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“Harder, faster . . . please . . . I need you to fuck me hard.”
I went to work, driving in and out, pressing my breasts against hers as I slid my arm beneath her shoulders, holding her close to my body. Her hips ground against my thrusts, and then she suddenly stiffened and cried out and I slid my thumb up to once again flick her clit and she screamed again, fol owed by a short, sharp burst of laughter as she crumbled into the orgasm.
A moment later, when she could breathe again, Nerissa sat up. She was glowing, vibrant, and she turned to me. “Now, my love, let me see how loud I can make you scream.”
And I, the wil ing lamb, put myself in her hands.
After we were both satiated, I leaned back in her arms, curled on the sofa with the afghan lightly tossed over us. The snow was stil fal ing outside and we were in for a cold morning. I pressed my head against her heart as she embraced me and sighed with contentment.
“Hey,” I said after a moment. “What about you move in here, with us? I can’t have you in my lair, but suppose we fix up a room for you out in the studio? Camil e and Delilah won’t mind, and that way we could be together as much as possible.”
She brushed one of my braids back from my face. “Oh, sweetness, I thank you for that, but I think I need my own place. I’ve always lived in a compound, always lived by others’ rules, and I need a space that is mine alone. At least as far as setting the rules and decorating . . .” With a smal sigh, she added, “It’s not that I don’t love you or want to be with you, but . . .”
“But you need your lair, just like I have mine.” I gazed up at her. “I get it.” And I did. Nerissa needed to stretch her wings and see how far she could fly sans the Pride. I was along for the ride, so I wasn’t going to complain about her wanting a space that she could mark as her own territory.
“I do have something I want to ask you, though. We’ve been together what . . . almost a year?”
She tenderly trailed her hand down my arm.
I nodded. “Yeah, about that.”
“What say we turn these promise rings into something a bit more . . . official? I don’t think either one of us is ready for marriage, but let’s have a promise ceremony. Give it another year and a day and see where we’re at? Maybe by then I’l be ready to move in. Maybe by then the demons wil have broken through. Maybe by then . . . who knows?” She sat up abruptly, and I had no choice but to sit up with her. “Let’s do it. Something smal —for family and close friends only?”
I stared at her. I’d given up ever thinking to promise myself to someone. Marriage, a family, even something like a promise ceremony had seemed out of reach once I had been turned. We’d given each other rings, but that had been that, I thought.
Now . . . was I wil ing to honor a year and a day? Was I ready to commit to a specified length of time? Of course, if it got bad, we’d go our separate ways, but this was a test. A test to see if I was ready for more than just lip service.
I took her hand, kissed the ring on her finger. “Nerissa, you are the only one in the world that I would say yes to. Yes—let’s have a promise ceremony. I have no idea what the future wil be like, or if there wil even be a future, but yes.” And with that, we were off making plans, until the approaching dawn drove me down into my lair, into satisfied slumber.
CHAPTER 12
The next night, Nerissa was there when I woke up. She’d gone during the day to apply for the position with Chase, and he’d hired her on the spot. We celebrated and—during the early dinner Iris had fixed—sprang the news of our promise ceremony. We opted to hold it on the Vernal Equinox, during the spring festival of new growth, when life springs forth from the soil and the balance of the year once again hangs forefront. This would give us enough time to find outfits and real y hammer out what this meant for us. Nerissa would be in her new condo by then and we could spend time truly alone.
Camil e had immediately launched into a fashion discussion with Nerissa about dresses and makeup, while Delilah used the news as an excuse to talk Iris into making cookies, even though I couldn’t eat any.
Iris stopped by my chair—I’d vacated my usual place near the ceiling for once—and gave me a tight hug. “Menol y, you deserve this. You deserve so much, and she’s a wonderful woman.”
Touched, I squeezed her hand gently, then let go as she headed over to the stove. Tril ian rushed to help her put dinner on the table—they were having fried chicken and mashed potatoes.
Morio winked at me. “Taking the plunge, are you? About time.”
I shook my head at him. “We aren’t getting married, dude, but thanks. And I’m happy about it.
She’s my girl, she is.”
Nerissa giggled and blew me a kiss. “I’d better be your only girl.”
“No doubt about that.”
As Tril ian passed by with a tray of food, I moved out of the way. The smel of food had been torture until Morio had come up with the enchanted blood for me, but it stil wasn’t easy.
Morio motioned toward the fridge. “Bottle of chicken soup-flavored blood in the refrigerator, and one that tastes like rhubarb pie.”
I cocked my head. “Weird mix, but sounds good.” I wasn’t going to complain; anything was better than the taste—day after day—of blood.
As I contemplated floating up toward the ceiling, it occurred to me that first, I should cal Tavah at the bar to ask how Erin was doing. The phone rang at that moment and Delilah answered. She turned around, hand over the mouthpiece.
“Tavah.”
