Chapter 22 Family Ties #2
Threads of fate? My heart leaps at the very idea. “That’s almost kind of romantic.”
“Isn’t it?” He lifts himself so his lips graze softly against mine. Finally, I let my hands wander, sliding each digit languidly from his shoulders to his abdomen.
“Millie,” he hisses my name.
“I want to feel you,” I confess. He had all the control before—now it’s my turn.
I reach down in search of the zipper on his pants.
He’s hard, which admittedly makes me extra hot.
Since the fabric is already pulled tight against him, the zipper comes undone with relative ease.
The soft head of his cock pushes through the opening, and I take it in one hand.
I lean back into him for a kiss, meeting his eager lips with the same need.
His skin is so soft, I think, stroking his length. He’s thick, too.
Mimicking my actions below, I stroke the inside of his mouth with my tongue, paying extra special attention to his fangs.
He thrusts up with his hips in reply, eliciting the most gratifying moan I’ve ever heard.
The sound of it makes my heart race and the butterflies in my stomach dance.
There’s nothing more compelling than a man moaning, except to hear him whimper when he comes.
As if it is the most basic instinct I have left, I want to draw that out of him the way he draws blood from me.
“Ahem!” someone says loudly, followed by a light tap to my shoulder.
I pull away from Gray, mortified. To our right is a young man dressed in a finely pressed suit.
He looks out of place here, too pristine for a club scene.
Then again, I do have Gray’s hard cock sandwiched between my hand and my own heat.
The situation is pretty risque, no matter what angle you’re looking at us.
“Would you two please follow me?” the gentleman shouts above the music.
I glance back at Gray. He’s blissed out, heavy-lidded and unfocused. His attention drifts from me to the gentleman beside us. Nothing in his expression changes. He simply leans forward, grasping my wrist, and whispers in my ear.
“Business first, sweet cheeks,” he says as he tucks his cock back in his pants. “We can finish this up later.”
With practiced ease, Gray slips me from his lap and adjusts my skewed dress in the process.
He stands grinning at our uninvited guest, and zips himself.
With a slight smile, he gestures for the man to lead on.
As we walk away from the party, I can’t stop myself from swooning over the intensity of our make-out session.
Despite the interruption, I can still feel that buzzing sensation under my skin.
“This way,” the gentleman says as we reach a set of stairs. It’s quieter this way, but not by much. I can hear him clearer, and see him better, too. He’s young, maybe my age, but I can’t tell if he’s a vampire or not.
“Where are we going?” I ask no one in particular.
“My cousin,” Gray says, but the other gentleman answers at the same time, “The Mastrum of the House.”
My eyes bug out. “Excuse me? Cousin?”
We reach the top of the second landing, and the music has all but faded to a muted bump.
The lighting is normal, a little dimmer through the hallways, but I can actually see how old and well-maintained the place is.
I was right about it feeling like a mansion out of a period drama.
Marble statues grace the corners, oil paintings adorn the walls, and exotic plants sit on decorative tables.
Antiquated rugs cushion our footfalls every few steps, and when I look down, I see their ornate patterns give way to beautiful wood flooring.
This place reeks of old money.
“Wait here, please.” The gentleman stops beside an open door. “They’ll be along momentarily.”
“Uh, thanks?” I say to our guide. He simply nods my way.
We both head inside the room, which is as plush and richly decorated as the rest of the house.
One wall is lined with heavy bookcases, while the center has a sitting area with couches and armchairs.
A fireplace is to our right, with the grandest hearth I’ve ever seen.
It’s hard to believe there’s a rave going on just one floor below us.
Gray meanders toward one of the bookcases, idly picking at the titles. I make my way over to one of the couches and sit.
“Okay, no more mysteries. What did you mean earlier when you said this was home?” I ask, feeling more than a little out of place.
“Exactly what it means,” he says. “This was where I used to live, before I was taken to the church tower.”
My mouth falls open. “You lived here?”
“I did”—he zips over to where I’m sitting and falls back into the cushions—“with my cousin. Though, to be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure they would still be here after all these years.”
I turn at the waist and jab a finger at his chest. “I’m going to need you to be a little less cryptic, and way more detailed with your answers. You lived here? You have a cousin? Why the hell are we even here?”
“We came to ask for help.” A pale hand curls around mine, drawing it from his chest to his lips. His eyes are a sea of bright crimson, two pools of freshly spilled blood, reflecting the golden shimmer of the fire lighting the room.
“What kind of help?” I watch, feverish with want, as he kisses my open palm, then my bare wrist. “We couldn’t possibly be here for advice on interior decorating.”
He smirks. “Very funny.”
“So, then what?” I try to focus on my breathing and not on his lips.
“I thought it might be useful to learn how to fight a vampire,” he says, curling my hand to kiss my knuckles, “from a vampire.”
“What?” I ask just as the door swings open, slamming hard against the opposite wall. Startled by the sound of it, I fall to the side and into Gray’s chest. His laughter precedes the entrance of the biggest man I have quite possibly ever seen in my entire life.
“I’ll be damned,” says the man at the door.
Holy shit. My brain short circuits. “He’s your cousin?”
“They,” says the vampire at the door. "I like fluidity. Always have."
It's hard to believe they're cousins. Tannis is muscle stacked on muscle, and beautiful in every way imaginable, right dwon to their square jaw and bowed lips. It’s as if one of the marble statues of Adonis in the hallway came to life. Their skin is golden and unreasonably thick, and their chest is oiled, dappled with blacklight paint and glitter. They’re shirtless, wearing only a pair of white leather pants and electric blue boots.
The ensemble is perfect for the party downstairs, but totally out of place in this antique study.
“Look what the cat dragged in!” Tannis exclaims, blurring from the door to the center of the room with that same, incredibly inhuman speed. “Come here, cousin!”
Gray gently untangles himself from me and stands, embracing them.
It’s brief, but meaningful. When they come apart, Gray is covered in oil and glitter, but he’s clearly happy.
I didn’t see the immediate resemblance, but now that they’re standing closer together, it’s obvious that they’re related.
Gray is slighter, lithe, but they almost carry themselves in the same way.
Their noses, the shape of their eyes, and even the upside down curve of their smiles are a mirror of the other.
“Where have you been the last century?” asks the buff blonde. Up close, I can see how unbelievably handsome our host is.
Like a Roman God or something, I think, appraising their long golden curls, square jaw, and regal nose. Dimples grace their cheeks as they beam at Gray.
“Desiccating in a church tower.”
A look of pure horror crosses Tannis’s face. “A church? You must be joking. Of all the places, I never thought to look inside a church. How did you escape?”
Gray turns to me and holds out a hand. “Millie saved me.”
“I mostly just tripped over him,” I say, only a little nervous.
Tannis shifts their gaze to me and I suddenly feel the full weight of their attention.
“Millie.” Without warning, Tannis pulls me up from the couch with a delighted look on their face and says, “So she’s the little minx you were fingering on my dancefloor!”