I shook my head when he held an empty glass up to me. I had to work in a couple of hours, all I needed was an alcoholic induced headache on top of the one I already had in spades.
“You mentioned Light and Dark fey, if the Light went into hiding, what happened to the Dark?”
“Ah, I know this one.” Marcus piped up, somewhat pleased with himself. “The Dökkálfa had already been imprisoned by the Ljósálfar several centuries before they all finally left this world.”
Michel had said if the Ljósálfar were back, that the Dökkálfa would not be far behind. It sounded ominous and if the Light had had the Dark imprisoned, I guess there must have been a good reason for it. Did I want to know?
Ah crap. “Why were the Dökkálfa imprisoned?”
Samson this time, they were all just a veritable bag of history, weren't they? “The Dark prey on humans and Light fey alike, they are cruel and vicious, although appearing human to anyone's eyes in this realm, they are far from it. The wickedest of the Fey live under the Dökkálfa Royal Court. They siphon off life force; beauty, courage, hope, love and leave a shell in its place. They have no conscience and their appetites are insatiable.”
“But don't think the Ljósálfar are much better,” Matthias added. “They steal your babies and replace them with a changeling.”
“They what?” I exclaimed.
“They have a fertility issue, so when they spot a human baby that has the potential to breed with their kind, they swap them with an umskipti, or changeling. They raise the human child in their world and then marry them off or breed them.”
Oh shit. That didn't sound promising. I couldn't deny that I hadn't heard the old fairy tales about children being stolen from their cribs centuries ago, it had a ring of truth to it. And then of course, the way Lutin had called me a mœðr, which could mean mother or mate maybe - although an utter impossibility - and how he had said his kind would die for one such as me, did not bode well. I wanted to ignore this, I didn't want to ask that question, but I'm not the sort of person to bury my head in the sand. I avoid emotional confrontations, but I never shy away from uncovering the truth.
Just as I was about to ask the question on my mind I had a vivid sense of Michel down the Bond connection we shared. I felt a sudden coldness settle in my stomach as though everything around me and in me was suddenly snap frozen. The emotion coming from Michel was so damn strong, so raw and so terrifying.
Michel was angry. Confused, astounded and in utter mind-numbing shock.
And suddenly I was right there with him.
Chapter 12
Punishments
It wasn't a Dream Walk, I was still aware of my body back in St. Helier's Bay in Auckland. I could still hear Matthias talking and Marcus interjecting. I could even still feel Samson holding my hand. It was as though that image, that scene, was overlaid with the one I was now standing in, next to Michel.
I had appeared to his right and slightly in front of where he had been standing, so he didn't need to turn his head to spot me, just a flick of his gaze, a slight widening of his eyes and then an almost instant return to his neutral mask, was all that told me he was aware I was present. He didn't send me a thought, because he was talking to the Champion and she can read minds. I wasn't sure if she could read mine in this particular situation, but I was betting Michel was shielding his or blanking it out as far as possible.
As for the Champion, she didn't even glance my way. She hadn't changed much since I last saw her either, which had been an unexpected visit to my home. She was still short, but don't let that fool you, this lady packed a punch. Today she was wearing a steampunk bodice with Victorian or maybe Edwardian thick deep coloured fabric, velvet and lush gaberdine, with a Fleur De Lis pattern in deep reds and gold. The skirt was full bodied and came to her ankles, with short little leather booties laced up at her feet. She wore over the elbow gloves and a small hat, perched on the side of her head with copious amounts of peacock feathers hanging over the side. Her thick dark hair was curled within an inch of its life and piled high on top of her head, underneath the mini hat.
She had exceptionally long black eyelashes, framing her azure blue eyes and two little dots of red blush, one on each pale porcelain cheek. She looked like an old china faced doll, dressed up by their owner and put out on display. The Champion however is not a display figure, she is the leader of the Iunctio's council and probably the most powerful vampire I have ever met. She isn't joined like Michel, so her power doesn't come from a kindred Nosferatin like his does, but she does have access to all the power of the Iunctio itself and as every joined Nosferatin contributes to that pool of power, she has access to a hell of a lot. It shows.
