Chapter 15

Kailey watched the gravel road. She chose her hiding spot well; surrounded by fragrant bushes, silver leaf sage, creosote, silver nightshade, and acacia heavy with blossoms, Ian would not smell anything out of place. When a single car, after eleven pm, parked outside the gate, she allowed her pent up rage to prepare her for the role she must play. A tall figure exited the vehicle. He shook out his cape and pulled nervously at the cuffs of both silk sleeves.

He scanned the rough edge of the peaks as if wondering the best path to reach the height. For a human, Usery mountain peak stood a good two hours from the trail head. He expected to make it in less than thirty minutes. His boots made a slight crunching sound on the gravel when he walked. Nothing like Neha, he thought, she moved like a ghost. Less substance than moonlight. Ian wondered if he would die tonight. Anything would be better than a half existence of endless hunger, unable to touch the woman he desired above all else and deprived of the wealth he deserved. He had no control over his any part of his fate, because of the wild nature of his vampire body. None of this was his fault. Ian was a victim of the supernatural. Of all the foolish things this cursed vampire temper forced him to do over the years, this duel was just one he wished he could erase. Lost in thought, Ian tasted bubblegum.

His head turned when Kailey popped her bubble loudly, the sound acting like a siren to his rattled nerves. She stood, but did not come out of the bushes. Ian saw only pale her face, eerily floating on her camouflaged body, framed by leaves.

"Hello, Father," she said. "I've come to kill you."

Ian barked a laugh. "Well, little one, you will have to get in line. I have a challenge tonight."

"Not anymore. I made myself their champion. It's only fair." She raised her voice a little to hide the crackling of her earphones.

"Oh, you know that was an accident..."

"Really?" she interrupted. "An accident? You left me before I was born, left my mother alone. She wasted away without you, raised me for twelve years before death took her. The firm hired a nanny and let me stay in the house. They owned everything, you know. Grandfather gave it to them. You owned nothing, you were dead; you had no right to break into the house and take Mom's jewels like a dirty thief! I missed her so much, I slept in her bedroom. And you couldn't even sneak well enough to leave me in peace."

Kailey's high, child's voice was yelling these accusations at him, but it was a story Ian knew well. They had this fight many times before he threw her into the street to fend for herself as a new vampire. He never wanted to be saddled with the burden of an eternal child.

"So I woke up and screamed. You just couldn't resist! Neha told me, you tried to eat me. You were draining me but she stopped you. Not your own daughter, she said, and she pulled me away from you to hide me while I changed. Now I'm dead when I should have grown up, had children, known love and gray hairs by now. I should be fifty-one years old last May, but I'm still thirteen and it's all your fault." Her earphone crackled again and she screamed. "It's your fucking fault!"

"So?" Ian asked coldly. "Other than whining about it, and boring me, what do you plan to do?"

"I got a job, Father. I grew up and got a job. Did you know there are some people in this world who don't forgive vampires for knowing their secret locations, stealing their confidential notebooks, and breaking and entering on private property?" This time when the tiny speaker in her ear crackled, Ian realized she was not listening to music.

He heard, clearly, "We only have one chance at this. GO!"

The motorcycle rumbled along at just the legal speed limit. Arjun tried to ignore the snarl of thoughts as white lines ticked by, one after the other. He felt these thoughts spinning from one moment in time to another.

Neha. Her strength, her pride. Arjun also desired peace, but he could no more back down from punishing Ian than forget the look in Neha's eyes when she confronted him. Wouldn't she be happier if he was no longer walking the earth? Would she forgive him for killing the bastard? She was fragile and lovely, like a lotus flower rising from dark and troubled waters.

Shalima interrupted his worries. The shower of sparks around the golden dragon formed bursts of light only he could see. The spirit was excited, and that made the words and images she projected difficult to interpret. Arjun slowed the bike until he found a good side road to pull over and concentrated on calming Shalima. He saw fire and heard a faint scream in her mind, then nothing but dark silence. She gave up trying to explain and spit out another flame.

It's ok, Shalima, just say what you can. He soothed.

Boss, you should hunt first. Plenty of time to get there. The later the better.

Arjun stilled his thoughts, knowing that the spirit would relax with him. He understood that the dragon was desperate to keep him away from Usery Peak and the waiting duel, but he couldn't make out her emotions. Fear? Amusement?

"If later is better," he drawled out loud, "How does never sound to you?" Overwhelming relief washed out from the radiant dragon as she laughed, flaring like a roman candle.

