Chapter 10 Lucian
Lucian
I’m fucking starving.
Being wrapped around her half the day, my face in her hair and neck, breathing in the scent of her blood right fucking there is one thing.
But having her move against me, her breathy little moans inviting more trouble than she comprehends, is an entire other.
She has no clue the predator she’s taunting.
I’m seconds—fractions—away from losing myself in her. From answering that little curiosity from earlier and allowing her to figure out for herself if feeding is painful on the victim or not.
The way she felt beneath my hands, the way her body moved like the little creeks that run wild in the summertime… My tongue jams into my fangs to prevent from making a noise. I could have fucked her in my bed this morning and had her screaming my name all day.
But then she’d hate me, and I’d take my own life before letting that happen.
Every time she glances at my fangs, they crave her throat, and then using them to rip off her clothes. She’s slowly becoming mine; I’m making her trust me the natural way, and tonight will only improve this.
It’s ridiculous how this scrap of a mortal can own so much of me while having no clue how I’m all torn up for her. It makes no sense. This…this obsession Alec once warned me of is more powerful than I ever guessed it could be.
Hunting and feeding before taking her to the other cabin would be wise, but since playing on the edge of temptation sounds like a sure-fire way to Hell, I resist. All day, her mouth-watering scent has made it literally impossible to not breathe—I need to take it in.
Her blood, her skin, and her arousal.
She tried to hide feeling it this morning in bed, but it’d be an impossible feat no matter how hard she attempted.
There are no words to describe a woman’s lust, but Sawyer’s specifically may be what breaks me.
Sweet and heady; an aroma I could very well trace anywhere through the forest and find her.
When night finally falls, I begin rounding up everything she’s been slowly unpacking—her soap and bathroom supplies namely—and zip them into her suitcase before dropping it by the door. I gather all her food into spare bags and rest those by the doors too.
“Uh…” She tracks me back and forth. “What are you doing?”
Without answering, I dress her in her coat and zip it up, using my natural speed before she can consider pushing me away. “Will you be good on my back while I carry everything?”
She eyes my growing pile by the door. “Sure, but where are we going?”
I take her hand, press a chaste kiss to the back of her knuckles in a move reminiscent of my own time, and then hoist her up, letting her scramble into place on my back.
Her legs tighten around my hips, her arms looping my neck, and when satisfied she’s settled comfortably and securely, I retrieve the rest of her things and take off into the sub-zero winter temperatures.
Within a minute of the run, she buries her face in my neck, and her shuddering breath blows hot over my nape.
Her fingers curl into my shirt, gripping tighter, and her low curse pushes my legs faster until reaching the road she should have continued driving on the other night to reach her destination.
If fate didn’t want me to own her, that is.
The cabin is still unlocked from my visit last night and I rush inside and shut the door to cut off the blustering wind and save as much of the interior heat as possible. My human needs warmth, and warmth is what she’ll get.
Her bag makes a light thud when dropping it onto the floor beside the stairs leading up to the bedroom loft, and by the time I’m resting her food onto the kitchen counter, Sawyer’ head finally lifts from my neck.
“What the—wait…”
She scrambles from my back, and although I’m remiss to release her, I also desire her reaction as she takes in all that’s been done for her.
Stolen ornaments hang on the tree; the rest of the cabin is decked out with every holiday decoration the local stores still had in stock, hot chocolate in the cupboards, and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon waiting by the fireplace.
A gingerbread house kit waits on the counter to be built and devoured by her.
It’s been centuries since decorating for holidays, and while styles and décor evolved, conceptually it was similar enough to be a reminder of my human life. A reminder of my past family and how Sawyer’s on her way to becoming my new one.
“It’s decorated.” She paces forward, her head turning every way, continuously returning to the tree. “The cabin I rented… You did this?”
“Yes.”
She turns back around. “Why?”
“To give you a holiday celebration worth remembering. The one you attempted before a moose changed the course of your life. My cabin isn’t a home; it’s not suited for your needs. Hopefully this is to your liking.”
“Liking?” She rubs a hand over her mouth before wandering towards the large window to peer at the snowy outdoors. “Lucian, this is everything.”
She spends the next few minutes poking at the tree, inspecting a few of the ornaments and the white lights, then the fireplace which I’ll light for her shortly.
She drags her fingertips over the unlit candles on the coffee table, the fluffy snowflake-patterned fleece blanket folded on the back of the couch, the Santa figurines lined up against a wall, and everything else I don’t fully understand but stole regardless.
In the kitchen, she inspects more of the sugary, green-coloured snacks, as well as the gingerbread house kit.
As she passes the tree for a second time, the lights catches on a glimmer—a tear— sliding down her cheek. In a flash, I’m beside her, wiping my thumb against it. All this was so she didn’t cry.
“Is something missing? Is there more I could have done?”
