32. They’re all Murder-y
32
THEY’RE ALL MURDER-Y
SAYAH
W hen we land in New York and make our way to the baggage claim, I look around nervously for the coven of vampires that we’re coming to meet.
“Who’s picking us up?” I ask as we retrieve our luggage from the spinning carousel.
“My mom. Her name is Adaline. And don’t worry. She’ll love you. But when in doubt, tell her you’ll spell a necklace for her.”
“Dom!” a voice calls.
I turn around to see a beautiful blonde woman running up to him.
She’s as tall as he is and reminds me of a Viking warrior princess. Her hair is pulled back into two French braids that are bejeweled. Her brown leather jacket matches her thigh high-heel leather boots that allows her to tower over me. She still looks as though she’s in her thirties, but in human years Dom said she’s in her fifties, being only sixteen when she had Bash. Her eyes are the same color as Dom’s, bright hazel green, and there isn’t anything about her that screams vampire.
Until she turns and eyes me; only then do I feel her power like evaporating ice.
“Mom, this is my girlfriend Sayah. ”
“That’s a pretty name,” she says, holding out her hand for me to shake. “I’m Adaline.”
“Thank you. Pleased to meet you.”
There’s a sinister softness in Adaline’s eyes that is a juxtaposition of beauty and danger. She looks as though she would take you to lunch and treat you well, but would also cut your head off in an instant and not smudge her makeup.
My heart’s pounding so hard it might kill me before Adaline can.
Or make me faint.
It’s hot in here.
Meeting the parents of a boyfriend is unnerving as it is, but meeting a vampire who’s a witch, makes it ten times worse.
A man comes up behind her who matches Adaline’s Viking vibe. He’s taller than her, which puts him at about six-foot-five. He has blonde hair too, that’s more on the dirty blonde side and hangs around his shoulders. He’s muscular and has bright blue eyes, his arms covered in ink. He’s handsome but in a rugged manly way. I can see him chopping wood on the moors of Scotland in a kilt.
“Dominic,” he says, his voice hard and unemotional.
“Father,” Dom says, shaking his hand. “This is Sayah. Sayah, this is my dad, Everett.”
“How do you do, dear?” he asks.
Both he and Adaline have British accents which is weird because I thought they were from Italy.
As we walk to the car, Dom holds my hand and squeezes it.
“Why are they British?” I ask in a whisper, knowing they can probably hear me anyway.
“We moved around a lot. We lived in England for a long time. My mom liked the way they talked, and I think it probably grew on them after a while.”
I nod.
Out of all the things that I’d learned these last few months, misplaced accents are the least of my worries.
As the dark scenery of the highway blazes by in city lights and traffic—although it’s around midnight—New York is still buzzing with life at this hour. I let my mind drift to the landscape of tall buildings and businesses, lights twinkling all colors, fading into dark country roads with a copse of trees here and there to a full-blown forest of Uncas-Trees. My mother and aunt Janet had dubbed them Uncas-Trees back when I was a kid driving to Lake George, which are forests of Aspen trees jumbled together so much that they could see Uncas from Last of the Mohicans running through them. The old Adirondacks appear ahead like guardians of the upstate part of New York from the busy and bedraggled concrete monsters of the city.
I look through the windshield of the Lincoln Everett is driving and see him take his hand off the wheel and gently put it on Adaline’s lap and lovingly they twist their fingers.
It's nice to see monsters embrace each other.
It’s close to two in the morning when we arrive at our cabin on the lake, which is all but dark along with the rest of the sleeping neighborhood, save for a few old-fashioned lantern street lamps that line the thin road. The lake is big and beautiful from what I can see though; old, rounded mountains surrounding the still water that reflects all the slumbering cabin lights.
The cabin we pull up to is gigantic.
As we enter the massive entryway, even this room has paintings on the walls. I slip out of my shoes and enter a high-ceilinged kitchen with beams and stainless-steel appliances, black marble, oak furniture, and glass windows from ceiling to floor. Beautiful wainscotting travels all along the edges, giving the mansion a rustic cabin-in-the-woods feel with a hint of opulence and money.
“How are there so many windows in here ?” I ask myself, but try to project it to Dom.
“Tapered windows. UV lights can’t get in ,” responds a voice that’s not my own.
I realize we now have a shared secret. I can let him into my head when I allow him to.
The kitchen empties into the living room which is furnished with large and plush brown couches, a giant stone fireplace, and the same floor-to-ceiling windows .
“I’ll show you two to your room,” Adaline says, walking to the far wall where a spiral staircase sits.
I follow her up the stairs and down a long hall to a bedroom at the end.
Another large room, same windows but the ceilings aren’t as high here. The bed is a California king four-poster bed, and off to one side, I can see a large bathroom. It’s dark, but I can also make out a balcony beyond the two French doors.
“I’m sure you two want to get some sleep,” Adaline says. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight, Mom,” Dom says, and kisses her cheek.
She smirks at me and leaves, shutting the door behind her.
“Well, even if I hadn’t figured out that you were a vampire by now, I would have known something was up by your parents.”
“Why’s that?” Dom asks, hoisting his suitcase up to the bed and unzipping it.
“Because they’re all murder-y,” I reply, getting to my suitcase as well.
He chuckles a bit and pulls out his shower bag.
I take my jeans off and slide out of my panties, slipping on my silk pajama top. I don’t wear bras anymore so there isn’t one to worry about taking off. As I dress for bed, I can’t help but notice him staring at me.