Never sounds about right

"Show me," he gritted his teeth, already regretting this decision. "Let me see the park through your eyes."

In agony from being ripped swiftly from his body, part of Arjun longed to steady the flight of his familiar. He was a helpless passenger as she rocketed into the dark sky at the speed of thought, rolled and banked toward the mountain, performed a stomach lurching stop, and hovered motionless over the scene. He silently thanked her for remaining still while the rest of his mind had a chance to catch up. Arjun focused on the park, lit only by a few camp fires far back from the road. The park was almost empty, but the parking lot directly below was crowded with people in the ugliest purple, gray, and black uniform he had ever seen. A half circle of humans, their mortal souls lighting them from within to Shalima's sight, advanced quickly on a single vampire. Magical bindings held him so tightly he could hardly twitch in pain or speak. His face twisted in a soundless scream when the humans raised their flame throwers and fired.

Arjun jerked back on the seat of his bike as if he had just fallen from a great height. He flipped Shalima the bird and pulled out his phone to check the time. Eleven-thirty pm. He dialed Neha, changed his mind, and hung up. He didn't want to go straight to voice mail if she was screening her calls. He sent her a text message instead. It was more like the notes they used to send to each other. Neha loved the written word and couldn't resist reading his text messages. "You were right, my love. I'm not fighting Ian tonight, or any other night. I am coming to your house right now. Will you forgive me?" Send.

He steered the bike with his knees and was soon racing along the highway at ninety miles per hour. He flowed around the other cars like they were standing still, thrilling in the pure wonder of mechanical speed.

Behind him, a searing flare of light bathed the desert foothills. The explosion folded in on itself to form a pillar of fire that burned for a few minutes. Arjun saw none of this. His thoughts were already with his lover, begging her forgiveness in the only way he knew how to beg, plundering her depths like a gateway to infinite bliss.

Chapter 16

He tried to stay calm – he desperately wanted not to handle her roughly, but from the moment she had answered the door, her body briefly illuminated by the candles behind her, wearing only a flimsy robe of dark blue silk that barely reached to the top of her thighs, his thoughts toward her could only be described as hungry and terrifying.

Even from that distance, he could smell emotions rolling off her in waves. That and the intoxicating lure of her scent, equal parts fear and arousal, drew every molecule, every fiber of his being toward her, painfully, abruptly, like an iron to true north; and he wanted nothing more than to throw himself on the voluptuous softness of her body in a pure abandonment of lust. Staring as he was, at the outline of her breasts, the swell of her hips, the lushness of her thighs, as she stood limned in the soft light from the room, he was sure he looked a complete predator in every sense of the word.

As if she were thinking the same thing, she hesitated in the doorway, her thumb anxiously rubbing the brass doorknob. She pink tongue darted out across her lips to moisten them, looking at him from under her eyelashes.

He stepped inside and took the door from her hand, firmly closing and locking it in one smooth motion. In a rough, low, voice he whispered, "Neha, my lover, forgive me." It was as if an electric current pulsed through the room; he could feel his skin tingle with it, as she closed the slight distance between them and ran her hands along the bare skin of his arms, almost as if she were hypnotized.

"Of course I forgive you." She sucked in a deep breath, the fabric straining at the fullness of her breasts, her nipples hardened pinpoints in the silk robe. "I love you." Suddenly the plain shirt and jeans he was still wearing seemed to be too much, too tight, and the only thing that kept him from ripping them immediately off his body was the sight of the gentle shift of her flesh as her body moved under her nearly see-through garment. She led him gently to the couch and urged him to sit, initiating the moves of their lovemaking for the first time. Neha was seducing him.

He could feel the cushions shift under her slight weight as she curled up at the opposite end of the couch, before crawling hesitantly across the seemingly vast inches between them. Watching the fabric ripple across her hips, he was painfully aroused, and he would have fidgeted like an uncomfortable child had he been able to move. He could see now that she was not wearing any underwear. His hands clenched against couch arm, wanting to touch her, but not wanting to bring this vision to an end.

She knelt next to him on the couch, her long hair hanging in a dark braid down her back. He didn't have to ask Shalima to know that she was nervous. Even in the darkened room he could detect the faint trembling of her body, echoing the low panting of her breath. The tension thrummed off her like a plucked string. They had been together before, but this time would be different. Neha was ready to offer him a place in her heart.

