Zauran (12 page)

I'm debilitated with desire.

Strong hands maneuver me, lifting and holding me tightly to his chest as he turns to wide open doors,

Simultaneously every light in his home snuffs to secretive darkness. Only the music remains to witness my betrayal.

I'm snared inside the muscular penitentiary of his embrace.

He's as naked as I am and I'm indulging in the silk of his skin under my cheek. It matches the silken danger of his voice. It's an
assassin wrapped in seduction, in every nuance and action.

I know he's deadly, and it makes me thrum and hum from my swollen sex to the pulse in my throat fluttering and bashing in bipolar chaos.

Lowered onto softness, I moan when his hands hold my knees obstinately akimbo, leaning his weight on my legs to butterfly my limbs and expose the lust heating and tingling with anticipation for him.

My heart begins thumping like I'm under attack when he lowers his head, his glowing eyes the only indicator of his motion. It's a lighthouse on a ruthless sea. It calls to my soul with its twinkle and predatory glare.

Breath skates over my pubic bone and I tug on his hair when I run my fingers into the short softness of it, guiding him closer.

Take me. Make me scream. Let me float on the cloud of your ecstasy.

Demanding fingers grip my wrists and hold me down, keeping me still. The sublime language of impending aggression charges my body with adrenaline.

He breaks through the skin above my pubis; it burns and snakes toxins directly into my veins, spreading magefire magic into my womb, widening and sending roaring rage into my sex so it beats with a needy pulse of its own.

Sipping from my body his tongue rubs over and into me, licking my lust and catching my blood, drinking in every drop of nectar my body can offer him.

Trembling, my fingers gripped so tight into the linen of this bed in the ink dark mystery of his home, I'm shameless when the euphoria flows through me, making me croon and gasp with the delightful sensations chasing into me.

His hands tighten around my wrists, pushing me into the folds of the bed when he leans his weight onto them, giving me no warning when he slams the hot shaft of his erection deep inside me, sliding over blood and musk, lubricated with the coalescing desire he's been flooding into my core with his elemental bite.

It shocks me; breaks my breath clear in two and sends my awareness into spiraling dizziness.

His fingers release my wrists and a violent pressure commands my chin to the side, exposing my throat. With him hard in me and forcing himself ever deeper, my thighs burn with the effort of being so wide apart. Slowly he withdraws to slam his body into mine again, timing it to the claiming of my throat with two long vicious and cruel fangs.

Clinging to his wide back, my fingernails dig in trying to find purchase, an anchor, some reprieve from the burning hurting pleasure of him, the ache in my neck changes to raw unfiltered contraband.

It's so delicious and decadent I literally feel my heartbeat lull under the false haven of the lotion from his body channeling into mine.

Punching into me, pumping me further and further across the bed, every pound of his sex into my own brings me closer to the bottomless well of cracked sanity and charmed orgasm.

Groaning, the world seems so far away; all I can feel is his pulsating hard body icing up and down my nerve endings, making them tingle and throb and sear and blast sparks of treasure into my nipples. He's immaculate, teasing my arousal and aching need. How he knew I like to fuck like a porn star I'll never know, but I'm grateful for the torture.

The lips on my neck pinning me down with long teeth is where the real pleasure hides, filtering directly into my brain and down my spinal column, burning my veins with scalding seraphic sex. It
is
sex. It's the hormone of obliterating pleasure which is sent into me like a venomous toxin from a viper with a vendetta.

Injected with passion, I quiver and clamp around every one of his muscles with my long sigh of undoing.

He's angelic and evil. He's pleasure and pain. He's hard and oddly soft. He's danger and seduction. He's death and he's salvation.

Shattered, shuddering without control, I crest waning waves with my head feeling like I'm hanging upside down on a merry-go-round. I can't focus and am utterly incoherent.

The teeth extract from my neck and then clenched muscles coil tighter as he dives his sex harder and deeper than I thought possible.

It reaches for my heart when he widens in orgasm, making me tense and pray for fear of being irrevocably broken.

In that moment I am completely blind. It passes momentarily and gloomy shadows slowly come back into shifting focus.

His breathing isn't even labored when he moves into my line of vision, shining two diabolical spotlights into my eyes when he stares at me, illuminating his long teeth and red lips as if with ultraviolet light.

He reaches for my hands again, holding them tightly together in one hand, giving me a shadow shrouded stare of speculation.

Does he want to be mortal too? Like Darise?

“
No, I don't. I choose to be immortal, forever. Zena, let me turn you. I'm the last of my kind. You can be my future.”

It's spoken with such adoration and sensitivity that my immediate reaction is consent. The temptation is arousing me further.

“
I didn't think you could turn humans.” My voice comes out dreamy and my limbs are vibrating uncontrollably now.

“
We can, we just never have. We've never needed to.”

I quite like the idea of being immortal, a
vampire
. “I thought your sister had to do it?”

I remember Darise telling me that, and then instantly regretting it. That was the turning point for us. As if by telling me that, he burned the bridge to our future. That's when the inferno died and I ran away to hide my broken heart from his all-knowing mind.

“
She has fallen from grace. Only I have the power now,” says Jowendrhan in chilling huskiness.

I understand when he says it. As he says
power
it flows into me like a flood of wonder floating on a foaming wave of sizzling  potency. It recharges my body, makes me alert, and instantly I don't hurt.

“
You can heal, manifest, transport, you can and will be my equal.”

And I can have this sex for the rest of forever.

