His Captive Mortal

by Rose , Renee

  I scramble off the bed, My muscles are watery. I stagger a little. My legs are having difficulty obeying the command from my brain. “Wait, Charlie?”

  He doesn’t turn around, continuing toward my bathroom.

  “Charlie?”

  He stops and whirls, looking annoyed. “What?” In the low light his eyes glitter.

  I draw back and swallow. “Charlie,” I say, my voice soft and coaxing. “Why didn’t you finish?”

  His beautiful face turns to stone. “Go back to your studying,” he snaps, pointing toward the living room.

  “Talk to me. Did I do something wrong?”

  “Do as I say.” He’s pulling away, and I don't know why.

  “No, wait—” I touch his arm.

  He disappears. One second here, clothed except for his beautiful cock. The next, gone.

  No! I stumble and scream his name, “Charlie!”

  A flicker of his image appears. I hold my breath as he slowly returns, staring at me with some deep, unrecognizable emotion.

  “You didn’t come.”

  He just looks at me. He’s not giving me anything, but at least he’s still here with me.

  “Is this some sort of vampire mind trick?”

  “No.” His deep voice is too bland. He’s hiding something.

  Think, Tinkerbell, slow down and think. “It wasn’t me? It’s not something about me?” I gulp.

  His voice is painfully soft. “No, little fairy. It’s not anything to do with you.”

  And I know. “Is—is that the curse?”

  He slowly dips his chin and gives a single nod.

  I stare at him. I just experienced the most comprehensive orgasm of my life. But Charlie’s still hard. And no matter what we do, he’ll remain that way.

  I burst into tears.

  Charlie’s brows knot together, but he remains where he is.

  “I’m so sorry,” I warble. I don’t even know why I’m weeping. “It’s just so horrible.” I swipe at my eyes.

  Charlie’s forehead wrinkles. His hands are out as if he wanted to reach for me but stopped. He’s bewildered, his customary arrogance gone.

  I throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I’m going to fix it for you... I promise,” I say although I’ve got no clue how I’m going to do it. “You shouldn’t have to live like this. I’m sorry.”

  He grasps the back of my neck and brings his lips to my ear, his fang running lightly over the edges of it. Scooping me into his powerful arms, he carries me back to the bed and lays me down, stretching out beside me with his head propped in his hand and an arm around my back. I snuggle close but am careful not to touch his hard cock. Poor man.

  “Aurelia,” he murmurs, sounding choked with emotion. “So sweet.” He kisses my temple. “So much fire…” He kisses my eyelids “...so much heart. I’m humbled by your example.”

  I run my hand over his chest, then sit up and tug at the hem of his shirt. I want to see him naked, even if we can’t have sex.

  He sits up and allows me to remove the shirt.

  I toss it on the floor and push him back down, running my fingernails through his curly chest hair, admiring the lines of his sculpted torso. “You’re beautiful,” I murmur.

  He looks tired, his face still drawn as if in pain. His cock has relaxed slightly, but still remains engorged.

  “Would ice help?”

  He gives a bitter laugh. “Don’t fuss over me. Just keep to your studies, little mortal. I believe in you.”

  My eyes smart again. I’ve got to release this spell.

  I concentrate until a tiny bubble of soft pink light forms in my palm. I send it floating toward him.

  He smiles, watching it gently glide toward him. “What is that?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know,” I lie.

  It’s love. It poured out of my heart and into my fingers as I formed it for him.

  “Is it for me? It’s beautiful.” He ducks his head to dodge it and touches it with his finger, only to yank his finger away quickly as if burned. “I can’t have it. Can you tone it down a little?”

  I cock my head to the side, looking from him to the ball. I focus on the ball and imagine its light dimmer, its color lighter and softer, so it’s almost translucent, like the bubble a child blows through a plastic ring.

  Charlie watches with a tired smile. His fingers stretch towards my creation, fascinated. He cups the ball and ushers it into his chest, where it melts into his heart.