And so she knelt, all soft velvety feminine flesh, her body wrapped for him like a most alluring present, her throat exposed to his ravening gaze as if it were some sort of offering. Heated memories flitted across his lust addled brain, inundating him with a flood of images that primarily involved rolling her under him onto the floor, tasting her lips, his body arching mindlessly into hers . . . He opened his eyes – he had only blinked – but they had not moved. She still rested demurely on her knees, completely unaware of the ways in which she was now occupying his less than virtuous thoughts.

He reached out a surprisingly unsteady hand, tracing a ghostly line from her jaw down her pulsing jugular to the delicate bow of her collarbone, watching in rapt fascination as her darkly golden skin ignited in a blushing brand under his touch. Perhaps it was symbolic that through her talent she was offering him her once human self, because the illusion of heat and blood came full force with her mix of mortal and immortal scent. She leaned instinctively into his fingertips letting out a shuddering breath as his other hand found her thick braid and unbound it, combing her hair with his fingers until it flowed down her back and across her shoulders, caressing his hands. Gently, he let his hands circle her shoulders coming to rest wrapped around her upper arms, lifting her and pulling her close.

He didn't know quite how it happened: it seemed like his mind went blank when he grasped her overheated flesh, but suddenly she was straddling him, his narrow hips swathed in the softness of her thighs. Her hands rested upon his shoulders, limp and nerveless, offering no protest as his own settled firmly on her hips, holding her a willing captive against his desperately wanting body. She was the flame to his freezing moth, and he wanted nothing more than to throw himself into her and be consumed.

Breathing shuddering breaths they looked at each other, lost in a final moment of uncertainty. Gazing into the bottomless depths of her dark brown eyes he felt as though he were drowning, as if there were an iron band around his chest, and he could never again draw air. She stared back at him, transfixed, and then slowly brought one hand up to trace the fullness of his lower lip, shattering the stillness.

All his breath left him in a gust, his body pulsing with a fresh jolt of desire, and he roughly claimed her mouth with his own. She whimpered as his arms tightened reflexively around her, and her mouth opened against his, her blazing tongue tasting the coolness of his lips. He splayed one hand wide over her lower back, molding all of her voluptuous softness to his unyielding frame, and the other slipped softly into her hair, gently tilting her head back to expose her throat. Her body arched helplessly against his own, her swollen breasts squashed against his cool chest. Pulling away from her mouth, he traced his lips down the gentle arch of her neck, urging her body further backward, tracing a trail of his lust to the warm haven between her breasts.

By now she was breathing in sharp, urgent gasps, her hands clutched to the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline. He eased the straps of her gown off her shoulders, feeling as powerless as she, as the waves of his own arousal poured over him. His own coherence was rapidly slipping away in the flood of sensation emanating from the superheated lushness of her body. The fear that he could frighten her away with his intensity was quickly being replaced by the overwhelming need to touch, to possess, every last inch of her naked flesh.

He kissed the skin of her shoulders while his hands traveled down to the sash that held her robe closed, and then paused, gathering himself, whispering his cool breath against the roundness of her breasts. Gently, he traced the outlines of her nipples, taut with desire under the sheer fabric, and, when she was breathing so loudly she could be heard in the next room, he tugged the flimsy strands apart, leaving her naked before him as the gown dropped away from her body. She buried her small fingers in his curled hair.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." He kissed her then, softly, comfortingly, and then received one of the greatest shocks in all his long life when she whispered laughingly into his mouth, "My Darling, you're wearing too many clothes," and then began tugging industriously on his belt.

In a flash, he skinned off the rest of his clothing, the fabric of his cotton shirt protesting as he ripped it unceremoniously from his body. His shoes were already off, waiting patiently outside for him on the porch of the house next to Neha's pumps. His jeans were more of a problem – he did not want to move her gentle hands, or to be parted from the delicious warmth of her spread thighs. Groaning softly in frustration, he rolled, tipping her onto her back against the long leather couch, and together they managed to remove the last barrier between them and their nakedness.

She was smiling slightly as she laid back, her hair spread out against the pillows like a peacock tail, her arms wrapped lightly around his neck as she guided him back down to the impossible warmth of her bare flesh. Her body arched against his, tight as a bow, as his mouth closed around her breast and he tasted the hardness of her nipple with his tongue.

It felt as though he were sinking into and inferno. Her body, so soft and yielding compared to his, seemed to mold around him, engulf him, bathing him in the deliciousness of her heated scent. He moaned softly against her breast as he felt her blazing, trembling hands beginning their own tentative exploration of his body. Her touch whispered like flaming butterfly wings against his cool skin, tracing a line of fire down the tensed muscles of his abdomen and then back up, more deliberately now, to circle around his chest, rolling his nipples under her burning thumbs. He felt the muscles jump and flutter in his groin, his body screaming at him to give in and claim her, his teeth aching to bite her.

