My hands were dirty and slightly gritty and there was grease under my fingernails, but I reached for him anyway. I left a black smear on the collar of his nice shirt but he didn’t even blink.
I slipped my hand around the back of his neck to hold him still. He grinned at me, his expression gone wicked, grabbed the bottom of his shirt and eased it up, baring himself to me. I let him go and stepped back to watch as he stripped. I licked my lips. I wanted to set my mouth to his shoulders, his chest, the muscles angled down his arms, the tight lines of his stomach.
He was so big, his body and his personality, that he filled the space in any room. His hips and shoulders were broad, his thighs wide, his calves full, his feet long. I loved the way he took up space, the way he was so solid and real.
I tilted my head back so I could meet his eyes. He dwarfed most of the women we knew, petite Fertile vampires who flirted and winked and in the end worried he’d hurt them physically. They already knew he was emotionally dangerous—he never let himself get tied down. What they didn’t know was that I was to blame.
Not once, in all our years together, had I worried he would physically hurt me. I was tall too, though he still had several inches on me, and had heavy hips, a full stomach, wide shoulders, and sturdy bones. Our bodies fit together well and we made a good match.
It was such a shame he had an obligation to father baby vampires and I had no hope of carrying them in my barren womb. For the past few generations, forty-eight out of every fifty vampires had been barren, for no reason the Blood-Seers could discern, and we were still trying to recover.
I opened my arms and he closed the slight space between us, all strut and confidence and sex. He curled his arms around me and brushed his mouth against mine. He tasted like spicy cigars and the memory of someone else’s blood. I slid my hands across his bare skin from his shoulders all the way down to the small of his back, marking him with the grease on my fingers.
Darren moaned and thrust forward against me.
Delicious. I repeated the gesture and dug my nails in. His skin broke open and his blood was slick and thick and warm when it slid over my fingers. I couldn’t bite him, but I could mark him my own way, could pretend to claim him.
It was a dangerous game I played, but my heart sang whenever I touched him.
I tossed back my head and laughed. The movement wasn’t the same with my hair bound and out of my face. Darren tangled his fingers in it and jerked it out of its bun; he pulled so hard he snapped the elastic band holding it back and tore strands loose. I cried out with pleasure.
My hair tumbled down, heavy and wavy from being bound up while wet. It was the colour of a dying fire, red-hot coals very nearly hidden in black ash. He wove his hands into it deeply, pulling on it, and I lifted myself, my hands on his shoulders for balance, until I could wrap my legs around him and press my calves against the backs of his thighs.
He surged forward and bounced me into the hood of the car. I could feel his dick pressed against the inside of my thigh and it would have been an easy thing to let it go, to fuck right where we were.
We were too rough, though. I couldn’t risk tearing up a client’s car.
I rocked my weight forward, upset his balance, and sent us crashing to the floor, away from the car so it didn’t matter what kind of damage we did. He tugged on my hair, jerked back my head, and closed his teeth on my throat. He didn’t break the skin, but he nipped at me, rough kisses which curved up the column of my throat to my jaw. I twitched, rocked my hips forward and back, and ground against him.
“Amalia,” he murmured against my skin. “Touch me.” It wasn’t an order; his voice broke at the end. He begged.
I put my hands on his stomach, dug my nails into his skin, and drew blood again. The little cuts were unremarkable, something anyone could have after a night at one of the clubs, and would heal quickly. Our bites were distinguishable, but not the marks of our nails.
Blood dotted my fingers and I was tempted to suck them into my mouth, run my tongue over them until they were clean. I was strong, but I doubted I was strong enough to resist the taste of fresh blood.
Darren tugged my hair again and pulled me down so he could kiss me, thrust his tongue into my mouth, and nip my lower lip. I rocked against him, grinding down so he hit all my favourite spots, the places which lit me up inside. I tilted my hips and his dick pressed into my cunt through our clothes. If we got rid of our pants, he’d be rubbing my clit. I shuddered and rolled my hips in wide, sloppy circles.