She turns in my arms and giggles, which comes out as a blubbering sound. Which only serves to confuse me because two hundred years of immortality, and mortals still don’t always make sense.
With speed rivaling that of a vampire’s, she lunges into my arms, yanks my head down to hers, and claims my mouth for her own.
Her lips are warm, like the fire that’ll soon be lit, and as soft as the blanket on the couch.
She’s unyielding at first, reading my own response as fingers dive into my hair and grip the back of my neck.
I let her get comfortable, to ease into the concept of us, questioning with the gentlest nudge if this is okay.
And then I take over and slant my mouth over hers.
One hand grips her hair to angle her, while my other cups her ass and lifts her until her legs wind around my waist. Her lips part, letting me taste everything she is and everything she gives me.
I kiss her until she softens while simultaneously tightening her grip around my neck—until she presses her chest into me and a breathy moan confirms her comfort.
Desire pushes my fangs out until they nick her bottom lip without breaking the skin. She gasps, pulling away. A hitch of her breath, her tongue sweeping where my teeth were until it glistens, and then she accepts the inevitable and brings me back to her.
Maintaining my grip, I back up and drop onto the couch, her over my lap. With both hands free, I crush her to me, tilting her head, taking her harder and deeper, my tongue swiping through her mouth and claiming every part for myself.
Soon, I’ll claim the rest of her body too.
She rocks her hips, and my cock responds. Knowing Sawyer, she’ll yank away soon, so while she’s with me, I make it worth it. Hands control her hips to push her down while thrusting up. Her breath hitches and she grows desperate, her fingers in my hair clamping hold.
Until, right on track, she tilts away. “We shouldn’t.”
Her hesitation dies when my lips move to her neck. Cupping my hand around the back until fingertips brush her pulse, I nip the area, purposely skimming my fangs until she’s moaning and shivering and pressing down onto me, presenting herself as a tasty little holiday treat I’d be remiss to deny.
My free hand slips beneath her top, pushing the material upwards.
Slowly at first, until reaching the edge of her bra.
Then I yank it off all the way and toss it to the side, my gaze rapt on the black cotton she carried to the bathroom with her yesterday afternoon.
If I’d known earlier that day, after she woke when I had her beneath me, that she was bare beneath my hoodie, her little nipples begging for attention, I’d have provided.
I would have lifted that sweater higher and explored until she was moaning my name.
“Lucian…”
Yes, like that.
Whether my name on her tongue is a complaint or encouragement, she doesn’t add to it. It trails into pleasure as my lips shift from her neck, licking along the edge of her bra while waiting for permission.
She releases my head to grip my shoulders, fingers curling until nails dig into my shirt. Desire rockets through her, consuming the room with an inescapable scent that makes my cock rigid. One I’ll be sure to make her signature scent the rest of her life.
“We shouldn’t.”
With my teeth, I tug one cup of her bra down, baring a dusky rose nipple, but pause to look at her instead of acting upon my desires. Blue flames stare back, her lips slightly parted and swollen. Her hair, tangled from my hands, tumbles over her shoulders.
I take her mouth again, then trace a final lick along her lip before whispering, “Let me.”
“But you’re a…”
“A vampire. That means years of experience. Let me.”
I return to her breast, dragging my fangs slowly down her skin. Indents from my fangs linger, and I do it again, making them red. My third pass takes her nipple into my mouth, wrapping my tongue around the hard nub until any of her lingering concerns are lapped away.
Her head falls back, and her hips drop onto mine.
She rocks once, testing, and then again when I don’t hinder her.
Stopping will be the last thing I’ll do.
I’ll fuck her right here on this couch if she allows, and then every other surface in this cabin.
In front of the tree, the window, the fireplace, over the coffee table, on the counters, in the shower, and on the bed.
There won’t be a place untouched if she consents.
“Fuck, I feel so—” She cuts herself off with a little whine, so I unhook her bra and discard it to the side to take her other breast in hand, squeezing. Her hips move faster, and I thrust up into her.
I kiss between her breasts, paying equal attention to both, purposely dragging my fangs along her skin while waiting for permission to sink them into her. She’s sensitive—this I learn quickly when every gentle bite of a nipple creates a chorus of breathy sounds.
I’ll be able to compose my own little orchestra from her pleasure.
She speeds up, chasing the approaching orgasm that sweetens the room. Her hands fist my shirt, and her head falls forward, and then back, as desperation makes her mindless. My nips and licks don’t slow, and with the next squeeze of her breast, she presses down onto me and cries out.
Cum dampens her panties. The fragrance is all-consuming, enticing my hunger right down to my soul. Drinking from her and fucking is all I can focus on.
Panting, she lifts her head. Pink flushes her cheeks as she stares down at her lap, and then at my face, presumably seeing the monster she’s coming around to not fearing.
“I, uh…sorry.”
She rips from my hold, grabs her bra and shirt, and takes off for the bathroom.