by Jackie Ivie
He had his eyes narrowed. His face set. Nothing on him looked like the man who’d been kissing her, taking her to heights of wonder, sending sensual spurts through her. Wrestling tongues with her.
Except maybe the drops of blood on his lips.
She had to shut her eyes for a moment and staunch the urge. The hunger. Before she lost out. He was watching her with narrowed brown eyes when she opened hers.
“Try moving,” she said.
“No.”
“Your bullet’s out.”
“Yeah. Right.”
She lidded her eyes to match him. Look for look. The heart she’d recently noted got louder. Stronger. The cadence matching his - beat for beat, taking the rhythm from him. She’d heard that happened with a mate, too. She hadn’t believed that part, either.
“Are you going to move? Or am I going to have to make you?” she asked.
He lowered his chin a hair and did a faint twist from the waist, putting a lot of bulk against hers where their loins were touching. He twisted the other way. Came back, pushing her onto her back. Again. Every return move mashed parts of him to her. Toying with her. Tempting her. Reika lifted a leg to grip him. On the rebound, she did the same with the other, encasing his hips between her thighs. She held him as he rolled. Going with each move: right; then left. And then back again. Over and over. His expression changed to disbelief, then comprehension, and from there to elation. Joy. He stopped on his back, with her atop him. He had a gorgeous smile. Reika matched it without conscious thought.
“Holy shit. It doesn’t hurt,” he told her. “I can move…and it doesn’t hurt!”
“I know.”
He licked his lips, tasting the residue of fluid she’d given him. A tremor went through him. It took her with it. His expression altered. He looked unsure. Leery.
“What?” she asked.
“Am I…a vampire now?”
“Partial.”
“Partial? Oh. Well, I guess you might as well lay it on me. What does that mean?”
“Superior senses. Heightened abilities - mainly strength and endurance. You won’t get ill or catch disease. Should you get hurt, the wounds heal faster than normal. Things like that.”
“Seriously? You’re saying I’m a super being now?”
She nodded.
“Sweet. Any side effects?”
“A…few.”
“Well, speak up then. What are they?”
“Sensitivity to sunlight. Taste bud changes. Difficulty seeing oneself in a mirror. Hazy images in photographs. Things like that.”
“Hmm. Is it a forever thing, then?”
“Oh no. Age dulls it.”
“Age? What about immortality?”
“I have to turn you…all the way for that. Do you want me to?”
“Seriously? You’re giving me a choice?”
She went just as sober. Maybe she didn’t want a reawakened heart, because it was sending little darts through her with every beat.
“What would…you choose?”
He twisted again, taking her with him, and then he rolled, placing her beneath him. Her ankles locked behind his hips. Her gaze caught. Mesmerized.
“Why don’t you kiss me again, and we find out?”
He lowered his head, reached her mouth, and sent her senses spiraling. Winging. Rotating crazily. His kiss evoked wonder. Anticipation. Eagerness. And a minute sting from where her cut opened again. Thirst claimed her. Complete need. Her mouth slid along his chin, grazing her lips on the light stubble from his beard. He matched her motion for motion, grappling with her for the perfect spot: The place where his pulse raised a vein. Reika shoved her fingers through his hair to hold him and then stabbed her fangs into his throat, tightening her grip as he lurched upward, taking her with him.
And it wasn’t enough.
His hands quested along the backs of her thighs, molded about her buttocks, shoving the Grecian style gown up, pooling it into a gossamer buffer that separated their abdomens. Fingers touched the sensitive skin of her inner thigh; moved higher - to her juncture. Found her core. Manipulating and caressing and sending her into regions of absolute delight from the vibration of his fingers.
The sensation crested, leveled off, and then burst; becoming a shower of sparks. And each one carried delight. Reika pulled from his neck and arched, launching the cry of surprise blended with pleasure. Amazement mixed with disbelief. She hadn’t known sensations such as this existed, and were possible to achieve. Liquid warmth pulsed through her, flooding her tissues with a plethora of perfection. A symphony of bliss. A medley of delight. No one had ever described such sensations. Or if they had, she hadn’t listened. And they hadn’t possessed accurate words. This was even better than a feast of non-tainted blood. More pleasure than she thought existed…almost frightening in its range.