I don't know what she and Michel had been talking about, but she was glowing with threatening Sanguis Vitam and he looked like he'd just taken a whipping. I wondered if he had been punished for something and then I immediately wondered if it was because of me. Michel might piss me off sometimes and has put me through a hell of a lot lately, but there is absolutely no way I would want him punished for my mistakes. Although, if he was being punished for something I had done, it wasn't entirely unexpected. The Champion had once told me that should I fuck up, my mate would receive the same punishment as me. Michel is clearly my mate now, we are joined, Bonded and share Sigillum, there is no longer any denying that fact and I didn't for a second believe the Champion wasn't aware of that either. But, if Michel's punishment had been because of me, then I should have been punished too. And this little invitation to party, had not included me.
So, why was he looking like she'd just chewed him up and spat him right out again?
She started speaking, but unfortunately it was in French, so fast and fluid, I barely got any understanding of what was going on, but I did pick up the odd word or two. Something about Michel not being able to return to New Zealand until he sorted it out, but any more was past me. She went on for quite some time, so I knew I had missed a lot, but I wasn't worried about that, Michel would fill me in, in due course, what I was worried about was the way Michel said nothing in return.
He didn't offer up a defence, he simply stood stock still and held her gaze, a defiant stance as it was, but not overtly so. He was walking a fine line and she hadn't missed it.
She said something else and I got it that time; La famille, French for kindred. She was telling him to call me to him if he was so concerned with my safety. She pulsated a little more Sanguis Vitam as she mentioned kindred, the Champion has a special place for me in her heart - that's a place in the shrivelled, necrotic part of her heart. Then she went on to talk of Ljósálfar, but I only picked up the Fey word, not any of the French she rapidly spoke. It was her hand actions that told me the gist of it though, she was dismissing whatever Michel had told her about the Fey having returned.
The message in hand signals was clear, she didn't believe that Lutin was a fairy and that the portals to Álfheimr were open again. Stupid bitch. Michel flashed me a minute glance, just a warning, I think, he was probably worried the Champion would pick up my thoughts from his head. Well, he should have been blocking me then, shouldn't he?
She turned her back on Michel and started fluffing around with whatever was on her desk, a definite dismissal, but she hadn't finished.
Then surprisingly, in English, she said, “I expect an answer to my offer before the end of the week, Michel and remember I am not accustomed to being denied what I desire.”
“You shall have my answer Champion,” Michel said stiffly and turned in one swift movement, leaving her room before she actually dismissed him. How he could get away with such insubordination was beyond me. He had once been a member of the Iunctio himself, but he had long lost any status that position held and was no longer considered on equal footing with her all-mightiness, if he had ever had that sort of clout at all. She didn't call after him and as I spared her a glance before I rushed after Michel she was smiling. A satisfied and somewhat predatory smile.
I had a horri
ble feeling she had been hunting my Michel and found a way to trap him.
By the time I made it out of the room he had disappeared, the corridor outside her office was empty. Not impossible, if he was in a hurry to get away from her, but I had the feeling he might have been in a hurry to get away from me too. I don't think so, buster. I sent out my senses locating him down the Bond connection and ran Nosferatin fast in that direction.
The door to his chamber, one floor down and several hundred metres on the other side of the enormous Palais building, was just swinging closed as I caught up to him. I slipped inside just before it clicked shut. An arm suddenly came around my neck from behind, crushing me to a hard body and making me gasp.
“How are you here, ma douce?” Michel whispered in my ear, his face burying in amongst my hair. I could hear and feel him inhaling my scent.
“I'm not and I don't know how. I can still see myself back at St. Helier's Bay.”
Despite his recent temper and unsaid threats to punish me, I couldn't help relaxing into his hold, moulding myself to his body.
