Forbidden Drink (26 page)

“Never mind, it may or may not come back to you, but the police will want to know. You should expect a visit from them soon. We'll try to delay them as long as we can, we don't particularly like them up here in DCC, but once you're back on the ward, they'll come calling.”

DCC? Department of Critical Care. I'd seen the directory in the hospital foyer before, when I'd visited ED, or the Emergency Department, after particularly bad hunts. I wondered what my hospital file told them. Was I a repeat trauma patient, did they think I had an abusive partner perhaps?  Jeez, just what I needed.

She finished up whatever it was she was doing, checking machines, fiddling with buttons, then fluffed my pillows, gave me another sip of water and left. I heard her soft rubber soled footfalls on the linoleum floor as she walked away and then her hushed words from the distant end of what was obviously a large open plan room, the cubicles were situated in.

“Ah, Mr Durand, you'll be pleased to know your wife is awake.” Her voice had a sing-song timbre, she was actually flirting with him. I couldn't hear his reply, but I did get her soft laughter as she headed further away.

Was I even well enough to be jealous? Nah. Especially as she had called me his wife.

I held my breath in anticipation. I wanted Michel so badly, but I was scared of how hurt he was, of what news he would bring, of everything. I suddenly felt so small in the big hospital bed I was lying in, surrounded by bulky machines that I didn't understand and the weight of a Prophesy crushing into me.

He rounded the end of the partition and just stood there. He could have been an angel, he was awash with light. Maybe it was just the position he was standing under the fluorescents above, or the fact that my eyes had welled up with tears and everything seemed a little blurry, but he was beautiful, perfect. And apart from some faint marks at his neck and wrists, I couldn't see any other injuries, despite my eyes moving over him and devouring every inch of him that they could.

He was beside me a second later, his hand on my face, his mouth on my neck, words and sentences in French tumbling out against my skin, hot and fervent and alive.

I had my hands in his hair, pulling him closer. I wanted my lips on him too, but he seemed unable to move, unable to let me go, unable to pull his face away from his marks on my skin and unable to stop the desperate spill of French from his mouth. I couldn't understand a word he was speaking, it was all so fast and his accent so strong, but I understood what he meant. I was glad he was alive too.

Finally, he ran out of steam and the odd English word started slipping into his monologue. I hadn't interrupted, I kind of felt like he needed to get all of that out before we could actually have a conversation. But when he slowed enough for there to be pauses, I pulled his head up off my neck and dragged him to my mouth.

He managed to keep his weight off me, placing his arms on either side of my head. His mouth was perfect and soft, the touch of lips, like coming home. He sighed against me.

“You had me worried,
ma douce
.”

“Likewise, you.”

He didn't pull away, just rested his forehead against mine, letting his breath wash over me, his scent fill my nostrils, his
Sanguis Vitam
flood against my shields. I lowered them automatically, but he didn't rush in, he pulled back slightly and looked over his shoulder, then said,  “If I do this, they will know and there will be questions. I can glaze the staff now and remove your records, but there could be a chance that I miss something or someone. This could prove troublesome for you in the future should you require medical attention again.”

Plus, he knew how I felt about glazing.

“You could do it though, couldn't you? Cover it up, I mean?" I asked biting my bottom lip.

“Yes.”

“Then take me home, Michel. Get me out of here.” To hell with the repercussions, to hell with glazing up a storm, I needed to be back on my feet now, not in two week's time. I needed to be with Michel.

His
Sanguis Vitam
came flooding in as soon as I had finished talking. It felt like sunshine on a winter's day, like your first taste of ice cream as a toddler, like the moment you realised you were in love and that person loved you back. It was filled with light and love and happiness and was so much more powerful than I had ever felt before. It also went on longer than Michel ever had to before, when healing me. I gathered I had quite a bit to heal. No wonder the Norms would have kept me for two more weeks and even then I would have been a battered and bruised wreck.

Finally, it pulled away and I felt relief from the aches and pain, but also so tired, I could hardly open my eyes. Michel was breathing deeply beside me, leaning on the edge of the bed.

“Are you all right?” I asked sleepily.

He nodded, but looked a little pale. “I'll deal with the staff and the records. Erika and Jett are here, they'll help you out to the car.”