  Does he know?

  He holds his hand over his heart for a long moment. His eyes are too dark for me to read.

  “Thank you,” he murmurs at last, as if touched beyond words.

  I shiver, a sense of déjà vu running through me.

  * * *

  Charlie

  Telling Aurelia the secret I’ve kept to myself for over one hundred years eases some terrible fissure within me, but it also makes the pain resurface. As if I’ve encapsulated the wound with a protective coating and now that I’ve shared it, I feel the original pain full force.

  The pink bubble my little fairy sent seems to go right to the source of my pain, deep within my unbeating heart. It moves me that she would give her gift so freely, without any coercion or bargain, without any promise of return. It’s been so long since I’ve trusted anyone. Maybe not since Anka, and that had been a mistake.

  “Why did you scream when I dematerialized?” I ask, staring up at the ceiling.

  “I hate when you disappear every time you feel emotionally challenged.” She snuggles against me, throwing one leg over mine.

  I snake an arm behind her and hold her against my side. “I do not.”

  “Yes, you do. Anytime things get too difficult to handle, you’re gone. It’s your way of not dealing with the present situation.”

  “Who are you, Dr. Phil?”

  She snorts.

  “Where do you go, anyway?” She runs her hand across my chest.

  “Downtown, usually. Where I first met you. I like to prowl the streets or hang out at Eclipse.”

  She rises up to her elbow. “Eclipse? You have to be kidding me.”

  “What?”

  “I always knew there was something different about that place.”

  My laugh barks out of me before I can stop it. “Because you’re magic.”

  “Can you go anywhere in the world?”

  “Anywhere I have already been.”

  “Do you ever go back to England?”

  “No.”

  “What about France?”

  “What about it?”

  “Have you been there?”

  “Yes.” My heart picks up pace, tripping in my chest. It’s as if she’s drawn to my secret, knowing all the questions to ask. But perhaps it’s important for her to know the details in order to reverse it. I inhale on a count of eight and release it. “I lived in Paris a long, long time ago. I had a lover there. Her name was Anka.”

  Aurelia stills, as if knowing the story holds importance.

  “Anka was a witch, magic like you, only a different, darker energy. She was my lover in the true sense of the word—I worshipped her. She had me wrapped around her finger, and I did anything and everything she asked of me.”

  “You did evil things for her,” Aurelia murmurs.

  My gaze jerks to her face. How does she know? Aurelia stares into space without focus, as if her gold flecked eyes are viewing the invisible.

  “Yes,” I whisper. Images of the body I drained flood my vision. Clearing my throat, I speak in a normal voice. “I did anything and everything she asked of me. I killed her enemies, I changed people’s minds, I set the stage for her success. She used her gift of sight, and she had a powerful understanding of manipulating energy, like you. Anyone she cursed ended in ruin. She became the wealthiest and most famous madame in all of Paris. And it turned out, I was just a tool she used for her ambition. She lied to make me believe she loved me, that I was her only lover. But I had doubts. When I foun
d out for certain—” I break off.

  “What did you do?” Aurelia prompts.

  “I took up residence with another madame. Just to hurt Anka, I suppose. To inflict the same sense of betrayal I experienced. When Anka found out, she threw the curse.”

  “There’s a lot of darkness in that tale,” Aurelia says softly.

  “Yeah. I never believed in the good witch vs. evil witch thing. To me, a witch is someone who harnesses nature’s power for her own intent, be it to heal or to curse. But now that I’ve met someone like you, whose magic is so different, I think perhaps she was just evil.”

  “What about vampires?”

  The corners of my mouth tug upwards in a bitter smile. “We’re all evil, love.”

  “No,” Aurelia disagrees softly. “Not you. You might have loose morals, but you are not evil.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just know.” She thrusts her chin forward. “No, I think you were right the first time. No one is either good or evil. We are all capable of both.”

  I kiss the top of her head, hardly believing how much things had changed between us. “I’m sorry I almost killed your friend today,” I offer in an attempt to redeem myself.

