His Captive Mortal (A Vampire Romance)

But no.

Damn fairy’s in my blood, and even though I crave her, I won’t take her against her will—not even if I were capable of getting off. I want Aurelia to want me. Correction: I want her to need me with the same lust burning under my skin. Hell, I want her to beg me. I want her weight on my lap and her shrieks cracking the windows. I want my name on her lips and her nails scratching furrows down my back. But only if she’s willing.

I want to win not just her obedience but her submission, her desire...her heart.

I still in a puddle of moonlight. Her heart? Seriously? Since when did I become a teenage sap in a vampire movie? I could give a fuck about love. Look how well it worked out for me last time. Once cursed, twice shy. If a hundred year old curse isn’t enough to break me of falling in love, I deserve my current hell.

I pass an all night diner full of people getting their dinner. I need my own dinner—I haven’t fed since finding Aurelia. Not smart to do it in Lucius’ territory, but surely a little sip from a random girl won’t give me away. But my stomach turns at the thought of holding any human but Aurelia. When I pass a few tasty morsels, my fangs lie dormant.

Stupid. Why am I acting like a mated vampire who will only take blood from his lover? Aurelia will never consent to let me feed from her.

Still, I end up tracing back to her apartment and crawling into bed beside her, staring at the golden glow of her skin in the lamplight. I brush her thick hair away from her face, studying her sleeping form. She has a heart-shaped face, with high cheekbones and a small nose. Delicate but not fragile. Beautiful in a healthy, outdoorsy way.

Her brows furrow, and her legs twitch like she is running. A nightmare, perhaps. She lets out a whimpering cry, and I can’t stand it any longer. I pull her into my arms without thinking.

“Shh, love. It’s just a dream,” I murmur.

She stirs, her eyes blinking open. “Charlie,” she sighs, still half asleep. “I’m glad you’re here. You’re always here when I need you.” Her eyes close again, and her breathing deepens.

What was that about? No use asking. I doubt she’ll remember any of it in the morning. Even though she sleeps peacefully now, I don’t release her, reluctant to put any distance between our bodies. Her soft form nestles so sweetly against mine, her champagne smell soothing. Her presence makes my spirit lighter. Fae are special creatures, but this is all Aurelia.

With my Tinkerbell nestled in my arms, I drift off to sleep. But instead of dreaming of my sweet mortal, I find myself on the narrow shadowy streets of Paris, on errand for Anka. The scent of blood rises off my clothes. I’ve just killed a man, drained him, and now I’m returning to my lover’s bordello for a reward.

One second, I’m in a stinking alley, then next, I’m in a lush and perfumed bedchamber. I carry the scent of the dead man’s blood—but Anka won’t mind. She loves the stench of death.

“Sweet vampire,” Anka says, stroking my face. “I can always count on you, can’t I?” She lets down her thick hair, the dark mass falling from the curls pinned on the crown of her head. She allows her robe to drop, displaying her magnificent body, clad only in a corset and stockings.

I growl and flash to my knees before her, releasing the garters and peeling down the silk. She runs her fingers through my hair, guiding my mouth to her sex. “I save it only for you,” she tells me. Even in the dream, I hear the lie. But I pretend not to.

I pleasure her to climax then lift her to stand with my mouth still at her cunt. Carrying her to the bed, I lay her down, free my cock and plunge into her warmth. I stroke deep into her pussy as my fangs seek her neck.

“Charlie,” she moans. She’s writhing, wild. Her hands are claws, tearing at my body.

“Charlie...Charlie! Char-lie!”

The golden scent slaps me in the face. I open my eyes to find Aurelia struggling beneath me, screaming in terror. My fangs are at her neck, and she is pushing my face away with the heel of her hand. The gyrations of her hips aren’t sexual but panicked.

I jerk back, lifting my weight onto my hands and blinking my eyes into focus.

“Oh thank God,” she cries, nearly in tears. She pushes at my shoulders, trying to scramble out from under me.

My cock is thick and hard, but I’m still clothed. My hips hover over hers. I’d been grinding against her, about to take her vein.