Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Alaric still sat on the couch, regarding the door with a furrowed brow.
“I’m not sure if that was helpful or more confusing,” Roz said.
“She is an interesting woman,” Alaric said. Roz sat back down on the couch, turning to face Alaric.
“She’s right, I should have gone to her first. She knows more about fringe magic than my mom does.” Roz sighed.
“Why did you ask about tethering influencing emotions?” Alaric asked. Roz’s cheeks flushed and she averted her gaze.
“I just wanted to make sure that by tethering you I wasn’t…altering anything,” she said evasively.
“Like what?” Alaric pressed.
“You said you enjoyed my company, and I feel like we’re old friends. I wanted to make sure that wasn’t being influenced by anything,” Roz explained, digging at a hangnail on her pinky.
“And you suspect my affection for you is because of this tether, and therefore not real?” Alaric asked.
“I just wanted to be sure. We don’t understand this curse, and I don’t want to make it worse.
If the blood kept you here against your will, I’d never forgive myself.
If the tethering altered either of our emotions, that could be catastrophic.
I just don’t want to stand between you and happiness,” Roz said, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them.
Her brain was slower to catch up—he’d said my affection for you.
That was probably some old-timey saying for friendship.
“I am not so easily influenced,” Alaric said with a shrug. “My feelings are as they were before you tethered me. I am only all the more grateful that you’ve given me the ability to speak to someone.”
“Just me,” Roz added.
“For now,” Alaric remarked.
“Now what?” Roz asked, gazing over the useless pile of books.
“An experiment,” Alaric suggested, sitting upright.
“Are you sure? What if…”
“What if I die?” Alaric asked wryly.
“There are things worse than death,” Roz said.
“Oh, I know. I’ve experienced it these last three hundred years. Humor me. We’ll start small, a drop of blood is all,” Alaric suggested.
Roz nodded and went to the kitchen, digging around until she found a safety pin.
She brought it back into the living room and lit one of her candles, holding the metal to the flame until it burned hot.
“I used to pierce my friends’ ears in French class,” she remarked with a grin.
She held the pin until it was cool and pressed the tip into the pad of her thumb. A small bead of blood appeared.
“What next? Do I feed it to you?” she asked.
“As much as I would enjoy that, I am no vampire,” Alaric remarked. He held out his hand to her, palm up. Roz squeezed her thumb until two droplets of blood dripped onto his palm.
The first went through him and onto her couch.
The second stayed in his palm, suspended in his translucent hand. They both stared at it, Roz’s wide eyes meeting the smug look on Alaric’s face. “Well,” he said. “Have you fallen irrevocably in love with me?”
“What? No!” Roz protested.
“Pity,” he said. “And here I was hoping to be proven wrong.”
Another drop of blood fell from Roz’s thumb onto his palm. Roz reached out to tentatively touch Alaric’s leg, her fingers brushing against the thick material of his robe. “Oh good,” she said airily. “I was worried I’d have to do that to all your body parts.”
“I’d prioritize one or two, in that case,” he said.
“Be serious,” Roz chastised.
“I am.” Alaric moved his hand from side to side, the tiny drops of blood swaying in his palm.
They didn’t disperse like they would into real skin, they just sat there, like atop a glass table.
“Another test,” Alaric said. He held his hand over hers, tilting it so her blood dropped onto her skin.
He then reached for her, his fingers brushing a strand of black hair behind her ear.
It moved, and his touch was so concrete, so real.
“So, no blood lockets like Angelina and Billy,” Roz said.
“Who?”
“Celebrities. How long do you think it will last?” Roz asked. Alaric’s hand was still at her temple, his fingers gently brushing against her skin rhythmically. She resisted the urge to nuzzle into his hand.
“Another experiment,” he said, his voice quiet and low. “I’ll just have to touch you every day.”
Roz’s lower abdomen tightened and she had to shift her weight to displace the feeling. The seam of her jeans dug into her clit as she moved, which only amplified the feeling.
Alaric pulled her face to his, his lips a breath from hers. “Rosalin,” he said softly.
“Yes?”
“May I kiss you?”
She answered by pressing her lips against his, hoping she didn’t fall through him.
Alaric groaned when they made contact, an indecent noise that sparked another wave of fire in Roz.
Her fingers curled in his robe, pulling him closer.
His kisses were the ravenous kisses of a man who couldn’t get enough.
He left her lips for her jaw, his teeth grazing her skin as he nipped gently. Roz cried out and he stopped suddenly, pulling back.
“I’m sorry,” he said, straightening. “I just…”
Absolutely the fuck not, thought Roz. She tightened her grip on his robe and pulled him toward her.
Alaric was on her once more, his mouth on hers, his body flush against her.
He pulled her onto his lap without breaking the kiss, her knees on either side of his hips.
She ground onto him and he moaned when she met his hardness.
He cupped her ass, pulling her closer. She sunk into him, matching the ferocity of his need with her own. His mouth moved to her neck and collarbone, kissing and biting in equal measure. Can ghosts leave a hickey? She didn’t give a shit.
His hands moved from her ass to the bottom of her shirt, his cold palms trailing across her stomach. He guided her shirt upward and over her head, tossing it somewhere else in the room. Alaric tried for her bra, mumbling something about modern inventions under his breath.