He turned away slowly, moving at a much more deliberate pace than usual. I was suddenly a little concerned for him. That had taken a lot to do.

Erika appeared around the corner of the partition, all smiles and bright eyes.

“Hey,
chica
. You call for a taxi?”

She started to help me out of the bed, removing tubes and lines and God knows what else from God knows where else. She knew what she was doing though, as though it was all par for the course. Then Jett came into view.

“Need a hand?” he said smiling at me.

I shook my head. “We'll be fine, go help Michel. Healing me was harder than he expected, I think.”

Immediately Jett was on full alert, he nodded and swung away to cover his master.

I swayed a little when I made it upright, but with Erika's arm around my waist, she steadied me and somehow we made it out of DCC and to the lifts without bumping into a soul. I was guessing there was a fair bit of
Sanguis Vitam
floating through the air, but I couldn't concentrate enough on sensing it, all my attention was on putting one foot in front of the other and not blacking out.

I was healed, physically all the holes were fixed and the connections remade, but my body was screaming for rest. Even vampire healing mojo can only do so much.

We made it to the car parked in a special temporary car park at the front entrance, no doubt hidden by a ward and Erika helped me into the back. She slid in next to me, but I didn't register anything else, falling asleep pretty much straight away. When I awoke, the car was moving and it was no longer Erika at my side, but Michel, holding me in his arms and kissing my head.

The last thing I heard before succumbing to beautiful slumber again was Michel's sweet voice in my ears and breath on my skin.

“Sleep, my love, I am taking you home.”

I wondered briefly, before blackness came, where home actually was.

I don't know how long I slept for, but when I awoke the shutters on my bedroom window at the house in St. Helier's were down. And Michel was wrapped around my side, one arm under my shoulders, his face nestled into my neck, his other arm across my chest, a leg over my thigh. He couldn't have got any closer if he had tried.

And we were both naked.

I pulled the covers up on the bed as they were down around our hips and snuggled down under their and Michel's weight, allowing myself to drift back off to sleep.

When I awoke again it was to the soft touch of Michel's hand on my stomach, tracing patterns with his fingers around my belly button, slowly working his way lower in swirls and circles. The warmth of his touch sending shock waves through me. He sensed I was awake, but didn't stop, just kept moving millimetre by millimetre closer to where butterflies were dancing and I had suddenly felt a rush of slick, hot heat. He shifted his body closer to me, allowing his erection to press hard against my hip. I could feel it throbbing between us, an unspoken hint of what was to come.

I knew this was the point of no return. I knew this was what I had been dreading and been craving, all at the same time. Now, was the time to decide. Push Michel away or let him back in? As I felt him hesitate, the closer he got to where he wanted to be on my body, I knew he was waiting for me to finish that thought. I had been struggling with loss of control for a long time now. It felt familiar, not exactly a friend, but an old acquaintance. I realised then, that I had let it have that effect on me. I had given it power, when it may not necessarily have had it all on its own. I asked myself the one question that only really mattered. Could I live without him? I knew the answer immediately: no. I couldn't live without Michel. I didn't want to either. I choose this.

This was my decision to make. I was making it now. I was taking control of my life back, allowing Michel to be part of it, on my terms. I was back in charge, at least of this.

Suddenly his hand had made it to its destination and he slowly spread my thighs and placed his palm against my centre, his fingers running back and forth across the sensitive folds there, making them wetter and wetter. And making my body start to arch up to meet him. He answered with a quick thrust of a finger inside. I groaned and threw my head back on the pillow, shutting my eyes and letting the sensations he was creating take over.

I could think of worse ways to be woken.

He started kissing down the centre of my body then, past my breasts, over my rib cage, around my belly button and then lower. He didn't stop, just repositioned himself between my legs, pushing them further apart to allow for his broad shoulders. His hands began running up the undersides of my thighs, to rest on either butt cheek and then he lifted me off the bed and kissed me, taking a soft, wet fold between his teeth and biting down.

I lost it then and had to fight to catch my breath, but he was determined and continued to suck one fold after the other, with the odd tongue thrust in between. And then finishing off with a bite, his fangs piercing once, twice, three times, the intensity so strong, the line between pleasure and pain so thin, I couldn't tell which side I was treading, but wanted it all. The sharp sting of his fangs, the flow of heat and lust and desire, to be repeated again and again.

