Eldest son, as a matter of fact.Primus inter pares, once, but none of Maximus’s coevals had survived so long, nor been sent upon so many sensitive, complex missions. William had been a good pupil, the finest among his crop, being groomed for a command of his own.
No more. And he had to wonder why William had acted so oddly, appearing in the parking structure. Certain aspects of that fight were worrisome.
His leman’s hips shifted, a wall of pleasure swamping her enthralled sanguinant, returning him to the immediate, vivid, overwhelming present moment.
“Oh,” she breathed. “Okay.”
For a long, breathless moment he thought she accepted necessity, acceptedhim, and his chest expanded with intense,murderous relief before he realized it was merely mortal fatigue and the narcotic effect of feeding from a Maker. Were that lacking, she would no doubt struggle as she had before.
He had his praenomen again. Unfortunately it was the title of a traitor, a patricide in the making, a beast assaulting a defenseless nymph.
Worst of all, he had no intention of stopping.
His body tensed, shaft driven to the hilt. He battered the gates of Elysium itself, as her soft hands rose to grip his shoulders, as she moved with dreamy slowness. Cast into phrenzy, he nevertheless grimly held his own release at bay until her pleasure was unmistakable, tiny gasping cries lost in his mouth battening upon hers, the hot satin of her innermost sanctum clamping rhythmically.
Then he was lost as well, spinning, drowning, his only anchor shuddering below and around him. Damned and driven, chained and liberated at once, he pressed a kiss to her humming pulse before driving his teeth in, and the taste of his salvation bore the smoke-laced edge of his very own, hisonlyfledgling.
The world halted. He collapsed onto her, merciful blackness covering every sense for a brief eternity, and even in that abyss a single word beat in time to his old, ruthless heart.
Leila. Leila. Leila.
A tiny, experimental wriggle, setting off another cascade of pleasure. He raised his head, and she went still. Was it fear, or discomfort?
“Shh.” Maximus stiffened, propping himself on elbows. Had he crushed her; could she breathe? “Don’t.”
“Huh?” Another tentative shift, her hips twitching. “There’s… it’s… Is that normal?”
Of course there were distinct differences in physical structure, though all sanguinant had been mortal once. “The shape changes.” Groping for words to explain was a constant difficulty, but one he could be grateful for. If she were disposed to listen, it meant at least a measure of resignation to her new status. “Barbed, as an arrowhead. I am fastened for some short while. Try to relax.”
“Sure,relax. Uh-huh.” Finally, her legs wrapped about his waist, slim pretty ankles hooking together. She let out a long, drowsy sigh sounding suspiciously like relief. “Oh, thank God. That’s better.”
His heart, pierced and soothed at once, gave an incredible leap. “I will remember as much.”
She paid no attention, lost in the blur of feeding. “Monster blood.” A singsong whisper. “High on monster blood. Wow, what a trip.”
Very little matched the opiate pleasure of your Maker’s ichor, given initially to strengthen the Gift and afterward as a reward for good behavior or marked success in carrying out orders. A leman’s presence overpowered even that rapture; could she understand her own importance, that a few meager drops of her breathing presence outweighed centuries spent fighting the slow rise of ossification?
“Hey. Max.” She bumped his shoulder with her palm, perhaps used to requesting attention from her former companions in blunt manner. “You’re making me a biter, right? Is that what this is?”
Biter. It wasn’t the worst word, he decided. “Sanguinant.” A pedantic correction, and he risked brushing her cheek with his own. She did not retreat from the caress, nor did she attemptescaping his weight. All in all, he could be cringingly grateful for such grace. “Yes. You are given the Dark Gift, little Leila.”
“So I’m… ugh.” Even her soft disgust was attractive. “I’m gonna have to suck blood?”
“Only mine.” If he must pay with his own veins for her grudging compliance, it was only right. He would give much more for far less—and if she ever gifted another creature the touch of her fangs, he would wait for her to finish draining the prey before tearing it to shreds. The certainty was immediate, instinctive, and overwhelming. “I will hunt for us both. You will learn what it means to be leman.”
He waited for some response, but there was none. She had sunk into unconsciousness; he realized dawn was well past. Soon she would suffer Sol’s advent as a fledgling always did, rendered helplessly somnolent until dusk loosened daylight’s bonds. Full transition would be swift for one so sensitive, especially with frequent feeding.
The thought was extremely pleasing.
Maximus lay still, breathing her in, and even while cursing himself for what he had just done, he knew he would never take another road.
CHAPTER 15
One momentshe was high as balls, lying naked underneath a vampire. The next, Layla was conscious of a pillow against her cheek, a large quiet space around her that didn’t smell of mildew or rot, and a deep inarguable sense of physical health she hadn’t felt in forever.
It was a cliche to open her eyes and thinkwhere the hell am I, but the situation sort of demanded as much. This might take the prize for ‘weirdest thing to happen since your best friend got eaten by a biter’, though there were other serious contenders.
She’d been living in the Twilight Zone for four fucking years, after all.
