Entwined With the Dark (30 page)

I looked into his deep blue eyes and allowed myself to just drown there for a moment. If he didn't hunger for power the most, then I was at a loss. I slowly shook my head. He reached up and brushed a few strands of hair off my face.

"You," he said simply. "I hunger for you. To be joined with you again. To have the Bond. For you to be my vampyre mate in
all
of its guises. For me to be able to feed from you every single night of our lives. There is nothing in this world or any other I want more, than you."

My breath stalled in my lungs, my heart skipped a beat. It wasn't just the power he was so enamoured with, it was having me. It had killed Michel a little to not be the one to join with me again on our return from
Álfheimr
. Some part of him had suffered irreparable damage at the loss. If I had stopped to consider what this chance of rejoining meant, I would have realised that. Sometimes, I can be such a fucking twit.

He started chuckling, his hand shifting to the back of my neck. His thumb rubbing a gentle pattern on the sensitive skin there.

"Does that ease your mind? Can we celebrate now?"

I laughed and shook my head. "We're not joined yet."

"Oh, ye of little faith," he said bringing me closer and wrapping me in his arms. We sat like that for a few seconds and then he said softly, "Can I ask you one thing?"

I nodded against him, too content to talk.

"Always,
always
, talk to me. Let's not go back to how it was."

I nodded again against him and blinked several times to stop my tears. We'd come so far recently, I couldn't bear the thought of not having this connection, this openness we now shared. It didn't take much, just honesty and a promise not to bottle our fears, but talk. If we could do that, then maybe we could handle the disappointment of the Ambrosia not carrying through with this plan.

Because no matter how excited I was, how much I wanted with all my heart for this to occur. A part of me feared it was all false hope. Nothing could possibly be this easy. Nothing in my life ever goes to plan. I wanted to believe, but I couldn't let myself. There was just too much riding on it. I just wanted this way too much that I was scared.

"So am I,
ma douce
," Michel whispered. "So am I."

We sat cuddled in to each other for a good few minutes, neither of us saying a word. I relished his closeness, the warmth of his body next to mine. But it was more than that, it was the feeling that I knew this man, that he was mine and I was his, and that nothing could ever change that now. We had been through so much together, the good and the bad, and now I finally felt, despite what may or may not happen in the future, that our love would always prevail. No matter what. There's an enormous amount of comfort to be gained from such a thought. Nothing would stop us loving each other. No hurdle. No challenge. No change. It was as though it was set in stone. And I savoured it. Delighted in it.
Loved
it.

My mind began to wander on the possibility of rejoining with him. Even though I'd promised myself not to hope, I couldn't stop my disobedient mind playing over the potential outcomes. Ever since Lutin had reversed our joining, which coincided with the
Dökkálfa
charm that stole Michel from our world, I had felt a part of me missing. At first, the thought that Michel was dead
overpowered all others. To the extent that the reversal was merely a side issue, not the main problem at all. With Michel
dead
there was no joining. But then he had returned, or I had found him alive - not necessarily well - in
Álfheimr.
It was only then that the reversal of the joining hit.

Having been overshadowed by his
death
it didn't register with me how much the reversal hurt. Even when I found him again and we returned to our world, the joy of reunion hid the ever present pain of our severed connection. Oh, I still felt it, from time to time, and when I was forced to join with Avery and then had to Dream Walk to him every three days, it flared alive. But it was still overshadowed by his survival. By Michel's return.

Until now. The pain that stayed hidden, camouflaged for so long, deep down inside, reared its ugly head now. And it hurt, even with that smidgeon of hope now, it hurt. I wanted to be joined to him again so badly, my entire body was racked with the pain of that hope possibly being dashed.

I told myself that knowledge was a powerful weapon against the pain.

"How does the Ambrosia think he can reverse it?" Michel stiffened, ever so slightly, at my side. My question had come out of the blue. Maybe he hadn't been in my head, listening to my wayward thoughts. Maybe he'd been too caught up in his own to concentrate on mine. Either way, my voice had startled him. Or the question had, I couldn't tell.

"Do you know what they call the Ambrosia?"

I searched my brain for the descriptions Michel had given so long ago, when we first visited the
Palais
.

"Giver of Eternal Life," I said, stunned I had remembered that at all.

"That's right. No one is sure why he has that name, he is the oldest of our kind. He has been here longer than the Champion, longer than any I know. He also does not talk openly about his talents or his past. The Foreteller knows the most, but does not talk freely of these things."