“
Say yes,” he whispers, resting the request like sinkers onto my lips as he arches over me and seems to hover there.

In a blink we're floating in the room, even my hair is wafting next to me because it tickles in my neck.

“
Yes.”

I want it. I really want it!

Immediately dropped back onto pliable bedding, he impales me with the thick slicked muscle of his sex and shakes like he's being electrocuted, purging scalding heat into me, through me. I'm overwhelmed with it.

I feel as if my very soul is being violated.

Slumping on me before catching his weight and bracing back up, he gasps in my ear, “That was a free will choice you made. There's just one catch, but as I had your permission I took the liberty to go ahead in sealing our deal without full disclosure.”

Sliding out of me, his hand covers my breast and snips my nipple between fingertips, leaning in to bite my bottom lip.

It's bewitching and erotic when he licks the pooling sanguine button off it.

His aggression turns me on, badly.

I'm moved and manipulated while his voice wraps a cloak around me in the dark, and I still feel potent, safe, and yet in incredible danger. It's a heady aphrodisiac.

“
Sex is one thing, but you have never had a vampyre play your spine.” I wait, my skin prickling with anticipation.

“
But first,” he softly continues, with threat heavy in his tone. “This is for me.”

Lifting me by holding my sex in his cupped hand, his incisors score two ridges down my back, cutting through skin and burning me with the sting of a white-hot poker. My body goes into pain overdrive while he inhales ominously with my scream.

“
Adrenaline turns us on, pain produces lots of it,” mumbles in my ear from behind, laced with approval and pleasure.

He's clearly mad. God, I'm violently shaking because the pain is so severe, it burns like a scorpion sting, and yet he praises me and makes it sound like I just made him so proud for being blindsided with total agony.

As if he'd read my mind, leather cords manifest on his hand and he winds them with deliberate slowness around my wrist as they unravel from his. It binds me to the thick metal filigree of the headboard.

In shadowed stealth he does the same to the other, with increments of tension increasing around my veins and fragile bones. A blindfold is unnecessary in the complete absence of light in this room.

And then he's in me, forcing the logic clear from my mind, fissuring it wide open for his penetration; my pounding point of pleasure is pinched and rubbed, his teeth claiming my skin again while he rips through me with an unholy orgasm, crying out and bunching his muscles like a straightjacket around me, hurting me and leaving me quaking with wild endorphins of pleasure and pain. It's brutal and punishing and so completely primeval that it unfurls the sadist I thought I'd repressed.

I like it, a little too much.

“
I had no clue. Did Darise really do it for you Zena?” he saws deep and gruff into my ear, his fingers like biting metal chains holding my hips hostage.

“
I hoped he would, but we never really got that far,” I whimper, shock claiming me and coming on strong.

His hand tightens on my neck, hauling me flush back against his hard body, the leather bindings magically unravelled, releasing me back into the warden's malicious hold.

“
I used to think women wanted love and romance. Phoebe crushed that misconception with a sniper's ease.” He sounds angry when he says it, his grip tensing a little too tight, just enough to cause a modicum of discomfort.

“
Who's Phoebe?” I choke against the strangulation.

“
Fuck you smell incredible when you are panicked.” His voice is closer, immediate, demanding and malevolent, “You make me want to fuck you until your spine dislocates.”

I can't swallow and my vision is beginning to swim with pins of pain. Why does his violence enthrall me? Just the purred threat he uttered makes me wanton even while I'm recovering from agony.

He eases up, rolling me like a toy to press hot lips against my throbbing sex. “He wants Phoebe, Zena. He always has and he always will. Zaria found that out the hard way.”

“
Who
is
Zaria?” None of this is making any sense, and now his mouth is kissing me better and it's twisting me into devastated cords.

“
His girlfriend. She saw you kissing him earlier and has already walked out of his life. You fucked him up tonight you wicked woman, but I'm delighted I could accommodate your dark desires and deepest fantasy.”

His hands are gentle, every stroke a healing caress, his lips sublime in the way they erase the marks of his crimes. It's delicate and just as primitive. How captivating it is to have a man curdle your blood and then soothe it back into relaxation, balming damage with comfort and tenderness.

“
What didn't you tell me about turning me? How will I know when you turn me?” I say; my voice swallowed into the drowsiness of my world.

“
It's already done, but you only get to own your power on full moon. The little condition will become evident soon enough.”

Then he halts all conversation by raping my mouth so fully, and in such a way with his fangs embedded in my bottom lip, that I can't withdraw. I'm left whimpering with the onset of overloading madness when he aims his need into me again.

He is selfish and punishing. The stupid part buried in my brain salivates with more desire at the challenge he poses, the mystery I have to unwrap and shred slowly until I discover his weakness.

At least I know he can't fuck me to death because I'm already immortal.

Holy smoke!
I'm immortal.

Like the angels
, whispers into my head with the caress of a lover being tender and kind.

He's a contradiction of unfettered temptation.

And I think I'm addicted.

The condition. How mysterious. I love the enigma of this riddle, of this vampyre man.

Jowendrhan sure is a nice surprise.

You have no idea... I have to be cruel to be kind.

When he bites into my leg I collapse and writhe over clean scented cotton, my soul is extracted with his ownership in the moment. The nirvana is so complete, so absolute, I lose focus and escape into the crescent ambiance of his internal light.

Ambrosia bubbles my blood and overrides the pain, rocking me so his odious essence codes my blood with his bittersweet stain.