Immortal Protector

The Immortals - 1

Elizabeth Finn

To my sister, Boo. I knew you’d read a book someday; I just never imagined it would be mine. Love you.

Chapter 1

The ropes cut into Ember’s wrists as she pulled. Pulling would only make it hurt worse and the ropes dig in deeper, but she was in trouble. The man had left her alone, but he would be back. She knew he would. She could hear the sound of his feet above her, and it scared her. She pulled and she twisted, but she couldn’t get out. She was cold, she was scared, and she just wanted to go home. She was in trouble.

All she’d wanted to do was go play at the ball diamond with the other kids, but he’d grabbed her. He was mean, and he threw her in his smelly old truck before she could even scream. She was supposed to scream. She knew she was. Ember knew better than to go anywhere with strangers, and she would also never fall for one of those stupid “Your mom is hurt, and I’m going to take you to her,” or “Can you help me look for my missing puppy?” or “Do you want some candy, little girl?” tricks. Duh … stranger danger. She’d heard the speech a gazillion times already in school. But this wasn’t supposed to happen—being grabbed and tossed into a truck. Then he hit her—hard. It was just like they did on the TV shows her mommy didn’t want her to watch, and it hurt. Her head felt like a firecracker exploding; she wanted to sit up, but she couldn’t. Her body felt like mush. She stopped screaming after that. Her head hurt, and she couldn’t see right anymore.

Yes, Ember was in trouble—the kind of trouble that had her cussing fuck as she pulled and twisted against the ropes. She was only ten, but she knew that word. It’s what the big kids said, but when she’d said it, her mommy had put a bar of soap in her mouth—more than once. But in the dark and smelly basement with the sound of his feet above, it was the only word she could think of to say. And she said it. As she cried, trying hard to be quiet, she whispered the word as she kept twisting, pulling, and yanking hard on the ropes.

Every step above her made her cry harder. She was shaking, and she couldn’t stop. There was a spider crawling across the floor toward her. It was big, nasty, and ugly, and normally she would be shrieking and running in circles screaming for her mommy, but right now, she just watched it. She stared at its long, hairy legs as it came closer and closer. She wanted to scream, but she was afraid he would hear her … so, she watched. She was almost as afraid of it as she was the man, but then his feet started moving above her head again, and she pulled on the ropes again, forgetting the spider.

Her mommy would miss her if she didn’t come home. Ember was all her mommy had. That’s what she always told her. Her mommy killed the spiders for her, but this one was getting closer, and Ember didn’t know what to do. She just wanted her mommy. She just wanted to go home. She wanted to go so bad it made her cry more and more.

I’ll eat the whole fucking bar of soap if I have to; just let me the fuck out of here and let me go home. She heard the big-kid words in her head, and she wanted to scream them. But he was scary. He was like a monster. She just wanted her mommy to come for her, and she didn’t understand why no one was there to help her. Mommies were supposed to be there. Big people were supposed to be there to help you when you were little. But there was no one. There was nothing but the sound of his feet walking around … and the spider.

It was at her foot now, and one long, spidery leg touched her bare foot. Ember jerked. She couldn’t stop the scared shaking in her body, and after lifting her leg in the air, she smashed her heel on it. It hurt, but she didn’t care. The spider’s body squished on the floor, and she was suddenly afraid he heard. Had he heard?

The footsteps moved. Maybe he did hear. Fuck. There was a light on the ceiling. It was just like her scary basement at home, and there were more spiderwebs up there, but when the man pulled the basement door open, she forgot about the spiderwebs. She forgot the spiderwebs meant there were more spiders somewhere. Bright light hit her face, and she couldn’t hold her eyes open, but it didn’t stop her from fighting, twisting, and pulling her wrists again as the ropes burned her skin. It felt like fire, and she could feel blood dripping down her arms, but she was afraid to look away from him. She just kept pulling pulling pulling, twisting twisting, and yanking as hard as she could.

She watched his feet as they walked down the stairs. He had big feet, ugly dirty boots. Every step made her cry harder. She wanted her mommy, and she cried for her, shrieking and squealing when his boot touched the floor and she could see him. She was more afraid than she had ever been. More afraid than when she broke her arm when she’d fallen off her bicycle; more afraid than when she got shots. She pulled and pulled and twisted harder and harder, but he was getting closer, and she cried louder than she’d ever cried before. She couldn’t stop crying, and every time he stepped closer, her body shivered and yelped. She wanted to be quiet. She didn’t want him to hear her, but she couldn’t be quiet.

He was going to hurt her. He was going to kill her. She was going to be one of those people in a box they put in the ground, just like her grandma. He was going to do that to her. And it was going to hurt. He’d already taken her clothes and left her freezing on the floor. He’d tied her hands together, pulling the rope tight before he tied the rope to a metal ring on the wall. It was like a dungeon, and it smelled so bad. She didn’t know what he was going to do, but it was really going to hurt her bad.

When he stopped in front of her, she stared. She didn’t want to look at him, but she was afraid to look away. He was scary-looking, like a real monster. He was ugly and dirty, and he was smiling a mean smile. He rubbed his crotch and talked to her. It was the first time he said anything, and he sounded mean. He sounded excited, but he was still mean. “Oh yeah. I’m gonna enjoy you. But don’t worry, when I’m done, I’ll kill you fast and dump your body where your dear mom will never have to see how much fun we had together.”

He reached down; she was crying louder now, and she curled up to the wall, but she couldn’t stop him when he grabbed her foot. She was screaming, and she couldn’t stop. But he didn’t care. He was supposed to care if she was scared. That’s what big people were supposed to do. But he didn’t like her, and he wanted to hurt her, and Ember didn’t know why. Ember thought people always liked her. What did she do to make this man want to hurt her? She was choking on the slobber that was dripping from her nose and running back in her throat as she cried. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. “Mommy … I just want my mommy… Please… Please… I want to go home.” He pulled her ankle, and she couldn’t stop him when her body was pulled away from the wall, and when she was lying flat, he lay on top of her. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe at all, and she was still choking on the slobber, but now he was too heavy, and she couldn’t breathe even more.

Ember shut her eyes tight. They burned, and she couldn’t breathe enough to make it stop. He was breathing on her cheek, and his breath stunk. He smelled like dirty teeth and onions. It made her stomach hurt, but she held her eyes closed tight and tried to breathe deep. She was too afraid to see him again, and it was dark and safe with her eyes closed. She could pretend he wasn’t there, and she could pretend her mommy was… He was too big to be lying on her. He was squishing her, and she was going to squish to death like the spider.

But then he was gone. He was gone, but she didn’t know how. He was too big to move fast, but he was just gone. It was like he just poofed and disappeared. Her eyes opened slowly; she was afraid to see what was happening. But when she opened them, the man was still there, and when she saw him, she screamed again, but there was something wrong. He didn’t look the same. He looked scared. He was on his knees, and he was afraid like she was. But there was another man there too, and he was looking at her. His eyes were pretty. She wanted eyes like his. They were shiny, and the color was like the stone in her mommy’s favorite necklace—all brown and green mixed together. He grabbed the monster man’s hair. It looked like it hurt, and the monster cried just like she was crying. When the pretty man pulled his head to the side, the monster was panting like a dog.

The man with the pretty eyes wasn’t fat and ugly like the monster, but he was still stronger, and the monster was scared. He had pretty hair just like he had pretty eyes, and he looked like he was from a magazine. He wore a suit like the businessmen did—just like Principal Anderson at her school did. Ember tried to be small against the wall again. She didn’t know the pretty man, and maybe he would hurt her too. But then she saw something. His teeth were growing. They looked like a cat’s teeth, sharp and pointy, and he touched the pointy part with his tongue, and he smiled at her.

Ember was still panting, but she could breathe again. Her nose was running, and she was crying, but she felt safe. But… Maybe the pretty man would want to kill her too. But maybe he would help her like big people were supposed to do. She just wanted her mommy. His mouth moved to the monster’s neck, and she stopped shaking as bad. She wasn’t as afraid anymore. He was going to hurt the monster, and she felt safe. When his lips touched the monster’s neck, the pretty man looked at her.

His lips pulled back, and his pointy teeth touched the monster’s skin, and when he bit, it sounded like he was crunching through an orange peel. The monster’s eyes got big, and he stared at her. She hated him. He wanted to take her away from her mommy, and she didn’t care that the pretty man was hurting him.

The pretty man tore the monster’s neck like an animal, and he spit the skin across the room. Ember was still shaking and crying, and she wanted to go home, but she felt … safe. His mouth went to the monster’s neck again, and he sucked hard on the man’s skin. The monster’s eyes closed and opened, and his mouth was open like a dead fish. His skin was white, and he looked like a fake body … a dead body. When his breathing got fast, and his eyes started to look different, she knew he was dying. And when he took a quick breath and then didn’t take another, she knew he was gone. He was dead like her grandma, and she didn’t care. Ember curled up in a ball on the floor. She imagined a warm blanket covering her, and she closed her eyes tight.

When she felt a hand touch her skin, she opened her eyes again. The pretty man with his pretty eyes was crouched in front of her with his hand on her knee. He was clean and smelled good—so much better than the basement. He kneeled in front of her, and he was smiling, but his teeth were normal again. His hand felt weird on her skin. It didn’t feel like a real hand; it was just different—too cold, but not really cold.

When she spoke, she gasped at the sound of her voice. She shouldn’t be talking to him. He was a stranger, and even though he was smiling a nice smile, she still didn’t know him. “Are you going to kill me?” She sounded like she had a cold. Her throat hurt, and she was thirsty.

“Not even I could do such a thing.” His voice felt warm in her ears. It purred like a cat, and with a tilt of his head, he talked again. “Tell me your name.”

“Ember Greeley. What’s your name?” She shouldn’t talk to him, but Ember always talked when she shouldn’t, argued with her mom when she knew she would get in trouble, and was naughty even when she’d have to go to her room. Her voice was quieter, and her head was fuzzy, but she didn’t want to stop talking to the man. She was too little to talk to men with weird teeth in dark, smelly basements, but she wanted to talk to him.

“I’m Truman Solomon. It’s good to meet you, Ember. You’re safe. And you’re going to sleep now.” And as she heard his words, her mind went even fuzzier, and her body got tired, and she curled up again. She was safe, and she was going to see her mommy soon.

Chapter 2

Seven Years Later

Hands were pulling at her clothes and gripping her body harshly. The hands were always large, dirty, and terrifying. When they touched her, she cringed as though their very contact with her skin might kill her. “Oh, I’m gonna enjoy you.” It was always a far-off echo of a voice that held the promise of nightmares. But the truth of that promise was never realized as wakefulness always managed to rescue Ember before the promise could destroy her.

Ember knew what the man had wanted to do. She could see it in her mind whenever she let herself sink into the awful memories. It left her skin crawling, and she had to choke back the puke that threatened to burst forth. She couldn’t stand to even think of what could have happened to her in that basement, and she also couldn’t stop thinking about it sometimes. She wanted to shut her brain off when the images crept into her mind. Her friends didn’t have to think of these things. Why the hell did she?

Screeching out her terror and waking her mother was how the nightmare always ended. Ember gasped for breath as the long-lost memories roiled beneath the surface of her now seventeen-year-old mind, and when her mom would enter, Ember would be cowered at the head of her full-size bed, feeling small, vulnerable, and terrified.

Her mother, Katherine, had told her once what it had been like when Ember had gone missing. She’d told her of bouncing from one panic attack to another, falling apart in suicidal madness when she stopped moving for even a moment. It was devastating to hear of her mother’s pain, and it had taken a long time for Ember to get past it. Ember was a teenager after all, and it was her job to not care about anything, or so the world thought, but her mother was her everything, and Ember’s abduction had nearly destroyed the woman.

Ember’s own memories were far cloudier, but she would never forget the morning she stumbled from the dilapidated, old home and was rescued by a car passing by. Apparently, the home had been rented by a man who was new in town. No one had known him, and not surprisingly, he was later linked to two unsolved child abductions and murders in the Boston area.

Ember had been rushed to the hospital that morning, and the police had brought her mother. She hadn’t arrived back from playing with her friends the evening before, and Katherine had wasted no time calling the police. Children didn’t go missing in Laconia, New Hampshire. The community was too small, too safe, too … ordinary and simple. When it was discovered that Ember in fact hadn’t even shown up at the ball diamond where her friends were playing, her mother knew with no remaining doubt that her daughter had been taken.

But her mother had clung to hope; didn’t all parents in these situations? And in Katherine’s words, when the call came in that Ember had been found and was alive, she had melted—she apparently very literally sank to the floor of their living room and sobbed as the police officers and detectives watched.

Ember experienced every test no ten-year-old should have to endure just to find she was untouched, aside from a nasty bruise to the side of her face and deeply abraded wrists from the ropes that bound her. Her memory was oddly filled with holes, and moments of clarity became clouded with confusion as the detectives asked question after question of her. She couldn’t possibly have killed the monster, but when asked who did, the cloud settled in and left Ember’s brow wrinkled and confused. No one much cared who killed the man, and in the end, the inquiries faded away much like Ember’s memory had.

But the dreams remained. Clouded and shrouded, popping up a time or two a week as a reminder of everything Ember failed to remember.

As Katherine stroked her daughter’s forehead, Ember’s panic and fear faded. Ember was going through a nose-ring phase, and her hair was a most unnatural shade of scarlet red, but she was still as much a child of ten as ever in these moments. But she was also just a teenager. She went out with friends, misbehaved on more than one occasion, missed curfew a time or two, and had been grounded more times than she could recall. Ember was just a normal teenage girl—just one who had very narrowly escaped her own demise and fought constantly to keep the nightmares away.

* * *

“Get off me, Todd!” She was panicking.

She’d made the mistake of drinking at the damn party, and now this. Drunk and vulgar dumb-ass jock Todd had her nearly undressed, and in her drunkenness, she was failing pathetically at stopping him. Shit! She was so going to end up the inspiration for some cheesy Lifetime movie. Her mother was addicted to that shit … perhaps she’d check out Ember’s own story … or would that be weird? Her thoughts were fuzzy and drunk. They didn’t make much sense… She’d probably end up played by some C-list actress who couldn’t act. Her mind ran through images of would-be thespians, and she got lost in her thoughts as Todd kept touching her.

Todd’s hands roamed. They took liberties she would never give him were she sober enough to stop him, and when they shoved past the waistband of Ember’s underwear, she wanted to scream. But she was fading, and she was far too busy casting her made-for-TV movie in her foggy mind. As his fingers roughly pried at her sex, his breath sped and panted his excitement in her ear. Ember wanted to push him away, but she was so far away from her own body and soul. She managed a “no” and hoped it sounded convincing, but his hands said clearly it wasn’t.

“I suggest you leave her be, or would you prefer to answer to me instead?” The voice was demanding and so incredibly powerful. His voice alone assured Ember this man was strong. Her eyelids were so very heavy, and she couldn’t see him, but he was powerful, and it left her chanting in support inside her head. You go, stranger! Go on with your bad self and kick Todd’s ass … whoever the hell you are… Every ounce of this man’s strength could be heard in his voice. She could barely open her eyes, and she was unclothed, but humiliation was hard to come by in her current foggy haze. But now, she was saved.

“Fuck you, asshole. She’s willing, and this isn’t your fucking business.”

“She’s drunk, she told you no, and I assure you, she is my business.” The words were spoken on a quiet purr that promised to destroy Todd if he didn’t comply, and Ember kept cheering in her mind. Ember’s eyes were still closed, but as she forced them to open to slits that felt heavier than her eyes had ever felt, she saw him. He was standing in front of her naked body, looking down at her with twinkling hazel eyes. Her savior, and in that moment, she saw him … really saw him, remembered him, knew him. It was as if a flood of memory that had long been forgotten was released in a tidal wave, and as it did, Ember’s eyes teared even in her relief, and those tears spilled down her slack cheeks. She was sure she looked like a freak, lying naked on the floor, smiling a lazy smile with her eyes barely open and tears streaking down her cheeks.

Truman. Truman Solomon. She knew him.

She watched through the slits in her eyes as he reached for Todd’s throat, and holding Todd’s head close to his own, he spoke once more. “If you ever do anything to hurt Ember again, I will kill you. Sleep now.” And as if on cue, Todd’s body slumped to a slackened heap a couple feet from her own.

Mind control. This was impossible. Nothing in life had prepared Ember to see and believe in what she was seeing at this moment. Nothing had prepared her to come face to face with the missing memories of so many years ago that were suddenly circling in her mind. The sight of him over the monster’s shoulder, the tearing, ripping, draining sounds as he devoured the monster in a scene from some god-awful horror movie; that was her life, a damn horror movie. She could still remember the purring, gentle voice as he approached Ember on that cold, dank, basement floor, and the thought alone left her shivering.

When he lifted her, his cool touch sent a strange warmth through her body. He wrapped his arms around her protectively as he wrapped her in a throw he’d grabbed nearby. The second her body was covered, she missed the feel of his skin on hers. Ember usually avoided the touch of men, but this man was different. Where she usually went out of her way to blow guys off at school, she felt safe with him—and Ember didn’t feel safe with anyone.

As he placed Ember in the passenger seat of his sleek, dark car, he reached across her body and buckled her in. He then rounded the car and took his place behind the wheel, pulling away from the home that nearly became another nightmare to add to her collection. Ember continued to watch him. He was calm and cool, and as he approached a light, she spoke. “Are you going to kill me?” She was trying to sound bold and strong, and the memory of the basement hit her again. She’d asked him that very question long ago. She’d been quite bold when she spoke to him then; far bolder than she’d felt.

His eyes twinkled as his gaze moved to hers, and he responded. “You already know the answer to that question. But if you need a reminder, I’m happy to oblige. Not even I could do such a thing.” Truman held her eyes with an amused look on his face as the memories from so long ago played out in her mind. She was struggling to hold her eyes open wide enough to take all of him in, but she didn’t want to look away. His car smelled as delicious as he did, and she found herself wanting to reach out for him to feel the cool touch of his soothing skin once more. He was clean-shaven, and his skin looked smooth and enticing.

She wanted him. She wanted to feel his touch where all others had scared her. She wanted to feel the weight of him pressing in on her body, when all others felt suffocating. Drunk and uninhibited, her body flushed with desire and wetness spread between her legs. And as her body responded to him, he stilled and went rigid beside her. His jaw clenched, and he swallowed hard over a lump in his throat as though there was some shift in him she couldn’t conceive. Had he sensed her want? Was that even possible?

When he carried her into her home, silently passing by her mother’s room, it was again with ease and a cool touch. Her mother was hyper-vigilant when it came to Ember. She had already nearly lost her once, and as her only parent and the weight of her safety sitting squarely on her shoulders, she had little patience for threats to Ember’s security. Even Truman, in all his mysterious otherworldly strength and charm, would be unwelcome in this home, but he seemed not to care at all as he laid her fatigued body on top of her quilted bedspread, pulling the blanket she was wrapped in away from her body. She was left naked and trembling, waiting for his next move.

She wanted his touch. Under the circumstances, it was inappropriate, but she did. She wanted his lips on hers, his hands on her skin. She wanted him to invade her body in the way men seemed so intent on doing without her permission. But it was her friends who did those things, not Ember. Ember had never wanted or desired a man other than the safe and secure ones who occasionally flitted through her fantasies. But he didn’t touch her in that way at all. Instead, he lifted one of her hands to study the knotted and ugly scars that circled her wrists. He studied it and stroked it as her chest rose and fell in her nervousness. The dim lamp beside her bed was on, and her nakedness was causing a flush on her skin. But as he stood from her, walked to her dresser, pulled a nightgown from the drawer, and returned to her … it seemed as though her nudity was not on his mind in the least.

He helped her to sit and slipped the nightgown over her head and down her body. With a strong hand on her back, easing her body down, he helped her to lie back on the bed. When her back was settled on the softness of the quilt and his body hovered above her own, she leaned to him. His mouth dropped open, and the tips of his fanged teeth glinted in the lamplight, but as her mouth moved to his, his body stilled, and with only a fraction of an inch left between them, he pulled from her and sat up straight as she collapsed back onto the bed. She was certain she should feel embarrassed, but still half-drunk, she really didn’t give a shit.

“We can’t do that.” His expression was warning, and she stilled at the harsh look on his face. She didn’t think he was angry, but she wasn’t quite sure what to think of him.

“Because you’re a vampire?” Now she’d asked for it. She always asked. It was just her thing. She annoyed people often with her incessant questions and inability to stop the dribble of one question after another, and her floodgates were opening. She was drunk after all, and that wasn’t helping her rein in her tongue.

But he smirked and chuckled quietly. “No.” He didn’t offer any elaboration, which gave Ember all the permission she needed to delve further.

“Are vampires impotent?” Holy shit! The floodgates were definitely open wide.

But he chuckled again. “No.” And again, he offered no further explanation.

“Well if you don’t have a heartbeat, how can you not be?” What could she say; she was taking Human Biology that semester.

He stood and rounded the bed. Lying beside Ember and turning his head to her, he smirked again. “Why don’t you listen and find out.”

Ember leaned up on her elbow; finding the strength in her current condition was a struggle, but she was mesmerized and far too intrigued. She dropped her head to his hard chest, resting her cheek on the soft fabric of his shirt. He smelled incredible, and another flush ran through her body. She was shaking in her weakness, and she let her weight rest against him as she listened. It was a slow and oddly inhuman beat, nothing at all like the strong lub dub she’d studied during class. And when she pulled from him with her brow wrinkling in confusion, he chuckled in amusement.

“Assumed my heart would be quiet?”

“Yes. How does it beat if you’re dead?” She was powerless to stop the questions now, and he’d given her permission; hell, he looked downright entertained at her inquisition. Odd. Most people found her annoying when she got like this.

“Dead is something of a relative term. My blood still has to circulate, and my heart still has to beat in order to make that happen … among other things…” And another smirk, this one with a very seductive lift to the side of his lip that left her warm and tingling. “My heart just beats for a very different reason than yours.” His words sounded gentle in his warm voice, but his eyes studied her in the most intense, smoldering way.

He was giving Ember no sign she was annoying him, so she opened her mouth and let it do what it did best. “If your blood circulates, why are you so pale?”

He rested his head on his arms as he studied her, and she rolled to her side to watch him. “Because my blood’s not oxygenated like yours. It circulates and keeps my tissues viable, but I don’t require oxygen in the way you do.”

“So you don’t breathe?”

“Breathing seems to be an autonomic response even vampires can’t shake. We breathe, but it becomes a far more emotional response than necessity, though it’s absolutely necessary in order to smell. One of our many heightened senses.”

“What about eating…? I mean, other than … well, blood?”

“No.”

“How is that enough? I mean if your tissues are alive…”

“I said my tissues are viable. To say they’re alive is … not entirely accurate. They’re alive in a different sense than your own, or, perhaps I should say, they’re preserved and kept in a state of stasis. That’s why we don’t age. And no, I don’t eat. I don’t have a need for food because I don’t have to make energy. I have no use for a metabolism in much the same way a cold-blooded animal requires little food because their bodies don’t create heat or energy in that way. That’s why my temperature matches my environment.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” She was always being such a petulant brat.

“Perhaps you should have paid better attention in class,” he said with a smirk and a wink. “It makes sense insomuch as it makes sense that cold-blooded animals subsist in the world. I realize it doesn’t make sense in terms of existing without oxygenated blood, but that’s where our venom and the toxin, for lack of a better word, come into play. And I won’t be delving into that one as there are few who have much understanding of where it came from, began, or even what exact mechanisms allow us to exist on nothing more than a toxin that has taken over our bodies.” He looked over to her as her tired eyes watched him, and he studied her. He was intimidating, but at the same time, she knew that he meant her no harm.

“I’m guessing you have more questions, so you may as well get them out now.”

“What about mind control? How do you do that?” Ember was tired, so tired her words were slurring, but she wanted more than anything to keep him there, keep him talking.

“It’s more like hypnosis. I can’t take a person’s memories from them. I can simply make it difficult for them to reach and access them. The memories are there; they’re just hidden, buried. You never lost the memories of me from your childhood; you simply couldn’t find them. And it only works with memories of myself. I can only bury myself from your recollection, nothing else. It’s nothing more than a defense mechanism that allows us to move through this world without being discovered. Believe it or not, humans don’t take very kindly to my species … though admittedly there is good reason for that.”

“Because you kill people?”

“I kill monsters. I don’t kill innocents.”

“But what if you couldn’t stop yourself? Like, from killing me?”

He chuckled in response to yet another line of questioning. “You watch too many movies. It doesn’t work that way. I crave blood plenty, and I depend on it to survive, but it’s like you and pizza. I may love it just as I know you love pizza, but it doesn’t mean I can’t control my desire for it.”

“You obviously haven’t seen me with pizza…” Her tone was sarcastic, just as she meant it to be, and it brought a smile to Truman’s face. “What about sunlight? Are you going to burn and turn to ash when the sun rises in a few hours?”

“Again, Hollywood has gotten the better of you. I will get a headache, I will feel weakened; if I stay out, my skin will burn, which will of course heal quickly when I return indoors. I can’t say it’s pleasant, but it isn’t earth-shattering. In fact, many of my kind hold down day jobs … perhaps not roofing a house, but you’ll see them in offices, hospitals, any profession that doesn’t leave them in perpetual sunlight.” And offering another smirk, he continued. “Anything else? I’m an open book.”

“Do you sleep?”

“I don’t technically have to, but I’m quite partial to it. I sleep nearly every day for at least a few hours. I enjoy it immensely. Now, have I satisfied your curiosity enough?” He was watching her with a calm and serious expression. She was hardly satisfied, but she nodded. Once he stood, he rounded the bed and sat at her hip as she rolled to her back and gazed lazily up to him. “Now what’s with the red hair and nose ring?”

Her cheeks burned, and she shrugged in response. It was the same response she’d given her mother when she’d let out her exasperated sigh of frustration. “Don’t like it, huh?”

“The nose ring’s fine. The hair isn’t you.” And then he stood and moved to the door.

When he reached the door, she mustered the last of her drunken voice and spoke. “Will I see you again?”

He stopped and turned, and with a twinkling wink and beautiful smirk, he responded. “Someday. Sleep.” And as her eyes sunk closed, she did, and the memory of him faded once more into some dark recess in her mind.

* * *

When Ember woke the night after the party, she was late. Her shift at the coffee shop started at seven thirty, and cussing and muttering all the way out the house, she leaped into her car. She didn’t even have time to shower, and she smelled like booze—brilliant. On her way to work, she thought about the night before—or what she could recall of it. She remembered speaking with Todd; hell, she even remembered him coming on to her, but then nothing. She woke in her bed, clothed in her nightgown, but she had no idea how she’d gotten there. For a moment, she thought she must be crazy or maybe she’d been roofied, but she felt sane, her body felt fine, and finally giving up on her lost memories, she decided she must have been far drunker than she recalled. Once she arrived at The Bean, she stumbled through her day.

Her morning ticked off slowly as her hangover made her brain throb and her body ache. She was counting the minutes until she could return home and collapse into bed. Sitting at the counter, she prayed she wouldn’t have to help another customer.

“I’ll have a dark roast, black.” His voice was warm and invaded her thoughts, and when she peered up at him, annoyed he’d spoken before she had acknowledged him, she froze. His eyes were amazing. They were a cool shade of hazel or green, and they watched her. He was beautiful. Pale and impossibly perfect. His voice wasn’t the only thing that caught her attention. It was every last piece of him. Total hotness. His lips were supple and slightly parted as he studied her. Her body flushed as he watched her, and her mind raced with thoughts of him. He wasn’t from here. His dress said that clear enough. He was in a suit, dark and wool. His tie was tied with perfection at his neck, and there wasn’t a single cuff out of place. “Ember.” His voice interrupted her thoughts. He knew her, and for some reason this didn’t surprise her, though she was certain she’d never met this man before. You couldn’t forget meeting such a person.

“How do you know my name?” Her voice was almost accusatory as she said it, and though she could hear the accusation in her voice, she failed to stifle it. The subtle smirk he returned made it clear he wasn’t offended.

With a hand that reached to her chest slowly, he touched her name badge. His finger didn’t stray from the badge, but her body trilled as it was pressed lightly into her skin, and as his finger withdrew moments later after having invaded her space, he continued to regard her coolly. “Dark roast, please; black.” His words again interrupted her thoughts as she realized she’d been standing frozen since meeting his eyes.

“Oh, yeah … yeah. Sorry. Uh … that’s two fifty-six, please.” His hand reached out once more to Ember’s, and as she fumbled to take the money and the change dropped to the counter, his other hand clasped her. His touch was off. Something felt wrong with it, but she couldn’t place it. He wasn’t cold, he wasn’t hot, and his touch simply confused her. As he placed the change in Ember’s hand, he curled her fingers toward her palm, sealing the money within her weak and shaky grasp.

As he walked away, she admired his body. Hotness was an understatement. Her hand still gripped the money he’d placed so intentionally in her palm, but her gaze appeared to be glued like tractor beams to his body at the moment, and his money was forgotten. He was tall, but not towering; he was lean, but not too slim; he was strong, but not bulky. He moved like a gentleman. Like a man with confidence. Like a lawyer or something. His movement looked effortless and easy, not nearly so chaotic and clumsy as her own.

When his coffee was up, rather than calling him to the counter, she approached him. Her hands were shaking as she held his cup, and she cussed herself instantly for wanting to be near him when it was far safer for her fleeting coolness to hang back and let him fetch his own drink. As she set the cup on the table, it sloshed its hot liquid, and she panicked in humiliation. When his fingers once again met with her own, it was to still her quick attempt to clean the small mess from the table. “Thank you, Ember. I can take care of it.” His eyes held hers as she breathed heavy, nervous breaths while trying her damndest to hold his demanding gaze.

Once back at the counter, she tried to immerse herself in the job. It was late morning, and the crowd had tapered off considerably since her arrival. Her shift would end at noon, but she already wanted to flee. The Bean was usually a place she was comfortable in, but as she moved around cleaning tables and refilling sugar packets, she felt his gaze on her. He was reading a book of some sort, but while his head stayed facing the book in front of him, his eyes did not, and on more than one occasion, she caught his shimmering greenish-brown gaze studying her. They were seductive eyes, and his gaze followed her effortlessly as she moved, not so much as pulling his head in her direction, but just following. When he finally stood to leave, it was with a subtle nod of the head to her as he passed and one final comment. “Take care, Ember.” Approaching his table, she found a full cup of cold coffee and a twenty-dollar tip.

She couldn’t help but feel as though she’d seen this man before, but of course, it was impossible. She would remember such an encounter as that. She could likely want a man like him in her life one day … once she was old enough for one. Her friends far surpassed her own experience with men … but then again, they didn’t carry the memories of how monstrous men could be in their minds with them daily. Ember didn’t consider herself a victim anymore; or a survivor, for that matter. She was happy, content, and for the most part, just normal. Painfully plain and normal—hence the red hair and nose ring: just a desperate attempt to be different, to make herself less invisible. A man such as him could never want a girl like Ember, and yet, he watched her like he did.

When Ember was finally off work, she stopped by the drugstore on her way home and picked up a box of color. Two days before, she loved the crimson red. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to be a plain-Jane brown head again. Once her hair was back to its natural shade of dog shit, she collapsed into bed and slept. She dreamed of the handsome man and his cool gaze. She dreamed of being curled up beside him in her bed. They were talking and nothing more, and while she inexplicably wished they were doing more, she felt secure and safe. Ember didn’t like men … or at least she didn’t enjoy trying to trust them enough to like them, but she liked this one, and in her dream, he had liked her too, and it was the most real dream she’d ever had.

Chapter 3

Three Years Later

When Katherine passed away when Ember was just entering her last semester of her sophomore year of college, it wasn’t a surprise to either of them. Ember had watched her mother waste away and die in front of her eyes as the cancer ravished her beautiful, too-young body. Katherine had fought and sought for Ember since she was born, and on the night before her death she gave Ember the last words she would ever speak. “You’ve been my most favorite part of life.” Her words were strained from her pain, but her mind seemed clear and convicted. “I love you, Ember.”

Her mother’s eyes closed with a flutter, and Ember sobbed. She knew what that flutter meant; her death was near. She sobbed like a child of ten once again. Her life may not have been the one ending, but it felt as though it was. To Ember, there was no getting past something this painful, and it was with more sadness and depression than she’d ever felt before that she set about making the arrangements for her mother’s burial.

Katherine was Ember’s best friend. Odd that she used to go out of her way to push her buttons and ruffle her feathers when she was younger, but with maturity came an intense understanding of everything it meant to be a parent, and Ember loved her mother more than she could nearly bear. They had time over the yearlong battle to make decisions together about Katherine’s burial, so there was little for Ember to actually do. It had been a long year, and Ember had been forced to grow up a great deal faster than she’d wanted. It was a year filled with trying to appreciate every last moment with her mother, relish every last memory of their life together, a year spent preparing for her end, and a year that left Ember spending an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out how the hell she was ever going to recover from this.

In the end, they’d planned a graveside service. It was Katherine’s wishes, and her nearest and dearest would be in attendance. That did not include family, as there was none to attend aside from Ember, but Katherine had been a well-liked elementary school teacher, and nearest and dearest ended up congesting nearly the entire cemetery with past students and faculty wanting to pay their respects.

Ember sat stoically at the side of the casket. Her tears were all cried, and her pain was locked far away where it couldn’t touch her at the moment. Grief would take her once again when tomorrow came and she woke to a silent house. The long year had taught her that as well: pain and grief could ebb and flow, leaving her in peace one moment and overcome with sadness in another. But her grief was tucked away at this moment—just a small and temporary reprieve.

Ember had spent the past year bouncing back and forth from her school in Portland to Laconia, struggling to keep up with classes. She’d made her last trip back to Laconia three weeks prior when Katherine had taken a turn from bad to worse. Ember withdrew from her current semester at the University of Southern Maine in Portland, knowing the time was near. And now she would be forced to suffer the remainder of the term alone at home, packing up her mother’s life and selling the house Ember had been raised in. But at least for this moment, Ember had escaped her pain and anguish. She was numb.

One person after another filed past. Some took her hand and offered their condolences, and others, most in fact, shuffled by, glancing furtively in her direction but without a word. She understood; it wasn’t easy to regard someone who had just lost a parent, but it still hurt, and it left her feeling empty and alone.

When she felt a hand touch hers, she jumped. Not from the touch, but from the feel of this particular touch. Her body seemed to recognize this touch as though it was long forgotten yet known to her in some way. At the same time, Ember recognized it was different from every other hand that had touched hers this day.

Looking to the shimmering greenish eyes before her, she stood slowly and gasped. She couldn’t place him, but she was certain she’d met him before—some long time ago in her past, but she’d remember if she had. He leaned to her cheek, touched his soft, cool lips to her skin, and spoke. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Ember.”

“I’m sorry. Do I know you?” Her head was cocked to the side as she regarded him. He was beautiful, but there were plenty of beautiful people in the world. He was just different; very different.

He held her gaze strongly with his own and responded. “Yes you do. Remember me, Ember.” It wasn’t a question, but a quiet command, and as it was spoken, the gates that held him back from her consciousness opened and flooded her senses. She blinked as if in slow motion as she continued to watch him, and every last memory of Truman reintegrated with her life. As Ember gasped again, he watched her. His gaze was impassive and serious. When she felt her legs collapsing beneath her, he caught her and lifted her easily in his arms. And then she fainted, and her sadness turned to black.

* * *

She woke some hours later, and her confusion showed clearly in her eyes. Truman had taken her to the hidden and secluded cabin he had owned outside of Laconia from the time he’d first met Ember. Truman had known after that first meeting he wouldn’t be able to stay away from her. He had to know she was okay, so he’d purchased the home he visited often just so he could watch her.

He watched her grow with nothing more than concern for her safety in his mind—much like his little sister of so many centuries past. He took care to make sure she was safe and looked after, but even he didn’t see her mother’s illness coming. He’d watched Ember’s tears for a while now—when she was here to visit and care for her mother, she always left the house to be away from her mother when she cried. At home in her apartment in Portland, she was far more unrestrained in her emotional pain and suffering, sobbing herself to sleep more nights than he could count. It was as though she had attached herself to him in some way in that dirty, smelly basement all those many years ago, and he couldn’t let her go until she was safe and secure.

As Truman watched from his place in the shadow against the wall, she turned to the massive picture window beside the bed and looked out on the forest beyond, lit only by the subtle dusk sun setting more by the moment. But as she rolled to it, he spoke, and her body stilled. “How are you feeling?” Her interest pulled from the window, Ember sat up and turned to his voice, and he stepped out of the shadow. He’d released and unfiltered her mind the moment he approached her at the cemetery, and here, in the quietness of his bedroom, she looked to him in wonder. Their story was complete in her mind, he’d made certain of it, and every last memory he held had been given back to her.

“I’m fine, thank you.” Her voice implied anything but. He knew it as well, and as he approached and sat on the bed, he studied her. However cool, calm, assured, and strong he had always been during his fleeting visits, he had always been so very protective of her as well, a hold she had over him that he’d never quite understood.

Truman stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb as he kept his eyes trained on hers. A shudder ran through her body at his touch, and the subtle scent of her arousal filled his hypersensitive senses. Truman moved alongside her body and lay down next to her. He reached to the top button of her dress; he worked it out of its buttonhole as her heart raced and her arousal intensified. He moved slowly down the front of her dress, releasing one button after another as he listened to her heart thudding strongly away.

“What are you going to do to me?” Her voice was quiet and nervous, but her arousal was intense and strong.

“I’m going to make love to you.” He studied her every reaction to his words.

“What makes you think I want that?”

He offered a subtle smirk as he spoke. “Your pussy is wet, and I can smell your arousal seeping from your body. It’s really quite a delicious scent you have.” She blushed, and her eyes flitted from his, but he held his gaze trained on her. He was saying the words he knew would cause a flood of hormones through her system, and he enjoyed every influx of her scent.

His body was perpetually strong and sure, and he wanted her to feel his strength. Where Truman usually hid himself from humans and buried their memories when needed, he wanted her to know exactly how he worked. He wanted her to feel just how strong he was. He was a man, just like any other, and he wanted her. He craved her warmth, craved her touch, craved the tightness of her body and his place within it. She had wanted him once. She had been little more than a teenager then, and he’d rejected her drunken advance, but now… She was no teenager. She was a woman, beautiful and intelligent, calm and collected, heartbroken… He could take that away for a time. He intended to show her pleasure, and he would take it from her as well.

He’d thought endlessly about making love to her since the night she’d leaned to his mouth, craving his lips on her own. With that in mind, he gave her the choice he’d not allowed her to make three years ago when he’d rejected her. “Tell me you want me to fuck you. I won’t touch you if you don’t, and I want to hear it.” His soul was begging her to ask for him, plead for his touch. He was ready and willing, and she need only say the words. She didn’t disappoint.

“Will you? Please will you make love to me?” Her voice was quiet and hesitant, and he couldn’t wait to test that hesitance. Leaning to her mouth and finally consummating the kiss that had begun years ago, he latched himself to her top lip, pulling it between his own. His fangs were retracted, but he knew the moment his arousal built to a frenzy, he would have to be careful not to pierce her delicate skin. Her mouth tasted like her essence, and as he inhaled the scent of her arousal that emanated from her skin and the warm virginity between her legs, his own arousal built as the lilting beat of his heart sped and lurched in want.

As quickly as she asked the question, she stilled and pulled from his lips to look at his eyes. He studied her, wanting to devour her. “Will it be … different because you’re not human?”

“Are you concerned I won’t measure up to the other men you haven’t been with,” Truman mocked with a devilish smirk, taunting her arousal with his seductive voice that he knew would leave her wanting him all the more.

As Ember’s cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment, she bristled with nervousness. “I just didn’t know … I mean … you know … uh … do we have to use protection? Or … is there even anything to … you know…” She waved her hands about between their faces in what he could only guess was supposed to be the universal sign for ejaculation, and as he chuckled at her absurdity—he’d seen it plenty before—he shook his head coolly.

“My body hasn’t forgotten how to function like a man, and I come just like I did when I was still human. That said, my body is as alive as yours, just not in the same way, and there is no compatibility anymore between my cum and your sweet, tight pussy. So take heart, dear Ember, there’s nothing to worry about.” Truman watched her every reaction to his words. She was nervous, and his vulgar words sent another flush to her skin. Her arousal peaked again as he inhaled deeply.

As he plunged his tongue within her mouth once more to silence her fears, he felt and savored the warmth of her silken skin. He’d limited his sexual activity to his own kind since transitioning, and he was so very ready to feel that human warmth gripping his cock. It had been too many hundred years since he’d felt that incredible heat. She was the only one who could satisfy that need. He trailed his hands back to the top button. When he parted the fabric, he pulled from her mouth to gaze at her body, and yet another flood of arousal hit his senses. Every scent of her need drove him deeper into his want.

Her body worked remarkably like his own, though so different. Her arousal fed his, and he was stiff and rigid in his need to invade and conquer her body. Truman knew from many a long hour of watching her that she hadn’t given herself to a man yet. He was relieved every time a date ended with her going home alone, and while he understood well enough that it was events in her past that made this such a difficult hurdle for her, he was relieved for his own personal, ever-alive masculine reasons. He wanted her. He wanted her virginity to belong to him. He wanted to be the one she accepted when all others failed.

His gaze roamed, and his arousal strained against the front of his pants. He may have studied her for years, but aside from finding her naked in the basement as a child, and then again with Todd in a different basement three years ago, he’d never overstepped this boundary, regardless of the fact that he could. This was his first sight of her body since that time, and he’d forgotten how truly stunning she was.

Her nipples were tight and hard. The areolas were small and deliciously pink and supple. Her breasts had the most perfect round shape that begged to be gripped and squeezed within his palms, and he reached for her body, giving into his long-stifled desire. His cool hands met the warmth of her skin as he stroked. Quite frankly, he wanted to bite. He wanted to sink his fangs into the luscious skin of her breast and taste her. But he would never hurt her, and so, he ignored the deep ache in his jaw where his fangs already protruded.

As he trailed his fingertips over her skin, she flushed and gasped. She watched him, and the writhing movements of her hips spoke of her deep yearning to fuck him. He had a few more pleasures in mind first. His mouth moved to her breast, and he licked a trail around her nipple, avoiding the sensitive peak.

Ember’s hips moved and writhed at the touch of his mouth, and her hands clenched as her arousal fought to run free. When he looked back to her eyes to watch her torment, she begged once more. “Please, I just need you inside me. Please.”

The smirk that spread slowly across his face left her eyes begging for his compliance. “I promise you by the end of the night, that’s exactly where I’ll be, but three hundred years on this Earth have made me a very patient man, and there are far too many pleasures I want to share with you first.” As he spoke, he walked his fingers down her body to linger above her panty line. Her dress was completely open to his gaze now, and he took his time looking over every last inch of her pale, beautiful skin as he stroked his finger along the waistband of her underwear.

Ember’s sigh was defeated and painfully aroused as her expression said she understood fully she’d have to give into his tortures if she wanted him to fuck her. Leaning to her ear, Truman whispered, “Stand up.” She rolled instantly from the bed and stood at the side as he sat up to face her body. “Take your dress off.” Ember shrugged in response to his words, letting the fabric fall down her slender, graceful arms. It fell to the floor behind her feet with a nearly imperceptible sound, and as the dress came to a rest, Truman moved his hands to Ember’s small waist. He held her waist possessively and pulled her body to his mouth. He kissed slow trails along her abdomen, stopped above her pubic region, and inhaled her scent.

She trembled in his clutches, and he knew with every last pace he put her through, her trembles would become more pronounced and leave her shuddering in want and ecstasy. As he inched her underwear down her hips, he looked up to her eyes. She returned his gaze as her stomach muscles twitched and jumped. He relished the sight of her trembling in front of him. She’d be pleading and begging him for it soon. When her finely haired pubic region came into view, his gaze moved from hers to study her body.

His fangs ached in his jaw as his arousal continued to mount, but she was in no danger from him. He craved blood as much as any of his kind, but he limited his indulgences to the evil of the world, not innocence, and while he intended to savor and enjoy the taste of her destroyed virginity when his cock was finished with her, he would never envenomate her body just to taste her blood.

As her underwear fell to her ankles, her legs trembled, and Truman grasped the backs of her thighs to steady her shaky limbs. When Ember’s body was back under control, he leaned once more to the smooth skin of her abdomen and kissed trails over her young, flat contour. He didn’t need to see her eyes to know she was watching. Her clenching and trembling stomach muscles spoke volumes of her mounting nervousness and need.

With a steady and deliberate movement, he rested the outer side of his hand on her pubic bone, and with a slow and gentle touch to the top of her cleft, he parted the lips of her vagina with his index finger and thumb. Ember’s gasp broke the silence of the room, and she was once again shaking and quivering. When Truman stroked the tight nub he’d exposed with his tongue, a powerful cry erupted from her mouth, and he chuckled between laps at her clitoris. This was not a torture she could tolerate for long if he was going to keep her from collapsing to the floor, so he abandoned her sex and stood to face her, moving his hands to cup and caress the round cheeks of her bottom. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and shared her taste with her.

Truman turned their bodies and asked her to lie down. As she settled back onto the mattress, he took his place at her feet. His cool touch met her ankle, and he caressed up her legs, parting them and pushing her knees out wide as he went. When he reached her thighs, it was with the lightest touch that he teased the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs, and as her panting and gasping breath increased, he trailed his fingers further up to her exposed sex. He again parted her lips and studied every inch of her contour. She was glistening in her wetness, and he wanted to taste her so very much, but at the moment his fingers were taking their turn. He stroked his index finger from her clit to her entry, and then slowly, as he savored the sight, he pushed gently within her virgin sheath. Ember groaned at the invasion, and Truman’s arousal forced his fangs to drop marginally farther into his mouth.

He could feel the wetness of her arousal coating his finger as he withdrew it from her tightness, and once he’d pulled from her completely, he pushed one more slow stroke into her body. He pushed and pulled and worked her sheath with gentle strokes that readied her body further and further. When her orgasm tore through her, it left her nearly sobbing as Truman pulled his body up alongside hers and stroked her cheek as her body relaxed to his touch.

“Touch me. I want to feel your fingers wrapped around my cock.” Truman knew his blunt words would stimulate and arouse her want, and as if on cue, the slight scent of her arousal, imperceptible to any human, surged to his senses. He loved the reaction her body gave him, and he rolled to his back to give her whatever access she wanted.

Ember moved up to her elbow and looked over his body. He was still fully clothed, and as she worked on the buttons of his dress shirt, her fingers were trembling. Her nervousness didn’t stop her from wanting, and it was this overcoming of her own emotional turmoil that told him just how much she wanted him, and it was intoxicating to his ego.

When she reached the last button, she pulled the shirt apart to expose his chest and stomach to her roving eyes. His nipples were as hard as his cock in desire, and as her fingers touched the small, hard nubs, his cock twitched and fought against the fabric of his pants. She leaned to his mouth and kissed him gently, and he held her cheek strongly as he plunged his tongue into her mouth.

When her tongue dipped into his mouth, he stopped their kisses and held her face from his. Her eyes searched his for understanding, and her embarrassment set her cheeks on fire. “You didn’t do anything wrong. My fangs protract in arousal, and they’re venomous. You have me well beyond the point of safely venturing past my lips.” A quick smirk and an innocent kiss to Ember’s lips gave her no reason to hang on to her embarrassment, and with his encouragement, she returned to his body. With every touch, he wanted to invade her body more, and when she finally reached the button of his trousers, his eyes fluttered, his cock danced, and he waited for more.

* * *

As Ember lowered his zipper, she could see the bulge instantly, and it was impressive. She had no real idea what made for an impressive bulge, but this was impressive. The incredible want that pushed her through her fear had driven her movements to this point, and as she pulled his trousers down his thighs and he lifted his bottom, it made his bulge all the more intimidating. When he dropped his hips back to the bed, she reached for the waist of his dark gray boxer briefs. When her fingers passed beneath the band, a quiet, humming moan passed his lips, and his eyes watched her. His eyes hadn’t left her once, and they studied her with an intense, smoldering heat.

She needed this. The last many weeks had been nothing but sadness, pain, loneliness, and more dread and fear than she could stand. He was giving her something she’d only had the nerve to dream of, but never do. He was giving himself to her, perfect and stunning as he was, and she needed it. She needed to escape her life, and for the first time in longer than she could recall, she was able to set aside everything that was wrong with her life. She was focusing only on him.

