Forbidden Drink (21 page)

Oh good grief, despite everything - or in spite of it - this man could upset me.

“So,
ma douce
, are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

I shook myself out of the stupor I was in and turned to Amisi, she still had her head respectfully down, not making eye contact, pretending she hadn't been here during Michel and my little exchange. It must be something Egyptian, or maybe just Nosferatin and I had never had that training before.

“Michel, this is Amisi Minyawi. Amisi the Master of Auckland City, Michel Durand.”

Amisi raised her eyes to Michel's then and bowed low, fisted hand across her chest, just like the vampires do. A formal show of respect.

“Greetings from Nafrini Al-Suyuti, Master of Cairo City. She sends her thanks to you, Master, for your hospitality to one of her kind, as do I.” She rose then and smiled at him, the most mesmerising flash of deep chocolate brown eyes. I glanced at him and caught his reaction: stunned. For a moment no one else existed in that room but them and I couldn't help the feeling of jealousy that crept into my heart. I stomped on it, I booted it out, but I still felt the echo that it had left behind.

It also dawned on me, how out of touch I was with protocol. I am a Nosferatin and for all intents and purposes, a very powerful one, but I was not raised by Nosferatin parents. I missed out on all the upbringing that Amisi has had. She knew how to act around a Master of a City. Whereas I had practically made a spectacle of myself when I met Nafrini, simply offering her my hand to shake and a simple
Hi, how are ya
kind of greeting. I cringed at the memory and once again pined for my father.

What type of Nosferatin would I have been if he had raised me as he was meant to?

Michel pulled himself together fairly quickly, returning his face to its usual blank mask.

“You are welcome in my city, Nosferatin. It brings me pleasure to greet one of Nafrini's kind.”

Amisi seemed to relax at that, so perhaps the formalities were all over. Michel returned his gaze to me. I wondered then if he was disappointed in his choice of joined Nosferatin, he could have chosen one as well educated in the ways of the Nosferatu as Amisi. She has been raised around them, Nafrini had a large line, who all live cooperatively with Nero's Nosferatin community. I have never heard of another like it, so compatible, so cohesive. Nothing would surprise Amisi, she'd been surrounded by vampire habits since birth. She would have made a much better match for Michel.

Just then, there was a soft knock on the door and Erika walked in.

“All sorted,” she said to me, referring to the woman. I trusted that she had got the human home and nothing untoward would have happened. Erika just gave me that sense of confidence. She liked the rules, she lived by them, even if she liked to upset them from time to time.

“Excellent timing Erika,” Michel said, but somehow I doubted it was a coincidence. His eyes hadn't left me the entire time he spoke. “If you wouldn't mind entertaining our visiting Nosferatin for a while, I have business with my kindred to attend.”

She nodded in agreement and flashed a fanged smile at Amisi. Amisi just laughed, which only made Erika smile more.

“Come on, Hunter, let me show you my swords.”

They trotted out of the room with me looking after them and then the door shut softly behind their backs.

When I turned back to face Michel, he was once again before me and this time he didn't hesitate to take me in his arms.

I felt one of  his hands go around my body, pulling me against his chest, while the other ran up my back and into my hair and then his face come towards my neck and without even pausing, his fangs entered above his mark.

You are mine,
was all I heard in my head as his beautiful scent filled my nose and desire shot through to my bones.

I felt my back hit the closed door behind us, as his lips worked the flesh at my neck, his throat swallowing convulsively as my blood poured into him. The hand in my hair kept me still, the other starting to work its way up my body, pausing at my breast. He shifted his weight slightly, so one of his thighs was between my legs and his hand could better cup my breast. And then he started rubbing against me, enough to make me gasp and then my own desire started to compete with his and I found myself wrapping a leg around him and pulling him closer.

The past few days had been Hell on Earth. So many mistakes. So much Dark. So much hurt and anger and pain. Yet no matter what, whether we had come to a fragile understanding of each other's motives or not, as soon as this man laid a hand on me, I was lost. Lost to him, lost to my utter longing to be close to him. Lost to all reasonable thought, banishing doubts, hiding away questions and just embracing the connection we shared. I wanted to cling to my anger. I wanted to keep some distance, some semblance of control over my life. But as his hands caressed me and his scent engulfed me I realised, none of it mattered. None of it mattered at all. If I continued on this path of doubting his motives, of not allowing him back in, I would die a slow death, suffocating on the loss of him. I needed Michel like I needed air to breathe.

“Michel,” I whispered his name like I had only just realised who he was. He just growled and held me tighter, his lips so hot against my skin, his hand so sure under my jacket at my breast. I allowed myself to sink into the moment, no thought of right or wrong, no attempt to keep my distance, not a single Prophesy problem entering my head. Not a single thought of control or manipulation or stupid Dark-induced mistakes.

