“Then you must put me inside you.”
His gaze narrowed slightly, and you knew he was enjoying your look of shock. His shaft was heated when you wrapped your fingers around it again, and you glanced down, enjoying the weight of it in your hand, tightening your grip and watching the silky tip throb.
“As much as I enjoy your appreciation, I fear I will no longer be of use to you if you continue to play with me.” His groan was deeply satisfying, but you reluctantly raised a bit higher, his rough hands tightening on your soft behind. Sucking in a breath as the silky head of his shaft breached you. It was not a way John had ever taken you and everything felt so much more … deeper, wider, the way you held on to his shoulders, one smooth and beautifully muscled, the other cold and hard. But both supported your grip as you rose up and went down again, harder this time as his hands moved you.
“Sponsa mea, dilecte mi,”he whispered to you, full lips moving against the shell of your ear with a sharp nip on your earlobe in the next breath. You moaned at the sting and tightened against him, feeling the power shift between you again at his groan.
Pushing harder, feeling him spear through you sent a gasp between your clenched teeth. It was still so strange to know that pain could be a pleasure and pleasure without it was not the same. But it was true, James had taught you this. His long fingers curled around your waist, moving you in the direction meant to press all the soft and secret places inside you against his cock. Your hips circled and curled, your sweat-drenched arms slipping from his shoulders, sliding and grasping his beautifully sculpted biceps and pectorals. Your mouths touching and passing breath between you.
“So wet,” he crooned, “I feel your slick coat your cunny and my balls. You’re making a mess of us, Little Bird. Come now and give me more. Coat me.” His mouth moved to one breast as he arched your back against his forearms and you felt his dark chuckle against your nipple and the delicate sting as his fang slid into the soft flesh.
You were convulsing, you were writhing, babbling words of gratitude for this moment, anchored to his shaft.
The rest of you, finally flying free from your cage.
It was sometime later when John rose to tend the fire, still spectacularly naked and you peeked from under the blankets to appreciate the sculpted curve of his perfect behind. He caught you, of course, glancing over his platinum shoulder with a sly glint in his eyes.
“Such a salacious glance, Little Bird. What happened to my sweet, virginal miss?”
“You are, sir, completely to blame,” you answered primly, secretly stunned that you were bantering with this creature.
He laughed at that, rising to his feet and brushing the soot from his hands. “I have a final gift for you.” Picking up something wrapped in white off the table, he sat next to you. The third and final silver crest of his house rested on the cloth. “When I give you this third piercing, it will protect you from the Night Brethren. No one can break this barrier. Bonding Magic is the most powerful of all incantations and alchemy.”
You remembered your confusion the first time John had shown you the three pieces of odd jewelry, the fear of what they meant. But this time you lifted your hair, leaving your neck bare for him. There was the clicking of the pliers, the short, sharp pain of the piercing and then he traced his finger slowly down the three of them. Your breath hitched as the calloused tip of his finger caught on each one, followed by a gentle kiss on the first, fragile bone of your spine.
It was the screech that woke you, the stench of carrion and a wet slurping sound of one unnatural thing against another. Looking out the window, you could see the shadows swirling and wailing outside the boundaries of the stone walls.
The sound was terribly lonely. For the first time, you could make out individual moans and wails, a lower hiss, or a louder snarl.
They’re so hungry,you thought,but they’re here. Waiting for me.
James…
Strange to feel cold blood run colder,James thought grimly. His Little Bird was not in the nest of blankets she’d made on their bed. She was not in the washroom. Nor getting something to eat, feeding her growing appetite.
He found her standing by the iron gates and his undead heart twisted in his chest. His Little Bird in her fragile white nightgown, standing close to the smoky curls and tendrils of the shadows, who moaned and screeched like prey, trying to reach her.
“I’m your sister.” Her sweet voice was so calm.
A tremor rippled through the greasy, inky dark of the creatures writhing and boiling outside the walls.
“I am,” she insisted, “I’m one of you. I’m so sorry you’ve suffered, but you’re not alone. And I need you.”
“My sweet fledgling,” John’s voice was hoarse, “this is not the time to spread your wings. You can’t fly here.”
She turned, enough for him to see her profile, the glint of the three studs on the back of her neck. “They’re my family, too.”
His Little Bird was carefully dressing, John had taken away her corsets and stays, even though her stomach was still flat.
“Don’t forget your gloves,” his hands stroking up and down her arms. “It is bitter cold.”
“Not that the Court of the Night Brethren will feel the winter,” she said, her gentle voice cynical for the first time he could recall. He leaned closer, chin nearly resting on her shoulder, and reflected in the mirror behind her.
“True, my darling. But they will still feel their end.”
Her eyes met his golden gaze, and she smiled.
It seemed like madness to be returning to the mansion that held the cold and avaricious Court. Desiccated corpses still dangled from the spikes above the gates that opened for them, easily. John reached in and helped his sweet girl out of the carriage. The towering front doors were open, a grim, bluish-white light streaming down the ornate, tiled steps and at the top, a sullen and still battered Stephen.He’s not healing as quickly as he should,John thought,weak bastard.