He pulled the waistband of his underwear away from his body, and his penis thrust up to his abdomen. She stilled the moment she laid her eyes on him. Impressive didn’t even come close to describing it. He was rigid, large, and so very beautiful. He looked like any other man, just far more … impressive. It terrified her to think of allowing him into her body, but as terrified as Ember may have been, it never occurred to her to turn back. She had to have him; he knew it, and from the moment he’d said he was going to make love to her, her desire had built further and further, and there was nothing that would erase that want from her mind now.

“Touch me. Now. Before I lose my mind and fuck you to keep from going crazy.” His words sent a tremble through her, and she reached to his body once more. She watched her shaky hands in slow motion as they moved first to the bulbous head of his cock. She touched with a gentle and slow stroke, moving down to the shaft once she’d traced the shape of his cockhead with her finger. When she reached the length of his shaft, she traced the rigid veins with her fingertips, moving down to the tight but large testicles. She caressed his testicles with the palm of her hand, and when she finally returned her gaze to his, he was watching her with a dark glint in his eyes. His mouth was open, and the tips of his fangs were visible. The tip of his tongue, the very same one that caressed her most sensitive bundle of nerves, moved to the sharp tip of one of his fangs and touched the point.

She wanted to taste him, and as she watched, a pearl of shimmering precum dribbled from his opening. She touched it with her finger as another deep, purring moan passed his lips. When she leaned to him and let her lips pass over the tip of his head, his moan became guttural and powerful, and his words became primal and uncontrolled. “Fuck! Oh, God, Ember. Suck me. Taste me.”

Ember sunk her lips and took him as deep into her mouth as she could bear before sucking her way back up. The taste of his precum was heady and amazing. He had a slight saltiness to him, much like sweat, and the tinge of iron. It was him, and it tasted so perfect. When the head of his cock popped past her lips, she licked around the head and traced the peak with her tongue before sucking the head between her lips and pulling him into her mouth again. She grasped his shaft and stroked with her hand while her mouth continued to suck, pulling and releasing him in and out of her mouth. His purring, warm moans had wetness flooding to her core, and her own arousal was mounting with the sound of his pleasure.

He wound his fingers through her long, straight, brown locks, tangling in the hair as he held her mouth to his body. She sucked and pulled endlessly as his moaning continued, and when he finally came inside her mouth, he held her head still as he pulsed cum. She swallowed him as he uttered her name in ecstasy. When she crawled up his body, she collapsed beside him with her head propped on her hand. His fangs were fully protracted and glistening in the lamplight, but as she watched, they withdrew into his jaw, and his teeth returned to his brilliant white normal. He gave her a seductive smile, and when she kissed him and delved into his mouth to taste him, he didn’t stop her.

His mouth was soothingly cool against the heated warmth of her own. Just like his skin, it carried the temperature of the room around them—cool, but not cold or uncomfortable in the least.

Truman shifted her body beneath his as she looked up to his glinting and mysterious eyes. When he kissed his way down across her chest to her stomach, a flood of warmth settled between her legs. At the very moment the warmth spread, he moaned a quiet and sensual sound.

He spread the lips of her vagina open to his gaze, and she froze and held her breath. When he studied her exposed body, she gasped at his intrusive eyes. He leaned his mouth to her with one quick glance to her face, and her breath left her lungs in a rush. His tongue was incredible as it moved lightly over her sensitized skin. She was moaning; in one moment she was flustered in embarrassment at her complete lack of control, and in the next moment, she cared not at all. He very obviously did not care how she chose to respond to him so long as she was pleased, and she was indeed pleased.

He latched himself to her sex as though it were a deep, passionate kiss between their mouths, and he pulled her tight nub between his lips, flicking it with his tongue as the suction wrenched the desire from her body to be experienced by them both. She abandoned composure of any sort and succumbed to gasping sobs of repletion as her orgasm overpowered her. While it racked her body with one shuddering wave after another, she still failed to care she was losing control of herself in front of this man—or whatever breed of human he might be.

As her body calmed and his lips continued to kiss sweet, soft kisses along the slick folds of skin that surrounded her sex, she daydreamed about making love to him. He’d promised it, and she was ready for it. She was ready for him.

He kneeled between her legs and let her watch him as he stroked the length of his shaft. There was no fear whatsoever, and though she knew it would be impossible to escape without pain, she was at ease. His pale hand on his rigid length was intoxicating. She was mesmerized by his dark, twinkling eyes. The tips of his fangs were dropped and glistening from his slightly parted lips, and he ran his tongue to one of the points and touched it. She knew it was his own private, unconscious show of longing, desire, need, hunger, and she was learning to enjoy the sight of it.

She wasn’t sure it was wise to trust he wouldn’t bite her, overpower her, or destroy her, but she trusted it regardless. She’d spent her life fearing and distrusting men … all that is except him. He could kill her with one bite; she’d seen it done by him before, but she didn’t fear him in the least.

As he watched, she pulled her legs out wider and beckoned his body to take hers. He smiled at her gesture and leaned up and over her body to hover above her. He watched her eyes as he guided the head of his cock to her entry. He nudged and parted the lips with the tip and readied his body to enter hers. “Are you sure this is what you want?” His voice was purring but serious, and his eyes were smoldering, waiting for her final permission.

Of course she wanted this, but she appreciated being asked after more than her fair share had tried to take without her permission. She nodded and offered a weak and strangled “yes.” It came out as a whisper that she hoped sounded as convinced as she truly was. When he pushed past her barrier, breaking through to her depths, she cried out in pain and the emotional finality that pulsed through her mind. He was pushing with a controlled but insistent stroke, holding her gaze the entire time, and when he reached her depth, he stilled and waited as she panted beneath him and begged her muscles to relax.

As her body figured out how to allow his intrusion, her panting slowed and the strained muscles of her face loosened. He withdrew from her body with one smooth glide before plunging into her again. The force behind his thrust was intense and harsh, but when he was deep within her, he waited for her pain to subside again. He pulled once more from her body before swiftly sinking deep into her yet again. He started pushing and pulling, setting a mesmerizing but demanding pace that eventually had the pain fading to the background and the pleasure building.

She hadn’t expected to come when he’d made love to her. She assumed it would hurt too much, but as his thrusting continued in his perfect deep and steady pace, her body readied itself, and she found herself panting once more. The pain was hidden somewhere far away from her mind, much like the loss of her mother was at this moment, and in an explosion of pent-up need she came again. His own orgasm overcame his body at the exact moment hers did and left her convinced he had far more control over his body than she obviously had over hers.

His orgasm came with a low groan emanating powerfully from his chest. He thrust through his release, pushing harder and harder even after he’d emptied himself in her body. He was stroking through his ejaculate, and when his strokes eventually tapered off and he withdrew from her body, she could feel his seed seeping from her. He lay beside her and pulled her into his arms. Ember rested her head to his chest and listened to his heart beat its slow, melodic pace. He was alive. However it differed from her, there was no question of it.

“Are you okay?” His words interrupted the quiet of the room.

“Yes.” She was suddenly shy and nervous, and he must have seen it in her expression as he reached to her cheek and pulled her lips to his own. His fangs were once again retracted, and he allowed her to slip her tongue past his lips to the cool wetness within.

When she gave him his lips back, he spoke. “I’m guessing you have questions. You always seem to have questions.” He was smirking again. “So you should ask them now.”

How right he was. “You have spit…”

He chuckled as he responded. “Of all the questions you could ask, you ask about spit? Do you think my mouth on your skin would have felt nearly so nice if I didn’t?”

“And you have … you know … semen…”

“I think your mouth and your pussy can attest to that. Yes I do.” He was smiling at her quizzical nature and from the look of it, enjoying this very much. Most people got annoyed quickly by her endless questions, but not him. He seemed to welcome them, and she had no intention of letting this opportunity slip away.

“How long has it been since you’ve been with a woman?”

He watched her, studied her, before he spoke. “A real woman: since before I transitioned. One of my kind: a few years or so. Why do you ask?”

“Seems like a long time.”

“When you’ve been alive for three hundred years, it puts the concept of a long time into perspective, but yes, it has been a long time for me. Far longer than I prefer to go.”

“Why so long?”

“I’d prefer not to discuss that.” His tone was serious.

“Well I’m pretty sure I came on to you three years ago, so it seems it’s your own fault you’ve been abstinent.” Ember smirked at her comment.

Chuckling again, he obliged her curiosity. “You were hardly old enough at seventeen, but at twenty, you are certainly no child.”

“Well in that case, eighteen would have sufficed, would it not?”

“I’m three hundred and thirty-nine years old, Ember. Twenty is a stretch. And I transitioned when I was thirty-six, so this is not the body of a teen or even a twentysomething-year-old man—even if my cock may think it is. Did I hurt you?” There was a sudden softness to his eyes not so befitting a man who kills people to sustain his existence.

She was sore, very sore, but she had no regrets whatsoever, though she doubted he would understand that. Truman ran his hand down her stomach and landed at her sex, cupping her in his palm and soothing her tender body with the coolness of his touch. Ember breathed a sigh of contentment as he watched her face as though he was reading her mind. This being was incredible—intelligent, strong and yet gentle, and ferociously protective of her. Why should he care for her—plain, ordinary, boring Ember? She didn’t deserve his attention, and yet, she had it, and it was focused solely on her at the moment.

He parted her lips with a slow and gentle touch, and once he’d exposed the inner silken skin, he held his cool fingers against the ache throbbing there. His touch soothed her pain, and he still held her gaze. When he pulled his hand from her after many long seconds of touching her, his fingers were red with her lost virginity. Ember panicked and tried to roll from him to leave for the restroom, only to be pulled back within his strong, tight embrace. He shushed her with his lips to her ear, and as he did, he stroked and rubbed her stomach with his hand.

He moved his body down her own and very nearly had to pry her knees open to expose her sex to his eyes.

“Please. I just want to go clean up. I’m sorry.”

His only response to her nervous words was a seductive smile; the tips of his protracted fangs showed just slightly between his parted lips. And with a quick wink, he leaned to her vagina as she gasped and tried to close her knees.

He held her knees firmly in place, and once Ember gave in and stopped struggling, he returned to his task. Ember’s body trilled and excited despite her embarrassment as his tongue touched, stroked, and laved her raw skin that was doubtless tinged with her blood. Before too long, her embarrassment abated completely, and she allowed him to taste every last inch of her flesh. As he roved over her skin, inhaling her scent as he moved, his nose tickled her flesh. He used his tongue to delve into every last swollen fold of flesh, seeking out every last ounce of her pain and every last trace of her destroyed virginity. When she came as his tongue stroked her clit, she dug her heels into the sheets and clutched them in her fists.

Truman returned to her side, and she was shocked by the strained and pained look on his face. His fangs were fully protracted, and his lips twitched in his fight against hunger. She recognized it instantly, though she’d not seen this look since the night he tore the throat from the monster. His eyes were their beautiful shade of glinting hazel green, but there was a fire to them that held danger and barely restrained desire. Desire to kill her? Turn her? Shred her to pieces? She didn’t know, but with a hand to his chest, she pushed. There was no real purpose to it for if he wished to overpower her, there would be little struggle, but seeing her sudden fear had an immediate effect on him. His teeth retracted, and the fire in his eyes subsided. His expression went from frenzied to harsh control, and he pulled back from her body, sitting.

“I won’t hurt you.” His hands were up in placation as he said the words, and Ember sat to face him, but she didn’t close the space between them. “I won’t ever hurt you, Ember.” He focused his harsh and demanding gaze on hers. “It’s just the reaction. You’re not in any danger from me.” He continued to study her, and after her body relaxed, he pulled her into his arms.

She relaxed into his body again and yawned in her exhaustion. “You’ve had a long day, it’s late, and I wouldn’t mind sleeping myself after all the fun we’ve had.” She didn’t need to see the smirk on his lips to sense it, and it sent a pleasant pulse of warmth through Ember’s body that settled in her womb, and as her body responded to his words, he inhaled and spoke again. “Don’t even think of it. I’ve done enough damage to your body for one night.” Ember’s gasp was all the response he needed. “Such a delicious scent. Now go to sleep.”

Nodding her response to his words, he tightened his hold on her body and nuzzled his mouth against her neck. His skin was comfortable but odd to her senses, and she drifted away with images of him in her mind.

Chapter 4

Waking next to Ember’s warmth was perhaps the happiest Truman had felt in longer than he cared to admit. He was without doubt dreading leaving her once again, and though he’d never be able to stay away from her permanently, he would miss her every moment he was away. It didn’t help he’d be close and watching. It didn’t help at all. He was only truly content when he was in her presence, and she knew he was there. Hiding himself from Ember was painful, and now, having finally made love to her, it would be damn unfair to them both not to share this time together.

As the first of the morning sunlight filtered through the trees that surrounded Truman’s hidden home, he watched her rouse. He never tired of watching her, and this morning was more incredible than any other. First she murmured in her sleep, and her body started shifting; then she stretched and yawned, and her eyes slowly blinked back to wakefulness. When she finally breathed a deep sigh of contentment and rolled to face his body, she smiled with a sweet, shy expression that went straight to his groin.

“Good morning.” Her words sounded warm and intimate, and he wanted her instantly. The sweet scent of her still-lingering blood erased any chance he’d be indulging in her again. She must be sore, and while he basked in the knowledge it was solely due to him and the liberties he’d taken with her body, he also felt a degree of guilt. He’d be leaving her again soon.

“I should take you home.” Her face fell momentarily before she forced a smile and sat to the side of the bed. Her back was to Truman, and he reached for the soft skin of her hip, pulling himself up behind her. He cupped her breasts with his hands, slowly kneading the supple skin and pinching her nipples lightly. When he moved his hands down to her stomach, her arousal hit his senses. He kissed her shoulder, running his tongue over the sweet skin tinged in her scent. He could do this with her every morning and never tire of her, but it was time.

After standing, he pulled her to her feet and into his arms. When he kissed her mouth, he plunged his tongue into her warmth and caressed. She returned the favor and delved into his mouth as well, stroking and tasting every last ounce of his flesh. His teeth were retracted, and it was safe for her to explore. He was also in no hurry to part from her, though dragging it out would make it no easier. He was in love with her. He shouldn’t be. He had no business being so obsessed with her, but he was. His existence wasn’t compatible with hers, and life without the knowledge of him would be so much safer for her, not to mention easier. It stabbed at his dead heart with a pain he usually associated with the living, but there it was: the human side of him that refused to die with his body. He loved her, and he had to let her go once again.

On the ride to her mother’s house, he stroked and caressed the skin of her hand. She sat close by his side, but her mind was somewhere else. He knew she was dreading returning to the reality of her mother’s death. She may have known for nearly a year that Katherine was dying, but nothing could make this loss easier. Truman had lost both of his parents early in life, and his sister as well, and he still recalled it clearly; the pain was still easily felt if he allowed his mind the time to remember them. He wanted to stay with Ember—be with her through the torment, but it was impossible. He had obligations in Boston, the same obligations that always pulled him away from her before he was ready and left him bouncing back and forth from his life there and his need to watch her in Portland.

When they walked into the house, he clasped her hand tightly in his own. He wanted her to feel his strength, but there was little he could really do to make this easier for her now. She sighed a deep and emotionally heavy breath as they crossed the threshold, and tears showed on the lower rims of her eyelids. This was hard for her. Whatever reprieve he’d given her the night before, today was a different story. She stumbled away from him, and she climbed the stairs slowly to the second half story of the small Cape Cod her mother had owned. Truman’s own mind held more memories of this home than Ember could ever imagine.

After he’d rescued her from the monster when she was ten, he’d found it hard to leave her presence for longer than an hour at a time. He imagined every last awful thing the monster could have done to her, and he feared for her. She became his sister, whom he’d failed so miserably to protect centuries before, and he worried incessantly about her safety. But she was safe, and yet, he couldn’t put his fear away. She never knew he was around, but he watched. Her safety consumed his life, and it was only months later that he finally and painfully pealed himself from her presence, fearful he’d lose his sanity if he didn’t distance himself. But he didn’t go far. He found himself in New York City for years, moving back and forth between Laconia and the city. It was an easy, quick drive that kept him close enough but allowed him to immerse himself in a life apart from her. It did save his sanity, and it wasn’t until his perpetual thirty-six years caught up to him that he’d moved on to Boston. Again, he’d chosen to remain close enough to keep an eye on her, and now he had to return there and say good-bye to her once more.

He followed her up and found her sitting on her mother’s bed. She was crying, and his cold heart clenched to see her grief. He sat next to her and clasped her hand in his, and she tilted her head toward him. “Can you make me forget this?” Her tears were falling now, and her voice was choked with them.

“It doesn’t work that way, Ember; you know that. I’m sorry.” His voice was soothing, but he knew she was hardly soothed.

“Why not? You’ve made me forget you. Why not this?” Her words were nearly accusatory, but he felt no offense.

“I’ve never made you forget me. I’ve just buried the memories and suppressed them, and I can only do it when the memories are linked to me.”

She stood and moved from the room, and his gaze trailed after her. He gave her space, though it was not what he wanted, and when she finally sought him out downstairs in the living room, her eyes were swollen and her cheeks streaked in tears. She collapsed onto the couch at his side and let him pull her into his arms.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was nothing more than a whisper as he stroked her back and held her tight.

“You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m sorry I can’t fix this for you.” His words were true. He’d do anything to ease her pain, but it was hitting her with the full force of its gravity, and it had to. She would heal someday, but it would not be this day.

Pulling from his body and looking to his face, she commented, “My mother would have liked you.”

“She did. We had many conversations about you over the years, and she was very fond of me. She loved you more than her own life.”

“You suppressed her memories as well?”

She didn’t need him to answer this question to know, but he honored her need to hear the response. “Yes.”

Ember swallowed hard over the lump in her throat before speaking again. “Please don’t take these memories from me. Please, I don’t want to forget you again.”

“The last thing I want is for you to forget me or forget last night, but it’s safest for you…”

“But I won’t tell anyone. I swear, just…”

“Sleep.” It was a whisper that broke his heart, and as her eyes fluttered closed, he loathed himself. It was for her benefit, but it wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t what she wanted, and it hurt.

He carried her up to her bed and laid her on the soft quilt, covering her with a throw. He wasn’t ready to leave her, but he had to, and after staring at her for nearly thirty minutes, he pulled himself from her side with one final kiss to her forehead. He would see her again, and she would know him once more.

Chapter 5

Now

The first night of class was always an intimidating one. Taking Western Civilizations II as a senior because she was too terrified to take it sooner was just humiliating, but that was Ember’s predicament. It was literally the only thing that stood between her and her diploma. After her mother had passed away, Ember spent every semester taking an extra class here and there trying to get caught up after losing an entire semester, but when she withdrew from Western Civilization II after struggling through Western Civilization I, she’d given up graduating with her class and decided a summer night class would suit her just fine. It wasn’t as if Ember would have anyone at graduation anyway. The idea of walking across that damn big stage with no one present who even cared about her achievement was almost more difficult to stomach than graduating late due to one lousy liberal arts class she should have been done with in her freshman year four years ago.

Her perspective on what was important in life had shifted somewhat with her mother’s death, and she really could care less that she’d receive her diploma by mail at the end of the summer, but with all that said, she was nervous. Memorizing dates was not Ember’s forte, not in the least, and she had no interest in history whatsoever, not even her own history with all its many memories—it was easy for Ember to develop the jaded attitude that history was to be left in the past.

She took a seat in the front row, determined as she always was on the first night to be a good student, and as others filtered in around her, she pulled her book out of her mother’s old, worn, leather satchel bag and opened it. She wasn’t really reading, but it allowed her to ignore everyone else. She would doubtless be the oldest student in the class, and she didn’t need the reminder of this fact watching all the young freshmen waltz in with their still young and juvenile manners and obnoxious euphemisms. Had she really been so young once too? Ember never felt young, even when she was; she always felt far older than her peers, as though she never learned to relax and enjoy her youth. She had been happy but just … different from the rest.

When she finally pulled her eyes from their dead stare that was registering nothing of what was on the page, she glanced around. Small class. There were no more than ten other students, and a measure of relief flooded over her. It was summer after all and an evening class at that, so she shouldn’t be surprised, but still, the relief was palpable. When the door opened for the last time before class began, it was as the professor entered. Her first impression caused a firestorm of humiliation that had the majority of the class stunned into silence and just a few snickering in their assholiness.

First, Ember choked on her gum with a loud and god-awful hack; second, she knocked her notebook from her desk; finally, after picking up her notebook, she stood up right into the underside of her desktop, cracking the back of her head with a sound reminiscent of a bat striking a ball. Her head was left shooting pain through to her eyes, and as she clasped her hand to the back of her skull to make sure her brains weren’t leaking out, he approached—the very cause of her sudden idiocy.

He reached to her shoulder to steady her where she stood. He placed his other hand on her cheek and stroked her skin with the assurance of someone who had every right to touch her. Ember was a flincher—had been since the monster, but his hand, quite oddly and unexpectedly, didn’t cause even a moment of panic. His fingers were cool and soothing and left images of his body on top of her, thrusting and fucking her. These images didn’t belong to her and yet they were vivid and powerful—so very real. She was left staring with a gaping mouth into his incredible eyes. They were hazel, but with flecks of green and even blue. His eyes were like nothing she’d ever seen, and they glinted as though it was high noon and the sun was reflected in them.

His gaze regarded her in seriousness, and the class around them was forgotten. Ember could feel the heat in her furiously burning cheeks, and his touch only barely helped to calm the flush. She felt as though she knew his touch but couldn’t place it. It was as if his entire person was sitting on the tip of her tongue. When his hands pulled back from her body, it was with a curious flinch of his brow.

“Are you okay?” His words, warm and purring, sounded seductive and left her body tingling with a reminiscence she didn’t understand.

Her nod was the very best she could manage under the circumstances, and as she felt for the desktop behind her and edged back into her seat, he watched her with his eyes glinting. He inhaled a deep breath at her retreat as if he wanted to pull her essence and scent back to him. She had to get a grip.

“Okay. Let’s get started. I’m Truman Solomon, and this is Western Civilization II. I’m a last-minute replacement for this class. I live and work in Boston, and I’m filling in here for the summer. Now’s your chance to grill me, so if you have questions, fire away.”

At his invitation, every female’s hand in the room, minus Ember’s of course, shot up. Eyelashes batted furiously, boobs stuck out, legs crossed and uncrossed, and five or six heads of hair got thrown about. Ember sat quietly watching the whole scene play out but still too mortified to speak. The handsome professor took it all in stride as he answered one question after another. Ember absorbed it all but stayed quiet.

He was an adjunct professor at Harvard who taught the majority of the history classes held in the evening. He was an antique and art dealer by day and bought and sold to some of the biggest auction houses on the Eastern seaboard, including Sotheby’s, Christie’s, Doyle and Skinner. He was not married, and no, he was not gay—yes, one of the floppy-haired pretty girls actually had the nerve to ask. Ember looked up often, unable in fact to stop herself from responding to his warm and soothing voice that invaded her head as he purred out his responses to every last question asked. When she looked, he always looked back. If his gaze wasn’t already on her, it found her quickly and held her own with ease and comfort. Her own naturally faltered every time, as though her eyes were scampering away like a scared puppy.

He was beautiful. There was no question of that, and the images of him doing terribly naughty things to her body wouldn’t stop plaguing her mind. Even when it was her turn to introduce herself to the class, she couldn’t stop the images of her own mouth pleasuring his body from floating through her mind as she met his eyes and willed her mouth to speak. She mumbled through her own introduction, and he refused to take his eyes off hers. When she sat, it was with an absolute refusal to speak, whisper, look up, or even breathe if she could help it for the remainder of the class. Her fantasies continued to toy with her as he reviewed the syllabus, and her body warmed at the thoughts that were so completely invading her mind.

She wondered just how it was that her overly naive brain could create such imaginary erotic scenes, and by the time he released them for the evening, she was certain there was a small puddle on the seat. As she rose to leave, ready to escape the intensity of his presence, he stopped her with his cool touch on her forearm. “Do you have a moment, Ember?” He remembered her name already; her uncharacteristically giddy heart soared.

“Sure.” She actually managed words this time.

As the last of the students filtered out and the door closed behind them, he started his vocal torture again that had her body trembling in want. “I just wanted to make sure your head was okay. That was quite a knock from the sound of it.”

She tried for a casual laugh, but it sounded more deranged than anything, and as her hand shifted to the bump that had formed, so too did his hand. His fingers laced with hers as he felt the same spot, and as his fingers ran over the bruised knot on the back of her head, she stared at his neck, moving her gaze up to his mouth as he continued to touch her. Her breathing was quick and flustered, and their bodies were so close they were nearly touching. She wanted to touch him, she wanted to taste his smooth skin, and as she stood still in front of him, the wetness continued to build. When she managed a glance, his gaze was already trained on her. And when he finally pulled his hand from her head, he took hers along with it, allowing the clasp of their fingers to last for a moment longer than necessary.

“I’ll walk you out.” His words were quiet, and he swallowed over a lump in his throat and looked away.

It was still early summer yet, and the evening was chilly and brisk. Always poorly dressed for the occasion, Ember hadn’t brought a jacket or even worn long sleeves, and as he took in her clothing as they walked from the building together, he commented, “You should have dressed warmer; it’s too cold for short sleeves.” The ease of his words, as though he knew her well enough to make this judgment, left a warmth and comfort in her soul. There was nothing offensive about his approach, but it was odd from a man whom she’d only just met. When they arrived at her old, beat-up Toyota, she looked back along the way they’d come and could have sworn he’d led her to this spot, rather than the other way around, but as he bid her good night and turned from her after one more seductive smile, she dismissed it.

He climbed into a sleek black Infinity SUV, and he watched as her clunker argued with her about starting. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. It wasn’t until she’d pulled from her spot that he put his into drive and left the parking lot as well.

Not until many blocks later and after he turned off on his own side street did she utter her assessment of the night to no one except herself. “What the fuck was that?” Arriving home to her small apartment, she threw her clothes into the hamper and laid down naked on her bed with his image in her mind. She trailed her hand over her shape and contour, and when she reached her warmth, she was slick and sensitive. Finding inspiration and fantasy was no problem on this night, and as her mind gave her all the imagery she could need to feed her arousal, her fingers delved and stroked until she was crying out her release to her empty and lonely bedroom. She wanted him. The usually frigid and wary woman with her damaging past wanted a man. Too bad he was perfection in the flesh.

* * *

Truman had dreamed of talking to her again for the two years they had been apart. They had never truly been apart, but watching her from a distance and checking in on her wasn’t being together and certainly never felt that it was. He was more at ease than he had been since last leaving her. She suffered far more humiliation than he could stand seeing, but her mild concussion aside, he was in heaven just breathing the scent of her body again.

He could have unclouded her mind after the other students had left, but he’d only be forced to suppress her memories once again. He wanted this summer with her. Once a week, she would be forced to desire him and give off her subtle and heady scent of want and need for his pleasure. He would be forced to want her as well, and the agony of withholding her memories would torture him … but he just had to be close. He wanted her desperately to see him and know him. It was the only time he was truly at ease in her presence. He would take whatever contact he could get from her and be glad to have it, but he missed seeing his true self in her eyes. He missed not hiding from her. He missed being accepted by her. He was nothing more than a shadow when he had to hide himself from her.

He had bought an old restored carriage house in the West End neighborhood years ago when Ember first enrolled, but entering alone after spending the evening with her felt more lonely than every last quiet night alone since he’d last had her.

He’d spent their two years apart as he always spent his time: trolling for monsters the world was ready to be rid of and consuming them; teaching, which oddly brought him more satisfaction than nearly every other distraction he used to keep himself from invading her life in the way he wanted to; and dealing. Antiques and art was an easy avenue for anyone of his kind if they cared enough to follow the history of the world as it evolved around them through the centuries. He enjoyed it, he was good at it, and it made him a wealthy, wealthy vampire—just a very lonely one.

He’d not had a single woman in his bed since making love to Ember, and more than that, he’d not had anyone but her from the moment she first tried to kiss him when she was no more than seventeen. Her first sign of interest in him was all it took for him to let down his guard and allow himself to feel what he truly wanted to feel for her—the child he’d watched grow up to a woman. He knew her whole life story as though it were his own, and he felt more close to her than any other person in all his three hundred long years. The most painful part of that equation was of course the fact she had no discernible knowledge of him, and sadly, her life was safest this way. His kind valued their privacy and ability to function in a world that would wish them dead and demonize them were they to know the truth.

Vampires had once terrorized and tormented civilizations of people, but that was a dark past far before his own birth. There was no purpose to destroying innocence, and like many practices of old, their own need to kill and pillage was curbed by their need to be civil. And so, the moral vampire was born. Not moral in the sense of perfection by any means, but moral in the sense that coexisting was far easier and more advantageous than being feared and demonized as monsters. So, they had rules that governed them.

The rules were simple, and while the consequence of breaking a rule was mandated by region and not the world at large, nearly every council that governed a region were in agreement on the rules themselves. The council that oversaw the East Coast region of the United States held stiff punishment for breaking the rules, more so than most other regions. If a rule was broken in his region, the vampire responsible would likely be destroyed. Rule number one: don’t kill innocents; rule number two: don’t turn humans; and rule number three: don’t be known. If an innocent was killed in the Eastern third of the U.S., the vampire would be destroyed in return. If a human was turned, the human would be killed, and the vampire would likely join them. If a vampire allowed himself to be seen, they again risked the life of the human and their own as well. While the rules of the vampire kind protected humans, vampires as a whole would never choose humans over their own protection and secrecy, and great lengths would be taken to protect the secrecy of their existence. The rules themselves were in fact designed to protect the knowledge of their existence from the world.

Truman’s relationship with Ember was inappropriate from the start, but how could he pull himself away from the frightened ten-year-old he’d met naked in a cold, terrifying basement on the day that was supposed to be her torturous death?

He couldn’t live with himself if he jeopardized her life, but he also had to be close to her. And so he watched. He watched her, desperate for her touch, her scent, her body that fit him so perfectly. He dreamed of her and let his fantasies sustain him. When he heard of the passing of her would-be professor, he sought out the position. He didn’t wait for it to post or for the position to be offered to another of the faculty on staff. He offered as a favor, he said, but the favor was to him alone. It hadn’t been difficult. No professor was chomping at the bit to fill in a last-minute evening class during the summer term, and they were thrilled to have a Harvard professor.

What he had truly done, though, was signed himself up for more torture than he could likely handle. He recognized her scent the moment he walked through the door. It was the first time he’d allowed himself to get close enough to her to experience it. When her arousal built at his calculated and well-executed looks, tone, and touch, he took in the sweet and intoxicating smell of her. Even watching her humiliate herself and nearly knock herself out had his heart thudding and racing in need. And when he’d given into his desire and put his hands on her when they were finally alone, it was with the utmost pain and resolve that he kept himself from releasing her mind and letting her see him and what he could give her before fucking her on the desk. He may be a patient man, but patient or no, he was starved for her.

He really was flirting with disaster, but he was in love with the disaster.

Chapter 6

Running into Ember a few days later as she was grocery shopping was no mistake. Of course it wasn’t. Truman didn’t eat, so there was little reason for him to have a basket full of groceries as he rounded the corner of an aisle, conveniently letting her run right into him. As her body met his, he reached to her shoulder to steady her as she nervously laughed. He felt an instant pang of guilt, having tricked her into seeing him again, but his guilt soon melted away as she smiled her sweet and shy smile that made his dead heart come alive.

She was wearing baggy, navy blue jogging pants and a gray T-shirt, with her long brown hair pulled up in a high ponytail. She was as casual as he’d ever seen her out. She’d kept the nose ring all these long years since she’d first gotten it, and it was a subtle hint of her strong fighting spirit. She wore no makeup, and it was obvious she left her apartment with no intention of being seen by anyone she knew. She looked stunning. Her skin looked soft and clean, and he wanted to taste it, kiss it. Her eyes were crystalline blue, and she wore no perfume, which he preferred on her. He was able to smell her skin and her personal scent without the mask of some engineered fragrance. Could he do as he wished with her, he’d want nothing more than to strip her down naked and kiss, lick, and taste every last inch of her body, but as he held her shoulder gently in his hand, he just smiled his subtle smile.

She instantly blushed, and as her gaze flitted from his own, he spoke. “Ember. It’s good to see you. How’s the head.” It had been only a few days since their first class, and he was guessing she still had something of a knot where she’d hit her head. As she reached to the back of her head inadvertently, she scrunched up her face and shook her head in embarrassment. She was just so damn cute, and he smiled as the flush of her cheeks reinvigorated.

“Yeah … I don’t know how that happened. It’s fine… So, you’re … umm … shopping for…” First nodding her head and then shaking her head in nervousness and unfound words. “Food?” Her cheeks had not cooled in the least, and she fanned her face and blew out an exaggerated breath. He was making her so incredibly uncomfortable, and he could smell her adrenal hormones flooding her body as she panicked. He wanted to calm her, but as his hand met her forearm to gently reassure her, she exhaled another calming breath, and he listened as her heart pounded furiously. So much for calming her.

They walked together to the checkout counter, and her heart slowed, and she relaxed at his side. He watched every last item that was pulled from her basket, feeling exceptionally nosy. And he made small talk as his own items were scanned and bagged; it was for no other reason than to keep her from leaving. They walked out together, and as he held her door open so she could load her bags, he watched her bend and stoop, enjoying the sight so much his teeth ached and his groin tightened. Her bottom was incredible, and even in baggy sweatpants, he could clearly see the round cheeks when she bent over. Her ponytail bobbed off to the side of her head and showed the line of the back of her neck as she bent. He imagined his mouth on her neck, trailing his tongue over her skin as he plucked at her small, tight nipples. When she rose and faced him, his gaze moved down to her braless breasts before he could stop it. Her nipples were hard and erect under the fabric of her T-shirt, and when his eyes quickly found hers again, she was watching him with parted lips, and her arousal hit his senses.

He was tormenting himself, and he knew he wouldn’t stop—he couldn’t stop. Not until he’d had her again. Not until she saw him again.

* * *

His next opportunity to see her was at class, and when he entered, she was again sitting in the front row. Her hair was in a loose braid down the side of her chest. She wore a long, fitted, gray cotton jersey-knit skirt that fell all the way to her feet. Her shoes were a simple white deck shoe, and her shirt was a navy V-neck fitted T-shirt with a white cotton zip-up hoodie. She made cotton look so fucking sexy, and a subtle throb set into his teeth that he knew wouldn’t release until she was away from him.

As Truman reviewed the project he was assigning, he listened as her heartbeat accelerated and the scent of her adrenaline soared. She was terrified, and it saddened him, but as much leeway as he may have on many things, the course required a research project and presentation in order to uphold the curriculum already in place. She was nibbling her lip, and her eyes were open wide in worry. The assignment was simple enough: pick a topic relevant to U.S. history, research it, and present it. He wasn’t trying to make it difficult, and when he gave them the rest of the class period to develop their topics and meet with him to get approval and recommendations, all the laptops came out, and the students busily started Googling every last search term they could come up with.

As student after student came up, he struggled to focus on anything but her. She was busily working on her laptop, clacking away at the keys. Occasionally, her brow would flinch, and sometimes her lips would purse. Her eyes would bulge and then she’d shake her head in annoyance. After watching her for nearly a half hour, he’d decided she had more facial expressions than any one person he’d ever met, and he loved every last one.

“So, do you have plans this Friday night? I’ve been thinking we should go out and catch a movie sometime. Might be fun.” It was a freshman named Josh who was speaking to her, and as she looked up from her computer, she smiled nervously.

Having to listen to the kid ask Ember out in front of him was painful and left Truman imagining what it would be like to tear his throat out. Instead, he sat quietly by, listening and sensing the kid’s nervousness. He should be pitied really, but Truman felt no compassion at all.

When Ember responded, his jaw relaxed, and his teeth that had painfully protracted at Josh’s words instantly released their pressure and receded. “Oh, um … I’m sorry. I think you’re a bit too young for me.” Truman chuckled quietly at the irony of her words—how many times had he felt the same way about her? It didn’t stop him from wanting her, or having her for that matter. When she looked up and caught him studying her, it was Truman whose gaze flitted away. Usually, Ember’s nervousness around him scared her gaze from his own, but not on this day. He’d been caught once again watching her. She couldn’t possibly have missed the heat of his gaze or the longing that emanated from his whole being.

The moment Josh moved away, she stood and approached Truman with her laptop in hand. His groin was tight and hard after watching her for the past half hour and witnessing Josh’s rejection, and as she sat at the chair beside his desk, his usually well-controlled demeanor faltered and left him feeling vulnerable. She bit her lip in her own nervousness, and he watched as her white teeth clamped lightly down on the side of her lower lip. His memory was long, and he could still remember clearly the feel of that lip between his own, the taste of her tongue as it explored his mouth, and the incredible sensation of her mouth pulling his cock within her to taste him. His memories did nothing to release the tension in his groin or the ache in his teeth, and as she scrolled through a site she’d found on local eastern seaboard artisans of the past couple hundred years, he saw another opening.

“I own a couple pieces of Samuel McIntire’s furniture in my personal collection. One of them is here where I live. You’re welcome to stop by and see it sometime. Take some pictures if you’d like. I have some of the original documentation that came with it as well. It might help if you narrowed your focus to one particular artisan … but that’s up to you.” His words sounded casual, but his intent was desperate. He had no intention of doing anything to her if he managed to get her in his home, but it was another excuse to keep her near.

“Sure. That would be nice … uhh … fun … err … I mean fine … helpful. Thank you.”

“I’ll be around Friday evening if you’re available.” He knew she wasn’t going out with Josh, and she knew he’d witnessed that little exchange. It was no mere coincidence he asked for that night, and as he looked to her eyes, his brows shot up as he waited for her response, and she smiled shyly, nodding.

“We can drive from here. I’ll meet you in the parking lot at eight thirty then.” She nodded again as she stood, and with one final small smile, she moved away from him and left his senses devoid of her scent and presence once more.

* * *

She was horrified at the prospect of spending time alone with this man and at the same time, more excited than she’d been in a long time. It wasn’t a date of course, but no one would know by looking at the care and detail she put into dressing and getting ready for the evening.

She didn’t want to overdo it, but she also wanted to look nice. She settled on a long, sleeveless, fitted cotton sundress that hugged her skin. It fell to her ankles and was black. She paired it with her white deck shoes and grabbed a gray cardigan on the way out the door. She was certain she paled in comparison to what any other woman would wear in such a situation, but it was the most she could manage on her limited budget.

When she arrived at the parking lot of the school, he was waiting by his SUV. Fuck, he looked good. He was wearing perfectly worn and mildly faded out jeans and a perfectly fitted white linen button-up shirt with the top two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up. His shoes were a warm oxblood leather slip on shoe with a squared-off toe that looked expensive, and as she stepped from her car right into a mud puddle that destroyed her own white deck shoes, she shook her head in exasperation, and he chuckled in amusement. Awesome.

The ride to his home was quiet, and she watched his hands on the steering wheel to pass the time. He had long, masculine fingers. They were clean, and he wore no rings but a rather expensive-looking watch. She was suddenly again plagued with images of his hands on her skin, massaging and gripping her, and as her body flushed with sudden intense desire and wetness spread between her legs, his hands suddenly tightened their clutch on the steering wheel. She looked to him, and his eyes were on her, his jaw was tight, and his nostrils flared as he breathed. Looking quickly from her eyes, he returned his gaze to the road.

His home was in the West End, a swanky, eclectic neighborhood. It was a renovated carriage house, and as he unlocked the door and held it open, she could smell the scent of his home. vzyl It smelled clean and inviting; she entered and looked around. It was immaculate, and it was the perfect blend of historical design and contemporary style. She spotted the small desk almost immediately. She’d been looking at images of McIntire’s designs as she studied and researched her project, and as she approached, he followed.

It sat against a wall in the living room, and it was beautiful. As the handsome professor spoke, her body warmed. “As you can see, it has the bow front drawers that McIntire is known for and the cockbeading along the fronts as well.”

She had no idea what cockbeading was, but she certainly liked the sound of it rolling off his purring tongue, and as her eyes met his with a flush of her skin, he smirked. It was subtle but left her certain he knew his speech had affected her. She ran her fingers across the beading—no, she couldn’t even bring herself to call it cockbeading in her mind without flushing—and as she trailed her fingers over the raised wood, he watched her. She wanted to open the drawers and delve into his personal space, but she didn’t have to be so bold and nosy.

He pulled the top drawer open, and she found it was filled with old books, antique by the look. He pointed out the dovetailing on the drawers, and after closing the drawer, he crouched to point out the detail on the carved legs, and she crouched beside him, watching his hand move along the smooth finish of the wood. When she made to stand, she inadvertently stepped over the hem of her long skirt and toppled forward into him as he stood. He caught her with two swift hands that clutched the sides of her waist, and as his hands remained and her body flushed with want, her lips fell apart and a gasp escaped her.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” He continued to touch her body as he spoke, and she continued to allow his touch with no hesitation. She nodded without speaking, and as his hands finally left her, she took a deep and steadying breath. Following him to the kitchen, she admired his body. His ass looked amazing in jeans, and while they weren’t tight jeans, they did fit, and she could see just how perfectly shaped his bottom was underneath the worn and faded boot-cut style he wore. His shoulders had a strong width, and the skin on the back of his neck was smooth and hairless.

He pulled a corkscrew from a drawer, a wineglass from a cupboard, and set about opening the only bottle of wine on the counter—the only bottle of anything on his counters for that matter. It was a Chianti, her favorite varietal, and as she looked around the kitchen at the empty granite counters, she noted it barely looked lived in. He poured her a glass but did not pour one for himself, and as her brow wrinkled at the prospect of drinking alone, he reassured her. “I’m not thirsty at the moment. Please, go ahead.”

She lifted the glass to her lips as the soothing rich flavor hit her tongue, and moments later, the warmth flooded her stomach before tingling its way out to her body. Thank God for a good glass of wine. Perhaps it would keep her from any more idiotic behavior.

Unfortunately, Ember found out soon enough it would not keep her from accidentally knocking the glass over, spilling the contents, and shattering it to pieces. It also did not keep her from cutting her palm on the shattered pieces as she hastily grabbed for the mess she’d just made. In a flash, he was by her side, pulling her to the sink as she apologized. He ignored her apologies and held her hand under a cool stream of water as the blood washed away from her skin. She was mortified, but looking to his eyes, she saw he was smiling down at her.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“It’s okay. Perhaps if you could relax around me, you wouldn’t be so inclined to trip over your skirt, or break wineglasses, or even … crack your skull open…” His words were provocative. He knew full well her bumbling idiocy around him, even on the first night of class when she saw him, was owed entirely to her response to him. And he was doing a damn fine job of reminding her of that. He was still holding her hand under the water, and his body was close to hers. He seemed not to care about her personal space any more than his own, and at the moment she didn’t either. His fingers moved to the scar that ran around her wrist, and as she held her breath, he touched and caressed the knotted scar tissue left over from the rope restraints of so many years ago. But he didn’t ask any of the prying and inappropriate questions that so many had in her life. Instead, he just touched and stroked his cool fingers along her skin as the water cascaded over their hands.

Her body craved his touch, and his hand on hers was hardly enough. As he turned the water off and grabbed a paper towel to dry her hand, her body continued to trill with need. He held the paper towel tight to her skin, applying pressure to the small cut, and as he continued to share her space, his gaze held hers. He looked as though he wanted to kiss her. She could tell by the look in his eyes and the tongue that passed subtly over his lower lip, and while she couldn’t conceive why, she welcomed his desire. But he didn’t kiss her. He just watched, studying her expression.

He moved from her to find a bandage, and when he left the room, she snooped. She opened a cupboard and found a set of dishes and plates. Another held a shelf full of glasses, but as she looked further, she found little else. There was no food in the cupboards, and as she pulled open the refrigerator door, she found it cold but empty—completely empty. As he returned to the room and caught her nosiness, she closed the refrigerator door and stepped back to the sink, her gaze shifting away from him in embarrassment.

“I don’t use the kitchen much.” He offered no other explanation for the odd empty kitchen, and as the bandage was put in place, he commented further, “Would you like to break anything else? Or perhaps you’d like to take a fall down my stairs?” He was mocking her with a mischievous grin on his beautiful mouth, and as she laughed quietly in response, she shook her head.

“I should probably get going.” It was the last thing she actually wanted to do, but he nodded his head and led her back to the front door and out into the night.

Chapter 7

The next week in class, he was ready to see her again. On the contrary, she looked nervous. As she looked up when he entered, he smiled gently at her, and her cheeks flushed. He lectured, and he met her eyes on occasion. When he finally sat and gave the students time to work on their presentations, he settled in to study her.

She wanted him without knowing who he was to her just as much as she wanted him when she did understand his place in her life, and it was a heady experience realizing her need existed without regard for their long history together. She simply craved him, and he understood that desire very well.

When he dismissed the class and she stood to leave, he remarked as she walked by his desk, “How’s the hand?”

“It’s fine. Thank you.” He knew it was fine by the simple fact he couldn’t smell her blood on her skin, but he wanted to talk to her. When she brushed past him with a shy glance to his eyes, he smirked and then enjoyed her arousal as her body responded. And when he finally got back to his home, he laid on his bed, stroking the hard length of his erection, which was so ready for her it was almost unbearable. He stroked and remembered the night he’d made love to her. He remembered her nakedness; he remembered the feel of her skin, the taste of her wetness, the sensation of her lips pulling his cock within her mouth, and the absolute thrill of pushing his rigid length into her warm sex as her body clenched around his erection.

* * *

The next few weeks passed, and he continued to see her only during class. He didn’t want his stalking to become too evident, but he continued to toy with her every week during their time together—watching her and letting her catch him with his eyes trained on hers, speaking in the voice he knew tended to spark arousal in most women and very especially his woman. He continued to invade her personal space, and she continued to allow it, and when they met every week during the time he’d set aside to keep tabs on the students’ projects, his fingers often met hers on the mouse pad of her laptop, and he never pulled back. She didn’t pull back from him either, and as he would listen to her heart pound in her chest, his cock would stiffen and his teeth would ache. He was in heaven.

On the night of the presentations, a little more than halfway through the summer term, he arrived early. When she entered, he could sense her terror immediately. She had always asked questions. Always. But her nervousness around him was keeping her tongue far quieter than he liked, and she was petrified on this night. He nearly wished he could remove himself from the room so she would be more at ease. Ironically, he was the reason for all her fear, and he almost despised himself for it. He wanted her arousal, but he certainly didn’t want her skittish around him all the time.

When he called her name first, it was to allow her to get her presentation over with and relax for the evening, and when she rose, he took the seat next to hers, knowing he’d be allowed to sit next to her for the remainder of the evening without causing any suspicion from the rest of the room. She may suspect his intent, and he thought she likely would, but he didn’t hide his attraction from her, even if she struggled to believe it was possible. That was simply a manifestation of her own self-consciousness. She was beautiful, and he had no difficulty wanting her. But in truth, attraction was the least of his feelings. He loved her, and he knew her true feelings for him, the ones buried deep in her mind, were quite intense as well.

As she took her place and pulled up her PowerPoint presentation, he became as nervous as she was. He wanted her to do well, and he knew she had a good presentation, but he also knew her nervousness might just get the best of her. When she spoke, her voice was shaky and quiet, and he had to ask her to speak up. She looked to him in desperation, and he gave her a subtle, completely inappropriate wink. Her lips curled up slightly at that, and he encouraged her further. “Go ahead. You’re doing fine.”

She muddled through it as he watched. Her voice never stopped shaking, she lost her place a time or two, and he watched her painfully as she swallowed hard over lump after lump that popped up to her throat. When she stammered as she advanced too quickly through her slides and then panicked and couldn’t remember how to reverse to the previous ones, he had to clench his fists tight to keep from jumping up and rushing to her. She was in hell, and he hated that, but once she finally finished and exhaled a deep sigh, he smiled at her and thanked her for going first.

All in all, he had no reason to give her a bad grade. He didn’t grade on nerves, and the content was good. She was smart, always had been, and her approach had been thorough. When she sat beside him, he could still hear her heart pounding, but as the next student readied themselves for their own presentation, he listened as her heart rate slowed and eventually returned to normal—or as normal as her heart ever beat when she was in his presence.

They sat next to one another for the remainder of the class as one student after another took their turn. Not a one was as nervous as Ember, and he spent the entire time wanting to reach out to her, to hold her hand, stroke her skin, and calm her nerves. But he kept his hands to himself and only allowed his calf to touch hers, knowing it would appear inadvertent; it certainly wasn’t, but she didn’t pull away.

Once class was over, he was again aroused and desperate for her, and he once again went home alone and suffered without her.

* * *

“Hi.”

Looking up from her rag on the table, she stilled in recognition. Professor Solomon. He was just as beautiful today as he was on her first night of class. And here she was, without any makeup on and her hair plastered back in a ponytail, holding a dirty washrag. She was pathetic in his presence, and after her performance of the night before, she was feeling ridiculous. “Oh. Hi. Professor Solomon. Umm, how are you?”