Just me and him. My kindred Nosferatu and the feel of his hard body against mine, my blood flowing to his. I felt the weight of the world leave my shoulders, I felt light and free. And complete. I melted into him and he responded, lifting my body up off the ground, forcing my skirt, which was longer than I usually wear, up around my hips, until I could get both my legs around him and feel his hard erection at my centre, straining against his jeans. The gentle rocking of his hips sending me into overdrive, making me want him so badly, making my body move in a rhythm against his.

He swung us around and headed for the desk, reaching out and wiping whatever had been on it off to the floor, then gently placing me on my back on top of it. His hand came up between my legs, removing my underwear in a simple flick. I have no idea how he manages that move, I seem to be too distracted at the time to comprehend. Then his jeans and boxers were removed, out of the way and he entered me in a rush. There was no slow building penetration, this was all about possession. He had marked me at my neck with his bite, which he was still feeding from I realised and now he was marking me inside.

His rhythm was urgent in a way I hadn't experienced from him before, but despite the fast pace and sudden invasion, I couldn't seem to stop myself from responding. I kept begging for more, for faster, for deeper and harder. And he kept giving it to me, equally as frantic as I was to be together, to be as close as we could get, to not let anything stand between us anymore.

I don't know how long it had been since he bit me, I had lost all sense of time, but as we both came together in a fantastic burst of release, he was still feeding and I hadn't even realised I had gathered my Light and sent it flooding through him. The sensation of his mouth on my neck, his fangs in my flesh and my blood being sucked out of my body, while my Light flooded through us and around and over us, was so intense, so personal, so intimate. I felt tears rolling down my cheeks as we continued to ride wave after wave of orgasms that washed past us, clinging to each other, unable to let go.

Finally, after an eternity of bliss, he retracted his fangs and licked my neck to stop the flow of blood. I could smell him all around me, his fresh clean scent, salty sea spray and newly cut grass, mixed in with the smells of sex and sweat and something else I couldn't quite place, but it was everywhere. All over me, all over him, all around us.

He pulled his face back from my neck and looked at me, his hand brushing my hair aside, stroking my chin. His eyes dancing an indigo, amethyst and magenta maelstrom of colours before me, his lips still red from my blood. He licked them slowly and I couldn't stop myself lifting my head to kiss them, his hand coming behind my neck to help raise me, his tongue stroking across my mouth when we met. I could taste the blood, slightly metallic and I heard myself groan. I don't know why, it's blood and I do
not
drink blood at all, but the erotic sensation of my blood on his lips just did it for me and I shuddered against him at the images it created in my mind. These images were wanted, invited. I welcomed them in.

He sighed as he lowered me again to the desk.

“Please forgive me,
ma douce
. I had not meant to act... so... possessively. I heard your thoughts of Nero and I couldn't stop myself, I needed to make you mine.” On top of everything else that happened over the past few days, this I could understand.

I blew a breath out and suddenly became very aware of where we were. His body against mine, both of us still half dressed, but naked where we met at our core, he was still inside me, so close, so intimate. He sensed my slight stiffening, but didn't move away, just shifted slightly, making me feel him harden inside me again. Making me feel my own heat begin to rise.

“Michel.” I was going to say get off me, pull out, stop, but he just bent down and kissed me with a fierceness that took my breath away, his tongue entering my mouth in a rush, his lips pressed firmly against me, his hips starting to rotate, to grind against me. Oh dear God, I couldn't say no and he knew it.

As he gently thrust against me, he hardened, lengthening and thickening inside, he whispered against my lips, “I have tried to give you space, I am trying, I really am, but I cannot bear the thought of losing you. It scares me, I have come so close to losing you already, I cannot survive it again. Oh God, Lucinda!” His hips were becoming more forceful, his breath more ragged with each word. I was mesmerised by his movements, trapped by his words, I could no further pull away than throw him across the room. My own body responding to his call and moving beneath him, meeting him midway, my back arching off the desk as he entered me again and again and again. “You are mine. I will no longer share you and to hell with your need for independence. On this you cannot argue. You. Are. Mine.”

Each of the the last three words were punctuated with a thrust of his hips making his hard length enter me as far as he could reach, shoving me back against the desk. Each movement a punctuation mark, an exclamation mark. The smell of him surrounding me, encasing me, caressing me.

“Say it,” he breathed against me.

“No,” I managed to reply, but he just moved his hips in a circle making me lose my breath and whimper beneath him.

“Say it.” Still whispered, still accompanied by the most erotic swirl of his hips.

“You can't make me.”

He laughed, a chuckle against me, his body moving with the rumble of his chest making me clench tight around his length and my eyes close of their own accord.

