Burning Skies

She lay back down and looked up at him. “Let’s do this, Warrior. I don’t know the why of it, but I’m yours.”

He groaned. He bent low and guided himself to her opening. “God, you’re so wet.”

“What else would I be?” How strange that tears rose to her eyes then slipped down the sides of her face into her hair. His gaze was fixed on her lower body as he watched his cock enter her in a series of slow firm pushes.

Her breaths came slowly and with difficulty. Marcus was big and each push was a little uncomfortable and yet like heaven at the same time as her body stretched to accommodate him. With each push tears rolled inexplicably, as though every moment of her life, even from the time she had stood at Eric’s graveside, had been leading to this time with Marcus.

She had never thought to take a Warrior of the Blood to her bed. Yet here she was, with her inadequate powers, her dislike of his two-hundred-year absence from service, and her flaming, oh-so-irritating breh-hedden desire.

Once inside, he leaned over her, holding himself up by his arms. With a solid push, he rocked into her.

“We’re joined,” he said, again looking down at where they were connected.

“Yes.”

He met her gaze, his longish hair falling forward on either side of his face. The ends curled under slightly. His hair moved in waves as he flexed his buttocks and pushed into her again and again.

She was grateful he didn’t rush. This time with him seemed oddly precious, probably in part because there was no commitment on either side to take this farther than a few days.

He shifted his weight to the left and supported himself on one arm. With his right hand now free, he drifted a finger over her face, down her cheek, her chin, her throat. He pushed her hair away from her neck.

“I want what was stolen from me,” he said, his voice a hard rasp. “But I don’t want to upset you.”

She felt his tension, his holding back on her behalf, because of what she’d just gone through.

She touched his face, and his gaze skated to hers. “You smell like licorice,” she whispered. He groaned. His eyes had a wild look. He craved just as she craved. He needed what she had to give. She could no more have denied him in this moment than she could have left this bed.

She reached up and stroked his cheek with her hand. “I want you to take my blood,” she said. She arched her neck away from him. “Make new memories for me.”

Only a vampire would understand the presentation of the throat. She heard his sharp intake of breath. Using his forefinger, he stroked her neck in a long slow line just over her vein. Her heart rate increased since she knew what was coming, what he craved and what she craved for him to do. She wanted his mouth on her so that she might forget what had been done to her without permission.

He dipped down and kissed her neck then moaned and rocked into her, giving her a sharp thrust from his hips that made her cry out. You fill me, she sent.

He growled and thrust harder.

Her moans rose to the ceiling. The butterflies overhead moved as Marcus’s hips disturbed the air beneath them.

The sensation over her tender flesh at the apex of her labia tingled anew and she ground against the thrust of his hips. He hissed between his teeth. He kissed her neck over and over.

“I want to taste you. May I drink from you, Havily? Do I have your permission?” His voice was low and resonant, thick with need and desire.

She clenched and on a heavy release of breath said, “Yes. Please. Yes. Now. Do it.” She had lost the ability to form sentences.

He leaned toward her slowly, all the while his hips pushing and pushing, her body contracting around his cock, pulling him deeper inside.

Her hands crept around his waist, drifting up his back, and with spread fingers she positioned her hands between row after row of wing-locks. He groaned at the touch.

His tongue hit her neck and rasped a long glide over her vein. He repeated until her breath came in pants. She hadn’t felt the sting of fangs, while in the midst of lovemaking, for fifteen years. She wanted the sting. She knew exactly where the corresponding sensation would strike, and her internal muscles clenched over and over in sweet anticipation.

“You’re so ready for me,” he whispered. She felt the tips of his fangs poised now, the barest pressure. “But I worry. Will this bring back memories?”

“Not the same thing at all. Marcus, you are the only vampire in this room right now. I want you to trust me in this. So please don’t wait. Do it!”

He made a quick strike, to exactly the right depth. She cried out as her tender flesh responded in a sliding streak of pleasure so profound that as he began to draw at her vein and blood left her body, the first orgasm rode over her like galloping horses. Pleasure moved up and up through her core until she clenched around him repeatedly and screamed at the ceiling.

Honeysuckle, he sent, his voice inside her head enhancing the rolling tugging sensations. You’re coming.

All that fennel. Oh, God. I’m coming. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.