“Please call me Truman. I’m well, and you?” His eyes smoldered and twinkled in their beautiful shade of hazel green, and as she held his gaze, her knees weakened and warmth and desire flooded her body. At that very moment, his jaw tightened, and he inhaled a deep and sensual breath that left his eyes fluttering for half a second before he met hers again, and a slight smirk passed his lips.

“I’m good. Thanks.” Her voice was shaking as she spoke, and try as she might, she couldn’t stop the flood of wetness from soaking her underwear.

“So, I haven’t asked you this before, but I’m curious, you’re a senior taking a liberal arts class. Seems unusual.”

“Uh … well, I struggled with Western Civilizations, so I just put off taking the second half of it.”

“I know. You apparently withdrew from this course twice already before now. Your records indicate you’re a great student, so what is it about Western Civilization, I wonder, that so disagrees with you? I mean, aside from your terrible stage fright, you did a great job on your presentation.” His eyes still smoldered, his expression remained intense, and his nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply.

“Oh … I don’t know. Guess history’s just not my subject. The professor who taught Western Civ, and who I thought was going to be teaching this section, is a curmudgeonly old man who has never liked me much.” Ember felt the heat of her blush rising to her cheeks at her unrestrained words. She was nervous speaking with him, but she recognized she sounded more herself speaking her mind. This was her—unrestrained mouth that couldn’t be stopped when it likely ought to, and at her words, he smiled. He apparently didn’t care too much she was driveling on.

“Ah, yes. The good professor died a week before the summer term started. That’s why I’m here, filling in for the summer session until they can hire a full-time replacement.” Ember’s mouth dropped open in mortification, and Professor Solomon chuckled at her response.

“Oh, God… I didn’t know… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. He wasn’t my kin, and I’m guessing if you call him curmudgeonly, he likely was exactly that.”

“So, how is it you came to take the position? I mean, you’re a Harvard professor in the history department, and this is just, you know, Portland.”

“Well, I happen to like Portland, and I spend a lot of time here. Seemed as good a place as any to spend my summer.”

“Do you have family here?”

“No.”

“So, why do you spend so much time here? I mean you have a house here. Just seems odd for a man with no family in town.” She was getting into that annoying incessant stage of her questioning, but having gotten through the terror of the night before, she was suddenly far calmer than she had been recently, and when she started asking questions, she couldn’t seem to stop until her mind was once again at ease. She had always hungered to know anything and everything she possibly could know about things that were often none of her business—such as why this complete stranger would spend his time in Portland.

But as he smiled, there wasn’t a trace of annoyance. “It’s a great place to people watch. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Umm. Sure. I guess. I … uh … better go. My shift’s over in fifteen, and I have to finish some things up before I can get out of here.” In truth, she could have asked him endless questions, but she was trying to stop herself before she annoyed the hell out of him. He had to put up with her for the remainder of the term, and as much as he seemed to enjoy being close to her, she’d rather hide her crazy from him at this point if at all possible.

As she turned from his table, she caught the view from the large window, and her face fell at the sight of the still-pounding rain that had been going from light drizzle to all-out deluge all morning long. It’s going to be one hell of a walk home in this.

The handsome professor continued to watch her with interest. “You drove, I assume?”

“Oh. No, I just live a few blocks from here. I … walked…” She returned her eyes to the downpour.

“Why don’t you let me drive you home?”

“That’s not necessary. I’m sure it’ll let up.”

“And if it doesn’t, a ride?” He eyed her intently, waiting for her response.

“Sure. Yeah. Thanks.” Ember waved a timid hand at the beautiful man and turned to return to the kitchen. It had to stop raining. Ember wasn’t at all sure she could handle riding in this man’s car alone with him again. He made her salivate, and as she walked from him, those images that had been plaguing her all semester were once again in the forefront of her mind. She suddenly couldn’t shake the image of fucking him. Odd that such graphic images could come to mind when she’d never even experienced such a thing. Yet her mind was vivid with images of him.

She could see his body, every inch of it down to the size and breadth of his incredible cock. She could see him thrusting and pushing into her. She could feel the rush of an orgasm taking her over, and she could see his own face as he released himself within her body. These images did not belong to her, of that she was certain, but as she rounded the counter and looked back out to him, she trilled and coursed with need; very recognizable need.

When he caught her watching him, he gave her a warm smile that felt seductive and flooded her with want again. Her eyes flitted from his in embarrassment, but when she glanced back he was inhaling deeply again with his lips slightly parted. Two teeth glinted in the light of the room and caught her attention, but as he met her eyes, his lips closed and his jaw tightened. It must have just been the light reflecting off his perfect white teeth.

Ember retreated to the kitchen for the remainder of her shift, and when she returned to the counter on her way out, she discovered he was gone. She felt relief in one moment and then dread in the next as the wall of water outside was all that could be seen. Ember hadn’t brought an umbrella that morning, and as she grabbed a newspaper from the counter, she rushed out the door to the waiting shower. Before she even managed to step out from under the overhang, he was there with an umbrella in his hand, waiting for her to join him. He wrapped an arm around her as he pulled her close to him and out into the downpour. They only had ten feet or so to go to approach his waiting SUV at the curb, and as he opened the passenger door for her, he kept the umbrella over her the entire time. She sank into the warm leather interior and inhaled the smell of his personal space while he rounded the car to the driver’s side. She recalled the night he’d driven her to his home, and the smell of his car reminded her of her intense longing and attraction from that night.

When he climbed in next to her, he tossed the umbrella to the floor behind her seat and looked at her. She was remarkably dry, though he hadn’t been so lucky, or had she been lucky? He looked amazing with water droplets in his hair and showing on the lapels of his jacket, so much so she could hardly look away from him as her body betrayed her once again. She was suddenly far more female than she recalled ever being in her life, and as he looked at her, he sighed. She understood nothing of this man’s responses to her, but she excited with every moment in his presence.

He pulled from the curb and out into traffic, and she spent this time remembering the feel of his leg against her own the night before. He hadn’t pulled away, and while she knew it wasn’t deliberate, she couldn’t quite riddle why he’d not pulled away. There were times he seemed to be studying her. His wink when she was fighting her terror the night before left her body trilling with warmth but confused. His eyes often looked at her seductively, and she watched him interact with other female students without any hint of that same gaze or the same closeness of his body. He never touched them, however innocently as he touched her, and he had certainly never winked at another of them. She felt he longed for her as much as she longed for him, and yet, it was impossible.

As she guided them the few blocks to her apartment, he was quiet. When they arrived, there were no parking spots, and his effort lost its goal. They ended up parked more than a block away, and as he grabbed the umbrella and rounded the car before she could assure him he didn’t need to walk with her, her heart started pounding again. He once more pulled her body close, and they hurried to the door of her apartment building. Her building was an old brownstone, and the narrow vestibule ended up being a bottleneck as he held the door open. At just that moment, another couple, paying no attention to anyone but each other, pulled the interior door open, and as Truman pushed her body up against the wall within the tight space of the vestibule to keep the other couple from careening into her, she was left gasping for breath. She could feel the full length of his rigid erection against her stomach. Her breath lurched and shuddered in her shock, and he studied her. The other couple squeezed past them, but he remained firmly against her body.

She was flushed with inappropriate excitement, and as he held her gaze and pushed against her body, he spoke. “Ask me up. Please.” His voice was warm and purring, but needy and as desperate as she felt.

She nodded before she finally found her voice and croaked out the words, “Will you … come up?”

He followed her in silence, and her heart continued to thud away. As she reached for her doorknob with her key in her hand, his hands moved to her shoulders, gripping her. When he lowered his mouth to her neck as she tilted her head and her hair fell to the side, his lips caressed. He moaned as he touched her skin with his mouth and sucked a gentle kiss on her neck. When his tongue trailed up to her ear, flicking the lobe, his voice purred out to her. “Ember.” Her hands were shaking, and getting the key into the lock was suddenly the most difficult thing she’d ever done.

He trailed his hands down her arms and out to help her fingers, and as he took the key, he slid it into the lock with a soft click and pushed her in with his body as he opened the door.

When she turned to face him, he attacked her mouth with his lips and thrust his tongue between her lips as he pushed them back toward her bedroom. She stopped him at the bathroom and grabbed the unopened box of condoms that had spent the last two years under her bathroom sink. He smirked as her cheeks burned with heat, and he lifted her easily to straddle his hips before continuing to her bedroom. He laid her gently on the bed as she looked up into his beautiful eyes. He pushed his groin harshly into hers, grinding his pelvis against the warmth and wetness pooling there. He left no question he wanted her as his hard length pushed against her sex.

When Ember reached for the button of his trousers, he didn’t stop her. He watched and waited, and as she started undoing the button, he pulled himself up to kneel between her legs. She sat as she worked the zipper down, and as his length strained against the fabric of his underwear through the parted zipper, she lifted his shirt to expose his stomach and leaned her mouth to the space beneath his belly button. His skin was cool and soothed her lips as she brushed them against his skin. As she kissed, she pulled the pants down along his hips and moved her hands around to grip the tight, round cheeks of his bottom. His body was hard with well-defined muscle, and as she caressed, he sighed and moaned above her.

Ember moved her mouth to his hip as she eased his underwear down. She was nervous, but she was so ready for this man after weeks of want and need that she pushed it aside easily. As she exposed his slightly jutting hip bone, she kissed around it and ran the pad of her thumb over the subtly protruding bone. She pulled the underwear further down, and as she did, she looked up to his eyes. They were watching her, and she caught the quick glimmer of two teeth as he closed his mouth. She flinched in confusion at what she thought she saw, but he reached down to her cheek, caressing lightly, and her confusion was stowed along with her nervousness. She pulled the waist of his underwear out and down, exposing his thick, hard length, and as she took in his incredible length and breadth, she gasped. He looked exactly as she imagined in her mind and left her certain she knew his body, but of course she didn’t.

Her heart had yet to stop hammering, and as her fingers made first contact with his shaft, he groaned loudly and moaned. He was incredible. She traced her fingers over his skin as his cock flexed and moved. She traced every line and vein before lowering her mouth to taste him. She was terrified of what she was doing, but as her lips touched his flesh, she again easily put her fear aside and sucked. She pulled as much of him between her lips as she could before pulling back. He took her cheeks with both hands, and as he held her head steady, he pulled and thrust into her. Most women would find it offensive, but she loved his possessive strength. His movements were so very controlled, though his eyes looked anything but, and as he asked her to lie back on the bed, he followed her body and thrust into her waiting mouth once more.

He pulled from her mouth entirely after a few strokes, and after watching her for an overly long time as his cock rested against her cheek, he guided it back to her lips with a steady hand, and she licked the head, dipping her tongue into the slit that tasted of iron and saltiness. He moaned again before plunging back between her lips and thrusting shallow, gentle strokes.

She watched his eyes as his breadth filled her mouth and distended her lips, and when she thought he might be coming close to losing control, he pulled swiftly from her and moved back down her body, pushing his body between her legs. She could feel his shaft, wet with her saliva, snug against her pants, and when he leaned to her lips and kissed her, he ground into her pelvis again. She wanted out of her clothes desperately, and as her pelvis pushed up to meet his, he got the hint. He pulled himself up to his knees between her legs, eased the zipper of her pants down, and undid the button. He moved her right leg over to his other hip so both of her legs were on one side of his body, and as he rolled her body to her side with a strong hand on her hip, he leaned down to her side where he was pushing her shirt up and kissed, licked, and traced trails with his tongue over her skin.

He finished rolling her completely to her stomach as he slowly lowered her pants and underwear down her body. He exposed her bottom to him and trailed a hand down over her buttocks before he stripped her pants from her body and tossed them to the floor. His pants were still around his hips, and as he stood beside the bed, it was to drop his trousers to the floor. She watched with her head resting on her arms, and she waited for more touch. He eyed her seductively before taking his place to hug her body from behind. He straddled her thighs right below her bottom, and the full length of his upper body was against the back side of hers, and his cock was nestled between the cheeks of her bottom. He wriggled her shirt up and over her head before his mouth dropped to the vertebral prominence at the base of her neck. He kissed, sucked, and let his tongue linger and roam over her skin.

When he moved his body down along hers, his cock trailed its own path as he moved, and he kissed every ounce of skin as he descended along her body. At her bottom, he clutched, grasped, and squeezed the roundness, before his lips once again kissed and licked. His thumb delved between her cheeks as he gripped a cheek hard and exposed her tightest and most private entry. He blew lightly on her skin there, and it tickled an incredibly erotic tickle that innervated her entire body and begged for more of this touch. He apparently had other things in mind, and as he pulled his body up to his knees, it was to help her roll over to her back again before he sank his bottom down to sit lightly on the tops of her thighs just below her sex. She was pinned down by his weight, but she wasn’t frightened in the least. He trailed his hands up her hips to her stomach and massaged her belly as she watched. One of his hands abandoned her stomach, and it moved to his cock, where he stroked the length, rounded the head, and then stroked back down. He touched himself, and he watched her watching him.

He leaned down to her, and as he kissed her lips once again, he moaned lightly as he plunged his tongue into her mouth. Every inch of skin on her body was crying out for his touch, and when he released her lips, he spoke as he studied her. “You’re safe with me, Ember.” She had no reason to believe him, but she did. “My God, I’ve wanted you for so long.” Again, she had no reason to believe this was possible, but she did believe him. When he moved his body down along her front side, he stopped and tormented her nipples as he lightly blew on her skin again, flicked her nipples with his tongue, and then laved every ounce of flesh outside of her nipples. He left them begging for more, but as he kissed his way down to her belly, her nipples were forgotten and her clitoris started begging.

It didn’t take him long to part her slick, wet folds with his fingers and lean his mouth to her sex, and as the cool touch of his tongue hit the superheated skin of her vagina, it was her turn to moan uncontrollably. She couldn’t stifle the moan that escaped her lips, and when he looked up to her eyes as he pulled away, he smirked, and she did beg. “Please. Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I won’t let you want for anything—least of all me.” With his seduction spoken, he leaned to her again. He sucked, he licked, and he kissed her tight nub of nerves into a frenzy, and just when Ember thought it couldn’t get any sweeter, his finger pushed slowly within her tightness, and the moans turned to groans that overpowered her throat and any ability she had to stifle them. She spread her legs wide open, and as he pulled his mouth back, it was to watch as he fucked her gently with first one finger and then another. She could feel the wetness of her body accept two of his masculine fingers, and she wanted more. His mouth moved back down, and he latched to her as his fingers continued to thrust and invade her wetness.

When she came, she cried out, and when he pulled up to hover over her and take in her face, his fingers still pushed and pulled and stroked and explored. “Your tight warmth feels so incredible clamped down on my fingers. Are you ready for me?” She only managed a nod as he eased his fingers from her body, and she pushed her legs even wider. He sat back on his knees once again, and after grabbing the box of condoms that lay next to her, he opened it with a smirk playing on his lips. She watched as he tore the packet open, and looking at it somewhat curiously, he placed it on the head of his penis and rolled it down his length. When he leaned his body back down to hers, his cock pushed against the lips of her sex, and as he pushed, he slid the length of his shaft between her wet lips. The touch innervated her clitoris again, and as he glided between her lips readying himself to invade, she tried to calm her breathing and relax her muscles.

He nudged as he watched her, and when he pushed past her lips and into her passage, her muscles quivered and pain shot through her pelvis. She felt beyond full as he pushed farther and farther to her core, never taking his eyes from her. She cried out at the painful invasion, but he kept pushing to her center and didn’t still until he was buried to the hilt within her body. Once there, he paused and watched her, he kissed her, stroked her cheek with his fingers, and he waited. He was still as a statue within her body as she adjusted to the feel of him. It was a painful, deep ache in her gut, but his eyes that held hers with a serious and intense gaze turned her on so incredibly that she relished the pain, knowing his deep penetration was the cause. Watching as she released a calming breath, he eased back out. He lingered at her opening for a moment before pushing back in again, slowly but surely, to her depths and then waiting again for her body to accept him.

When he retreated once more, it was only long enough to start stroking in and out of her body, penetrating and then retreating, pushing and pulling, and as her body released its tension and her arousal mounted, his thrusts quickened and the power behind them built to a demanding pace. He pounded, forcing her body to accept all of him, and she did as her orgasm built to near-explosive power, and with one final painful invasion that consumed her body, she came, and he did too. It left them both collapsed together, and as he rolled from her body, he pulled her desperately into his arms and held her tightly.

She listened to the odd sound of his heart. It sounded strange, but she didn’t know why. Perhaps too slow, uneven, and off in some way, but as he pulled her face up to his, she forgot the oddity of it and let him kiss her. His lips were cool and soothing against her own, and she gave him every last taste of her mouth he wanted. She listened to the rain pouring outside, and she relished the private and intimate feel of what they’d just done.

She drifted away to the land between consciousness and sleep, still with visions of making love to him running through her mind. These visions were different than today though. They were a different time, a different bed, a different and yet amazing experience. For some reason, her mother’s death came to mind, and as it did, the morning after her burial floated to the front of her consciousness. She’d awoken in her bed dressed in a nightgown, but not remembering anything of how she’d gotten there. Her body was sore, much as it was right now, and a throbbing pain was pulsing through her groin. And yet, there was no memory to support her pain.

She’d risen, not wanting to face the depression of losing her mother but confused and disoriented. She had remembered nothing of the day before except sitting by her mother’s coffin in one moment and then waking in her bed the next. As she’d sank into the bath, the burning and searing pain in her groin had stabbed her senses and left her gasping as her body adjusted to the warmth. When she was bathed, she dressed and decided she should see a doctor, but as she’d backed her car from the driveway, she’d stopped, and with a shaky laugh that showed her confusion more than any humor, she’d commented to no one in particular, “You’re crazy, Ember. They’ll throw you in the loony bin.” She’d pulled back into the driveway. She never found the missing time, but she was reminded of it now for a moment before she finally fell off to sleep to the sound of the rain beating her window pane.

* * *

He watched her sleep and breathed her scent. The slightest tinge of blood clung to her body, and he wanted to taste it again, but he wasn’t going to wake her. He recognized the feel of her the moment he felt her body along his in the vestibule, and that was the last moment of restraint he had until he’d released himself within her body. Condom. That was laughable were he not more than willing to go along with the socially acceptable and safe approach to sex she had. He just wanted her. It didn’t matter that he could make love to her a hundred times in a month and not worry about impregnating her, but he wasn’t willing to have that conversation with her at the moment.

He hated withholding himself from her, but it was safer. His kind valued their anonymity, and it wouldn’t take long for them to figure out a living, breathing human was harboring far more knowledge of them than they were comfortable with. Vampires as a whole were watchers. They studied the movements of humans as much as each other, and Truman’s attachment to the human hadn’t gone unnoticed. He’d protected her by withholding himself from her or wiping her memory of him quickly.

One night, perhaps even one week, of her knowledge of him was likely safe, but the longer the knowledge lingered in her mind, the closer they would draw to her and the more danger she would be in. He wasn’t willing to give her back his memory just to be forced to take it once again. He couldn’t stay away from her, and so, he had to do it in this manner if he was going to be with her—hiding himself but indulging in her. She would come to know him as a human, and he would hold her memories in his hand, wishing she could see him, but accepting he could safely have her in this way only. It would be enough. It had to be enough because he couldn’t endure her distance any longer.

After watching her sleep, he woke her with his mouth along her shoulder, and as he trailed kisses down her back, she wriggled against his mouth, and he hardened at the scent of her arousal. His mouth and tongue worked on her body as her arousal continued to build. She was lying on her stomach, and as he eased one of her legs up, opening her pussy to him, his fingers touched and stroked her wetness. At his touch, she hummed her barely conscious approval, and when his finger delved within her silken-wet entry, she pushed her body into his hand. She was waking further with every slow penetration of his finger, but before she was fully awake, he pushed his body between her legs from behind her, parting her knees wide. When he was sure she was fully awake and ready for him, he pulled her up to her knees but pushed her chest to the mattress. Her ass was up, and her knees were parted and ready for him, and as he obliged her completely unnecessary need for safety, he sheathed his body quickly before prodding between the lips of her vagina with the head of his cock.

Her warmth was intoxicating to the coolness of his skin. He loved the feel of warmth—had since the loss of his own life. And her warmth was everything his body longed for. It gripped him in her need, it fit his body snuggly, and it soothed his desires as he plunged and pounded into her tightness. He could see the tight entry of her bottom, and it begged for his touch, though he doubted she realized it. As he stroked one penetration after another into her body, he let his finger wander to her anus. He touched and massaged the tightness without pushing through the tight rim. Her fingers gripped the sheets at her shoulders, and her face that was resting on her cheek moved to bury itself in the sheets as her nervousness at his touch worked through her body. She wanted this touch, but it scared her. He could sense it in the smell of her arousal coupled with the scent of her fear. But he wasn’t interested in frightening her, and as his pace quickened, her tension melted.

He pushed and pulled with a steady but demanding force, and he watched her body take him. He felt like a God as he pounded and she accepted, and it made his cold heart soar in elation … but it was short-lived. He was so in love with her it was nearly overwhelming and threatened to leave him collapsed around her body. It was too much, losing her for two years and tormenting himself with her. And now as he watched his body invading hers, he couldn’t shake the understanding of her mortality. He could imagine her dying as he watched, he could see disease and death taking her, and it left his breath lurching and gasping as the images overcame him. He couldn’t live without her, but he couldn’t watch her age and die from his life either. He was making love to a woman who knew him so well, but whose memory of him was so hidden and buried in her mind that he was nothing more than a stranger. A stranger she wanted so much she was willing to allow him into her body, but a stranger nonetheless. And as he watched himself making love to her body, a guilt he didn’t want to feel overcame him and a dread of her future as well. He pulled swiftly from her body and walked from the room to her bathroom before she could even react.

He stared in her mirror at himself—yes, even he had a reflection—and he hated it at this moment. He was gasping as the panic hit and the pain of his thoughts racked his body. She opened the door and saw his state, and as her eyes bulged in worry and fear, he stammered. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” As she shook her head in confusion at his words, the truth settled into his mind. He had no business being with her. There was a reason they weren’t meant to be together. He would live forever, and she would be one day closer to dying every day he spent with her. He wasn’t doing either of them a favor. “I have to go.”

Chapter 8

She wanted to skip class. Ember wasn’t one to put herself through humiliation if it could be avoided, and she wasn’t ready to see him. As the clock ticked off the minutes until it was time to leave, she vacillated. In fact, the decision wasn’t made until she was standing at her front door with her bag in hand and her jacket slung over her forearm. She dropped both to the floor and slunk away to her bedroom. It had been nearly a week since she’d seen him, but she missed him. She barely knew him, but she missed him as though she’d lost a long-held dear friend that meant the world to her. She didn’t understand her feelings, but she didn’t like them.

She remained in bed all evening, sipping wine and trying to watch TV, but she kept thinking about him. He would be lecturing, and she could hear his voice in her head purring out his inadvertent seduction. He oozed appeal, and she had fallen for it. He’d hooked her and pulled her in, but he was no pariah. He had wanted her, but his actions had never been so lascivious as she was trying to paint him in her anger. She just didn’t understand what had happened.

Her night was plagued by images of him—making love to him, tasting him, the feel of his cool touch against her superheated skin. The same unknown images from another life kept pace with her memories of the week before, and occasionally, the image of the monster came to mind, the image of Todd and the high school party flittered through her brain, and finally and most sad of all, the image of her mother’s death.

When her phone rang at nearly ten, she ignored it. She didn’t know the number, and she wasn’t interested in speaking to anyone anyway. Waking the next morning, she listened to the message … and she cried.

“You weren’t at class tonight, and I can only assume it has to do with me. Ember, I’m sorry. If I could undo what happened and let you go back to your life without me in it, I would. You would happier, and that would be enough for me. But I can’t fix what I’ve done… All I can do is apologize. But don’t miss class again. I don’t want your attendance to suffer just because you’re mad at me. Yell at me, ignore me, hate me for the rest of your life, but don’t hurt yourself. It isn’t worth it. I’m not worth it.” And after a long pause and an equally long sigh, he finished, “I’m so sorry, Ember.” Click, and she cried some more.

Her next week passed as it always did. She worked at the café, she interviewed for a few jobs in her field, and she tried her damndest to put him out of her mind. Her job hunt was a good distraction—the best she could find aside from a bottle of wine to drown her ridiculous sorrows. Not graduating on time forced her to continue working in the café, rather than finding a legitimate job. She’d finished her internship with a local youth shelter just before graduation, and this should have parleyed into an actual career, but instead she left the internship to return to her waitressing gig for the summer, unable to accept any positions.

She would be graduating with a BA in psychology with an emphasis in childhood development. She intended to go into child psychology and hoped to work with traumatized children, either through the city’s child protective services department or through one of the hospitals. She interviewed that week alone with two local hospitals and the city, and she’d thought the interviews had gone well. Quite frankly, keeping her eye on her diploma and a job was the only thing keeping her mind from going insane. She didn’t want to see him again, but at the same time, she couldn’t stop thinking about him and wanting him. Desiring a man that did not desire her in return was the most excruciating part. The rejection was a painful punch to the gut that left her barely able to breathe if she allowed herself to think about it for too long. Being forced to see him again was just added torture, and as the night approached, even her incessant job search failed to push it from her mind.

When she dressed that evening, it was with a strong need to be confident. Ember didn’t have dressy or sophisticated clothing. She’d always been casual, and even her nose ring and youthful looks had helped her bond with the kids in the youth shelter. It was who she was and who she’d always intended to be, but tonight, it just didn’t seem enough. The last thing she wanted was to look overdressed and out of place, but she wanted to feel powerful, beautiful, and in her need to show her emotional strength in her appearance, she settled on a pair of shorts that fell high on her thighs. They weren’t inappropriate in any way for summer, but they were perhaps a bit shorter than she would normally wear. When it came to shorts, there were two kinds of women in the world in Ember’s opinion—Bermuda shorts women and short shorts women. Ember was usually a Bermuda shorts gal, but on this night, she opted for the short shorts. They were khaki and had a cuff that hit mid to upper thigh. She paired the shorts with a sleeveless navy tank top and salmon-colored wedge sandals. Her long hair was pulled up in a high ponytail with wisps falling down around her face. Grabbing her white cardigan and book bag, she actually made it out the door this week.

She likely still looked demure compared to other women, but it was the best she could do. When she entered, he wasn’t yet there, and her heart that had been pounding since stepping from her car slowed marginally. It did not return to normal as she sat and waited for him to arrive. She took her normal seat and tried desperately to remain calm. She crossed her legs and then uncrossed and then eventually she crossed them again. She opened her book, and then she closed it, and then she fidgeted, and then she fidgeted some more. When the door finally opened and he walked in, she held her breath. He ignored her as he walked to the desk and sat, but his jaw was tight and set, and he looked unhappy.

As a pretty young freshman approached and tried to flirt with him, he answered her questions politely and then sent her on her way with little more than a curt nod, but he still failed to look at Ember. As he stood to lecture, he glanced out at the class and still managed to avoid her completely, and as her anger built and her hurt burned through her wounded heart, she found her voice again—the voice she’d stifled thanks to her puppy-dog, love-drunk, pathetic nervousness.

As he spoke, Ember raised her hand, and she questioned. In fact, she questioned every last detail of Colonial American history, and as he patiently answered every last question that she spoke, his gaze moved from her quickly, desperate to escape it would seem. Amazing how he could go from so intently watching and studying Ember in one moment to avoiding her as much as possible in the next. He looked miserable, and she felt miserable. She was angry, and more than that, she was hurt, and she wanted him to see it.

When he gave the class a fifteen-minute break, he still refused to look at Ember or acknowledge her in any way. She expected anger and irritation after she’d incessantly put him through her own personal brand of the Spanish Inquisition, but she got nothing in return for it. When Josh approached and sat next to her, she smiled as kindly as she could muster in her current state of misery, and when he again asked her out, complimenting how she looked, her heart lurched at the sound of his unwanted proposal, but then she saw his eyes on hers once again. Not Josh’s—his were a given. It was Truman who watched her now, and for the first time all night, he studied her without being forced to.

“Sure, Josh. That sounds nice. Dinner and a movie… Why not.” Why not? Because she didn’t want to! But she said the words anyway as Truman continued to focus on her, and as Josh stood to return to his seat, Truman’s eyes followed him, seething with what could only be hatred. His jaw was clenching and releasing over and over and over again, and as she studied him, his nostrils flared, and he returned his eyes to her. She’d gotten to him, and she was enjoying this little victory for her heart’s sake. As he continued to glare, she gave him one last dose of his own medicine. She winked at him once and then looked away, refusing to look at him again.

For the remainder of class, he lectured on, and what was a cold demeanor became absolutely resentful and angry by the end of the night. He dismissed the class early and left before most students had a chance to even collect their belongings, and as she drove home, she felt finally some measure of vindication. He’d hurt her, and like the immature young woman she was, she wanted to hurt him back for it. She’d succeeded, and it felt good.

* * *

By the time Friday night rolled around, the last thing Ember wanted was to go on a date with Josh. He was far too young for her, and she wasn’t the least bit attracted to him. But it was the price to be paid for her ploy, and as he picked her up at the curb in front of her apartment, she put on her brave smile that usually looked more startled animal than brave, and she sank into the front seat of his car.

Ember rarely dated, but when she did, it was nearly always an older man, at least by a few years. She appreciated the calm mannerisms of a man older than herself, and though she had dreadful nightmarish memories of an older man, they still felt safer to her for some reason. They moved with more intention, they spoke with more thought, and she never felt as though they were being led by their hormones rather than their brains. Josh seemed nice enough, but like most boys his age, he had the look of sexual desperation written all over his demeanor. She hated that look. It was what chilled her body and left her ready to flee from men—from all, that is, but Truman.

He’d looked at her with longing. He showed his want, and he could barely contain his desire for her on the day she’d invited him up to her apartment, but oddly enough, his desire never scared her, and she wouldn’t have thought for a moment of fleeing. Instead she welcomed his desperate touch and aroused needs and matched them with her own. It made no sense to her whatsoever, and sadly, the man next to her tonight incited none of those responses.

Dinner was pleasant enough, the movie was nothing more than an excuse not to speak to him, and as they climbed into his car, he asked the question she was dreading. “Do you want to come to my place for a while?”

His words were hopeful, his eyes were pathetic, and Ember’s skin was suddenly bristling with goose bumps. Hell no she didn’t want to go home with him. “I better not. I have a long day tomorrow.” She had absolutely nothing whatsoever going on the next day. “If you could take me home, I’d appreciate it.” Then feigning a yawn that came out more like she was trying to clear a bug from her throat, she continued, “It’s getting late.”

In truth, Ember was growing wary of his interest. He’d behaved himself, but he leered with too much want showing in his eyes. He touched without her permission, and while his touch was innocent, the desire behind it frightened her. She was patiently biding her time until she could escape him, and as he navigated his car through the streets of Portland, she envisioned herself opening the door of her apartment and smelling her own safe sanctuary. She imagined locking the door behind her, raiding the fridge, throwing on comfortable sweat pants, and relaxing for the first time all evening. She didn’t like this tension, and she was ready to be done with it.

As he pulled to her curb, he stepped from the car, and she inwardly groaned. Ten feet to go, and he was going to make her deny him a kiss. She could sense it coming; there was no other purpose to him stepping from his car, and as she walked hastily to the door of her apartment building, he caught up to her, placed a gentle hand on her arm, and backed her against the entryway as she panicked. He wasn’t being violent or aggressive, he simply believed she would reciprocate, and as his mouth moved to hers before she could stop it, he kissed her. He pushed his tongue past her lips and her body to the wall. She was terrified and panicked, and as she finally found her strength, she put a hand to his chest and pushed him away.

“What the fuck!” His voice was defensive, and she cowered.

“I’m sorry. I’m just not interested.” Her voice was far quieter than she wanted to be, and her fear was evident as her voice wavered.

“Then why the hell did you agree to go out with me? Huh?”

She still couldn’t look at him as her heart pounded away in her chest and her fear rose by the second. He was angry, and while he wasn’t being violent or giving her any reason to think he would, she wanted to scream. She wanted to flee, and she was ready to hit him if he came even one step closer. Such was the life of a victim—she’d lost her perspective long ago in a dark basement filled with shadowy and terrifying memories. Studying psychology endlessly for years had helped Ember understand herself well, but it failed to undo the responses that were so programmed into her. This boy likely didn’t deserve her terror, but he had it, and with every passing second, she came one second closer to having a panic attack that she knew would leave her in hysterics.

She was hugging the wall of the building, cowering, and when he saw just how close she was to panicking, he held his hands up in placation. “Jeez, Ember. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“She told you she wasn’t interested. You should leave now.” As she cowered, his voice purred its soothing and warm, protective statement. When she looked up, he was there. Truman stood between her and Josh, who was now back out on the sidewalk. Josh looked from one to the other of them as Truman held his ground. “Please, Josh. You need to leave.” His words were demanding but gentle. Josh backed away and rounded his car for the driver’s side.

He pulled away from the curb quickly, and as Ember’s gaze followed the car out into traffic, Truman spoke as he walked away. “Good night, Ember.”

“Were you following me?” Her voice sounded mildly accusatory. In truth, she didn’t care if he was; she just didn’t want him to leave.

Turning to her slowly, he studied her. His expression was unreadable, but as he nodded, his eyes flitted away in what could only be embarrassment. Soon they found hers again, and he spoke once more. “I’m sorry.” And with that, his gaze dropped from hers again.

“Why don’t you like me?” Her voice sounded quiet and meek as she spoke, but it had been a long week with this question running circles in her mind, and she had to speak while she still had the strength to.

His brow furrowed, his mouth grimaced in what looked like pain, and he shook his head slowly. He looked defeated and broken, and he still refused to look up. With one final shake of his head, he turned from her and walked away. She wanted to stop him. She wanted to beg him. She wanted to scream at him. His rejection hurt for the second time in so short a time, and as she entered her apartment alone, she tossed on an oversize T-shirt and collapsed on her couch. He followed her. Why? She must mean something to this man, but what it could possibly be, she couldn’t fathom. And as she started to drift off to sleep, there was a knock at her door, and she rose.

* * *

Even as he knocked he was wrestling with the decision to return. It wasn’t a decision at all. It was desperation—plain and simple. He shouldn’t, but he had to. She couldn’t feel hurt by him, not him. She couldn’t feel the sting of his rejection because there was no rejection. He accepted every last thing about her, and she’d accepted him once too. It was the most hopeless feeling in the world, knowing he’d lose her someday, knowing she could never see him the way he wanted her to, but as his hand rose to her door, he was suddenly calm and coursing with need. He’d deal with her mortality later, he’d cope with never being able to show himself to her some other day. Right now, he just wanted her.

Watching her all night was painful and at the same time arousing. He could tell she didn’t like Josh, and with every forced smile and contrived response his ego pulsed. She wanted him, not Josh. She needed him and no one else, and he knew exactly what that felt like. He may as well hold a white flag in his hand because he was done fighting it. He couldn’t last another day without her, and he couldn’t go one more moment without letting her see just how much he “liked” her; it was her question, and he intended to answer it.

When he knocked on her door, his heart lurched. He listened as she approached, but she didn’t open the door. Instead, he heard the nearly imperceptible sound of her shifting around nervously as she looked through the peephole. He waited as long as he could bear before letting his gaze shift up to the peephole, knowing she was watching. A moment later, the door was pulled open. She was wearing nothing but an oversize T-shirt that looked five times too big on her small frame. Her hair was up in a high, messy ponytail, and she’d washed the makeup from her face. Her stunned expression lasted only a moment until she found her voice and her confidence. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have anyone else to stalk?”

And as he stepped toward her and into her home, he responded, “Just you.” Her mouth fell open again, and as it did, her arousal emanated from her body. She was wet for him already, and he yearned to touch it.

“I don’t want you here.” Her words were a lie; her body’s response said it clearly enough.

“Yes you do, but say it again, and I’ll leave.” His words were true, and they were meant as a threat. Not a mean one—he had no intention of pushing her to his will—and if she wasn’t willing to give into her desire tonight, he wasn’t going to coerce it out of her. He wanted her ready, willing, and open. He wanted her to let go of the pain and resentment, and while he knew he was the cause of it, he would not negotiate on this fact. She’d been pushed too many times in her life and had her strength and will challenged and taken from her. He would never be the man to do that to her regardless of how much she wanted him.

Her mouth opened, and the look of defiance that passed her face left him convinced she was going to stand her ground and he would have to leave her, but as quickly as her anger flared, it faltered, and tears broke free from her beautiful crystalline-blue eyes. He pulled her into his arms as she crumbled, and he pushed the door closed behind him. He held her tight to his chest and whispered in her ear, “God, I’m so sorry.” And then he attacked her lips, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as she moaned.

He had her up against the door within moments, bracing her body with his own as she straddled his hips. Her breathing was desperate, and his body was on fire in his own need. He freed his cock with one hand as he held her body up with a strong arm around her hip and under her bottom. The moment he dropped his pants to his ankle and yanked the fabric of her underwear aside with his hand that held her in place, he plunged into her body as she cried out. He pounded into her body as he continued to support her with one arm. He used his free hand to push her knee out wide. She was moaning and mewling, gripping his shoulders tight as he pounded and thrust into her body violently. Her nails dug into his shoulders through his shirt, driving him farther. It was only when he sank to the floor on his knees that she loosened her grip on his shoulders and quickly stripped his shirt off over his head.

He sank back to sit on his calves as he used his thighs and buttocks to push and drive his arousal into her body. His ankles were still restrained in his pants, and she was straddling his body with her legs wrapped around his hips, pushing his pants and shoes from his feet with her feet. He paused momentarily as her feet worked, and he took in the tears that were still in her eyes and drying on her cheeks. When his pants and shoes were finally free, she braced her toes against the soles of his feet, and she used her purchase to clench her sheath tightly around him. It brought him close to orgasm, and he drove into her body again as her muscles kept tightening around him. He moved his hands down to the cheeks of her bottom, and he gripped her harshly and held her firm as he pushed one deep and swift penetration after another into her pussy. She was whimpering against his neck, and when he dipped his fingers between her cheeks and pushed his middle finger into her anus, she pulled from his neck and held his eyes in shock as he continued to thrust his cock into her. He held her hip and bottom still with his hands and kept his finger buried in her bottom as he fucked her.

She was panting and gasping with every drive of his cock, and when she finally came undone, she leaned back against the door behind her, and he eased her body down to the ground, plunging in and out of her body as her thighs gripped him around the waist. Just as his orgasm overpowered him, he pulled from her body, and he ejaculated on her T-shirt that was bunched up between their bodies. His body was lurching and spasming as he came, and her lips were trembling and her breath was coming in raspy gasps as she watched him.

Her creamy cum had seeped from her pussy in her release, and as it trickled a small path to her anus, he used her lubrication as he slowly moved his still-buried finger within her bottom. He was gentle, and as her breathing slowed, she watched his eyes as his finger penetrated and withdrew. Her lips were parted, and with every push, she gasped and moaned quietly. She was arching her back as his finger slid through her moisture, and he pushed her T-shirt up to latch his mouth on her breast. When he finally withdrew his finger slowly, he released her breast, and she dropped her back to the floor. Her hands moved to his cheeks, and she gently pulled his mouth to hers.

He loved her lips. They left his own feeling alive again as their warmth spread to him, and as she latched to his mouth, he plunged his tongue between them. He kissed her with the power of his body behind him, and she accepted the passion and force of it. When he pulled her up and lifted her into his arms, it was to carry her back to her bathroom and start the shower. He held her in silence under the hot jets of water, kissing her shoulder as she snuggled up to his chest.

When he finally got her into bed, she nuzzled into his neck, and she was quiet and still in his arms as he soaked in her warmth. But as replete as his body finally was after a week apart from her, his mind was spinning, contemplating.

Truman was thirty-six when he transitioned, and Ember was only twenty-two. Truman had always looked younger than his years and was more often than not thought to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He would have fourteen years with her until she reached his body’s age, and if he was lucky, he could change his dress enough to fool her into thinking he’d aged during that time. But by the time she reached forty, there would be little hope of hiding the fact he wasn’t changing, and he’d be forced to leave her and break her heart or wipe her memory of him completely. He couldn’t bear to break her heart again; it simply wasn’t an option. But wiping twenty years of their life together would destroy her mind and leave far too many holes in her memory to leave her anything but insane. And when it came right down to it, he couldn’t fathom ever being able to let her go again. He couldn’t let her go for longer than a week now. What Truman did know was that being apart wasn’t possible, and whatever hurdles he had to pass, he would find a way to do it. He would find a way to be with her.

As Truman stroked the smooth skin of her back, she inhaled a deep and contented breath, and he spoke. He asked about her life. He asked about her experiences. He knew all of it, but he wanted to know what she was willing to tell him. She didn’t disappoint. She related every last terrifying detail that she could recall of the monster. She lamented the impact it had on her life and her ability to function like a normal woman. She talked of her mother and her passing, and she sniffled as the memories brought her emotions to the surface. Truman kissed her forehead gently as she spoke, and when she asked of his life as well, he told her the truth, minus a few dates and details. He talked of his own parents, so long dead they were nothing more than dust. He spoke of his younger sister, but failed to mention she’d been kidnapped and murdered by the monsters that existed even three hundred years ago. It was without doubt the reason he chose to devour them today rather than any number of other class of predators in the world. And he spoke of his interests and likes. He had many. He had had three hundred years to explore art and history and music and literature, and he talked about all of it.

When their words finally faded away, she drifted off to sleep, and he listened to her breathing beside him before letting his own mind shut down. He would wake next to her in the morning, and he wouldn’t be away from her side again. He didn’t know how; he only knew he couldn’t be without her again.

Chapter 9

When Ember awoke early in the morning, it was to a nightmare. It wasn’t the monster this time; it was Truman. She had a nightmare he was leaving her again, and odd as it was after so short a time with him, it broke her heart and left her deranged with depression. She heard his voice tell her he didn’t love her, and it destroyed her, but as she thrashed and screamed to wake herself, arms tightened around her body and she stilled at his touch. He was still there. When her eyes slowly opened, it was still dark outside, and his hands were gliding over her body as his lips that brushed her ear shushed her. “You’re okay. I’m here.” And that was the key.

He moved his hands down to her waist and clutched, gently pulling her hips to his. His erection was long and hard between their bodies and as he held her tight to his body, he murmured in her ear, “Make love to me.” As he pulled her up to straddle him, he reached a quick hand to the box of condoms on the nightstand and handed her one. Apparently, he was more conscious this time than last, and he quickly turned the lamp on and watched her with his hands behind his head as she fumbled with the packet. She removed it and with shaky hands, reached out to his engorged penis. He was smirking and enjoying her nervousness, and he reached a hand down and held his shaft erect from his body while she rolled the condom down along his length.

She made love to him as he used her hips to help her move against his body, and he pulled her chest to his. He was intent on keep her lips against his as much as possible, and she groaned out her orgasm against his mouth when she finally came, and he did too, moments after. He brushed his fingers along her skin as she relaxed against his chest, and when he rolled her to the bed, she drifted back to sleep instantly.

Her dreams were decidedly different for the remainder of the night, and when she woke with the sun shining through her bedroom window, she could smell coffee brewing. She found him in the kitchen with his own mug of coffee already half-empty, and he was just making some toast. He poured her a cup and set the toast in front of her as she took a seat. He sat with only his coffee in front of him, and as she ate, she asked if he wanted some. He responded that he’d already had some. He smiled at her across the table, and her lips curled up in response.

“I have to go to Boston today for a meeting at the college. I probably won’t get back until fairly late, but I’d like you to come over if you don’t have plans.” His eyes shimmered in the sunlight from the window and twinkled. She nodded, and as he stood to leave without finishing his remaining coffee, he pulled her to her feet and into his arms. His lips touched her own, and while she was sure she had coffee breath, he had nothing at all but the normal and delicious taste of his mouth. The rest of the world should be so lucky. Even his breath failed to ever be offensive.

He kissed her and ended up setting her on the table, sitting on the chair in front of her and toying with her body for a good ten minutes before he finally left. He stroked, plunged his finger within her body, and tasted, licked, and sucked her sex into ecstasy that left her groaning and gripping the sides of the table as he held her legs out wide and open. As she sat to face him, he leaned to her mouth one last time and then left.

She was in love with him. It wasn’t some confusing quandary to riddle or some anxiety-ridden and unwelcome response to a man. She just loved him. It was simple and easy. Whether he loved her, and she very highly doubted he would after two nights together, was the real question. She wasn’t ready to know for sure, and she had no intention of sharing her feelings with him yet. The details of exactly how she could love someone she barely knew were confusing. She felt as though she knew him. She felt she more than knew him, as though he’d always been a part of her life, and yet, that simply wasn’t true. But it still felt true, just as true and real as the images of him from another lifetime that still flitted through her mind, although she now had plenty to replace them. Those images were as real to her brain as last night was, and it left her feeling she was finally coming home after being parted from her lover rather than embarking on a new blossoming romance, which made no sense of course given he was her first real romance.

* * *

By that evening, she was shaved, plucked, and even waxed, thanks to an afternoon she couldn’t afford at the salon, but he left her wanting to impress him, and while he gave her no reason to think he wasn’t, she certainly wasn’t impressed with herself when she looked in the mirror. Her pubic hair was too plentiful, as were her brows; her hair had far too many split ends; and her feet looked as though she’d run a marathon barefoot.

When she left the house after he called to let her know he was home, she was nervous, excited, and she was bruised. Her feet felt raw from being over cheese grated by the pedicurist, her pubic line was nicely reduced but left her skin feeling bare and sore, and she couldn’t quite get the red patch of skin between her eyebrows to cool and calm. But, hey, she looked like a woman … or what someone somewhere decided a woman ought to look like and then decided to pass along to every man on the planet.

She wore a knee-length sundress that was strapless and stayed up only by virtue of the fact it had to hold little in place. Her sandals were strappy and flat, and her hair was done in loose curls that trailed down her back. She wore a simple headband and very little makeup—you may get the girl to the salon, but you sure as hell couldn’t get the salon into the girl. She had never worn much makeup and found she looked like a freak when she tried to wear it, and so, she kept it simple.

When she pulled into his driveway, he met her and opened her door for her. His hand found hers, and as he walked her to the door, he spoke. “I bought you something today… Actually, I bought you a few things…” He was watching her with a very boyish and mischievous grin playing on his mouth. Ember wasn’t sure exactly how old Truman actually was, but he wasn’t old. That said, he also wasn’t in any way immature or juvenile. But at the moment, he looked downright playful.

When he held the door open for her, it was with a quick wink as she passed by him, but as she moved, he stopped her with a sudden hand to the forearm. “Why do you look like someone smacked you between your eyes?”

His question was legitimate, and as she murmured, “Just a waxing mishap,” he chuckled and let her enter. And as he led her to the kitchen, it was with her hand once again clasped in his, and as she rounded the corner to his enormous kitchen island, there was a candle lit, a gift bag sitting on the counter, another bottle of her favorite Chianti, and a plate waiting for her. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious, and as she approached, he came up behind her with a soft hand to the back of her neck. “Bread pudding from a great little dessert shop in Boston. Best in town, or so they say… I don’t eat … bread pudding that is.”

She looked to him with a smile. “How did you know I love bread pudding?” It was her favorite, in fact.

With a smirk, he responded, “Lucky guess, I suppose. Please eat, or perhaps you want to open the gift bag first?” She thought for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. “Well then,” and handing the gift bag to her, “gift first.” The smirk rose to his expression as he stood back to watch.

The bag was black and the tissue was a dark gray, and when she pulled the tissue out, she gasped. It was clear, with a swirled pattern of raised and molded glass. It looked more sculpture than phallic, but the purpose was clear. The head was bulbous, and it was less impressive than what was attached to Truman, but her skin flushed and burned with sudden excitement and desire regardless.

“Seems a bit … unnecessary … what with your … penis and all…” Duh, but there it was—her mouth doing its job.

He chuckled at her words, but responded nonetheless. “I should have mentioned these were for my pleasure too.”

“You mean, you want me to put this in your…”

“No! Unless you really want to and then we’ll have that conversation.” He was chuckling again. “I want to watch you fuck yourself with it.” His words were well controlled as he watched her reaction.

Returning to the bag, she pulled out a black eye mask that tied in the back with a ribbon, and four long lengths of black fabric. The picture was coming together as her heart rate sped, and as he touched the phallic length of glass, wetness spread between her legs, and he let his breath out in a rush before he inhaled deeply. “And I don’t just want to watch you fuck yourself… I want to fuck you with it as well while you’re tied to the bed and blindfolded.” If she was wet before, she was dripping at this point. “Please eat.”

