Violette Dubrinsky (12 page)

What
didn’t
she know? Victor wondered.

“He said something that made me hit him.”

“About me?” Her hands brushed his chest as she pushed the shirt from him. Folding it, she deposited the material on the chair as well. “Victor?”

“What?” He blinked down at her. Her hands were distracting him.

“Did he say something about me?”

“He’s an idiot.” Victor dismissed Nicholas and his words from his mind, and focused on her. Worry stared out at him from her eyes, so he changed the subject. “You looked beautiful tonight. That dress was made for you.”

“You say that about every dress.”

Azaleigh smirked as she unbuttoned his pants, and undid his zipper. He stepped from them. When she moved to pick those up, Victor pulled her into his arms, running his hands up the backs of her thighs.

“Because every dress looks like it was made for you.” He continued, freezing when his hand touched the bare, smooth skin of her buttocks. To be certain, he moved his fingers to the dip of her back, and grinned at the smoothness he encountered.

“You’re not wearing any panties.”

Burying her face against his chest, Azaleigh squeaked as he lightly slapped a round cheek. “I was waiting for you.”

“I’m not complaining.” In one smooth move, he pulled the T-shirt up, and when she lifted her hands, tossed it across the room. “That’s better.”

Victor led her to the bed, spreading her thighs over the edge and kneeling eagerly before her. All of his anger had disappeared. Seeing her naked made him forget everything but the two of them. His tongue parted the two halves of her wet lips first. He never tired of the heady, sweet taste that was her.

“Victor!”

His name was a low moan as flicked his tongue over the small nub he loved teasing. Her juices flowed freely from her body, and he eagerly lapped at it before returning to her clitoris. When she began to shake, the little tremors alerting him of her oncoming orgasm, he roughly pushed two fingers inside. She screamed, her fingers finding their way into his hair as her breasts heaved. He loved looking at her from this vantage point, seeing, tasting, and smelling her reaction as he loved her.

She came when he sucked hard on her clit and twisted his fingers in her body, and after a few conciliatory laps, he moved up her body, prepared to pleasure her with his aching cock. As his tongue plunged into her mouth, Azaleigh moaned and eagerly kissed him back. He was lining up with her slippery heat when she pulled away. “No, Victor. I want to taste you.”

He went rigid at the thought of her lips around his sex, but allowed her to push him onto his back. They’d never done this before, though not for lack of her trying. He was usually too desperate for her, and once he’d had a taste, was ready to pound away inside her body and taste her blood.

As both of her hands engulfed him, Victor moaned. He tossed an arm over his eyes and willed himself not to come.

“You’re so big, Victor.” Her hot breath fanned the head of his shaft, and he jumped when her tongue, rough but so soft, swirled his angry tip. “I didn’t realize you were
this
big.” Soft lips closed over his head, and she gradually moved down, her wet mouth sucking at him as her fingers slowly pumped him.

His hand slid into her thick hair, pulling her head further down. Victor heard her gag, but she stayed steady, lowering her head a bit further before coming up for air.

“Victor,” she murmured softly, licking the underside in one long, never-ending lick. “Victor, look at me.”

She placed her tongue directly over his opening, and waited. With reluctance, he removed the hand he’d thrown over his eyes and stared at his siren, naked, a smile on her face as she teased him mercilessly.

“You taste so good, Victor,” Azaleigh murmured, pink lips smacking when she sucked him into her mouth once more. Molasses-colored eyes held his as she groaned around him, almost sending him into convulsions.

“That’s enough, baby.” His voice was a growl. Victor couldn’t take more. He sat up, and grabbed her, pulling her away from him and onto her knees in the center of the bed.

“But I wasn’t finished—”

He smacked her buttocks and glared at her in the headboard mirror. “You were being a tease.”

Azaleigh grinned slowly, exactly like what he’d called her. She used one hand to reach under her body and touch herself as she waited for him. Knowing his entry was tricky in this position, he pushed forward slowly, allowing her body to relax around him before feeding her tight sheath more, and then more. He loved this position because of the mirror. Victor could see every sigh of pleasure, every rippling moan, and every line in her forehead when her climax rode her as hard as he did.

As both of her hands returned to the bed, he gripped her hips and began thrusting. Azaleigh lifted her head and stared at him in the mirror, moaning, whimpering, closing her eyes, biting her lips. He came down over her back and palmed one of her breasts, pinching the hardened tip as his hips continued their furious pace.

Her hand moved back, tightening on his hips as she urged him on. Her orgasm was coming. He could see it in her strained face, her soundless cry. He squeezed her breast harder, rode her faster, and the moment she peaked, he leaned across and bit into her neck, pushing her directly from one release into another.

***

She took him into her body twice more after that. When Victor finally fell asleep, she was sore, but it still didn’t feel like it was enough. Crawling onto him, Azaleigh stared at his face in repose. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, but had a personality to match it. When he’d been her zombie Protector, he’d been sensitive, a bit shy, and so sweet. As her vampire lover, the shy had gone out the window, but the intensity had come in, leaving her breathless and in awe most days.