He grabbed me, twisted, and slammed me into the ground, my back against the concrete. It was cool through my shirt and goose bumps raced across my skin. He lifted up off me long enough to toe off his nice shoes and shove down his trousers. He never wore underwear and his dick was swollen and dark, rising up from a patch of wiry black hair. He came back to me, naked, and I slammed my hands against his chest, lifting him up and over so I could straddle him again, so I was on top and in charge.
Darren put his hands on my thighs and waited, still and patient. I eased off my shirt--an old t-shirt, worn soft and faded, the sleeves torn away long ago—while he watched. Appreciation slipped through his expression and it made me throb.
I tossed the shirt aside and he moved his hands to my sides, his fingers just beneath my breasts. He breathed with me for a long moment and anticipation sparked and fizzed beneath my skin. When he touched my breasts at last, my nipples were already hard and my clit spasmed.
“Amalia,” he said again and our eyes met. He said my name like a promise, like a benediction, like a prayer. Like I was his last hope in the world and I was giving him the only thing he’d ever wanted. He swept his thumbs back and forth across my nipples and I settled myself over him. If my jeans were gone, he would have slipped right inside me. “Please.”
His voice was rough, a growl, but there was such gentleness to his request. He was like that with me, sometimes, pretty and sweet. It was something quite like submission, these moments of softness and quiet and peace.
I leant into his hands; he tweaked my nipples, twisted them, and pinched them between his fingers. I raised myself off him and he took my weight on his hands; it squashed my breasts painfully but freed me to unfasten my pants and slide them down. They snagged on my calves and I kicked hard to get free of them.
It felt like flying, the way he held me aloft.
Darren brought me down slow and I straddled him again, my legs on either side of his body. His skin was warm against mine then hot as he slid his dick inside me, as he filled me.
I caught my breath and bit down on the inside of my lip. It felt so good. My blood mixed with the venom slicking along my fangs and the taste was bittersweet on my tongue.
He cupped his hands around my breasts and squeezed, the rest of his body held perfectly still.
I could make this last. I knew how to drag things out when we were fucking, when to push and when to hold back until we both quivered, lingering right on the edge of orgasm for hours. I could make him beg to come; I could make myself die a little inside because I’d held back for so long. I could fuck him for hours and never tire.
Any minute, someone could show up with a car to repair. My friends dropped in regularly. His friends brought me work all the time. We could be caught. That was part of why we fucked in the garage. It gave me a twisted little thrill—if we were discovered, all hell would break loose in his family—and I knew neither of us wanted to drag it out.
Darren scraped his nails against my nipples and I ran a hand down my stomach, down between my legs where our bodies met. I shifted my weight, thrust my hips forward and my shoulders back, pressed my breasts into his palms, and touched myself, stroking my fingers across my clit in a steady, tight circle.
He growled and his hands tightened on me. I twisted my head and my hair fell around my face. I rolled my neck until I could watch him watch me, stare at me, his mouth open, revealing his fangs. A low snarl vibrated his throat and though his eyes were hooded, I could see
the black spill out of his pupils and bleed into the irises. He was already on the edge, ready to come. I could smell it, could taste it coming off his skin in his sweat, and I clenched around his dick.
“Amalia,” he groaned, and dug his short nails into my skin, “let me see. Show me how good you feel.”
The fact that he wanted me still, no matter how much sex we’d had, the fact that he wanted to watch my orgasm sweep through me, wanted to feel the way my body clamped down on him and twitched against him, was enough to make me shudder, to make me want to come, to bring me right to the verge of orgasm, and I knew just how to finish.
I pressed my fingers harder against my clit, moved them in tighter and smaller circles, spiralling down, and held his gaze while I came, bucking against him, the rhythm of my hips lost to short, sharp stuttering movements.
He thrust up four times, five, six, and his orgasm hit while I was still racked with aftershocks. He jerked beneath me, his legs shook so hard he almost bucked me off, and his fingers squeezed my nipples and tightened on my breasts. He clung to me while he came, my name on his tongue, his fangs scraping over his lips.