She sat at the plate, but all interest in the dessert was lost. She picked at it and watched as he touched the phallic glass and toyed with her, not literally, while she struggled to swallow. When she gave up halfway through and offered him the rest, he politely declined and held his hand out. He wasn’t wasting any time, and as she took his hand, he pulled her away to the stairs that led to the second story.

As they reached the stairs, she stepped up the first step, and he stopped her, turning her to face him. “You don’t need to be nervous. You have to know I won’t hurt you, and whatever I do to your body, it is only to give you pleasure. I promise you.” And then he passed her and pulled her along behind him.

Her feet hit one stair after another as she ascended, and with every footfall, her heart pounded, and she gasped for breath. He was walking in front of her, holding her hand tightly, and as much as she trusted his words, though she couldn’t figure out exactly why, she was terrified—so much more terrified than she could likely bear.

* * *

She was nervous. There was no doubt about that. And as much as he wanted to play with her body and watch her pleasure herself, he didn’t want to leave her fearful of him, not him. He’d watched her for long enough to know the experiences of her life hadn’t left her unscathed. She didn’t trust men. He was the only exception he could see in her past, and he wouldn’t lose that. Ironically, he likely had her long-buried memories to thank for her ease at trusting him, even if it was on a purely subconscious level. And Truman had no problem accepting the responsibility of her trust. It was likely why he was so damn terrified as they ascended the stairs.

He’d spent their time in the kitchen doing anything and everything to arouse her without really touching her. He’d toyed with the toy for her benefit alone; he’d touched the gauzy black strips of fabric, running them slowly through his hands. She watched every last move he’d made, and when he’d offered her his hand, she’d taken it, and his heart soared. But he could hear her heart pounding, and he could smell as much fear as he could arousal.

When they entered his bedroom, she paused. It was an impressive room by anyone’s account. The back wall of the room was lined with tall windows and French doors that opened to a deck overlooking the bay. During the day, it was a stunning view; at night, it was absolutely amazing. It was one of the reasons he bought this particular house four years ago, and one of his most favorite fantasies was finally coming true—Ember in his bedroom.

She needed his strength, and however fearful and nervous she might be, she did not need to see his worry. So he stifled his desire to clutch her up in his arms and led her further into his plan for the night. When she stopped in front of the windows that overlooked the bay, he touched her lightly on the shoulder. Kneeling behind her body, he lifted the skirt of her dress to her waist and kissed. He kissed the round cheeks of her bottom as he slowly lowered her underwear down her thighs. She rested her palms on the cool window, and her head sank to the glass as he kissed and licked and sucked along her cheeks. He wanted to delve further, but he simply wasn’t willing to push her that far, so he rubbed and gripped her skin as she breathed against the window. His jaw was already aching, and his cock was stiff and hard in his trousers. He already wanted to fuck her, and he wasn’t nearly done with her body and ready for that yet. This really did promise to be torturous to them both.

When Truman rose to stand behind her body again, he reached for her neck and caressed and rubbed. Her head was still dropped to the window, and he soothed her want and need with his cool touch to the nape of her neck. Soon his mouth replaced his hand, and he licked a light trail along her skin. He could hear her heart thudding away in her nervous excitement, and as he listened and his tongue worked, her chemistry changed, and for the first time, her scent was more arousal than fear. He smiled against her skin as he continued to soothe and entice her. He lowered the zipper of her dress and let it fall to the floor around her ankles, and as he kneeled again, slowly trailing his mouth along her body as he went, it was to slip her sandals from her feet and leave her completely naked in front of him.

As he stood again, he pushed his groin, which was hard and desperate in his own need, against her lower back, and she moaned a quiet and completely inadvertent moan of pleasure at the feel of his body. She turned to him and undressed him too. First the buttons of his shirt, and when she reached his waist, she undid the button and lowered the zipper of his trousers. She was watching his eyes, and there was as much seduction in her movements as there was in his. She was enjoying herself, nerves and all, and he relaxed measurably at her want and obvious arousal.

As she parted the opening of his pants, she pushed them down his hips and dropped them to the floor. He shrugged out of his shirt as he continued to study her, and he smiled warmly. He wanted her at ease with him—he needed her trust as much as he needed her. And when she pushed his boxer briefs down his hips as well and as his cock jutted up between them, she inhaled sharply. His arousal was high between their bodies, and when she grasped his shaft with her fingers, his head dropped back to the window behind him, and he drank up her touch.

Her touch caused a frenzy in his body that left his jaw pulsing and his cock begging for her. As he gently pulled her hand from his shaft, it was only so he could keep himself from pouncing on her before he was ready. His own hand trailed down to her sex, and when he found her newly sculpted pubic region, he smiled. “Is this for me?” She nodded shyly as he touched and stroked the remaining hair and the smooth skin left from her waxing. “You’re stunning regardless, but thank you. I appreciate the thought.” He held her eyes with his own smoldering, heated expression.

When he parted her lips gently before gliding his fingers across her exposed and open sex, she gasped. He moved his hand to her mouth. He wanted her to know just how much he loved this, and as her eyes met his, he spoke. “You can’t believe how hard this scent gets me.” Her eyes fluttered, and her brow flinched as he held his hand to lightly touch her lips and linger under her nose. She didn’t believe his words, but as his other hand guided hers back down to his arousal and he moaned at her touch, her lips parted, and she gasped in her own desire.

Dropping his hand to her hip to clutch and pull her to him, he kissed her. His tongue plunged within her mouth, and he tasted and caressed her. When he pushed her body back to his bed with his own, she didn’t hesitate, and when he asked her to lie down, she didn’t even pause. He’d left the gift bag abandoned on the nightstand, and as he pulled the glass instrument from the bag, she watched. He laid it next to her hand as he dipped his head to her sex to taste her and make sure she was ready. She tasted of her subtle aroused scent, and it set his body on fire. But this wasn’t his final destination, and as he moved up alongside her body, she looked to his eyes with nervousness.

“Will you make love to me after? I just … I don’t want this if it isn’t … about that.” She was damn near stuttering, but he understood her worry. She didn’t want to be an exhibit for him to exploit for his own personal pleasure. He would take plenty of pleasure from watching her, but it certainly wasn’t the whole of it—he wanted her pleasure as much as his own. He would make love to her when it was all said and done because that was what he truly wanted. He loved her, and while he wasn’t confessing it, she needed to know she was more than just some woman he was toying with. God, she had no idea.

“Of course.” His voice was warm and soothing as he reassured her. “I would never do anything to degrade you or disrespect your body. This isn’t a game to me. And this has everything to do with making love to you.” He leaned to her mouth and trailed his lips to her ear before he spoke again. “Please don’t be afraid of me. Not me.” When he leaned back from her, it was to raise the glass cock to her hand. Her chest rose and fell, and her heart pounded its amazing living force within her chest.

“Spread your legs” She did as he asked while he watched in silence. “Now slide it between your lips.” She complied again, and his ego pulsed with masculine power that she controlled entirely. He watched as the glass was coated with her wetness, and as she continued to trail the shaft between the cleft of her sex. There was little question she was ready. “Now … I want to watch you insert it into your pussy.” She placed the tip to her opening and pushed as he watched as it popped past her opening. He was left with his mouth hanging open and his teeth protracting painfully into his mouth. Fortunately, Ember’s own eyes were closed as her head dropped back to the pillow, and as she worked the cock in and out of her body, her heart rate increased even further.

His hand found his cock as he stroked and pulled his length harshly from his body. He wanted to invade and pound into her, but fuck, he wanted to watch her. Her strokes went deeper and deeper as she relaxed and her body’s cum eased the movement. And when she finally came and curled her body around the orgasm that tore through her gut, he kept stroking his cock and contemplated the next phase of his seduction.

As the fabric teased her body when he pulled it over her flushed and aroused skin, she jerked. She was far calmer now that her part was done, and as she pulled the length of the phallus from her body, she laid it on the bed next to her hip. It was his turn to play, and he was more than ready. As he lifted her hand to tie the restraint around her wrist, he stroked the gnarled scar tissue of her wrists before lifting the inside of her wrist to his mouth. He kissed the scar gently, flicking his tongue across her skin. And when she nodded as he lowered her wrist from his mouth, he tied the fabric gently but securely around first one wrist and then the other.

Once her hands were bound and secured to the headboard slats, he moved to her ankles, and she watched him. He gave her more than enough tether on her ankles—he wanted to watch her writhe, and there was no better way for it than her heels digging into his bed, and as his mouth once more found her sex and laved every last ounce of flesh, she did exactly that.

He pulled from her just short of orgasm, and she was left panting and begging with her eyes as he held the instrument. He could still feel the wetness on it left from her body, and he ran his fingers over the cool surface. He wanted to taste it; he wanted to lick every last ounce of her cum from the cool glass, but he didn’t want to come off like some pretentious porn star playing a part for the amusement of the masses. He simply wanted her taste on his tongue.

When he slipped the eye mask across her view, he held her gaze. He loved the trust she showed in him, and with one final kiss to her sweet and delicious lips, he placed the mask across her eyes and trailed his fingers back to tie it securely in place.

He wanted her to enjoy every last moment of this time, and though he was so painfully ready to make love to her, he moved with infinite, slow, erotic movements. He trailed the back of his middle finger down her arm to brush over her armpit. She was ticklish, and as his touch incited a shiver that ran through her body, he leaned swiftly to her nipple, nipping her gently between his front teeth. She let out a cry, but the moment he released his teeth and sucked, her cry turned to a groan, and her stomach muscles clenched. She was going to enjoy this torment.

He trailed his hands down to her sex and teased once again as his fingers glided, plucked, and stroked. When he pushed his finger into her body, she groaned, and he watched every penetration as he thrust slowly in and out. His finger was glistening with wetness, and it was such an incredible sight that his own sigh was released without any control. He pushed a second finger in with the first, and her entry distended with the breadth. He pushed and pulled, enjoying the silken warmth of her body against his cool fingers, and when he finally pulled his fingers slowly from her, it was only to grasp the phallus and glide it between her slick, wet lips.

He held the blunt tip up to her entry, and as he pushed it slowly, her heels dug into the sheets and her hands clenched into fists. The shaft slid deep within her, and as he set a slow and gentle pace, her stomach muscles danced, her heels held their desperate grip on the sheets, and she pulled against the restraints. She was panting and moaning as he stroked in and out, and when she came, her body twisted to the side, needing to curl in on herself but restrained by the fabric. Her orgasm worked through her body in spasms as he continued to stroke, allowing his thrusts to slow and taper off as her orgasm subsided. She was left panting with her mouth open, trying to catch her breath as he smiled in complete and utter satisfaction.

When she relaxed again, he crawled up her body and nestled his cock between her legs. But he didn’t stay long—only long enough to glide a few slow strokes over her clitoris. He continued up her body to straddle her chest with his knees at her armpits, and when he leaned to brace himself against the headboard, it was with his hand on his cock to guide it to her mouth. At the first touch, she jumped. “Open up, sweetie.” And she didn’t hesitate a moment. He thrust shallow, well-controlled strokes between her lips, and as he looked down and watched her, he looked away quickly in fear he’d fall apart far sooner than he wanted to. She sucked, licked, and kept up perfectly with the movement of his hips, and when he was certain his end was imminent, he pulled from her mouth, letting his cockhead rest against her lips. He slowly eased back down along her body and nestled himself again between her legs, and as he forced his body to relax, he studied her.

She was still bound and blindfolded, and as he dipped his tongue between her slightly parted lips, she smiled even as her mouth accepted him. He trailed his lips to her ear and nipped her lobe gently. “Ready to have your hands and eyes back or do you want more?”

“More.” Her voice was quiet and seductive, and his cock that was only marginally reined under control begged once more.

“Very well then.”

He untied both ankles, grabbed the unopened box of condoms he’d bought earlier in the day, and set about following the human rules of fornication. He didn’t mind. For her, he’d wrap his body in latex if need be, but it brought a chuckle to his throat seeing himself put on a condom as though there was any purpose. Unnecessary precautions aside, she heard as he tore the wrapper open, and as she bit her lower lip, it was more than worth it. He was smiling even though she couldn’t see him, and as he rolled the condom down his shaft, he leaned to hover over her body. He pushed her legs out wide and used the tip of his penis to nudge against her vagina. She was wet, and her scent was sweet and ready.

As he pushed slowly into her body, he watched her mouth. She licked her lips, bit her lower lip, gasped, and then moaned, and with every millimeter of his invasion, he was rewarded with another reaction. Her hands clenched and then released, trembling and shaking as he studied them, and when he’d finally buried himself in her, she pushed her groin against him hard. He moved, stroked and thrust, and as his body quickened, his pounding thrusts did too. She pushed up to meet him with every penetration and was bracing her heels against the bed as much for leverage as anything. Her crying moans filled the room and mixed with his grunting and gasping as he neared his release, but before he fell apart completely, he pulled the mask from her eyes and quickly let loose her hands. She reached instantly to his back and pulled him hard against her body as he pushed further and further. He held her eyes until the last moment when neither his eyelids nor hers would stay open, and he buried his head to her neck as he came in a powerful roar that emptied his cock and released every ounce of tension in his body. She was mewling and panting against his neck as her body trembled and her muscles spasmed.

When he was certain he no longer looked like a ravenous dog and his teeth were returned to their human form, he propped himself up on an elbow and looked to her eyes. She smiled, and he smiled right back. “Thank you. That was lovely.” Her words were precious, sweet even, and he might have fallen in love with her just a bit more as he took in her beauty. When she spoke, he was powerless. He may have been the strongest, most virile species on earth, but she held all the power. He would bend to her will over his own every day for the remainder of eternity given the chance.

“You’re very welcome, and it was lovely—more than lovely.” He felt her body trill at his words, and he chuckled at her response to his voice. As he pulled his length from her tight, warm body, he took his place beside her and pulled her into his arms. She fell asleep in his arms almost at once, but he did not. He listened to her breathing. She sounded content, and it was all he wanted for her life.

* * *

She woke alone as muted dark orange was just showing out on the bay. She could see his silhouetted figure sitting in a chair on the deck. As she rose, wrapping herself in a thin throw from the foot of his bed, she walked to the door. He tilted his head and turned slightly to her as he heard her approach, though she thought she was far too quiet for that to be true, and as she stepped out to the deck, he looked to her. She didn’t need to see the smirk in the dark of the early morning, but his eyes shimmered in the dawn light, and she could have sworn she saw a glint on his teeth. He was naked, and his feet were propped up on the deck railing as she approached, and when she reached him, he put his feet to the ground and leaned back in the chair.

She was already aroused just seeing him sitting naked on the deck, and in the cover of dawn’s shadow that gave her a measure of confidence, she dropped the throw and stepped between his legs. He reached for her waist and pulled her body to his mouth. He kissed and sucked and licked her skin, and as her arousal built, she stepped to straddle his legs and allowed him to pull her body closer. She knew what she wanted to do, but darkness aside, she wasn’t at all sure she could manage.

She sank to his lap with his own arousal rising high between them. He gripped her hips and pulled her harshly against him. “Do you want to ride me?” She did, but she wasn’t even sure she had the nerve to nod, let alone put this act into motion. Her chest was heaving in fear, and as he continued to watch her, he continued. “I’ll help you. Don’t be frightened.” And he did. He lifted her hips as she stood on her tiptoes, hovering over his body. And as he lowered her, he instructed, “Grip me. Guide me to your pussy.” She was trilling with excitement, and as he held her hips steady, she held his rigid length. He lowered her hips, and as she guided him to her body, he pushed her hips down over his erection. She sank onto his length as a moan escaped her lips, and when it did, he captured her mouth with his as he pulled her the rest of the way to his groin. The painfully deep penetration seared her womb as she cried out between his lips, and when he slowly lifted her hips back up along his length, she rose to her tiptoes once again.

He let go of her hips and dropped them to his side when he was nearly out of her body, and when he did, she sank back down and took over where his hands had helped her. She pushed all the way to his lap once more, and the pain seared through her core again. She lifted herself and pushed back down endlessly as he watched with his hands at his sides. His lips were slightly parted, and in the soft, barely morning light she caught the glimmer of his teeth. She kept up the movements of her hips and studied him. He was tightening his buttocks and pushing up into her as much as he could from his position, and as his arousal mounted, he gripped her hips, forcing her body tight to his; he was grunting. She could tell he wanted to fuck her hard, and the moment her release tore through her body, she gave in, dropping her head to his shoulder. She let him grip, force, drive her body down over his erection. He was moaning and growling against her neck, and it was only a few furious, pounding thrusts before his own release took him over and left his body spasming into her.

It wasn’t until he’d held her body close to his and allowed her breathing to slow for many long and fulfilling minutes that he lifted her from his erection and planted her on his lap. He reached to the blanket she’d discarded and covered their bodies with it. “Was that too rough?” His words were purred, as they always were. She shook her head, and he nuzzled into her neck. Wetness dripped from her body and ran down to his thigh as he held her. She ignored it for a moment until she realized what had happened, and as she stood quickly in a panic, Truman looked to her.

“We didn’t… We didn’t use anything!” She was nearly shrieking, and at any other time, she might be embarrassed by her behavior, but she was terrified. He appeared to calm at her words, but she certainly didn’t.

“Come with me.” He led her by the hand back into his bedroom and then into his bathroom. Depositing her on the side of the bathtub, he grabbed a washcloth and wetted it in the sink. He kneeled between her legs and wiped her clean of every last drop of his seed, and when he was finished, he looked to her eyes and then pressed two of his fingers into her vagina. He stroked, and after a few minutes that brought her near orgasm, he held his fingers up for her to see. His fingers were tinged with her blood. She’d started her period. He had a knowing look on his face, as though he expected to find nothing less, but that was impossible of course. He kneeled up between her thighs and kissed her. “You’re fine, and I assure you, you have nothing to fear, medically speaking, from me. Let me run you a bath. I’ll bring you some coffee as soon as it’s made.” And with one final kiss, pulling her top lip between his and sucking it gently, he rose, started the bath, and then left her to bathe.

How could he have possibly known she’d started her period? He couldn’t have, and yet there wasn’t a moment of surprise in his eyes, and his actions from the moment he led her to the bathroom were to reassure her. He’d gone looking and found what he expected to find, but it wasn’t possible. Was it?

Chapter 10

Their week passed largely together, and by the time their next class came, they’d hardly been separated but for a few random shifts Ember had to work. He was happy. He was content after so long being parted from her, always yanked from her after so little time together. He had always wanted to be a part of her life to some extent or another, and he’d always been forced to lurk in the wings of her existence. It had never been enough. And now she was his, and he would never give her up.

He’d not made love to her since the completely impossible pregnancy scare, but he could sense the time was near. He knew her flux was ending, and by the time class was over that night, he would happily be able to have her again—if he could keep his hands off her for that long. Making love to her was all he could think about when she wouldn’t let him. She had a shift at the café right before class, and as he kissed her good-bye as she left her apartment, and he settled in to enjoy her space without her, his jaw pounded—oh yeah, she would definitely be ready by tonight.

He was hungry. He’d skipped his usual trips to Boston and New York in exchange for spending time with her, and it had wore on him. Vampires were certainly not required to eat constantly, but it was far more comfortable to stay satiated enough not to crave it. His body felt weaker than usual, and though he could still destroy a human easily with his strength and power, it was not his normal state. It also made Ember’s womanhood, especially now, all the more enticing, and he much preferred to desire and be obsessed with Ember’s body than hungry for it. But he wasn’t ready to leave her yet. He was enjoying her entirely too much, and while he’d eventually have to find time to hunt in New York or Boston, it wasn’t going to be anytime soon. So long as he had energy to make love to her, that’s where he would be.

When he entered the classroom, she was waiting in her usual seat. He couldn’t help but recall their first night of class when she’d tried to put herself in the hospital, and as he took his seat behind the desk and caught the subtle smile on her face, he fought the chuckle. She looked radiant. She was wearing nothing more than a faded old pair of jeans that she’d rolled a wide cuff in and which fit her perfectly, a white button-up sleeveless peasant top, and a pair of flat sandals. Her hair was knotted in a bun, and she wore no makeup. She looked fresh and clean, and as he inhaled her scent, it was completely devoid of blood. She would have no reason to deny him tonight, and given her already accelerated heart rate, there would be no argument.

He sat on the edge of the desk as he quizzed the students. Ember spoke far less than she was capable of in his presence, and it bothered him. He liked her curiosity, her insatiable want for more information, and her loose tongue, but she hid it from him so effectively in her self-consciousness. Ironically, there was nothing at all that should concern her. He knew exactly who she was and how she operated, and he was left knowing she was hiding this part of herself from him.

As he spoke, students chimed in—mostly female. Occasionally, Ember would answer a question, and when she did, it left a small smirk on his lips as she spoke. Every time he heard her voice, he started imagining her. Her body, the touch of her hand on his body, the feel of her lips against his skin, and the damn sweet way she moaned when he made love to her. By the end of the evening, he was sitting more for the need to hide his erection than for any other reason, and as the students filed out of the room, she lingered.

When the door finally closed after the last student, he spoke quietly. “Would you like to come over?” If she said no, he’d fall apart, but her expression said yes, and as she slowly nodded her confirmation, he smiled. He pulled her into his arms as they moved to leave, and when his lips touched hers and then moved to her ear, he whispered. “I’ve missed your body so much. You can’t believe how starved I am of you.” His arousal was quite obvious in the rigid length of his cock that was hard against her stomach, but the sudden soft scent of her need was the reassurance he wanted.

They walked together from the building, careful not to touch one another or behave in any way indecent. There were only three weeks left of the term, and it could hardly be considered a crime for a young teacher to date an adult student during her last semester of school, but there was no reason to announce it to anyone.

When they arrived at his home, he poured her a glass of wine and pulled her down to the living room couch. He had an agenda, and he was anxious—even more so than his cock. “Come to Boston with me after your last class? I have some business I have to attend to. Consider it a well-earned vacation. We can sightsee, relax, get you some more bread pudding.” His words sounded calm and cool, but he wasn’t at all. He wanted her with him, desperately, and while he knew she wanted to be with him, he wasn’t sure how far she was willing to go to make it happen. He had an ulterior motive for sure. He wanted her to fall in love with him, stay with him, make Boston her home, and while he wouldn’t go so far as to ask her to move in with him yet, he hoped this time there would make it easier for her to say yes when he did ask.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me after your summer here. Or…”

“Why wouldn’t I want to see you?” He sounded as incredulous as he was. He knew he made her nervous, hell he knew she was downright terrified with him at times in her self-consciousness, but he never imagined she might think he could be done with her just because the term ended.

“I just thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

Turning her face to his, he clutched her cheeks, and he could feel his worry furrowing his brow. “Ember … I…” He dropped his gaze from her as he realized just how much power she held in her hands at the moment. She could destroy him emotionally just as easily as he could destroy her physically, and he prayed she was just as incapable of breaking his heart as he was of breaking her body. He needed her, and his life belonged to her. How could she not understand that yet?

She nodded before he had a chance to speak, and his heart trilled in relief. “When will we leave?”

“Right after class. It’s a couple of hours away, and I’ll be releasing class early. I have to have grades done before the last class, so we won’t be there long.”

With their plans set, he pulled her upstairs to his bedroom and set about reassuring her body that coming with him would most definitely work out in her favor. He made love to her gently, far more so than he thought might be possible after five days without her body, and as he ran a bath after and helped her in, he took his place behind her. The warmth of the water quickly warmed his own skin to the same temperature as hers, and she snuggled up to him. She was quiet. She was in the position to inflict any of a million heartbreaks upon him, and it made her the most powerful being in his life, but she was silent, her power completely unrecognized.

“How did you know I’d started my period? Last week. I mean, you seemed to know…” She was talking quietly in far off thought and contemplation, and as she turned to him, he froze. It was one thing to omit parts of himself from her, but to lie straight out to her was quite another thing.

And as she studied his eyes and he returned her gaze, fighting the need to look away, he lied. I had blood on me after we made love earlier, so I assumed you were getting ready to start your period. He continued to match her gaze, and it was an intense struggle. She couldn’t know who he really was, and it was a smack in the face once more. She’d known him once. She’d known him, accepted him, and made love to him regardless, and he missed that in her. She had looked at him in wonder and hadn’t hesitated a moment. The woman in his arms was every last bit of the Ember he knew from then but missing a few very important memories in their life together. It didn’t make him love her any less, it was just sad, and he resented that she’d never know him that way. But he didn’t resent her in the least; it was himself that was to blame.

Apparently satisfied with his lie, she relaxed against him once again, and after he’d dried their bodies, he didn’t even manage to get them to bed before he took her body from behind up against the bathroom counter while they watched one another. He had to drop his head to her back as he was overcome by her just to hide his teeth, which had fully protracted, and it wasn’t until he’d pulled swiftly from her body and emptied himself on her lower back and collapsed against her backside that he could safely show her his face again.

Chapter 11

Ember lost track of how many times they’d made love or some interesting variant of the act over the last three weeks of the summer term, and she was starting to dread his return to Boston. He didn’t speak of it, and she didn’t ask, but he must have classes scheduled for the fall, and it was his home after all. Thrilled as she was that she’d be accompanying him there and would finally see his real home, it was also tinged with sadness. Perhaps he wouldn’t notice if she packed a U-Haul for the drive and she simply moved in… It’s what she wanted if she were being honest. She didn’t want to lose him, and she prayed she would receive no job offers in the meantime.

In fact, so worried was she about potential job offers, she refused to answer a call from a man she’d interviewed with at a hospital when he called less than a week before their last class, and when she arrived for another interview at a state-run institution, she deliberately wore holey jeans and smacked her gum the entire time. She thought about intentionally burping during the interview too, but decided that was perhaps taking it a bit too far. So by the afternoon before their last class, she was still thankfully jobless, naked in her bed with him between her legs and with her bags packed by the front door. He would drive them to class early so they could avoid being seen together and then leave directly after. The moment he pulled his length from her body, she was counting the minutes until they could be together again in Boston—at least six hours. She hated six hours. Two was far more manageable. She’d become mildly insatiable with Truman and wondered if it was possible he felt the same way.

Class was short and sweet, and as the last of the students filed past him and out of his line of sight, he winked his seductive wink at her before walking to the door and locking it. Apparently, they weren’t leaving straightaway for Boston. She’d worn her short jersey-knit skirt that he easily had at her waist the moment she approached him. He pushed her to the side of the desk, and taking the cheeks of her bottom in his two hands, he squeezed, fondled, and caressed until she felt pleasantly bruised.

Ember sank to her knees on the hard industrial linoleum, and as she did, he unfastened his pants and sat back into the chair. His eyes never left her as she pulled his erection from the parted fabric. His eyes smoldered and twinkled all at once in the impossible way they always did, and as her lips met the engorged head of his arousal, he hummed an incredibly contented moan. She glanced to his eyes, and he studied her as he brushed her hair from the sides of her face and pulled it back, gripping it at the crown of her head. He didn’t pull her to his body at all but just held her hair back and watched. He watched every last taste, and when her lips would pass over the head as she sucked and pulled on his cock, it nearly always incited a moan and a delicious fluttering of his eyelids. She loved watching his reaction to her, and when he stopped her short of coming, it was only to stand her in front of him between his legs.

He trailed his fingers up the backs of her thighs, tickling and exciting her skin, and when he lifted the front of her tank top, he leaned to her stomach and kissed. With his mouth sucking gentle kisses on her stomach, his eyes peered up at her, and she smiled down at him. His hands went once more to her thighs and pulled her underwear gently down, letting them drop to the floor. The cool air tickled her wetness as her underwear was pulled down, and as he inhaled her scent, his eyelids fluttered again. His finger trailed up between the lips of her vagina, passing lightly over her tight nub and sending a shiver through her body that brought a smile to his mouth. Turning her to face the desk, he pulled the skirt up higher on her back and returned to her bottom. His mouth made contact, and she jerked at the surprise, and when he told her to bend over, she hesitated … but complied.

She was completely exposed to him, and he lifted one of her legs, planting it on the desktop. He then reached to the lips of her sex and parted the skin. His fingers brushed a soft stroke over her sensitive skin, and her knees shook and threatened to give way if he continued, but she’d be damned if she’d stop him. He dipped a finger into her entry, and as he plunged with a steady, slow thrust, his contentment was exhaled in an incredible sigh that touched the back of her thighs. Ember was panting with nothing more than his slow penetration, and when he pulled his finger from her, she was nearly ready to beg him to make love to her, but when his lips touched the skin just where her thigh met her buttocks, she decided she could be patient.

He worked his mouth to her vagina with slow, licking kisses that trailed a cool path in their wake, and when he latched to her sex, his tongue thrust swiftly inside her. He licked and plunged as she squirmed and moaned, and she listened as he tore a condom packet open. Her body was instantly set on fire, and when he abruptly stopped, turning her to face him, he stood and with one smooth movement lifted her and sank his erection deep within her as he eased her down to teeter on the edge of the desk—a terribly coordinated move, and a new favorite she was quite sure.

He pushed deep within her and held her eyes as he moved his hips between her legs, and she fell apart with her head falling back within seconds. His mouth on her skin had been her undoing, and his incredible penetration put her over the edge. As her body spasmed around him, he kept plunging and forcing himself inside of her body, and when he came, it was moaning her name in her ear over and over and over again.

When they were clothed and out the door, he held her hand. The halls were empty, and they were alone. But the moment they exited the building, Truman froze and pulled her body into his. He looked more animal than man, and as a dark figure stepped from the shadows of a nearby tree, Ember’s heart lurched, and she panicked. His eyes were the first she really saw of him as he walked toward them. They twinkled in the moonlight, and when he stepped from the shadow to be bathed in the light of the building, Truman’s hold on her body tightened further. He wasn’t letting go of her, and it reassured her. The whole event was surreal. Truman by her side felt strong, fierce even, and as she glanced up to him, she caught the glint of too long teeth for the briefest of moments before his lips closed.

“Thomas. Lovely to see you.” Truman’s words implied anything but happiness that this man was present.

“Tru. Smells like you’ve been having fun with your human. Quite a delicious scent, isn’t it?” Ember’s reaction was to gasp at his words, but as Truman heard her response, he pulled her closer to his body.

“Ember, I need you to wait in the car.” His words weren’t mean, but they were demanding, and the moment she paused, he snapped. “Now.” She wanted to smack him for being so bossy, but as she turned to glower at him, his eyes met hers. He touched her cheek, and he leaned to her ear. “You need to wait in the car.” His words were gentle, but his tone was intense and left no room for question.

He released her body, and she walked to the car, passing by the stranger who instantly lifted his nose to the air and inhaled. “Lovely.” She nearly broke into a run as her panic rose. She didn’t know this man, and she didn’t like him, and at the moment, he was far closer to her body than Truman was. But she maintained her course with an even step.

“Why have you come here?” Truman’s voice sounded controlled, but she could tell he wasn’t happy to see this man any more than she was happy to meet him.

“Oh, come on, Tru. Mason isn’t happy you’ve allowed this little interruption to pull you away from your place in the family. This has gone on for long enough. What is it, twelve years now? It’s a liability he won’t tolerate.” Ember had no idea what he meant, and as she turned to glance back once as she neared the car, Truman’s eyes found hers and then dropped from them immediately.

She climbed in the passenger seat and watched. She could now hear nothing of their utterly baffling conversation, but she could see Truman’s body language clear enough to know he wasn’t happy. She wasn’t either.

* * *

“You know damn well she is no liability to us.” Thomas’ presence ruined Truman’s day in one second flat. Of all the vampires Mason could send, it had to be Thomas. Thomas was Mason’s brother, the one most likely to incite a hailstorm of fury in him. The man had no respect for humans, no respect for anything whatsoever quite frankly, and his vulgar approach to Ember left his cold blood boiling.

“No human holds sway over our kind, and whether you see her as a liability or not is irrelevant. You can’t possibly hope to keep her around. She’s mortal, and however deep you’ve buried her memories, there’s no guarantee they’ll stay buried forever. You know the longer you’re around her the better chance her brain will start to connect the dots. You’re a fucking idiot, frankly, for wasting your time on a walking carcass. You do understand she’s mortal, right?”

“We’re the walking carcasses, and she’s more alive than you and I will ever be. You haven’t answered my question. Why the fuck are you here?” His voice managed to be heard past his clenched teeth and jaw, but he was coming dangerously close to losing his temper, and it was the last thing he wanted to have happen with Ember sitting nearby in the car. In truth, all he wanted was to be close to her. He could see her so nearby, but she felt so damn far away it terrified him. The fact that Thomas stood between them didn’t help.

“Mason wants to see you, and if you have any sense left in you, you won’t make him wait.” With that, he turned and walked away to his car, and Truman walked slowly to his where Ember was waiting. Her eyes were wide and frightened. He wanted to reassure her, but he was as terrified as she was, if not more so. He knew exactly what his kind was capable of, and while he had thought he’d given Mason no reason to care about Ember, he was realizing with a swift kick to his conscience that perhaps he’d misjudged their situation. But he didn’t understand why.

He wasn’t the first of his kind to develop a relationship with a human, and he was certain her memories of him were safely buried deep within some dark recess of her mind, so why now? He had no choice but to go. His kind were not a patient lot, and Mason was the worst of them. The longer he kept him waiting, the more resentful he would be, and unfortunately, that resentment would come out aimed fully at Ember.

When he climbed in next to her, she watched him, saying nothing at all. She was confused, and he felt guilty. This wouldn’t be happening were it not for him, and that was likely the hardest pill to swallow. “I’m sorry, Ember. I can’t take you to Boston right now.” She watched him still saying nothing, but her face had dropped, and she was fighting the hurt she would never feel if she understood just what his motive was. All he wanted was to protect her, see to it she was kept safe, but all she could see was rejection of one sort or another.

“Why?” Her voice was quiet and timid. She was afraid of the answer, and because he couldn’t give her one that would make any sense whatsoever to her, he could do little to make her feel better.

“I have to attend to some business, and it…”

“Truman, that doesn’t make any sense. I already know you have business—”

“I’m sorry, but I need you to trust me. I want to be with you. I want to take you. But I can’t right now. I’m sorry. This is the last thing I want to do, but I don’t have a choice. You have to understand this isn’t what I want.”

Her eyes were wary and anything but trusting at the moment, and he hated himself for bringing this distrust to her. They drove in silence, and when he took her hand in his, she didn’t pull away, but she looked out the window away from him.

He followed her up to her apartment, and when she asked when he needed to leave and he said right away, she walked away to her bedroom. He set her bags on her bedroom floor and crawled in next to her. “I’m sorry, Ember. I didn’t mean for this happen.”

“It’s fine.” She rolled from his body, and after a few minutes of listening to her breathing but without any sign she wanted him there, he stood to leave, kissing her gently on the back of her neck.

He returned to his car and headed to Boston and his family’s building in Beacon Hill, and with every mile he put between them, his cold heart became colder and colder and colder. He was furious, but just as worried as he was upset. His heart was sinking with every mile. There was no way this could end well. He’d turned his back on the family long ago, when he’d rescued Ember when she was ten to be exact. He didn’t hate them as a whole, but he loathed Mason, the head of his family. They may have shared the same bloodline, but Truman didn’t feel bound to him in any way. The same could not be said of Mason though. Mason had tried for years to pull him back to them, but every time he pulled, Truman pushed back. There was little Mason could truly do to him, but Ember … that was a different story.

He was speeding, but oddly, he was in no hurry to get there. His fury was at critical mass, and he wanted to be done with this so he could return to her. But the fear lurking in the back of his mind interrupted that thought with its own. What if I can’t keep her?

When he entered his family’s historic building, he stalked past one of the women in his bloodline, ignoring her greeting as he entered the elevator. He ascended to the penthouse level, his fury building by the floor. Truman had spent many a year living in this building, and he was not happy to be back. It was gorgeous, luxurious, and equipped for a lifetime of hedonism and godly existence, but he wanted a real life, not this. This life offered protection but not freedom. Mason offered whores at will, but not love. In truth, the whores were nothing but walking shells of human women, and men for that matter. Their minds had been buried and unburied so many times over that they were in a constant daze, unable to grasp their own existence anymore and far more pliable and willing than any human should be. He had always hated them; they disturbed him in a way he couldn’t quite get over, and so, he’d always chosen to fuck his own kind … until he met her.

When he arrived at the penthouse, he didn’t bother knocking—he never had bothered in the past, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to bother now, and when he entered, Mason was lounging on a couch with a whore’s face buried in his naked groin. Her head was bobbing, and her lips were slurping, and Mason’s head was dropped back. He was disturbed by this image as he was everything in this place, and when Mason heard him enter, he pulled his head up and smiled a lascivious, evil smile. He did not, however, stop the woman from her job, and as she continued pleasuring him, Mason spoke. “Good of you to come, dear Tru. I’d offer you her mouth, but she’s busy at the moment, and I don’t feel like sharing.”

“I’m not interested in your women. Why have you called me here?”

“You know why.” And his dark eyes darkened in fury. “Your human will not be standing in the way of your family any longer. It won’t be tolerated.”

“Her name is Ember, and she is not my human; she is her own. I simply have the good fortune of being a part of her life.” Truman’s own fury was building at Mason’s disrespect for her.

“Not anymore you won’t.” Mason’s anger hit a peak, and he shoved the whore from his body, standing, fixing his clothes, and walking to Truman. But when he reached Truman, his face softened in mock kindness. “We could bring her into the fold. Scramble her brains a bit and let you keep her as a whore. We’d all want to share of course. We are family after all.”

Truman’s fury hit its own peak at his words. “You stay the fuck away from her!” His voice was bellowing fury.

“That’s what I thought you’d say. Have it your way. I see two options for you then. You can kill her, or we can, of course. Or, you wipe her memory of you, and she goes on to live a long and fulfilling life.”

“I have no intention of leaving her, and if you threaten her again, I will destroy you.” His words were true. He would have no problem destroying this monster, but he also knew it would be the end of his existence as well; killing another vampire was no more tolerated than any other rule violation, and unless you had a good reason, you could expect there to be fallout. Ember was the best reason in the world to him, but a human would not be considered worth the life of an immortal. He was panicking, and whatever control he may have been exuding was just an act.

“I’d like to show you something, Truman. Please come.” Mason walked away to a media area with a massive flat screen television mounted to the wall. He took a seat, turned on a teleconference console on the table in front of him, and powered on the television, and as the image came in focus, Truman’s mouth dropped, and he gasped.

Ember was sleeping in her bedroom with the nightstand light on. She was still wearing the clothes she’d had on that night and looked exactly as he’d left her. But she wasn’t alone. Sitting beside her on the bed was Thomas, and he was watching the still camera that was without doubt set up on a tripod in front of him. He had a Bluetooth in his ear, and as his lips moved on camera, his voice came through on the teleconference console. “I assume Truman’s there?” His words were spoken quietly.

“Oh, he’s here, and from the looks of it, we’ve finally gotten his attention, brother.” A sly smirk was all the response Thomas’ face showed on camera. And as Truman watched with his panic building by the second, Thomas touched her body. First he stroked her cheek, and she flinched in her sleep. He trailed his hand down to her breast, and he ran over her small mounds with his palm. Truman was dying inside. He wanted to destroy Thomas; he wanted to destroy Mason; but at the moment they held her life in their hands, and there was nothing he could do.

“Wake her.” It was Mason who spoke, and as Truman watched, Thomas slapped Ember’s cheek hard, her eyes flashed open in shock, and she screamed. Truman just watched, sinking to his knees on the floor in front of the television screen. Thomas clapped his palm over her mouth, stifling her scream, and as Ember’s eyes opened wide in terror, he pulled her body up to sit and took his place behind her. His fangs were protracted, and his mouth was at her neck. He was threatening, and this threat was being powerfully executed.

“Make one sound, and I will kill you. Do you understand?” Ember nodded her head, and as he continued to speak, he moved his hand tauntingly down her body, and she was once again subjected to the torments of a man. It broke Truman’s heart and left him feeling as though he might vomit in pain. “I can see why he enjoys you so much. Tight young body…” At the touch of his hand on her breasts, she cried and sobbed through gritted teeth. He kneaded her skin as her tears fell, and Truman watched in horror and absolute desperation.

Thomas moved his hand down between her legs, pulling her thighs apart, and Ember shut her eyes. Her face went slack, and she shut down. He could see it in her expression. She gave up and hid in her mind rather than allowing this fear to destroy her. She’d been through this fear before, and she knew, even if only subconsciously, she wanted nothing to do with it. Her skirt was short and already riding up from being pulled around. Thomas reached for the fabric of her underwear, pulling it roughly aside to expose her sex. He plunged a finger within her body as Ember cried out and sobbed again. Truman started begging. “Please, please, make him stop. I can’t… Please, I’m begging you.” Truman wasn’t human, but he hadn’t lost the ability to sob, and he did. His tears ran down his cheeks, and he sobbed just as she did. He couldn’t bear to watch any more, but he couldn’t look away either, and as he watched Ember being tortured, her body being disrespected, his body shook and quivered in his pain, and he continued to beg.

“That’s enough, Thomas. I think Tru has finally gotten the point. Wipe her mind, please.” And as Thomas spoke in her ear, her eyes fluttered and closed, and Thomas let her body drop to the bed. He stood and tossed a blanket haphazardly over her. He left the camera rolling, and as Truman continued to watch as his tears tapered off and she slept, Mason asked one final question. “So, are you going to do what you have to do, or are we going to take care of this little problem for you?”

Chapter 12

Ember woke as her bed shifted, and for the briefest of moments, she was terrified as though she was awoken from some obscure nightmare she couldn’t remember to a real nightmare in her bedroom, but as his voice purred out to her, she eased at once. “It’s just me. You’re safe.” His words were odd, as though there really was a reassurance needed, and his voice sounded choked and restrained. She turned to him, catching the time on the clock. It was five in the morning, and dawn would soon be on them. They had never fought before, and though she wouldn’t necessarily call their parting the night before a fight, she hated feeling like they’d ended things badly. Ember’s lips found his, and she kissed him. He hesitated for a moment before returning her passion with his own, and when he pulled his mouth from hers, he spoke. “I love you, Ember. So much more than you can imagine.”

Her body trembled at his words and the profound meaning behind them. She loved him too, and she knew in that moment she would have everything she could want with this man and more. Her happiness was held by him, and he loved her. “I love you too.”

He kissed her once more, and as he did, she felt a tear drop from his eyes onto her cheek. Her hand moved to his cheek, brushing the tears away, and for a moment she worried. But then he spoke again, “Sleep,” and she forgot her worry, her love for him, her absolute happiness at his words, every last piece of him … gone.

* * *

When Ember woke, she was still tired. She felt as though she’d not slept at all, and yet, she knew she had. All the coffee in the world couldn’t seem to chase her exhaustion away, and as she sat at the kitchen table, she couldn’t quite seem to get a grasp on herself. She was confused, but she didn’t know why. She felt as though there was something missing, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. When she found a small suitcase packed with clothing and toiletries, she started to wonder, not for the first time in her life, if she was perhaps going a bit insane. Her class was finally finished, and there was nothing left for her to do but wait to receive her diploma, and as she thought back about her semester, she noticed more holes and missing information. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember the professor. It made no sense to her whatsoever, but he, or she for that matter, was simply missing. She recalled the other students, she recalled giving an atrociously delivered speech, but there were holes in everything, and the more she tried to remember, the foggier her mind became.

She discovered five messages from a man she had interviewed with, and she knew she’d intentionally ignored them, but try as she might, she couldn’t remember why. She called him back and apologized for not getting back to him sooner, saying she’d had to go out of town unexpectedly. He must have bought her excuse because the next she knew, she had a second interview set up for the following day.

Ember spent the rest of the day feeling a bit loony, and by that night she was no clearer on what was missing from her life than she was when she woke that morning. When she woke in the middle of the night, she was crying. She was depressed, and she didn’t understand why, and by the next morning she was absolutely certain she was losing her mind. But there was nothing to be done about it. She had an interview for a child psychologist position, and psychologists simply weren’t allowed to be crazy.

Chapter 13

Truman was watching as Ember entered the hospital the next day for an interview. He was watching when she arrived at the café to work her shift later on that same day. And he was watching every last move she made for the next long weeks without her. He was more depressed than he thought ever possible, and were he able to stop hunting and feeding and just shrivel up and die, he likely would have. He didn’t want a life without her, but he couldn’t die and leave her unprotected. He had to know she was safe, and so every moment he was able, he watched her. He’d spent twelve years doing this already, he could do it for another seventy or so if need be, and once she’d passed away, he would allow himself to wither away and die as well. His obsession would leave him devastated time and again as he watched her date, fall in love, marry, but he had to know she was okay. It was more important than even his feelings and desire for her.

He inevitably had to make time for Boston or New York on occasion, but he dreaded it every time he had to leave her. He worried incessantly when he was away from her, but he couldn’t hunt in Portland—it was too damn small. Boston and New York were never short on monsters that he was happy to pass judgment and condemnation on, and he could destroy them without so much as the police batting an eye. Portland was different. It had its fair share of monsters he’d gladly devour if given the chance, but there was far more risk of discovery.

He’d done as his family had asked. He’d wiped her mind of him to protect her, and he was now to suffer an eternity without the one woman he loved above all else in this world. Amazing to have lived so long and to never have found anything to surpass this love, but there it was—she was his everything. Mason wasn’t happy he’d not returned to them after the deed was done, but he couldn’t have truly expected that he would after they tortured him. He had half a mind to take her to the council. Mason shunned the council, a collaboration of the family heads of nearly all vampire clans in their region. But not his own. Mason had held out long ago after some warring dispute that Truman himself could hardly remember. The council was far from judicious, but they were certainly more moral and ordered than his own dark and greedy clan leader.

He’d never actually hated his own family, just its leader. Ironically, Mason had always acted as though he ought to owe them some allegiance. Instead, he hated the man. His own sire had long ago been destroyed, and it was the very reason he was allowed to roam free and live his life as he chose for the most part. A vampire was bound to his sire until their demise, and it was only then that most vampires gained some semblance of personal freedom, ownership, leadership, and the ability to rise in the ranks of their clan. Oddly enough, Truman was the most senior of his clan, being the only survivor of the eldest vampire to have sired in his family line. But he’d turned away a long time ago, and as much as Mason might want to pull him back within his fold, it was not so he could lead as he rightly could, but so he could control him and dominate him. Truman offended him when he turned his back, and Mason no doubt saw him as a challenge to his rule, though Truman had never wished for the bureaucracy of that position. Mason had forever wanted to drag him back to demoralize him. And so he stayed away to live his life in solitude, choosing to walk alone for the rest of eternity and personally charged with protecting the one person in the world who meant anything to him.

When he returned to Portland after hunting in Boston a mere month after Ember forgot him, he found her leaving the café after a shift. It was raining, and as she trudged home in a downpour, he watched from his car, wanting to shelter her and warm her from the weather. When a figure darted out from an alley, he watched in horror as it grabbed Ember, pulling her within. He charged from his car to the spot he last saw her, and it was only as he entered the alley that he caught Thomas’ scent, and he knew in that instant that Ember’s life was in danger. The alley didn’t pass through to another street but instead dead-ended some two hundred or so yards from the street. It was littered with a couple of Dumpsters, debris, garbage, and a number of wooden pallets. He moved as fast as his feet could carry him and with impossible quietness, and as he rounded the last Dumpster ready to attack, he saw her. It was too late. His mouth was attached to her throat, and her skin was paling.

He didn’t have time to think as he leaped toward Thomas, slamming him against the back wall of the alley hard. The man’s skull crunched, and when it did, his jaw let loose Ember’s neck, and she sank to her knees and fell forward onto her stomach. He was holding Thomas to the wall with his hand to the man’s neck. His face was scrunched in fury, and his fangs were fully protracted and ready to destroy.

Thomas laughed a weak laugh as blood spilled from his ears and nose as his brain hemorrhaged. “She’s dead, you stupid fuck.” He was choking on the cold, dead blood that was draining from his brain, and he was fading fast. With all the fury this monster deserved, Truman wrenched hard with his hands and elbows and tore. The man’s neck crunched as the bones splintered and severed, and the ripping sound of his flesh was loud and grotesque as Truman’s force tore through the skin and connective tissue. His head was torn loose from his body, and he hurled it against the brick wall at the side of the alley. Truman was growling and his teeth were barred, but as he spun to find Ember, his face dropped and his growl turned to a howl of pain. She was trying to stand, and as she got her feet under her body, she took a couple of steps. She was staggering, and as he watched in horror, she fell back to her knees. Blood dripped from the gaping wound on her neck, and catching her just before she collapsed to the ground, he turned her over and eased her down to the dirty concrete.

