36. Rune
Rune
Iglance up at the sky, swearing I hear the low roll of thunder, but only see stars above me.
The weight in my chest twists around my heart, and my pulse slowly starts to rise. Like it’s trying not to, but it can’t help it.
I reach across myself and drag my fingertip over the row of onyx beads still around my wrist.
I usually don’t sleep in my bracelets. But I couldn’t bring myself to take this one off.
It makes me feel close to him.
I take another few steps forward.
This direction feels wrong. But it all feels wrong.
Being alone feels wrong.
I don’t notice the echo of voices until a group of men round the end of the block ahead of me.
There are four of them. They’re still fifty steps away. But they’re coming this way.
And I know they’ve spotted me, because they start to grin.
One of the men opens his mouth.
Then he walks into… an invisible wall.
There is no other way to describe it.
His face scrunches. His head turns to the side. His shoulders move back as his hand presses against his chest. And the man next to him does the same thing.
I stop, staring, while the next two men don’t stop in time and crash into the first two.
It’s like a drunken mime routine.
They shove away from each other, visibly shaking themselves off.
One of the men glares at me and starts to shout. “What did you—” Then his eyes shift, and he takes a stumbling step back.
Another man lifts his hand, pointing at me. “L-lady, b-behind—”
All at once, all four men fall backward, landing on their butts.
Their mouths are open, like they’re screaming, but there’s no sound.
I press my lips together as my jaw pulses with pressure.
I’ve lost my mind.
The men start sliding away. Backward. In a sitting position.
I have truly gone mad.
Their legs kick. They twist side to side, like something is wrapped around them.
But they keep moving away from me. To the end of the block.
Movement in my peripheral catches my attention.
Slowly, I turn my head to the left, and I find myself staring at a hand.
A massive hand. With black fingernails. Attached to a corded forearm. With a brightly colored heart bracelet stretched around the thick wrist.
This can’t be real.
The fingers twitch, and out of the corner of my eye, I see the four men disappear around the corner.
But I don’t look away from the hand.
The weight in my chest surges backward, forcing me to take a step.
And I collide with the large body behind me.
When we touch, something strong sparks through the air.
Relief and belonging and a sense of rightness pour over me as the body against my back purrs.
Emotion wraps itself around my throat as the soothing vibrations soak into my bones.
Please let this be real.
My head swims. And I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a thunderstorm that I never want to leave.
The chest at my back rises and falls with breath. In sync with mine.
I need this to be real.
Then the hand, wearing my missing bracelet, lowers. Slowly. Glacially. Until the large palm settles on my shoulder. Against my bare skin.
The heat of his touch is immense. A sound of pleasure seeps from my lungs. And his other hand grips the flare of my hip.
Fabric separates our skin there, but the heat is no less intense.
The vibration of his purr rolls through his fingertips. Molten tendrils of desire crawl across my skin, sinking into my stomach. Then lower.
I lean into the sturdiness at my back, feeling him everywhere.
Loving the way he’s surrounding me.
Gods, he’s so… big.
His hands. His body. The hardness pressing into my lower back…
My thighs clench as my core throbs with desire.
“Tell me you’re real.” My plea comes out as a whisper.
Long fingers flex against my body. “I am real, Mon Coeur.”
My eyelids flutter at the feel of his voice as it rumbles out of his chest.
I heard it before. Through my bathroom mirror.
I’d recognize it anywhere. But hearing it in person. Feeling it against my person…
It’s the best sound.
Deep. Gravelly. Thick. Accented. Mine.
I reach down and press my hand on top of his against my hip.
His muscles and tendons jump as he flexes his grip once more, his fingers digging into the softness of my body.
Needing to hold him, I slide my palm over the back of his hand, feeling how hot his skin is, feeling how much bigger he is, until I reach his fingers. Then I wrap mine around his pointer finger. Gripping him. Never wanting to let go.
The body behind me shifts, and I feel his exhale dance through my hair. “Tell me your name.”
Gripping his finger, I reach my other hand up.
As my hand nears his, he slides his palm forward, down from my shoulder, so it’s flat against my chest. Over my heartbeat.
It’s intimate. Not something I should let an unseen stranger do.
But he’s not a stranger.
He’s my vampire.