My love has no need to wait and recover like a human man. He remains hard as he pulls me up to my feet by my hair, then spins me around to face the window. With one hand wrapped about my throat and the other between my thighs, teasing my clit, he enters me with one smooth, deep thrust.
“My love,” I gasp, reveling in every marvelous inch of him. I can already feel my next orgasm building.
He lifts his hand, and the ritual dagger we use flies from the bedside table to his palm. He rests the flat of the cold, curved blade against my skin, fucking me deep and hard slow. “Are you thirsty, my queen?”
In the reflection of the glass, I see the pinpricks of fire in my eyes flare. “Give it to me.”
Gaderel lets out a low chuckle. “Not until you come. I want your sweet. Wet. Tight. Hot. Pussy. To come all over my cock.”
He punctuates his words with hard thrusts, and I shatter with a scream. Waves and pulses of electric pleasure rush through me, causing my knees to wobble and my back to bow. Were it not for his strong arms, I would collapse from the rapture of it all.
Gaderel guides me to the bed. I push him down and straddle his hips, then sink onto his diamond-hard cock. He lets out a deep moan, jaw clenching as I pull him deep into my snug, soaking-wet depths.
He presses the knife into my palm. “Take what you want from me, Sazahn. Quench your thirst.”
The blood magic to infuse me with his powers, both physical and supernatural, works most potently when we are joined and lost to the throes of ecstasy. He used to do the cutting; now I do it, slicing across his chest, creating a two-inch gash.
His blood flows, and I lower my mouth to it eagerly. It’s not the coppery tangy blood of humans; it’s thicker, rich like wine, and almost sweet. Almost immediately, I go lightheaded, and then the rush of indescribable bliss overcomes me.
Maybe I’m an addict. But instead of a drug making me weaker, his blood makes me stronger. Better.
Afterward, when I’ve drunk my fill and Gaderel has healed himself, we cuddle in bed, drowsy and satisfied. He plays with my hair as we listen to the rain start to fall.
“Have you spoken to your sister lately?” he asks.
I sigh at the mention of Cynthia. I haven’t seen her since her birthday lunch, though I’ve talked to her a few times. The first was when I returned her dozens of hysterical voicemails and texts following the shooting at the club. I assured her I had escaped but was devastated by the loss of my friends and needed some time to myself. Both true, to a certain degree, but I couldn’t face her yet, because at that time, I didn’t know how to control the flames in my eyes, and I didn’t want her to grow suspicious of me wearing sunglasses around her all the time.
“Yes. She called a couple of days ago. She told me she went by my old place and I wasn’t there. I told her I’ve been spending as much time as possible away from there.”
What I didn’t tell her was that I don’t live there at all anymore, and if she had gone inside, she would have found it completely empty. I don’t think she’s ready to hear about my lover, whose home I moved into right away.
Gaderel runs his fingers through my hair. “You cannot ignore her forever, my love. She is your sister. She loves you, and she is very worried about you.”
“I’ve been a little busy with training,” I say.
Since returning from our special, otherworldly paradise, Gaderel has been strengthening me with his blood and training me physically. I have learned to fight proficiently, and can make a weapon out of just about anything. I took a special interest in knives and swordplay, however; our first night together might have had something to do with that. With my supercharged strength and agility combined with his superior training, I have become a dangerous assailant. A predator, even, though there’s only one prey I’m after.
Attending the funerals of my loved ones only strengthened my resolve to go through with their vengeance. And every time I falter, only two things bring me back on track: Gaderel’s support and encouragement, and the visceral memories of that night. Every single second is imprinted into my brain, on my soul. Time will not render those memories blurry or patchy. I remember every mark of violence on Cue’s body, how her face looked covered in blood with her fixed, unseeing gaze. I remember the murder of my sweet Jammy, the wild I hope I felt that they might escape the instant before they were gunned down.
Most of all, I remember the shock and fear of the rifle being pointed at me. There are no words to describe that moment; no words to describe the weight of the realization that my life was over.
Then there was an explosion, followed by pain. Searing agony. Then blackness.
The only thing that isn’t clear is what followed the blackness. I have a dim memory of glowing white light surrounding me, incandescently bright but not painful to look at. There was warmth. A feeling of…comfort. An even stranger feeling of being back where I belonged.
A kind voice, whispering my name, followed by an outstretched hand.
I remember reaching for the hand…and then waking up with a gasp in a tent on a soft white beach, with warm, salt-tinged balmy air all around me. Waking up beside the stranger who brought me back to life.
Who gave me life.
And a purpose.
“You must see her,” he insists gently. “She has always been good to you.”
His words bring on a surge of guilt. I lift my head from his chest to gaze into his eyes. Now I can control the flames, but I never do so around Gaderel. With him, I can be who I truly am. Whatever that is.
“Do you want to meet her?” I ask.