Her eyes fluttered and tried to focus as the rain beat down on her face, and Truman sobbed and begged God to spare her. He was crying in desperation as he looked at her body trying so hard to stay alive with little more than half the blood it needed. Her neck was still bleeding, and he tore the bottom of her shirt, holding the fabric tight to her neck. Her eyes occasionally opened before they fluttered shut once again. Her heartbeat was slow but so far steady, and he knew there was little anyone could do for her. She was envenomated but wasn’t left with the blood volume needed to survive transition. She was dying, and he couldn’t stop it. A blood transfusion would kill her instantly as the venom would react to the introduction of new blood in her system and break down every last tissue and fluid in her body. It would leave her looking like some hemorrhagic disease had ravished her body, and there would be nothing left of her. Lest she survive the blood loss on her own until her transition was complete, she would die before the venom could do its job.

He pulled her up to his arms and carried her back to his car. He listened intently to her heart as it plodded along, knowing it would eventually give up trying to pump the too little blood through her system. Her tissues felt cool, and her extremities were slowly dying from the outside in. He set her in the front seat and pulled the fabric from her neck. Her blood flow was slowing from the low blood volume, and the only good thing about that was it slowed the hemorrhage of blood from her neck. It trickled—one drop after another. He reclined her chair just slightly, and pulling her cardigan from her body, he wrapped it around her neck to slow the bleeding without cutting off her air supply.

When he returned to the driver’s seat, he sat and stared at nothing at all. He was covered in her blood, shaking, and in shock. He had to get them out of there, but he had nowhere to go. There was no safe place for him to take her. He couldn’t take her to his family because Mason would kill her just to spite him, and Thomas did nothing not endorsed by his brother, so this was their plan, not Thomas’ alone. What support he might normally be able to garner from the council was a pipe dream too.

After sitting next to her, listening and studying her heartbeat, he made his decision. It might get them both killed, but he couldn’t hope to keep her alive on his own. He would beg if he had to, he would sell his soul to devil if he must, he would sacrifice himself to their wishes if he was asked, but he had no choice but to throw them both on the mercy of the council and hope by some miracle they would let her survive. vzyl

Chapter 14

As he stood over her seemingly lifeless body, he waited. The council was convened, and he stood sopping wet in their large marble room. The group of four men sat in front of him, eyeing him and the small, frail heap of Ember’s body. He could still hear her heartbeat, and it was the only comfort he had. The council watched him with interest. They had none of the cruelty of his family, but they had their laws and mandates, and he was asking them to set one aside for him for no other reason than he’d fallen in love with a mortal.

The council hated his family, and they accepted him only because he hated his family as well. They had sought him to fill his family’s spot at the council table for years, but he had always refused. The problem with the council was that vampires were no longer allowed to sire, and the humans that were turned were exterminated. This was the council’s mandate, and it made them nearly as big of a threat as his own family. Standing over her body now, he felt the threat that loomed over her.

“You’ll need to give us time to discuss this, Truman.” This was spoken by the head of the council, Sylvan, a man who’d transitioned in middle age and commanded power by his imposing presence alone. He was a fierce leader and the reason their mandates were followed swiftly. All regional councils shared the same main rules, but not all were so regimented and swift with their punishments as his own, but that was simply the predicament Truman was in.

“She doesn’t have time!” Truman didn’t want to sound shrill, but try as he might, he couldn’t stifle his desperation and panic. She was still alive, but he had no idea what her chances of survival would be without their doctor.

“And what are you prepared to do to keep her alive?” Again it was Sylvan who was speaking for the group.

“I don’t… Whatever… Whatever I have to. Just please, help her.” His voice was pleading and desperate, and as he asked, he sank to his knees at her body and pulled her into his arms. If they weren’t going to help him, he wasn’t going to let her body loose until her soul had passed from it. They would have to pry her from his arms, and as they continued to watch him, he cried and begged quietly. “Please… Please… Please… I’ll do whatever you ask, just please help her.”

“Stand up, Truman.” He was reluctant, and he looked at the group with hesitation. He shook his head with slow, jerky movements, not willing to let go of her without some agreement. But as he held her tight, two men approached and grabbed her limp arms. They pulled, and he held tight, refusing to part from her until he knew what they were going to do. “We’ll help her, Truman, but you have to let her go.” He looked up to Sylvan’s eyes, and he nodded a tight nod. Truman relaxed his grip as one of the men lifted her to his arms. And as his gaze followed the two men from the room, he listened to her heartbeat as long as he could before turning back to the council.

“Please sit, Truman,” Sylvan spoke, and as Truman looked up, he caught the eye of Angus, a dark-haired man whom Truman had known for centuries. Angus had unruly hair and blue eyes just as crystalline as Ember’s. Angus had tried more times than Truman could recall to pull him to his place with the council, and while Truman had always refused, Angus had never sought retribution. They had a genial relationship, and while guarded, there was a degree of trust. Truman sat in the chair in front of the group, and Sylvan continued as the council listened to his words. “There will be … conditions.” Truman nodded. He would take whatever conditions they would give him. “We don’t allow vampires to turn humans anymore, so the fact that we’re making an exception should be appreciated, and you will be required to return the favor by taking your place at this council. And I’m going to tell you now, we intend to destroy Mason and the control he has over your bloodline. His reign will not continue, and you will take your place as the rightful leader of your family. This is not negotiable.” Truman only nodded in agreement. There was little to argue with, and this seemed the least of his worries at the moment. He simply wanted to get back to her.

“Should Ember survive, she will be yours. She was created against the council’s mandate, and she will not be allowed to survive without a sire. When she is strong enough, you will resire her in the traditional custom, and you will be responsible for her. She will not be allowed to feed or hunt or kill, and she will survive from your body alone for the rest of eternity. Should you be destroyed, she will be destroyed as well, so take care, Truman. Her survival depends upon your own, but it would appear, given your current state, that you’ve attached your own survival to her already. Impressive that you’ve developed such a bond with a human.” Again, Truman only nodded. He didn’t want her life tied to his own, but he wanted her to belong to him, and he wanted to care for her.

“We understand you wiped Ember’s mind the last time you had contact with her. Is that correct?” Truman continued to nod his head. “You must understand that with her transition, you will lose control over her mind. When she’s conscious enough, you may try to release her memories … but there may be little hope of unlocking them. The farther into transition she goes, the less control you will have, and given her current state, it may be some time until she’s conscious enough for you to try. You should be prepared for the fact that she may never remember you.” Truman’s heart broke at the thought that their memories could be lost from her forever, but it was her survival that mattered most, and at this moment, it was all he was focused on.

Sylvan continued. “We will do our best to save her, but she has lost a good deal of blood. You know we can’t give her a transfusion, so we’re limited to blood-building medicines and fluids. We’ll move you to one of our residences, and you’ll need to plan to stay here for as long as we deem necessary. As soon as she’s stabilized, you’ll be able to see her. In the meantime, please make yourself at home. You’re a curious creature, Truman … but I suppose we all are in our own way. I hope you’re ready for this.”

Truman was escorted to a large and lavish residence. It was open with two to three-story-tall ceilings. It was in the corner of the building and offered panoramic views of the Boston skyline from its high story level. The walls of windows were draped in dark, velvety drapes that ran the entire height of the ceiling. They were opened at the moment, but could be closed with the daylight. There was an office area with an overlarge desk that sat in front of glass doors that led to the massive balcony. There was a living area with a large flat-screen television, and in a corner against one of the walls of windows and an interior wall was the bedroom. The walls of the bedroom ran only the height of traditional walls and were then open to the large high ceiling above.

As he paced, he found his way into the bedroom and took in the massive bed. He could picture himself making love to Ember here, and he wanted it so much his muscles were tight and painful as his body reacted to the impossible need. He wanted to collapse on the bed and shut down, but he wanted to see her too much, and he was terrified he’d miss something crucial. He had no idea if she would survive or not, and he was clinging to nothing more than a hope she might. Truman walked and paced and stared out the windows. He walked to the rail of the expansive balcony that overlooked the skyline. It was an impressive view he wanted to share with her, but he was helpless. He waited and he waited, and it was an endless battle to keep from going insane. He finally collapsed on the bed and stared at the ceiling. It was minutes that passed and then hours, and when the dawn light finally showed, he closed the drapes that surrounded the corner unit, and he collapsed again … and he waited.

* * *

When she opened her eyes, she was confused. It wasn’t as if she’d never been confused before. It was only a month or so ago the last time she woke feeling as though something was missing or that she’d lost memories and time that were somehow critical, but this was different. She was in a strange room on a comfortable bed. It didn’t appear to be a hospital, and yet, she was hooked up to an IV, and her vitals were being monitored.

She was alone, and while she ought to be panicked, she was too tired to muster it. Her body felt strange, but she couldn’t decide why exactly. Her jaw ached as though she’d been punched, and she smelled scents she’d never experienced before. It was as if the room was infused with smells; not entirely bad, just overpowering. She could smell antiseptic and alcohol, but it was like they were on a rag directly in front of her nose—too close, too powerful, though she couldn’t see where such a strong smell could be coming from. She could hear people murmuring from far off, but there was no one in the room and certainly no one near enough that she should be hearing these voices. Their words made little sense to her, but they didn’t seem to mean her harm.

“Her volume is up, and her body has started healing itself. The transition is going slowly because of her weakened state, but it is happening. You need to try to release her memories now. But, Truman, she’s mid-transition, so I wouldn’t expect much.”

“I know her survival is the most important thing, but it’ll be devastating if I can’t release her mind. We have so much life together, and it was a mistake to think I had the right to bury it from her.”

“You were protecting her. Quite frankly, it’s the reason she was allowed to survive as long as she has.”

She could hear their footfalls near her room from a long distance off, and she was again reminded of just how odd it was that she could hear them when their endless footfalls told her they were some distance away. When the door opened, she tried to sit up. She was gowned in a white cotton jersey-knit gown that hugged her body. The room was warm, and it soothed her though the gown only had narrow straps and offered little real warmth. As the men entered, one in particular approached her as she tried in her weakness to sit. He sat next to her and gently held her body as though he had a right to be so close. She didn’t know this man, but she still wanted to sink against his strength and let him help her. He placed a couple of pillows behind her back and eased her body back to them.

When she was relaxed, he stayed by her side and watched her. “Ember.” His voice was somber, and she couldn’t tell if he was upset with her or concerned for her, and she gazed at him in confusion. She recognized his voice as the one speaking of a life together, but she didn’t know this man. He was beautiful, his eyes sparkled in an amazing hazel-green color, and he just watched her with no expression. He was neither smiling nor frowning. His eyes were intense, and as he moved his arms from her body, she longed for their closeness again, but she had no idea why. Ember wasn’t one to crave the closeness of a man, but she liked the way his body felt against hers. Was it possible she knew this man and had somehow forgotten him?

“Go ahead, Truman. It’s the most conscious she’s been since you arrived with her. Now is your best chance.” The other man was handsome with sandy-brown hair, but she didn’t know him either, and she was certain of that, though she couldn’t say the same of the man Truman.

Truman approached her again, and his eyes flitted to the other man’s before he took his place by her side again but facing her this time. She studied him, knowing her confusion must be evident to these men, and when he stroked her cheek, she oddly didn’t pull away but instead waited with held breath for his touch. He looked to her eyes, and as he held her gaze, her head hurt and flashed with images of him. He smiled at her in some, he smirked in others, he was naked in many, and she could see every last inch of his body in full detail as though these were memories, but as he continued to look at her, the images failed to stick. None of these images melded well with his stoic and harsh demeanor now. He was happy in the images, and he looked anything but at the moment. There was something so familiar about the images, but she couldn’t piece them together. She shook her head in confusion, and as he watched her, she spoke. “I’m sorry, who are you? Do we know one another?”

His eyes fell to his lap, and his jaw clenched. This stone-hard man was upset, and for whatever reason, it seemed to involve her. She watched him, knowing she was being far too calm for the situation but still too confused and exhausted to care. He stood from her side and walked from the room without another word. The moment he was gone, she missed him and wanted him to return, but he didn’t, and she was left alone with the man in the lab coat.

“Ember, I’m Dr. Quentin Bremmer. We’re happy to see you awake again.” His eyes were warm and comforting.

“Who was that man Truman? Should I have known him? Why am I here, and where am I? What’s happened?” Her questions tumbled out one after another, and he smiled warmly.

“Well, questions I can answer. I can’t guarantee you’re going to like the answers or that you’ll even believe the answers, but you’ll get them. It’s a treat to meet you, Ember. You’re the first transition we’ve had for many a century, and the first I’ve gotten to witness.”

“I’m sorry. I have no idea what you’re talking about. What is a ‘transition’?”

“Well there’s really no soft way to put it. You’re transitioning into a vampire. Your body is dying, and soon, the transition will be complete. You know Truman well … very well, but you can’t recall him at the moment because he very effectively buried your memories of him to protect you. How are we doing so far?” He eyed her with concern showing on his face, and she sat stunned, thinking one of them was most definitely crazy, and she was absolutely leaning toward that being him and his tales of vampires and memories. But then she recalled the images that had been flashing through her mind of Truman and thought perhaps… It would explain her lifetime of missing memories, but she’d have to be insane to actually believe what she was being told. Wouldn’t she?

Her brain hurt as she tried to process what he was saying. She had tears in her eyes, and try as she might, she couldn’t rule out what he was saying. She was a vampire … or would be soon. It made no sense, and in one moment she would start to panic, and then in another, she thought he was surely crazy. She absolutely could not wrap her head around his words, and as she sat there shaking her head and then crying and then going back to head shaking, he watched her carefully. Ember finally gave up reconciling his words and decided she could wait to decide which of them was crazy for another time. There was no understanding his words at the moment.

Dr. Bremmer patiently explained the events of the last few days, and she pieced together her final memories of leaving the café. It was raining, and she was walking quickly. She recalled being grabbed and dragged, but before her panic could even settle in, she had felt a pain. It was in her neck, and it was the last memory she could recall. There was a bandage on her neck now, but little pain, and it felt more like a healing sore from weeks before rather than the vicious, gaping wound Dr. Bremmer was relating to her from only three days prior. He explained her aching jaw and the teeth or fangs that were developing. She didn’t believe him in one moment, but then she did in the next. What he was describing was impossible, but she had no better explanation for a lifetime of missing memories and what had happened before she woke.

“You’re really quite lucky to still be with us. You nearly lost too much blood to survive your transition. Only Truman’s quick thinking saved your life.”

“But if I’m a vampire, then wouldn’t I just heal … or … I don’t know … drink blood?” She was trying to keep up with everything he was saying even in her shock.

“Transition takes days, and your GI tract won’t be able to process blood until you’re fully through transition. When you’re envenomated, the toxin starts to slowly take over your blood, but you have to be strong enough to survive through the transition, and we weren’t sure you would. The biggest threat was that your blood volume was so low after losing so much blood. You can’t give a vampire a blood transfusion. It’s similar to giving a human the wrong blood type. It causes an immune response that destroys us. When living human blood or blood that’s been preserved in a blood bank is injected into a vampire’s blood stream, the toxin rebels and sees it as a foreign agent. It very effectively destroys the host in order to fight the foreign blood.”

“But you still drink blood, right?”

“That’s entirely different. That’s our GI tract. Once through transition, a vampire’s GI tract is solely used to process, break down, and provide the nutrients that give our toxin the ability to regenerate and keep it alive. It’s similar, in fact, to breathing in humans. A human breathes to replenish lost oxygen in the bloodstream. The toxin that keeps a vampire alive resides in our bloodstream, and in much the same way a human must breathe to replenish the oxygen in their blood, a vampire must take in blood through their GI tract to digest, replenish, and nourish the toxin in our bloodstream. We’re meant to take in living blood through our GI tract, not directly into our bloodstream. So, we were stuck only able to give you the most minimal support until your blood volume increased on its own and you moved farther into transition.”

“So, will I have to kill someone to survive?” Her worry must have showed on her face because Dr. Bremmer’s face softened.

“No. Truman will feed you from his own blood supply. That was one of the concessions Truman made in order to save your life. Unfortunately, it will keep you weaker than us, and you’ll have to feed more often than we do.”

She continued to eye him, laughing shrilly at times in her disbelief as he talked. She wasn’t upset though. Quite frankly, the last memory she had was that she was going to die, and she wasn’t dead. She was saved … or she was dead … dying, but it wouldn’t be the end of her. He explained her heightened sense of smell and hearing, and it made sense to her even as her furious mind screamed she was losing it to think this absurd tale made sense. But she believed him … and then a moment later, she didn’t…

“So, what of my relationship with Truman? I should know him, shouldn’t I?”

Dr. Bremmer nodded his head. “Yes, but I’m not going to get into the details of your relationship or history with Truman. That is his job to do, and as soon as you’re strong enough, you’ll be moved to his residence, and you can start working through those questions. You will be resired by him as soon as you’re moved to his residence, and he will effectively be responsible for your wellbeing. What you need to know is that your life as you know it is over, but it doesn’t mean you won’t have a life. It will simply be very, very different from anything you know.”

“Wait, what do you mean by resired?” She was confused again and was getting quite used to understanding nothing of what was going on.

“Your own sire was destroyed by Truman when you were bit. We don’t allow humans to be turned anymore, but Truman was able to convince the council to let you live. There were stipulations, and one is that you will be resired by Truman. Effectively, he’ll drain you of your blood as you take his. You will then be part of his bloodline. The council won’t allow you to hunt or kill for sustenance, and you will rely on him to feed you from his own body. It was the requirement of the council, and Truman agreed to their demands. He had no real choice of course.”

“So, am I like a slave? Does he own me?”

“I suppose you could see it that way, but after spending a few days with Truman hounding my every move to see to your safety, I wouldn’t let that worry you. But like I said, I won’t delve into the dynamics of your relationship with him. It is between the two of you, and it is his job to work through these details with you.”

Ember was suddenly nervous. She had every right to be under the circumstances, but these nerves were saved for the brutally handsome Truman whom she apparently had some sort of relationship with that she couldn’t recall, and she would now rely on him for her survival. Relying on a man to save her was not Ember’s first choice, ever, and the idea she should be beholden to a man who she didn’t know was offensive and terrifying.

When Dr. Bremmer finally left her, she was more tired than when she’d awoken, and as she drifted slowly off to sleep listening to the slow bleep of the vitals monitor, she allowed the images of him to pass through her mind again. Had she seen him naked? Was that why she could see his body so clearly in her mind? He was stunning, but he was terrifying too. She didn’t like that she could see his image so clearly but had no memories to back it up. They couldn’t have known one another intimately, but her body betrayed her disbelief when it flushed with warmth. She wanted to remember him. She wouldn’t be nearly so terrified of him and his place in her new life if she could get some handle on who he was to her. But there was no connecting the dots. She simply couldn’t recall him.

Chapter 15

It was two days later that Ember was moved to Truman’s room. He had avoided seeing her after their first encounter, and while he felt guilty for leaving her alone in that room, he couldn’t bear to see her because he didn’t know how to feel about her. In truth, he knew exactly how he felt about her, he just couldn’t cope with the fact he’d failed to give her memories back. He would be responsible for her for the rest of his long life, and faced with the very real possibility that she would never remember him or their time together was sobering. Could he love a stranger for eternity, or would that just drive him insane? There was no question of his own love for her; that hadn’t faltered a bit, but the loss of her love for him was agonizing. He’d done it. He’d done it because he had to, and this was the consequence, and now that she was safe, he wasn’t sure how to cope with it.

She was escorted in by Dr. Bremmer, and he stilled the moment she crossed his threshold. She looked stunning in another white gown that fit her to a T. She looked far stronger, but Dr. Bremmer kept a cautious hand on her elbow as she walked. Truman was sitting at the desk working on a correspondence he needed to send to his own family declaring his right as head of their clan and demanding that Mason step down. After spending the past few days in this place and reviewing just how responsible Mason was for Ember’s near demise and the pain he’d caused them both, he was ready, and demand by the council aside, he wanted to destroy Mason for his own personal reasons.

He watched, suddenly nervous, as Bremmer walked her to the chair in front of the desk. She sat and watched him, and in his own nervousness, he looked away from her to Bremmer. He didn’t want to be rude to her, but he was struggling.

“How soon do I need to sire her?” She continued to watch Truman with a guarded expression. She seemed cautious and wary of him and only slightly intrigued. Truman was just plain terrified of her in this state. It was as though she had this power to break his heart, and it had him unable to even look at her.

“The council wants it done today. She’s strong enough.”

“And can we do it in private, or does someone need to watch?”

“You may do it in private. We’ll know, after all, if it’s not done. Make sure she’s ready. She doesn’t yet know how to stimulate her teeth, and she needs to feed effectively if she’s going to keep up with what you’re taking from her body. You don’t want to drain her before she’s taken enough from you to survive it.” Just another worry to add to the heap. Now Truman would have to try not to kill the woman he loved and who thought he was a stranger when he sired her. This was turning out to be more of a nightmare than he thought he could handle. But even as he considered it, his jaw ached in want to sink his teeth into her. She, on the other hand, gave him no reaction whatsoever. There was certainly no arousal of her body, and the adrenaline usually sensed from a vampire’s body as they readied themselves to bite was absent as well. She was just cold and distant, watching.

When Bremmer finally left, she stayed staring. “Do you have any questions for me?” He wanted to be open with her, and while he was in a hell of uncertainty, he wanted to hear her voice.

“Have we fucked?” He didn’t generally associate such language with her, but there was an air of passive-aggressiveness to her demeanor that made it clear she was not in a good place with any of this either.

“Yes.” His answer was simple, and he offered no elaboration.

“How many times?”

“More times than I can recall. For the most part this past summer, though the first time was on the night of your mother’s funeral.”

“So you just showed up, fucked me, and then wiped my memory of you just to do it all over again? How very convenient for you.” She stood and walked away to the bedroom without giving him a chance to comment. She was bitter, and his defensiveness had him irritated with her. He didn’t want to be upset with her, but it was hard not to feel defensive at her words. She had no right to make the assumptions she had without understanding his motives, and while he understood she was angry in her confusion, it had his own anger building, and he hated it. It was just another reminder of how far apart they were from one another in this new life.

He gave her space and tried to concentrate on what he needed to accomplish. The council made it clear that while he’d be given time to adjust to this life with her, they expected the intentions of the council to be made clear to Mason without delay. But when the end of night was near, and the sun ready to dawn, he closed the curtains and retired to the bedroom. He couldn’t wait any longer, and he was ready to be done with it. He found her lying awake in the middle of the bed, staring at the ceiling high above. She looked incredible in the white gown. It was nothing more than jersey-knit cotton, so very casual, but pristine white and hugging her figure beautifully.

She looked thin—too thin after wasting away for days as her body tried to die. He could see the slight jut of her hip bones, and it brought painful memories of making love to her to his mind. He may never be able to make love to her again, and this knowledge was hard to swallow. Her eyes found his, and she regarded him coolly. But he was done letting his apprehension dictate his foul mood. If he had any hope of ever reaching her, he’d have to let her see his want for her. But it was terrifying. Her rejection could kill him.

When he climbed onto the bed next to her, kneeling back on his heels, he watched her, refusing to look away. He reached for her hand, and she stiffened at his touch. It hurt, but he stowed the pain and pulled her up to sit in front of him as her eyes faltered and glanced away.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Ember, but I’m not going to tolerate you passing judgment on things you know nothing about.” His tone was as cool as her expression, and as her eyes flitted away from his in nervousness, he continued, leaning to her ear and holding her face still to listen to every last word he chose to give her. “We fucked because we were in love, and whether you can recall the memories or not, I’ll not allow you to disrespect what we did just because you can’t yet remember it. Do you understand?” She nodded stiffly as he clutched her cheek with an insistent hand. He was frightening her, but it needed to be said. “Now open your mouth.”

He released her cheek, and she pulled back from him, meeting his eyes and then glancing away quickly. When she looked back, she was nibbling on her lower lip, and she was nervous. He lifted her top lip with his thumbs, studying her incisors. There was a slight point to her fangs, but they were almost completely retracted. She couldn’t feed like this, and he would kill her quickly if she couldn’t keep up with his pace. There were two very effective ways of protracting fangs before a vampire figured out how to control it on their own—arousal and the smell of blood. While he would have preferred the first, he was quite certain the latter was the most appropriate approach at this moment.

He lifted his wrist to his mouth and crunched through his own skin, withdrawing his fangs quickly. He held his wrist up to Ember’s mouth and nose, and she clamped her hand over her mouth and her eyes teared. She obviously felt her fangs responding, and it scared her. He shushed her and pulled her hand from her mouth, offering her his wrist again. She whimpered in her nervousness and held her lips tightly closed. He reached with his other hand, watching her eyes the whole time, to her lips. He lifted her top lip again with his thumb, and she tried to stop him for only a second before she gave up. He lifted and saw what he wanted to see. She was ready. “Good girl. Now turn around.”

She was shaking as she turned her back to him, and when his hand clutched her waist and eased her body back to his own, desire coursed through him. He sat back on his heels and pulled her back to sit against the front of his thighs. He held his wrist up to her mouth, and with trembling hands, she held his hand and wrist in place. She was terrified, and as he leaned to her ear, she flinched. “Bite, Ember.” He knew once she passed this hurdle her mouth would know what to do, but this first bite, this first taste, could be terrifying.

She whimpered again, and he continued to shush and soothe her. He was incredibly aroused, but he was stifling the urge to grab her and grind his pelvis against her. She didn’t recall how much she enjoyed that, and he wasn’t about to make her fear worse. “Come on, Ember. I’m not going to bite you until your teeth are in me.” She leaned her mouth to his wrist, and when her lips touched his skin that was so deprived of her kisses and lips, he shuddered and groaned quietly behind her. She parted her lips, and just when he thought she might pull back and chicken out, she sank her teeth into his skin, sending stabs of pain through his body.

Soon the pain dulled, and she sucked, and as he felt the blood being pulled from his wrist into her mouth, he leaned to her neck and sank his teeth into it. She cried out even with his flesh in her mouth, and he pulled her blood into his mouth. She tasted incredible, still so much like herself, though she’d changed greatly over the last week. He pulled gently, trying hard not to be too vigorous. Her mouth was working on his wrist, but he was still a far stronger feeder than she was, and he didn’t want to get ahead of her.

They drank endlessly, and he listened to the new beat of her heart. It slowed as he knew it would and as his own was doing as well, and when they were both nearly drained, he used the last of his strength to lower their bodies to the bed, pulling her back to this front as he continued to drink and she continued to do the same. When the last of their blood was drained they effectively died, but only for so long as it took their bodies to process the blood they’d drank from one another, and soon, slowly, their bodies came back to life, and they slept in utter exhaustion. He held her in his arms, and she let him.

* * *

“When did we first meet?” She had every right to ask. She’d awoken before he had, and she sat up on her knees, watching him for many long minutes. He was beautiful, even in sleep. He was wearing the same dress pants he was in the night before, but at some point he’d taken off his shift. He was strong and pale, and when she held her own arm up to his as he slept, she saw they were the same color. She could see his stomach muscles, and his pecs were tight, and she wanted to touch him to see how hard his muscles would feel, but she didn’t. She just watched. His lips looked soft, and she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Apparently, they’d done that and far more, and it was strange to look at his incredible beauty and know she’d experienced his body and had no recollection of it.

A man as beautiful as he could hardly desire her, but according to what she’d been told, he had. Enough so they’d spent the last summer together and a time before then as well. Ember thought back to the morning she’d woken up confused over a month ago. Was it him? She trilled with a sudden stab of desire. She resented the longing her body felt because she didn’t trust him, she didn’t know him, and he owned her for the remainder of eternity.

So the moment his eyes opened and he saw her, she started in on her questions. She was good at questions, and she had so damn many of them she wasn’t entirely sure where to begin, but their first meeting seemed as good a place as any.

“The basement of the man who kidnapped you. You were ten. I had tracked him from Boston. He’d been living there for two weeks, and I was watching him. I had only arrived in town and missed it when he yanked you from the street. But I caught up to him in the basement with you.”

“You’re the one who killed him?” He nodded his response as he lounged back on the bed with his hands under his head, and he watched Ember with an unreadable expression that made her nervous. So, you’re a pedophile then? I mean, you met me as a child, so…”

“No, I’m not in the least. I do, however, enjoy eating them. I wasn’t attracted to you as a child in any way whatsoever, and it wasn’t until you were twenty that we made love for the first time.” He used the word “made love” as though what they’d done was exactly that, and as she continued to watch him, a slight smirk passed his mouth before the unreadable expression returned.

“And did we see one another between the basement and when I was twenty?”

“Yes. You were seventeen, and you got in a bit of trouble with a boy named Todd at a party. I put Todd on a different course and took you home. You tried to kiss me.”

“So why didn’t you have sex with me then if you could have?”

“You were still a child, and I had no intention of doing that to you.”

“Yet you took my virginity when I was twenty…”

“You asked me to, and I obliged.”

“I see, so you didn’t really want to. You were just doing me a fav…”

“I wanted to very much, but I wasn’t about to overstep any boundaries with you.”

“I find it hard to believe I would ask a stranger to do such a thing to me. Just doesn’t seem like me.”

“No, you’re right. It isn’t at all you. But you have to remember that I’m a stranger to you now. I certainly wasn’t at that time. You remembered me very well because I was able to release your memories of me then.”

All Ember could do was watch him and study him. His words made no sense to her, but not because there wasn’t logic behind what he said, because it all seemed so damn impossible. Apparently reading her mind, he continued. “Perhaps we should go out and you could try to bury someone’s memory of you. You could get a sense of what it is.”

“Sure. I can look for a twenty-year-old guy to seduce, fuck him, and then bury his memories of me. Is that what you had in mind?” She was struggling to keep the anger from her voice. She wasn’t actually angry at him, she just didn’t understand how so much of her life could be missing, and the man lying in front of her was responsible.

“That wasn’t at all what I had in mind.” His eyes darkened and narrowed, and his jaw clenched. He rolled from the bed without another word and stalked away to the bathroom. Moments later, she heard the shower start. She followed him in and sat on the vanity, waiting. She was feeling obstinate as being turned into a vampire and learning you’re missing large chunks of your life always does—or so she could only assume. In truth, she wanted to see him. She wanted to know if the images in her head were real, and quite frankly, she just wanted to see him. When he stepped from the shower, he froze, and she met his gaze, holding it. But she let them drift down over his body, and as they stalled out over his groin, her breath left her in a rush, and she ran from the room.

He was exactly the man in her mind, every last detail of his length and his look captured by some unknown memory that felt so detached from her life. When he found her on the balcony, staring out at the dusk fading fast over the skyline, he spoke quietly. “Do you want to tell me what that was all about?”

She looked to his eyes. “I remember your body.”

“So, you do have memories of me?” His eyes looked almost hopeful, and she suddenly felt guilty.

“No… I mean yes, but not like… I have memories, but they’re not attached to anything. They’re just images, just flashes of moments with no context whatsoever.” She was near tears as she spoke, and his face had softened. “I don’t know if I liked you or loved you or hated you or was afraid of you…” Her tears were falling in her frustration, and he watched.

“They’re memories. They’re something, and the rest is attached under the surface somewhere.” He held her eyes with his fierce ones as her tears continued to fall. “If you remember something, ask me about what you see. I’ll answer your questions.” She nodded before walking back within their home. She was hungry already, and she felt weak, but it was nearly two hours later after she’d bathed and he’d worked at his desk for some time that she finally started pacing the floor, trying to figure out how to ask him. She hated this hunger, not because hunger was so horribly painful, but because being dependent completely on another to satiate it was a vulnerability.

He watched her for a few minutes with all the seriousness of the world behind his eyes before speaking. “Are you hungry?” He was watching her fidget, and she wondered if he knew just how awkward and pathetic she felt. He pushed the papers he was looking over from him and nodded at the desktop in front of him. She sat, and he stood, pushing his body between her legs as her body froze and he watched her.

“Will I always be so hungry all the time? I mean, after last night, why would I be so hungry?”

“Last night you only replaced the blood I took from you, so you didn’t really feed. I’m not surprised you’re hungry.” He unbuttoned his shirtsleeve and rolled his sleeve up his arm, and when he held his wrist to her mouth, she looked to his eyes, nervous that he was watching. Her jaw was aching, and she could feel the teeth in her mouth as they throbbed. When he refused to look away, she finally reached for his hand and wrist. She was listening to his heart when her teeth sank in, and it sped up as she sucked. She could feel the coolness of the blood in her mouth, and it was oddly delicious. She understood her craving for it was part and parcel of this new life, but it was still difficult to understand how a taste she hated in life could be so commanding in death.

His gaze held hers for many seconds before they fluttered, and he groaned. He looked as though he was enjoying her mouth, and she recalled his own teeth sinking into her flesh from the morning before. It hurt, but after the initial bite, she could feel only his mouth on her skin, and it was nearly arousing. Perhaps it was the same for him, and as he sat back into his chair as she released him from her mouth when her body was once again comfortable, she was indeed right. He was fully aroused and straining against his pants. His gaze followed hers to his groin, and his brow flinched before he looked away. She couldn’t decide if he was embarrassed or pained in some way, and when she stood to walk away, he didn’t say a word.

She spent time looking over the massive collection of books that lined a stretch of interior wall, and as her fingers moved over one spine after another, he watched her. Every time she looked in his direction, she caught him studying her. There was a rolling ladder that allowed her to access the highest shelves that went all the way to the massively high ceiling, and when she finally plucked one from the shelf, she found an oversize chaise lounge nearby and settled in. Her body felt comfortable having fed, and an odd physical contentment flooded her, though her mind resisted the contented feeling coursing through her. She wasn’t ready to accept any of this yet, and regardless of the incredible feeling coursing through her body having satisfied her hunger, she was resentful. But why?

She struggled to engross herself in the book as her mind tried to study and analyze what she was feeling. She’d hardly given herself time to really look at this world and her part in it, and now that her mind had slowed, she was engrossed in only herself, with occasional flashes of him popping into her mind. Her life had been turned upside down, and it terrified her, and yet, she was still sane. She hadn’t lost her mind yet, or had any major mental breakdowns, which frankly she would have every right to. She wasn’t sure what she thought of the man nearby who watched her with intensity, and that was perhaps the most unsettling feeling of all. He was beautiful—even if terrifying. He was commanding, but thus far, he’d been fair and patient.

She didn’t have much of a life in Portland, and she hadn’t even started a career yet. So maybe she wouldn’t miss her old life. Was her career an option now? She had fallen in love with the youth shelter during her spring semester there, and while it’d left her quietly shedding tears after a long day there on more than one occasion, it was the most fulfilling time of her entire life. She no longer had any idea if a career was even possible for her, and that could definitely be the most crushing blow to this new life.

She’d never wanted to have children of her own but had always wanted to work with other people’s children instead. She recognized the agony her own abduction had caused her mother; it had nearly destroyed her mom emotionally, and she was certain it was this fact that led her to want to serve other children but never emotionally invest in one of her own. Her education and strong need to self-analyze left no doubt in her mind that her own life was being shaped by her past, likely even the parts she couldn’t recall. But the idea she might have to give up her dream caused a dread and depression to run through her body. But it wasn’t the only factor to consider.

Could she live forever perpetually? It was one of those questions always saved for hypotheticals in real life but without much seriousness behind it. She’d debated the very question in a philosophy class she’d taken, adamantly refusing to believe eternity wouldn’t drive a person to madness. But now she had no choice but to consider it. She supposed if her life was fulfilling, maybe she could live indefinitely, and again the question of her career and whether one was even possible came back to her once again. Quite frankly, she was glad she wouldn’t have to hunt or kill humans, and she wasn’t at all sure she could have done so if required, regardless of what kind of monster the human might be.

The more she thought, analyzed, and tried to wrap her head around this world, the more numb she felt about the course of her existence. She couldn’t quite cope with any of it at the moment, and she was resentful, but she couldn’t figure out why or of whom.

After some time of staring at pages but reading nothing at all, he approached and sat by her side. Her eyes met his, and they studied one another. She looked at him with curiosity, and he eyed her as well. His demeanor was harsh, but not cruel or mean. He just watched her with a stern and contemplative gaze. He hadn’t smiled at her once, but then, she’d given him no reason to. She was being hard on him and couldn’t seem to shake her harsh attitude. She didn’t blame him for what had happened. She knew he saved her life by bringing her here, but it was so unsettling knowing there was an entire life with him hiding in her brain. He knew her in ways she couldn’t imagine. He touched her body in places that would make her blush to consider, but she couldn’t recall exactly where. His body, the very part of him she’d eyed so invasively in the bathroom, had been fully within her own body, but she couldn’t remember it. And whenever she met his eyes, all the unknown intimacies and what they must have looked like and felt like plagued her. She was just plain embarrassed in front of him.

“I have to hunt. I’ll be back in a few hours. Please don’t try to leave. They won’t let you, and it will cause more problems than it’s worth. There’s a pool up on the top floor in a glass atrium on the rooftop if you get bored…”

He stood without saying another word and walked from the room. He was wearing a dark suit, and he looked incredible. His hair was brown and beautiful with his glinting hazel eyes. His body was lean and tight, and he walked with grace and control. She watched him leave, imagining what it must have been like to make love to him. She had no memory of making love period, let alone what the experience of him must have been like. She felt like there was a stranger who she didn’t know or understand living in her mind—as though she was possessed for a time. Would she ever find herself again? Or was the missing link in her life too far hidden?

Chapter 16

When Truman returned, finally satiated of his own hunger, she wasn’t in their room. She wouldn’t have been let out of the building, and he set off to find her. He’d missed her when he was away, and it struck him as odd. She treated him as though he was a stranger, and it was painful, but as much discomfort as that brought him, he still wanted to be near her—needed to be near her. He felt pathetic when she saw his arousal after she’d fed off him, and he wondered if her lips on his body would always incite such a response or if he would ever be able to stifle his body’s desire. He just wanted her, and there was no hiding it from her … and part of him wondered why he should.

He found her in the pool alone. The atrium was much like a greenhouse without plants. It was completely made of glass and showed the surrounding city skyline. It was still a couple hours until dawn, and the darkness of the world with the lights of the city was amazing. She was wearing a black bikini, floating on her back in the middle of the pool. She didn’t see him immediately, and he watched her, becoming more aroused with every passing second. It was as much of her body as he’d been allowed to see for nearly six weeks, and he was responding as he always did to her. He was fully hard, and his body was begging to impale hers when she finally looked up and saw him. She watched him as intently as he watched her. She was as stunning as she’d always been in life, but her wariness was becoming difficult to stomach. She’d always shown trust in him, even when she knew his true nature. Trust had always been hard for her, but it had come so easy for them … but not now.

He was now just like every other man who had come into her life over the years. He could see it in her eyes when she looked at him, and it hurt more than anything else. During the summer, she’d overcome her fear of him even though she had no memory of him, but this place was different. Summer had been her choice at her speed in a life she was comfortable in. This place was new to her, and she was still finding her place within it. It was the worst possible place for her to get to know him again. He’d give anything to have her in his own home in Gloucester or any private place of their own outside of this fortress, but it wasn’t possible right now.

As she watched him, he decided again that his arousal and desire for her was not something he should have to hide. He’d never hidden it from her in the past, and he wasn’t going to start now. He’d never force himself on her, and that fact alone would have to reassure her she could trust him. There was nothing wrong with his arousal, and she already knew they had shared it plenty of times in the past. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, letting it fall to the ground. He then unbuttoned his shirt slowly as she watched. She was treading water and studying him at the same time. He dropped the shirt to the floor on top of his jacket, and she continued to study him. He pulled his shoes and socks from his feet, tossing them to the side, and when his hand moved to the button of his trousers and then down to the zipper, her gaze left his body … but only for a moment.

She watched as he lowered his pants and underwear to the ground, and her lips parted as she took in his arousal. She moved slowly to the side of the pool, holding on to the edge as she continued to watch. He sat on the side of the pool catty-corner from her, his hand moving to his erection with little thought to how she might perceive it. He stroked his shaft, realizing a bit late he was making her nervous, and thinking better of it, he eased himself over the edge. She watched as his body sank into the warmth of the heated water. Her gaze followed him as he approached her, and when he was facing her, she spoke. “What are you going to do to me?” She was nervous.

“Nothing at all that you don’t ask for.” When he reached to her hip, it was to pull the string tied there, and as the skimpy fabric fell away from her body, she gasped and clutched at the pieces. He took the opportunity to reach to her other hip, pulling that string as well. She scrambled to cover her body. “I want your suit off. I won’t lay a hand on you, but you don’t need to hide what I’ve already seen plenty of times in the past.” Her hands froze, and the black fabric drifted through the water to settle at the bottom. Truman placed his hands on the wall of the pool under her arms, closing all but a small margin of space between them, and leaning to her ear, he whispered, “Take off your top.” She watched his eyes for a moment but complied.

She pulled the tie at her neck, and as it was released, the fabric sank away from her breasts. She then reached to the lower strap on her back, arching her back as she did, and the fabric that covered her breasts fell away completely, and her hard and erect nipples brushed his chest. He groaned uncontrollably as he looked down at her incredible, small, round breasts that touched the pectoral muscles of his chest. It was as much of her body as he’d experienced for so long. When her hands returned to her side and her breasts pulled back from him, he watched her eyes. She was so terribly nervous, and her cool expression was guarded and judging. His body was coursing with need that he was trying to stifle.

“So, who did you kill tonight?” Always with the questions. It had always been endearing to him, but her expression was anything but sweet.

“Do you really want to have this conversation?” She nodded her response, and he obliged. “A pimp.”

“So, you’re killing pimps now too? What happened to killing pedophiles?” The accusation was apparent in her tone. She was looking for a reason not to trust him—to hate him, in fact.

He sighed in frustration. “He had twelve-and thirteen-year-old girls working for him, Ember, and he’d abused every last one of them. He was beating a twelve-year-old girl when I found him tonight.”

“Did you kill her too?” Her sarcasm was not at all appreciated.

“Of course not,” he muttered, “I took her to the hospital.”

“Is that what I was to you … what I am? Just one of many of the spoils of war you’ve come across over the years. It could be any one of them really. You could replace me with any one of those girls someday.” She wasn’t accusing now; she was suggesting—offering even, and it hurt. She was throwing out ideas as though perhaps some other victim could take her place and set her free.

He moved his lips to her ear, and letting his chest touch her still-erect nipples, he spoke through gritted teeth. “It … has … only … ever … been … you … Ember.”

She spoke quietly in his ear as well. “Why?” Her question was valid, but he didn’t know the answer.

“I don’t know. I’ve never understood my attachment to you.”

* * *

He continued to watch her, study her, and though his eyes seemed so at ease on her body, she was struggling to look up from his chin. She was still up against the side of the pool, and his hands were still at her side. He scared her, intimidated her, but her body betrayed her, and her skin was flushed, her jaw was aching, and her mind wouldn’t stop imagining what it must feel like to have his hands on her skin.

She must have accepted his touch willingly once. At one point, she must have trusted his hands to allow them on her body, but she couldn’t recall it. And so that trust was impossible to feel at this moment. She wanted to trust him. She was sired to him for eternity after all, but her missing memories left her feeling vulnerable and exposed, and that wasn’t a feeling Ember enjoyed—even if she enjoyed the way his closeness left a warmth in the pit of her stomach that radiated out to her body—a warmth she’d not felt since transitioning.

She kept lashing out at him. She knew her words and accusations were upsetting him, but she didn’t know how else to hold her ground. But in the end, it left her feeling guilty and as irritated at herself as he appeared to be with her. And the whole time, all she really wanted was to be touched and held and comforted. She was afraid of this world and craved comfort, but in her fear, every last barrier she’d learned to carry through life was in place.

“Did you love me?” The question was loaded, and she knew, though she also knew it was wrong, that she was going to hurt him with her response. It was as if she was powerless to be decent to this man in her frustration.

“Of course. You already know that.”

“It’s just too bad I don’t love you in return, isn’t it?” Her words were utterly cruel, just as she’d meant them to be, but she knew deep down it wasn’t warranted.

He said nothing as he regarded her with a clenched jaw before he moved away from her body to the side of the pool and then pulled himself out of the water. He didn’t look back once as he snatched up his trousers from the floor, pulled them on in one smooth move before grabbing his remaining clothes and walking from the room. His tie was left abandoned on the floor in his fury, and as she climbed naked from the pool, she put her robe on and grabbed the tie.

Her behavior was making her miserable. She didn’t want to hold him responsible for her unhappiness and unease in this new life, but she did. She hated that her life was attached to a man who felt like a stranger. Her memories of him were fleeting, and she had no frame of reference to hold them to aside from what she’d been told.

She didn’t disbelieve what she’d been told of their past, but it was hard to wrap her head around, and in her confusion, she was lashing out at him … and oddly, this strong and intimidating man was allowing it. She was making him as miserable as she was, and while he wasn’t hiding his own anger at her, he was giving her far more patience than she deserved.

She walked down the few flights to their floor, and when she entered, he was sitting at his desk, working on a laptop. He was still shirtless and barely looked up to her as she entered. He looked angry, and as intimidating as he could be, she was fully responsible for this mood. She approached, and as she set his tie on the desk, he grabbed it and wrapped it swiftly around her wrist twice before she could respond. He pulled her harshly and swiftly down and forward across the desk to him. His eyes were terrifying, and his nostrils were flared as he drilled into her brain with his piercing gaze. She gasped, and her mouth dropped open at his harsh actions.

“Eternity’s going to be real fucking miserable if you continue to behave this way. I’ve tried to go slow. I’ve tried to be patient. I’ve tried to be kind, even though this is killing me. You’ve never been a cruel person, Ember, and I can’t imagine what you think you’ll gain from it. If you want to be cold and mean then you’ll get nothing better from me in response. You depend on me to survive, but I won’t tolerate this behavior from anyone, not even you. You’ll get no more kindness from me until you’re ready to give it. If you’re hungry, you better learn to ask nicely because I won’t be offering. You can keep torturing us both if you choose, but I can make you just as miserable as you are making me.”

His eyes didn’t leave Ember’s while he spoke, and they were flashing in fury. His tone was seething with hatred and anger. She couldn’t possibly have expected anything less. She’d been just as cruel as he’d accused her of being, and he’d had enough. He was turning his back on her and forcing her to beg him for her needs. She deserved it.

The moment he released his grip on the tie and pulled it from her wrist, she stood and froze in front of him. Her eyes bulged in shock and fear. He continued to hold her gaze with his furious one before she finally slinked away to the bedroom. She lay down and tried to sleep. It was early morning and the drapes had been drawn, but she no longer required sleep. She could sleep, and Dr. Bremmer had explained that while it wasn’t necessary, she could sleep just as a human could. The problem was, she couldn’t rely on the exhaustion of her body to push her into sleep, and at the moment, her brain was far too active to relax enough to find this reprieve.

Instead, Ember stared at the ceiling for hours. He didn’t enter, and she could hear him clicking away on the laptop. He didn’t sleep at all that day, and she didn’t either. She just stared endlessly, wishing her brain would either give her memories back or let her escape to sleep. Neither happened, and by that night, she hadn’t moved an inch, and she was still staring.

Chapter 17

The next days passed painfully. Truman could endure long periods of time without feeding, but she needed to feed every two or three days or her body would become painfully weak. Being forced to feed only from him would keep her dependent on feeding far more often than the typical vampire, but regardless of the need she must be feeling, she avoided him, and he waited. It wasn’t until five days after the pool that she finally sought him out. He was no less offended and hurt by her than he had been on the day in the pool. He could tell she was hungry—more than hungry. Her pallor had been paling for the past two days, and he’d watched, knowing she would have to cave in. She was weak, and her feet shuffled rather than walked. Her lips looked dry and rough, and even in his anger at her, he wanted to take care of her.

He had spent endless days simply going out of his way to avoid her, but when she finally approached, staggering a bit in her thirst and weakness, he was oddly relieved. As though he still needed her near though she had so cruelly broken his heart, and he was still so incredibly hurt and angry.

“I’m thirsty.” Her voice was as weak as her body, and her eyes looked barely open.

“Kneel.” What his body wanted and what his words were saying were two entirely different things. He wanted her in his lap. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to fill her body with himself while she drank from him, but he was too damn hurt.

“What? On the floor?” Even in her near delirium, he could tell she was hurt by his order, and he felt a surge of power and dominance he wanted to exert over her. He was a man after all, and he wanted her to know his pain and that it wouldn’t go unchecked.

“Unless you’d like to go another five days without feeding.” He refused to look at her, but he didn’t need to see her face to know she was hurt, and it was satisfying in a very pathetically human way. He continued to study his work and pay her no attention for many long moments, and his heart thudded in its victory. She reached out to his desk to support her weakened body, and he allowed his gaze to shift over to her hand for a moment before moving back to his work dismissively.

