The Last Vampire: Book Two

by R. A. Steffan

  Too bad my only experience of healthy relationships came from reading trashy romance novels where the hero magically knew the heroine’s every secret desire. And sure, some of those sexy scenes did more for me than others, but there was a big difference between reading about something and wanting to do it… or wanting to have it done to you.

  “I have absolutely no idea about my kinks,” I said eventually, deciding honesty was the best policy in this situation. “Mostly, I’m into guys not treating me like a nympho freak for wanting to get laid.” And for wanting to nibble on their life force like it was a Sunday buffet, I didn’t add.

  Rans didn’t move from his relaxed sprawl, though a smile twitched at his lips. “Then you appear to be in luck, Zorah Bright… though I still think we can do better than that. Look around you… nice big house, all to ourselves. Solid construction. Far enough away from the neighbors that no one will hear you screaming your head off when I make you come for the dozenth time.”

  And just like that, the flesh between my thighs was aching and throbbing, demanding satisfaction. Judging by his smug expression, the vampire on the bed knew it, too. Bastard.

  “Your modesty is one of your most attractive qualities, you know. So, what about you?” I asked, trying to turn it back on him. “What does a vampire do for kicks in bed?”

  His expression turned jaded for a moment before he consciously smoothed it. “After seven hundred years, just about everything you can imagine, at one time or another. And probably a few things you can’t.”

  I remembered the afternoon at Nigellus’ house in Atlantic City—how Rans had urged me to use him until exhaustion finally quieted his circling thoughts.

  “You use sex to make everything stop for a bit, don’t you?” I said in a burst of insight. “That’s why you don’t seem to care that I’m draining you when you sleep with me. Being drained helps you turn it all off for a while.”

  Still, he didn’t move—and yet I thought I could sense walls coming up.

  “It’s cheaper than therapy,” he said, throwing a quip I’d made to Guthrie back at me. The smile he flashed was tight, and didn’t reach his eyes. “Besides, it gets terribly tiresome having to wipe a therapist’s memories after every single session. Hard to make any progress that way.”

  “I bet.”

  Was it strange that I felt better knowing we were both kind of fucked up in the head? Maybe it was because I could pretend we were on equal ground that way. It made me feel less like the stereotypical pathetic girl relying on the competent, kick-ass man—or rather, the competent, kick-ass vampire. Instead, I could tell myself we were two messed-up people coming together, and that I had something to offer him, too. Even if that ‘something’ was nothing more than an hour or two of sexually mediated oblivion.

  “You haven’t really answered the question, though,” I prodded, finally breaking free of my paralysis. I crossed to the bed and sank down on the edge, half facing him. Because I could, I placed a hand over his silent heart—where a shotgun blast had torn through the smooth flesh mere days ago—holding it there for a moment before running it down the hard ridges of his stomach. “What do you like?”

  It was like caressing a statue… or it would have been if his cock hadn’t twitched against his belly. Blue eyes held mine.

  “Oh, I could fill a century or three with all the things I want to do to you, my little vixen,” he said. “But honestly, I’ve found that what you do in bed is far less important than who you’re doing it with.”

  My breath caught. Not fair, damn it. He shouldn’t be allowed to make my heart and my sex ache at the same time. That was playing dirty.

  “Don’t say things like that,” I whispered, my hand still splayed low on his abdomen.

  There was a moment’s silence. “You really don’t do well with kindness, do you, Zorah?” he observed. Then he raised a challenging eyebrow. “Fair enough. If you don’t want to hear it, then come here and shut me up.”

  That sounded like a plan I could get behind. I leaned forward, closing the distance until I could kiss him at the same time I slid my hand down the final few inches to encircle his erection. My eyes slid closed as the sensation of something flowing out of him and into me returned. He let me ravish his mouth and cock for a few minutes, drawing what I needed from him.

  Then his hands closed on my shoulders and his body twisted under me. Before I was aware of what was happening, I was on my back beneath him, caged by his hard body as his weight pressed me into the soft mattress. His mouth grew demanding on mine, and something inside me loosened, settling warmly into place.