After he was done, I dropped my hands to his stomach and rubbed him through the comedown. He growled and snarled, his body tense, muscles standing out, but slowly he settled beneath my touch. When he was calm and my breathing steady again, I lay next to him, my head on his shoulder, and he stroked my hair.
Hunger bloomed deep in my belly. I was sexually sated, at least for the moment, but my body had other demands. I wanted blood. I wanted his blood on my tongue, wanted him to bite and open my flesh. I wanted to mark him and wear his mark.
He kissed my temple and his breath stirred my hair.
The garage stank of sex and vampires. He needed to leave so I could open the big bay doors, turn on the exhaust fans, and try to clear the air. Night shift was mostly made up of my friends who would turn a dull nose and allow me the semblance of privacy. They were Infertile too, the whole lot of them, and sometimes I thought they might understand.
Many of them were bonded to other Infertiles and seemed perfectly happy with their lives. If they had ever loved like I did, someone forbidden, they’d never mentioned it to me. Of course, I kept my own secrets.
As if he could read my thoughts, Darren kissed me again, gathered me into his arms, and lifted both of us to our feet. I cracked my neck and tucked my chin against my shoulder.
“I’ll see you at dinner.” He actually laughed as he got dressed. It was all a big joke to him, the sneaking out to see each other, the games we played around the truth. Life was a game and breaking the rules in order to be with me was just another strategy.
That was a difference between growing up wealthy and growing up poor. He knew he would win no matter what he did. I struggled just to make sure I could play.
And I knew I would never make it to the end of the game.
“I have work to do.” I watched him out of the corner of my eye as we dressed and thirst tightened my throat. Instead of biting him, I forced myself to swallow the venom from my fangs.
Darren came over to me to say good-bye. I tilted my head and presented my cheek for a kiss. His lips were dry when they pressed against my skin and slightly rough. He’d bitten them open when he came and they were still healing.
I let him hold me for a moment then extracted myself. “I have work,” I said again and jerked my chin towards the car. “Get out of here.”
He took a deep breath, and I tensed.
“I want you to bind me,” he said. I stopped breathing at that and my vision went blurry. I knew he wanted more than I was allowed to give, but he’d never asked so explicitly. “Under the next Blood Moon.”
“You can’t be serious.” My throat was tight, my voice shaky and high.
Darren put his hands on my shoulders, his thumbs against the sides of my throat. He held me still and stepped so close I had to tilt back my head a little to look up at him. “I love you,” he said, his voice so heavy and full I could very nearly feel it on my skin. “I want to be bound by you and to bind you.”
“We can’t.” Standing so close to him, still riding the pleasure he gave me, it was difficult to remember why we couldn’t.
“Tell me you don’t want it.” He kissed my forehead lightly. “Tell me that and I’ll never mention it again.”
I opened my mouth, my denial sour on my tongue. The words tangled somewhere behind my teeth, behind my fangs, and I bit them off.
Darren watched me, both eyebrows raised, patient and steady.
“We shouldn’t,” I said instead, and a fierce, bright smile broke across his face. He had me and he knew it. I wanted it as much as he did, and I was tired of denying myself. “Not everyone will be happy for us. You’re sure you want to cause such trouble?”
“That’s the added benefit,” he said and winked at me, cheeky as ever.
“Yes.”
He went silent and still, frozen with a grin twisting his lips and a wicked glint in his eyes. Neither of us so much as breathed, too caught in the moment building between us to do such a mundane thing.
Then, the faintest quiver ran through his fingers. “You’ll bind me?” he whispered.
“Yes.” I grabbed his wrists and anchored myself against him. “I’ll bind you and be bound in turn.”
I didn’t expect him to sweep me up off my feet, but that’s exactly what he did. He buried his face against my throat and I put my arms around him as best I could.
“Thank you,” he said, his mouth, his moving lips, a caress along my skin.