She eventually sank to her knees beside his chair, and without a word, he dropped his hand down to his side. His cuff was buttoned, and as she fumbled with the button, struggling to undo it as her fingers slipped and shook, he continued to ignore her. When she finally managed to get his sleeve pushed up, she was gasping, and he could smell the scent of her tears. She lifted his wrist to her mouth and bit, sending pain up his arm, and as she sucked, he fought to concentrate on anything but her mouth. It was painful hurting her, but he was in so much pain himself, he was powerless to stop.

As the suction of her mouth lessened and her draws slowed, he finally forced himself to glance at her. Her eyes met his as well, and she was crying. Her crystalline-blue eyes twinkled with tears, and he had to stifle a moan of pain at seeing her. His anger faltered, and he was left wanting to touch her so desperately, but they just watched one another. Her beautiful lips left his skin, and she dropped his hand. Her hands were still shaking, though it likely had far more to do with their interaction than weakness. His eyes were studying her, and she sat back on her knees, meeting his eyes and glancing away over and over and over.

When she stood, he reached a hand out to steady her, and she glanced at it before looking back to his eyes and refusing his hand. She turned and left him once again, hurting. She was exceptionally good at being cruel when she wanted to be, but then again, so was he. They were destroying one another.

* * *

Ember spent the next few days pathetically trying to immerse herself in books she had no real hope of caring about, or she withdrew to the pool to float around in the weightlessness of the water every day for hours. Truman either worked at his desk or simply disappeared. One day she happened upon a meeting as she was returning to their apartment after a swim. She paused as she stepped from the stairwell onto their floor, listening to the voices. She’d been told of Truman’s duty to reclaim his family’s allegiance, and the meeting she’d stumbled upon most definitely revolved around this.

“He can keep his holdouts if he sees fit. The vast majority of your family’s bloodline has abandoned him, and you’ll have no trouble gaining their support. From what we can tell, they’re as ready to be done with Mason as we are, and most simply had no other choice but to go along with his lead. They’re tired of being shunned by the vampire community. That’s good news for you, Truman.” It was Angus who had spoken. He’d visited Ember a time or two, and from what she could tell, he was decent and genuinely concerned for her wellbeing. Angus was a handsome man, as most of the men she’d encountered in this place were. He had dark hair and beautifully contrasting light blue eyes.

Ember was learning she was likely the only female in the building, and it would appear the council liked it that way. They were terribly old-fashioned in that respect, but Ember suspected it had far more to do with the iron fist that ruled them, Sylvan, than anything else. Unlike Angus and Dr. Bremmer, Sylvan was cool to her at best on the rare occasion he’d stopped in their residence for one reason or another. He regarded her in distrust and treated her as though she was an unwelcome visitor. His behavior toward her suggested he thought of her as a lesser being than himself, and this did nothing but increase her suspicion that perhaps the vampire kind were something of a sexist bunch. Angus on the other hand showed none of these feelings in his behavior.

“The holdouts alone aren’t my concern. It was always Mason who held the power, and the holdouts are nothing but simpering spineless leaches. It’s how Mason may choose to use them. He’ll exact his revenge, and you better believe it will be aimed at the family.” Truman was speaking, and it was the first time in days she’d heard his voice. Neither of them had spoken or even looked at the other for the past three days, and it was wearing on her. Ember was getting hungry again, and it was becoming painful. But her pride or her fear or perhaps just absolute stubbornness were keeping her from approaching him—especially after the torment of last time. She couldn’t hold out much longer, but the prospect of asking was daunting.

“No, Truman. It will be aimed at you and Ember. The council will protect you, but he’ll be a threat until he’s destroyed.”

“I can take care of myself, but Ember must be protected.” Her body coursed with a sudden spark of emotion, but it flitted away as their conversation continued.

“You still care for her even though she’s given you no reason to?”

“I don’t know how I feel anymore. Her survival was all I thought about when she was dying. I never imagined this existence or how impossible it would be.” The spark was replaced by sadness. She was the one who had pushed him away, but his words hurt like a slap across the face regardless.

“Give it time.”

“We’re just torturing one another at this point.” And after a long pause and a deep sigh, he continued. “Would the council consider giving her to another to sire if I requested it?” Ember stilled at his words, and the sadness became utter despair.

She saw a flash of him in her mind. Another snippet of memory, but he was smiling at her in this one. And as she focused on this memory, she watched him stroke her skin. She could feel the emotion behind the memory for the first time, and it was overwhelming. She had cared about him. She’d been enamored with him. And she had absolutely trusted him. When the memory passed, she was left with the words being spoken from the apartment.

“It would be easier on her, and myself as well, if she was sired to someone else.” His voice sounded resigned. He’d given up.

“Truman, Sylvan would likely give you whatever you asked for. He’s simply happy to have your family represented and to finally be done with Mason. But think carefully of what you’re saying. If she’s sired to another, you’ll no longer have a say in her life whatsoever, and for a man who’s spent the better portion of her life protecting and looking after her, I find it hard to believe you could walk away so easy.”

“Well I find it hard to believe that surviving an eternity like this will be possible for either one of us. I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t stand the way she looks at me. The way she feels about me.”

Ember wanted to cry, and after standing in the hall without moving a muscle, she finally made her way to their apartment and entered. She wanted to slink away to the bedroom and hide, but the moment she entered, Angus looked up and called her over. She stood by as he greeted her, standing, and when Ember’s eyes glanced up to Truman, he was looking off in the distance, avoiding her. Angus left, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, and as the door closed behind him, Ember looked at Truman.

Rounding the desk, forcing herself into his line of sight, she spoke. “I’m hungry…” She was also exceptionally hurt by the conversation she’d overheard, but she was stifling it. Her anger, hurt, confusion—every last awful emotion she’d felt since coming to this place hadn’t helped their situation. She’d been cruel and mean as she tried to make her way through his world, and she was no better off for it. So she stowed the negativity as well as she could. She held her hands clasped in front of her, rather than crossing her arms in contempt, and she forced herself to be far more submissive than her defensive vulnerability wanted her to be.

He looked up to her, and the coolness of his eyes had her hands unclasping and her arms folding across her chest before she even registered the hurt, but the moment she caught her subconscious body language, she clasped her hands together again and spoke. “Please don’t ask me to kneel.” Her voice was quiet, and she hoped he could sense her desperation, though the wounded, vulnerable part of her psyche wanted to slap him just to maintain her footing.

He stood and walked away from her to the living room area of their open residence, and her gaze followed him. He sat in an armless occasional chair, and Ember trilled in irritation and hurt at his obvious rejection, but when he unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt, she relaxed, let go of her rejection, and approached him. When he was finished with the cuff, he moved to the opposite wrist, and she was left confused but too intimidated to ask. When he unbuttoned his collar and worked his way down his shirtfront, her heart lurched. She had no idea what he intended, but it wasn’t what she’d expected.

He shrugged out of his shirt, pulling it from the waist of his trousers, and as he tossed it aside, his eyes looked to hers. She looked down to see her arms crossed across her chest again, and she quickly dropped them to her sides. He reached for her hip, and she took an inadvertent step back from him before biting her lip and stepping back to him once again. With his hand, he guided her body to his, and with his other hand to the inside of her naked thighs, covered only by her robe and bikini bottoms, he pushed them apart to straddle his legs. She sank slowly to his thighs, facing him, and once she was seated, he clasped both of her hips with his large, strong hands and pulled her hips to his groin.

His eyes were unreadable, but the hard, insistent arousal that was fighting to break free of his pants wasn’t. She was nervous. She had no idea if he intended to fuck her, feed her, or just plain humiliate her, but as he held her body against his arousal, he dropped his head to the side, exposing his carotid artery. As her mouth moved to his neck, his harsh eyes held hers for as long as they could before she passed beyond his periphery, and her mouth found the light arterial pulse. She bit, and he let out an unrestrained moan at the pain or the pleasure or both. She’d experienced his mouth on her in this very same way when he’d sired her, and it was far more pleasurable than she cared to admit.

She drank, trying to concentrate on what her mouth was doing and not on the arousal held snuggly between their bodies. He was large and hard, and though his demeanor and harsh glare didn’t convey any want for her, his erection made it clear his body did. When she was finished and she’d released her mouth from his neck, she pulled back, and he watched her with those same intense and serious eyes. She watched his mouth, avoiding his piercing gaze. His lips were beautiful, and she was momentarily struck by a memory of his lips on hers. His mouth had kissed her tenderly as though he cared for her, and it was so very different from his demeanor right now. It was a real memory—she no longer questioned that any of them were, but she still struggled to reconcile the sweetness of that memory with the harsh and cold being that she was with now. But that was her doing, and she knew it.

She was tired of torturing them. She wanted to trust him and feel all the things she must have felt for him in the past. It was emotionally exhausting holding him at arm’s length and enduring the torment she was completely responsible for. He was still watching her with his hands on her hips, and as she stood and backed away from his body, she thanked him before turning away, but she didn’t make it far until she stopped, and mustering the last of her humble submissiveness, she spoke. “Please don’t give me to anyone else. I don’t want that.” His brow flinched for half a second as he held her eyes, but he said nothing.

She finally turned away and left for the bedroom. She could feel his gaze following her.

* * *

The following days passed in much the same way, He avoided her, and she avoided him as well. But on occasion, she caught him watching her. His eyes had softened just a little, and she no longer felt certain she’d driven him to absolutely hate her; then again, she wasn’t at all certain he didn’t hate her either. He often looked at her curiously, and she tried to keep her confusion and unrest from displaying itself as anger and cruelty.

When she would catch his eyes on her, her heart rate would instantly speed up, and she would force her eyes to hold his. It was difficult. His expression may have softened some, but he was so damn intimidating. He didn’t trust her—ironic as that was. He was waiting for her to lash out at him again, and he had no idea how much she didn’t want that. It wasn’t her. She had just reacted poorly to her new circumstances. But as much as she owed him an apology, she couldn’t muster it. Not yet.

The next time she needed to feed, she approached him cautiously. He watched her as she crossed the room. She’d just gotten back from her daily swim and was wearing only her bikini and robe. As she watched his cautious expression, she was reminded of just how much she didn’t want him to give her away. Maybe she did trust him. He was the only one she wanted to be responsible for her, and she was the one who had jeopardized it.

He looked at her—held her eyes impassively but perhaps with a bit of distrust. And when she told him she was hungry, he watched her many seconds longer before responding. “Come with me.” He stood and held his hand out to her. But he didn’t take her hand. Instead, he studied here, waiting for her to take that step, and she did. She reached out with a shaky hand and bit her lip.

He led her to the bedroom, and as they entered, he undressed. She watched, breathing shallow breaths as he removed his pants, underwear, and shirt, and climbed onto the bed naked. He was stunning and aroused. His cock was large and intimidating, but her body was flushing and trilling with the intimacy. She’d seen his nakedness before. She knew that. And she’d wanted it. She trusted that as well. He was beautiful.

Ember dropped her robe on the floor as she exhaled a terrified sigh. She was wearing only her bikini, and as she untied the back with a shaky hand, he watched. When she untied the neck, his lips parted, and his eyes fluttered. Another small flash of memory hit her at the sight and the deep inhale of breath that followed. She’d seen this response before, and it had incited intense arousal in her body as she watched it.

She reached to her hip, but he stopped her. “It’s okay.” His voice was quiet. “You better leave those on.”

She climbed onto the bed and kneeled beside his body. She was nervous, but her body was warming with a heat that seemed attached to him and radiated out from her core straight to her womb. He was breathing deeply through his nose, and he trailed his gaze down to her exposed breasts. He was studying her body, and his jaw was tense as he breathed deeply. She sat back on her heels, letting him look at her body though her heart was pounding in nervousness. She waited for him to offer her his wrist. But instead of his wrist, he took her hand. “Straddle me.” And he pulled her gently by the hand up to her knees. She did as he asked, looking down at his arousal that was high on his abdomen. She couldn’t deny she wanted to touch it, feel the length and breadth of him in her hand, but she just looked.

His hands moved to her hips, pulling her body down snug against his groin. Only the thin fabric, still damp from the pool, separated their bodies, and his arousal was high between them. When he sat up to her body, their faces were so close, and it sent a shiver through her body. He tilted his head and ran the pad of his thumb down his carotid artery. “Go ahead.”

She paused. She was nervous. It was one thing when he’d had her in this position in the living room a few days before, but on the bed, it just felt intimate, intensely sexual as though he might fuck her at any moment, and quite frankly, that she might let him. Her body was betraying her inner bitch that had played such a prevalent part of her after-death life, and part of her desperately wanted him to see just how human she still was. He scared her, even if she was intoxicated by him. He pulled back and took in her eyes, and seeing her nervousness, he reassured her and she nodded. Tilting his head once more, she leaned her mouth to his neck, and he again watched her eyes as long as he could.

She didn’t believe in the pit of her soul that she had any reason to distrust him. And if she couldn’t trust her own feeling on the matter in this moment, she could certainly trust the human she was before she died. She had trusted him, and while the memories were hidden, lurking, and wading below the surface of her mind, the knowledge she trusted him in life was not … nor was the arousal he gave her.

She sucked and pulled and tasted and satiated herself with him, and when she’d taken her need, her head sank to his shoulder. He held her, but didn’t push her for more. Her body wanted to be pushed, but her nervousness needed his patience, and he seemed to know that and respect it.

“You’re pussy’s wet. You can’t imagine how much I love the scent of your arousal. It used to drive me so crazy when I was around you that I thought I was losing my mind. I’ve missed it more than you can possibly know.” His voice was warm and soothing to her body, and she recognized it—just the tone, the sound, the delicious purr of it as he spoke. Her arousal seemed to know what her memories refused to give up—somewhere deep inside her, she knew him so intimately well.

When she lifted her head from his shoulder, he watched her, and when he reached to her hips and pulled them toward his own, she didn’t even consider stopping him, let alone being a bitch. She could feel the hardness of his length snug against her own cloth-covered wetness, and she wanted to make the fabric disappear. She wanted his body against hers—fully against hers, and she’d welcome him into her body with no hesitation.

He lay back, pulling her body down with him, and as he rolled their bodies to the side, he rose and turned off the lights. When he returned, he pulled her into his body, and she let him. She spoke the words she’d spoken without getting a response three days before. “Please don’t give me away to someone else.” She was emotional as she spoke, her voice lurching in terror as her fears came to the surface with her words. She couldn’t imagine being handed off to another person—not when her body wanted him so very much.

He shushed her sweetly before he spoke. “I’m not giving up. I just wish you could remember how good we were at this.” She wished she could too, but as wetness seeped from her body, she had to acknowledge her body seemed to remember very well, even when her mind forgot. His quiet moan at her body’s response to him was the last sound she heard before falling into sleep.

Chapter 18

Ember hadn’t woken until a couple hours after he had. He’d taken the time to speak with the council about something he wanted to do. They’d assured him he’d be given time with Ember to deal with the lifetime of memories she was missing, and he needed that time now. When she woke, he was lounging beside her. She was instantly nervous—he could smell it in her body chemistry. They had become far too comfortable distrusting one another, and he could see her sizing him up. His expression could kill her mood, and he didn’t want to be the cause of her shutting down again.

“Can you pack a bag for overnight? We’re going to take a short trip.”

She looked at him curiously but nodded. “Will they let us do that?”

“I’ve already taken care of it.” And as he watched her, he decided to push it just a bit further. “Let me taste you. I want to bite you.” She watched him for many long and painful seconds while he forced himself to hold her eyes. She finally nodded, and as he leaned into her body as she watched his body closing in on hers, he moved to her neck. He hadn’t tasted her since he’d resired her, and he wanted it—desperately.

He bit deep into her flesh, and she gasped. He knew it would hurt, but he also knew she would like it in the same way he enjoyed her feeding on his body. He could absolutely do this for a hundred lifetimes with her—now he just had to convince her she could do the same with him. But after the night before … he was finally feeling some degree of optimism. Could she fall in love with him again? He had every intention of finding out.

When she had begged him not to, he’d felt guilty for wanting to give her away, and when she asked the question, it crammed his guilt right down his throat. Her eyes were honest and desperate, and it broke his heart. But he’d gotten to the point that he was almost afraid to be kind to her anymore, fearing she would use his kindness to hurt him, but she had such an amazing hold on him, and as he had held her snug while they slept, he gave into it once again. He didn’t want any man to own her except for him, but something had to give before they ended up hating and destroying one another. She may have softened somewhat, but he could see the distrust swimming behind her eyes still, threatening to tear them apart. And he wondered if perhaps a history lesson was in order.

He pulled his mouth from her neck, having tasted and indulged in her flavor. He’d taken very little from her really, and it was a treat he’d dreamed of since siring her and tasting her flavor for the first time.

“Where are we going?” She looked nervous.

He looked to her eyes, licking her taste from his lips. “Sightseeing.” And winking at her before he could stop himself, he stood and left.

He gave her time to get ready, and when he checked on her shortly after, she looked nervous, but her bag was packed and sitting on the floor beside the bed. He picked up her bag, and she followed him from the room. It took a bit of maneuvering to get the council to go along with his request. He hoped they wouldn’t always be so managed by the council, but the council was concerned with his safety, and they weren’t willing to take any chances that the newest vampire in existence for over a hundred years might go off on a blood bender. She would likely be the most controlled and managed vampire in history—it wasn’t every day the council broke their own rules after all, and Sylvan was a stickler for his rules if nothing else.

His car was brought around by their valet, Jonathan, one of two humans who worked for them, and Truman opened her door. They set off toward Laconia, and the place they first met. It was a two-hour drive, and he was nervous. It was two hours where they could either be civil to one another or resort back to cruelty. They’d been plenty cruel to one another over the past few weeks, and he was desperately hoping they could change that dynamic. It wasn’t them, not at all.

They were quiet most of the way, and he caught her looking at him a time or two, but her face was relaxed and curious. When they were close enough that she knew where they must be going, she stilled, and she inhaled a deep and emotionally loaded breath. Ember hadn’t returned to Laconia since selling her mother’s home, and he was sure these memories would hold far more pain than pleasure. But this was where they’d begun, and he wanted to share their history with her.

When he pulled up to the dilapidated, old house that had remained vacant since the monster was killed, he could hear her heart pounding. This could upset her, but it was a chance he was willing to take. He grabbed a flashlight from the floor behind Ember’s seat, stepped from the car, and rounded to her side. He offered her his hand, and she took it. She looked pale, even for a vampire, and her eyes were focused on only the house. Her hand was shaking as he held it, but she didn’t pull away, and she let him lead her to the door. The screen door was blowing in the early fall wind, and it creaked and groaned as it was wrenched around. The door itself was locked, but it took Truman only a moment to push it off its hinges, giving them access to the stench-filled space within.

She studied him, searching for his reason for bringing her here, but she still followed. It was hard for him to return too, and as he held her hand as they crossed the threshold, he almost reconsidered. The home was filled with filth and garbage, and as they looked around, their faces mirrored one another in their disgust. He led her to the basement stairway. The door that once hung there was missing, and as he walked down the steps first, she stalled and whimpered in long-restrained emotion. Her entire body was vibrating and quivering, and she was gasping with her eyes wide and startled. He squeezed her hand with soft, reassuring pressure, and eventually, after he turned to her and held her frightened gaze with his forced calm one, she exhaled one final breath and took the first step down. As he stepped into the open space at the foot of the steps, he pulled the string on the light that hung over the center of the basement floor, not expecting it to work, and as he suspected, it didn’t. The power was no doubt off, and as he turned on the flashlight, he illuminated a space they both knew so well.

Her gaze moved quickly to the place on the wall where she’d been restrained and held captive. He watched her cross the room to the wall, and as she reached out to the eyebolt that still stuck from the cinder blocks, her hand shook.

She turned back to look at him. “Were you down here with me?” He nodded. “How could I forget something like that? I remember him. I remember … how terrified I was, his smell, his weight on top of me, and then … nothing…”

“I pulled him off you.”

“How did you kill him?”

“I tore a chunk of his carotid artery out and then drained him.”

“Was I afraid of you?”

“A little at first. But I assured you I wasn’t interested in hurting you, and then I put you to sleep, and I left.”

“I woke up, unbound, on the floor. I remember seeing him dead, and I ran. I was nearly hit by a car as I ran from the house…”

“I know. I was watching. I couldn’t stay. Too small of a town to let myself get involved, so I stayed nearby, waiting for you to come out and be discovered. I hadn’t thought it would be quite so dramatic as you nearly colliding with a car, but it certainly got you found.” He gave a slight smirk at the memory as she continued to look around. He was nervous to ask his next question, but he wanted to know. “Anything? Do you remember anything about me from that day?”

She shook her head slowly, but her brow was wrinkled and she was biting her lip. She was trying to remember. When she finally spoke, Truman’s heart pounded. Her voice was far off and distant in some long-buried remembrance. “I remember feeling relief at some point … before I woke up … and then nothing” He nodded. It was nothing more than a small memory, a feeling more than anything, but his heart thudded loudly, and he swallowed hard over the lump in his throat. It was something. She looked confused and shook her head at the passing thought.

He approached her and took her hand once again, leading her upstairs and back out into the fresh, unfettered night air. They returned to the car, and he drove them in silence to their next stop. When he pulled up outside of the house where he’d found her with Todd, they stayed in the car and didn’t even turn the car off. The house was occupied, and they just looked.

“Do you remember Todd coming on to you?” She nodded. “He wasn’t taking your rejection very seriously, and I stopped him before wiping his memory. You were drunk, and I drove you home, carried you upstairs to your bedroom, and helped you change into your nightgown. You tried to kiss me, and I rejected you before I had the chance to do something I’d regret. You questioned me, interrogated more like, on everything vampire, and then I wiped your mind again. I came to your coffee shop the next morning. I could barely take my eyes off you and your ridiculous red hair. I bought a coffee from you, and you spilled it on my table. I made you nervous…”

“Oh my God. I remember that. From the coffee shop that morning. You tipped me twenty dollars.” She was eying him curiously.

He chuckled—not something he’d done in a long time. “I didn’t wipe that memory. No need. You had no context to put me into, so my presence meant nothing to you.”

“Was I attracted to you then?”

Chuckling again, he responded, “You surely don’t need me to answer that question, but yes, very much so. You could barely function around me at the coffee shop.” And then eyeing her seriously, he spoke again. “Shall we fast-forward another few years?” This one would be rough for her, and he didn’t relish the idea of causing her pain, but it was important … just as all their memories were.

She nodded, and he pulled from the curb. He drove them to the cemetery where her mother was buried, and he walked her to her mother’s grave. She hadn’t been there since the day she’d left town, and as they approached, he listened intently to her heart as it lurched and pounded. Her tears fell, and he stood back. He wanted to hold her, and in their previous life, he would have without hesitation or permission. But this wasn’t that world. She stood staring at the headstone, and he started to think she may not be able to pull herself away. But, eventually, her tears slowed, and as she sniffed her nose, she spoke. “You took me from the cemetery, didn’t you? I remember being here and then nothing.”

“You fainted, and I carried you to my car—wiped a few minds on the way. And then I took you to my house on Newfoundland Lake.”

“And you fucked me.” Her arms were folded across her chest, and her features were pinched. If that weren’t enough, her tone and words were loaded with accusation. This was a difficult memory for her to process, and it left little doubt it was taking its toll on her disposition.

But he wasn’t interested in sullying the day, and leaning to her ear, he spoke quietly. “We’ll talk all about your first time in a while.” He was going for seductive, and the sudden beat of her heart reassured him he’d hit the mark—even if he’d yet to experience the scent of her arousal on this day together.

He took her hand and walked them back to the car, and pulling from the curb, they headed off in the early morning darkness as the first glimmer of daylight showed through the surrounding hills.

When they entered his home, she stood by the door, looking around. He watched her for a moment before taking her hand and leading her back to his bedroom. He’d never sold the home—rarely ever sold one of his properties, and this particular one held one of his most cherished memories. One he intended to share with her.

The moment he saw the bed he’d first made love to her in, he stilled. How could her memories not be plaguing her mind with this sight? His own were roaring through his brain, sending his body into a frenzy of need. It had been years since he’d been to this home, and aside from a housekeeper who came in a few times during the year to keep it up, this place had been largely abandoned since they were here last.

Leaning to her ear from behind her body, he spoke. “Sit down on the bed.” She did as he asked, and as she looked back up to him, he undressed. She watched his every move, and as he dropped his shirt to the floor, he could hear her heartbeat accelerate. When he reached for the waist of his pants, she swallowed over the lump in her throat, and when he dropped them to the floor, she looked away. But he didn’t move a muscle. He stood in front of her, waiting for her to look back at him, and after what felt like an eternity, she did. Her eyes passed over his, and as her gaze dropped to his groin and the hardened length of his erection, she finally looked, and she didn’t look away.

She was studying his body, and as he watched, her gaze traveled down his thighs and to his calves before moving back up his body. There, she stared at his pectoral muscles and then moved farther up to his neck and out along his shoulders. She looked at every inch of his body aside from his eyes, and when her eyes were finished exploring, he approached her, kneeling on the floor at her feet, and he settled in to tell her every last detail of their first time.

“I released your memories at the cemetery, so you knew me. You knew who I was to you, and you trusted me. You asked me to make love to you, and I did. You touched my cock, stroked it, tasted it, and I came in your mouth, and you swallowed every last bit of my cum.” She gasped at his blatant language but kept watching and listening. “I fingered your pussy. You were soaking wet, and when I tasted your arousal, I thought I was going to lose my mind. After a most pleasurable eternity of foreplay, I finally entered you. I was on top of you, and I pushed into your body. I could see the pain in your eyes, but you were so ready, and as I started fucking you, you pushed back to me. I could smell the scent of your blood filling the space around us, and I could barely contain my desire and hunger for you. And when I’d finished, I licked up every last bit of blood spilled from your body.”

She let out a shuddering breath at his words before finding her voice. “That sounds a bit … perverse.” She had a small, shy smile on her face.

“Drinking blood to sustain life is perverse. This was just … an indulgence.” And after a pause, he continued. “And a very nice indulgence at that.” She watched his eyes, and for the first time since her transition, he had real hope. Her heart was thudding loudly, and the slightest scent of her arousal filled his senses. Her lips were parted, and she was damn near panting. She was still nervous, but her guard was down, and she wasn’t looking at him as though he were her greatest enemy. “It was amazing. You knew me. I wasn’t hiding anything from you. You could ask me anything you wanted, and I could tell you everything you needed to know. I took you home to your mother’s house the next morning, and before I left, I buried your memory of me again. It was the most painful thing in the world to do.” His voice lurched as he spoke, and her eyes softened. “I had no idea I would never have the chance to unlock that memory for you again. I always intended to someday, but for you to have lost that…” He was shaking his head and fighting his emotions. He clenched his jaw to stifle it. “I’m so sorry.”

She was still watching, and as he struggled with the utter sadness that this most favorite memory of his might be lost to her forever, she reached out to him and stroked his cheek. It was just one short, gentle stroke, and her hand was gone far too soon, but it was her touch. She gave it willingly, and he soaked it up.

He reached for her waist, and she allowed him to pull her shirt up and over her head. She was braless, and his breath left him in a rush as he took in the beautiful swell of her breasts. “Stand.” She didn’t hesitate a moment, and as she stood, he undid the button of her jeans, lowered the zipper, and then pulled her pants down her hips, letting them drop at her ankles. He left her underwear in place, and as she crawled up onto the bed and under the covers, he watched her incredible ass move under the skimpy fabric. His cock was ready to slap him for not being more aggressive in his efforts, but his heart needed her trust first. He rose to close the drapes before the morning light was fully up. He climbed into the bed beside her, and within a moment, she’d moved close to him, and he’d pulled her into his arms.

“What if I can never remember us?” She broke the silence and stilled him.

“Then I guess we’ll have to fall in love all over again.”

“How can you be so sure that’s possible?”

“Because we’re so fucking good at it.”

She snuggled down into his chest, and they drifted to sleep.

* * *

When Ember woke, he was still lying beside her. He was asleep, and the covers had fallen from his body. She rolled to her side, propping herself up on her elbow, and studied him. His legs were strong and lean, his hip bones protruded just slightly, and she nearly reached to trace the shape of them before stopping herself. His testicles were large and so very masculine. His penis was larger than any she’d ever seen, and it was frightening in many ways. But then she’d already welcomed him into her body, and from the sounds of it, enjoyed it immensely. It wasn’t as if she was a virgin; she just unfortunately couldn’t recall what sex had been like with him.

He was stunning—every last inch of him, and when her gaze stopped at his lips, she imagined his words from the morning before. Had his mouth actually done so much to her body? Were she still human, it would bring a blush to her cheeks to think of it. He tasted her blood after he took her virginity, and just the idea sent stabs of pain through her jaw again. And as she imagined it, a memory flashed. In this memory, he was on top of her, fucking and pushing into her body. His face was incredible as it watched her closely through every swift thrust of his body, and she gasped at the imagery that was floating in her mind.

When she looked to his eyes to take in his face and reconcile it with the memory in her head, she froze. His eyes were open and on her. He was watching, and as she gasped again, she sat quickly. He grabbed her arm, and as he did, he sat up beside her. He reached for her cheek and stroked the skin lightly, and a shudder ran through her body, leaving warmth in its wake. God, he was stunning.

“Ready for the rest of our tour?” She wasn’t sure what that entailed, but she nodded her head. He climbed from the bed and walked from the room. His backside was as impressive as his front side. His bottom was strong and round. His skin was smooth and beautiful, and she wondered again how it was a man like him, who must attract the dead and undead alike in droves, had found so much interest in her.

She showered and changed, pulling her hair back in a high, messy bun before setting out in search of him. He was on his phone out on the deck, and as she approached the door, she heard him speaking.

“Well how long has it been since anyone’s had eyes on him?” And a pause while the caller responded. “Jesus, Angus, he could be anywhere. Is there any reason to think he knows where we are?” Ember could only assume they were referring to Mason, and the irritation flashing in Truman’s voice spoke volumes. “Just keep me posted.” And as Ember kept listening, the conversation shifted. “Yeah, we’re fine. She seems … okay. I guess. She’s just not my Ember. I can’t explain it in any other way.” Ember’s heart fell at his words, and she had to slink back to the bathroom, to avoid being caught with tears in her eyes. She turned on the faucet and sniffled her way through the words she’d heard.

It hurt to hear him say it, as though he were breaking her heart. But it was she who had broken his heart. She wanted to be his Ember. She was drawn to him, and every last memory that flitted through her mind increased that draw tenfold. She didn’t know how to act around him or how to show him she wanted to be his Ember because she didn’t know how to be her. What if she could never be his Ember for him again? Could she lose the only person in the world who cared about her?

After flushing her face with cold water to clear the splotchiness that even the dead get from crying, she looked herself over once quickly and sucked it up. She had to figure out how to let her guard down with this man before she pushed him away completely. She didn’t want to lose him. She didn’t know why she so passionately felt this way, but she did. It was as if the emotion she used to feel for him was operating without the memories to support it. She felt devastated by his words as though she was about to lose the most important person in her life, and yet, she didn’t actually know the person. It was confusing, but she trusted this instinct. It came from some deeply hidden part of her mind that was attached to the old her, and she had to trust the old her; it was time she put some faith in the person she used to be, trust her judgment, and live the life she wanted to live.

He was still on the deck, and he was staring off at the setting sun over the lake. He looked troubled and concerned, and as she approached, he offered her a gentle but hesitant smile. She smiled back, and she listened as the slow beat of his heart sped for a moment.

When they were on the road again, he headed for Portland as she suspected he would. It was time to review their recent history together. It was odd to think of really. These events in their relationship had happened in the so near past, yet there were gaps and holes in even this time—more so, in fact, than any other time in their history. He’d been a huge part of her life this summer. When he took those memories, it left gaps of days; entire weeks seemed a blur, and events were so very skewed.

“What do you miss most about being human?” His question interrupted the silence, pulling her from her thoughts.

She could feel the corners of her mouth pull up slightly as she answered. “Coffee.” He chuckled, and her jaw ached at his ease. “Then wine … and then food—dessert to be exact.”

“Bread pudding.” She looked at him curiously. “Yes, Ember. I know you loved bread pudding, but I think it’s curious you forgot pizza.”

“Oh yes. Pizza too.” She was smiling. A real smile. She hadn’t felt the tug of her cheek muscles for longer than she could recall, and it felt good. “What about you?” She eyed him in her own curiosity.

“Well, I’ve been dead for over three hundred years, so I’ve experienced nothing of current cuisine. I’ve never tasted pizza, and wine was a far different thing back in my day. But I miss meat. It wasn’t always easy to come by, but I hunted. I loved deer and elk. I miss that the most.”

“What about your family? Did you leave anyone behind when you transitioned?”

“No. My family was all dead. My parents died when I was still a teen, and my younger sister was kidnapped and murdered a couple of years later.” Her face fell at his words, and she suddenly had an incredible urge to touch him. He glanced at her, and seeing her reaction, continued. “I tried to take care of her once our parents passed away, but I was young and away far more often than I should have been.” He shook his head as his jaw clenched. But then he looked to her again. “It’s okay, Ember.” And then she did something that surprised even her. She did exactly what her heart was telling her to do. She reached for his hand that was hovering near the center console. He seemed shocked for a moment as her fingers touched his, but as they did, he laced their fingers together and held her hand tight within his own.

“Do you suppose it’s why you choose to hunt pedophiles and those who would harm children?” Her voice was gentle, and it was the same voice she used when she spoke to the teens at the youth shelter during a particularly intense session. She was obviously feeling comfortable given her suddenly relaxed tongue, and in her comfort she needed to pry, understand, and analyze him. It was just what she did.

He smiled, glanced at her, and then responded. “Most definitely. I’m sure you could have a field day with this one, dear Freudette, and I promise I’ll let you analyze me to your heart’s content someday … just not this day.” And he smirked before squeezing her hand.

When they reached Portland, they went straight to the college. He pulled up in the parking lot she had always parked in for class. Classes were for the most part over for the evening, aside from the die-hard professors who liked to be cruel to their students and actually keep them their full class time. They entered the building, and the halls were silent. When they reached the classroom her history class had been in, he reached to his pocket for a key and unlocked the door. Walking in was strange. So many of her class memories were confused and hazy, and she knew logically it was because he was such a big part of nearly all of those memories, but it was still hard to wrap her brain around.

She entered and saw the seat she always sat in. She could see her small class and where they all sat as well. She could even recall the boy who had asked her on a date, but when she looked at the instructor’s desk at the head of the classroom, it was as if she was seeing it for the first time. She remembered nothing of his lectures, but she remembered the content she’d studied. She remembered nothing of his assignments, but she remembered doing them. He sat on the edge of the desk, and another sudden flash of memory came up. It sent pain through her head and embarrassment through her inner self-consciousness.

She reached to the back of her head, and he smiled. “Knocked your head pretty good. Thought you might have had a concussion after that one. But I enjoyed the excuse to get my hands on you after class—albeit only your head.” He was smirking, and it sent a cold blush through her cheeks that she knew wasn’t really visible anymore; thank God for small favors. “Do you remember giving your speech?”

“Yes. It was atrocious.”

“Indeed, it was.”

She laughed quietly. “I remember it, and yet, there are just so many holes in it. I can’t remember before and after and a lot of things in between.”

“I intentionally sat in the seat next to yours while you gave your speech, knowing I could safely sit next to you for the rest of the evening while the other students gave their speeches.”

“I don’t remember that … but it sounds a bit pathetic,” she said with a hint of sarcasm. He smiled. “Did we have sex here?” She was nervous asking him about sex, and he smiled gently at her obvious discomfort with the subject.

“Yes, but only once. The last night after class ended. I’d been imaging making love to you in here all semester, and I wasn’t about to lose the opportunity. I fucked you on the desk after you sucked my cock and I tasted your pussy.” He smirked at her before shutting off the light and holding out his hand. She took it, and he led them from the building.

When they stepped out into the night, she suddenly stilled and nearly panicked. She looked to the tree nearby and thought for just a moment she’d caught a dark shape lying in wait for them, and as she pulled from Truman, he looked to her with concern etched across his expression. When she glanced back to the tree, there was nothing there, and she shook her head in confusion. He pulled her to his side and whispered in her ear. “It’s okay. Just another memory. A particularly bad one, quite frankly. But we’ll talk about that later.”

When they pulled up outside of his home, she stared, hoping for some flash of history, but there was nothing. There were plenty of memories floating around in her head; they popped up constantly. Dr. Bremmer’s hope was that her body’s regenerative abilities would help restore the broken connections, but since there was no real history of someone like her or research on the subject, no one knew for sure. The flashes of memory were common for someone who’d had their brain wiped, but most people didn’t have the same context as she. She knew there were things missing, and so she was constantly searching. The average person who’d come in contact with a vampire who’d affected their brain just saw the images as nothing more than their imagination, a passing spell of déjà vu, or remnants of a dream. Ember, on the other hand, was acutely aware of what had happened to her mind, so when she was hit with a memory, she obsessed over it and waited for the next one to present itself.

In the past twenty-four hours her interest in their history had become more intriguing, or perhaps he had. She wanted to remember him, and not because she felt lost in this world without her memories, but because the idea of these memories was intoxicating in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to consider before. He was beautiful from the first moment she woke in this world, but she’d been terrified, angry, resentful, and she’d reacted cruelly. But she didn’t want to be that person, and allowing herself to close the space between them, she was finally getting a sense of what they had been to one another, and she was desperate for more of these memories.

Chapter 19

When they arrived at his home, he helped her from the car, and they walked in together. His home was beautiful, and she was impressed beyond words. He led her upstairs, watching her carefully over his shoulder with every step. She was suddenly nervous. These memories certainly wouldn’t be innocent ones, and she trilled in excitement and fear. She couldn’t deny her attraction to him, and it left her embarrassed and self-conscious.

When they entered his bedroom, she looked around curiously. It was neat, and the bed was large and inviting. She wanted to be lying next to him, and she was flushed at the sight of the bed she’d shared with him before. Her body warmed and wetness spread. She wanted to feel his hands on her wetness, she wanted him to stroke her skin and touch her desire, and the fact that she knew he would if she allowed it didn’t help matters. She walked to the bed and looked down. He stepped behind her and leaned to her ear. “It’s nice to smell your arousal again. I’ve missed that.” His voice had her knees weak, and images of his nakedness infiltrated her mind.

His fingers trailed down the back of her arm, and she shivered. She pulsed with need, and he inhaled deeply, letting her hear his own arousal in his deep breaths. “Are you going to tell me what we did in here?” There was a slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Oh yeah.” His words were warm and seductive, and the sound of his voice had her ready to beg for his touch, and a deep, guttural moan swam through her mind. It wasn’t her sound but his, and it was from some time in their past. The sound held every last ounce of his desire for her, and she understood, truly understood beyond just being told, just what she’d meant to him. Her breath faltered and left her gasping. He walked to the nightstand as she tried to calm herself, but as he opened the drawer and reached in, her heart pounded. He withdrew his hand and pulled with it a beautiful swirled glass cylinder that sent more wetness to pool between her legs.

She knew what it was, and while she couldn’t recall ever having experienced it, she didn’t need to remember to know she had. His slight smirk showed his arousal as much as the bulge in his pants, and as he returned to her side, he reached for her hand. He placed the phallic instrument in her palm and leaned to her ear again. His breath against her lobe alone was enough to send her body into spasms of want, but when the cool glass touched her hand and she felt the weight of it, she shuddered and groaned inwardly. “I watched you pleasure yourself with this.” He paused as she listened for what was to come next. “Then I tied you to the bed, blindfolded you, and fucked you with it until you orgasmed.” He reached to her arms and trailed up to her neck, caressing and tickling her skin. “I think you offered to sodomize me with it too.” And with these last words, he chuckled. She cocked her head at his puzzling words. “Just a little misunderstanding, that’s all… You’re intense in the bedroom, but you’re not that debaucherous … yet. Not that I wouldn’t let you do anything at all you wanted to my body…”

“I can’t imagine I’d ever let a man tie me up or blindfold me. Just doesn’t seem like me.”

“It’s not very you at all. But it was very much us. Try to remember you trusted me, and it was your choice.” And as he walked away to the door leading out to the deck, he commented over his shoulder. “It was also your choice to remain tied up when I fucked you.” She could see the smirk on the side of his face, and then he passed through the deck doors.

He sat on a chair and looked up to her as she exited, and as a small smile spread across his face, she smiled as well. She wanted him. She didn’t care if she couldn’t remember him; she wanted him desperately. She looked to the bay off in the distance. “I remember this view.” It was beautiful, and she took in the bay as the moonlight reflected off the glassy, smooth surface.

“I’m surprised. You were actually sitting on my lap facing me and riding my cock the vast majority of the time you were out here.” She gasped, and he chuckled. When he rose, it was to push her body up to the rail. She could feel his arousal pressed firm to her stomach. “I know you’re wet for me, sweetie, and I want you so fucking much I can barely stand it, but we have one more stop to go.”

* * *

She was aroused as his hand traced feathery circles across the skin of her thigh as her skirt rode up in the car. She was welcoming his touch, and it didn’t appear to frighten her at all. When they pulled up to the curb in front of Ember’s apartment, she just stared up at the building. Her emotions were evident on her face, though he didn’t have any idea what they were. This was her old life, and he didn’t expect it not to come with its fair share of memories and sadness.

He grabbed her bag from the backseat as well as his own, and they walked together into the building. He pulled the key from his pocket when they reached the door, and as it was pushed open, she inhaled deeply. She was taking in the scent of her old life, and it was emotional for him just to watch. He’d shared her life here over the past summer, and it held his own secret feelings and memories as well. Truman had sent someone to gather her mail, clean out the cupboards and refrigerator, and pay the next six months’ rent. He didn’t want her hurried to make decisions about this place and her belongings, and as they entered, he saw her mail had been stacked on the table.

“Come here.” He pulled her to the bedroom, and there on her bed was an envelope. A large, flat one. He’d asked Angus’ assistant Clint to look specifically for this envelope and leave it here, so it was no surprise to him to see it lying on her bed, propped on the pillows. Ember’s eyes, however, registered confusion and curiosity. When she approached and picked it up, she saw the postmark from her school, and she inhaled a quick breath. She sat and looked up to him. He smiled down at her in response, and she tore it open. Her diploma was enclosed. She teared as he watched her carefully, and he sat beside her. “Congratulations.” He murmured the word warmly against her temple, and she allowed her head to find the indentation below his clavicle. He wrapped an arm around her, and she was still and calm in his arms.

There was a contentment about her that he hadn’t seen since her death. “Do you think I’ll ever be able to work?” Her voice was hopeful, and when she pulled away from his body, she looked to him, nibbling at her lip. He could tell she was nervous about the answer, and he understood. He’d always worked, and an eternity without a passion of some sort could be a daunting prospect.

“Give it time. Many of our kind work, and I think they’ll loosen up with you after a while. I’ll do what I can to see to it as well.” He meant every word he spoke. He had every intention of fighting tooth and nail to see she was treated as any other of their kind. He wanted her to be happy, and he knew this was going to be part of her happiness.

“I should take a shower.”

He didn’t want to hear those words. “Not a chance. You smell too fucking good the way you are.” She’d softened and loosened up considerably on their trip, and he was relaxing for the first time in weeks at her new disposition. He wanted to make love to her, but then, he wanted to make love to her even when she was breaking his heart. He didn’t expect her to, and he wasn’t entirely sure it would even be wise, but he wanted it, and the scent of her arousal made it clear she did too. His conscience wanted to wait until she either remembered him, trusted him, or just plain fell in love with him all over again … but his cock just wanted to fuck the hell out of her. That was the trouble with settling wars between his head and his cock—they were seldom on the same page, and his cock was usually begging to slap his brain while his brain wanted to chain his testicles to the wall.

She looked at him as he took her diploma from her hands and set it on her dresser. He crawled onto the bed beside her and pulled her to face him. It would be dawn in a couple of hours, and there was still so much he wanted to tell her before they could sleep. “This is where we were the last time we were together.” He swallowed hard over the emotional lump in his throat, and his brow flinched at the memory. Her face softened, and she looked concerned. “We ran into a man outside of the college after the last night of class. He was the vampire who would eventually kill you and turn you.”

Her eyes widened. She knew the events of the night that she was bit, but she had no idea what led up to it, and while he was dreading filling in these utterly painful memories that were hard for him to stomach, he wanted her to know. “That night at school after class, he was relaying a message from Mason, telling me that I needed to report to Boston immediately. I took you home and left. I didn’t know what to expect, but I knew it couldn’t be good, but what I never expected to happen is the nightmare that did.” He was still swallowing hard over his words, and she was still eyeing him with her own concern.

“The man’s name was Thomas, and he was Mason’s brother if that explains Mason’s absolute desire to destroy me. And what I didn’t know at the time was that he didn’t leave town after we ran into him in the parking lot. He was here, and I watched from Boston as he videotaped himself with you.” Ember gasped, and he quickly continued. He needed to get through the details. She had no idea what had happened, and he didn’t want her imagination to get too far away. “He didn’t rape you. But you were sleeping, and he woke you, threatened you, and he … touched you. You were so scared, Ember, and it nearly killed me.” His emotion was hitting like a freight train, and he was gasping for breath as his body crumbled and fell apart in front of her. “You were just so fucking scared. Oh, God. It was…” He was shaking his head. She had tears in her eyes, and he pulled her body close.

“He was behind you on the bed, and you were sitting up. He was threatening to kill you if you made a sound. Your eyes were so wide and terrified, and when his hands moved over your body, you started to cry, and I started to beg. He touched your breasts, and he put his fingers in you, and I thought I was going to die, and I just kept begging. Mason finally called him off. They knew I would do anything they asked, and I did. He told me I had to wipe your memory or kill you. Thomas wiped your memory of him before he left, and I came home to you.” He could feel her breath against his chest and wetness from her tears there as well.

“When I arrived back here, you were sleeping. I held you. It was all I could do at that point. I was devastated. He exhaled a deep and heavy sigh of emotional baggage, and she pulled herself even closer to his body.

“I’m so sorry, Truman.” Her voice was so quiet as she spoke, and when he pulled her back to look at her, she leaned to his mouth and finally kissed him.

Her lips felt cool like his but still so very familiar. Her taste hadn’t changed at all, and she allowed his tongue to pass over her lips and delve within. She was soothing his pain in the way only she could, and it left him wanting to sob. He reached to her cheeks, clutching her face to his, and their passion ignited quickly. She was grasping his body and pulling him hard to her own, and when they finally parted, she spoke. “Will you make love to me?” She instantly bit her lower lip, and he smiled.

“I thought you’d never ask.” His voice was quiet, but even as he spoke the words, he was suddenly nervous.

He wanted her so much, but when it came right down to it, was she ready? Or was he going to do more damage than good to her trust in him? She must have seen the worry in his expression because she moved her hands to his cheeks, pulling his mouth to hers. “It’s okay. Please.” She whispered the permission he needed, and he found he couldn’t stop anymore on this day than he could the first time she’d asked so many years ago.

“Undress me.” He gave her his most seductive voice; the one that usually ended in her arousal and his too when her subtle and light musk hit his senses. As if on cue, her body responded, and his cock flexed against the fabric of his pants.

He watched her face as she reached out to his body. He’d worn a black V-neck T-shirt on this day, and as her fingers worked up under the shirt and pushed it toward his head, his muscles twitched in response to her touch. Her fingertips were cool, and while he’d loved her warmth in life, he loved her touch just as much in death. It was a new touch—timid but electrifying. It was like feeling her touch for the first time all over again. When she reached the level of his pectoral muscles, she grazed over his hardened nipples, and his stomach muscles twitched again. He lifted his shoulders from the mattress as she pulled the T-shirt over his head, and once his chest was bare, he pulled her down snug against his chest. He could feel her rock-hard nipples through the fabric of her own shirt, and his lips claimed hers, sucking one and then the other between his own lips.

He pulled her shirt off over her head as well and found she was again braless. He wanted her always that way. Her small breasts were perfect, and he loved that she didn’t try to make them more than they were with thick padding and wires to push them to the sky. Besides that, he loved seeing her nipples through cotton—her very favorite understated fabric of choice. She made simple look so fucking amazing.

He bent to her breast, capturing the nipple between his teeth and clamping down with a cautious and well-controlled nip. She cried out, but it was all pleasure, and when her hands traveled to his waist, he moaned in overlong anticipation for her hand on his cock. He’d dreamed about it more times than he could recall since the last time he felt that touch, and now that it was here, and he no longer had to fear it wouldn’t happen again, he was in ecstasy and so completely relieved.