  She giggles. “I’m sorry he showed up. That was embarrassing.”

  “I can assure you he will remember nothing about seeing you like that.”

  “Oh I know. I meant I was embarrassed about you seeing the kind of loser I used to date.” My Tinkerbell peers up at me from under her lashes. “Were you, um, jealous?”

  I roll her to her back, covering her body with my own stronger one. “Of course I was. Why do you think I wanted to kill him?”

  “Does that mean...you like me?”

  I rain kisses on her temple, her jaw, her neck. “Yes, little mortal,” I admit. “I like you.”

  “Are you going to erase my memory and disappear after I figure out how to lift the curse?” Her tone is light, but she’s still and wide-eyed, waiting for my answer.

  I chuckle. “I wasn’t planning on it. To be honest, I haven’t thought that far with my agenda. All I have so far is: A) torment Aurelia and B) torment Aurelia naked and C) torment Aurelia into getting rid of curse. That is the end of my list.”

  She glowers at me, so I know she knows I’m joking. Or at least, half joking.

  So much for redeeming myself.

  “I’m open to a change of agenda. What do you have in mind?”

  She blinks without answering. A silence stretches between us. She’s really thinking things through. Could she be considering any kind of future with me?

  “Where do you sleep normally?” she asks finally, changing the subject.

  “I have a place,” I say. First rule of Vampire Survival: don’t tell people where you spend your days. The lethargy makes us helpless.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve trusted anyone enough to sleep beside them. Aurelia is an exception in all things.

  “You have a place? Good gravy, Charlie, enough with the details.” Aurelia rolls her eyes.

  I pinch her and she yelps. “Why do you want to know?”

  She shrugs, her gaze down. “No reason.”

  I want to probe, but her eyelids are heavy. She’s been through a lot tonight. And if she really is thinking about a future with me, well, it’s only a matter of time before she realizes a being like her doesn’t belong with someone like me.

  I hitch her closer. “Go to sleep, darling.”

  “What if I don’t want to sleep?” She pouts. Her lower lip juts out, puffy and delectable. My fangs sharpen to needlepoints. I want to feed so badly, I’m dizzy.

  “Then I’ll think of something to tire you out,” I sit up and blur to my box of goodies. I move slowly enough my Tinkerbell can see where I go. I return to her side with the sexy corset and filmy stockings. The old fashioned lingerie triggers memories I’ve long let dormant. I push them away.

  “Put them on,” I order in a silky tone and lounge back on the bed while my slave fairy does as I command. I have to help her hook the corset, but the result is stunning. The tight garment pushes up her breasts into firm mounds begging for a bite, and the naughty stockings and garters frame her pussy perfectly.

  I drag her over my lap. Her wriggling caresses my cock, but it’s worth it. “A spanking and an orgasm, just what my little fairy needs.”

  She giggles, her feet kicking as I deliver what she needs.

  I may as well have fun with my captive mortal now because as soon as she breaks the curse, I’m gone.

  Chapter 11

  Anka

  She waited in her long burgundy silk robe, leaving the cord at the waist untied. She’d washed up after the Viscount de Marmont, not wanting Charles to know she’d been with another man. She found the Viscount’s adoration too much to turn away. Today he had brought her a sapphire bracelet and begged her to become his mistress. She had laughed lightly and told him to go home to his wife, even as she knew he’d be back the next night, like a love-starved puppy.

  She didn’t know why she still took the men to her bed. She had told Charles, sworn to him, even, that she’d given them all up save for him. And she always meant it, especially when the vampire pinned her wrists above her head and hovered over her, his fangs long and dangerous, looking like the devil’s most beautiful son. He was the only man she’d ever let dominate her. Even when she had just begun as a painted lady, she never took the rough ones.

