Darkfell vampire clan bo.., p.22
Darkfell Vampire Clan Boxset, page 22
I slipped on the lingerie, noting how the straps hugged me in just the right places, and the bra, for once, was actually comfortable. I was admiring the way the lace followed the curve of my ass when I realized two things.
Deston—or a minion—picked these out for me.
They fit perfectly.
I didn’t know whether to be impressed or mad.
But just replaying the sexy grin on Cyrus’s face gave me the courage to fluff up my hair and open the door.
He was still in the same spot, eyes fixed on me like I was a tasty snack.
Just thinking of him at my throat, his cock pumping into me… his dirty, dirty mouth. God, my feet seemed to move by themselves. The next thing I knew, I was inches away from him, his fingers tracing the strap that echoed the curve of my breast.
“I like this,” he whispered, inching closer on the bed. Both hands on my hips, he pulled me to his mouth, teeth gently closing over my nipple. “A lot.”
I bit back a moan. Luthor was right there, fast asleep, and I didn’t want to wake him.
“Louder, Fina.” This time, Cyrus bit down, the spark of pain causing me to moan again and tangle my hands in his hair. “I want to fucking hear you moan louder.” One hand slid between my legs, dove up through the slit in the crotch of the panties, and his finger plunged into me.
My knees almost went out, and I vaguely thought I’d better sit down. Cyrus lifted me from the floor and sat me on him, my knees straddling his hips, his finger going in and out at a maddening slow pace. Luthor still looked asleep, and I bit my lip to keep from making noise.
This was so weird, yet I could have pulled away.
I could have gotten up, and I didn’t.
I wanted his fingers in me. I wanted… damn it, I wanted both of them, Luthor and Cyrus, together. I wanted to know what it felt like to be pressed between them, to be aware of nothing except their mouths, licking and biting and…
Another low moan burst from me, and I bore down on those fingers—two, now—that were turning my body into a tightly strung instrument.
The bed dipped, and Luthor reached out and cupped his hand behind my head, pulling me down to his mouth. I let him devour me, bracing my head to accommodate his probing tongue, one hand braced on Cyrus’s chest, my elbow planted on the pillow beside Luthor’s head.
My body turned into little more than pure sensation—this coiling tautness that made me want to fuck them both or have them fuck me. Cyrus shifted and, in one quick move, impaled me, his cock sliding in deep, my knees bumping up off the bed as he thrust into me.
Luthor never stopped kissing me, one hand flicking my nipple, while Cyrus’s mouth closed over my other one, his tongue flicking back and forth over the hard nub. This was serious sensory overload.
It was like my body didn’t even know what to do with everything that was happening.
Should I come? Should I scream?
In the end, I did both as my climax shattered through me, and I cursed into Luthor’s mouth, my body shaking. My mind went blank for a second when Luthor grasped me around the waist, pulled me off Cyrus and laid me on my back, lifting my hands over my head, encircling both wrists with one huge hand.
He covered me, pressing my legs out as he pushed in, deeper and deeper, stretching me wide.
Cyrus nibbled up my throat, his lips deliciously soft, and I turned my head to give him better access. “Bite me, Cyrus.” I wanted him to drink from me, while Luthor slowly fucked me, pinned to the bed. I wanted my blood to be inside of him, while Luthor was inside of me.
None of it made sense, but my body demanded this trade between the three of us.
Cyrus’s fangs were even longer than Luthor’s, slightly curved and dangerous looking. Before I could have second thoughts, he bit down, his teeth sinking in deep.
All I could do was ride out the sensations, Cyrus suckling at my throat, Luthor pounding into me as I broke apart, over and over again.
I was still shuddering, little aftershocks still rippling through me when Luthor came with short, hard thrusts, filling me up as he clutched me tightly against him. He fell on his back, arms splayed out wide. I ran a hand across his chest, all that tight, firm muscle.
He tasted salty as I ran my tongue along his neck, then my fangs, delighted when his great body shuddered.
