Mate With Me

“I’m meeting up with a couple of friends later tonight down in the Quarter, but until then, I’m all yours.” Taking a seat at the small table, he looked her over with blatant male approval. “You look good, Abby. Seeing anyone?”

Abby laughed, delighted that he was still as straight forward as he had been when she last saw him over five years ago. Roger may not be as good looking as Damien, or as mouth-wateringly sexy, but he was here and, by the familiar look in his eyes, he was interested enough to soothe her bruised ego

“No. You?”

“Just ended a year-long relationship.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Abby felt as if she too had just ended a relationship even though she and Damien had never been a couple.

“Don’t be. We’re still friends even though she wanted more than I do at this time. I can’t believe you’re unattached. What’s wrong with the guys you’re hanging out with?” Grabbing her coffee, he took a sip with all the familiarity of an old friend then wrinkled his nose at the sweetness. “That hasn’t changed!”

Smiling, she took her cup back, broke off part of her beignet and handed it to him, thinking there was absolutely nothing wrong with the guy she’s been hanging out with. He was perfect for her. Problem was, Damien didn’t think so. “Same thing as you, apparently,” she answered him. “I want more than he does, which leaves us with nothing.”

“So,” Roger said as he once again eyed her with blatant male appreciation, “we’re both free. What a coincidence. I have a couple of hours with nothing to do, how about you? Care to indulge in some uncomplicated, rebound sex?”

His eyes held a teasing glint, one she remembered well. He may have made his suggestion in a light hearted, teasing manner, but he wouldn’t mind in the least if she took it seriously. There had been few men in her life, Roger being only one of three, and none in the past three years. Another coincidence, she thought wryly. Since the sudden appearance of the mark on her breast on her twenty-fifth birthday that matched Damien’s on his palm that he had born since she’s known him, she hadn’t been interested in sex with anyone but him. While her body wasn’t reacting to Roger’s nearness the way it did to Damien’s, his friendly flirtations reminded her of how much fun they used to have together, both in and out of bed. Right now, she needed a little fun to take her mind off of one stubborn vampire.

“You know, Roger, I just might take you up on that.”

Marie jumped at another unexpected sound, this one coming from the alley behind her apartment. Going to the window, she pushed the curtains aside and peered down into the darkened back street unable to see anything. After checkin

g the window lock for the third time, she headed downstairs to double check her front door again. She had been edgy ever since she had closed up her shop at seven and night had fallen. She had never been clairvoyant, but could always sense when something wasn’t right. Her neighborhood was quiet, far enough away from the Quarter not to be disturbed by the ongoing revelry, which made the noises she had been hearing for the past thirty minutes all the more suspiciously unnerving.

After reassuring herself the front door was still securely bolted, she peeked out the front window and saw nothing untoward on the deserted street. Still uneasy, she ran back upstairs to her bedroom and grabbed the small pistol Damien had given her years ago from her nightstand drawer. She had called him a few hours ago, as soon as she had felt the first stirrings of uneasiness, but he hadn’t got back to her yet. Even though she hadn’t heard from him all week, he always got back to her when she called. Returning to her parlor, she turned the television on low and picked up her phone, intending to try him again when the sound of breaking glass followed by eerie, malevolent laughter had her spinning around in fear. The two men bursting through the French doors from her small balcony didn’t seem to care about how much noise they were making or worry about her alarm that was peeling loudly throughout the house.

One look at their glowing red eyes, fangs gleaming from pulled back lips, filled her with cold terror and she knew neither the police nor Damien would get there in time to save her. Backing away from their shuffling advance, her heart lodged in her throat, she used her thumb to quickly press Damien’s number while shakily raising the gun and emptying it into both creatures.

Abrielle bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain as Roger’s seed threatened to burn the sensitive flesh of her vagina. Closing her eyes tightly, she held on to his perspiration slick shoulders as he pumped into her over and over, his orgasm filling her with anything but pleasure. It wasn’t his fault, she thought as the burn intensified. After making their way to the French Quarter and spending an hour in one of the more popular burlesque clubs, they had both been more than ready to go to his place and renew their physical relationship. But Abby knew as soon as they were skin to skin that this, he, wasn’t who she wanted or needed.

Even though he had done everything right, spent time trying to arouse her, silently complimenting her by remembering how much she liked her nipples suckled, how she loved being finger fucked with several fingers and how any ass play increased her excitement, she didn’t respond. She felt pleasure but not excitement, she grew aroused but not to the point of ecstasy and she shut down completely when he ejaculated and his come filling her sheath felt like a fiery blowtorch searing her walls.

