Kindred (Kindred, Book 1) (33 page)

His clothing was covered in dust with small rips in his hip hugging black trousers, his black shirt had feared a little worse and hung in tatters here and there, showing his glowing cream skin and hints of rippling muscle. His beautiful dark hair was slightly messed, but it didn't detract from his beauty, just intensified it and his eyes blazed the most mesmerizing shades of purple; sparklingly amethyst, deeply magenta, striking violet and lush mauve.

He smelled of ozone and slightly burnt toast. I couldn't place it for a moment, and then remembered where I had smelt that combination of smells before, by the Ley Lines. He'd travelled here on the supernatural superhighway of a powerful and deadly Ley Line. He must have been in a hurry to choose that mode of transport, that was for sure.

He had such a look of longing on his face, that it stilled my breath. And then he growled, low and long, looking at where Bruno's hands were, at where he stood.

Bruno tensed even further, I hadn't thought that was possible, he had been so still and stiff already, and then in an instant he was gone. Out past Michel and into what was left of the night.

Michel's gaze hadn't softened, he still glowed like an electric light bulb, bright and clear and intense, but behind that light was a deep hunger, barely contained, straining to be unleashed. Before I even had the chance to consider inviting him in - which of course, I had no way of not doing, my longing for him at that moment just as strong as his - he simply stepped across my welcome mat and glided towards me. The door slowly closing in his wake.

The first thing I registered was his hand in my hair at the base of my head, his mouth on mine and his warmth crushing me as he pulled me to him. I didn't fight him, I simply wrapped myself around him, arms and legs and anything else I could manage, holding on for grim death. He carried me directly to my bedroom and lay me down softly on the bed. Touching me, stroking me, devouring me with his mouth, his tongue, his breath. He had my t-shirt off before I even noticed and proceeded to cover my upper body with his lips, nibbling, kissing, licking, murmuring. His movements weren't his usual languid stroking but a more fervent and hurried action, as though he was scared I would disappear on him and he needed to cover every inch of my body before I did.

I hazily realised that I had lost even more clothing, it should have concerned me that my clothes were disappearing at an alarming rate, but it didn't. I simply answered his movements with the frantic need of my own, unbuttoning what was left of his shirt and slipping it off to replace it with my kisses and touch. I couldn't get enough of him, I wanted it all. A heat had built inside me so quickly that it threatened to end everything before it had even begun. I gripped Michel's shoulders, digging my fingers in and vaguely heard someone who kind of sounded like me, whimpering and pleading to not stop, to go faster. I felt the cool air against the skin of my thighs, the softness of his naked flesh against the heat at the core of me and then just as quickly his hard length entering in a rush. I called out in surprise and then hunger, he didn't pause but proceeded to pump me with an urgency I had not ever believed could exist.

Within seconds I was airborne on a wave of pure bliss, his movements so strong, so powerful, my body shook from the invasion but clung to him with desire and need. I found myself giving direction in hurried, panting breaths;
faster
,
harder
,
longer
, all tumbling out and being met by his moans and whimpers and cries. Finally we crested the wave and I called out his name in a beautiful mix of colour and heat and tingling sensation that started at my centre and streamed out through every particle of my being, ringing in my ears and thundering through my pulse.

He collapsed against me, his breathing ragged and uneven, his sweat mixing with mine, his breath against my neck. For a while neither of us moved, just languished in the afterglow, then he started stroking my arms, across my stomach, hips and side. I tensed slightly when he grazed my side, where I had been hurt and he moved his attention there, running his fingers delicately across the cut and bruises, followed by his kisses, so light and tender.

“I can heal this,
ma douce
, but you must let me in to do so.” His voice was so husky, thick and low. It was the first time he had really talked, other than murmured words of passion and need. I relished the sound of that voice, letting it flow over me and ignite yet another fire within.

I took a deep breath and winced, realising I was actually still quite sore, amazingly having not felt a thing during our love making until now. I managed a nod and then let my shields down to let his
Sanguis Vitam
in. Immediately I felt the tingle that preceded a healing, felt the rush as it covered my body taking away the aches and pain and tiredness. When he finally lifted his head to look in my eyes, I was floating on a cloud of pure joy, unable to form a coherent sentence at all.

He smiled softly, his eyes still glowing with dancing lights of blue and purple, then his faced sobered slightly. “You had me worried,
ma douce
, I could feel your fear, your helplessness, yet I could not help you. It crushed me inside.”

I didn't think he was being melodramatic, I could see the pain in his eyes, and I knew that if he had received my emotions when I had been Dream Walking, then he would have felt everything I did, probably even amplified.

“I didn't mean to distract you. I could have caused your death. All I knew was, when I could sense what was happening, nothing could have stopped me from being at your side. Nothing. And then, I saw you falter and I saw Max take advantage of it. The last thing I saw before Nero turned up, was Max going in for the kill.”

“
Who is Nero?” His voice was even, although light, as though he was trying to show he really wasn't that interested, but I knew otherwise.

“
He's a friend. Another Nosferatin who can Dream Walk.”

“
Dream Walk?” Again with the even but light voice.

“
He wasn't really there, he appeared like I do and saved my life.”

Michel took a sharp breath in. “I could not see him, sense him. I did not know he was there.” I don't think Michel liked that idea, that there had been an unknown phantom helping me when he could not.

“Why do you think he came?” OK, I was starting to get a little concerned now at that even and light tone, not to mention the slight glow that now shone from his amethyst and violet eyes.

“
I don't know, he just appeared right when I thought I was done for. Right when I realised I'd just signed your death warrant.”

