Authors: a.c. Mason
"Yes, my blood,” she said with a nod. “I know you're anxious about it, but maybe if you sucked my clit while you..."
At the thought, his fangs elongated. He swallowed. When he'd lain in bed and imagined touching and drinking from her, this possibility hadn't even entered his mind.
The moonlight shone in her dark eyes, creating seductive haloes.
"It seems like the most intimate place for such an exchange,” she said. “I want it to be like that with you. Special."
What if he couldn't stop himself once the feeding began? Maybe her request was one he should refuse.
Sephora lay with her arms wrapped around Kieran. Once more, he appeared to ponder her request. Every inch of her body burned with the heat of his caresses. After what had happened to her, she had feared that being touched by a man could never really feel right. Kieran's touch was natural. Not like Matt or Alec's. It was strange how she could think of them now and yet be so distant from the pain.
"
Mo lon dubh,
stay with me.” He rubbed her forehead with his lips and kissed it.
What did he mean when he said
stay with him
? Given his condition of being a vampire, maybe he could read her thoughts. Movies, TV and books suggested it could be so. If he knew what she'd been through it would be horrible. Wouldn't he think she was weak?
"I'm here.” She squeezed him tight. The coolness of him felt wonderful. In his arms was the only place she ever wanted to be. That was a strange thought to have while in the arms of a man she hardly knew and who was some type of unnatural creature. And he was about to become a man of the cloth. She'd never heard of a vampire becoming a priest but she had very little knowledge about Catholic beliefs. Maybe they had relaxed the rules. Doubtful, though. No way would she be the one to lure him from his faith. It was tonight only, and for his own good, she'd have to set him free.
"Your intense black eyes drift off into vacancy, and I fear I've lost you.” His accent was maddening. Hints of the best scents of Ireland surrounded her: the river, cool mornings and him.
"I'm yours as long as you'll have me.” Why had she told him that when she knew all there could be was tonight? She twirled her fingers in the hairs by his naval.
"Tell me that your words are true.” He tugged her closer. “That you do not give me false hope."
She hadn't had much hope until he'd entered her life. “They are true.” Her words were the only things she knew for sure. “I'm not one for hope, only facts.” As long as he'd have her, she was his, which was until dawn.
"Then I shall attempt to fulfill your request of me,” he said.
A thrill shot to her clit. Her lover appeared to need this encounter to have a deeper meaning too, but he could never know the gift he was giving her, restoring her inside.
He rose from the bed and knelt next to the edge. “Sit up for me with your legs over the side."
She did as instructed, and he removed her shoes then her socks.
"Ay, like that.” His gaze lingered on her sex and his lips curled up on one side in a quirky smile.
Her curls gleamed from their earlier exchange. He slid between her thighs. Lines of scars created a grid pattern on the top of her leg. She hoped he'd never know the hateful word, the racial slur she hid beneath the painful design. Not one that should ever be seen or spoken. Especially not a word anyone should be forced to wear on their body. He reached for her shirt, and she shifted away from him. She covered his hands with her own.
The scent of blood wove through the air round Kieran. Fear filled her eyes as she met his gaze. The tightening of his chest was new, discomforting.
"What don't you want me to see?” He was about to do the one thing he'd promised himself never to do. Taste a human's blood. If she could not show him her entire body ... then could this encounter hold the same meaning for her as it did for him?
She released his hands. “I've hurt myself."
"Don't we all in one form or another? I'm what lurks in the dark of night. Nothing you've done can scare me off.” He rolled her shirt up.
She hesitantly lifted her arms.
He tugged the fabric off and tossed it to the side. The underside of her forearm was raw with fresh cuts. Blood glazed the area in a sticky film.
Perhaps not scare him off, but deepen his concern for her, yes. “Does it hurt?"
"A good pain.” She nodded. “The kind that reminds me I'm alive."
She did live, and had a life ahead of her. Nothing he shared with her tonight would he allow to tamper with that truth.
