CHAPTER 18
Iro
Iro climbed into the back seat of the car, needing to get out of the sun and behind the specially tinted windows.
She let her head hit the back of the seat and tried not to think about how good Arwen smelled.
When Iro had woken up, she’d breathed her in accidentally, and the scent of Arwen’s blood had made her realize just how hungry she really was and how dangerous it was for her to be around Arwen until she ate something.
She knew in her soul that she would never want to hurt Arwen, and she’d developed strong self-control over the years, but she had not paid enough attention to her diet and her time outside, and when she’d smelled Arwen’s obvious arousal, things had gone from bad to worse, and she had needed to leave.
Sex and blood were so intertwined in her mind, and likely, in the minds of most vampires, because once one knew that they were going to live forever and that there were no consequences, things got blurry, and it became a lot easier to fuck a stranger while you drained their blood and leave them for dead right after.
Unlearning that kind of thing could take centuries, and during their first hundred years together, Iro had let Cassia take the lead, telling her what to do, who to kill, who to turn, who to bite and let live, and she still and always would hate herself for that.
“Why deny yourself the pleasure?” had been Cassia’s usual response whenever Iro had approached her about stopping the killing and asked if they could eat animals instead.
Iro was ashamed to think back to a time when she’d let Cassia tell her what to do in all things.
Hell, she hated herself that she’d come running when Cassia had called and that she had given Cassia exactly what she’d wanted.
She was only remotely proud of herself for leaving and not giving in further.
She took a deep breath, wanting to inhale the usual scent of the car, which was detailed regularly and still had that newness in its smell that seemed to calm her. Only this time, there was something different. It was something that Iro could not handle right now.
“Are you bleeding?” she asked her driver, who had just pulled out into traffic.
“Sorry, Ma’am?”
“Are you bleeding somewhere?”
“Oh, on my finger,” he said and held up his index finger. “It’s dry now, though. Got a cut last night.”
Iro swallowed hard and felt the slow emergence of her fangs.
She closed her eyes and thought about anything other than the smell of his blood.
In her mind, she pictured Arwen walking into the bar that first night.
She thought about how beautiful she had looked.
She thought about those eyes she wanted to fall into.
Then, she opened her own eyes and felt her fangs retreat.
“See that you get it looked at by someone. It’s infected,” she told the driver.
“It is?” he asked and looked at his finger.
“Eyes on the road. And, yes.” Iro cleared her throat. “I can tell from here.”
“I should’ve just let my wife handle the bandaging up. She’s a nurse, after all.”
“Yes, see that she does. Oh, and take me home, please; not the office.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied.
The drive to her house was longer, unfortunately, as if Iro needed one more challenge to deal with right now.
She needed to think about the fact that the blood coming from his wound smelled and would taste disgusting.
The rest of it didn’t, which wasn’t helping, but she tried to picture tasting the infected blood, and that nearly moved her to vomit.
She found a bottle of water and downed all of it quickly, needing to get home as soon as possible.
◆◆◆
When Iro finally walked through her front door, she made a beeline for her pantry.
Keys were tossed somewhere. Her shoes were kicked off and landed somewhere else.
She pressed the button, but instead of waiting for the heavy door to open on its own, she yanked it, found the round container of pig’s blood she’d gotten from a butcher, opened the lid, and guzzled.
She didn’t sip. She didn’t drink. She guzzled.
It was cold and awful, but she didn’t have the patience to wait for it to heat up fully.
Finishing the first container in seconds, she set it down on the shelf at her right and pulled another.
She drank that one a little more slowly, grabbed a third, and closed the refrigerator.
This should hold her over, but she’d need more soon.
On her way to take a shower, she drank from the third container and set it down on her bathroom sink, not caring about a blood ring forming around it because she could deal with that later.
Seconds after that, though, still very hungry, she picked the container back up and finished it.
Then, having practically torn off her clothes, she turned on her shower and climbed inside right away.
The water wasn’t hot yet, but she needed a distraction, to focus on something other than the fact that she wanted to run through this town and drink from every person she saw.
Her fangs out, she aimed her blood-coated mouth at the water and rinsed until all the blood was gone and her fangs finally receded.
She washed herself, trying to get separation from the blood she still smelled everywhere and the fact that she had smelled Arwen’s intoxicating arousal not all that long ago.
She didn’t want to link blood with sex where Arwen was concerned, so she resisted the urge to touch herself while in the shower.
It would have temporarily relieved the pain and the tension that came from being a vampire whose sex drive exceeded any human’s, but she had gotten sloppy.
She needed sex, and she knew it. It had been too long.
That had been the reason she’d gone when Cassia had called.
It had always been great sex with the two of them, but now, being with Arwen, she needed more.
She silently cursed herself as she turned the water off and got out because she had been the one to suggest that they wait.
She did want to wait, but if she and Arwen were already doing that, Iro wouldn’t need it this badly right now.
Before she could sleep the day away, she needed at least something, but she wasn’t about to mess things up with Arwen by finding a random woman to sate her.
She certainly would not be going to Cassia after she had just told her that it was over between them, so that meant it was up to her.
It would not be the same, and she rarely touched herself, only when necessary to get through the day or night, but she lay down on her bed without moving the blanket or the sheets or even drying off her body, and she stroked herself.
It was hard and fast until she came, but it wasn’t enough.
She needed more. Frustrated, Iro reached into her drawer and found a vibrator.
She pressed it to her clit, let it take her over the edge, and she still wanted more.
She thought about how good Arwen smelled and how much she wanted to taste her and to be inside her when she came, connected to those hazel eyes as they sought seconds of pleasure at her hand, and she came a third time.
Panting, Iro hoped that she wouldn’t need another one, but she was a vampire.
Vampires always needed another one. They always seemed to need more.
So, she pulled one of the dildos from her drawer and, hoping that this would finally sate her for the time being, she pushed it inside easily.
Picturing Arwen on top of her, fingers buried deep, she gasped, pressed the vibrator back to her clit, and pumped the toy in and out, harder and faster than maybe she’d ever had, not worrying about hurting herself or being sore later because that would not happen.
Healing definitely had its major advantages, but the temptation to never stop wasn’t one of them.
As she came, Iro pictured Arwen’s eyes looking down at her.
“Yes, baby! Take me,” she said to no one.
Arwen, in her fantasy, had done just that, and Iro came down a minute later while still moving the dildo inside herself but having turned the vibrator off, at least. Her body continued to be on fire, though, so it was time for a cold shower.
As she stood under the spray again, she thought about how she had left things with Arwen.
Remembering the confused look on Arwen’s face, she wished that they could redo their first morning together.
She would’ve woken Arwen up slowly, kissing every inch of skin that she could find, and they would’ve made love just as slowly before she pulled out her favorite book of poetry by one of the masters and read it to Arwen as she held her.
Maybe Arwen would have fallen back asleep, and Iro would’ve gone to make them breakfast. They would’ve eaten in the dining room like civilized adults, but on their way to the kitchen to deposit their dishes, Iro would’ve taken Arwen against the counter and tasted her arousal, letting it coat her lips and tongue before she picked Arwen up, placed her on the kitchen island, and pushed her tongue inside, craving more of her.
“Fuck. No. Not again,” she said, pressing her palm to the shower wall. “Get it together,” she scolded herself. “God, I want her. Steady supply of blood. Steady supply of self-administered orgasms. Stay on track. Stay on plan, Iro.”