by Jayne Rylon
The head of his cock bumps my sensitive opening, causing me to whimper. I rock into the contact, gaining the barest hint of penetration.
“Amy,” he groans. “Are you sure?”
“I need you, Warren. Please, join with me.”
We cry out together when his stiff flesh skewers me with one long thrust. He collapses, blanketing my back as he begins to move inside me. The even glide of his hips fills me to capacity on every stroke. I clench around him, struggling to keep him buried to the hilt.
In this position, his balls tap my clit on every pass, driving me wild. I open my mouth on a moan. My lips bump into Dagan’s steel-hard cock. My eyes flutter open. A bead of pre-cum rolls down the flared purple head of his shaft. I reach out my tongue to lick it away.
Dagan’s broad hand fists in my hair, for the first time ever preventing me from tasting him. I never thought I’d see the day when he refused a blowjob.
“Could this harm her?” Dagan glances at Warren, whose face hovers inches from mine. The heat of his labored breathing bathes my cheek.
“No, the taint resides in your blood alone. As long as she doesn’t drink from your veins she will remain unaffected.”
Dagan’s other hand tangles in Warren’s hair. With slight pressure on the back of our heads, he guides each of us to one side of his erection. I meet Warren’s gaze around the throbbing shaft. Though he continues to fuck me with that devastating rhythm, I can see we both long for more. Together, we reach out our tongues and lick a synchronized line along the entire length of Dagan’s cock.
My mate roars as we continue to flick, suck and nip his painfully aroused hard-on. Warren begins to take me harder, his hips slapping my ass. The motion forces me to dip lower, so I open my lips wide to mouth Dagan’s balls. They shift against my tongue, drawing closer to his core.
With more room to maneuver, Warren engulfs the tip then slides down Dagan’s pole until our lips meet in a heated kiss.
“After five thousand years…you’d think it impossible to surprise me.” Dagan’s fingers knot in my hair, keeping me in place though I make no attempt to retreat.
Who would willingly abandon this rapture?
Warren, who tends to seek an edge of pain with his pleasure, moans. The vibration shakes Dagan’s balls and my lips around them. Our lover pumps into my sopping pussy, igniting flame after flame of ecstasy inside me. The increased pace of his strokes heightens the intensity of his balls slapping my clit.
I let Dagan slip from my lips, afraid that I might lose control and bite him in my mindless passion.
“Yes, Warren. Fuck her well. I bet she’s clamping around your cock now.” A sheen of sweat glistens on Dagan’s abdomen. His fingers twist in the sheets beneath him.
As much as the sight arouses him, I will never be able to outlast him. Warren’s shaft stretches my clinging sheath with every penetration. The ridge of his cock head and the prominent veins caress me from the inside. The sight of him devouring my mate fuels my desire. But Dagan knows how to push me over the edge.
“Her sweet pussy loves your cock. Pull out, Warren.”
He groans in protest but does as commanded after several more full thrusts.
“Tease her, make her beg for it.”
The tip of his cock returns, blazing hot on my skin. He taps the blunt head against my clit, never pausing the pattern of his sucking. I watch his cheeks hollow around Dagan’s shaft a moment before my muscles begin to spasm.
“Please, Warren, fill me. I don’t want to come without you. Please! I need you!”
I groan in defeat when the first ripple of my abdomen signals my impending orgasm.
“Now. Fuck her, Warren.”
Stars zoom past my eyes as the world explodes. Warren’s thick erection parts the swollen flesh of my pussy. He slams inside me, riding me hard, taking me higher. The fierce grasp of my undulating tissue drags him with me into climax. His throat flexes around his shout and Dagan’s cock before he too pulls off the magnificent erection.
Warren pulses inside me, flooding my pussy with stream after stream of his passion.
At the sight of our release, my mate joins us though no one is touching his cock. It twitches against his abdomen then sprays a fountain of cum in arc after arc. One pearly strand drapes across my face. Warren reaches out to lick it from my cheek, inciting another batch of thrusts and grunts that I match with an equal number of contractions.
