Seithe (20 page)

"Yes. Latin dancing is steamy and delicious, and I'd like to work that little body of yours up into a frenzy."

A smug grin rearranges my dark pink lips. They feel pouty, swollen from kiss gorging for days on end. I can't resist strutting, copying Ellindt's sashay in a teasing fashion as I walk with him to a different room on a new straight passage. I suppose all of these dancing flames along the walls, the sedating warmth of this place, and the fact that we look like the next power couple to be featured in Times, all makes for a sexually charged environment.

I let him seat me on a chair at a black table in a huge room. Chandeliers glitter sporadically in darkness. The only light is next to a grand piano on this table. One lamp switched on to my left on the table. A tray awaits covered in a red velvet cloth.

The room has amazing acoustics as my favourite band begins to play. Manifest whatever you desire. I don't need to accept immortality, I have Seithe who can manifest whatever I desire. Including cuddles and kisses, and orgasms, and massages, and sensation and temptation overload.

"On this tray will be a number of objects. Music can work one of two ways. It can either distract your concentration, or intensify it. Either way, we're doing this my way." I arch a slender black eyebrow, nodding my understanding.

"In a moment I'm going to remove this cloth. You have sixty seconds to memorise everything on the tray."

I nod again, taking a deep breath, watching the tray. He flips the cloth off, and I stare at random objects. A pocket watch, broach, thimble, flick-knife, candle snuffer, sugar bowl, playing card - queen of hearts, lip balm, a segment of orange, hairbrush and bottle of spirits.

I've barely considered them all when the cloth is replaced.

"Tell me what was on the tray."

Closing my eyes, I
am
finding the music distracting. "Bottle of surgical spirits, orange, candle snuffer, knife, watch, thimble, broach." I open my eyes, staring up into his being alarmingly blue, "Oh and a playing card."

"You have forgotten to recall lip balm, sugar bowl and hairbrush." He flicks his hand like a magician over the velvet before revealing the tray scattered with completely different objects, "Again!"

I stare at scissors, lighter, measuring tape, salt shaker, perfume, chocolate, wallet, hair band, safety pin, a pink rose and a packet of tissues.

He re-sheaths the tray.

"Salt shaker, perfume, chocolate, wallet, rose, tissues, pin, scissors and measuring tape."

He smiles down at me. Offering me a hand. "Ever danced the Rumba, Phoebe?"

I shake my head as he extricates my derriere off the chair's cushion to find itself squeezed by his strong hand. He spins me as the music changes. Hands on my hips he starts rotating them against his groin. Giggling helplessly, "Seithe that is SO ticklish!"

"Pay attention baby girl," deeply clear in my ear. "Feel the rhythm."

He helps my shoulders rotate, reminding me of a flamenco dancer, arching my back, so that cleavage juts, my peachy shape highlighted against the skirt of my black dress. Holding one of my arms up straight, he teases it into a slow rotation. I cannot stop myself from giggling madly when he spins me out and catches my hand, spinning me back. This is so my mother's scene. Seriously not mine. The way he keeps spinning me this way then that, I feel like a headless pigeon.

I stop, giggling, refusing to move as mirrors step out of the shadows with torches being ignited.

He grins at me, "Resist this." And he grabs me, pulling my hips tightly against him. Two steps sort of back, and then he walks in this weird pelvic thrusty jiggle into my pelvis.

Fuck me, slowly.

One lazy arm commanding around my waist moving me round him, every so often dragging my foot. A giggle bubbles out again. He holds my hand up to my left facing me, "Copy me. Be my mirror baby."

I dare say my heart starts getting flirty with me when he places his hand under and between my breasts, holding me against his body, rotating our bodies in unison. I play along. I let him command my body, feeling breathless and silly when it ends, "Okay no more of that!"

Smiling at me, he mentions, "So you don't like the Rumba or Salsa or Mambo?"

"You're too old for me, maybe you should be dating my mum, she'd love this."

"What is dance, Phoebe?"

"A waste of time and completely destructive to your image."

"It is memory."

Right! Duh!

He leads me back to my chair and tray. As I sit down he manifests a jug of my all time favourite!

I am repelled off the seat into his arms, winding my arms tightly around his neck, pulling myself in for a kiss.

"Margaritas! How did you know?"

"Baby girl, I told you your tastes are in your blood. I know what you like and how often you like it."

Laughing, I cannot resist, "Then why am I still wearing this dress?"

"Because tonight, you're working for your pleasures," gets dropped by a throaty seductive baritone into my ear.

Lordy, I am so addicted.

I do as commanded, drinking away absently at my sludgy, salty margarita. I suppose it fits the music too, doesn't it? After about forty-five minutes I'm finally recalling all of the objects on the tray.

He pulls me up to stand, the lights gut. Hot palms soak through the skinny material into my cleavage, held in each hand, his breath caresses my neck where my hair is tucked away, draping long over my left shoulder. My head drops back, against his chest, when I feel the lurch.

Chapter 28: Revisited

THUMPING music starts vibrating through my chest as we're plunged into darkness - light - dark - light - light - DARK.

Now we're talking!

Pirouetting around I press my hips into his, feeling the buckle imprinting against my upper abdomen, trailing a nail down his arm from his shoulder.

Slipping palms behind him I hold onto him tightly, flowing gently against him with only my upper body, like a belly dancer, the smooth satin slipping against his naked torso, highlighting my nipples, long hair snaking over my bared spine.

Entwining my fingers through his, I trace lips, breathless kisses over his skin plunged in and out of black blindness, still moving as if by a breeze, until with a drum pound I bite hard, arching my neck in pale exposure, I laugh seductively up at him.