One move and my fangs punched through his skin, his groan echoing through the huge room. He tasted so rich, so decadent, like a finely aged wine. I drank and drank while Cyrus smoothed his hands up and down my body, kneading and massaging, soothing away all my cares.
I sealed up Luthor and rolled a laughing Cyrus onto his back, licking and nipping until my teeth were in him. His blood filled my mouth, his scent my nose.
Luthor came up behind me and popped my hips off the bed, then pushed his thigh between my knees, widening my stance until I was completely bare to him.
He swiped a finger through my pussy, then I felt the press of his cock, huge against my swollen folds.
He gripped my shoulders and took me in one long, deep plunge, his balls slapping against me while he fucked me. Cyrus held me tight to his throat, groaning as I drank, and I reached out and found his cock, running my hand up and down the hard length of it.
He came while I was still drinking, his body jerking beneath me, hot blood trickling down my chin as I raised my head and roared as Luthor drove me over the edge, one last time.
The pounding woke me, a dull thudding that I realized came from the door.
“Cousin. I have a request, if you can stop baise notre reine assez longtemps pour listen.”
I didn’t know what Deston said, but when Cyrus strolled buck naked to give him an answer, I couldn’t help but admire his backside. He murmured something profane through the door, then I barely heard Deston’s mumbled response.
“Deston requests you meet him in the strolling garden in half an hour.” Even Cy couldn’t keep a straight face when he said strolling garden, as if it was some euphemism for dandyism.
“It will be a cold day in hell when I stroll anywhere with that asshole.”
“I hate to say this, but we need Deston.” Luthor pressed a tender kiss to my shoulder. “He’s valuable in ways you don’t yet understand.”
“I know we don’t need an antisocial vampire with anger issues,” I countered. “We need someone trustworthy. Levelheaded.”
“Deston has trained the last three Queens. Taught them to master their magic, to wield it.”
Well, okay then. If he could actually help me…
What was the harm in spending a few days here while we regrouped, ate, fucked? I mean, it was clear Deston intended to use me, so why shouldn’t I use him right back?
Maybe it was time to start putting my book-learned, court-maneuvering repertoire to work.
See? I knew a little French, too.
“Fine. I’ll talk to him, but I want both of you with me when I do.”
38
SERAPHINA
Deston was waiting for me by the folly, this time in a blue velvet jacket that looked like the night sky, complimented with another of Elvis’s shirts.
His silver topped cane completed the look, which was more Dark Shadows than Interview with the Vampire.
“Nice folly.” My gaze traveled up the tumbled stones, the half-fallen wall, to the sculpture at the top, the girl’s face staring blankly out, past the castle.
“That is Selene, the Moon goddess.” At my confused look, he prompted, “Ambrogio and Selene? The first vampire and his amante?”
I shook my head, and Deston looked over at Luthor and Cyrus.
“What ever have you been teaching her? This is one of our classics, and there is no way she’s grown to adulthood without learning our past.”
“They didn’t teach that in middle school. Or high school. Or Tulane University, I’m afraid,” I told him dryly, the heavy smell of roses almost smothering.
“She was raised human,” Luthor explained quietly. “Up until a week ago, she didn’t know anything about our world.”
From the look on Deston’s face, I would have thought I’d shit on his shoe. Comical, even under these circumstances.
“Yes, I am a mere human, oh bastion to immortality and questionable clothing tastes. But I survived Viktor hunting me, his prison, his revenants, and I’ll survive whatever he sends after me next.”
By the time I was finished, my hands were clenched into fists, my power rumbling inside me, boosted by Luthor’s and Cyrus’s blood.
Remembering what happened in the graveyard only ramped up my magic, and small black shadows spurted from my fingers.
“Damn it, this is the most useless power ever.”
I shook out my hand, sending little puffs of darkness everywhere while Deston looked appalled. “I mean, what is this magic even good for if I can’t figure out how to use it?”