He didn't know what he was any more. And he would soon be dead. Yet the wounds she'd inflicted didn't disgust him, but reminded him of those who inflicted the stigmata on themselves. A way of feeling closer to God. She needed to connect with her own body. He trailed a path with his lips along the marks and kissed them.
"You aren't appalled?” The uncertainty in her voice touched a protective side of him.
"I tell you that I am a creature that feeds on the blood inside you and you do not fear me, but you believe I would be revolted by your self-inflicted wounds?” Should he be offended she thought him that hypocritical? “A practice that has gone on for thousands of years.” He didn't approve but he knew that she would only stop once the wounds inside her were healed too.
"When put in those terms, it does seem strange for me to fear your judgment of my behavior,” she said. “I shall never be afraid of what you think of me as you should never worry about my opinion of you."
Those were bold statements to make, but she was the only person from whom he'd ever consider them as truth. “And what do you make of me?"
"You are the kindest person I've ever met.” She smiled and hugged him.
Her arms around him felt like the one thing he'd been missing, but had never known he'd needed. That was the type of man he'd always wanted to be. Now, he was a fiend.
"I want to try tasting you the way you've asked me to. I'd like to see if I can control the urge before I drink from between your legs. A reward for us both. May I work toward that request?"
She nodded.
He smelled her juices more strongly now. Perhaps she was excited by his frank expression of his desire to drink from her lower lips, or possibly, the care he took in ensuring in doing so, he didn't get out of control. Hopefully both.
She turned over her forearm. The metallic sweetness of her rose into the air, filling his lungs with all that was her.
Lifting her arm to his mouth, he parted his lips, and his fangs elongated. “Tell me if you feel pain."
"Mmm hum,” she breathed.
He lowered his teeth's points into the slices in her arm. Blood collected in his mouth. Ancient primal need clutched him, attempting to take control. He tensed against the urge and swallowed back the taste of her. Sweet and metallic, her liquid moved deep into a bottomless pit inside him. He withdrew his fangs and licked the ridges of the gashes littering her forearm.
She quivered in his arms while rocking her hips against his bare abdomen. Behind the passage of his tongue, the cuts in her flesh closed.
He could heal with his mouth, even injuries he'd not caused. “There was no pain for you?"
"None. Only bliss.” She shivered.
His bite had made her feel that way. Could it really be that bad if it was so wonderful? Of course it could be.
"Lie back.” He gestured for her to recline on the bed.
She lay down, propped up on her elbows with her gaze intently fixed on him.
He had tonight. Tomorrow his world would end. Today she was his everything, the eighth wonder of the world created by merciful God. He kissed the inside of her leg, working his way to her center with his mouth.
Moonlight shone on her skin, lighting her in a warm glow. Again he breathed in the sweet scent of her arousal and parted her labia. The moist sound of her folds increased his own need. He angled her bottom to raise her sex and provide him the best access for her request. A tingle surged through his fangs at what would come next. He pressed his mouth to her slick sheath. Sailing up to her clit, he parted his lips and pressed his fanged teeth into the tender silky skin.
She grabbed his head and held on.
Moisture gushed, coating the flesh of her sex. Then he released and her blood flowed to the opening of her canal. He suckled her nub, drinking the celestial elixir of her.
"Kieran, please don't stop,” she pled in a raw tone. She bucked her sex toward him.
He suckled the juices and her blood into his mouth, the mixture enslaving him with a need for her. Was this not heaven? Nothing beyond the complete joy of what he shared with this heavenly creature existed.
She wiggled and whimpered. “Yes, Kieran.” Her moans bounced off the walls in the small space. “Like that."
Compared to her in his arms trusting him with her desire, showing him the bliss of the infinite knowledge between a man and woman, everything else was inconsequential. Other than the joy of this moment with her, his life had been empty.
The nub beneath his tongue thumped.
Her fingers twined in his hair. She tugged him to her as though she believed his body could pass though her own. Slick heat flowed to his chin from deep inside her. He dipped down to savor her, then back up to the pulsating bead.
"Kieran,” she cried out, and jerked and thrashed. Tears slid from her closed eyelids.
