Bloodchild (13 page)

Every time he’d been allowed to
touch her had been special, a gift he’d always be grateful for. But tonight…
tonight was different. Tonight the intensity of every touch was dialed up.
Every brush of her fingers was like a jolt of electricity running through his
system, with pleasure replacing pain. The scent of her, floral soap and
excitement mixing together, was intoxicating.

“May I taste you?” he murmured,
looking up at her over the expense of her flushed body.

She was biting down on her lower
lip and nodded rather than answering in words.

Settling between Vivien’s thighs,
Bradan laid a small kiss over the flushed pink flesh that framed her sex. Small
flicks of his tongue covered the length of her folds up to her clit. As close
as he was, the deep scent of her desire was overwhelming, and Brad couldn’t get
enough of it. At the same time, he wanted more than just her scent, so thick he
knew he’d never forget it. He wanted, as he had asked her, to taste.

With gentle fingers, he parted her
folds, baring her to him. He was dimly aware of her hand settling on his head
when he slid his tongue inside her and lapped at her wetness. If her scent was
a heady perfume, this very primal taste of her was ambrosia, both sweet and
tangy, slick and warm. Her body trembled, her fingers tightened in his hair,
and Brad hummed as he plunged his tongue inside her again for another taste.

Pulling back out again, he gave a
few broad swipes of his tongue along her opening and upward, ending at her
clit, which made her squirm every time, small gasps and appreciative moans
rising from her. He started to alternate between those long licks and tasting
her, keeping his rhythm unpredictable so she never knew what would come next.

He wasn’t sure when his eyes had
closed of their own accord, but he opened them again to look up at her. The
sight of her lying quivering under his touch, her head arched back and her hips
trying to rise every so often to draw him in further, was almost as enticing as
the taste of her—almost, but not quite.

The thought came to him that
surely, even her blood couldn’t have been any sweeter. He froze as he realized
his mistake in even allowing himself to think of her blood. His fangs were
trying to come out, and all of a sudden he was hyperaware of the blood pulsing
through her, could feel it flowing beneath his fingers as they rested at the
juncture of her thighs.

Scrunching his eyes closed again,
he concentrated on pushing back his fangs and, lowering his mouth to Vivien
again, focused solely on her clit, sucking and licking, every last bit of him
intent on giving her pleasure as he forced himself not to think about the way
she tasted on his tongue.

Vivien’s quiet moans and the small
thrusts of her hips against him continued to accentuate, but even then Brad was
almost startled when she came—and maybe he always would be, always in awe at
the thought that he was allowed to make her feel this way.

When her hand, rather than pulling
him closer, pushed him away as she became too sensitive for his touch, he knelt
up and watched her, lost in the pleasure that he had given her. He feasted his
eyes on her, like his mouth had feasted on her wetness, like he so craved to
feast on—

No, he admonished himself. He
couldn’t think about her blood, especially not now when he couldn’t bear to be
apart from her any longer, so close and yet so far.

He surged forward, covering her
body with his, resting on his elbows so as not to crush her, a question on his
lips that he never got to voice: she answered it by wrapping her legs around
his waist and pulling him closer. He’d been hard for what felt like hours and
when her hand, burning and trembling, sneaked between their bodies to take hold
of his erection, he gasped.

She guided him inside her even as
his hips shifted forward. She was so wet around him, one thrust was all it took
for him to slide all the way in. Every bit of her felt like it was burning him,
inside and out. The last remnants of her first orgasm were still rocking her,
and he just remained still for a moment, both enjoying the feel of her heat and
getting a grip on himself.

He only realized he’d closed his
eyes again when she caressed his face with her fingertips. When he looked at
her, she smiled and started to move under him, her arms wrapping around his
shoulders, her hips canting against his. At first, he followed her rhythm, slow
movements that brought their bodies close, skin brushing against skin, each
slide an intimate caress as he stroked deep within her, as the hard points of
her nipples drew lines of fire on his chest. Soon, though, it wasn’t enough
anymore and his hips began to thrust faster, harder against her heat, drawing
wordless cries from her.

He realized suddenly that he was
more forceful than he meant to be—more forceful than he had been when they’d
made love before. With some difficulty, he made himself slow down and asked, a
little breathless, “Is it too… much? Do you want me to slow down?”