His eyes are so brightly silver. His hair is white. One hand grips my hair in the nape, keeping my head still out of fear of pain. His mouth penetrates mine in such a primal way that my heart accelerates with exhilaration.

Another hand clamps under my thigh, exposing my leg as I take the hint and wrap my leg around his as high as I can without ripping the dress. I let him drag me, half carried until I'm thrust into a wall.

Despite the fervent kissing my sensory perception is chattering noisily at me. I smell strange and unfamiliar scents. I have a nervousness working macramé in my stomach. I feel other people, the weight of their staring.

He releases me and I push his shoulders back, shoving him against the wall. Weaving with the rhythm of the gothic grunge, snaking my tongue down over his skin, flirting with intra navel hairs. Hips, knees, rotating shoulders, hair, all subliminal in erotic sensuous snaking, matching the tasting of his contours beneath my tongue. Again the chorus has him ensnaring my hair, pulling me up, pounding me hard into the mirrored wall on the dance floor.

Holding my wrists tightly against the smooth cool surface. A strong scent rushes past, catching my breath with it. He ignores it as his hardening body moves against mine, teasing, tempting.

The next second he's gone. Catching my breath I take a step forward away from the wall. The strobing messes with my senses. Next flash he's in front of me, squeezing a nipple between hot fingers. I pull myself closer, breathing in the allspice now on his breath, running the tip of my tongue over his lip, flirting into his mouth.

Between seconds he's gone. Instantaneously returning, rubbing his body against my exposed shoulders and spine. I lean back, swaying with him. I stagger as he disappears again. Smiling smugly to myself I realise this is vampire flirting. *Catch me if you can.*

I close my eyes, probing the space around me, seeking the sirocco scent, the familiar light vibe, my anomaly. I sense his approach, catching his hand in mine.

"That's my girl," floats into my ear before he disappears again.

With my eyes closed I feel fear encroaching, there is someone I don't like right next to me now.

My eyes, open, staring at ten past two position, red eyes glow back at me. I let my inner ESP reach out, recognising him now. "Get lost Grastle."

"Where's your sponsor, woman?"

Laughing with mild relief, "Right behind you."

"Grastle leave her. You are unwelcome."

Grastle turns and glares, veins start popping out, shocking me silent. "She's marked."

And he disappears.

Seithe steps into my space pulling me tight to cloak his body, one hand holding the small of my back against the bulge behind his zip, his voice oddly dangerous, "I'm going to leave you with Darise for five minutes. No longer I promise."

My mild arousal flees, "Okay."

I know somehow this isn't the time to argue or demand an explanation. I let him lead me by the hand away from the floor, to the bar. A margarita appears next to my hand as Darise smiles salaciously at me, "Good evening, princess."

I notice his nod to Seithe, then Seithe vanishes. I feel strangely vulnerable right now.

"Hello Darise. How are things?"

His dark eyes flicker with red highlights, now instead of intriguing me, it makes me anxious.

"Things are always good. Seithe has been good for you. I can sense the difference."

I know my excited flush is draining out of my cheeks, I feel like a tart dressed like this hanging out at a bar in a club full of males.

"Why don't women come here?"

"Women hunt. The guys generally like a place to hang out, catch up, chill. At night our sirens are at singles bars, luring their next sucker."

I smile at his joke, "You're okay, Darise."

He smiles back at me, "You too, princess." His eyes get distracted.

My body tenses as a hand moves my hair away and trails slowly down my spine, "Well well well, it's little Phoebe."

Darise growls in an effective guttural way, "Hands off, Jowendrhan."

"Tsk tsk. I'm simply making amends with the new addition to the family, Darise. No need to get confrontational with me."

Darise's eyes flicker red flecks.

"What do you want, Jowendrhan?" My guard is up and I'm feeling very alone right now.

The bastard leaves his hand on my skin and it's heating up. He leans against the bar, shielding me from any view of anyone else.

Speaking softly into my ear, forcing us into intimacy. "I'm apologising for enjoying you, Phoebe. Forgive me."

Hmmm. Is this because Seithe won their little sparring match, or is he messing with me?

I flick nervous eyes to encounter his, still silver. I like knowing their body language.

Darise's voice intrudes, "I'm watching you, Jowendrhan."

Jowendrhan doesn't take his eyes off me, "I know you are."

Then Seithe's brother whispers softly, heating my ear, my neck, stirring the hair in my temple, "We got off on the wrong foot."

"You mean I got off on the wrong hand."

He laughs, "You are unlike your kind."

"I just don't conform, Jowendrhan."

"That's why we like you. You're different."

I lean away to focus on his face. Lordy, he is so much like Seithe that if I didn't know better I could easily confuse them.

"If I say you're forgiven will you go away and leave me alone?"

I watch his eyes survey around us, "Not such a good idea tonight. Seithe and myself have our own issues, but there's no way I'm leaving you to fend for yourself smelling the way you do."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Leaning in he whispers softly, "You have fuck me oozing out of every pore darling."

Heat chases up my neck to infuse my cheeks.

He laughs throatily, "You are one of us. They can't have you. We've bonded, I'm allowed to sponsor you and get in their way when Seithe is off on his own little mission."

Cold blue eyes flick down into my cleavage, "So typical of him to leave a lovely alone and vulnerable."

Darise hisses, "She's not alone, you reject."

Silver eyes flare, "You're the reject red eye."

For some reason I have the need to stand up for Darise who's only ever been nice to me, "He's not fully red. Do you call your sister a reject too? Leave him alone or get lost."

Jowendrhan laughs, bathing me in allspice tinted breath, "I do love your loyalty. I wonder how often it will be tested."

I arch winged black eyebrows sarcastically, "Are you always this charming or do you come standard built as a complete ass."