  But Charles...Charles made her go weak in the knees. Knowing the power he possessed—the sheer strength, the dangerous fangs, his ability to throw a glamour over her and make her do his bidding—knowing even with her magic, he could break her bones or take her life with one snap of his hand. Yet he only ever showed chivalry. Even when inflicting pain. Especially then. Charles was the only person in the world she trusted. They were a team, she and Charles. Two dark beings who lived for the night.

  Why then, her dalliances? She couldn’t help herself. The power over the men was exquisite. They built her magic by worshipping her. And the gifts and money...ah. She’d never grow tired of those, despite her already enormous wealth. The actual act meant nothing to her—it was just sex, not an expression of love or intimacy or any other insipid thing the poets like to ascribe to it. She had no reason to feel guilty over it. She was not betraying Charles if her heart still belonged to him. But she could not tell him because the vampire had a jealous temper. Yes...she’d seen it at the beginning of their relationship. and she had no desire for her lucrative clients to come to harm.

  Maybe part of her liked playing with fire, too.

  A flicker of lamplight made her turn, and she drew in a breath. Her vampire had appeared. He held her Mardi Gras mask up to his face, the blue of his eyes standing out against the satin frame.

  “So?” she asked. She’d been expecting him, otherwise they would have had words over his appearing in her room without knocking. She insisted he not materialize into her room, arguing that she might be dealing with sensitive matters involving her girls.

  Charles tossed the mask onto her bed with a casual flick of his wrist. “He had a sudden change of heart and signed it,” Charles said, a smug twist of his lips as he handed her the contract for the purchase of a fine new property across the street where she wished to expand her business.

  She reached for him, pulling his head down to reward him with a deep kiss. Kisses she reserved for him. No other man touched her lips. Ever.

  She opened her robe and let it fall to the floor, standing only in her corset and stockings.

  “Mmm,” Charles murmured appreciatively, pinching one nipple through the fabric. He twisted the little nub, causing her to gasp at the sharp pain. “Show me your thanks,” he said, pushing her to her knees.

  “I thought I was.” She reached for his trousers, opening them to free his spectacular cock. She swirled her tongue over the head of it. “Do all vampires have such beautiful cocks?” she asked him.

  His breath grew ragged, and he
gripped her hair.

  “Hmm?” she asked, taking as much of his length as possible into the pocket of her cheek while using her fist to squeeze the base.

  He tightened his hold on her hair. “Stop talking,” he ordered, but her power over him was evident in the deepness of his voice.

  “I love to suck your cock,” she cooed, moving one hand to his balls.

  “Naughty witch,” he said, lifting her to her feet. “I think you must desire my punishment.” He pushed her over the edge of the bed and picked up the riding crop he kept there for their fun. “Count them,” he ordered.

  No matter how many times they had played this game, she always felt a shiver of fear. Perhaps that was the appeal of Charles as a lover. He was not wholly safe. He turned animal when angry or when blood starved. He thrilled her with his ability to overpower her, and yet he never, ever missed knowing when she’d had enough or what was too much.

  He brought the crop down smartly across her derrière, and she drew in her breath. “One,” she murmured. He snapped it down again. “Two.” The first weal began to burn as she felt its full effect. “Three!” she cried when the next stroke fell. “Slow down!” she gasped.

  Charles lifted her head with a fist in her hair. “Who is in charge here?” His voice was low and sultry, his fangs glittering in the flickering light.

  “You are?” she whispered.

  “I am.” And to prove it, he laid the next five strokes too fast for her to even count.

  She screamed into her silk bedspread. “Forgive me,” she gasped, writhing over the bed, her aching breasts enjoying the friction, the fire across her bottom only stoking the one between her legs.

  “That’s better,” he purred, sliding the tip of the crop between her legs and rubbing it back and forth over her honeyed opening.

  “Oh,” she moaned.

  “Climb up on the bed and spread your legs wide,” he ordered.

  She crawled on her hands and knees to the center of the bed, where she sat, leaning back on her hands and spreading her feet wide with her knees bent.

  “Touch her,” he said, pointing with the crop to her sex.