But it wasn’t enough either.
The shudder that ran through him bore witness. As did the wildness of his expression once her cry finished and she looked back at him. His hair was shoulder-length, golden-touched brown. At the moment, it was sticking out in spikes of disarray.
“What did…you do?” she asked.
“Readied you. I should probably stop. Find a…condom.”
“What?”
“Screw that. You don’t carry disease. You said so. Yes?”
She nodded.
“And I know you can’t get…pregnant.”
Her eyes went wide. He grinned. He had the slightest spikes on his canines. The image evoked wildness. Predatory intent. Untamed and primed and dominant male. Something she’d rarely seen, and never allowed. Except now. With him. Somewhere deep within her, her female answered. Swelling. Moistening. She licked her lips. His eyelashes lowered, and then he snagged her mouth, his kiss opening a fresh cut.
Warmth wrapped them, heavy and moist. Hot. Darryl moved along her, sliding easily. His movements short; thick; rhythmic. Up. Down. His rod grazed against her with each upward move, moved it away with the downward motion. The contact alternately seared, then cooled. Tormenting. Electrifying.
Sensations hammered at her. Every touch taking her closer to paradise’s door, and them shoving it open. The view of fields assailed her mind…fields, such as had existed in some far off memory. They carried the scent of wildflowers, clover; sunshine. Her ears filled with sound resembling rainbow-flecked waterfalls, full of roaring water; clean, fresh water. The vision just out of reach; mists from the water’s base obscuring everything. She closed her eyes tight, wrapped her arms about him, and matched his lip movements with her own. The kiss deepened. His hands grabbed her buttocks, held her splayed. Ready. Her legs tensed, bringing her closer to him, the motion questing. Begging. And then he lunged deep into her, tearing through and entering where no one else ever had.
Everything in him stilled. His breath caught. His heart missed a beat. She knew. Hers matched it. He pulled from the kiss and looked down at her, his eyes dark; his expression unreadable. Tinged slightly with what could be anger. Mixed with what looked like awe.
“You were a virgin?”
“Is that…bad?”
“Well…uh. No. It’s just—wow. You okay?’
She nodded.
His body trembled. Everything tensed. She hadn’t been speaking idly before. Darryl was a big man. Large. Everywhere. Engorged, his cock was filling and branding and at the same time, toying with her; sending little pulses that didn’t match the taut condition of the man. And then he sighed heavily, releasing cooling air about her. The move unleashed something, too, gaining her depth and weight and the slackening of muscle and sinew. Then it got her his groan. And then movement.
She cried aloud at the first move from him, disbelieving the scope of the sensation, nor the absolute thrill. He pushed back in, grunting slightly. Out. Again. And again. Reika locked her legs about his hips, her arms about his chest. Clung. Meshed. Meeting him thrust for thrust as shivers chased more shivers along her limbs; coursed her belly. They rippled through her breast, maki
ng such tight sensitive points of her nipples, she moaned as they skimmed his chest, the silk she still wore there only adding to the friction. The abrasion.
Darryl lifted his chest, supported by arms so taut and strong, they invited a caress. Adoration. Veneration. She complied, skimming her fingertips along thick muscle and sinew, purring her satisfaction. His movements got wilder, supported by his new position. Thicker. Faster. The cadence growing with each thrust and retreat. His body pulled out only to fill her again. Over and over. Deeper. Harder.
More…
His chest expanded and retracted, matching a rhythm that grew in size and speed. His breathing matched it; harsh and tinted with groans. The pulse beat they shared grew stronger, sharper, more intense. Something strange and wonderful stirred deep within her, spreading outward with each movement. It gained strength. Intensity. Momentum. A spark flared. Caught. Blossomed.
Grew.
