“Then while we can, while we can bear it, we should be joined.” Her gaze fell to his neck. “Marcus. I want your vein this morning.”
He groaned. “You’ve got it.” His voice was dark and husky.
Marcus crawled across the bed, over her body, until he was on the other side of her, his hands dragging across her peaked breasts. He stretched out on his back, one knee up. He tilted his head to expose his throat. She rolled toward him, her torso sliding over his. She caught his stiff cock in her hand until she rubbed just the tip with her thumb. God, it felt good. His woman knew how to touch him. She was familiar with a man’s body. She didn’t grab and pull, she stroked lightly and teased.
Her tongue fell against his neck and rasped over his vein on the left side so that he could feel her breasts rubbing against his rib cage and chest. He drifted his hands over her. He loved the body of a woman, he loved the smoothness of her skin, the silky quality, the way her ribs narrowed to her waist, the way he could put his hands almost all the way around her waist, the way she moaned when he squeezed, the way her hips flared, the smallness of her compared with the bulk of his muscles. He wrapped her up in his arms so that even though he had the strength to squeeze the life out of her all he did was cradle her gently.
He surrounded her as she licked his neck and brought his vein throbbing to the surface.
She tilted her head to get the right angle.
The taking of blood was pure sex, nothing less. She would be in a frenzy soon and he’d eventually find his way inside her, but there was always more than one means of giving her the pleasure she would need right now.
“Take me, Havily,” he whispered. “Damn, I want you taking my blood.”
He felt moisture drip onto his neck … then her fangs struck, swift and sure, practiced. She moaned as she began to drink from him in strong deep draws. He groaned and every muscle in his body contracted and released in one snake-like wave of desire. His shoulders lifted, then relaxed, his arms hugged, then retreated, his chest pushed against her breasts, then drew back to allow her more access. His hips rolled and his legs rocked against her and around her.
She kept suckling but her body responded in kind until she moved against him with each draw. She rubbed the juncture between her legs against the top of his heavy muscled thigh. Oh, yeah. He responded by flexing that muscle and pushing against her each time her hips rolled over him.
Her moans increased in strength and frequency and then her mind touched his.
Oh, God, Marcus. You taste like heaven. Fennel down my throat. My stomach is on fire and I want you, want you, want you …
His eyes rolled in his head. Her thumb still teased the head of his cock. “Havily,” he murmured, his voice rough and deep.
You’re weeping, she sent as her thumb stroked back and forth.
Yes. Yes. Oh, God, Havily, mount me. Let me take us both where we need to go.
Yes.
He held a strong arm against her shoulders to keep her mouth connected to his vein, then he carefully maneuvered his body under hers. It took a certain amount of skilled hip swiveling and positioning but finally his cock reached her opening and with a slow thrust he penetrated her.
She cried out even as she pushed her tongue against his vein and held him in place. Then she suckled harder.
She was so wet. Her moans sent lightning through his cock until his balls ached. Her hips bucked and she nearly let go of his neck but he sent, Let me do the work. Just stay put and take what you need from me.
Oh, Marcus. Why do you have to be so wonderful?
He smiled as he thrust, carefully at first; then he steadily increased the pace until she was barking her pleasure between sucks and murmuring inside his head, Oh, God, over and over.
It had been a long time since a woman had taken his vein, over two hundred years. Yes, he’d taken some veins in between, but all those women had been mortal and couldn’t return the favor. He had forgotten the sex of it, the pleasure of it, the feelings of oneness, of communion, to be the one allowing the invasion, giving the most essential life fluid. He caressed her buttocks and groaned. He was so close now and she had grown tight, a sure sign she was ready to take flight herself. And he knew exactly what she was doing when her right hand crept around his waist and slid beneath his back.
His balls tightened a little more. He wanted her to do it. Yes, he sent.
Oh, shit. Her fingers found a ridge, just one wing-lock, and she began to rub.
Havily. Shit. Are you ready? Because what you’re doing is going to take me the distance.
A moan was her only response, her mouth working wildly at his neck now. He took that as a yes and increased the pace, his hips bucking, his cock thrusting in and out. She dragged a nail over the ridge. He cried out and before he could warn her he began to come but she was ready. She finally released his neck and arched over him, rising up, staring into his eyes, then capturing his mouth with hers. She moaned at the same time, and he could feel the grip of her core pulling at him as he spent his seed.