“Seraphina.” Deston caught my hand, and my magic was extinguished. The black shadows disappeared. Even my roiling core of power calmed down, feeling more like something quietly waiting than something ready to burst out of me like a baby alien.
“This should never have gotten so far. Quelle honte tu es.” He shot a baleful look over at Luthor and Cyrus, but his eyes were kinder when they found my face. “You were raised by humans, oui?”
I shifted my feet guiltily. “My mom and grandma raised me.” I looked to Luthor, and when he nodded, I went on, “Claire and Isabelle Marvelle. But they thought it would be safer if I thought I was human. I think they both hoped the past would never catch up to us.”
“Mon Dieu, à quoi pensait, Claire?”
“I don’t know what any of that means, but yes, my grandmother was Claire,” I retorted, wishing I’d taken some French in high school. But we’d lived in Ohio then, which was more German and Spanish than French or Latin.
“Parle anglais, ou ne parle pas du tout, Deston,” Cyrus snapped. “She doesn’t speak French, and you know it. Stop showing off.”
“Ou quoi?” Deston leaned his cane against the stone wall. “What are you going to do about it, mon petit ami?”
Before they got to baring their fangs at one another and lunging for throats, I stepped between them. “Look. Up until three days ago, I was a college student living off my student loans and hoping I could pass all my classes. Everything that’s happened since? Vampires and revenants and zombies?”
I waved my hands at the winter roses, the ridiculous folly and castle. “The past days have been one shock after another. I mean, come on. Me? A vampire queen? Try to see this from my point of view. This feels barely real.”
“You expect me to believe Claire Marvelle, lady-in-waiting to a Darkfell Queen, never told you a single thing about our world?”
He had been showing off because his English was perfect.
I held those dark glittering eyes with my own, feeling some invisible battle begin between us, a subtle tug of war between his magic and mine.
“Swear to God. Not one word. Not until one of Viktor’s guards captured me during the Winter Reaping.”
I didn’t so much as blink, my back ramrod straight, hands clenched at my sides.
Deston was the first to drop his gaze as he reached for his cane.
“Then we have a lot of work to do, my Queen.” He swung it up over his shoulder, then looked me over doubtfully, from head to toe.
“Dressing the part comes first. Second, mastering your magic, and whatever that horrible thing was you did with your fingers. Thirdly, you must feed to bolster your power.”
I’d already fed. A lot.
Deston’s mouth curved upwards, into something nobody would ever call a smile.
“You shall feed until I deem you strong enough.” He stepped closer. “You must be strong enough to control your magic instead of allowing it to control you. The only way to do that is to feed.” He quirked an eyebrow at me.
“A lot. Do you have any idea what your magic is?” For the first time, he looked simply curious, instead of cunning.
“I can raise the dead.” Words I thought would never come out of my mouth.
“Interesting.”
“If you call bringing an entire graveyard to life interesting, then yes, that’s what my magic is. I find it horrifying on so many levels, but you do you.”
“Necromancy is a useful magic,” Deston murmured, already back to his old, calculating self. “You can raise soldiers for battle. Spread fear amongst your enemies. Create revenants.”
“Wait, no. That’s Viktor’s thing. He’s the one who creates revenants.”
“Because Viktor is a powerful necromancer. Like you.” He did this little twirl with his hand, as if this was a well-known fact.
“There is no way we both share the same kind of magic.” I shuddered. “I am nothing like Viktor. Especially not magically.” Again, words I never thought I’d say.
Deston simply snapped his fingers. “Now I have something to work with. We shall refine your magic until you can wield it like a sword.”
“What if I can’t?” I argued. “I’ve tried, but I can’t control my magic. I don’t even understand how it works.” I glared up at him, pissed my future was being decided without me.
“I’m a scientist. I understand how science works, and the rules it adheres to. All of this”—I waved my hands in the air, indicating the roses, the humid air, the ridiculous castle—“Defies reality.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you can control your magic, it is in our blood.”