"So, Giver of Eternal Life, kind of like Nut?" I asked and then remembered something else. "Nut called him
Father
once when she conversed with him in my head. What do you think that means?"

"I am not sure,
ma douce
, but I do not think he is a God like your Nut. However," he said slowly, "there is something about him that is different from most of my kind."

"Well, he's practically all Light for starters," I offered. That had always puzzled me so. Most vampires had some Light, but they were normally predominantly Dark.

"Yes, an unusual occurrence indeed," Michel agreed. Then after a moment's silence, he added, "He has not said how he can do it, but that he is sure it can be done by his hand. He requested some time to investigate the possibility further. That is why I left." Then out of nowhere he added, "He meditates a lot."

Meditates a lot? Hmm, OK. I'm sure it kept his blood pressure down. Well, if the oldest vampire thought he could do something miraculous, such as reversing a joining like a member of the Fey, then who were we to argue? As much as it pained me, I was going to have to be patient and trust. Trust a member of the
Iunctio
Council. It was almost enough to make me laugh.

I must have let a bubble of laughter out, because Michel shifted against me, turning his body towards mine, moving his head down to lay a kiss at the base of my neck.

"Your mood has lifted,
ma belle
. Does this mean we can celebrate now?" His voice was low, a decidedly husky note entering his tone.

It never failed to surprise me how quickly he could get me to melt. One minute my mind is full of chaotic thoughts, my emotions clearly stuck on turmoil. The next I was on fire, turned-on and slowly undressing him in my mind. All negative thoughts forgotten, my mind crystal clear and my body ready for any action he sent my way. It was a hunger of sorts. A never ending craving for this man. All he had to do was flip the switch and my body ached for him again.

"Celebration sounds like a good idea," I said, already a little breathy.

"Oh, I am
so
glad you have come to that same conclusion,
ma douce
. I intend to celebrate in style."

Then he stood up and simply walked away.

God dammit! There he goes flicking that switch again. This time to 'high and dry.'

Thankfully Michel had no intention of leaving me in my flustered and frustrated state. He returned from the corner of the room, where I had missed an ice bucket and bottle of champagne. The bottle already opened, two glasses hanging from his hand. He placed them delicately on the table before me and began to fill each one. The fizzy golden liquid spilled up and over the sides. Not Michel's usual careful pouring style, he'd not intentionally waste good wine.

He handed me a glass, a small smile playing on his lips. I took the offered beverage, a part of me a little disappointed. He noticed my ill attempt to hide my frown.

"Only the best to celebrate with,
ma douce
." The smile hadn't left his lips. He knew.

I let a little breath out and took a sip. Oh, to hell with it. "I had hoped we were celebrating differently."

He suppressed a laugh. "I can tell." Then sitting next to me on the sofa he dipped his finger in his glass, coating the tip with champagne and then ran a wet trail along the edge of my T-shirt. Just above my breasts. Then keeping eye contact with me for a moment, he bent down and lapped the liquid up with one long lick of his tongue.

Heat blossomed through me, tearing a gasp from my lips.

"One should always celebrate with champagne, my dear," he said in a husky voice, dipping his finger into the glass again.

This time he lay a trail down my neck, from behind my ear to above my pulse. I shivered with the anticipation of his tongue. He paused, drawing the moment out, letting the champagne begin to evaporate on my skin, sending tingles down my spine. Then lowered his head and lapped it up, from my pulse point, back up to my ear. Again, disappointment flashed through me. I had hoped he'd end above my vein.

He growled low in his throat, a sexy sound that thrilled me.

"Take off your jacket," he instructed, magenta seeping into his eyes. I fumbled to comply. He didn't help, just sat back and watched, hunger and desire warring in amongst that delicious magenta shine.

Once the jacket was removed he dipped his finger in the champagne again, my mind racing to decide where he would paint the liquid next. This time he lifted my hand, turning my palm face up. I expected the drop in the centre there, but he laid it tenderly against my wrist. My heartbeat jumped, the speed obvious as my vein quivered beneath the thin layer of skin under the champagne.

He sighed, a contented sound, and then lifted my wrist to his mouth, his eyes finding mine and holding me trapped as he laved his tongue against my wet skin.

"You taste delicious," he purred. "Would you like a taste too?"

My breath left me in my confusion. He wanted me to lick my own wrist?