“I got it,” she said, reaching behind to undo the clasp. The material slid off her shoulders and she was naked from the waist up, her large breasts at eye level. Alaric’s face was one of worship as he gazed up at her, his mouth partially open.
“You’re exquisite,” he said.
Roz didn’t know what to say to that. No man had ever called her exquisite.
Most men her age didn’t have the vocabulary, anyway.
Alaric was reverent as he touched her, his movements a contrast to the feral way he moved before.
He took a nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the surface.
Roz’s hand grasped the back of his head, pulling him to her.
He alternated between each nipple, lavishing them with bites and sucks.
Roz’s head tilted back, her hips moving against him with abandon.
Then his hands moved to the button of her jeans, then her zipper. “Stand up,” he said, his voice low and husky.
Roz stood before him, her chest heaving. He pulled her jeans off her hips, then down her legs. She stood before him in just her underwear, which was currently soaked with her arousal.
“I want to taste you,” he said.
“I want to see you,” she breathed. She’d been dying to know what he looked like under that disgusting robe. Could he take it off? She hoped to the goddess he could, otherwise she was going to lose it.
“Another test,” he said, standing before her. She took a step back, nearly knocking into the coffee table.
“My room,” she said. Alaric nodded and followed her into her room, shutting the door behind him. Roz sat on the edge of her bed, her head tilted back to look up at him. He grabbed at his robe, pausing just before he lifted it.
“Here,” Roz said, standing. She placed her hand over his, guiding him as he pulled the robe off. It was a clumsy endeavor; the robe was thick and crusted with blood. It was off at last, a heap on the floor at Alaric’s feet.
“It worked,” he said, staring at the fabric.
“You’ve never been able to take it off?”
“No. I’ve tried, believe me. Now…” He trailed off, his gaze returning to Roz. He wore a tunic, also crusted with blood and dirt, and long shorts. He pulled them off quickly and was naked before her.
Roz didn’t know where to look first. She could tell he did manual labor before he died; he was broad with a thick waist and lean, practical muscles.
Her gaze snagged on the bruises along his body, especially his ribs.
She reached out to touch them and he grabbed her hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss.
“I don’t feel any of it anymore,” he said.
“You swear?”
“I’d never lie to you,” he said, his kiss moving up her palm to her wrist. She shivered, both from his words and the cool press of his lips. “Get on the bed,” he said.
Roz climbed on it, her gaze following the dusting of hair along his lower abdomen, trailing lower and lower. His cock was thick, just like Roz liked, and her mouth watered at the thought of him inside her.
“Let me see you,” he said. She leaned back on her elbows, spreading her legs to show her panty-covered pussy. She slowly pulled it off, tossing it to the side, her knees falling open to him. There was that reverent look again, like he was the luckiest man in the world.
Alaric climbed onto the bed next to her, guiding her back onto his lap. She reached for him to guide to her opening, but he stopped her. “I told you I wanted to taste you,” he said, settling onto his back. He gripped behind her thighs, dragging her to his face.
“Are you...?” Roz started. He answered by pulling her harder, no longer asking.
She straddled his face, gripping her headboard when his tongue flicked across her clit.
It was quick, a fleeting flick before he drew along the length of her.
He probed her entrance with his tongue, tasting her.
His moan vibrated through her body and her nails dug into the headboard.
Alaric was very, very good at this. One hand gripped her ass cheek, pulling her tight against his face. The other slipped two fingers inside her, thrusting to keep up with her as she rocked on his face.
His lips circled her clit and sucked, and that was all it took to send her over.
She cried out, her hips still but her body vibrating as she came hard and fast. Alaric slowed with his mouth, his fingers still inside her.
She collapsed onto the bed next to him, her chest heaving.
He brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked her from them, humming his satisfaction.
“That was amazing,” Roz breathed.
“I’m not done,” he said. Roz’s eyes widened as he sat up, his gaze raking across her naked flesh.
He moved between her thighs, pushing her knees up to lift her lower body.
He set a pillow under her low back, tilting her hips up to him.
The head of his cock teased her entrance, sliding between her lips in a painfully slow process.
“How do you like it?” he asked.
“I…” Roz started, fumbling for words. The corner of his mouth turned up in a devious half-smile as he slid his head into her. He moved slow, his thick cock stretching her pussy in the most pleasurable way.
“Like this?” he asked, sliding half into her, half out in slow, steady motions. She shook her head.
“This?” he asked, going deeper now, burying himself in her with the same slow, steady motions. She sucked in a breath as he entered her fully, the pillow giving him deeper access than she’d ever felt before.
She nodded.
“I can’t hear you,” he said.
“Yes,” she gasped out.
He moved faster now, his strokes still deep. “How about this?”
“Goddess, yes!” she called out, every deep thrust sending her closer to the edge. When he pressed his thumb onto her clit she arched her back, her second orgasm hitting her hard and long. Each thrust carried her on another wave, her pussy clamping down on him.
“That’s right, come undone for me,” he growled, his thrusts faster now. Roz did, each thrust carrying her further and further into her ecstasy. She was just coming down when Alaric thrust for the last time, his cock deep inside her. He stayed like that for several moments before sliding from her.
“You are exquisite,” he said again. Roz smiled deliriously, curling into his chest as he lay next to her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.
The last thought Roz had before drifting off was Do ghosts have viable sperm?