention of stopping me. That heated look, filled with such confidence and satisfaction, made me even wetter. I could tell he had noticed as a small shudder went through his body, making him close his eyes momentarily and take a deep breath in. I waited for him to open his eyes again and then took hold of him firmly in my hand.

  Our eyes stayed locked on one another, his length swelling beneath my touch, his breathing coming a little more raggedly, but he was determined to keep hold of my gaze. It was me having trouble concentrating, not him. Finally, I could stand it no more and I bent my head down and took him in my mouth. Warm and hard, yet so soft and wet, he responded with a quick intake of breath, his body going rigid, then slowly relaxing and tensing, one after the other, as I continued to lick and suck and nip and taste all of him.

  It was hard to think of anything else, I was so consumed with the thought of pleasuring him, teasing him, creating any response I could, anything to make him forget that feeling of helplessness and replace it with something else. I did not want to ever see that haunted look in his eyes again, if I could help it. It was only because he touched me, gripping my shoulder, that I became aware he had been saying something, so intent on what I had been doing.

  “Ma douce, if you do not stop now it will be all over.” His voice low and breathy.

  I pulled back and glanced up at him then and was rewarded with the most amazing look of craving and yearning and need
in his eyes, not a glimpse of the torment he had shown me before.

  “Mm, well,” I licked my lips, he groaned a little under his breath. “I think my work here was done anyway.”

  He gave me a look as if to say not in this lifetime and launched himself at me, we went tumbling over the side of the bed in a tangle of limbs and sheets and sweat soaked bodies. I let a yelp out only to be replaced with a moan as his mouth found mine and his hands began to work their magic over my body.

  “Now, I think it is my turn, is it not?” Michel flashed a mischievous look at me before starting to kiss the side of my face, down my neck, over his mark where he seemed to be able to elicit the most delightful sensations from and on round down my throat and clavicle towards the dip between my breasts. His hands finding my rear and then round to my thighs, stroking, teasing and kneading. He somehow managed to skip kissing my breasts, the obvious exclusion of them making me only want his attention there even more and suddenly he was down at my belly button, lavishing attention there. Who would have thought a tongue in the belly button could be so erotic?

  Michel laughed. I must have said that last bit aloud, but I was sure I hadn't.

  “You are throwing your thoughts at me, it is most delightful, ma douce. Please do not stop.”

  I felt a blush creep up my face, but it was soon forgotten because Michel was on a mission to find as many erogenous zones as he could. He'd moved on from my belly button to my hip and then so slowly, kissing and licking and nibbling his way down to the crease at the top of my thigh. I sighed, I couldn't help it, it just felt so damn good. He paused there a little while to make sure I was getting the attention I needed and when I let a little moan out, he simply moved away, further down my thigh, towards the inside of my leg. So close to my wetness, but never actually nearing it enough to satisfy the sudden urgent hunger for him to be there.