Azaleigh cupped his cheek, cool to the touch as he always was unless they were intimate. Leaning down, she kissed his lips, and murmured against them. “I love you.” She moved to his right cheek. “I’m sorry.” To his left. “Thank you.”

As she pushed up, a droplet fell to his cheek, and she hastily wiped her tears.

She couldn’t stay here. Azaleigh had thought about it.
A lot.
He’d withheld taking her back to Hallows Brook when the choice had been his, so it was obvious he wanted her to stay. A few of the blood slaves, the ones who were more curious than afraid of her, had mentioned asking their Masters to turn them and she’d found out it meant becoming a vampire, not a pure-blood, but still, vampire.
Night Walker.
If Victor turned her, she’d be able to be with him permanently, possibly bear him children. She’d thought of a life of permanent night, without the sun’s rays lighting her body, leaving everything she knew behind, including her mother, and even for Victor, had found she couldn’t submit. She’d never realized before how much she needed the sun, needed the light and the things that thrived under it. And that very same light would kill him.

This was the best thing for both of them.

A haunting knock, soft and secretive, sounded sometime later. Azaleigh brushed her lips once more over her Victor’s, glanced to the folded note on the pillow and left.

***

Azaleigh followed Rachel’s advice, booking the next flight out. As if the hounds of hell were on her heels, she packed her suitcases, closed the house, and found herself on the four o’clock American Airlines flight from Hartsfield-Jackson International to JFK. She was in her New York apartment by the time the sun set, and Azaleigh froze, watching the golden-red rays retreat behind tall buildings as darkness descended.

Victor would be up by now, wondering where she was. He’d read her letter and grow angry, but he’d understand. Eventually.

Needing something to keep her mind from the vampire she’d left in Savannah, Azaleigh checked through her mail, finding a thin envelope from the New York State Board of Examiners. Inside, she found news that made her smile. She’d passed the Bar. She was now able to practice in three states.

She turned and froze, remembering she was no longer in Georgia. There was no Victor to share the news with. Some of her excitement faded as she looked at the cold writing on the paper, hoping she’d made the right choice.

***

When Victor awoke, he knew she was gone. Sunshine was no longer with him, leaving him to face the cold night alone. He found the letter and read it. An angry snarl formed on his face.

To my vampire lover—

If you’re reading this, I’m gone. Don’t search for me, Victor. Please. Don’t go to Hallows Brook because I’m not there either. You and I are too different for anything to come from this. I need the day, and you need the night. I would never fit into your world, nor you in mine. I couldn’t tell you this to your face but I want you know I think you’re a great guy, and are going to make some lucky vampire very happy. Thank you for everything you’ve taught me.

Love,

Azaleigh

When he was through, he searched out his mother. Barging into his parents’ room, despite the two hulking guards who attempted to keep him out, he averted his eyes from their naked, tangled bodies as he raged. “Where is she?”

There was a feminine screech and a masculine grunt before Dorian’s booming words rent the air, anger rolling from each syllable in thick waves. “Boy, when I get dressed, I’m gonna beat the manners into you you’ve obviously forgotten.”

“No, Dorian! Please! Wait!”

Victor heard a rustle and looked up to find his mother wrapped in a silk sheet, hair wild about her head and cheeks flushed, with a restraining hand on his father’s chest.

“Listen to me, Victor. She isn’t worth it. She’s a blood slave, a witch—”

“I didn’t ask your opinion, Mother.” Victor knew they were somehow involved. There was no way Azaleigh could have left this veritable fortress without his parents knowing. “Where is she?”

Dorian tried to move again, but once more, Rachel attempted to hold him down. “Please, my love. Don’t.” She turned to Victor once more and he could see twin trails of blood running past her collarbone from the puncture wounds in her neck. “Go back to your room, Victor. I’ll dress and come to you there.”

“Now?”

Rachel’s green eyes narrowed to slits as she glared at him. “Yes, Victor! Now go!”

Tossing a final glare to a fuming Dorian, Victor stormed out.

***

He went to Hallows Brook anyway. Rachel admitted to helping Azaleigh leave but she’d insisted it had been at the witch’s insistence. Briefly, the thought that something had happened to Azaleigh at his mother’s hand entered Victor’s mind, but just as quickly he dismissed it. Azaleigh wouldn’t have addressed the letter to him the way she did if Rachel had forced her.

When he arrived in the town he’d usually seen in the daytime, Victor felt a pang of regret. He’d tried to leave just before sunset, and had ended up needing to re-grow the outer layer of his skin. Even now, it felt raw. Hurrying to Antoinette’s place, he used the spare key under the flower pot on the porch to enter.

It was empty. Rachel hadn’t been lying to keep him away. Azaleigh was gone. He didn’t need to check upstairs, or turn on any lights to know that. The house was still. Dead. Her scent was a distant memory. Collapsing into a cushioned chair in the sitting room, he stared into the woods behind the house. His nose burned, and he fisted his hair and closed his eyes as pain overtook his body. Once, when he’d been a teenager and had broken his back riding a wild horse at night, he’d felt pain this great: all-consuming. Stifling. It had taken days for his back to heal. Victor wondered how long his heart would take.