There were many things we needed to do before we could pull this off, but I gave myself a moment to be caught in his arms. I needed to cling to him just as much as he needed to hold me, overcome by our shared joy and relief.
When he set me down, I kissed him quickly. “I’ll bind you,” I said again, to practice, then swatted his ass. “But you have to get out of here. I have to get back to work.”
“I love you.” He beamed at me.
“I know.” It was my turn to wink. “Luckily, I love you too.”
He finally left me alone. I took a moment for myself, counting each breath, until I controlled the excitement bubbling inside me. Yes, we had a lot to do, but first I had a garage to run. I rubbed the back of my neck and turned to my project. I loved being a mechanic—loved finding the problem, no matter how complex, and solving it—but the last thing I wanted to do was go back to work.
A car pulled up outside and I hurried to turn on the fan and open the doors. I could smell him everywhere, the scent clinging to me, to the floor, to the very air itself, and I hoped my next customer was human and wouldn’t notice.
I knew we couldn’t keep the secret much longer. People were starting to guess and if his mother found out before we had figured out how to manage her, life would be far more difficult.
The taste of Darren’s kiss lingered on my tongue and I swallowed convulsively, hungry for him still.
Beneath the Changing Moon
Chapter Six
August 2016 – Blood Moon
Darren stops a few steps below me and starts to unbutton his shirt. His movements are smooth, casual, unobtrusive, but the whole room watches. They don’t know what’s coming, but they’re reacting to the anticipation in the air.
My skin crawls from the weight of their attention as I walk down to him, each step measured and slow. The air is thick with the nasty stink of confusion, alcohol, and drugs—and beneath it all lust, sharp and sticky like pine sap.
The sweet scent of Darren’s blood, waiting for me just beneath the surface of his skin, buoys me and carries me forward.
I reach for him and my fingers shake. He catches my hand in his, lifts it to his mouth, and brushes the lightest of kisses to my fingertips, then guides my hand to the back of his neck so my arm stretches between us.
The cocky quirk of his lips slips into a smile, softer, more honest, more open. We’re about to get into a lot of trouble with his fa
mily, but in this moment, watching him bloom before me, his love lighting him up, I’m certain breaking tradition is the right thing to do.
I step closer until I feel his body against me and press my nose to his throat. He smells delicious, like fresh clean water, crushed grass, and hot metal. The pheromones hit me hard, tempt me, tease me, make me want all the things I can never have from him because his family thinks he deserves someone Fertile. Someone better.
Except everything I want is standing before me, waiting for me to sink my fangs into his throat.
I press a light kiss to the base of his neck and, in a shark-fast move, twist my head and bite. The skin of his throat parts easily and his blood flows into my mouth, slips over my tongue, and trickles down my throat. I swallow it, gulp it down, then force myself to pull away before I settle in to really drink.
The wound oozes a drop of blood and pulling away is one of the hardest things I’ll ever have to do. All I want is to devour his blood then throw him down to the floor and fuck him until all we know is each other, the two of us together.
Facing his mother is worse.
Darren trembles next to me, his body seizing with want and the rush of my venom through his veins. He grabs my wrist and squeezes, holding my hand tight against the back of his neck while his limbs twitch and his eyes roll shut. His mouth is vividly red.
“Darren!” Rachel’s voice is sharp and that, I think, startles him awake. It isn’t proper for her to raise her voice in front of her guests, to speak in such a harsh tone. She forgets herself in her shock. I know she can’t hurt or stop us, but still I step in front of Darren, protecting him.
She reaches the foot of the stairs, but it’s too late. Darren looms behind me—I can feel his skin vibrate as the venom sets in—and brushes my hair out of the way. I purposefully chose a sleeveless dress and my shoulders are bare and the long line of my throat open to him.
His fangs pierce my skin even as his mother reaches us. He feels so good, opening me, drinking me, and I don’t want the expression on her face to ruin the moment, to knock me from this glorious haze, so I close my eyes. The pain is sharp and immediate, then settles into a warm buzz. My nipples harden and my clit throbs.
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