Reika tossed her head, giving vent to the amazement that flared all through her, becoming a perfect blend of fire and ice; water and dust. Wind and calm. The elements shifted. Her existence altered. Wave after wave of pleasure poured over her. Joy erupted. Bliss burst into being. Ecstasy tinged everything.
And through it she heard Darryl. His body pulsed into hers like a wild thing, thrashing against her, a groan of depth and range providing accompaniment. Reika held to him through it, watching. Wondering. Knowing exactly what the exquisite feeling flooding her was. No wonder she’d never been told. It was a fulfillment few knew, and none had explained. She’d found the perfect love. A forever love.
With him. Her mate.
Darryl’s movements calmed. His groan turned to chuckles, the sound reaching her newly-awakened heart. He looked down at her, licked his lips, and then collapsed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“The doctor will see you now.”
About time.
Darryl followed the sour-faced, rotund nurse docilely, keeping the tension and excitement well covered. It was made easier by the dark glasses he wore, even here, in a pristine fluorescent-lit environment. Reika hadn’t told him that. She’d said sunlight, not every bright light source. This might be an issue come nightfall. He’d be the first operative wearing sunglasses instead of night vision goggles.
Oh well. It was too late now. And it didn’t really matter. He’d never felt better. He’d spent three hours at the hotel gym, doing every exercise and lifting all sorts of weights, to more than one attendee’s astonishment. He could bench more than four hundred pounds in repetitions of twenty; curl more than 120; leg press to the 750 lb. limit of their equipment, and finished that workout off with a run around the track that would’ve seen him on an Olympic team if he’d timed it.
And he hadn’t even been winded.
This partial vampire stuff was worth the downside. So, he couldn’t make his image out enough to shave. There were good barbers available in any town. And he had trouble with cooked food. He should’ve asked Reika to specify the taste issue. Then again, the four entrees of steak tartare he’d devoured had more than silenced his hunger. This just might work. The slight twinge in his chest every now and again might be an indicator of trouble, though. He’d never felt such a thing, almost like a fist was wrapped about his heart and decided every now and then to squeeze. That’s why he sought a Swiss clinic right now, rather than the nearest base with a VA. He wasn’t letting anyone in the service know about any of this, until he was sure. If possible, he wanted live duty. That meant a full reinstatement. No way was he taking what they’d offered back when he’d been judged incapable of fulfilling his position. He’d rather be a paid mercenary guarding scum, than shining chair seats with his ass. He had too many good years left.
The nurse opened a door to an examination room, waiting patiently for him to enter. He had to duck to make the door jamb. He’d chosen the smallest, oldest, least patronized clinic in town. All he wanted was an x-ray. If that bullet was gone, so was he - on the next flight to the states. No need to make headlines.
The physician was already in the room, perched on a stool, his watery blue eyes behind such thick glasses they looked like fish through an aquarium. Not that it mattered. Darryl wasn’t taking off his dark-tinted glasses. He didn’t care what the doctor thought. He wasn’t ready to handle the instant stab of pain that came without them. The doctor was ancient-looking. He had about ten hairs skimming his age-spot littered scalp. That didn’t matter, either. As long as the man could order an x-ray. That’s all Darryl wanted. The doctor looked up from the file he’d been perusing: Darryl’s file. The one he’d given them over an hour ago when he’d first walked in.
“My. My. Mister Bailes. I’d have recognized you anywhere based on your dimensions. You certain you aren’t over 195.58 centimeters? Or, as you Americans list it - six foot, five?”
He spoke heavily accented English. It took a moment or two to decipher. That was all right, too. Darryl didn’t speak Swiss, and they’d have had a real problem communicating otherwise.
“Maybe a centimeter,” he admitted.
“Hmm. I suppose I should check. Nurse Fiskar? Is the scale still working?”
“Afraid not, Doctor.”
“The file’s accurate,” Darryl spoke up. “Although I might be a pound or two heavier. Muscle gain.”
