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“I love you so much,” she whispers.
“I love you, too,” I rasp. “I’ve wanted you from the moment we met, and now you’re mine. Say it.”
“I’m yours. I’m all yours. I’llalwaysbe yours.”
My fangs extend as they always do when I approach orgasm. She gasps at the sight of them but doesn’t scream. She kisses me, caressing the edges of my fangs with the tip of her tongue. She can’t know what it means to me that she would embrace the most ferocious parts of me with the softest parts of herself.
The level of trust alone is almost enough to get my still heart pounding again.
I drive into her, pumping steadily. I want her to come. I want to feel her spasm around me, hear the sounds she makes as she breaks apart in my arms. I want my cock to be the reason her toes curl, the thing that makes her eyes roll back inside her head.
Her orgasm swells in my own body, like we’re the same person.
I touch my lips to her throat. She senses my desire to taste her, as I would any lover, and fills my head with a sense of rightness, of permission.
She gasps as my fangs pierce her skin at the moment her pleasure starts to crest. She’s beyond delicious. I draw from her, just enough to fill my mouth, and the pleasure I gain from the intimate exchange radiates outward, into her, and back, like a current. I push into her, hard. Harder than I have any right to, and she meets me, thrust for thrust.
We crescendo together, straining and releasing. Grasping and holding.
I refuse to pull out, even when it’s over. I don’t want to lose this feeling of being buried inside the girl I love. This is the closest I’ve come to feeling anywhere close to home, which is something I never expected to feel inside these walls.
Mariah runs her hands up and down my back.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I lift my head to look at her. “For what?”
“Not treating me like glass.”
I kiss her. She licks her own blood from her lips with a curious expression.
“You know,” she says, “blood actually goes kind of well with red velvet cake.”
I’m suddenly reminded what today is—or was. I check the clock on the nightstand. It’s a little after one in the morning.
“Happy belated birthday,” I tell her. “I'm sorry I wasn't able to get you a present."
"You mean, besides the two orgasms and my family's ancestral estate that will probably be left to me, as my father's sole living heir?"
“Besides all that, yes.” I eye her with interest. “Two orgasms?”
She bites her smiling lips. “Like I said, the first time wasn’t all bad.”
I shake my head in amazement. My inner demon has finally met his match.
"I'm sorry you weren't able to get revenge on my father,” she says. “I guess the important thing is that he’s dead, but I’m sure you wanted to be the one to kill him. What was that stuff he sprayed in your face?”
“Colloidal silver. It’s like mace for vampires.” I stroke her flushed cheek. “I would’ve liked to have killed Edward with my own fangs, but what I have in front of me is more important and more precious than revenge. Doubting my love for you is my greatest regret. More than placing my trust in your father. I was convinced I would kill you if given the chance. I should’ve trusted us. Trusted myself, with you.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I could’ve freed you sooner.”
“Everything happened as it was meant to,” I tell her.
Katherine must’ve been mistaken. I could never harm Mariah. I begin to move inside her again, and she moans, opening for me, her body already a slave to its adoring master. In all my five hundred years, I’ve never known a woman I didn’t think I could eventually say goodbye to.
Trying to imagine a future without Mariah is like picturing a sunset sapped of color.
Before Mariah, all I knew was pain and rage and darkness. Then she appeared on the horizon, more beautiful than sunlight. She was a burst of fire across my charcoal sky.
