Chapter 63
Chapter Sixty-Three
Spain had not forsaken me.
She greeted us with glorious, vibrant landscapes, the freshest breeze, and the friendliest Latin faces. I had to hold back tears of relief at returning to my homeland, for fear of drawing attention.
Later, my mood turned sour – having long ago dreamed that I’d one day return with Jacob. My chest ached with grief. If I had been in denial, coming here ended such sentimentality.
My son should have been here with us.
Sunaria squeezed my hand, aware of my anguish, and with a nod, I acknowledged my appreciation.
Marcus had argued with me when I’d told him my plans. He’d been heartbroken. I’d stood before him silent, stone-faced, waiting for him to finish beseeching me to stay. He’d eventually agreed to remain behind and continue to take care of all our business dealings.
Marcus’ expression that evening never wavered from my memory, his words still resonating in my mind. “Promise you’ll come back to me,” he’d begged.
I vowed that I would, though even as I spoke those very words, I wasn’t sure such a promise would ever be realized. London offered nothing but the saddest of memories, the deepest pain.
The future beckoned.
With no business dealings to keep me occupied, having left Marcus to initiate the transformation of Belshazzar’s, my time became wrapped up in Sunaria and she loved the attention.
Settling into a modestly decorated, isolated chateau overlooking the ocean, we took our time to acclimate.
Before we ventured into the heart of the country, we wanted to get a feel for the societal changes that had unfolded since our departure.
Taking our time, we gauged the mood of the people, researching how far they’d advanced with their knowledge of the undead.
Catholics were known to burn the accused, whether they had proof of a sin or not.
With our affected accents, we’d stand out.
A foreigner with a strange inflection could alarm even the most passive of villagers.
Not that the thought of a man chasing me with a burning torch made me nervous.
The disruption to my evening would be more of an annoyance.
Not so for Sunaria, who – until I persuaded her otherwise – had insisted that we sleep in coffins again for the first three weeks upon our arrival.
Discreetly, we tried to ascertain how many nightwalkers were in the province, those who slept by day and withdrew at sunset, eager to play all night. We wanted to keep a low profile.
After an entire night of seeking out new pleasures with Sunaria, we returned to the chateau. Sunaria had teased me all evening. We made it home with an hour to spare before sunrise.
I had my revenge before the fireplace in the great hall.
After wrestling with each other, each vying for control, I managed to restrain her, binding both her hands behind her with a silk sash that I’d found. She lay prone, perfectly vulnerable on the silken rug.
Starting at her ankles, I planted kisses there and then moved to her calves, along her thighs, lingering a moment to nestle near her belly button, my tongue probing, and then sliding to her breasts, suckling on each hard nipple, driving her into a frenzy, her well- deserved punishment, giving her no choice but to submit.
With a firm touch and masterful strokes, I took her to the edge of pleasure, suspending her there, before pulling her back, leaving her wanting. Sunaria’s cries echoed around us.
I left her lying there, unsated, exposed, and desperate for me to finish, her hands still secured, her movement restricted. She could escape if she really wanted to – she had the strength of the darkest goddess. Her choice to remain bound was proof I had tamed her.
I withdrew from the house, strolling along the neglected pathway, hoping to free my mind while all the time imprisoning Sunaria’s.
The sea air stung my nostrils and the cool air cleared my mind. Over the grassy bank, waves buffeted the golden shoreline. The swell of the sea moved in a continuous rhythm, inducing a soporific sensation. Foam sprayed up onto the beach and several birds flew along the horizon.
Perhaps coming home to Spain was one of my better decisions.
After several minutes of contemplation, I returned to the house.
Sunaria’s turquoise gaze begged me to resume. Fully aroused, I wondered how long I could just stand over her, full of desire.
I held back.
Before me lay the darkest temptation, flawless curves, and erect nipples rising and falling with each short breath, the smallest waist and long legs with thighs slightly parted.
Delaying the inevitability of such sensuous intoxication evoked an exquisite frisson through my body, denying myself that which I desired the most.
Pleasure before the pleasure.
Outside the wind howled as though jealous of the lovers inside who tumbled daringly close to the hearth. Sunaria’s head fell back and her tussled locks cascaded over her flushed face.
Daylight loomed.
Emboldened by lust, my rhythmic thrusts continued regardless, and she lay beneath me, arching her back.
I curled my left arm around her waist, supporting myself with the other.
Heightened to the point of ecstasy again, I allowed her to take me with her, as her nails clawed at my back and the delectable sensations intermingled.
Shuddering, trying to catch my breath, I felt an intense euphoria. “You’re my everything,” I whispered as I came.
The crackle of the fire in the hearth and the crashing waves of the ocean lulled us.
This was the longest that I’d ever held her gaze. “Do you miss London?”
She let out a tiny sigh. “What does London have that Spain doesn’t?”
“Endless rain.”
Sunaria’s laughter rippled through the air, and then her expression became serious.
“Why do you refuse to talk about the past?” she asked.
“Some memories, I choose to forget.”
“The pain fades,” she whispered.
“What if I don’t want it to?”
A soft smile curled her lips. “So you hold onto the pain and forget the cause?”
“Whatever it takes.”
“To survive eternity?”
“To exist.” I smiled back at her.
Sunaria rose and pulled my black cloak around her shoulders. “I don’t have your thrill for danger.” She pointed at the window and headed for the door.
Propping myself up on both elbows, I glimpsed the ocean. The sun threatened to cast its colors across its surface. I jumped up and dressed.
Then I froze when I glanced at the maple table nearby.
An envelope lay on top. I ripped open the seal. We’d been summoned to a local vampire coven.
Apparently, Sunaria and I resided in the very center of a lair.
We ignored the dubious invitation, enjoying our own company instead, preferring to visit old haunts, and finally put old ghosts to rest.
We traveled to Nuevo Portil by carriage. Years had changed the city, and the population had increased. Having ridden along this pathway several times in the past, we now saw many new homes and structures. The Ocean View Manor was no longer there.
Close by, we found a well-tended churchyard.
It took us very little time to find Alicia’s grave.
Ricardo, her son, had been buried next to her.
Their tombstones were the only mark of their lives, and I felt regret for leaving her.
We found no grave with Miranda’s name on it, and this made me smile.
She’d probably searched out another nightwalker and persuaded them to transform her.
Sunaria left me kneeling before Alicia’s tombstone, and I tried to convey feelings that I no longer felt, honoring my sister with my fondest memories of her.
Alicia would have wondered what had happened to us.
I’d written to her but had never gone through with sending the missives I’d penned.
I hoped the rest of her life had been easier.
Shaking off the melancholy, I rejoined Sunaria. She was lounging upon an old grey mausoleum, and with her black locks dangling over the side, she resembled a dark goddess, here to guide the newly deceased, not into heaven and not even to hell, but somewhere else, somewhere forbidden.
Hearing my approach, she slid off the monument and we strolled through the graveyard. I looked forward to sharing new luscious delights with her, an array of thrills.
She stared up at me with a glint of something indeterminable in her expression and her hand took mine. I felt her slide something onto my ring finger. I gazed down at the gold band.
“My mark of ownership.” Her voice was low, sultry.
I felt that familiar craving capturing me, as her words lingered. Only in silence could the sensations be best appreciated.
“Are we married now?” I thought to ask.
“Let’s see where eternity takes us,” she said, and then dashed ahead with laughter.
It was a joy to see the once-stoic woman finally playful and radiant with happiness.