He paused, trying desperately to silence this new hunger arising within him - the desire of his masculine, human self resurfacing, untamed, from the ashes of his immortal body. The siren call of her scent, her sex, the heat rolling off her skin, the way her cinnamon tipped breasts molded into his hands, the soft, trusting look on her face as she gazed up at him were all too much for his overloaded senses.

"Oh, god, Neha," he managed to choke. "Maybe you should drop the illusion."

It broke his heart to say it, to know that he would disappoint her, that she might see it as rejecting her, but the last remnants of his quickly retreating sanity were demanding that he stop the madness before he gave in to his baser instincts and destroyed them both.

"Arjun," she whispered, slipping her burning hands low against his hips, "I want you to have all of me. All these human feelings you brought back to me. I can't turn it off." And she guided his anxious body to rest in the cradle of her thighs.

His eyes met hers, fierce and determined. She nodded, taking her swollen bottom lip between her teeth. Her legs wrapped around his back, eagerly, as he surrendered himself to the roaring rush that flooded his body, deafening his ears. Holding her gingerly, as though the lightest touch would shatter her, letting the pressure of her hands measure his pace, he slowly pressed himself into her liquid heat, taking her in a way he never had before.

Her eyes were vivid, locked on his, with a wild streaming tenderness that enveloped him, crystallized him, and birthed him into a new being as he felt the thundering her heart through her chest being echoed in their newborn connection lower down. He wanted to move, but the sensual heat of her body, soft and yielding though it was, held him trapped and paralyzed, helpless in this new unguarded rush of sensation. Her fingers traced a feather light touch down the smooth planes of his back, circling on his hips, and then splaying flat against him, urging him deeper as she rolled her pelvis against his.

His mind went blank, blissfully empty of intruding thoughts, and he gave in to the exquisite pleasure of losing himself in his lover's embrace. The blazing heat of her body, wrapped around his, and seemed to set fire to his own as he moved hard against her, as though he were seeking somehow to extinguish himself in the flesh between her thighs. She was flushed, perspiring despite his own cooling touch, causing their skin to slide slickly as they moved against each other, immersing him in the headiness of her scent. It was like bathing in blood, and it was the most intensely erotic thing he had ever experienced.

Arching his back, he buried his face in her throat, tasting her perfumed flesh with an open mouth. Her breasts rubbed, full and soft against the tense muscles of his chest, her hardened nipples pressing like fingertips against his own. He captured one in his hand, rolling the taut, puckered flesh between his thumb and forefinger. She moaned at his touch, and he could feel the sound shuddering through her slight frame as her body lifted and tightened against his.

Something dark surged within him, driving him involuntarily into her, thrusting deeper into her yielding wetness with an animal abandon. Dimly, distantly, he could feel her responding in kind, opening to him, wrapping her legs tightly around his rolling hips, urging him to violence as she scraped her small white teeth across the hard skin of his shoulder. He was only too willing to comply. She let out a gasping, choking sob, the cry of a drowning swimmer, as her body contracted around his; and he rode the tide of her clenching release like a cresting wave, crashing upon the shore of his own climax; muffling his shuddering breath in her hair as he spent himself within her, and then collapsed, boneless like a fish on top of her.

He had never felt more helpless. He had never felt more alive.

Her heat faded slowly against his chest while her body shivered with the lingering waves of their shared passion. He felt her hands, released from their death grip in his hair, slide down to rest, flat against his chest as it heaved with unnecessary breaths against hers. As his consciousness slowly swam back into focus, he realized they must have fallen from the couch and rolled halfway across her plush carpet while they made love. Forcing his oddly protesting muscles to move, he rolled to his side, moving his weight off her small frame.

She murmured in protestation at his movement, turning with him, tangling her legs with his. He stopped her with a shaking hand on her chin, searching her face for any sign of disgust, ready to curse himself for being too rough, too forward, for losing control. She was still smiling - he could see the faint twinkle of candle flames in her tangled hair - her eyes were dilated, the irises an odd shade of purple with flecks of gold, and her lips were slightly parted.

"Are you all right, love?" His voice sounded thick, unused, and it stuck in his throat. Her perfect immortal face softened as she looked down at his powerful naked body, at the wild mess of his hair, and leered at him.

Her voice was as rough as his when she responded. "I'm a hell of a lot better than all right."

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