Kieran slowed his tasting of her pleasure, then kissed and withdrew from her thundering flesh. It would be a peaceful life for him at her side. She provided him with a sense of contentment.
He pulled her to his body. “
B'fheidir go raibh se ar mo sciathan bhi briste sin agus ata tu ata socraithe
.” Maybe it was my wing that was broken, and you've fixed it. With his fingertips, he brushed curls from her face.
She kissed him and took his lips into her mouth. “Mmm."
"Tell me about it,
mo lon dubh
. You are delicious."
He pushed his tongue into her mouth and swirled it against hers. His body was ready to unite with hers. The stiff need in his pants ached to explore her lower lips.
"What does, mooh lo-n dub mean?” She pressed her cheek to his.
The warmth of her danced along his skin and since he'd changed, he'd known only a chill to the bone. She offered him fire, the kind of flame that scorched through to his heart. What if she did not comprehend his meaning and took it somehow as something it wasn't? He could lose her. Unlike the song or St. Kevin, he'd been the one waiting for this moment to arrive. Not her. There was no way he could allow her to slip away.
Sephora pulled back. The expression on his face had taken on a serious edge. Could the words be a put down or some kind of racially degrading term? Before what had happened to her, she never would have jumped to that conclusion, but now she always went straight there first. Alec and Matt had done this to her. Their hate continued to poison her.
"Please don't drift away from me.” He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut then reopened them. “It's Gaelic. The first time I saw you on the bridge there was something deeply sad and wounded about you that drew me to you."
Just what every girl wanted to know, that a man's interest was because of pity. She pushed his chest. He felt sorry for her. It couldn't be any more embarrassing.
He didn't move. “Please let me finish."
Tears burned her eyes. “Go ... leave.” How could he want her when, to him, she was weak? After everything she had been through, she saw herself as anything but. It had taken her two years to believe that.
"Sephora,” he said, pleading. “Not until you hear me out."
She pulled the covers over her body, unable to stand him seeing her naked when he thought so little of her. “Be quick, then.” She felt so exposed.
"Do you know the Beatles’ song
Blackbird
? It was like you were there singing to me, calling to me. But I didn't know then that what I saw in you was what I felt inside me. I was the one with the broken wing. You are strong and proud. Not afraid, as I have been. That night, I nicknamed you my blackbird,
mo lon dubh
. Graceful and beautiful, there you were—mesmerizing me—seducing me. I hadn't even known your name meant beautiful bird that day, but I knew I'd never forget you. Every time I've played the Gaelic version of the Beatle's song since, I've felt connected to you, as though the distance between us vanished."
How could she have been so wrong, jumping to think the worst of him? He'd only been kind and loving to her. Matt and Alec still had their hooks in her, making her unable to trust in the goodness of men, and now she always assumed the worst of any man. How would she ever purge herself of them? With Kieran. He'd fill her with goodness—by giving her all of himself.
"You were right about me.” The fear of being exposed melted away. She wanted to be seen for what she truly was: a survivor. “My wing was clipped, but I refuse to let it remain that way. I want to be a whole woman again."
"You are more woman than any I've ever met.” He reached for her hand.
She didn't resist him. She couldn't. He was pulling her so far into him that she wasn't sure which direction was up anymore. Nor did she care to find her way out.
"Do you still wish for me to go?” His voice strained with hurt. There was something strong about his boldness to ask her, yet vulnerable. He didn't hide. Perhaps it was his innocence. Was she about to take the best part of him?
Maybe she was. Was she selfish for not wanting to stop? “No.” She knew that in his arms, the pain rotting her from the inside melted into pleasure.
"Should I not call you
mo lon dubh
?” Damn, he was sexy when he said that. His brogue seemed to thicken. “I would never do so if you felt it in any way made you feel less than the powerful, majestic, heavenly woman I see before me."
His words caused her to smile. “It makes me feel special, strong and protected. I don't wish for you to withhold your natural expressiveness with me. It's one of the reasons I feel so drawn to you.” The power he restrained beneath his calm demeanor revealed an unearthly strength of will.