I catch several droplets on my tongue then savor the taste with a satisfied hum.
Warren continues to shuttle inside me long after we are spent. He moves softly until his wilting cock slips from my hold. We groan together then help Dagan rest against the pillows.
We take up our posts, one on each side of my mate. My head rests on his chest, allowing me to witness the knowing exchange between the two men.
“Thank you, Warren.” Dagan draws our lover to him for an extended kiss then cradles us both against his weakening body. “You two will do just fine without me.”
Chapter Three
Today
I am a selfish creature.
Five thousand years of wild nights with my soulmate haven’t quenched my thirst for his love or slaked my hunger for his touch. But as the vitality leaks from Dagan’s crimson irises in a wash of bloody tears, I know there’s only time for one more tryst. And one more fight. I cannot let him go without them.
Friends, nobles and staff file from the room after saying somber goodbyes. Warren lingers longest before bestowing a final, enduring kiss on pale lips. Pain obscures my vision. It prevents me from realizing we’re alone until I hear Dagan’s whispered entreaty.
“Lay with me, Amystia.” Beloved light. He imparted the term of endearment, popular in his youth, on me before the pyramids. The pure label predated the modern concepts of good and evil that draw false boundaries on an endlessly complex universe.
Dagan’s raspy voice is only a faint shadow of the resounding timbre he possessed less than a week ago. Seven days—a blink compared to millennia of existence. How well I know, each moment is precious. A single millisecond, a slip of the hand and a whim of fate can steal every modicum of bliss from one’s existence.
Who would have believed an accident could claim the life of the world’s oldest and most powerful vampire when endless assassins could not?
I lower myself to the satin sheets that cradle his withering body. Unbidden, my finger traces the ominous black line leading from the wound, along his veins, ending less than an inch from his still heart. The damage has progressed so much closer in the past hour.
It won’t be long now.
“Come.” Dagan spreads his arms wide. The strain around his mouth at the simple gesture is more than I can bear. I’m afraid to lay my head on his now frail shoulder, in the spot I’ve found solace and shelter for all my long life.
The corner of his wicked mouth slants up in a ghost of a smile. “You could never hurt me, Amystia. Come.”
“I need you.” Guilt infuses my gut for my weakness. I should be the one to comfort him, and yet I find myself clinging to his chilled torso, terrified to let go. My shaking body rattles against his as my control slips. “I’m begging you, as I have never done in all our time together. Let me perform the ritual.”
“No. It’s only a myth. I will not allow you to risk yourself, or Warren.” My plea upsets Dagan. He struggles to draw breath. Though it pains me to see, I take the opportunity to argue my case when it would otherwise be impossible to get a word past my stubborn and dominant mate.
“I cannot live without you.”
He coughs. The alien sound of suffering from a creature immune to sickness terrifies me. I send a thin stream of power to soothe his labored gasps as I stroke midnight locks from his handsome face.
“Grief has never destroyed a vampire. Especially not one as strong as you, Queen.”
“I’ll be the first, remembered in some tragic song, infamous among the covens. Is that what you want?” I’m not really kidding, t
hough I try to sound as though I am. “If I cannot keep you here, I will follow where you go.”
“You’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.” Love radiates from his attempted grin in waves and he draws strength from our bond. “But this time, I will not change my mind. Your soul is priceless. More valuable to me than anything else. Including my own.”
“But…”
“Amystia,” The thread of sound frayed, near to snapping. “It’s too late. Do not waste our time. Let me hold you.”
It is impossible to deny a dying man his final wish. I snuggle into his welcoming arms, our bodies forming a single unit, and lift my head to brush my lips against his as I have infinite times before. Desperation, longing and fear drive my frantic kiss. As always, Dagan becomes a sturdy receptacle for my turmoil of emotions—collecting them, bottling them and grounding me.