He softened at that, his whole body relaxing from his face, to his breathing, to his firm but still hold of my side. He started stoking my hip, his thumb running circles along its edge, “
Ma douce
, I would not have let that happen. I had already mortally wounded Maximilian, I was simply waiting for the right moment to strike the final blow.”

Now, I'm not sure if that was the entire truth, Michel was quite capable of lying to me and part of me thought that perhaps he didn't want me putting too much stock in Nero being my saviour, that he himself would have been able to end it all and set me free. On the other hand, this is Michel and even now after everything I had seen, I could not believe that he wouldn't have been able to overcome Max and save the day. He just had that presence about him, he always had.

He pulled me closer, wrapping his arms about me and covering us with the simple flick of his wrist, making the coverlet encase us in its warmth. He nuzzled in and kissed my neck, over the spot he had bitten me when we joined. It was as if he knew exactly how to find it, like it called to him.

“
It is over,
ma douce
, you are safe. We are together, as we should be. Nothing can hurt you now.” I kind of got the impression he was saying that as much to himself as he was to me, as though he needed that reassurance too.

“
Of course, I am interested in how Bruno did not stop you from sleeping. Care to enlighten me how one of my own could refuse a direct command?” His voice was even, soft, he had started kissing me again. Was it to distract me from his true emotion to that question? I didn't know, all I knew was it was doing a damn fine job of it. Part of me registering that this could be very bad for Bruno, but unable to hide the answer from Michel at all. And really, what would be the point, he'd figure it out eventually anyway, by simply reading Bruno's mind.

“
It seems I can glaze vampires now.”

There's really no easy way to say that to a vampire, is there? It's going to be a shock. How could it not be? They have lived millennia without having to suffer the indignity of another's influence. Sure, they have to obey the commands of their master, even if it means they would die, that's gotta suck. But no-one, or no thing, that simply passes them on the street, could have that sort of control over them, could invade their minds. To a vampire his ability to glaze humans is his crutch. How do you think they managed to feed in days gone by where consent wasn't even an option? It's not like they could bully a victim or kill every one they fed off, it would have led to their discovery in short time. So, they used their influence. And no matter which way you look at it, finding out a human and a Nosferatin who could kill them at that, has their sacred talent to glaze too, would not be welcome.

So, it did kind of surprise me that Michel didn't even stiffen, no short intake of breath, no power level flicker, no eyes glowing a different shade of blue or purple, not even a raised blood vessel in his beautiful face. He just kept layering light and delicate kisses along my neck. Oh, he was good all right.

“
Interesting,” he murmured, in between a few more kisses. Was that
the
understatement of the century, or not? “Two of your powers before your 25
th
birthday. It seems you really are an enigma, my dear.”

I'd had enough of the Mr Cool attitude, so I cupped his face with both my hands and raised it up in front of me to look him in the eyes. He didn't blanch, even though it must have occurred to him by making eye contact with me now, I could have tried to glaze. He either trusted me, or much more likely, was showing no fear. Gotta love that
show no fear
rule.

“
You're hiding your true feelings to this, Michel. I can't read your emotions, like you can mine. Help me out here. Is this going to be a problem?”

His hand reached up to run the length of my face, softly stroking right down to my jaw. “Nothing you could ever be capable of doing could be a problem,
ma douce
. I always knew you were different from your kind, your potential unsurpassed by any other. I knew it the moment I saw you. Does it surprise me? No. Am I concerned you will it use it on me? Perhaps. Although we are joined and I would assume you cannot.”

That was a turn up for the books. I had asked if this was a problem, but I hadn't really expected to get a straight answer, not really.

“Will it stop me loving you? Never.”

Now, you may think I would have been prepared for that statement. I mean, I hadn't put into words what I felt for Michel yet, but I knew it was strong. Part of me believed the connection and attraction we had was all down to the joining, being his kindred Nosferatin and all. But I was also aware that I could not live without Michel in my life and that was not a new emotion. I had felt that way before we even started dancing this dangerous, but delicious, dance. I was also acutely aware that it was just words and Michel is nothing, if not a good talker. He could talk his way out of a paper bag if he had to.

So, I didn't react to his declaration of loving me, I just nodded, kissed his forehead and rolled over to sleep. See? I can show no fear too when needed.

Michel paused, ever so slightly, anyone else probably wouldn't have picked it up, but I knew him pretty well by now. So, not always good at hiding his feelings then. But he recovered quickly and started kissing the back of my neck, my shoulder, my back and murmuring the odd word or two. It had been a long night and I was tired through, I felt my eyelids droop slightly, despite me wanting to stay awake and listen to Michel's soft and low voice forever, feel it wrap around me and savour the sensation it aroused inside my soul. But I couldn't fight it, not in the warmth created by the blankets, by his body against the length of mine, by his breath brushing my neck. Before I even realised it, I had drifted of to sleep, so safe, so warm, as Michel softly stroked my side and kissed the curve of my neck, murmuring in a soft, slow string of French I didn't completely understand.

I woke to sun streaming in the windows, the curtains hadn't been closed at all. I panicked slightly that Michel might be lying in the sun, but when I reached out, the bed was, disappointingly, empty next to me. I rolled over and groaned, reaching for the pillow and the smell of him there. I felt something fall against my face as I pulled the pillow towards me and opened my eyes to see a single perfect red rose resting on the bed. I allowed myself a smile, this one I think I'll keep.

I felt surprisingly rejuvenated, flushed with a healthy glow, like my batteries had been recharged and my soul filled with happiness it almost overflowed. I could get used to this feeling, if this is what it meant to be joined to a Nosferatu, then it wasn't half bad. I had just come out of the bedroom, after showering and getting dressed, when I sensed someone was in my home. I had grabbed the knife resting on my computer desk, just inside the door to my room, before my eyes had even rested on the visitor.