A sharp grunt returned. She could feel Marcus tense. Was he ready to join her? So soon? She protested the thought. She wanted more of this, more of him, more of his body. Oh, just more.

* * *

Marcus lost part of his consciousness as Havily’s honeysuckle blood hit his stomach and propelled into his bloodstream. Over the course of his four millennia, he had taken the veins of mortals and ascenders alike, but it had never, never, never been like this.

Havily Morgan had power in her blood, a stream of liquid fire that scorched his veins as the miracle of absorption took place deep within his belly.

He knew he was pumping into her as he sucked at her neck. He could feel her writhing body beneath him, but for the most part he felt the fire in his body as her blood began to seep into his muscles. Strength began to build, grow, enlarge every part of him.

Marcus, what’s happening, pierced the dullness of his mind.

Not sure.

You feel … bigger … everywhere. She arched her back, which caused her hips to pull back and pull away from his cock … which was bigger. Holy shit.

He opened his eyes and though he didn’t want to, he drew back from her vein. She was worried, surprised. “What’s happening?” she asked again.

A new wave of power hit him. He threw back his head, arched, and gasped for air. He didn’t know how much more he could take.

His body was in a frenzy as his hips moved in hard rapid thrusts. The orgasm caught him by surprise as though coming from his body with a life of its own.

Havily’s ecstasy arrived again at the same time because he could feel her hands stroking his pecs and shoulders and he could hear her screams but all he could feel was the pleasure that kept riding his shaft, coming and coming and coming, jets of liquid fire and pleasure and so much sensation he couldn’t stop.

He just hoped to hell he wasn’t hurting her.

* * *

Havily writhed under the muscular warrior body. Ecstasy had her trapped all over again, her body flailing beneath his, her feminine well clutching at the hard swollen member. She could feel his masculine orgasmic pulses and they just kept coming as though he couldn’t stop and she didn’t want him to because the pleasure she felt was indescribable. She felt as though she was drinking his essence into her body, absorbing, and with each pump of his hips, she took more in.

She knew she was moaning, screaming, crying out, but she couldn’t quiet her voice.

Then, as if in a dream, she flew into that nether place, that in-between place that darkened all around the edges and … Marcus was with her.

“What the fuck?” His movements slowed but he panted over her neck. “What is this place? Oh, God.” He grunted and groaned, his hips still rolling over hers. “It’s never been like this before and now we’re here, in that place again. Oh, God, Havily.” He fell on her, weakened it would seem by the string of climaxes that had taken him.

She held him, her body shuddering beneath his.

She was breathing hard, her arms around his neck. She dragged her fingers over his back. He smelled so good, but what the hell had happened and where were they … again?

“It’s like the dreams,” she said, looking around wondering when her body would quiet. She still felt him inside her, swollen, erect. “Only this time it looks like my bed, not yours.” She released another heavy sigh, still trying to catch her breath. “A line of darkness creates a border just as it did in your bed. Do you see it?”

He nodded and then he moved, one slow rhythm, a push in and pull partway out. The sensation, still mingling with her last orgasm, made her eyes roll in her head. The next moment his lips were on hers, a soft gentle kiss. His words eased over her mind: I have never felt like this before, Havily. I need you to know that.

Havily was overwhelmed. Nor I, she sent.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue filling her mouth, his hips still pushing and retreating, his cock still thick. His back where she touched him was slick with sweat. All the sensations reminded her of the past, the very best of her marriage so many decades ago, then later of her engagement to Eric. Now … Marcus.

Tender feelings rolled through her. She breathed in a long breath, her heart swelling. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way, but she did. “Marcus,” she murmured softly.

He nuzzled her neck, kissing her, suckling her skin. “Honeysuckle,” he whispered. “I can’t get enough.” Again he pushed into her, and desire flowed in a beautiful wave until she was gasping and he was moving into her harder now.

“Your blood has done something to me,” he whispered. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” His deep rich voice passed through her chest.

“No, of course not. You feel so good … so wonderful.” She began to cry out again, her body heating up.

He moved faster now. He was hard and felt so good.

“Shit,” he cried, “I’m going to come again. What the hell?”

The orgasm caught her, an intense surprise that had her crying out. He pumped fast now, lightning moves that carried her orgasm to a new height. He arched back and cried out, his thick pecs trembling as he spent himself yet again inside her.