  Eventually, the feeling of drowning in him grew too intense, forcing me to wrench my lips free of his so I could gasp in air. “This,” I panted. “I want this. I want you to make me lose control.”

  If I could help him turn everything off for a while, maybe he could do the same for me. Now that I was sober, real life threatened to come crashing down on me again—all the fears, all the worries, all the problems and mysteries I couldn’t do anything about until daylight returned. Rans’ remark about the neighbors not being able to hear me scream replayed in my mind, making me shiver with anticipation regarding the kinds of things he might do to me if given free rein.

  He held himself above me on hard-muscled arms. Beyond the window, clouds sculled across the moon, dimming its light and blurring the details of his features into grayness broken only by the shining blue of his eyes.

  “Hmm,” he mused. “Let me see, now. A freshly unearthed voyeurism kink and a desire to lose control. You know, I don’t care that you were draining their life force. Your exes were barmy not to stick around longer, luv.”

  I wrinkled my nose at him, not sure if he could see the expression in the deeper darkness that had overtaken the room. The huff of low laughter seemed to indicate that he could.

  “Don’t move a muscle,” he warned. “I just need to grab something. Back in a tick.”

  With that, he kissed me quickly on the lips and rolled off the bed. I lay still, heart pounding with anticipation. As promised, he took only a moment.

  “What is it?” I asked breathlessly, unable to make out detail now that the moon was hidden behind clouds.

  The lamp switch clicked, casting a circle of warm light outward from the bedside table. It threw the planes of Rans’ body into gold-limned dips and shadows, distracting me for a moment from the object dangling from his hand—a braided leather belt, the free end threaded through the buckle to form a small loop at the bottom.

  “Give me your wrists, Zorah.”

  I didn’t even think before I extended my wrists, feeling blood thrumming through every vein as my heart galloped wildly. Rans gathered my hands together, pressing his lips to the knuckles of first one, and then the other. He slipped the loop over them and tugged it closed, pressing my palms together as if in prayer. Leaning forward, he drew my arms over my head and tied the loose tail of the belt around one of the spindles in the headboard.

  When he was done, he straightened and looked down at me with a serious expression. “The buckle isn’t clasped,” he said. “You can pull and struggle against it as much as you like, and it should hold, but if you really want to get loose, all you need to do is press your wrists apart to open up the loop so you can slide your hands out. Try it.”

  I tugged against the belt, first lightly, then harder until I could feel the soft leather biting into my wrists. Then I relaxed and wriggled my hands back and forth, feeling the loop widen as the buckle slid along the leather. I nodded, confident that I could easily slip my hands free if I needed to.

  “And if you don’t like something?” he asked, still regarding me seriously.

  “I’ll tell you to stop,” I said in a breathy voice.

  He smiled, letting his gaze slide down the length of my body like a caress. My nipples hardened, the points visible through the silky black material of my nightgown.

  “So lovely, stretched out and on display for me like this,” he murmur
ed, brushing a fingertip over the nearest breast—the barest suggestion of a touch.

  An electric tingle zapped from my nipple straight to my clit, and I caught my breath as a pulse of wetness soaked my inner thighs. Rans’ nostrils flared, and a flush of heat rose from my neck to my cheeks—hopefully hidden by my dusky complexion.

  Or maybe not.

  “You’re blushing,” he teased. “And you’re wet for me after a single touch? Succubi everywhere would be proud of you.”

  “Fucker,” I said. I made a show of tugging and squirming against the belt, in hopes that it would hide the way I was rubbing my thighs together in an attempt to ease the pressure between them.

  “Still blushing,” he said, amused. “How far down does that flush go, I wonder? A pity all of that black silk is in my way—makes it hard to tell.” A strong, callused hand slid over the silky material from breast to hip, igniting every nerve along the way.

  I jerked against my bonds again for good measure. “Too bad you didn’t think of that earlier,” I taunted, already enjoying this new game. “It’s going to be impossible to get it off me now, with my wrists tied like this.”