“So that was weird what we did down there,” I say, taking my shower bag out as well and retrieving my toothbrush and paste.
“I thought so, too,” he says, flashing over closer to me and playing with a button on my shirt.
“What do you think that was?” I ask, slithering my arms around his neck.
“I’m not sure,” he answers, peppering the column of my neck with soft kisses.
“Can you see my thoughts a lot?” I inquire, finding it harder to concentrate as he trails kisses down the front of my shirt.
“Only when you let me,” he replies, his voice muffled under my skin .
Relief washes over me a bit when I know he can’t always read my thoughts. Some things happen in my mind I don’t want him to know about.
Not yet anyway.
As he continues to kiss me, he pulls up my shirt and kisses the newly uncovered territory, cupping one of my breasts in his strong hand.
Closing my eyes, I picture that wall of protection that I cage my thoughts within turning paper thin and fading just enough to let him in.
“Fuck me hard against the wall ,” I unvoice my desire to his mind.
His mouth—that mouth that keeps me up at night—curls, his upper lip exquisitely sculpted, a little bit sensitive and a whole lot of dangerous, telling me, “ Just you fucking wait to see how hard I can fuck you now.”
He flashes me to the far wall and the rush of the air is fucking indescribable as we collide with the drywall, the impact rattling the pictures hanging above it. He caresses my hardened nipple and growls in response, my clit tingling and aching for his touch. But he doesn’t oblige me, not yet. He braces his hands above my head against the wall, caging me in, his deadly mouth on mine claiming it for his own.
I chase his tongue, the strokes of it as my hands find the ripples of his arms that tower above me. I drink from his hunger and lift his shirt over his head. He pauses the kiss for a millisecond before the shirt is off and he’s back on me, devouring me with teeth and tongue. My fingers tangle in his hair as he rips my shirt off. His mouth consumes the peak of my breast into it; his fang pierces my nipple and that delicious pain eviscerates any other thoughts I have other than I want his cock inside me now.
I find that beautiful dick, hard and gorgeous and just fucking perfect as I slither my hands beneath his pants. The sound that escapes his throat causes both my nipples and clit to tingle in such a way, a symphony would blush at the vibration. His pants are gone now and I have no idea what magick he’s using, but I’m here for it. I match his energy and the temperature in the room rises .
He grabs the backs of my knees and pulls me up on him, colliding with my mouth as I interlock my legs behind him, feeling the head of him at my entrance. I arch my hips so he slides against my clit and moan in response. He nips my lower lip and I’m mindless with desire. My head falls back and I see the stars through the ceiling.
Is this his magick?
I look at him and ravenous eyes are on me, devouring my soul with one look.
“You don’t care that we’re about to fuck in your mom’s house?” I unvoice to him again.
“I’ll fuck you anywhere. Anytime. Any place. I don’t care who’s watching.”
Fuck that’s hot.
I bounce on him, wiggling so that his dick slides closer to entering me, but he flashes us to the other wall with a window facing the dark lake. I moan as he pins my hands above my head. He rocks his hips so that the back of his dick is sliding back and forth on my clit.
“Fuck me, Dom.”
His penetrating gaze collides with mine and he pushes into me with one long roll of his hips until he’s buried to the hilt within me. I cry out and muffle my scream by biting my hand and he whips my hand away.
“I don’t care who hears you, I want the gods to hear you scream my name.”
Fuck my life.
I’m already fighting the urge to cum the second his thrusts begin. Whatever power he has or he’s using must intensify the feelings of euphoria because fuck me running, this shit is almost unbearable.
I writhe on top of him against the wall, matching his thrusts, grabbing for anything to anchor me to the Earth as the entire world tilts.
“Harder.”
He moves at a pace I can’t comprehend, and I don’t know how I’m being held up anymore. His hands are everywhere.
They’re on my nipples, on my neck, on my ass, and in my hair.
But most deliciously, he is massaging my clit at the same time pummeling me with his hard and glorious dick. The motions can only be described as akin to my vibrator at home—the rabbit with vibrating ears.
Yeah. That’s what vampire sex is like.
Holy fucking gods in heaven, this man is now like my own personal dildo. As the wave of my orgasm plummets me into outer space, I see colors that don’t exist in this reality; I hear angels singing and volcanoes erupting; shit, the mountains themselves are quaking with envy as this man nearly kills me with pleasure.
“Then I will fucking die with you.”
“Cum with me.”
“You feel so fucking good,” he purrs. The entire room is spinning and I can see nothing but him.
“Oh. Fuck. Dom, yes! Yes ! Harder! Harder!” I scream, bouncing my ass to meet his hips, the length of him burying deeper and deeper in me each time.
His control snaps and his eyes flare as he catapults us into the ether. The universe responds to our coiled reserves of power as they snap; my orgasm ruining me from the inside out, destroying any other sensation other than pure, cataclysmic ecstasy.
We shudder as we cum together; I’m riding him and the wave of my orgasm, letting myself feel it from crescendo to hush, the magick in the room pulsing with our desire.
When the world stops spinning, I notice that the entire room is in disarray, even though we only fucked against the two walls.
“Um… What?” I ask.
“Your power. It seems I awakened it a bit.” He laughs and the sound of it lulls me to my marrow.
“Wow. That’s . . . new.”
“I’ll take it as a compliment.” His drugging kiss is on me again, flashing us over to the bed where I fall on top of him, his hard dick still in me as I ride him slowly.
I want more.