“I’m sure this will come as a huge surprise, but I can’t do it. I didn’t even know there was such a thing as a vampire queen until a week ago. Before that, I wanted to be a hematologist who specializes in leukemia and stem cell research.”
There, chew on that, Mr. I-have-your-future-all-planned-out.
Deston scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I do not understand most of what you say, but I do know this. You are the Darkfell Queen. Nothing changes that, not even what you want. Furthermore, Viktor knows about you, yes?”
I reluctantly nodded.
“He will not stop until you are dead. Or he is. Of course, if you kill him, then… you can go back to your human world and your… stem cell research. Accord?”
Knee-buckling relief flooded through me. Up until now, I’d been careening towards disaster and death.
Of course, in this scenario, I’d have to kill Viktor, but that was a sacrifice I was willing to make. The thought of going back to class and spending my days doing mundane human things seemed like a dream come true.
“We have an accord.”
“That was a joke.” Deston chuckled mockingly. “There is no going back. You are a vampire. Act like one.”
Magic burst out of me like a tidal wave, flattening the grass, tearing roses from their stems, and toppling poor Selene off her pedestal, snapping off her head, where it rolled through the manicured perennial gardens like a bowling ball.
This time, I sent my shadows toward Deston, who batted them away like circling moths.
I stared at my hands, excitement pulsing through me.
I’d controlled the shadows.
Maybe they hadn’t done any harm—like throat punch him—but at least they’d gone in the direction I’d wanted.
Deston jabbed me with his cane. “You will exercise control over your magic at all times. There will be no slips, no failures, no weaknesses. You cannot afford any, not if you expect to survive Viktor.”
Luthor took the cane and snapped it over his knee. “You will address her as my Queen, or if she gives her permission, Seraphina. You will show her the respect she deserves. There will be no slips on your part, either, Deston, or you will not survive me.”
During Luthor’s quiet, yet menacing speech, Cyrus stepped behind me and put his hands over my shoulders. A soothing sense of calm made my tense shoulders relax, the tightness in my belly loosen.
We had each other’s backs.
No matter what.
Deston took one disgusted look at us and his ruined gardens and disappeared.
39
SERAPHINA
That night I lay on my back, one leg thrown over an exhausted Luthor, while Cyrus licked a path down my belly. My very full belly.
“I’m going to make you scream again, Fina.” His tongue delved into my belly button, waking up all sorts of nerve endings. “Once more, then you can sleep.”
After the rumble in the garden, or the malice in the palace, we’d come back here.
Luthor and Cy had stripped me down—actually, we stripped each other—and now I was sated and full and perfectly content. Yet after all that, when Cyrus licked up the center of me, my hips popped off the bed.
Well, maybe just once more wouldn’t hurt anything.
His tongue pressed against my clit, then he sucked it into his mouth, flicking back and forth with his tongue. I jerked slightly with every little nibble, hardly believing I could still be the least bit horny.
This orgasm was slow moving, rolling through me at its own pace, and my mind went blank as my body shuddered, his hands stroking and stroking my legs until I was limp. I went to move my leg, but Luthor wrapped his hand around my thigh to hold me in place.
With a sigh, Cyrus climbed into bed next to me and laid his head next to mine on the pillow.
“You’re worried,” he murmured against my forehead, brushing a thumb over my cheek. “About Deston. About your magic.”
“In my world…” I had to stop thinking of myself as human.
I wasn’t, and I had to keep reminding myself of that fact.
“Yes. I am afraid,” I admitted. “Everyone thinks I’m capable of all these amazing things, when really, I’m just stumbling through life, trying not to die.”
“Aren’t we all.” He laughed softly. “Look, I’m a High Guard with no useful magic. Charm, yes. Magic, no. I overcompensate with my smart mouth and my good looks, but to be honest, to fit in, I had to train for centuries to become one of the best fighters in the clan.”