  Shit. Where had this kind of sex been all my life? My skin felt too tight, my body hot and needy and ready to be filled—all this from only a few minutes of teasing and play-acting.

  The smile on Rans’ face grew predatory, something about it sending a new pulse of urgency to my throbbing clit.

  “Oh,” he said, drawing out the word, “I don’t need to untie you to get this flimsy scrap of cloth out of my way, little vixen.”

  “No?” I asked, breathless.

  “No,” he confirmed. His hands grasped either side of the plunging v-neck that displayed my cleavage, and the silky fabric ripped to my navel. My breasts spilled out, bare to his burning gaze. “Much better,” he murmured.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I cursed, my body on fire with the need to be touched. Taken. Used.

  “Blasphemy, Zorah?” Rans accused, mock-appalled. “I’m shocked.”

  “You’re the one who told me I was part demon,” I gasped. “You’ve got no one to blame but yourself. Now, touch me, goddamn it!” I writhed against the restraint for good measure.

  He laughed, arranging his body in an elegant sprawl near the edge of the bed—giving me a clear view of his erect cock, but too far away for me to touch him, bound as I was. “No,” he said, “I don’t believe I will just yet.”

  I made a sound of frustration and struggled harder as he leaned casually on an elbow, only to freeze in place when he started stroking himself again, my eyes zeroing in on that slow slide of hand over dick. I could feel it… feel the steady rise of his lust flowing between us. I wanted that cock. I ached for it. Hell, I was practically salivating for it.

  “Mmm,” he hummed. “Edging. Never really saw the point until now. Nice to know you can still learn something new after seven hundred years.”

  I had no fucking clue what he was rambling on about, and I didn’t really care. His orgasm was approaching, I could feel it. So close, so close, and I’d be able to feel that delectable flood of pleasure washing over me… soaking in to fill up the empty places inside me. Any second now…

  He stopped, his hand stilling on his twitching cock, squeezing the base as a bead of pre-come dripped from the tip. All of that lovely, pent-up energy wavered on the brink… and stayed pent up. I made a pitiful noise, straining toward him but unable to reach.

  I could feel the promise of his release sliding away as he continued to clamp his fingers around the base of his erection, his imminent orgasm subsiding. I lay there, panting and shivery, until he started jacking off again, smearing the pre-come over the head of his dick to use as lube. I could feel that it was even better for him that way, and I held my breath as he brought himself back to the edge—

  —only to stop again.

  Over and over he teased me with the promise of his release, only to pull it away at the last instant. By the fourth or fifth time, I was struggling in earnest, cursing him both silently and aloud. As if he’d sensed that I was about five seconds away from getting my wrists free and jumping him, he released his cock with a low growl.

  “Christ. There’s only so much of that I can take while I’m watching you writhe around with your wrists tied to the headboard,” he said.

  “Good,” I snarled, giving my wrists another jerk for good measure. “Now get over here and give me what I want, or I’ll—“

  Whatever threat I might’ve come up with, it was cut off in a gasp of ecstasy when he ripped my nightgown the rest of the way open and palmed my sex roughly. Shameless and desperate, I ground my clit against the heel of his hand. I was so wet it should have been embarrassing, but concerns like that had fled long ago before my overwhelming need for what Rans was offering.

  Instead of teasing, he was trying to drown me in pleasure now, or so it seemed. Long fingers delved inside me—stretching and probing—looking for the place along the front wall of my passage that made me arch wildly off the bed. His thumb brushed my clit, and just like that, I was coming with the promised scream—a mindless, wild thing bucking beneath him.

  “Bloody fucking hell, luv,” he cursed, poised over me as his magic fingers drew out my release and urged me toward a second one without so much as a pause for me to get my breath back. “I’ll give you what you need, don’t worry. But first, you’ll give me more of this.”