Finally, he stopped biting and just sucked and licked and found that precious little spot that sent me thrashing beneath him and screaming out his name when I finally came. He moved up beside me and held me in his arms, whispering in French again, as I slowly came down off that high. I felt him rubbing his hard length against my hip, then when my breathing settled, he kissed my neck and shifted his weight, so the tip of his sex sat at my entrance.

I opened my eyes and stared up at him as he stayed poised above me, his eyes were flashing amethyst and indigo, his mouth a perfect Cupid's bow, his face flushed with hunger and need.

“Welcome home,” he whispered against my lips as he kissed me.

“It's good to be home,” I said shifting my hips, making my wet entrance press against his hard length. He sucked in a sharp breath and closed his eyes, but didn't enter me, just sat there teasing.

“I am hungry for you,
ma douce
.” I don't think he was just talking blood, but blood was there in the question, so I lifted my chin and exposed my neck, a sure invitation to a vampire.

He growled, but said, “I had another place in mind.”

He moved in lightning speed and was between my legs again, his fingers thrusting into me, not quite as welcomed as his hard length would have been at this point, but managing to get me writhing again, thrusting back against his digits, meeting them with every flick and movement he made inside me. I was just about to crest another wave of a mind blowing orgasm when his head dipped to my upper thigh and his fangs pierced so close to my entrance that I couldn't really tell if he wasn't there or not. His fingers working magic, his mouth sucking blood, every sensation I had pooling right there, right at my centre and the feel of it all was so intense, I exploded in a rush of wet heat that went on for as long as he fed, washing over me again and again, not retreating but making me ride the wave longer than ever before.

My body shook, my screams went on for minutes, hours, days and the world ceased to exist. But for him and me, his mouth, my blood and his fingers.

He released me eventually and I sank back against the sheets exhausted but more alive than I had ever felt before. I felt his tongue licking his fang marks and it was still so sensitive there I whimpered.

“I would allow you a moment to recover, but I am afraid, I need to be inside you, right now.” His voice was husky and low, so strained I could barely understand him, but I got with the programme as soon as I felt his bodyweight above me, his straining hard and wet sex at my entrance and then I felt him slide it home.

His face came down to nestle against my neck and he growled, “You are mine.” I couldn't help feeling that that possessive statement was going to be around for a while. He hadn't stopped uttering those very same words every time his hard, long, thick sex entered me since I had returned from Wellington and the fight with Nero.

With every thrust he made inside me, I kept hearing the words in my head. I don't know if he was projecting them to me in his thoughts, or if the erotic notion of him possessing me not only with his body, but with every fibre of his self, made me think of them. Like a beat of drums as his hips rocked and his shoulders flexed and his cock entered me as far as it would go.

It didn't take long for either of us to orgasm. I was still so sensitive down there, from what he had just done and he was so desperate to mark me with his scent and seed, that within seconds we were spent and collapsed together on the bed. Our breathing ragged, our heartbeats motoring and our sweat soaked bodies moulded together in a tangled pile of intertwined limbs and intertwined hearts.

Neither of us moved for a good five minutes, still floating down off the crest of the wave, still trying to catch our breath. Finally, Michel reached for the coverlet and pulled it over us, snuggling back into the same position we had been in when I first woke.

“You are still so tired,
ma douce
. Sleep.”

It was as though his words were commands - which they can't be anymore, the joining does not allow it even when I'm having trouble maintaining my shields - but I drifted off to sleep in the comfort and protection of his arms.

The shutters raising for the evening is what woke me. Michel was on his side, awake, watching me. I got the impression he had been watching me all day.

I stretched and yawned, like a Siamese cat, beside him and basked in the glow of his smile.

“You're still here?” I reached up and stroked his face.

“I could not leave you. You are my miracle. My dream come true.” He bent down and kissed me long and slow. “Is it nice to be home,
ma douce
?”

So, this was my home, huh? I nodded. I could handle calling this my home for a while, as long as he was here too. Shit. Where had that come from?

His smile quirked a bit at the corners. I closed my eyes and swallowed a groan.

“I'm projecting again, aren't I?”

