Don’t. No.
Please.
And then she shifted, and he felt her lips go wide against him and then the sharp stabs of pain, brief and hot, and then the burst of his blood surging free. Release.
He gave a low, agonized cry as waves of pleasure undulated through him. He exploded twice inside her, into her mouth, into the deepest part of her center as she heaved and shuddered against him, her face still buried in his neck.
Then…even as he filtered back from the edge of nowhere, the lust still vibrating inside him, Chas felt the competing rush of ugliness bubbling up. Sharp little pulses from the marks on his shoulder served as prickling little reminders of his depravity, opening himself up to the pleasure of the devil.
He closed his eyes and turned away.
_______
Narcise slipped away from him,easing back to her side of the bed, exhausted and sated. She closed her eyes, still tasting Chas on her lips and tongue, still quivering with the last bit of pleasure.
Her body was warm and loose in a way that it hadn’t been for so long. So very long. Their joining had been passionate, yet slow and tender, the desire coaxed from where she’d locked it deep inside her until it rushed out in a surge of completion.
It had been so long since she’d felt true pleasure…and yet, despite its truth, her joining with Chas left her with a hollow space deep inside. Confusion warred with satisfaction and when she felt him stirring next to her, Narcise welcomed the distraction and opened her eyes.
He’d shifted away, lying flat on his back, the back of his arm resting over his eyes. His chest—smooth slabs of muscle and dusky damp skin—still shifted with rough breathing. And a trickle of blood eased down along into the hollow of his throat.
Narcise realized that in the throes of passion and release, she hadn’t finished tending to the bite. Her mouth dried in anticipation as she thought of touching his smooth, dark skin again, tasting the last bit of salt and musk mingling with the warm blood.
She lifted herself up onto an elbow, closer to him, and leaned over the rich, shining ooze. He stiffened, sensing her nearness, and she lightly closed her fingers over the squared-off angle of his shoulder as she bent to cover the bitemarks with her mouth. She’d barely begun to lick up the remains when suddenly he moved. His arm shifted, and at first she thought he was going to grab her closer to him again—but then she saw his face. Taut and dark and damp.
And then all at once, he erupted from the bed and lunged toward the table. Snatching up the basin, he vomited into it with violence as he bent over the table. As she watched, curious and concerned, he lifted his face, swiping his mouth with a bare arm, then—all dark and naked and muscled—stalked over to the window and flung the contents out.
She winced, hoping there was no one below, and remained silent as he rinsed out the dish with water from its pitcher and dumped that below as well.
When he finished his own ablutions in the clean basin, Chas turned back to her. The expression on his face was carefully blank, but Narcise was distracted by the shiny spot on his throat she’d been tasting a moment earlier.
“Apparently I imbibed too heavily last night,” he said coolly.
“You need give me no explanation for your illness,” she replied, wondering why he’d felt the need to do so. And then she offered a defense of her own. “I hope you aren’t under the impression that I enthralled you.”
His mouth twisted as if he were either in pain or about to laugh, and he turned away, giving her another excellent view of his long, lean back and tight, square buttocks. His tousled hair nearly covered the nape of his neck, winging up every which way around his head and ears. She also noted what was, of course, absent from his muscular shoulders: the Mark of Lucifer.
“No, I am not under that impression,” he replied. His attention slipped down and Narcise realized she was still completely naked, her chemise having gone the way of the bedcoverings during their lovemaking. She also realized, with a start, that for the first time in as long as she could remember, her body remained unmarked and smooth after coitus. No bites or cuts.
Chas was moving toward her, his eyes hot and dark. And determined. “But perhaps we should try it again,” he said, “to be certain.”
Narcise’s heart thumped and she felt her body begin to tighten in anticipation. “Perhaps we should,” she replied, wondering if this time she might banish the hollowness.
She saw that he was ready for her, his cock lifting and filling, his eyes burning in their own mortal fashion. But she wasn’t prepared for him to turn her around, facing away from him. He eased her toward the bed, gently but firmly, until the fronts of her thighs bumped it.
“My God,” he said as he pulled the hair away from her shoulders and neck. His fingers moved lightly over the faint rise of Luce’s Mark.
It grew from beneath her hair on the right side and spread down over the back of her shoulder to just past her scapula: curling, root-like tendrils. Hers was softer in shape and lighter in color than others she’d seen; most of which looked like cracks in shattered glass.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, still gently tracing over the Mark. His voice in her ear brought deeper, gentler shivers down along the side of her neck.
“Not now,” she told him, curving her hands up and around to touch the back of his head. His hair filtered around her fingers, warm and heavy, and as she combed through, a renewed wave of his scent released into the chamber.
“I’ve seen Dimitri’s Mark,” Chas commented, sliding his hands along the curves of her torso as he lined himself up behind her. “It’s thick and black and raging, as if it were filled with evil.”
Narcise might have responded if he hadn’t slipped his hands around to cup her breasts, if he hadn’t begun to distract her thoughts by sliding his thumbs over her nipples.
He nuzzled the side of her neck, his lips full and the tip of his tongue a gentle, moist tease that sent gentle, insistent shivers through her. Narcise realized vaguely that there would be no sharp pain, no quick slide of fangs, no release from her pounding veins, and it was odd…but pleasant.