He surrounded her with his arms and held her tight as he thrust his tongue into her mouth. She dueled with him. Her body continued to buck and pull at him and his orgasm spun out like a wild ride at Six Flags. So, shit.
After her body quieted, she pulled back—but only far enough to then fall against him, her arms spread out on either side of him. He chuckled. He held her close and his pecs flexed against her chest. She cooed her pleasure. He kissed her neck, her cheek, her beautiful red hair.
Your blood is like heaven, my dear man.
God, I love you in my head.
Ditto. That was … just … amazing. You’re amazing. You’re so damn strong. When you were powering into me. Oh. My. God.
These words couldn’t have pleased him more. He pushed her back then rolled her carefully so that they were still connected. For just a few minutes, he wanted to be on top and to look at her.
Her gaze fell to his neck and touched the spot over his vein where she’d taken him. Withdrawing the fangs left behind a healing potion that sealed the wound. With the quick healing of Second Earth, what would have been a bruise would be little more than a pair of small red marks in an hour and nothing within the space of another thirty minutes. He moved over her and pressed into her mons. She responded by tightening her muscles, holding his cock tight. He chuckled. “It’s like we’ve been married for years.”
She smiled and huffed a sigh. “I loved being married. I was looking forward to being married again.”
He nodded and ran his finger down her cheek and over her lips. “To Eric.”
“Yes.”
“Did you love him, Havily, really love him?”
She smiled but her eyes tightened. “I did. I fell hard for him. I hadn’t expected love to find me again.”
“Did he take your blood as I have?”
She looked at him, her hands now stroking his shoulders, her thumbs lower as she rubbed his pecs back and forth. “You’re not going to get jealous, are you?”
He shook his head. “Just wondering.”
She huffed a sigh. “Well, I was nervous at first, either direction, but yes, we exchanged blood. He was my first, my only, until now. It was … extraordinary. What about you?”
“Yes, I mean no. I mean, I’ve taken blood in the last couple of centuries but I’ve not had a woman at my neck since I left Second Earth.” He stroked her hair and kissed her cheek, her chin, then lower to press his lips against her throat. “I loved it. I truly had forgotten how wonderful it could be.”
He felt dizzy suddenly, as though he stood on top of a tall building, peering over the edge. He let himself drift forward and he fell. Yes, he was falling, that was the sensation he felt, falling and falling but there was no ground to hit, just an infinite abyss full of pleasure, ease, comfort.
What did it mean that being connected to Havily made him feel like this?
He spun the mystery in my head
My heart cried out
My soul rejoiced
Tendrils of euphoria
Removed every hesitation
—Collected Poems, Beatrice of Fourth
Chapter 13
Fabulous, hot, steaming water broke over Havily’s shoulders, and she let out a soft moan. Bathing on Vancouver Island in 1910 meant building a fire and heating water on top of a coal-burning stove. The good old days had nothing on water heaters and indoor plumbing. Hallelujah for a hot shower.
She breathed and breathed, the moisture of the shower a relief from the dry desert air. As she lathered, her head wagged back and forth.
With every molecule of space Marcus took up in her life, with every millisecond she was with him, the bond was growing. She could feel all those tendrils weaving through her body and tightening his hold on her, and he wasn’t even doing it on purpose.
Earlier, she had tried to tell him that she didn’t want to be near him and then she had stroked his wing-locks. What an idiot. But it was clear that even though her mind might be able to make sense of things and shoot off warnings every now and then, her body was completely in control.
Memories jostled her as she rinsed off.
She had taken his blood. She had taken his blood. Her knees buckled in the shower and she only just caught herself from falling.
His blood, oh-my-God, his blood had been incredible. She could feel it now singing through her veins. The power, the sheer power of taking blood felt as though light and heat vibrated within each muscle of her body, warming her, opening her heart, even her mind.
And the sex? Once more her knees weakened, threatening to send her down to the tile. Even if she could make a rational decision to stay away from him, just how was she supposed to do that when right now, if he busted through the door, she’d just open her arms wide and take him inside?
Parisa had awakened to the sounds of sex, beautiful throaty sex in the room opposite. She was both embarrassed and aroused. The shower had been running off and on for some time, so she supposed the latest round was over.
She sighed heavily as she sat up and slipped her legs over the side of the bed. She adjusted the black silk since it had gotten caught between her legs. Her body was heated, her mind distressed.