“Yes,” he said laughing quietly.

“I bet you're just loving that.”

“It would be a lie to say otherwise. You hold so much of yourself back normally, it has been a pleasure recently to see what you truly feel.”

“And what is that?” Because, I'm not entirely sure even I know the answer to that question.

He paused. “Perhaps it would be better to let you discover the answer to that on your own.” He kissed my nose and got up off the bed, all six foot two naked glory of him. I watched him walk into the bathroom and turn the shower head on.

The shower wasn't as big as the one at
Sensations
, it only had one shower head, no massaging nozzles, couldn't fit a rugby team inside, maybe just one or two forwards at a pinch.

“There is still room for you,
ma douce
.” He called out above the water splashing, before stepping inside the stall and adding. “I can always have it renovated if you wish.”

I bet he could, I thought. Why don't you throw a jacuzzi in while you're at it.

As you wish, ma belle. Anything for you. Now are you joining me?

I stifled a laugh, just letting the air rush out in a semi huff. He was impossible and the sooner my thoughts were my own again the better. But, what if this was permanent? Crap. That just really would make his day, wouldn't it?

I lay there awhile, listening to the water falling in the room next door. Shifting my body weight from side to side, fidgeting a little, until I could stand it no more. I stepped into the shower stall in a flash, having covered the distance to the bathroom without even realising it.

Michel murmured, as he pulled me under the hot spray, “When you make your mind up about something, there's no holding you back is there?” I could feel his shoulders shaking from laughter.

Then he was soaping me up, gently washing away the after effects of our love making, cleansing me from the hospital smells that lingered and rediscovering my body all over again.

Twenty minutes later we were both panting and needing another soap up before we could actually make it out of the shower stall.

“I can't take you anywhere, can I?” he said as he finished washing me down, again. “Every opportunity there is, you assault me with your feminine wiles.”

“
I think the sentence is:
you
can
take me anywhere
, as you have just so aptly proven yet again. Showers, car seats, office desks...”

He raised his eyebrows at me. “Are you trying to go for a record here,
ma douce
?” He pushed his now fully erect sex against me again, I just closed my eyes and shook my head.

“You are way too highly strung, Michel.”

“Ah,” he said in reply. “I can take the hint.” And pulled away.

I didn't let him get far before clasping his arm with one of my hands and pulling his head down towards me with another. I whispered against his mouth right before I kissed him, “Horizontal, that's my only request. I don't think I can stand another minute upright.”

I was in his arms and on the bed in a second, the shower still running, our bodies still wet and soapy, his hard length inside me once more. Those words, his new mantra, whispered against the skin at my throat as he thrust deep again and again, “You are mine,
ma douce
, you are mine.”

Suddenly he pulled out and flipped me over, repositioning himself behind me, bringing me up on my knees and pushing my head down onto the bed. He re-entered me with a groan, moving more slowly now, savouring the angle, enjoying every movement, every sensation.

“I believe you had thought of this when we were in the car in your dream, had you not? I must pay more attention to your desires,
ma douce
. From this angle, you are sublime.”

I couldn't answer right then, as he had leaned forward and started playing with my wet folds with his fingers, as his hard length slipped in and out in a constant rhythm. I could feel every stroke of him. Every touch and rub of his fingers had me panting and begging and moaning within seconds and as I came his fingers soaked up my wet release and then he started moving in earnest. His hands both returned to my hips, he rocked back and forth behind me, bringing me against himself as he thrust forward, going so deep, so far. I could feel him stretching me to my limit, his strength, his size, all this side of too much, but tipping me off the edge of a cliff all over again as he pumped himself inside me and cried out in release.

This time, I couldn't move a muscle. Michel had collapsed down on top of me, pinning me to the bed. His upper body had slid to the side, so I could still breath, but his waist, hips and legs, had me trapped. I couldn't have cared less. I was replete.

“I think you've killed me. I've gone to heaven,” I mumbled into the pillow.

His hand came out and started stroking down my back, sending tingles along my spine that my body was too tired to respond to. But, it still felt deliciously good. His breathing was uneven and I don't think he was able to formulate a reply straight away, so we just lay there and luxuriated in the warmth of our bodies and the total satisfaction of unbelievably great sex.