Vivien’s gasped “No!” was a clear
enough answer, but she still added, “Don’t stop, keep doing what you were
doing. Please.”

Reassured, Bradan pushed himself
up, kneeling up and clasping her hips as he resumed his thrusts. He told
himself he merely wanted better leverage, but he also needed to get away from
her neck. The hunger was still there, the need for her blood melding with the
need for her body, and while he was close, so close to satiating the latter,
he’d rather not be too near her throat, where the temptation might become too
strong.

She was stroking his chest, his
arms, and everywhere she was touching him felt like a brand, as though she were
touching the very core of him and leaving an indelible imprint on his soul. Her
breasts bounced with each of his thrusts, her hips meeting his own, and the
sounds she made… He would dream of those sounds, he knew that much, and what
nice dreams they would be…

“I love you.” The words came out
of their own accord, before he even knew he wanted to say them, and once he
heard them pass his lips he couldn’t stop himself from saying them again and
again. “I love you, Vivien, I love you so much. I love you—”

Vivien’s fingers wove with his on
her hips. Her thumb brushed against the QuickSilver mark on the inside of his
wrist and she keened, a low, raw sound that might have been his name. Her body
clenched around his cock, shivers coursing through her and rocking him, too. It
was too much at once, too many sensations. He followed Vivien into pleasure,
the same way he’d have followed her anywhere.

As his mind went bright and blank,
he collapsed forward, letting her draw him to her. Some small part of him tried
to tell him to get off her but already her arms were folding around him,
holding him close against her still trembling body. When his vision cleared, he
realized her neck was right there, practically against his lips. Her skin
glowed with the rush of blood. His fangs came out again, and this time he
couldn’t control the instinct, couldn’t push them back, not any more than he
could stop himself from rocking against her, his cock softened but still
cradled within the warmth of her body.

He kissed her neck, barely
brushing his lips to her pulse point; just a kiss and nothing more, he promised
himself, but hunger was tearing him apart, erasing everything that wasn’t
Vivien, everything that wasn’t her blood. He didn’t even realize he was opening
his mouth.

His first taste of her was like
heaven—and like the fires of hell consuming him alive.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A Taste of Blood

From the moment the door closed
behind Bradan and Dame Vivien, Aedan fought his instinct to follow them and
drag Bradan out away from her by the scruff of his neck.

Everything he knew, everything
he’d ever felt as a young vampire told him that he should stop what was
happening right now. And he knew what was happening all too well. The bond made
it clear to him. Being so close to Bradan, with only a door between them,
accentuated the sensations that came through—and that was on top of the
deepened strength of the bond since Bradan had become a vampire. If he hadn’t
known any better, Aedan would have thought they were his lips being kissed, his
body being touched. And if he listened closely enough, he would have no trouble
hearing—

He turned away from the door and
strode down the corridor, his boots striking the stone floor noisily. As a
guard, he always did his best to be quiet and unobtrusive; being noticed was
only part of the job in very specific circumstances. Right now, though, any
sound would be better than hearing them, on top of everything that filtered
through the bond.

When it had happened before, he’d
tried as best he could to ignore it, to push away what he was experiencing
second-hand and not peek in, however inadvertently, where he didn’t belong. He
was far from being the first twin on Foh’Ran to be confronted with this
particular situation. Oftentimes, the answer was for the two brothers or
sisters to share a lover, but he refused to even let himself fantasize about
the idea. He might have considered it when he was much, much younger, but he
knew better now.

Just like he knew better than to
close his mind to what was happening. He had to know what was going on in
Bradan’s head, keep a close eye on his hunger, and if it increased, if
something changed, if it felt as though Bradan was about to succumb, then he’d
have to intervene, regardless of whether his help was wanted or not.

For a moment, it seemed as though
they’d seen reason and wouldn’t get any closer than what they’d already
done—kissing, Aedan thought. But it didn’t last. Heat flared again through
Bradan’s heart and body, quickly followed by hunger, though he seemed to be
keeping it in check.