When I surface to gaze into his eyes, he whispers against my mouth, “I’m sorry I can’t love you one last time.”
With a thought, I banish our clothes to the bedroom floor. I nuzzle the sweet spot at the base of his neck, then lick my way down his muscular chest to scrape my fang across his nipple, just as he likes best. “You can.”
Before he can argue, I slide my palm lower, past the delectable ridges of his steel-hard abs, to cup his flaccid penis. Muted hunger flares in his eyes. Even on his deathbed, Dagan wants me nearly as much as I want him. As I have done during the deepest hours of previous nights, when our lust outlasted the capability of his body, I use my power to direct the flow of his hot, delicious blood. His cock inflates below my hand, transforming into the thick shaft that fills me to perfection.
If only it were so easy to stop the progression of his poison.
The weight of my full breasts rests on his muscular arm and my crimson fingernail traces the prominent vein that decorates the underside of his cock while memories of thousands of shared ecstasies bombard my mind.
“Hurry, Amystia.” The pleading in his voice stems from more than desire. If it had been that alone, I could have teased him for days. And oftentimes had.
I wrap currents of air around myself until I float into position, straddling his lean hips. Though our lovemaking is rushed, I’m wet and ready to hold Dagan as close as I can. Primal instincts take control. I hover over the blunt tip of his impressive erection before sinking onto it bit by bit.
It feels like coming home.
The intensity of our situation enhances the familiar sensation of our bodies gliding against each other but worry prevents me from soaking in the pleasure of our union. For Dagan, I work my magic and all my charms to raise him higher. I stroke his chest with my palms, lick a glistening trail over the seam of his lips and replace his suffering with desire.
Using more tricks, I enchant the satin sheet he lies on to caress every inch of his fevered skin while I ride his full erection. Beads of sweat dot Dagan’s brow. I clasp his hands in mine against the bed as I prepare to grant him one final release. I focus my energy into an ethereal hand and use it to draw swirling spirals of delight across the sensitive sac housing his balls.
Words are beyond us now but the pleasure is plain to read in my lover’s eyes. Our spirits twine together so tight, I can hear his thoughts as though they are my own. My brave, honorable mate struggles to resist until I am ready to find satisfaction with him.
I don’t think it will be possible this time.
I’m amazed when, with one last burst of strength, he summons his power to flutter against my clit in the single motion guaranteed to throw me into oblivion. I shatter around him, the spasms of my flesh dragging him with me. Ecstasy permeates our bodies, our souls, and the power of our joining crackles through the very air around us.
A satisfied smile registers on Dagan’s face. His eyes open wide as his gaze locks onto mine. He mouths, “I love you.”
Then, he is gone.
I reach out to him with my mind.
Nothing exists.
Chapter Four
Disbelief swamps my senses but even that cannot eclipse the agony shredding my insides. For a moment, I observe the lifeless shell of my mate before overcoming my instinctive distaste and sinking my fangs into the thick artery at the base of his neck. I have not lived this long, and served as Queen of our people, without learning to do what I must despite my personal feelings.
Dagan’s blood is bitter. Rancid poison and the stench of death ruin the sacred flavor of my mate. I ignore nature’s warning, swallowing despite the reflexive reaction of my body, which urges me to purge the spoiled food.
There isn’t a moment to waste. Even as I drain the last bit of lethal toxin from Dagan, I call out. My dignified status doesn’t generally lend itself to shrieking, but my royal bearing can’t conceal the horror in my heart.
“Warren!”
The bedroom door slams open and the tall, lithe vampire appears at my side with preternatural speed. His gorgeous face crumples in sorrow as he absorbs the scene before him. Dagan’s wasted body, the fresh puncture wound on his neck and the drip of still-warm blood from my fangs declare my intent.