“Shit, baby, you didn’t get off, did you?”

Abrielle breathed a sigh of relief as he rolled off of her, the withdrawal of his cock from her pussy making it difficult for her to control a shudder of respite. “It’s not your fault, Roger. I enjoyed that even though I didn’t climax,” she lied. There was no use trying to explain the pain when she didn’t understand it herself. Roger had been the only man she hadn’t insisted wear a condom and, after he had assured her he was clean and she had assured him she was still on the pill, she saw no reason to change that tonight. But she had never experienced such discomfort when he had ejaculated inside her before and the only thing that has changed since is the appearance of her mark, her physical connection with Damien.

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll make it up to you,” Roger said as he leaned over and drew her right nipple into his mouth.

Abby’s pussy clenched as he suckled her nipple and her hands automatically went to clutch his head to her breast. It felt good, the tingling pleasure in her nipple spreading south to elicit a warm gush of cream from her still sore pussy. But when his hand drifted down her waist to cup her damp flesh, the mind numbing pleasure she was seeking, that same body encompassing ecstasy she had experienced while lying bare assed over Damien’s lap, simply wasn’t there. Frustrated, angry and disappointed, she gently shifted away from Roger and slipped out of bed.

“I really need to get going, especially if you don’t want to be late meeting up with your friends.” She felt his eyes on her as she slipped her panties and bra back on and knew he was wondering about her lack of response, something that had never happened when they were together before.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Roger asked, not moving from the bed, enjoying the sight of her dressing even though it meant she was leaving.

With a sigh, she turned to face him as she buttoned up her blouse. There was no use denying it, they both had known each other too well in the past. “Yeah, it’s him. I’m sorry, Roger. I didn’t know…”

Holding up a hand, he stated quietly, “No need to explain, baby.” Rising, he walked to her, cupped her face and kissed her. “For the record, he’s a fool. It was good seeing you again, Abrielle.”

Abby let herself out after promising Roger she’d hail a cab even though her shop and loft apartment were only a few blocks away. But once she stepped out into the sultry night air, the urge to walk and clear her head had her taking off on foot instead of keeping her promise. Now that Mardi Gras was over, the streets were quieter, especially the residential areas. A glutton for punishment, she tried reaching Damien again, only to run into a wall of silence, making her think Roger had it wrong. She was the fool, not Damien.

She would just have to try harder to move on, she sternly told herself as she neared her corner. It did no good to pine over what she couldn’t have. The problem was, since Damien had entered her life that fateful night twenty years ago, there hadn’t been anything she wanted that she couldn’t have, and she wasn’t willing to settle for less now. Okay, maybe that did make her the spoiled brat the guys always teasingly called her, but she had no desire or intentions to change. Which meant she had to find a way to get Damien to change.

Determined to have it out with him again yet having no idea where to find him, Abrielle got in her car instead of going up to her apartment. The only thing she knew about how Damien spent his nights was that he and the others patrolled the most dangerous streets of New Orleans in order to keep them safe. However, there was one person who might know where she should start looking. Several years ago, while out partying with some college friends, she had spotted her guardian coming down the side staircase of an apartment above a popular voodoo shop. Curiosity had her visiting the shop the next day and she had been stunned when the proprietress had greeted her with, “You must be Damien’s Abby. Welcome to my shop.”

Her name was Marie; she was a beautiful, middle aged woman with a full figure and kind eyes that saw too much. Abby wanted to hate her, but simply couldn’t. She had been old enough to know this woman had an intimate relationship with her beloved guardian, but back then she had only felt a mild curiosity about that relationship. Now, she couldn’t repress the burning jealousy cramping her stomach at the thought of Damien and Marie together and didn’t know what she would do if she found him there tonight.

Parking in front of the darkened shop, she headed to the side stairs, her disappointing encounter with Roger fueling her anger and determination to find Damien, even if it meant rousing him from Marie’s bed. She winced at that thought, knew if Damien was up there, he wouldn’t appreciate her popping in, but she had come too far to back out now.

She was half way up the stairs when a blood curdling scream came from Marie’s apartment, a pain filled cry of terror that had Abby shoving aside her misgivings and running up the stairs as she struggled to get her phone out of her purse. Punching in 911, she held the phone to her ear as she pounded on the locked door in the hopes of stopping whatever was happening behind it.