He reached for his glass and took a mouthful, I thought he'd swallow, teasing me perhaps, but instead he reached forward and clasped my chin, bringing my lips to his. He tipped my head back, rising above me, and then forced his tongue between my teeth. When our mouths opened champagne dribbled in.

I was so friggin' turned on.

"Good?" he murmured, I just nodded, stunned. This was so sexy, Michel always appeared as a sex-god in my dreams, but this was definitely a new playful side I hadn't seen before.

He pulled back and licked his lips slowly, then ran his eyes over my body.

"Remove the shirt and skirt," he said in a low voice, then when I didn't move, still caught totally unprepared for this game, he growled low and added, "It's not a request, Lucinda. Strip."

I jumped a little and he laughed, releasing the sudden tension in the room. "It's only a game,
ma douce
. Tell me if you do not wish to play."

Oh, I could never shy away from a challenge. I stood up, moving myself to stand directly before him between his legs and started slowly removing my T-shirt. Taking my time, making sure to draw his attention to my upper body and the tortuously slow reveal of my breasts. I knew what made Michel pant too. He'd always been a breast man.

He eased himself back in his seat and looked up at me, a small mischievous smile on his lips, magenta swirling in his eyes.

"Beautiful," he murmured as the T-shirt finally lifted over my head.

I didn't wait for further instructions, but started on the skirt, leaning forward - giving him a good view of my cleavage - while I shimmied out of the small scrap of fabric. He started chuckling, obviously delighted with the show.

"We should do this more often," he suggested. Then as I righted myself, he commanded, "Your tights too. I want you before me in only your underwear." He licked his lips as his gaze travelled over my body, clad only in bra, panties and the now half removed tights.

I managed to extricate myself from the thigh highs without toppling over, a record I was sure when under such scrutiny. It might have been because I placed first one foot and then the other between his legs on the couch, making sure to ever so slightly run my toes over his straining erection. He did close his eyes briefly at that.

Finally I stood before him as instructed and with my own mischievous smile I said, "What now, Master?"

He threw his head back and laughed loudly at that. "God, if only!" he said jokingly, then shifted and indicated the couch beside him. "Lie down on your back."

As I got myself into position, he slid off the couch, removing his jacket and tie, then came to rest beside me on his knees. He half turned to the coffee table and picked up his glass of champagne. Dipping his finger inside, he ran a wet line down between my breasts. Yeah, I didn't think he'd be able to stay away from them for long. I was wearing a particularly nice black lace ensemble, that made me appear way more endowed than I actually was. His eyebrow raised at my thoughts - I wasn't sure if it was in answer to the one about him not staying away for long from my breasts, or my impression of their size.

He didn't clarify, just leaned in and lapped up the champagne, the heat of his breath feeling cool against the wetness of the liquid. I shivered in response. His hand came up and lowered first one bra cup, to reveal a nipple and then the other. Not removing the bra, but leaving it beneath each mound as though he'd half unwrapped his gifts. I expected him to dip his finger in the drink again and draw around each nipple, but he lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip.

My heart leapt again as he lowered his mouth to one breast, I arched ready for his touch and anticipating the sensations the cool liquid would bring. He didn't disappoint, somehow wrapping his lips around my nipple, without spilling a drop, but once he started sucking a small amount escaped down the side of my breast, tickling and getting soaked up by my bra. I moaned as he nibbled and sucked my nipple to a peak. Then repeated the action all over again with another mouthful of champagne and the neglected breast.

My body was zinging with delicious sensations, he was taking his sweet time with all of this and the thrills he was sending through me were getting more and more intense the longer he took. But still he didn't hurry. Slowly he lifted the champagne glass off the table and brought it over my stomach.

"Don't move," he instructed. "Not a shift, do you understand?" His eyes shot up to mine and I nodded, my bottom lip firmly caught between my teeth. He smiled sexily. "You hanging in there,
ma douce
?"

"Mm-hmm," I managed in reply, using every ounce of strength I had not to move.

"Good, because I haven't finished celebrating yet."

Oh God, I thought, excitement coursing through me. What about my turn to celebrate?

"Oh no," he said, face serious. "I found the solution, I get to play."

I started laughing and he growled, the glass at an angle over my belly button. I stilled at the
look he threw my way.

The champagne was still chilled and as it filled the dip in my stomach, it felt scorching against my hot skin. A corresponding ache settled between my thighs, I shifted slightly, unable to stop the response to the sensation he had created. He growled and flashed a little fang, as a small amount of the liquid tipped over the edge of my belly button and slowly trickled down the side. All I could
think was I
needed
him to lap it up. Now!