“What have you done, Amy? There’s no going back now. You have to attempt the Phoenix Incantation.” It isn’t a question. Warren’s low voice covers a core of steel. The perfect complements to Dagan’s brawn and savvy, his rational mind and dedication to academics have earned him the title of King Dagan’s most trusted advisor. But it is his quiet confidence, proven loyalty and underlying vulnerability that have made him our closest friend for a thousand years.
During the past week, Warren and I had frantically searched the tomes of the compound’s extensive library for a cure but all we uncovered were cryptic references to an arcane rite.
The Phoenix Incantation.
“I’m sorry, Warren.” He lifts me from the bed. I take the solace offered in his steady embrace with unabashed greed, speaking in hushed tones against the warm plane of his chest as he holds me. “I didn’t want you to be torn between your king’s command and my insistence. This way, either the poison or the magic will reunite me with Dagan. I can’t bear to be separated from him.”
“Did he give you his blood willingly?” Over my head, Warren’s tear-filled stare fixes on the remains of the man we both loved most. My skin tingles as he levitates the corpse to the waiting marble platform. The whisper of satin declares the black sheet has become a shroud.
I shake my head in sadness, “He forbade me to try. I took it right after…”
“That will make things more difficult. The incantation works best when the subject seeds their life force with the will to be anchored to the mortal world.” Warren voices his concerns aloud. It’s endearing. We’d been over this plan many times in the past days, after all optimism for Dagan’s recovery had evaporated.
“You still plan to execute the magic alone?” The flash of hurt in Warren’s eyes adds another weight to the burden on my soul.
“Yes. Direct me. There’s only an hour or so until dawn.” The complex summons would take time to prepare. In all the obscure references, we’d found only one consistent instruction. The ritual had to be complete before daybreak following the death of a soulmate.
“What will you use to draw his essence to you? The magic requires something strong enough to pierce through the underworld.”
“Memories. I know it didn’t work for the ancients, Warren. But Dagan and I shared millennia of experience—far more than the average lifespan during the dark times.”
Warren shakes his head in vehement denial. “I’ve been thinking. There’s a better way.”
“Does it place you at risk?” I can’t bear to have his death on my conscience.
“I would forsake my life for either of you as my king and queen and my soul for your friendship.” He strokes a stray tress of hair from my face with unrivaled tenderness. Warren has always embodied a softness Dagan lacks. His refusal to answer my question gives me all the information I need.
“In case things don’t go as planned…”
I can’t bring myself to voice the worst. “Our people will look to you for guidance, for leadership. They need you, Warren.”
“And what of my needs?” His graceful, long-fingered hands cup my face, tilting it toward his. “I don’t wish to be sentenced to a life alone. You should understand that.”
The sincerity in his gray eyes tugs at my heart but I won’t condemn him to a fate worse than death. Failure in the Phoenix Incantation results in the voiding of the conjurer’s soul.
“You belong here, Warren. You’re barely twelve hundred years old. You have your whole life ahead of you. In time, you’ll find your true mate and forget about us.” I bestow a serene kiss on his lush mouth to ease the sting of my rejection.
“No one could ever replace you in my heart.” He pushes me away then spins to face the shrouded form across the room, his fists clenched at his sides. An uncharacteristic crack in his reserve allows his anger and frustration to pour out. “It’s my fucking fault he’s dead!”
I reach up and lay my hand on his shoulder. His violent trembling vibrates down my outstretched arm. “It was an accident. No one blames you. Dagan knew better than to enter your laboratory without knocking.”
Warren faces me. The unveiled misery in his expression knocks me back several steps. “I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t try everything within my power to bring him home.”
The ultimate truth of his statement rings between us. Who am I to destroy his chance for absolution? “What are you suggesting?”
“I’ve seen the power of your love for each other during sex.” He hesitates as though gathering courage to propose the most logical solution. I already know what he’ll say. As usual, he’s right. “Together, we’ll call him to us with passion.”
“You read the warnings, Warren. The magic will ensnare any participants in the rite.” The ramifications of his scheme swim in my mind. “This would bind you to us forever.”