She undid the button on his faded, old jeans, and he was still hunched over her breast, pulling her nipple deep within his mouth as her fingers passed beyond the waistband. She unzipped his pants with one hand as she used the fingers of her other hand to caress downward under the waistband of his underwear. She pulled the jeans down his hips as he lifted his hip from the mattress, and with one smooth move, she had his jeans down to his thighs.

He trailed his fingers down to the waist of her jeans too, and he was already fantasizing about sinking his fingers into her wetness. He could remember the feel of her wet arousal coating his fingers so well, and he was nearly ready to tear her clothes off, but he was also enjoying the intimacy their slow build-up was bringing. He undid her button and lowered her zipper, and after he’d pulled his own jeans the rest of the way off, he inched hers slowly down her hips, letting his mouth kiss and suck its way down her abdomen.

She was trembling as his mouth tasted her skin, and when he’d reached the top of her underwear line, he looked to her eyes and smirked. He inched her underwear down her hips and inhaled her essence deeply through his nose as she watched. He couldn’t wait to get his lips and tongue on her pussy, and it was excruciating being patient. He kept inching the waist of her underwear farther down as his mouth continued to kiss and lick trails across her abdomen and then farther down to her sex, and when he’d exposed the top of her lips, he dipped his tongue into the cleft and pushed down to her clitoris. Her hips jolted, and he pulled back, tormenting her.

Her taste was exactly as it had been before, and he pulled her underwear down lower to expose what he intended to devour. When he murmured “beautiful,” her breath caught in her throat, and when he pulled her underwear completely off her legs and tossed them to the floor, a tremor ran through her body. He pushed between her legs and leaned his mouth down to hers. She was nervous, and as his cock tickled her stomach, she watched him. “Will you taste me?” She nodded shyly at his word, and with her agreement, he rolled their bodies to their sides, and he delved into her mouth with his tongue. He stroked her tongue and tasted her taste, and when he’d had his fill, he spoke quietly in her ear. “I’m going to eat your pussy while you suck my cock. Now, lie on your back and spread your legs wide for me.”

She rolled to her back as he had asked, and Truman propped himself up on his elbow to gaze down at her. His mouth found her nipples again, and he laved, licked, nipped at both, torturing her arousal. His hand moved back down to the cleft of her pussy, and he stroked his middle finger down between the lips. She was wet, and his finger glided easily and smoothly over her tight nub on its way down to her entry. Her body shuddered and her stomach muscles clenched, and when his finger found her opening, he pushed slowly inside. She moaned, and he did too at the intense sensation of her moisture surrounding his flesh. He stroked in and out of her body, sitting up further to watch the penetration. His finger glistened in her cum, and he pushed and pulled, his cock aching to invade her with every thrust of his finger. She kept her legs open wide in invitation, and when her hips writhed, he plunged another finger in with the first.

If her groan was intense the first time, it was downright guttural with this second finger. She pushed her hips down to meet his fingers as they pushed up, and he quickened his strokes as he continued to watch the penetration. He was pushing his still-clothed cock against her thigh, humping her body in desperation, and when he rose to his knees beside her, it was only long enough to strip his underwear from his body, mount her body with his head at her groin and his own at her mouth, and then lower his mouth to her wet and needy pussy. She cried out as soon as his tongue touched her clit, and he felt her breath exhale in a whoosh against his cock that was hovering over her face. She grasped his hips as she moaned in pleasure, and the moment she recovered her senses enough to function, she grasped the shaft of his cock in her hand.

Her lips were tentative as they tasted him, and at the feel of her lips passing over the head of his throbbing cock, he moaned against her wetness that he was still tasting and pleasuring, and when she set a pace, pulling him and sucking him within her mouth, he set his own pace licking and thrusting his fingers deep within her. She came quickly, gasping and humming with the thick and engorged head of his penis within her mouth, and as she moaned and writhed beneath his body, he pulled his wet fingers from her body and reached down between their bodies, pulling his cock from her mouth and replacing it with his fingers coated in her arousal. It was intoxicating sharing the taste of her arousal with her, but it was more to keep himself from coming in her mouth.

He slowed his tongue on her clit as her body relaxed again, and she started to explore his bottom with her hands. She caressed the strong cheeks of his buttocks. Her fingers trailed down the cleft of his bottom, and he stilled at her touch. It was intimate, and she was slow and methodical in her touch. When her hands reached the junction of his bottom and his thighs, her fingers trailed over the underneath side of his testicles. They tightened at the touch and pulled up tight to his body, and when her hands traveled lower to the backs of his thighs, she gripped the tight muscles with her hands before they moved back up to his buttocks.

She gripped the cheeks with her hands. She squeezed and kneaded the muscles, soothing the tension their intimacy was causing. And as she continued to stroke and grip his cheeks, he kissed the insides of her thighs. Her own mouth found his testicles, and she gently licked the sac and traced the contour. She sucked one testicle into her mouth, lightly pulling and laving the flesh. Her hand cupped the weight of them in her palm, and once she was finished, her mouth moved to the inside of his thighs as well.

He was busy brushing kisses along her bikini line, which incited a gasp of breath, and when her lips found his cock again, he allowed her to pull him within her mouth for a few moments before pulling away and righting his body to lie next to her.

“Are you ready?” His voice was quiet as he watched her eyes for any sign he shouldn’t proceed, but she nodded without hesitation. She may well be nervous, but she wasn’t the least bit unsure about what she wanted.

He moved between her legs, nudging her knees far apart with his own knees, and as he kneeled back on his heels, he looked at her. He moved his hands to her hips and caressed her stomach and abdomen, and he thrust his hips against her groin. His cock slid between the slick, wet lips of her vagina, and with every stroke, her body readied itself more and more for his invasion. The head of his cock passed over the tight bundle of nerves, and her head fell back as she moaned.

He remained upright as he pushed his cockhead down to her entry with his hand, and when he slowly pushed into her channel as she cried out, he forced her hips down over his cock as he pushed his hips forward into her body. He watched her whole body as he sank to the hilt inside of her, and when he reached her core, she moaned loudly, and he pulled back slightly. He didn’t want to hurt her, and his invasion had filled her completely. He leaned down to close out any space between their chests and held her eyes as she watched him with her lips parted and her breath shuddering and lurching. He pulled slowly from her depths, and when he pushed back in, he moved millimeter by slow millimeter, holding her eyes as his length invaded her body slowly. She didn’t shy away from his gaze, and when he was buried inside her once again, he leaned to her ear. “We are so fucking good at this.” His voice was warm and seductive, and as she heard his words, her pussy gripped and tightened around his shaft, and he groaned at the intensity.

He plunged and retreated, and she watched the movement of his body. She held his biceps as he rocked their bodies back and forth from one another. Her fingers dug into the muscles, gripping him in her mounting orgasm, and when she came, she cried out loudly before he captured her lips between his own and thrust his tongue into her mouth. She was moaning against his mouth, and he kept pushing harder and harder into her body. He let her regain her strength before rolling their bodies and letting her take the lead.

She looked down at him, and he reached for her hands. Her hips started moving, and she watched his eyes in nervousness. “God, you feel so good.” He murmured the words to put her at ease, but there wasn’t a lie in anything he said. She was tight and gripping him as though she thought he might dissipate beneath her body. She rose and pushed down, and he helped her balance with their fingers woven together. He clenched his buttocks, driving his arousal deeper within her body as she sank over his body, and as his own orgasm mounted, he pulled her hands up above his head, forcing her chest to drop down to his. She gripped the slats of the headboard as she continued to force her body back onto his erection. When his release was imminent, he wrapped his arms around her body, held her securely to him, and tightened his buttocks, driving his cock deeper and deeper and harder and faster into her body; she held tight to the headboard, allowing him to use her body.

He came with a growl as he drove harder into her body than he’d ever done before, and as she cried out at the harsh invasion, she dropped her head to his shoulder and moaned against his neck. His body was spasming beneath her, and his cum was being released in pulsing jets deep inside her vagina. He didn’t let go of her or allow her to move away. He held her close to his with his cock still buried inside her body as she rested against his chest and nuzzled into his neck.

His voice was quiet in her ear as she listened to the last of their history lesson. “That last night when I returned from Boston … I told you I loved you for the first and only time, and you told me the same. I was losing the only thing in the world that meant anything to me, and I wasn’t sure I could survive it … or that I wanted to. I wiped myself from your memory, and I left you sleeping alone in this bed to live the rest of your life without me.”

Her arms tightened their hold on his body, and he nuzzled into her neck. He held her endlessly, and she allowed it. He could hear the slow beat of her heart in her chest. It was a long time after, hours perhaps, when he slipped his spent cock from her body and eased her over to her side to face him. She slept, and he watched her.

Chapter 20

Ember woke when the sun had only just started to set. She was content, optimistic even, and after she crawled from bed, she stood for a long time staring at the diploma on her dresser. A small smile spread across her lips as she looked at it, but it only lasted until she heard Truman answer a call from the next room, and she grew cold.

“We’re coming back shortly. Why? What’s happened?” Ember froze and listened. “My God. That’s over a quarter of my fucking family. How?” He was silent as he listened to the person on the other line, and Ember’s heart thudded as she listened for any clue. Suddenly, the door was shoved open. He covered the speaker on his phone before speaking. “I can smell your adrenaline, dear, never mind the sound of your racing heart. Don’t hide from me.” His gaze was serious, but he wasn’t upset. He was worried, angry, concerned. He held his hand out to her, and she followed him to the kitchen.

He was wearing nothing but his jeans, and when he entered the kitchen, he sat in one of the table chairs and pulled her down to straddle him with her naked body. “No, Sylvan, listen to me. I want the rest of them moved to the council building. It will only be temporary, but they obviously can’t stay in my family’s building. The council’s building is the safest place for them to be, and I’m not interested in giving Mason a chance to destroy what’s left of my bloodline.” There was silence as Sylvan responded before Truman spoke again. “Don’t be ridiculous. You have no reason to even have me at the council table if my entire family has been obliterated. So, yes, their protection is the council’s problem.” He hung up without another word.

“Will you tell me what happened?” Ember studied him. He was thinking and considering what he wanted to say. “Please. You have no reason to lie to me.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that. I just don’t want to worry you.” A long sigh later, he continued—his words tumbling out in frustration. “Mason just wiped out four of my family members. He and his cronies attacked during the day. Went room to room, dismembering one after the other until the rest of my clan finally had a chance to react and fight back. He’s hell-bent on destroying us, and I’m leaving my family high and dry staying in the council’s building with you. I…” She pulled from his body swiftly at his words. She couldn’t help it. His words hurt, and he didn’t appear to even realize he’d said anything wrong, but as she pulled, he pulled back and held her tight in his arms. Leaning to her ear, he shushed her. “God, Ember, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. Please … listen to me.” He pulled back from her, studying her expression, and he leaned to her mouth and kissed her. It was gentle and sweet, and it did the trick. Her anger abated. She didn’t want to be angry with him anymore. She didn’t want to return to the negativity of the last few weeks, but she also didn’t want to be the reason his family suffered, and if there was truth in that statement, she needed to know.

When his mouth parted from hers, he spoke. He controlled his words carefully while he watched her face. “I dethroned their leader, and I left them with no protection, no order whatsoever. I’ve never given much thought to my family, but they’re my responsibility now, and I can’t just let them be knocked off like cattle at slaughter.” His eyes were soft now, and he looked more helpless than anything.

“I didn’t mean to sound like I blame you. I need to be with you. I want to be with you. I just … I just feel so fucking helpless. Sylvan is handling me with kid gloves, and it’s driving me crazy. He’s not letting me do anything to protect my family, and yet he doesn’t want to give my family refuge in the council’s building until we can destroy Mason. So my bloodline has just been abandoned.” He dropped his head to Ember’s shoulder, and it was her turn to soothe him. She massaged the tight stress in his shoulders, and she held her chest close to his, nuzzling her own face into his neck.

As her mouth met his neck, her teeth instantly ached, and she whimpered without intention at the pain. He pulled quickly from her and found her eyes. He reached with a gentle touch to her lips and pulled up with his thumbs to see her protracted teeth. She couldn’t help but be embarrassed when he saw her in this way. Odd, considering he was built just the same way, but she hadn’t yet gotten used to her new physiology, and it left her feeling self-conscious.

“You have to tell me when you’re hungry. You’ll get weak quickly when you don’t feed, and you’ll never be as strong or satiated as long as us because you’re feeding from me.” And then his gaze dropped, and he continued again quietly. “I wouldn’t have wished this on you. Being completely dependent on me may be a complete turn-on to me, but it’s hardly ideal for you.” He was smirking when he said the last part, and as he dropped his head to the side, exposing his neck, she kissed his lips gently. She could feel the smile pulling up the corners of his mouth as her lips met his, and once she was done, she moved her mouth to his neck and bit.

He sighed as she sucked, and he ran his hands from her hips down to her bottom. He pulled her hips toward him, and as he did, she flooded with wetness. She slowed her sucking, concentrating on his hands on her buttocks, and when her mouth slowed, he chuckled. “Taking your time, are you? Would you like to be fucked while you’re feeding on me, is that it?” It was, but saying it out loud wasn’t going to happen. “Say it. Ask me for it.” Or maybe it would…

“Please fuck me.” She was whispering, and he had to have known she was terrified.

“Of course … but only if I can bite you too.” She pulled from his neck where she was doing little more than licking the trickle from his neck. “Don’t worry. I won’t take much. I promise you’ll enjoy it.” She didn’t doubt, and when she nodded, he smirked and his eyebrows shot up. He looked carefree and young, though she knew well he was neither, and he prodded her just a bit more. “Might want to take my pants off if you wanna fuck me, eh?”

She reached for his waist and undid the button, and then pulling her body back from his, she slid the zipper down. His penis thrust up through the parting fabric, and she inhaled sharply at the sight of him and just what effect it had on her body. She was wet, trembling, and ready to beg him if need be. She stood as he raised his hips from the chair and slid them quickly to his knees, and the moment his butt hit the chair again, he grabbed her hips and pulled her back down to her place against his groin; the only difference this time was that his engorged cock was snug against her own wet sex, nestled between her lips.

His lips found hers, and he plunged his tongue into her mouth. She matched his passion with her own insistent lips, and when he trailed his mouth to her neck, he did as he said he would. His teeth sunk in as pain radiated up her neck. He pulled his teeth from her neck and slowly and seductively licked her skin as her blood trickled down. He lifted her hips, and he took a break in laving her skin only long enough to whisper in her ear. “Put my cock in your pussy.” She moved her hand between their bodies, and when her fingers touched the head of his cock, he groaned and kept licking and kissing her blood away.

She guided his engorged head to her entry, and he slowly pulled her hips down over his shaft. She moaned as the invasion took over her body and filled her to her depths. His hands pulled her hips back and forth to his body, and she moved her mouth back to his neck; she had to bite again as he’d started to heal from her previous bite, and as her teeth sunk in for the second time, he gasped and moaned. She pulled, and he kept her hips moving to his. He moved his mouth to her skin once more, and he licked the blood that was trickling. She could feel the wounds already healing, and as the last of her blood was licked clean from her neck, he tilted his mouth up to her ear. “You taste so fucking good. Now you better hurry up and finish, because I wanna pound your pussy, and I’m afraid if I do with your teeth in me, you’ll tear my throat clean out.”

Wetness flooded her core again, and he chuckled even as he pulled and pushed her hips to and from his body. It was a gentle rhythm that felt incredible as he penetrated and retreated in shallow strokes that never fully invaded or fully left her body. But she was already fantasizing about just what “pounding” might mean.

She drank her fill and pulled her teeth from his flesh as she sat upright. He stopped her hips and lifted her from his lap, letting his cock spring back to fully erect against his stomach. He stood swiftly and turned her to the table. When he asked her to climb on top, he held out a hand to help, and when she was on her hands and knees on the table top, he asked her to spread her knees out wide. Damn good thing she was limber and strong in her new form. Her sex was left mere inches above the tabletop with her knees out wide and her bottom pushed back toward him. Her chest was dropped to the tabletop, and the cool surface soothed her nerves as he stroked the skin of her bottom.

There wasn’t a single inch of her flesh that was hidden from him, and as he touched and stroked and squeezed, she excited. His fingers grazed over her anus, and she clenched her muscles and pulled forward at the feel of his fingers there. He returned her hips to exactly the place he wanted them, and he didn’t release his grip. He leaned down to her exposed bottom, and he took one slow and gentle lick from the exposed cleft of her vagina all the way up to glide over her anus. He then blew a gentle breath on the skin, and she again clenched. “Does that feel good, baby?” His voice was warm and masculine, and it innervated her arousal yet again.

“Yes.” It was barely audible as she uttered the words.

When she heard the chair being pulled across the floor, she stilled. Once he’d sat, his finger trailed between her slick, wet lips, and he parted the skin to expose her entry. Again he blew a gentle, cool breath on her skin that felt scorching hot even in her own cool temperature. When his mouth connected to her skin, she groaned, and he licked and sucked at her skin. He sank his tongue into her body, and he plunged his tongue in and out as his hands grasped her buttocks and kneaded.

He pulled one hand away from her bottom and moved up between her legs, and as his fingers gently plucked and caressed her clit, her muscles danced and twitched. His touch teased her body, and his finger kept up its torment as his tongue continued to delve and plunge into her. When she orgasmed, she cried out, and he held her hips still. He stood behind her body still stroking her pussy that was beyond drenched, and when she felt his cockhead nudge her vagina, she held still and waited.

* * *

His penetration was swift as he filled her up with himself. He was beyond any sort of restraint after torturing her and himself with her body. Her skin was smooth as silk as he’d grazed his fingers over her body. She’d pulled away from his more invasive moves, and he loved seeing her tremble in excitement and nervousness at his touch.

But when it came time to fuck her, he was done with restraint or patience or any number of other appropriate approaches to her body. He thrust hard to her center, and she cried out when he hit her depths. Her hips were firmly within his grasp, and she was powerless to escape his pace and vigorous rhythm as he pounded one stroke after another into her tight channel. Her moans and the intense flood of arousal had him certain there was no reason to worry, and as he continued to plunge and fuck her hard, pulling her hips harshly back to his, his orgasm mounted quickly and left him fighting to control it. He managed to hold out until she fell apart, and as she reached her climax, he let go of himself, and with one final deep, powerful thrust, he spilled himself in her depths, and she collapsed on the table.

As he pulled back from her body, watching his length leave her tightness, he trilled in masculine, dominating power. He loved her too much to ever use that power against her, but he also loved that strength. It was the strength that would die fighting for her and would gladly kill anyone who ever tried to harm her. It was also the strength that liked to plow into her tight wetness like a freight train to claim her body as his property. It was exhilarating, and as he left her body, he watched as his cum seeped from her body. He touched her entry and stroked his finger into her vagina, coating his fingers in his cum as he plunged and stroked gentle, slow penetrations through his own mess.

Once he finally collapsed back onto the chair and she slid off the table, he pulled her into his arms and held her close. “Too rough?” He was concerned even though he knew by her body’s reaction that she’d enjoyed it. Ember had experienced enough terror at the hands of a man, and he didn’t ever want her to associate him with the monster who tried to rape and murder her as a child. She’d never fully recovered from that incident; it showed in her response to every man who ever approached her over the years—aside from him. And he intended to keep it that way.

She shook her head and kissed him as if to reassure him she was fine. Even if he hurt her, she would physically heal quickly, but the emotional damage would be irreparable, and he sighed in relief that she was truly okay with how they’d made love. He liked it gentle just as often as not, and it was entirely dependent on his mood. He knew he wouldn’t always want to take her so roughly, but it wouldn’t be the last time he’d be overrun with the need to consume her body either. But she’d enjoyed it, and he was relieved.

They had to return to the city, and he wasn’t happy about it. His family was being destroyed, and he was powerless to do anything. Mason was a constant threat, and the council was making it impossible for him to fight back. He had always stayed out of the business of the vampire world. He’d taken care of himself, hunted, and once Ember came along, stalked her endlessly. But their lives, Ember’s and his, now depended upon his new place in their world, and while he may have shunned it in the past, he didn’t have that choice now.

He had never wished his family ill; he had simply not enjoyed the politics of it all. He had seen most of his family as greedy and corrupt, but now with Mason gone, he was realizing the majority were simply going along with Mason. Now they were being decimated and destroyed, and before too long, there’d be no one left. The council was his protection, but Ember was his only real concern. Mason would use her if he could get his hands on her, and the council, Sylvan specifically, would care little, so long as they could keep him around to represent his family. What they failed to understand was that if anything ever happened to Ember, he would no longer care about any obligation he had to them. It was Ember they needed to worry about. Without her in his life, he would disappear again from their world.

He simply needed to be rid of Mason so he and Ember could begin a life together without the threat of him looming over their heads. He didn’t want to remain in the council’s residence with her permanently, and he wanted more than anything to live away from this world with her. He wanted her in his Gloucester home, and while he was more than willing to maintain his place at the head of his family, he wanted his privacy with her. He wanted her to work, and he wanted to be able to do the same. He wanted to marry her and share the rest of their long lives together in peace and private. He wanted and wanted and wanted for so many things for her and for himself included, and as happy as he was to finally have her affection again, even if she didn’t have her memories, they were far from having safety and security and a road to all of his many wants. He simply had to make it happen.

When he told her they needed to leave, her face fell, but she nodded. She understood, and his heart warmed at her want to stay here with him—even if it wasn’t possible. He leaned to her mouth again, dipping a gentle tongue between her lips and tasting her smooth, silken skin. He could still taste the subtle hint of his own blood, and he had to admit, he loved she had to take all of her wants and needs of the world from him alone. He meant it when he said he wouldn’t wish it on her; it was a chain she didn’t deserve, but if she had to be tethered, there was no one he’d rather see her tethered to than him.

Chapter 21

She allowed him to hold her hand as he drove them back to Boston. He hated every mile that took them closer to their problems and threats, and he wanted nothing more than to run away with her. She watched him with a curious expression. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like for her, knowing so many things were missing from her mind. He felt guilty for it, but he also knew well enough his hand had been forced in the matter. He’d never wanted to wipe months of himself from her life, and he knew even as he was being forced to do it there would be consequences. But the expression on her face now wasn’t anger, resentment, distrust, or any of the other many negative emotions she’d felt toward him over the past many weeks. It was curiosity.

She studied him as he stroked her hand. When he’d catch her watching, he’d smile, and her eyes would flit away in shyness. Of course she felt shy in front of him. It was simply her nature for one, and for another, she still had no idea just how intimate and deep their relationship and commitment went. It was like the proverbial morning after all over again. He’d made love to her countless times, but for the Ember in this place and time, it was the very first time with him; hell, it was the very first time period. Her body wasn’t technically a virgin when he’d made love to her the night before, but her emotions were completely virginal, and the look in her eyes right now showed it clearly. And he was enjoying her sheepishness very much.

“Did I always enjoy sex like I did last night … and this morning?” Her eyes were still shy, but she held his as he glanced to her.

He smiled as his eyebrows shot up. “Oh, yeah. You were insatiable from the word go. Nervous, tentative, and so damn shy … not so different than you are now … but you always let me push you, and you always enjoyed what we did together.” Could she blush, she’d be scarlet, and his brows shot up again. He squeezed her hand as he finished his statement.

She was silent the remainder of the trip, and when they pulled to the curb outside of their building, he caught the look of unease on her face before she offered a small smile. He leaned to her mouth as the valet Jonathan waited patiently by the side of the car. He kissed and pulled her lips between his own. The quiet, wet sound of their lips was causing his groin to tighten with every sweet, suctioned, smacking sound. He was ready for her again, not that there was anything new about that, and it was only after his mouth had its fill of her taste that he finally opened the door and rounded to Ember’s side of the car. Jonathan continued to wait patiently for him to hand over his keys, and as he walked Ember to the curb, he nodded to the man, and Ember smiled at Jonathan before his car was pulled from the curb to be parked in their underground parking garage below the building. He pulled her into a tight hug and a sweet kiss before pulling her behind him toward the entrance to their building. His entire being was begging for her at this point, and his brain was going over every last step they would have to make before he could get inside her body again.

It was only when Ember suddenly yanked her hand from his that he stopped moving. He’d just stepped into the building’s overlarge revolving door, intending to pull her into his section with him, but as he rounded to her in surprise, the glass partition was pushed inward, closing him off from her. Behind her and holding her up against the glass separating them was a man he knew well. Mason held her throat in his grasp, and she was still as a statue as she held Truman’s gaze. For the briefest of moments, Truman wondered why she wasn’t struggling until he saw the syringe with its needle impaled fully in her neck. It wasn’t yet discharged, and he could see the blood in the clear cylinder.

Truman’s panic built as he looked to her face. Her entire body was vibrating in fear, and her slightly parted lips were quivering. Her eyes were wide, and her tears sat barely restrained on her lower lids. As her eyelids fluttered, first one tear and then another trickled down her pale, smooth cheeks. Truman tried to control the grimace at what he was seeing for her benefit, but it was useless.

Two of Mason’s men were standing on the outside of the building holding the back glass partition of Mason and Ember’s section, and as he tried to force his partition backward and then forward, they held tight to the door, keeping it in place. Truman was trapped and being forced to watch. He knew what was in the syringe, living human blood—the most toxic substance that could be introduced into her nonliving bloodstream. He had no idea how much her body could take without it killing her, and he was desperate, crazed, in his need to reach her before it was too late.

His hands were on the glass, and he was looking at only her eyes as he fell apart in panic. He slammed his body against the glass, but it was no use. The building was designed to protect his kind—ironic that Mason would be able to use this very thing to destroy him. He slammed his fist against the glass, hoping against all hope he was strong enough to shatter it, but instead, he listened as his bones splintered and crunched under the force. The pain was present, but his body and mind were focused solely on her, and he felt nothing.

When Mason slowly pushed the syringe’s plunger, Ember’s eyes bulged and Truman let out a ferocious howl of emotional pain. He was yelling and screaming, kicking and punching at the glass. When Mason bit into her neck, he sucked and pulled harshly against her throat, and her pale skin paled further under the draining effect of Mason’s vigorous feeding. Her eyes were fluttering, and she was struggling to focus on him, and all Truman could do was hold her eyes as long as they remained open. When they closed and Mason pulled from her, he let loose her body, and she crumpled to a heap on the ground in front of him.

Mason licked his lips as Truman watched and kicked her limp body once before slipping out the crack in his section that led to the exterior. One of the men with him wedged a piece of rebar into the track of the rotating door, sealing Truman in his partition with no way to reach the interior of the building to get help and no way to push his way to Ember. As Mason and his men turned and walked casually away, he fell to his knees, pleading with her to get up. She was too far drained to respond, but he was desperate. He could hear her heart’s overly slow beat, but he could also smell the havoc the living blood was causing her body. Her organs and tissues were breaking down as he watched, and as the first visible sign showed itself in the dribble of blood that trickled from her nose, he wailed and pounded against the glass.

It was only moments later that Jonathan reappeared from parking his car, though it felt like an eternity, and when he saw Ember’s limp body and Truman’s trembling hands clawing to get through to her, he tugged the door. Seeing the rebar, he pulled hard to dislodge it from the track, having to try multiple times before it finally came free. Truman pushed to the interior of the building, and exiting, pulled Ember’s section toward him, scooping her up in his arms the moment he could reach her. He rushed to the elevator, entered, and then pounded on the tenth floor button where Ember had spent her first many days.

He sank to the floor of the elevator with Ember in his lap, and he bit harshly into his wrist, holding it up to her mouth. She was alive, but not conscious enough to feed. He parted her lips and clenched and released his fist to empty as much blood from his wrist into her mouth as possible, but without a strong pulse of his own, the blood only trickled out, dripping pathetically into her mouth. When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, he stood swiftly and darted toward Bremmer’s residence. He pounded loudly, yelling the man’s name, and when the doctor opened his door, Truman pushed past him, laying Ember on the nearest sofa.

Bremmer’s shock lasted only a moment as he took in Ember’s state and instantly dropped to his knees beside her.

“What’s happened, and why does she smell like her insides are liquefying?” Bremmer wiped the blood that was trickling from her nose, held it up to his own nose, and as he smelled, his brow flinched and he grimaced. “Jesus. She’s dying. If we don’t get blood into her stomach fast, she won’t survive the hour. Bring her to the clinic. I have to get some blood bags and an N.G. tube.”

Truman lifted her and carried her to the clinic down the hall from Bremmer’s residence, laying her limp body on the examination table the moment they entered. Bremmer left the room, and Truman watched her. Blood was now dripping from both nostrils, and a small amount trickled like a tear from her closed eye. She was dying, and he could do nothing to save her. He pulled a chair up beside her and held her hand, letting his forehead drop to their clasped hands.

When Bremmer returned, he went to work, setting up an I.V. stand with the blood bag and feeding the N.G. tube down her nose to her stomach. He spoke as he worked and adjusted the feed. “Amazing that the very thing we need to survive can kill us so effectively if introduced into our bloodstream rather than our digestive tract. The venom that sustains us sees living blood that hasn’t been processed by our digestion as a foreign agent. Much like an allergic reaction in humans. Of course there’s good reason for that. If you could ever suppress the venom’s reaction to living blood in the bloodstream, you’d be on a good path to curing vampirism—if you could consider our … condition a disease to be cured. But in all the centuries we’ve studied the toxin, we’ve never found a way to suppress it … without killing the host of course.” And then looking to Truman, he offered a small smirk before continuing. “Not many of us truly want to be cured anyway though, do we? Wouldn’t you prefer an eternity with her than just a lifetime?”

Truman said nothing at all and just watched Ember. Of course he wanted an eternity with her, but he wasn’t able to think about it at the moment—not at a moment when he didn’t know if she’d survive to live an eternity with him, and he would choose death over even a short lifetime without her.

He wiped the blood from her nose and from around her eyes with a wet washcloth, but it continued to drip, and he continued to wipe. It felt like an endless routine that would never end as it went on for hours. Bremmer continued to hang one blood bag after another. Her heart was still beating slowly, and Truman was in a constant state of terror and apprehension waiting to hear its last beat. He feared it more than anything else in the world, and it gripped him now in a way very reminiscent of her human death. Every time her heart stalled for a moment longer than it should, his own lurched in his chest, and he gasped in terror.

Angus stopped in to see her shortly after they’d arrived, and he looked concerned. Angus was one of the few councilmen he actually believed was concerned for Ember’s wellbeing and not just on keeping him happy. Angus sat by her side and watched Truman as he washed her face. Her condition wasn’t getting any worse, or so Bremmer had told him. The problem was it wasn’t getting any better yet either. Her body was healing itself as she digested the blood that was being fed to her by the N.G. tube, but the venom was still attacking her tissues in response to the living blood still in her blood system. According to Bremmer, it would until every last ounce of the live blood had died or been cleared from her system, and that would simply take time. He just hoped she would have time.

When he looked at her pale face and saw it was perhaps slightly less pale than it had been before, he relaxed marginally. When he wiped her nose, eyes, and ears clear of blood and realized the trickle had slowed just slightly, he relaxed just a bit more. And when she moaned in her unconsciousness, and Bremmer smiled at him, he allowed himself to think perhaps she might just come through this. Angus had remained with him during Ember’s fight, and it was only when Ember’s eyes fluttered and her body moved that he took his leave to update the council.

It was another two hours before the blood stopped dripping from her eyes, ears, and nose completely, and it was shortly after that when she finally opened her eyes. It was nearly morning, and she’d been fighting for ten hours to survive. Her eyes fluttered at first and sank back closed for another minute or so before opening and remaining open. He had an odd and irrational fear she would once again forget who he was, and as she held his eyes for the first time since the rotating door, he panicked for half a second until she offered him a weak smile.

He smiled, and she squeezed his hand in reassurance. Her lips were parched, her skin even paler than normal, her eyelids heavy and barely held open, but she was alive. Her body smelled itself again and not of liquefying, dead tissues, and though her skin was streaked with blood that he’d tried to wipe clean from her face and ears, there was no new blood. He leaned gently to her lips and kissed the dry skin of her mouth. Her body looked starved considering how much blood she’d consumed.

“I’d like her to stay another day or so.” It was Bremmer of course, and he was watching them both.

“For any particular reason?” He certainly didn’t want to risk her health, but he also wanted her back in their residence.

“She’s weak.”

“I can handle weak.”

“She’ll need to feed regularly.”

“I can handle that as well.”

“I’m serious, Truman. She may have consumed a lot of blood today, but her body has used every last ounce of it fighting to keep her alive. She’s as weak as her body can tolerate, and she’ll need to rebuild her strength over the next twelve to twenty-four hours.”

“I said I can handle it.” He was glaring at Bremmer, doing his best to make sure the man understood he was now responsible for her again, and he could take care of her needs.

“Very well. You will call me if you have any problems or concerns?”

“Of course I will.” And rising from her side, he held his hand out to the man who’d saved her once again. “Thank you, Quentin. I appreciate everything you’ve done for Ember. She’s been lucky twice now to have you around when she needed you most, and I won’t ever forget that.”

Bremmer nodded before instructing Ember on how to expel the N.G. tube as he pulled it from her stomach. It left her gagging and choking, and as her eyes filled with tears, Truman gripped her hand, and she clamped down on his. He lifted her in his arms, still wearing the clothes she’d arrived in that morning and now covered in blood. He carried her to the elevator, and she nuzzled into his neck as the elevator ascended to their higher level. When they entered their home, he laid her on the chaise lounge by the wall of books she was so fond of, and he walked to the thermostat, turning it up high. The weather was cool now that fall had set in, and he wanted her body warm and content while she recovered. He left her for the bathroom as her gaze trailed after him, and he started the bath before returning.

Once he’d carried her to the bathroom, he sat her on the side of the deep bathtub while it continued to fill. He kneeled on the floor in front of her and slowly removed her dirty and bloody clothing. She watched his face while he worked, and she said nothing at all. When he pulled her shirt over her head, her hands covered her breasts, but as he looked to her eyes, she dropped them slowly, showing him her hard and erect nipples. The skin of her chest was tinged in the color of her blood that had soaked through her shirt. He reached to her waist to undo the button and lower the zipper. She lifted her bottom from the side of the bathtub as he slid her jeans and underwear down to her thighs and then pulled them from her legs.

When he stood, he dropped his own clothes to the floor quickly as he left once more, returning with a couple of candles. He lit the candles, turning off the lights and closing the door, and after setting the candles on the platform surrounding the bathtub, he climbed into the warmth and helped her into his lap to straddle his body. Her skin was still cool, but as they settled into the warmth, and he pulled her chest to his, her body warmed and his did too. She snuggled into his chest as his fingers traced the contour of her back.

“If Dr. Bremmer was able to feed me living blood through an N.G. tube to save my life, why don’t vampires just drink blood from blood banks?” She was mumbling as he held her, but he smiled at just how Ember it was to ask a question even in her exhausted state. She was just helpless to stifle asking, and he loved that about her.

“Blood starts to degrade the moment it leaves the body. It requires preservation chemicals to store in blood banks, and that further degrades it, at least in the way we use and digest it. It was enough to save your life, but we would be required to take in far more blood if we limited our consumption to blood banks. And, frankly, that blood is intended to save the lives of humans, for the most part innocent, decent humans. The monsters we kill to survive are the furthest thing from innocent.” And then he leaned to her and brushed a quick kiss on her temple. “I promise we can debate the ethics behind it someday if you’d like, but I’m warning you, I feel passionately about the morality of ending evil instead of dipping into blood banks meant to save lives worth saving.”

“Hmm. I was just curious.” But her voice was slurring in her exhaustion, and she soon fell asleep against his chest with her head nestled into his neck. When she woke a short while later, he pulled her mouth gently to his neck with a hand to the back of her neck, and she bit.

When she was finished, she pulled back from him, and her body began to shake and shudder with quiet sobs. She was more alert and awake now, and she was obviously feeling the enormity of what had nearly happened to her. He was too for that matter. He sat up to close the space between them, embracing her and soothing her as he shushed her and stroked the skin of her back. When her sobs tapered off, he pulled her mouth to his and kissed her. His tongue parted her lips and invaded her, tasting his own blood still in her mouth. He kissed and caressed her body, sinking back into the water with her, and as she dropped her head to his chest again, he finally spoke. “I love you. But I don’t expect you to…”

“I love you too.” Her voice was a whisper that interrupted his words, and he said nothing more to her, and she said nothing more to him either. His heart was thudding in his chest, and there was no hiding that from her, but he didn’t need to or want to. She wasn’t his enemy anymore. Their enemy was singular, and there was no question in Truman’s mind that nothing would stop him until Mason was destroyed.

Chapter 22

When Ember woke, it was still daylight, and she wasn’t nearly ready to rise. Truman was sleeping beside her, and she propped herself up on her elbow to watch him. She had watched him in just such a way weeks ago, fearing him, distrusting him, and hating him in her confusion and anger. But this was so very different from that time. She wasn’t lying when she’d told him she loved him. It happened … or it happened again far quicker than she thought possible, and she suspected part of it was fed by the subconscious of her mind that already knew him so well. But then again, part of it was most definitely the here and now.

During their history tour, she could see just how much he cared for her. The details of their past life made it clear, just like his care to show her their history did. He wanted her even when she pushed him away, and while he’d come close to pushing her away too, he hadn’t, and even through all of it, he still cared for her. He had no reason to after her behavior, but he did. His eyes smoldered in desire she didn’t deserve, but at the heart of it, he loved her. And by the time he’d made love to her, she was ready.

Seeing his pain when she was being held by Mason was as painful as her own fear was, and when she saw it destroying him, it melted her heart, and she felt every last bit of the emotion from her past. Seeing his anguish seemed to bring out her own feelings from so long ago, and though the memories were still hiding, her feelings weren’t. She loved him, and she was desperate for him in a way she didn’t realize possible.

When they’d finished bathing, he dried their bodies, carried her to their bed, and then spent an incredibly long time kissing every inch of her skin. And when he was finished kissing and massaging her body, he kissed her mouth, and she trailed her lips down his neck to the spot she needed. She paused for a brief moment, waiting for his approval, and when he gave it, she bit.

She fed, feeling the strength of his blood wash through her, and comfort returned to her exhausted body. She fell asleep again with her head snuggled up to his chest. She felt safe … but for how long? Mason had nearly killed her, and there was no compassion or reason to the man. He was a monster, just like every other monster in the world, and no better or worse than the monster who tried to rape and kill her as a child. He would plague her like her nightmares of childhood did. The only problem was, he was no nightmare, and unlike the monster of her childhood who Truman had killed, this monster was still very much alive—in their way if nothing more, and he was intent on destroying her … in fact, not her at all but him, the man she loved.

She owed Truman her life; he’d saved hers, after all, when she was nothing more than a child of ten. Could she save him as well? If it came to it, she was more than willing to try. She didn’t know if her strength would permit it, but her will would die trying. She knew that. She knew she loved him. She drifted off to sleep again as he slept quietly beside her.

* * *

When Ember woke again, it was after dark, and she wanted to feed … and make love. Both required Truman, but she was alone and starved in more ways than one. She crawled from bed, dressing in clean jeans and a long, warm sweater. She was still cold to her core as Dr. Bremmer said she’d be for a while, and as she set out to find him, she was shivering. Their residence was one of only three on their floor, and the other two were unoccupied units. When she descended, she chose the tenth floor where Dr. Bremmer resided, hoping perhaps Truman had stopped there. But as Dr. Bremmer answered his door and smiled at her warmly, she could tell by the scent coming from his home that Truman wasn’t there. It was devoid of his very recognizable imprint.

“Have you seen Truman? I can’t find him, and I thought perhaps he might be here.”

“I haven’t, but I’m glad to see you’re up and around. You look much better. Still a bit pale and underfed I’m guessing, but you look well.”

“Thank you.” And just as Dr. Bremmer was closing the door, she stopped him. “What about the council. Where are they? I mean, where do they meet? Maybe he’s with them.”

Dr. Bremmer’s eyes looked warily at her, and he shook his head. “Ember, I wouldn’t recommend looking for him there. The council is a private group, and I assure you they wouldn’t appreciate the interruption.” She watched him patiently, and after shaking his head again, he continued. “Third floor, and yes, Truman is there.”

It didn’t take her long to find them. She lurked quietly outside down the hall, knowing she didn’t need to be any nearer to hear their words.

“I’m sorry, but we’re simply not willing to let you go after him. It isn’t safe.” She didn’t recognize this voice.

“I’m going after him with or without the council’s help. This man is as much your problem as he is mine, but if I have to go it alone, I will.” She knew this voice well, and it was strained in fury that was barely contained.

“We had a deal, Truman. You agreed to take the place at the head of your house in exchange for her life. If you go alone, it will be suicide, and if you die, she dies. Don’t fail to remember that part!” She recognized this man’s voice as Sylvan. His words had always been controlled but his expression restrained and distant, and she could see his mind working. He was the head of the council, and it was likely his only care in the world, and while he may be unlike the monsters she’d met before him, there was a coldness to him that left no doubt in her mind that he could easily be a threat to her.

“He won’t stop trying to destroy me, and he will absolutely use her to do it. You’re insane to think otherwise or that it is safer to sit behind your fortress walls and do nothing!”

It was Sylvan who responded. “She is not our concern, and if she dies, then you will have my sympathies and nothing more. You are the head of your family, and you are the concern of the council, not her! We can protect you here, but until we have a clear and defined means of going after Mason, we will not allow you to go off on some suicide mission!” The normally controlled voice of the council head was as strained and furious as Truman’s.

“What I choose to do is my business alone. You don’t own my life, and I’ll be damned—”

“No, but we do own her life!” Sylvan’s voice was bellowed over Truman’s own furious tirade.

Ember had to strain to hear the quiet fury that was uttered in Truman’s seething response. “Don’t you ever use her to threaten me. If you do anything to harm her, I swear it will be the last thing you ever do.”

Ember crept closer, slowly closing the space between the stairwell doorway that she was lurking in and the door to the council’s room. And when she heard Sylvan’s equally quiet response, she froze midway down the hall to listen. “She’s expendable, always has been, and the council will not take lightly to your insistence on placing her above our needs.”

“And by council, you mean you. Don’t pretend this is about anything but your tyrannical needs.”

“I mean what I say, if you die, she dies. So think very carefully on the intelligence of your next move.”

And Ember crept closer still. “I am. He’s going to kill her eventually, and if you have your way, I’ll not have even a chance to stop it. At this rate, her death is certain. The only real question is will I die with her or suffer without her once she’s been killed. At least if I try, there’s a chance for us both … and quite frankly, I’d rather die before her than live without her.”

She should have sensed, smelled, heard, or known through any one of her heightened senses that Truman was storming out of the room, but she was captured by his words and the very notion of him dying for her—so much so she didn’t realize until the door was thrown open wide and he’d stormed right into her. He grabbed at her body to keep her upright and pulled her to his chest, capturing her body in his arms, but it was no embrace, and his face was seething in anger; at whom, she wasn’t certain—her, Sylvan—his face showed only fury.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Well that answered that question; he was most definitely not happy to see her.

Sylvan emerged at that moment. Truman’s back was to the man, and he didn’t bother turning from Ember to look at him, but Ember was left to stare in his dark and stormy eyes. “You have no business being on this floor. It is reserved for the council members only.” Sylvan’s words were controlled, and he glared at her coldly.

Ember was resentful, of course she would be. “And here I thought perhaps I should be present while you discuss my expendability.”

“Don’t make me regret allowing you to live.” Sylvan continued to regard her as though she were nothing but dog shit on his shoe. Truman’s nostrils were flaring in anger, and his own gaze was warning Ember harshly as he continued to refuse to look at Sylvan.

But Ember’s resentment was beyond control. “I’m quite certain you already do.”

“Ember! Upstairs now.” Truman’s expression was more livid than she’d ever seen. His mouth was pinched and his brow furrowed.

“No. Since she’s here, I have something to say to her.” And then directing his words to Ember, Sylvan continued. “You are expendable. You always have been, and if I could kill you this very moment, I would.” Truman rounded slowly to the man, pulling Ember behind his body so she had to peer out from around his shoulder. “The council is my only concern. It only holds power when all families are represented and respect the rule of our laws. The council does not allow outsiders to influence its decisions, and that is why you are my problem. You are an unwelcome influence and distraction, and since I can’t kill you, I will keep you on one hell of a short leash, pet.” And then he glanced directly to Truman’s eyes. “Quite frankly, I preferred the old Truman who didn’t answer to anyone. At least then you weren’t being led around by your fucking cock!”

And then, simply because Ember couldn’t control her mouth, she lashed out one final time as Truman’s head dropped and he let loose a defeated and agitated sigh. “Ah, I see. Is that why there are no women around here, save for the occasional whore? Wouldn’t want too many cocks being led around by us simple womenfolk, would you?” Ember turned from the men and stalked down the hallway.

She didn’t make it far before Truman caught her and pulled her quite forcefully into the waiting elevator, slamming his hand on the door closed button. She froze in intimidation. Loving and caring as he could be, he was also quite skilled at terrifying her.

She’d heard Truman’s fury at Sylvan inside the council’s room, so it wasn’t like she expected him to be rainbows and sunshine when he stumbled upon her, but he was livid, and in this moment, it was directed squarely at her. He just looked, watched, seared through her eyes as he stood in the elevator while the floors ticked away. After what seemed an eternity of being drilled to the core by his gaze, he slammed his fist on the emergency stop button.

Ember looked at nothing but his chest. She wasn’t frightened he’d hurt her; she knew better than that, but she was intimidated.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed? Huh?” She just watched him. She felt her eyes bulging from their sockets, and she must have looked as shocked as she felt. The moment her wits were about her enough to speak, she opened her mouth. She did not, however, wait until she had actually decided what she was going to say, and while her mouth hung open, waiting for words she couldn’t devise, he continued to glare.

“I just … I just…” She was stuttering like an idiot.

“You just what! Thought that putting your life on the line with a man who, in case you didn’t catch it, wants you dead would be a good idea!” He was yelling and pacing, shaking his head, and damn near growling in his fury.

Ember approached him. She was shaking with nervousness, and as his eyes flashed to hers with all the seriousness of his thoughts striking out at her, he swallowed over a lump in his throat, and his anger faltered for just a moment as he regarded her. His brow furrowed in frustration and helplessness, and she reached for him.

When her hand touched his arm, he looked to her for one brief moment before lunging at her mouth, covering her lips with his own and pushing his tongue roughly past her lips and into her mouth. His tongue touched every last surface of her mouth as it delved and tasted, and when he finally pulled from her mouth, he spun their bodies, pushing her up against the wall.

When he reached for her body, she let him. His movements were quick, rough, and his emotions were still radiating out from him. He was barely contained, and when he yanked the button of her pants undone and forced the zipper down, she froze. She wanted his touch to wipe out their anger and frustration, but his eyes were harsh. When his hand pushed down beneath her underwear and two fingers plunged deep within her tight sex, she gasped and groaned. She was wet, she wanted him, but she was terrified of the emotion roiling under the surface of his demeanor. His fingers pushed and pulled, and he was panting and grunting against the side of her face.

“Please stop, Truman. Please.” He pulled from her body and took a step back from her before she was even done speaking the words. He looked panicked, and as his brow flinched and released over and over and he gasped, his breath lurching and pained, she reached for him again.

“Oh God. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She hushed him as she pulled him back to her body, and he dropped his forehead to her shoulder while she stroked the back of his neck. “You didn’t hurt me.” And he hadn’t. He never would, and she knew that. In all his fury and need to release it and himself, he’d stopped on a dime. She just wanted to soothe him and calm his soul, rather than allowing his fury to continue to build when they were together.

She reached to the waist of his trousers, undid the button, lowered the zipper, and sank to her knees. His forehead found the wall of the elevator as his eyes opened and watched her. When she pulled the waist of his underwear down his groin, he moaned quietly while he watched her, and as his cock thrust up, she captured it in her hand and stroked the length with her fingers. She leaned to the head, licking the precum from the tip, and when she did, his moan got louder. Her lips passed over the engorged tip, and she slid them tightly over his arousal, pulling with all the suction her mouth could muster.

Truman continued to moan as her mouth pulled and released, and she looked up to his eyes, watching his pleasure. She loved seeing his arousal, and she had enough flashes of it to know she’d experienced it a great deal in her past life. The look on his face was mesmerizing, and she focused on it as her mouth continued to suck. When she stopped sucking, his eyes quickly found hers, and as he watched her, she traced her tongue along his length, moving her tongue over every rigid vein. When she reached the head, her tongue traced the shape of the bulbous head all the way up to the peak that ended in his slit and more precum that was escaping in his arousal.