His arm was rigid, firm, there would be no escape and he could have turned this into a painful entrapment at any moment, but didn't. He was nuzzling my neck, running his free hand down my side and resting his splayed fingers on my hip. The clincher to his current state of mind was the way he was pressing himself into me, slowly moving his hips in a gentle roll, allowing the friction to excite him. Michel had missed me and my sudden appearance had made him lose all hold of his anger. I forced myself not to laugh.
“Do not think this is a pardon, ma belle, merely a reprieve.” He spun me around and crushed my lips with his mouth, his tongue expertly slipping between my teeth, his hands moving over my back and pulling me close against him. He continued like that for several minutes, making the world around us fade away and my only thought of getting closer to that body, finding a way to let him in, maybe moving us to the couch I spied when I entered the chamber, the one he had sat on and pleasured himself at, the one he had let me visit in his mind.
He growled at where my thoughts were going and then abruptly pulled away from me, running a hand through his hair and trying to get himself under control.
“Why are you here?” he said after a minute, his voice back under control, his body no longer betraying his desires.
Me on the other hand, I still needed a moment, but I wasn't going to let him see that, so I spun away and went and sat on the couch. Let him get a mental image of me on my knees right here in front of him. His growl came from over my shoulder, right over my shoulder. I did jump just a little.
“Well?” he asked, breathing down my neck.
“I felt your shock at whatever the Champion had been saying and suddenly I appeared next to you. How do I look to you?”
I was keen to know if I was just an aura to him, like when I Dream Walk, or if it was something else. This was all new and so far, it didn't seem extremely taxing. I also felt like I could return to my body at any time. I could also still keep up with what was happening back at St. Helier's, although I wasn't able to communicate or interact there. None of the vamps had suspected anything amiss, which was a little disconcerting, they should have wondered why I was so quiet, shouldn't they?
“Good enough to eat,” Michel's slightly rough voice came from a centimetre behind my ear, I could feel his hot breath on my skin and then I felt him lift my hair aside, baring the line of my neck to his lips. And teeth.
“I meant, how do I appear?” I ignored the thrill at the thought of Michel biting me.
“I know you did,” he said evenly and then ran a long wet line down my neck with his tongue, from behind my ear all the way down to my pulse, where he gently sucked the skin over that point into his mouth.
I reacted instinctively and immediately, arching off the couch back, begging for him to touch me somewhere else. He didn't, just kept his lips on my neck, his tongue lavishing my pulse point and his breath teasing the skin over my clavicle and down between my breasts. It was beautiful and excruciating, thrilling and yet so not fulfilling.
He pulled back and I whimpered. Damn it, he wasn't even using any Sanguis Vitam on me, yet I was a wanton mess. He didn't move from behind me and I could still feel the weight of his gaze on my skin, like a hot brand it seared me, making me fidget and squirm.
“So?” I asked, trying to take some control back over this encounter and steer the conversation towards a more business-like ground. “How do I appear, is it just an aura?”
“You smell good too.” That wasn't an answer to my question, but somehow I got the impression that Michel wasn't paying attention to my voice anymore, his mouth was back on my neck.
Small nips and bites as he made his way from ear to pulse point again, inhaling my scent while he tracked across my skin. Once again my body betrayed me and once again he wouldn't touch me anywhere else, accept my neck with his lips, teeth and tongue.
“You taste even better.” Another small bite, no fangs, just teeth, I wasn't even sure if his fangs had descended yet or not. I wanted them to, I wanted him to drink from me so much. I had never wanted something so strongly before in my life.
“I have not fed this day, I could feed from you and not a donor.”
Yes, I thought, do it.
“Or I could call a donor here and have you watch.”
Oh. I was getting it now, he was setting up my punishment. He might have been distracted when I first appeared beside him and then when he confronted me in the chamber as I arrived, but he'd got himself under control now and his anger, or at least, his desire to punish me had returned.