The doctor readjusted his glasses and looked him over. Darryl probably appeared larger since he hadn’t shed his wool, tailored jacket in the outer office. On purpose. It hid the Beretta under his armpit and the Italian, museum-quality dagger on his belt. One thing about that Reika chick, she’d had his measurements dead on. Even the shoes fit perfectly, and he’d had seven pairs to pick from when he’d gone searching. After he’d awakened this morning. Alone. In that little cozy room of hers, just down the street from the club.
The squeezing sensation came again, just enough to catch his breath for a second or two. Nothing much. He ignored it.
There hadn’t been signs of any vampire this morn. Could’ve been because streams of sunlight filled the room. He didn’t know where she’d gone, and told himself again that he didn’t care. Although…if she’d cured him, he did owe her. They’d have to settle on a price; one that didn’t involve his soul.
“Yes. Well. We can move on, then. What can we do for you today? Go Nurse Fiskar? Fetch the exam kit. Yes. Gloves and a syringe.”
“I came for an x-ray,” Darryl inserted.
“I can’t order an x-ray without an exam, Mister Bailes. It would be against protocol.”
Darryl thought for a bit, and then sighed. He’d been avoiding thinking of that particular issue. His blood. The x-ray might not do anything except validate the bullet was gone…although he’d searched the floor over this morning and hadn’t found it. Didn’t matter. His blood was probably going to be weird. He’d rather know here what happened when they looked at it under a microscope. That might be the deciding factor between a return to the Black Elite or a future spent guarding drug-dealing scum or socialite sex-sirens like Miss Felicia Trent.
The nurse left, shutting the door behind her. The doctor stood, reaching pectoral height on Darryl. The man held the glasses to his nose while he looked up. It looked like a long way up, as he craned his neck.
“You wished an x-way of your back. Specifically your lower back. Yes?”
Darryl nodded.
“I assume this is to check on the foreign object lodged there?”
“I took a bullet. It’s still there. Or…it was.”
“Was?”
“I…uh.” How to explain this? And damn it all! Why did the fist sensation around his heart have to go into action right now as the man stared up at him?
“You can speak about it to me. I won’t laugh.”
“Uh…”
“You visited the Holy Church. Yes?”
Holy Church?
Darryl nearly snorted. That was light-years away from what had really happened. He didn’t know whether to nod or not. So, he just waited. The doctor stepped back and pl
aced Darryl’s file on his stool.
“We’re well known here in St. Moritz, for our Holy Church of the Mauritius Spring. Taking the waters has been known to heal the sick and aged. Cure disease. Mend the injured. You wouldn’t be the first man I’ve examined after visiting the spring. I actually published a case study last century on the actual miracles of the shrine.”
Darryl couldn’t believe his luck. He couldn’t imagine a better scenario. Who knew?
“And so, you tried our water despite your skepticism, and now you want validation of your miracle. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
He nodded. His heart felt another squeeze. He ignored it again.
“Very good. I’ll leave you for a bit while you change into our too-small gown, and when I return, we’ll begin.”
Shit. He’d forgotten the gaping-back examination gowns. Darryl eyed the two of them hanging forlornly from hooks on the back wall. He should’ve known. Either of them looked like he’d shortly be running about in a backless mini-dress that left zero to the imagination. He hoped Nurse Fiskar had a stout heart.
The jacket went on the exam bed. He hung his holster from a peg, his belt beside it. He used the jacket to cover them over. He’d donned a mini cable-knit, off-white pullover this morning. That went on another peg. His undershirt followed, all of it making a nice wad of clothing that disguised his weaponry. He hoped. He’d just unbuttoned and unzipped his fly when the door behind him opened.
Darryl spun, nothing pained with the move, and then liquid acid got tossed on him. Every drop instantly pained. Sizzled. And then muted into nothing more than water that he brushed off. Thank goodness he hadn’t taken his glasses off. He glared through the water-specked lenses at the nurse who stood there, a specimen glass in her hand.
“What the hell?”
The words were rumbled. His mind answered. That was no nurse. Felicia Trent stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her saucy little ass, covered in a dress that probably came from an adult catalog advertising Halloween nurse costumes for strippers.
“Hi, Big Gun. Wow. Look at you. I had no idea. I mean…wow.”