He moved slowly, like the predator that he is. His actions sure and steady, approaching his target with complete focus. His entire body ready to pounce, but achingly slow in its approach. It took everything I had not to squirm and he knew it. Finally, his tongue lapped at the liquid and he moaned. A shot of desire burst through me, I arched, moaned as well and felt his hand gently, almost as though it wasn't planned, rub between my legs.

An orgasm exploded unexpectedly as soon as he made contact with the sensitive flesh beneath my knickers. I screamed out as much in surprise as in ecstasy. My body convulsing magically, but his hand had immediately moved away. Surprisingly, despite the sudden release, I felt more wound up than I had before. I groaned as he looked down at me, a satisfied expression on his face.

"Take your underwear off," he instructed and I hurried to comply.

I removed both knickers and bra, unable to stand any clothing on my body anymore. He watched on approvingly, but hadn't stripped himself. The difference in our level of dress seemed to heighten the excitement. As though this was illicit, a stolen moment I shouldn't be having at all.

He reached over and pulled the leg closest to him out wide, exposing me to his perusal. Lifting it up over his shoulder he rested it there while he took another sip of his drink. I knew what was coming and the excitement and incredible anticipation of  what was next had me almost going out of my mind. I was panting with need, my heartbeat was rocketing sky high, sweat had started to grace my skin adding a chilled sensation to my fevered body.

He turned back and looked down at me, then ran a lazy finger through my folds. I bucked and moaned, then started breathing even faster. His eyes flashed magenta, then he slowly, so blasted slowly, lifted my other leg above his shoulder, lowering himself to my groin. He drew the moment out as long as he could, which thankfully wasn't too long - I think he was nearing the edge of his control too - and then his mouth found the exact right spot between my legs and spilled the champagne between my folds. Quickly, he lapped it all up and sucked hard in order to not miss a drop.

He didn't stop, but diligently sought my satisfaction, working hard and fast with his mouth and tongue. Slipping two fingers inside he began pumping in time to the movement of his head, mirroring each lick and suck, making me clench around them the closer to the edge I got. I came in a shower of sparks behind my eyelids, my body shaking uncontrollably beneath his touch. His fingers retreating gently and then a final lick of his tongue over my sensitive flesh. I shuddered with the after effects and watched through a haze as he quickly stripped his clothes.

"This may be quick,
ma douce
," he murmured as he settled himself between my thighs. "I am about to burst with the need to be inside you."

He thrust in slowly, but with delicious intent. A sigh escaping his lips as he buried himself to the base. Then slowly, like everything he had done just now, he took his time rolling his hips and sliding in and out. He held himself above me, the muscles in his arms and torso rigid with the position and his failing control. I ran my fingers over every contour, relishing touching his skin and sculpture of this very fine body above mine.

His fangs came back out and slid down in a slow glide that matched his pace, he growled when I tipped my head sideways exposing my neck. I'm not sure if he intended to bite me, or whether his fangs had just come out because he was so turned on, but the sight of my rapidly beating pulse was enough to tip him over the edge and he struck.

The bite was quickly replaced with desire; his excitement, hunger and urgent need for release. I cried out at the intensity of emotions pouring through the connection where his lips met my skin
and he lapped at my blood. He began picking up the pace with his hips, as he gave himself over to the taste of my blood. Each pull on my vein, coupled with the thrust of his hard length inside, was timed to perfection. I surrendered myself with a scream of his name. He managed to last the length of the feeding, but I knew it was taking a toll. As I came spectacularly, he withdrew his fangs and let out a roar of absolute pleasure as he spilled his load inside.

We both lay panting, tangled up together on the couch. My entire body replete and utterly spent. Through the numbness of my seriously oversexed brain, I thought that might just have been the best celebration party I had ever had. And to think, this had all been because of a possibility and not because we had actually achieved our hearts' desire yet. I could only imagine what the celebration would be like when the Ambrosia reversed the joining and rejoined us.

"
When
,
ma douce
?" Michel whispered, pulling back slightly to gaze at me. He wore the look of a very satisfied man. "I think I like hearing that optimism, let's hold on to it and plan our...
party -
as you say - for when it does occur."

I smiled up at him, unable to resist his enthusiasm and joy at the prospect ahead.

"OK," I said. "Only positive thoughts from now on." He nodded and leaned down to kiss me deeply, one hand wrapped up in my hair, the other lazily stroking my side.