“Shall I feed from another and force you to watch?” he asked softly, licking above my pulse and sending unanswered shivers down my entire body.
I licked my lips, but refused to answer his question and play his little game. I wanted to stand up and turn and face him, I wanted to throw something back in his face, I even thought of getting my stake out and brandishing it before him, but I didn't do any of those things, because he had me trapped, beneath his mouth, his tongue, by some strange ability I couldn't even grasp. Maybe it had something to do with how I had come to him, responded to his emotional state, flowed down the Bond connection we shared, but somehow he had control over me and as soon as I acknowledged that, he laughed.
“I see.” His voice was a predatory purr, he'd heard my thoughts and he liked the idea of controlling me, trapping me. “I think I shall make you watch.”
My heart started thudding in my chest, I opened my mouth to tell him he was being a bastard and to stop, but nothing came out. His hand came around to my chin and he turned my face to the side, letting his lips brush against my mouth, like a thief stealing my voice, he stole my will to fight. I kissed him back with abandon, begging with my mouth for him to take me in his arms, to touch me, anything I could to break through the Dark shell he now wore, but he still only used his lips, his tongue. Nothing else. His hands rested back on either side of me, by my shoulders on the couch, his body leaning over mine to kiss me with his lips, nothing else.
“I won't feed from their wrist either. Where shall I feed from?” he asked softly, moving away from my lips. “Here?” He kissed above my carotid, on my neck, his preferred place for feeding from me.
Then suddenly he appeared in front of me, on his knees, pushing my legs apart. His eyes held mine and it occurred to me that his looked different, darker, not deeper, but actually darker. I wondered briefly if that was also Darker with a capital D, but then his head dipped between my legs and I my heart leapt to my throat. This could not be happening.
“Or here?” he said roughly, somehow managing to strip my jeans off me and then push up the shortie PJ bottoms I had been wearing under them - the black cotton ones covered in little hot pink kittens - and laying a kiss on my femoral artery. A place he would only ever feed from during sex.
“Would you like to watch me feed from a donor from here?” he asked, his voice turning to steel. “Is that what I sh
ould do?”
I knew he could read my mind and although I couldn't talk or even throw a thought at him, I could think, to a certain degree, so I just let myself respond in my mind. Let my thoughts tumble. You are a bastard, Michel, you can be a real prick. He was threatening to feed from another, in a chamber similar to the one where he had fed from a Blonde French girl and then fucked her, the last time we had been here. What the hell has happened to you?
The problem was, I knew he could carry this through to completion, it would have been a punishment fitting the crime, or so his Dark thought. But if he did and I managed to get back to my body, I would leave him. If he did this to me, it would be crossing that last line, that last forbidden step. If he did this, I would leave.
His eyes flashed a dangerous combination of magenta and violet. My thoughts were a challenge that only fuelled the flame.
“How would you have me punish you, kindred? You defy me at every turn.” His eyes held mine, his body not touching me, but the heat he was creating in the space between us was scorching my skin. I shifted beneath its onslaught.
I wanted to say, screw you, I wanted to yell, you're not the boss of me, I wanted to scream, don't do it, don't do it, don't do it until he stopped this cruel game and released me. Kissed me. Bit me. I no longer cared what, but so long as he didn't call for a donor and feed from their neck or thigh in front of me.
We held each others gaze for so long, it was as though we were having a silent conversation by the look in our eyes alone, no words needed. I was saying, you're better than this, he was answering, you have more faith in me than I do, I was replying, it's just the Dark talking, you can fight it, he was saying, I am Dark, it is what I am, I was arguing, no it's not, I've seen your Light and he finished with, watch and I'll show you how Dark I can be.
He stood up with purpose and reached for the phone on the wall. He quickly said something in French, which I had no hope of translating, not because it was difficult, not because he spoke rapidly and too fluidly for me, on the contrary he wanted me to understand every syllable, but I didn't because I couldn't allow myself to hear those words. I just couldn't.
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