His eyes watching her turned her on, and she wanted him inside her body, but she was intent on changing his mood and his demeanor, and she wanted to taste him. He’d withheld that from her when they were in Portland, and she wanted it. When her lips passed over the head of his cock again, his moans turned to outright groans, and when he came in her mouth, he wound his fingers through the hair at the top of her head, gently forcing her head to tilt back and her eyes to look up to his. He was pulsing his cum into her mouth in powerful spasms, but he held her eyes, and she held his as he gasped and grunted, slack-jawed down to her. His body was shuddering as his cock flexed and emptied itself, and when his movements stopped and her mouth was filled with his cum and his cock, she pulled her mouth slowly from his length, and she swallowed.

He sighed as he watched her throat work, and her body electrified at his taste. He was salty and tasted of iron, very reminiscent of blood. He tasted of his scent, his core scent that no human could smell, but that she experienced anytime he was near her, and that seemed to turn on a warm lamp within her soul. She loved the taste of him, and when the last of his cum was swallowed, she stood.

He watched her, saying nothing, and he reached to the same button he’d stalled the elevator with earlier. This time, his hand touched the button gently, and when the elevator was moving, he stepped back from her body and continued to watch her with an expressionless gaze. Though he was far calmer than before, he was hiding fear. She could smell it in his chemistry; she’d seen him fearful and anxious enough to recognize the scent, and it was there, percolating through the scent of their arousal.

* * *

When they entered the apartment, he walked straight to the balcony, saying nothing. He wanted to pull her into his arms, he wanted to touch her, make love to her, he wanted to throw his damn lousy mood out the fucking window, but he was scared—terrified. Sylvan had all but threatened her life, and she was so damn obstinate that she’d managed to make a bad situation even worse. It was one thing to fear Mason. He was an obvious enemy who needed to be destroyed, but Sylvan? Sylvan’s allegiance would always lie with the council, but he was downright loathsome of the place Ember had in his life.

When Ember’s gaze followed him as he was walking out to the balcony, he didn’t stop, he didn’t soften, he didn’t invite her, he didn’t even look at her. He just stalked away. And when Ember left their residence, wrapped in her robe and no doubt headed toward the pool, he didn’t even consider following. He just stared at the skyline and contemplated every last move he could make, should make, to protect her.

Mason was a no brainer, and if he could get past his few remaining cronies and to him, he was certain he could destroy the man. He’d always been an effective fighter and as strong as any vampire could need to be. If he could get his hands on the man, he could end him. If it had to be under some guise, so be it. If he had to use himself as bait, so be it. But if he managed to succeed, then what? What of Sylvan? Would Sylvan be satisfied with Truman’s commitment being only ever about Ember? Would Sylvan ever stop being a threat to her, or would they be his puppets for the rest of eternity—playing a part in his game? Would Sylvan destroy Ember in some attempt to claim Truman’s sole loyalty? Would her safety always be dangled in front of his nose to ensure his compliance?

The questions were insurmountable, and it left him in a state of near panic as the what-ifs circulated through his mind one after another. His only concern in the world was her, but how could he protect her, and if her life was attached to his, himself as well?

When he returned inside, she was still gone, and he paced. He paced and paced and finally collapsed on the chaise lounge by the bookshelves. Nighttime was ticking away, and he wanted to take her to bed. He wanted to shut out every last worry he had about their future. She had effectively stopped his spiral into rage when they were in the elevator, and he was ready to return the favor. He was sure he’d hurt her feelings when they’d returned to their residence, and though he was trying to keep her at a distance to deal with his thoughts and not to hurt her, he was also certain he’d wounded her.

When she finally walked through the door, his gaze followed her. She didn’t see him right away, and she looked to his desk, biting gently on her lip as her eyes moved. She was nervous to see him, and could he punch himself for being a prick to her, he would. When her gaze caught on his, she stopped midstride, frozen. She forced her feet to move and walked to him slowly, and her figure moved lithely under the thin fabric of the robe. She was wearing another bikini, and as she sat beside his body, already stretched out on the chaise, the robe fell off the side of her thigh, and his groin tightened.

He could think of nothing but the sight of her on her knees in the elevator, and as his mind rewound to that time a few hours before, he reached for the sash tied at her waist, and he pulled the gauzy fabric. The robe slipped completely from her thigh, showing her leg up to the tie at her hip and then farther up her body to her breast.

“I’m sorry.” She was whispering, and his eyes were so glued to her breast that he had to drag them up to her face. She was nervous, and he was aroused. He sat to her body, reaching for her cheek and pulling her mouth to his. It was just one gentle kiss that barely parted their lips, but she sighed in relief as he pulled back to look at her.

“I’m sorry too.” He kissed her again, and it was many long minutes later before he parted from her mouth. He pulled the strings at her hips and then traveled to the back of her neck, pulling that one as well, and when the fabric dropped below her breasts, his mouth kept kissing hers, but his fingers pinched the hardened nipple of her breast as her body twitched in response.

As his mouth left hers, he leaned back and watched as he teased the tight bud of one and then the other nipple. He took in the sight of himself tormenting her body, and he could feel his lips pulling up in a subtle smile, and that said nothing of the reaction his cock was having to her twitching muscles and the soft, shuddering moans emanating from her mouth.

Her every reaction drove his arousal deeper and further, and as he took it in, he decided to let his voice and words torment her further. “Did you like the taste of my cum in the elevator?” And his fingers continued to pluck and tweak the pebble-hard buds. She nodded, and he pushed further. “Tell me how much.”

She looked to his eyes as her lips quivered and her stomach muscles lurched and trembled. “Very much.” Another whisper, and his lips pulled up again, enjoying her aroused nervousness.

“What about it did you find to your taste?” He was torturing her, but it was so fucking much fun after a day of hell.

“You.” Her voice trembled. “It tasted of your entire body.”

“Ah. Well that’s good, because I can’t seem to get enough of your taste. Now to bed … our bed.” And as she rose, he pulled her back down. She looked to him in curiosity, and he took a deep breath. “I love you, Ember. I want you to hear it now, and you deserve to hear now. There’s no reason to wait and say it once I’ve spent myself in your body. I love you as much when you’re driving me mad as I do when we make love.” And after one more gentle kiss, he continued. “Though making love is far more fun than fighting.”

She smiled her gentle one that always calmed his soul. “I love you too—whoever the hell you are.” He chuckled and pulled her off to bed—their bed.

Chapter 23

Endless reserves of inhuman energy, not to mention an insatiable desire to fuck, kept them up the better part of the day. The curtains were drawn, and the rest of the building was retired to their residences until the sun went down again. But they had far better things to do than sleep.

His lips moved over her skin, and as they did, he listened to her heart race every time he touched in just the right way. He spent over an hour simply kissing and licking every last inch of skin on her body. He saved her sex for last, and by the time he narrowed in on her groin, she was panting, the muscles in her entire body were dancing, and she looked like she might explode with the next touch.

“Spread your legs out wide.” He wasn’t touching her with his hands, and after kissing and licking his way to her groin without so much as breathing a wisp of air on her sex, he could see the shimmering wetness pooling between the lips of her vagina as she moved into position. He lay between her legs, watching her face but not touching her body. “Wider.” He wanted to see every last inch of her, and as she opened her legs wider and her lips parted farther, he watched as a bead of her cum trickled down the inside fold of pink glistening skin.

It took every ounce of willpower to keep his hands and fingers and mouth off her and out of her, but he managed it and kept looking. When he blew on the wet skin, she shuddered and cried out. Her body was begging for more, and he was forcing her to be patient. When he leaned to her parted lips with his mouth, he paused before making contact and looked to her eyes. Her lips were parted, her eyes were wide, and she was desperate. He moved his nose over her wetness, only barely touching the tip of his nose to her sensitized skin, and she cried out again. When he brushed his lips in an equally soft trail over her exposed sex, she whimpered, and he pulled back to watch her some more.

Instead of diving into her most sacred and amazing attribute, he leaned his mouth to her thigh and kissed the inside of her leg. He kissed sucking wet kisses all over the inside of one and then the other, always stopping before he passed the junction of thigh and sex. He wanted her begging, and until she did, he had no intention of stopping his torture. It didn’t take long though. As he pulled his mouth from her leg and leaned up farther on her abdomen to plant another wet kiss on her lower stomach, she gave over to her willingness to plead. “Oh, God, no. Please. Please.”

He pulled his mouth from her stomach, and regarded her with a glint of challenge in his eye. “What is it that you want, dear?”

“Please.” Her lips were trembling.

“Let me rephrase then. Would you like my lips, tongue, or finger first? Only one at a time, and I don’t want you to come until I tell you to.” She whimpered at nothing more than his words, but nodded. “So what will it be first?”

Biting her lip, she chose. “Finger.” He smirked.

When his middle finger made first contact with her exposed entry, she nearly screamed, and as he pushed slowly into her wetness, he purred to her in the voice he knew she loved. “You are so fucking wet, baby. You can’t believe how much I love this.” And when he’d pushed as far as he could without pushing his hand in too, he pulled back out. Her body gripped at his finger, and the wetness coated him. When he’d pulled completely from her body, he licked the glistening cum from his finger as she watched and whimpered for more. When he entered her again, it was with two fingers that filled her channel, and as he pushed, she groaned and pushed down to him. She was struggling already to keep from orgasming, but as his eyes found hers, he shook his head slowly, and she sighed.

“What’s next? Tongue or lips?”

“Lips.” He was hoping that’d be her response.

He pulled one lip of her sex between the lips of his mouth, sucking and then releasing as she moaned. He moved to the other side and did the same, and again, she couldn’t stifle the sound of her pleasure. He was careful not to touch her with his tongue—a struggle to be sure given his own desperate need to taste her and release her body from her want so he could take his own. When he pulled her swollen clit between his lips, trying not to suck so hard she wouldn’t be able to stop her release, he again held his tongue away from her skin. Her moans became louder and more intense as he held the bud in his mouth, sucking and pulling gently. When he released his mouth from her, she cried out again.

“Tongue?” Of course he didn’t need her answer, but he waited for her to nod her approval. And leaning to her sex one more time, he reached his tongue out to trail up the inside of one lip, skipping over her clit and running back down the other side. Her breath was coming in shuddering gasps and lurching groans. Next, his tongue met her entry and pushed into her wetness, dipping, licking, and pulling her taste from her body. Her need was nearly uncontrolled, and when he finally pulled his tongue from her, there was only one more destination in mind.

“Come for me, baby, and I want to hear it loud.” His tongue met her clit. He flicked the tip of it over the bundle of nerves, lashing his tongue swiftly and precisely against the tight, swollen nub. It was only a fraction of a second before she was screaming out her release and pounding her fists into the mattress at her hips. He looked up as he kept stroking and flicking the flesh, and her stomach muscles were clenched, and she was watching him as he pushed her body through her orgasm. It was likely the longest orgasm in the history of orgasms as he continued to lave and lick, reinvigorating her release over and over with no rest, and when he finally gave her clitoris a break, her body slowly relaxed and her moans and whimpers faded and tapered off.

What could he say? He was a one-upper. She’d given him incredible head in the elevator, and he had every intention of returning the favor.

When he crawled up along her body, hovering over her, she reached for his hips. He had hastily undressed upon first entering the room, knowing full well he would want nothing separating them when he’d finally finished with her body, and in this moment, he was relieved he had such forethought. Her hands on his hips pulled his groin between her parted legs, and when she felt the engorged cockhead, she hissed. Her wetness was coating the underneath side of his length as his cock glided between the slick lips of her sex, and as he glided down, lining up to her entry, he nudged and then thrust to his hilt hard and deep within her body.

She cried out as he sank to her depth, and when he pulled back, it was only to drive in again. He fucked her hard and deep, watching her face for any sign he was pushing too far, but she was moaning, whimpering, and she was building toward another release. She clutched at his shoulders with her hands under his arms, and she held on tight to him as he pounded one invasive thrust after another into her body. With every push, he could feel her tightness closing and clenching around his shaft, pulling, squeezing, and gripping him. The second she came again, he let loose his own floodgates and shot his cum deep into her body. He kept thrusting, letting her body grip and pull every last ounce of his cum from his spasming cock. And when he was done marking her body with his liquid, he pulled his spent cock from her body slowly and collapsed beside her.

And that was only the first time he made love to her that day.

* * *

When he’d finally let her sleep, not that she wouldn’t rather be making love to him, she drifted off slowly. His body, his movements, his taste, his scent all flitted through her mind as she relaxed into very comfortable stillness.

When she woke next, he was sitting on the side of the bed naked. His hair was wet, and she could smell he was fresh from the shower. The drapes had been pulled back, and the night sky was bright with a nearly full moon. He didn’t know she was awake, and she watched him. His back was strong, and his shoulders were broad and well defined. His hair was his beautiful shade of brown and neatly trimmed. Every last piece of this man’s body was in perfect working order, nothing out of place or lacking in any way, and as he stood, her lips parted slightly at the sight of his naked bottom. The cheeks were firm and round, and she remembered gripping them and kneading them with her fingers when they were in her apartment. His legs were long and graceful but defined with well-sculpted muscles that ended perfectly at his buttocks. He walked to his dresser, grabbing his watch and returning to the bed. His face was serious, and though their lovemaking had been intense, it had been uninhibited and carefree, but he was neither of those things now.

Stress and worry were etched on his face, and as he sank to the side of the bed once more, it was with a deep and troubled sigh. When his head sank to his hands propped up on his knees, she moved to him. As he heard her, he sat up straight and turned to her, trying at a convincing smile.

“What’s wrong?” She wasn’t surprised when he shook his head and blew off her question, so she tried again. “Where are you going?”

Apparently, that was an acceptable question. “Angus and I are going hunting.”

“I thought you usually went alone.”

He eyed her for a moment before answering. “It’s just a precaution.” His words chilled her. She hadn’t forgotten about Mason, but the reminder of just what a threat he posed to the man she loved had her body pulsing with worry and dread. He saw it on her face and pulled her onto his lap, nuzzling her neck with his lips. “It’s fine. Please don’t worry.” Fat chance. “You look hungry.”

“It can wait until you get back.” He smiled and pulled her mouth to his. When she pulled from his lips, it was with one last quick kiss to his cheek. “I love you. Be careful.”

“I love you too, and I will.” He gave her a small smile before hastily dressing as she continued to watch, and after one more quick kiss, he was gone.

* * *

When Sylvan approached the side of the pool no more than an hour later, her heart raced. She was floating on her back, and at seeing him, she righted herself and looked to him suspiciously. “Is Truman okay?” She had no idea why he would approach her, and given the fact he hated her, or if nothing else, found her expendable, she couldn’t fathom what his reason for being there could possibly be aside from Truman. Ember’s heart was thudding loudly in her chest as she waited for him to respond.

“Truman’s fine. Get out of the pool. We need to talk.” His words were curt, and his voice chilled her. She swam to the nearest ladder and ascended the side of the pool, keeping him in her line of sight as she moved. He watched her too, and as she approached, a look of disgust or perhaps just hatred flashed across his expression before he reached for her elbow. She recoiled, but he was quick, and as he marched her to the door, she panicked.

His hand on her elbow was insistent—more than insistent, and she wasn’t at all certain he’d allow her to pull away if she tried. When they approached the elevator, his hand remained. “Where are we going?” He ignored her question, and with every passing moment, her panic raised a hair further. Being frightened of a man was nothing new for Ember, and this man was inciting as much fear as any in her life had.

When they stepped into the elevator, he didn’t let go of her elbow until the doors had closed, and once they were closed and she was effectively trapped inside with him, he finally spoke. “You know the problem with you, Ember?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “You never should have been allowed to survive. I should have known you’d become a problem for Truman. His attachment to you has never been normal, and now you’re risking his place at the council. You know, had he never saved you, or killed Thomas, none of this would be happening. We could have taken Mason out of power without the fuel of his brother’s death feeding some vendetta toward Truman.” His eyes were on her, and his hatred was clear. Ember could only look at him in horror. She couldn’t guess his game, but it wasn’t good. “But, dear Ember, we’re going to fix all that.” Ember was confused, standing in the corner, trying to be small—trying in fact to be as small as she was in the basement at ten years old. This man was threatening her, and Ember’s heart was pounding, her fear was compounding by the second, and she was well aware it would be hours yet before Truman would return.

The elevator stopped in the basement, a level she’d never been, and as the doors opened, she looked out upon the expansive underground parking level. A man who Ember had seen a few times in the building was standing by waiting. He was a personal assistant of sorts to Sylvan, and the moment she stepped beyond the threshold of the elevator, he moved to her side, clutching her elbow in his broad paw of a hand. He was large; more than large. He looked as much a bouncer as an assistant, and she could only fathom this man was used as much for his muscle as his wit or charm. Ember tried to pull from him, but his fingers clamped hard on her arm.

When he pulled her to a nearby black sedan, she put up little struggle. It would do no good, and she didn’t trust Sylvan not to kill her at any chance he got. The muscle man pushed her into the back seat, never releasing her arm, and the moment Sylvan climbed behind the wheel, they pulled away, passing row after row of cars before finally ascending the ramp to the exterior. As they passed from the basement to the city beyond, Ember looked to see the valet Jonathan. He nodded to Sylvan, and knowing she was truly screwed, her gaze followed him as they pulled onto the city street. He watched her too with not so much as a hint of surprise. He was expressionless as she was led away to slaughter.

* * *

The moment he and Angus returned to the building, Truman relaxed. Nothing of interest had happened, and he was relieved to be back within the safety of their building. He and Angus had talked of Mason, and while he knew the council at large wouldn’t necessarily go along with his idea to take Mason down sooner rather than later, he knew he would have Angus by his side. Angus had little respect for Sylvan and disagreed as much with his refusal to go after Mason as Truman did. They parted ways in the deserted lobby, and he made his way up to the residence, imagining Ember and what she might be doing.

He thought nothing of it when he found their residence empty, and it wasn’t until he’d reached the pool and found it empty as well that he worried. When he saw her robe tossed over a nearby chair, his heart lurched. He stopped at Bremmer’s residence on his way downstairs and found him alone. When he mentioned he couldn’t find Ember, Bremmer’s brow furrowed with concern. He’d become fond of Ember over the past many weeks she’d been there, and Truman’s own anxiety compounded just seeing Bremmer’s. Ember wouldn’t leave on her own. In fact, the valets had explicit instructions to not allow her to leave, so it was nearly impossible to imagine she could be somewhere other than the building.

When he made his way back down to the lobby to speak with the valet, he ran into Sylvan and his assistant, Krill, as they entered the building. Sylvan’s nostrils flared for half a second at seeing Truman. “Have you seen Ember?”

Sylvan regarded him coolly, barely hiding his distaste for her. “I can’t say that I have.” His words gave nothing away, but the look that flashed across the valet’s face as his gaze snapped to Sylvan spoke volumes. Sylvan walked past Truman to the elevator with Krill in tow, and as the elevator doors closed and it ascended, Truman spun to the valet. He didn’t wish the valet any harm, and he’d always found the man to be decent and honest, but he was ready to kill the man if he didn’t get the answers he needed. Truman was in all out panic mode at this point, and there was no remaining question in his mind that something bad had happened.

But Truman didn’t have to say a word or threaten the man in any way. He spoke the moment the elevator doors were closed. “He left with her about two hours ago. He and Krill from the parking garage. I don’t think they expected me to see them. And…” His pause was overlong as he considered his next words. “She looked scared, Mr. Solomon.” His gaze fell to his hands as he waited for Truman’s rage. But Truman wasn’t upset with him, and as he looked at the man, Jonathan shook his head. Jonathan was concerned for her. Truman was more than concerned; he was ready to break into a million pieces and fall apart. His heart was thudding loudly, not that the human in front of him could hear it, and his mind was racing.

What if she was dead? What if he’d killed her? Truman couldn’t survive that, and there was nothing in this world that would keep him from killing Sylvan if anything had happened to her. Truman was standing in front of the elevator watching the floors tick off. He saw the elevator stop at the council’s floor, and as it returned to the lobby, his teeth were gritted, his heart continued to thud, and he felt as though he were losing his mind. He had to get to Sylvan, and he was prepared to do whatever was in his power to get the information out of him.

When the elevator returned, he slammed his hand on the floor button, and he called Angus, hastily explaining the situation. He asked that Angus meet him in the lobby, and the moment Angus said he’d be there, he disconnected the phone and paced. When the elevator stopped, he found Krill waiting for him, and the moment he stepped into the corridor, Krill’s fist met Truman’s chest, throwing his body back and down to the floor. But Truman was fast, and as quick as Krill’s arm had knocked him back, his own foot swept Krill’s stocky legs out from under him, and the moment the man was on his level, Truman lunged for his neck. His teeth sunk in as Krill still struggled to sit up, and as he closed his teeth around the man’s carotid, he ripped, severing the artery completely. Blood was gushing from the gaping wound, and as Krill grasped at his neck to stop the bleeding, Truman took the opportunity to twist the man’s head like a pop bottle, severing the spinal column as the vertebrae crunched and broke at the yaw. The man’s eyes went suddenly dead, and his body slumped to the floor of the corridor, continuing to spill blood on the dark marble floor.

Truman wasted little time getting to the council door and bursting through to the interior. Sylvan was alone, standing by the lit fire in the fireplace. He didn’t look at all surprised to see Truman, and the sound of Krill’s death couldn’t have gone unnoticed. He looked pale, more so than even a vampire should look. He regarded Truman before looking to the fire. “It was the valet, wasn’t it? I wasn’t expecting that one.”

“Where the fuck is she? Tell me now or I swear I will kill you.”

“Oh, I fully expect you’ll kill me. That fucking valet.” His words were spit in fury, but he was giving up no information.

When Truman grabbed the poker and thrust it through the man’s gut, he staggered back and sank to his knees. He was panting, gasping, and blood was dribbling from the man’s mouth. It wouldn’t kill him, little could kill a vampire, but he was hoping it would make the man talk. “Couldn’t very well be the one responsible for her death now, could I? It was supposed to look as though she’d left on her own. Fucking valet.” When Truman’s foot connected with the man’s face, sending him to the floor, he chuckled. It was a defeated laugh that held no humor.

“Tell me where she is.” And collapsing to his knees in front of the man. “Please. I’m begging you. She doesn’t deserve this.” He was begging, pleading the man he wanted to kill for answers.

“The fuck she doesn’t. She’s destroyed everything … and you’ve let her!”

“Where is she?” Truman’s voice was bellowing, and he was practically shrieking in fury and fear.

“Where do you think? Your old family home. I gave her to him! Doing you a damn fucking favor!” And with hatred showing clearly through his gritted bloody teeth, he continued. “My only request was he kill her like she deserve. You’re too late, Truman.” Sylvan’s face was an evil mock as he spoke. Truman’s fury reached its threshold, and still kneeling on the floor in front of the incapacitated Sylvan, he reached for the poker sticking out of the man’s gut. He yanked it out, thrust it through the man’s skull, and twisted hard to sever his neck, and when he heard the crunch he was waiting for, he collapsed.

His body was vibrating in fury and fear. She had to be okay. There was nothing more to it than that. She absolutely could not be dead. And as he shakily made his way up to stand, he pulled his phone from his pants, calling the front desk.

“Bring my car around now.” He was going to get her back.

Chapter 24

When Krill had drug her from the car, it was to hand her over to a man she’d never seen before. But she didn’t need an introduction to know she was staring at Mason. His eyes were cold and harsh. His face showed his cruelty, and as he eyed her, his brow shot up. Sylvan regarded the man with disgust. “I want her dead. That’s my only condition. Torture her if you choose, but see to it that she is dead within the next few hours.”

“Oh, I intend to make her death fun. If I have to let Truman live, the very least I can do is return her body with all the signs of the pleasure I took from her. It’s a far cry shorter than Truman’s own life, but knowing he’ll suffer for the rest of eternity with the knowledge of what I did to her sweet little body before I took her life will be vindication enough.” Ember’s blood turned cold at his words, and she was taken back to the cold basement of so many years past. She could see flashes of Truman’s face in her mind, and it wasn’t for the simple want to be with him. They were memories. She could see him in the basement with her, and while she couldn’t remember the whole of it, her memories, so near the surface now thanks to the monster in front of her, were as close to complete as they’d ever been.

“You’ll disappear after that.” Sylvan’s words weren’t a question

“Yes.” Mason’s words showed his resentment. “That is the deal, is it not? Her torture and death and my disappearance from the council’s world for Truman’s life. Won’t be much of a life once I’ve had my fun with her. I’m not sure how much good he’s going to be to you once he sees the liberties I’ve taken with his pet.”

“That will be my problem, not yours.” As Sylvan turned from her and one of Mason’s men led her away to the building, he called back over his shoulder. “Have fun in hell, dearest Ember. Don’t worry; I’m sure we can find some other whore to satisfy Truman’s needs.” She was crying, sobbing in fear as she was pulled into the building, and as her mind spun with the possibilities of what torture might lay ahead, her brain hammered one image after another into her recollection. Her fear, her terror of losing him was all it really took to unleash the images, and one memory after another came tumbling into her mind. She couldn’t piece it all together yet, but it made her desperation all the more real. She couldn’t lose him. This would destroy him.

When she was dragged into the room and saw the railroad spikes laid out on the table, her panic set in full force, and she fought, clawed, kicked, and screamed as they dragged her. Two men held her down as Mason lifted the first spike. He was smiling at her sadistically, playing with the spike in his hand. When he lifted the heavy mallet, she watched as if in slow motion as he dropped the weight onto the head of the spike, driving it down through the flesh and bones of her hand and into the wood of the chair she was sitting in. As it reverberated up through the hole in her hand, it sent another wave of agony. It was more pain than she’d ever endured, and she was gagging, trying to throw up what wasn’t there in her pain.

He was far more cruel with her second hand, trailing the wedged tip of the spike up her already incapacitated arm, and as he trailed it along her shoulder, the men held her in place, pinning her other wrist to the chair. When the spike pierced through her hand, she thrashed. Both hands were immobile, and even the slightest movement of her body sent stabs of pain pulsing through her, but holding still with two spikes impaling her hands was no easy feat.

Mason stood back admiring his torture, and as her tears fell and her sobs continued to be choked out, he backhanded her hard across the face. As her face soared right, her left hand pulled against the spike, and she screamed. When his opposite hand hit her other cheek, her right hand did the same, and she groaned and gasped at the torment.

Mason stood to tower over her and glare down at her, and she wanted to cower, she wanted to hide, but she was trapped. She was a leashed dog being tortured for the amusement of his owner, and she just wanted it to be over. There was a tingling mixed with the pain in her palms, and she knew it was her body’s attempt to reconstruct and heal itself, but it was hopeless. Nothing could be done for it with the spikes in place, and as he smiled, she sobbed in hopelessness and sadness.

“I have to say, this wasn’t the retribution I’d imagined for my brother’s death. I had intended to kill Truman of course. But when Sylvan offered you up, the very reason Truman killed my brother, it just seemed … fitting, sentimental even.” He was grinning at her, and her heart was racing. “Can you imagine the torture he’ll feel when he realizes what I did to you before I killed you?” Bending low to look her squarely in the eye, he continued. “The spikes alone will leave him wanting to die, but knowing I fucked you too, now that will be the icing on the cake.” And as he stood, walking from the room, he tossed out one last comment. “Soon.”

When she was alone, she had a meltdown. She sobbed, she pleaded to no one at all, and she begged the empty room to release her. If only she’d known it would be her last morning with him. Didn’t everyone say those things? Hadn’t she thought it herself when her mother had passed? The monitor had buzzed the flatline of her mother’s finally still heart, and yet she had still expected her mom’s life to resume. She expected to hear the blip. She waited for her mother to return like a child crying as her parent walks away, but she didn’t. And now this. She would be the person not returning. She would die, and he would be devastated. She would leave this world wishing she’d known it was her last time with him, last touch, last kiss, last everything. She would die never remembering all of him and wishing for that as much as everything else.

Her death would be painful, torturous even. Perhaps her mother would be waiting for her when it was all said and done. Maybe she would dry her tears and tell her it would be okay in the same soothing voice she’d heard as she’d awoken from her countless nightmares growing up, but Truman would never forget this, and there would be no one to soothe his pain. That was the most devastating fact of all. She wasn’t ready to be done with life, and as her brain shut down, saving itself from more torture, she imagined him. He swam through her murky mind; some were memories she knew, others were memories from a different time, but memories all the same. She was so close to connecting the dots, but she would never make it in time to complete the picture. She would die too soon.

When she awoke next, she was cold. She was dressed in only the bikini she’d been wearing in the pool, and the room was freezing. There were pools of blood on the floor under her hands, and as she looked down, she struggled to focus in her dizzying weakness. When the door was pushed open a moment later, Mason sauntered in. He was wearing only pants, and he carried a large knife that glinted in the light of the room. As he approached her, he chuckled and kneeled at her feet. When he trailed the tip of the knife up the inside of her thigh, she sobbed before she could bite back the reaction.

“Don’t worry. Stabbing you won’t kill you, but it will make you pretty fucking miserable until I pull it out.” And as he pulled his hand back, aiming squarely at her stomach, her eyes bulged, every muscle in her body tensed, and she screeched. All she could hear were the sounds of her screams as she watched his hand, and then it was pain; searing, superheated pain that radiated and pierced through her abdomen. She looked down to see the handle sticking out of her stomach, but as she looked to his face, his smile was deranged, and he had blood dripping from his mouth. Every muscle in her body was clenched tight as the pain coursed through her, leaving her insane with it. But she was confused. She couldn’t understand why there was blood dripping from his mouth and why his face looked sluggish and disoriented. But as he turned from her to the door behind, her eyes saw the gaping hole in the back of his head. And following his line of sight, her eyes lit on Truman standing with the gun still pointed in their direction.

She hadn’t even heard the gunshot over her screams, and Truman moved swiftly toward them. She grunted in pain and anguish as she watched him. Mason toppled over to the side, lurching as he went, and blood spilled around his head as he hit the ground. When Truman kneeled in front of her, he looked at the knife in her stomach and then quickly up to her eyes. She could feel blood rising up in her throat, and it spilled out of her mouth. Truman reached for the handle but pulled back as he grimaced, and a look of fear washed over his face. When his hand moved back to the handle, it was nothing but a flurry of movement from her periphery that she caught before Truman was thrown to the ground as Mason tackled him.

They fought in a flurry of blood, and she struggled to keep up with it. Blood was still dripping from her mouth, and the knife was still fully embedded in her gut. She was gasping and grunting, and as Mason landed a punch that sent Truman’s body skidding away from her, Ember panicked and yanked hard on her right hand. She hit the blunted end of the spike and pulled, forced, groaned as her skin tore and bones broke to free her palm from the widened end of the stake. It was agony, but she didn’t let up until her hand was freed from the stake.

Truman pounced back toward Mason, and Mason landed another blow to his chest. As Truman threw a swift elbow into the monster’s jaw, Mason stumbled back. With Ember’s free right hand, she reached for the knife handle, and when she wrenched it from her body, it was with a choking grunt that stilled Truman as he met her eyes, and she vomited blood. He lunged toward her with his panic showing in his eyes, and as he did, Mason landed a blow to Truman’s back, sending him to his knees right in front of her. Mason closed in behind him before he could react, and as Ember tried to shriek as she gurgled and choked on the blood in her mouth, Truman’s face fell, and his eyes held hers. When Mason bit in hard to the side of his neck, he gasped, and his eyes bulged in surprise.

Ember fell quiet, and she watched. Her body was in more pain than she ever imagined possible, and Truman’s face was defeated as he held her eyes. Mason was grinning even as his teeth remained deep in Truman’s neck on either side of his carotid. Truman’s eyes fluttered as he watched her, and a tear fell to his cheek. And as she watched, the monster tore … and Ember finally saw him.

The scene was backward. It was the basement, and Truman was behind the monster with his teeth buried in his neck. She watched as he tore the artery from the man’s neck and spat it across the room. That and every last moment of their life together came flooding back to her as she watched this monster tear the life from Truman’s neck.

His hand went instantly to the gaping wound as the shock of what had just happened sank in. Ember was pulling on her last remaining speared hand, ignoring the pain that was shooting through her entire body. She was screaming through it. She lifted, hitting the blunted end of the stake and going no further. And as she sobbed in desperation, she looked to Truman’s eyes once more.

Mason stood to his feet with a look of absolute vengeance on his face and began to move to Ember. He grabbed the knife on the ground nearby, and Ember screamed. When Truman exploded toward Mason and tackled him, she just watched, stunned. And when Truman tore the man’s head clean from his shoulders before he could even react, she sobbed. Truman was gushing blood, and as he looked to her eyes as Mason’s body collapsed between them, he fell to his knees clutching the side of his throat. But the blood was running down his neck, and his skin was paling by the second.

He smiled at her as his eyes fluttered and his body collapsed to the ground. His eyes bulged and then narrowed and fluttered again as they struggled to stay alert, and she sobbed, screamed, and stomped her feet in furious desperation. He was trying to pull himself up to his knees, and she could only watch in horror as he died in front of her.

“Are you going to kill me?” The words were old, from a cold, dark basement, and all she could do was watch their first meeting play out in her mind while the Truman of this time and place struggled to live in front of her.

“Not even I could do such a thing. Tell me your name.”

“Ember Greeley. What’s your name?”

“I’m Truman Solomon. It’s good to meet you, Ember. You’re safe now.”

And as the sweetest memory she owned ended, she pulled her hand up as hard as she could as the pain hit her hand. The blunted end of the spike was wide and stopped her hand the moment she hit it, but she forced harder, grunting past the pain and tearing her flesh as she forced the hole to open up even wider to free her remaining hand. When it finally sprang free from the stake, she fell from the chair and crawled over Mason’s lifeless body to Truman.

Her hands were dripping with blood, and she clamped down hard on the side of Truman’s neck. He was only barely conscious, and when he felt her hand, his eyes fluttered open, and his lips pulled up in a weak smile. She held her wrist up to his mouth, and he bit. She was already weak, but she wasn’t going to lose him now that she’d finally found him, and as he pulled her blood from her, she spoke. “I asked you if you were going to kill me. ‘Not even I could do such a thing.’ It’s what you said to me. The very first words you ever spoke to me. I remember you. I remember all of you.” Her voice wavered through her tears, and a tear ran down his cheek.

Angus and Dr. Bremmer arrived moments later, stumbling into the room in shock, and as Dr. Bremmer saw her looking helplessly to him, he started toward her. They were both covered in blood as well, and Angus had a gaping wound in his side. He collapsed by the door and watched as Dr. Bremmer kneeled beside Truman. He pulled her hand away from his neck, surveying the damage, and replacing her hand with his, he spoke. “Truman sent us to make sure the building was clear while he searched for you. It wasn’t. Angus lost a lot of blood, but he’ll be okay. Jesus, Ember.”

“Is Truman going to be okay?”

Ember could already feel her stomach tingling as her body healed, and though weak, she knew she was going to be okay, but Truman… Dr. Bremmer looked to her eyes but didn’t answer the question. “We have to get him back to my clinic. I don’t think he’s going to make it if we don’t move him. He’s trying to heal, but he doesn’t have enough blood, and there’s only so much you can give him. You’ve already lost too much blood yourself, and you’re pale as a ghost.

“Please tell me he’s going to be okay?”

He didn’t respond.

Chapter 25

He watched her in the car. His head was resting on her lap, and she was clamping down tight on his neck. Her wrist was still in front of his mouth, but he was refusing it. Her eyes were pleading with him, but she looked close to death herself. Truman was struggling to keep his eyes open, but he didn’t want to miss a moment of her. She remembered him. Finally.

But try as he might, his mind was groggy and his vision was blurry and his body was shutting down, and with a final look to her beautiful pale face, he drifted away to the sound of her voice. “Truman. Truman! No please. You have to stay awake. Please, please, please.” But he couldn’t. Not even for her.

* * *

The first time he woke, he was in the clinic, and he could feel a tube down his throat. His neck hurt, but when he tried to move his hand, it fell limply back to the bed. He looked to see her in the clinic bed next to him, and as he panicked, he fell off the cliff to unconsciousness again.

* * *

When he woke next, the tube was still in his throat, and his neck still hurt, but when he moved his hand, he actually made it to his neck. There was a bandage, but he could tell by the feel of his skin that he was healing. He was weak, but he was alive. As he remembered the sight of Ember in her bed, his gaze shot to the bed next to him only to see it empty. He was not, however, alone. She was curled up in a chair by the wall, sleeping. She was no longer pale, and though there were bandages on her hands, they weren’t large, and he could smell none of her blood. He was content, and in his contentment, he drifted off again.

* * *

He woke in their room next, and as he rolled to her side of the bed, she was there, already watching him. She smiled, and he smiled in return. When her lips met his, he shuddered, and the part of his body that had no business waking up yet tightened and demanded to be paid attention to.

“You remember, huh? All of it?” His voice was hoarse in his weakened state.

“Well, I couldn’t possibly know if I remember all of it, could I?” She was being sarcastic. “But it sure feels like all of it.” She watched his eyes for a moment before continuing. “I remember the basement, I remember Todd, I remember the funeral, I remember making love to you for the first time.” Naturally, her eyes flitted from his in her shyness with this admission. “I remember the morning after, and then … well, then you showed up on my first night of class, and I now have an entire summer of absolutely amazing memories. So, unless I’m missing something, yeah, I remember.” She smiled, and he pulsed with need and undying love for his partner. Her gaze drifted away from his, and her face grew serious. “I loved you so much. Even the first time we were together. And then I fell in love with you all over again last summer, and … now. It’s hard to imagine being able to love someone so much.” She shook her head as tears touched her eyes and pooled on her lower lids.

He pulled her to his side, and then leaning to her ear, he spoke. “I always said we were good at falling in love.”

“Yes we are.”

Epilogue

Two weeks later

“For what it’s worth, we were always in support of going after Mason.” Langford’s words sounded pathetic, but Truman didn’t question the council was happy to see Sylvan gone. Sylvan had held a power over them he never should have had.

“The fact of the matter is Sylvan dictated this council with little regard to what was actually best for our race. His intentions may have been noble at one time, but his mode became corrupt. If we’re going to continue the council, it needs to be with true representation from all families, and our goals need to be righteous and pure—trust me, my better half will give me no rest if we fail in this mission.

“So, now that she’s freed from you, she’s decided to stick around? I mean, she can hunt now, her life is no longer attached to your own.”

He smiled in response to this question from Blakely. “I’m thrilled that my own life no longer jeopardizes hers, but she’s chosen not to hunt, and she’s very content taking that need from me.” And under his breath, he continued. “And so am I, quite frankly.”

It had been two weeks since they were both nearly annihilated, and this was the first time the council had convened. With Angus and Dr. Bremmer by his side, there was little convincing needed to understand what Sylvan had done. And when questioned about the events of two weeks before, Angus and Bremmer were more than happy to vouch for him. Ember had touched a number of souls during her time in this building, and Angus and Bremmer aside, she had plenty of support of her own.

He’d asked her to join him at the meeting, but she’d declined, choosing instead to swim. She didn’t want to be pulled into the council affairs any more than their personal pillow talk usually permitted. She wanted him to remain on the council, but she didn’t want their relationship pulled into the mix. She was content to let him lead, knowing full well she held great sway over him. There were nine remaining vampires in his bloodline, and he intended to represent them and give them their home back. On the other hand, he wanted privacy for he and Ember, and he intended to give it to her … today.

She was already interviewing for positions in social work and child psychology, hoping to land a crisis intervention position working second or third shift. Truman’s own antiques business had taken something of a nosedive with his recent inactivity in anything not revolving around the council or Ember’s life, and with both back on track, he intended to devote himself to his own pursuits. He’d withdrawn from teaching when Ember had been turned, but he’d be returning to that as well with the next semester. And with their lives once again on a discernible path, he could finally breathe easy and enjoy her—not that he ever didn’t enjoy her.

Every last memory of their lives together had been recovered, and he spent part of damn near every day quizzing her on their past. Her memories were as sharp as his own, and it was as much an ego stroke as anything else to listen to her talk about their long history together.

Making love to her had taken on a life of its own as well. He couldn’t get enough of her, and she finally didn’t feel as though their long relationship was hiding in her mind. She knew every last touch, kiss, taste they’d ever taken of one another, and she used those memories to cut herself free from her inhibitions—not that he hadn’t been able to push her past most of them already. He made love to her multiple times on most days, and he wondered if their desire would ever slow down; they had an eternity with one another after all, but when he saw her stretched out reading on the chaise or floating in the pool or simply lounging on their bed watching some random sitcom, laughing an incredible verbose laugh for one so small, he thought, Nah, not in a million years will I tire of her.

“So, what are we going to do about electing a new leader? We really should have someone to manage the council. All other regional councils have a head, and we … are … well, currently without one.” It was Bremmer who had spoken. He’d stepped up to take Sylvan’s place as the next in command of their bloodline. It would be a new role for a man who’d devoted his life to research and medicine, but he was already too deep in the mix to make it anything but a perfect fit.

Angus had been sitting quietly watching, listening as Angus was quite good at doing, but at Bremmer’s words, he spoke. “I don’t personally wish to see another leader or head of council. I agree that there needs to be an overseer, but I’d prefer to see that position defined more as a chairman or something of that nature. What I do not want to see is any one vote with a heavier weight than another.” His words were strong and met with a majority of nodding heads.

“Well in that case, what do you say, Angus? Up for the challenge?” Truman wasn’t kidding when he said the words. Angus had proved his command and his morality, and Truman would have no problem standing behind him. He sure as hell didn’t want the job himself. It was hard enough being saddled with the responsibility of the council after centuries of running free and refusing his familial responsibilities. Angus, on the other hand, was level, passionate, honest, and fair. He was controlled and strong, and he would make an outstanding chairman, and as one after another of the councilmen showed their favor, Angus’ gaze found Truman’s, and Truman smirked.

Truman stood to leave, already wanting to return to Ember, but as he did, Langford interrupted. “Uh. We have one issue we need to discuss.” Truman froze, eying the man with a good-natured raise of the brow. “Loose cannon of sorts by the name of Driscoll. He’s from my family line, and he’s attracted the attention of the police after getting a bit sloppy in his hunting. One detective in particular has been spending a good deal of time snooping and asking questions, and I’m not sure we’ll be able to shelter him for much longer. She’s suspicious.”

Truman commented sarcastically. “Don’t look at me. I only work here. You have a leader.” And then smirking at Angus, he continued. “That’s your man right there.”

Angus returned the smirk, before addressing Langford. “She, huh? Well I think I’ll have a talk with the good detective.” And as Truman stood to leave, Angus spoke again. “What was her name?”

“Detective Sutton. Brit Sutton. Apparently she’s determined, fiery, temperamental, full of piss and vinegar, pain in the ass sort, and causing all sorts of problems for us at the moment.”

“Sounds like my kind of lady.” And as the table chuckled at Angus’ sarcasm, the men stood, and Truman made his escape.

* * *

She was waiting for him. She’d wait forever for him if she had to, but she didn’t have to. They had packed what few possessions they had at the council’s building, and all were shipped to their new home—or new to her. It was Truman’s home in Gloucester that would become theirs. He’d not taken her to see it in all their time there, and she was nervous. What if she hated it? She couldn’t imagine, but the what-if plagued her. Would she have the nerve to tell him? Of course not. And what was really the chance she could dislike anything of his? Little.

When Truman entered, she was lying on the chaise, staring at the ceiling. When he approached, she smirked, and he did too. When he sat, she reached for his body. Her hand trailed to his groin as he watched her face, but his hand stilled her the moment her palm met his already hard arousal straining against the pants. “Later, love—when I can get you into my own bed … or any one of the numerous other places in my home I’ve long imagined fucking you.” And leaning to her mouth, he planted a quick kiss. As he pulled her to her feet and walked her to the door, they paused and looked back at the spacious residence.

They wouldn’t be giving it up permanently. It would be kept for them when they needed to stay in the council’s building, but they’d decided together that a life of privacy was what they truly wanted. Truman’s family had been restored to their residences in his family’s building, but Truman’s private home was where they would build their life together.

When they entered the lobby, the valet was waiting. He was smiling at her, and Truman’s hand tightened on hers for half a second. It was nothing more than a protective move, unneeded with Jonathan, but present out of habit. When Jonathan reached for her hand, she pulled hers from Truman’s, and rather than shaking his hand, she pulled him to a hug. He stilled for moment before returning her gesture, and when she pulled from him, she winked. “Thank you, Jonathan … for everything.” She owed him a debt of gratitude, and she wouldn’t forget it soon. He was human, and while he may suspect he worked for some fairly peculiar folk, he still smiled at her warmly.

Truman’s car was waiting warm at the curb, and as Truman opened her door and helped her in, he leaned in after her, capturing her lips. She watched as his lithe and graceful body rounded the car to his side. He shook Jonathan’s hand. It was the only real emotion he showed the man, but it spoke volumes regardless.

They wound through the traffic of the night toward his home in Gloucester, and as they left Boston behind, he reached for her hand. This night would definitely go down in history as one of her absolute favorites. She felt freer than life had ever allowed her to feel. They were safe, and their enemies were all tucked safely into the ground six feet under where they belonged. They had an eternity with one another, and there was no longer a doubt in her mind that she belonged to him as much as he’d always belonged to her—even when she couldn’t recall it.

As they entered the large and secluded beachfront cottage just outside of Gloucester, she gasped. It was beautiful; stunning actually. It wasn’t at all what she’d pictured. Now that she could recall him fully, she knew he wasn’t one for contemporary style, but after living so fully in their über-contemporary residence in Boston and her limited memory of his more contemporary home in Portland, she’d assumed, incorrectly, that it would be cold, stark, and uninviting. But this place was anything but. It was expansive. The windows were all large and open to the view of the Atlantic Ocean. His shoreline was rocky in places and sandy and perfect for swimming in others. His yard was large and deep and had more centuries-old trees than she could count.

The interior was everything she could want. Pieces of his more simple-designed antiques were dispersed throughout, and the furniture made her body want to melt into it. Comfortable and inviting. The smell was delicious, and his scent was everywhere around her. She wandered as he trailed after her. The kitchen was as devoid of everything as his kitchen in Portland had been, but the rest of the home was filled perfectly with his style. An office sat to the side of the living room with an incredible view out to the back veranda and its large paving stones, and as she wandered in, she stopped still. There were two desks in the large room, sitting along the walls caddy-corner from one another, but it was what was above one desk in particular that stilled her steps.

Her diploma hung in a beautiful mahogany frame, and as she approached the desk with her fingers reaching out to the smooth, old surface she knew well from his Portland home and her research project, she smiled, and he moved in behind her.

“I wanted you to have your space in our home. You’ll be working soon enough. Do you like the desk? I picked it from my collection especially for you.” And as her fingers moved over the wood, his moved to her hips, pulling her bottom to his groin. Her fingers traced the raised wood on the drawer front. “You’ll note the cockbeading your fingers are so fond of…” His voice was purred into her ear from behind her body, and as her memories of her first time in his home in Portland ran through her mind, his hard length ground into her backside, and she shuddered.

When he reached around her body to the drawer, he pulled it smoothly open. It was empty of the antique books it once held, and in their place was one lonely black velvet cinch bag, and as his hand pulled it out, her body warmed and excited. She knew the bag, and she knew what it held, and as he loosened the top of the bag, holding it out to her, her fingers pulled out the glass phallic instrument. Her warmth turned to wetness, and her body melted.

“Ready to see our bedroom?” She nodded as he nuzzled her neck and wrapped his arms warmly around her.

She knew him so well, and now, thanks to the trauma of near death, she knew she knew him well. She loved him, and she now understood just how much and for how long she’d carried that love for him. It had never really left her, buried as it might have been. The memories and feelings had always been there, waiting to get out, and now that they were, she was in heaven. She was safe, and she belonged to the man she loved for the rest of eternity.

“What if you get tired of me after a century or two?” She spoke quietly as her fingers ran over the cool glass surface of the instrument. She didn’t even believe it was really possible for them to tire of one another. It was a logical question of course, but she trusted his love for her that much. “What if you leave me?”

“Not even I could do such a thing. Not ever.” And after kissing her neck where his mouth was already nudging and nibbling at her skin, he reached to her hand and turned her to face him. “Now, upstairs; more specifically, our bedroom, and if that’s still not specific enough, our bed.” Then purring in her favorite seductive voice that had her wetness pooling in an instant, he spoke once more. “You are my Ember. You smoldered in my heart for years, threatening to ignite a fire in my soul, and now that I have your fire, I’ll never let it go out.” And he kissed her sweetly on the tip of her nose before leading her upstairs to the bedroom. Their bedroom.

The End

Content

Immortal Protector
The Immortals - 1
Elizabeth Finn

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue