Ambrosia (Nectar Trilogy, Book 2) (21 page)

“What the hell?” he asked.

Kyla was about to speak but then she saw the blue in his eyes fade to black again and the grey rushed over his skin like a shadow. His fangs shot back out.

“Oh my God!” she breathed and tried to scamper backwards but he rushed her again and was on her, his hands pinning her shoulders.

The black gave way to blue and the grey faded. Fangs retracted. Tristan was breathing hard, struggling, his mouth contorted, “What the fuck?”

Kyla shook her head frantically, “You have to go! Go!”

He let go of her and ran out of the room, slamming the door.

She got up and ran to the door and twisted the lock but decided instantly that it was an absolutely idiotic thing to do. She lifted her nightie, a short one, light pink, sort of like a very long tank top that hit just above her knees and quickly snapped the elastic of the waistband of her pale blue bikini briefs to see if there was blood in her underwear.  There wasn’t. Why was he like this, then? The ovulation peak?

What do I do?

The lock turned back unlocked and the door flew open. Hard. The door bounced off the wall and there he was, in front of her, only about a foot away, billowing cold out of his mouth. His eyes and skin were wrong again.

And then he was on her, his nose on her throat and he advanced, backing her up until she fell on the bed as his teeth sank in. Her fists clenched the sheets and she felt so much fear that she was afraid it’d kill her. His palm went to her shoulder to pin her and it was freezing.

She heard him swallow and felt a foreign sensation inside her, but then the heat returned. Her eyes opened and she couldn’t see his face but could feel him. Not rust or emptiness or cold but warmth flooding her instead,
Tristan
flooding her instead.

“What the fuck, baby?” he muttered and looked at her.

“You have to go,” she whispered, feeling him get erect against her.

“Yeah, I know, okay,” he kissed her throat and backed off the bed and zoomed out of the room.

She felt throbbing in between her legs. She was suddenly drenched and completely throbbing with need.

He was back. He was back and his skin looked normal and his eyes looked normal but he looked like he’d just come in from a marathon the way his chest was moving up and down rapidly.  He was at the end of the bed.

He looked so fucking sexy she wanted to jump him.

“I have to fuck you,” he told her and the way he said it, it was as if he was trying to preach to the choir that the sky was blue.

“Yeah,” she scampered up and launched herself at him.

“You have to stop me from fucking you,” he said as he caught her.

His hands were on her ass and her legs were around him, her short nightgown hiked up around her waist, her arms around his neck, and she had his earlobe in her mouth.

“Stop,” she said feebly but then ran her hands up his chest and tangled her fingers into his hair and then her tongue was in his mouth.

He rounded the bed and put her on her back horizontally across it and then her hands were in his track pants, pulling his cock out.

“I have to stop,” he said against her lips but his hands were hiking her legs up and then ripping her panties to shreds, and then his cock was right against her entrance.

“You have to stop,” she mumbled.

“You smell so fucking good,” he said, with anger, “You are so fucking wet right now.”

“So fucking wet,” Kyla agreed on a whimper and then jerked her hips forward and then he thrust inside her, hard, to the max and they both moaned. Kyla’s ankles locked against his back and she dug her nails in and he let out a very masculine sound of pleasure.

“Harder!” she demanded, goosebumps everywhere.

“No, got to get outta here,” He said but he
was
definitely going harder. He was also going faster. She was thrusting her pelvis at him, digging her nails into his back, and then tears were streaming down her face because she knew that they were in over their heads. She knew this but couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

“Go, Tristan. You have to stop this right now before … before you come inside me…Oh God…bite me. Bite me bite me bite me. Fucking bite me.”

He complied, biting her throat and swallowing twice, kissing it, then circling his hips, plunging hard into her, and then suddenly, he flew back, leaving her empty and his hands were in his own hair and he was shaking his head, “I can’t…” He vanished out of the room and Kyla went after him.

When she got to the bottom of the stairs he was standing there, his back to her, his head in his hands.

“Tristan…” she breathed.

He spun around and his eyes were coal black.

“Get the fuck back upstairs!” he demanded.

“Ohhhh…kay,” She spun around to do as he’d told her but then after she got up just one step he grabbed her arm, spun her back around and his mouth caught hers and they tumbled onto the stairs. Him on top, her on her back, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist. He hiked the nightie back up; she heard the fabric stretch in protest. He grabbed her by both hips, and slammed inside.

“Fuck!” he growled and then his eyes were blue and glowing bright, brighter than she’d never seen them glow before.

“Fuck, Kyla! Holy fuck!”

“What?” She threw her head back and moaned because he was still pushing in over and over while this was happening.

“Your eyes…” he said, “they’re glowing!”

Her fingers went to her clit and she started moaning loud, rotating her hips with him inside her. He grabbed her hand and sucked her fingers into his mouth and put his own fingers to her clit instead.

The stairs dug into her back and the back of her neck but she didn’t give a shit. She was drunk with desire and Tristan was fucking her harder, faster, kind of supersonic-like. She felt buzzing on her clit, felt her g-spot like it’d grown ten sizes, and her inner walls started to spasm. She started to come. She started to come hard.

“Tristan! I love you so much. Please don’t stop.” His free hand skimmed her torso and then held her jaw.

“I can’t stop. Fuck, but I tried. Kiss me.” His head descended and his tongue plunged in and she let him. He kissed her so deeply and so hard, tasting like ambrosia fruit salad, that the thought flitted through her mind that she could die right now and know no greater bliss. Being fucked on the stairs by her vampire prince right smack dab in the middle of ovulating.

Ovulating.

Fuck.

Her faculties returned as Tristan came inside of her. She felt it like a hot jet and when that hot whoosh hit, she felt something else. She felt the area inside her pelvis start to tremble, heat up, like it was 900 degrees inside, and then everything faded to black.

~~~

Everything hurt. Her back felt bruised.
The stairs.

Her mouth felt swollen.
All the kissing.

Her vajayjay felt raw.
The sex.

The sex.

THE SEX.

Shit. Shit, shit shit.

She opened her eyes and looked around. She was in the sleigh bed. She sat up slowly, feeling achy all over.

She looked under the covers and lifted the nightgown. Nope, no underwear on. They were definitely gone. And she was definitely raw and sore down there. She had no doubt that it hadn’t been a dream.

She got up and went to the bathroom. Then she looked in the mirror and washed.

Am I pregnant now?

Am I nine months away from giving birth to a baby? Tristan’s baby? Our baby?

And am I gonna die?

She put her hand to her belly.

A baby…

Her other hand covered her mouth and she stared at herself in the mirror, her eyes filling up.

She shook the trance off, went back to the bedroom, put a robe on and underwear on and then quietly opened the door and listened. She didn’t hear anyone downstairs so she tiptoed down the stairs.

She found Tristan, sitting in a chair facing the front door, a glass of whiskey in his hand and he looked like shit. The sun was up but he hadn’t slept.

His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was a mess, like he’d spent hours just raking his fingers through it in frustration. He had changed from his track pants into a suit. No tie, top few shirt buttons undone, and scruff on his face.

He looked at her and she saw a flash of pain in his eyes. Then he threw the contents of the glass back against his mouth and took a big gulp. Then he whipped the glass against the fireplace and it smashed.

Kyla took a big gulp of air, of nothing. She tightened the sash on her robe and then her palms were on her face.

“I…” she didn’t know what to say.

He shook his head and his mouth contorted sourly.

She rushed the rest of the way to him, climbed onto his lap, pulling her knees up against herself, and then she put her arms around his shoulders, burying her face into his neck.

He sat, stone still. Not putting his arms around her, not touching her at all. He was just stiff.

“You’re not coming down from it,” he finally said.

She lifted her head up and looked him in the face, not understanding.

“You peaked last night and today would’ve still been a danger zone because you would’ve been descending. You’re not descending.”

She knew what that meant. That meant the egg had been fertilized.

She put her arms around herself and her forehead back into his throat and felt a swirl of crazy scary emotions.

Fear, sadness, more fear. More sadness. Foreboding.

She looked up at his face.

His eyes looked dead. Dead cold.

There was a knock at the door. Tristan didn’t move. Kyla didn’t move, either.   A moment later there was another knock. Tristan continued to ignore it. He was staring off into space with dead eyes and Kyla went to get up but his arms whipped around and caged her in. His palm was on her back. He tightened his grip. She buried her face into him again and closed her eyes. His other hand tangled into her hair.

She heard a key and then the doorknob turned and the door opened.

“Good morning,” she heard Adrian call out.

They must’ve been a sight. Her in his lap, both of them looking like they’d been through a war. They had.

She didn’t look up.

Adrian spoke again, his voice far less cheerful, “I was…I was going to invite you both to breakfast but it looks like this is a bad time. I’ll have food sent here for you both. Tristan, call me when you’re ready to talk.”

“Just Kyla,” Tristan said.

“Pardon?” Adrian asked.

“Just send food for Kyla.”

“Annnnd……should I…”

Dead silence.

“Tristan?” Adrian pushed, “Should I---”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“I see.”

There was silence. Adrian didn’t move.

“We’ll talk later,” Tristan’s voice was as dead as his eyes.

“The window is short, Tristan. If we---”

“No!” he barked. His grip on her tightened to the point of pain but she kept her face buried.

Kyla didn’t allow herself to think about what they were talking about. But she knew.

“I’ll have food sent,” Adrian said and she heard the door close and then heard the key as Adrian re-locked it from the outside.

Tristan rose, lifting her up into his arms from his lap, and carried her upstairs and put her in bed. He covered her with the blanket, kissed her on the forehead, and she put her fingertips to his chin cleft. They stared at one another for a beat. Tristan’s eyes warmed and looked like they were filling up with wet. Her chin started to tremble. He kissed her lips softly and then he left, leaving the door open.

Kyla stayed in bed for a long time, just listening to birds singing outside, just laying there in what felt like a trance. She couldn’t dig in and think about this. She couldn’t. There was no way to run from it but she just couldn’t process it right now so instead she just stayed there, staring into space, listening to birds chirp and tweet sometimes happily sometimes sounding annoyed, and then she heard the front door and a few minutes later Tristan stepped back in, put a tray on the nightstand and said, “Eat.”

She shook her head, “I don’t think I can.”

“You have to,” he said softly, not looking her in the eye, and then he left.

She got up and lifted the lid and saw scrambled eggs and ham steak and a dish of blueberries with yogurt plus coffee and orange juice.

She robotically shoveled in every bite, drank every last drop of both, and then she slept like the dead. But then she woke up, looked at the clock, and saw that she’d slept 11 hours, then felt carbonated bile and a sour taste rise in her throat.

She dashed to the bathroom and violently threw up and then on the way back to bedroom she got crippling cramps in her stomach and ended up doubled over, on the floor, unable to move, gripping a spindle on the upstairs railing.