“I will have you say it.” This time his voice was low, almost a growl, but I was losing ground. Not only because of what his body was doing to me - the damn man had no shame - but also because my body, my mind, my heart craved it. I couldn't deny it, even though I knew I had to. I'd made such ground in separating from him, in gaining some distance to do what it is I will have to do. To admit I was his now would be the end of me.

I knew I couldn't hold out much longer, so I did the only thing I could think of to distract him, to stall for time, I kissed him. And I kissed him with as much of me as I possibly could, letting him know what I was capable of, who I was; not showing fear, not giving an inch, but always staying on guard. He groaned against me and couldn't pull out of the kiss. I had him trapped, as he had me and I felt my inner monologue - that had remained suspiciously quiet throughout all of this - stretch and purr, like a satisfied cat, then settle again as the kiss deepened. And then his rhythm faltered and my body responded to his urgent demand and we both crested the wave again, for a second time, together. Panting against each other as he let his full weight fall on top of me, pinning me like a heavy blanket, wrapping me in all of him.

“You are impossible,
ma douce
. You know you are mine. I know this, you know this, you
will
acknowledge it one day.”

I didn't disagree with him, I just didn't say a word, suddenly exhausted and replete and so very proud of myself for not giving in. But a small voice in the back of my head just whispered,
and he is yours too.

I pushed that aside. I didn't need the complication. I had stood against him and held my own, for now that was enough. The sex aside, I could accept this as a victory.

He slowly lifted off me, but not without stroking my face, kissing my cheek, running his hand down my side. He wasn't pulling away, he was making that quite clear. I got the impression that casual touching was over for him, he was going to continue to claim me at every turn. I sent a silent prayer to Nut that I would survive the attention, even knowing I'd be unable to walk away from it, but praying I could still remain me. That I wouldn't crumble under the euphoria he created and let him all the way back in. I couldn't function like that, I couldn't let him have that kind of control.

He stood and covered himself with his clothes, tucking his T-Shirt back into his jeans. I managed to smooth my skirt back down and straighten my top and jacket, but when I went to stand, the world went black and I tilted sideways.

“
Merde,
” I heard Michel mutter as he lifted me in his arms and carried me to a couch in the corner of the room, lying me flat on my back and kneeling down next to me.

I blinked a few times to get the world to stop spinning and make the fuzzies disappear, but to no avail.

“I have someone bringing you something to drink,
ma douce
. I took more blood than I should have.” He didn't sound particularly happy with himself right now, but then he shouldn't, should he?

“You've never done that before.” My voice sounded a little far away, almost down the end of a tunnel. Whoa, the room seemed weird right now. I was actually seeing two of him.

“I am sorry,
ma belle
. I seem to forget how much of me is vampyre. The need to mark you, to claim you, overcame all reason.”

I thought that might have been my line. I seem to forget how much a vampire he is too. Which made what he had just done and what he had been doing over the past few days, weeks even, make so much more sense. I didn't really want it to make sense, but a part of me just sighed. Maybe it was time to let it make sense. To not give in, mind you,
never give an inch
, but to accept. To move on. I think I had reached that point where I could just manage that. I think he had reached it too.

Just then he stood up quickly and went to the door, returning a second later with a glass
of what looked like
Coke
.

“
Drink this, it is full of sugar.” He helped me sit up slightly, with his hand behind my back as I sipped the drink. I detested the taste, I'm a
Diet Coke
kind of girl all the way. He made me drink all of it though, before letting me lie back down on the couch.

I must have closed my eyes for a while, because when I opened them, Michel was sitting on the floor next to me, legs stretched out in front, arm resting on the couch seat cushion beside my body, his eyes on my face. He looked gorgeous. I frowned at that.

“What is it,
ma douce
?”

“You have no right being so damn gorgeous.” I could only put it down to my lack of blood that made me say that out loud.

He smiled, which made him seem even more edible and started stroking my neck, above his mark, with his fingers.

“
Did you mark me
again
?” I asked, watching his eyes follow the movement of his index finger over his mark.

He chuckled, that delightful sound I couldn't seem to get enough of. “I did try, you wouldn't let me though.”

Ha. Score for me.

“Just how many times do you want to mark me, Michel?”

“As many as it takes to get your attention,
ma douce
.”

I let that statement settle between us without comment.

“You know, you could have done better for yourself than me.” I couldn't help remembering the look on his face when his eyes met Amisi, or the way she had carried herself in front of him. Jealous, me? Nah.

“
You were made for me, as I was for you," he replied simply. "There can be no one else, you just need to accept that idea and then all these distractions you seem to entertain will disappear.” He said it with a twinkle in his eye, but I knew he was serious. The distractions he spoke of were Gregor and to a certain extent, Nero. I think he'd made himself quite clear on where he stood on both those counts, tonight even pushing home the
I will not share
line with force.