  I whimpered, tugging fitfully at the belt even though I was exactly where I wanted to be. The feeling of being trapped here, subjected to pleasure at Rans’ whim was addicting, and we hadn’t even gotten to the best part yet. I couldn’t have remembered my own name at that point, much less rattled off a list of the things I was supposed to be worrying about. I was completely in the moment, inhabiting the present with no thought for anything except my body’s shuddering response to Rans’ touch.

  “Don’t stop,” I begged, as those deft fingers wrung more and more pleasure from me until I thought I’d go mad. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop…”

  Lips brushed my ear. “Stop? I could keep you here until you pass out from what I’m doing to you, Zorah. And when you came around, you’d find yourself still tied to the bed, still with my fingers inside you, driving you mad. Maybe I’d wake you up by sucking on your clit at the same time.”

  I moaned, trembled, and came even harder, my voice rising to a high-pitched keen. Rans chuckled.

  “Like that idea, do you?” he asked, and nipped my earlobe. Lips brushed down the length of my throat and lower. He sucked on first one nipple, and then the other, drawing on the pebbled points before letting them pop free. “Well, then—far be it from me to disappoint…”

  When his mouth reached my clit and latched onto it, my heels scrabbled at the bedclothes—trying to get closer? Trying to get away? I wasn’t sure. When the next orgasm rolled over me, I went limp, the fight going out of me all at once. The room spun. Nothing existed except Rans’ mouth on me; his fingers inside me.

  “There’s my sweet little vixen,” he murmured against my folds, lapping gently at my oversensitive clit while his fingers continued to stroke over the place inside me that sent starbursts erupting behind my closed eyelids. “Now you can have what you want from me.”

  With a final kiss to my folds, he slipped his fingers free of my clutching passage and prowled up the length of my body until his hips were cradled between my legs. His hard cock found my opening and slid inside with a single, unforgiving thrust.

  And… oh, god—this.

  This was bliss. I needed nothing more from life at this moment than the feeling of our flesh joining—of his animus flowing into me. He reached above my head one-handed and tugged at the belt until it fell away from my wrists, freeing my arms to circle his back and hold tight. I had become a peaceful, empty vessel, free of all cares and worries, existing only to be filled up with this wonderful feeling.

  In turn, I would empty Rans of his troubles as well, leaving us fre
e to just be… for a little while, at least, until we both had to go back out into a world that didn’t want either of our kinds to exist.

  We rocked together for a very long time, pleasure cresting and waning like a slow tide. Until finally, my teeth brushed Rans’ collarbone in a fleeting nip, and he groaned low, spilling into me. Giving me everything he had to give.

  I held him close as he filled me up, trading his vital energy for a brief stretch of serenity—giving me what I needed to survive, in exchange for the lesser gift I could give him in return. After his shudders finally stilled, he rolled us over until I was draped over his body like a blanket. Together, we drifted into dreamless sleep.

  FOUR

  FOR SOME REASON, it still surprised me to wake up and find that I wasn’t alone. That Rans hadn’t left as soon as I’d fallen asleep. This probably said something deep and psychologically disturbing about the way my brain worked.

  Self-esteem, said the little voice in my head. Try getting some, one of these days.

  After that initial jolt of surprise passed, I realized a couple of things.

  One—I felt safe and protected, tangled up with Rans in a stranger’s stolen bed. It was a feeling that sat oddly in my chest after a couple of decades spent with the knowledge that in the end, very few people in my life really cared all that much what happened to me.

  Two—my body felt fucking fantabulous. Well, okay. It felt fucking fantabulous except for a distinct soreness between my thighs that I couldn’t really bring myself to mind. Other than that, though, I was rested and pain-free.

  And in terrible need of a shower. Unfortunately, while drifting off in a lover’s arms after a night of wild sex might be great for the psyche, it ignored several practical problems related to hygiene.

  Oh, well.

  I lazed for a few more minutes anyway. At some point as I’d slept, my lower body had slid off Rans, though one of my legs was still draped between his. I was still using his chest for a pillow, though. With his upper body bare, it was harder to tell if I’d drooled on him this time, so I decided to pretend that I hadn’t.