Aedan would have given anything to
be proven wrong and for Bradan to be able to control the growing hunger that
could tear him apart. But he wasn’t wrong. Decades of experience told him so.
He knew that it wouldn’t be long before Bradan and their dame realized it, too.
But until they did, all he could do was pace, wait, experience things he had no
right to be privy to, worry, and above all hope he’d be able to stop Bradan in
time. Dame Vivien had given him a direct command, and per his oath he needed to
obey it—unless she was in immediate danger.

And then…

And then she
was
in
immediate danger.

The change was abrupt. One second,
Bradan’s mind was consumed by lust and his need for their dame’s body, rising
steadily toward the ineluctable end. The next, Bradan’s physical hunger was
satisfied, but his need for something else, something just as primal as sex but
much more irresistible to vampires was amplified, as Aedan had known it would
be.

With his own fear rushing through
him in counterpoint to Bradan’s need, Aedan didn’t think. He threw open the
door into the queen’s chambers and rushed in. He crossed the sitting room, the
small office, and was taken by the barest moment of hesitation at Dame Vivien’s
bedroom door. He didn’t belong in there and had never set foot inside—but now
he needed to. He pushed the half-open door and paused for a second to orient
himself. Even as his eyes fell on the bed, he met Dame Vivien’s gaze. She
gasped as she saw him—or was it because Bradan had just bit her?

Aedan didn’t taste her through the
bond, it didn’t go that far, but he felt the wave of contentment that crashed
through Bradan as her blood hit his tongue. Gritting his teeth, Aedan crossed
the few steps to the bed, gripped Bradan’s shoulders and wrenched him off their
dame and to the floor.

She shrieked and clutched the
blankets, drawing them up to cover herself, though not before the image of her
nude body had imprinted itself in his mind.

“What is wrong with you?” she
shouted, but Aedan wasn’t listening.

He turned away from the bed and
looked down at his brother, sprawled on the floor with his eyes screwed shut.

“Get out,” he said very low, practically
growling. “Get out or I swear by all the Quickening…”

He didn’t need to finish the
threat or put his hands on Bradan again, and was grateful for that small
respite. The horror of realization flooded the bond. Without a word, without
answering Dame Vivien’s quiet, “Brad?” he scrambled to his feet, barely
stopping to grab his pants off the floor before stumbling out of the room.

“What gives you the right?” Dame
Vivien said when Brad had left, her voice shaking in outrage. “Who are you that
you think you can do this?”

Aedan didn’t dare turn toward her.
The anger bursting in her scent didn’t begin to mask the mixed smells of sex
and blood. His control was much better than Bradan’s, but even so he didn’t
dare tempt fate.

“Who I am is your guard,” he said
without turning back to her. “And by my oath, I will do anything—anything at
all—in order to keep you safe.”

He walked out without another
word, before he could add that he would even kill his own twin brother if that
was what was required of him. It’d be the same as killing himself, but for
Vivien, he would.

* * * *

Only by sheer reflex had Bradan
picked up his pants off the floor before storming out of the sitting room. He
fumbled into them on the way down to the first floor—down to the kitchen, where
he stuck his head under the water spout and pumped water over his head, turning
his face sideways so water flooded his mouth and washed away Vivien’s blood.

It had been no more than a few
drops, not even a mouthful, but even after he’d rinsed his mouth three times,
he could still taste it, taste her, and every part of him clamored for more.

He had to go. He couldn’t stay in
the same house she slept in. He didn’t trust himself to be that close.

He rushed out through the back
door and, barefoot on the cool, wet grass, half ran, half stumbled away from
the castle. He could see the shimmer of the shields ahead of him, getting
close, closer. Some tiny part of him shouted a warning before he reached them:
he couldn’t go past the shields. That rule had been drummed into him since he’d
been a child. He’d already made a terrible mistake tonight; he couldn’t add to
it now.

Falling to his knees, he fisted
his hands and found himself striking the ground without quite realizing what he
was doing. He was the one who deserved to be struck.

And he was sure he would be as
soon as Aedan got there.

Without thinking about what he was
doing, he sat back, and drew the knife from the sheath attached to his belt. He
turned it absently between his fingers, watching the shields, close enough that
he could have touched them if he’d reached out.

It wasn’t long before he could
hear quiet steps coming up to him and stopping at a small distance behind him.
He waited for Aedan to come forward, to say something, but seconds passed, then
an entire minute, and still Aedan didn’t say anything or move.

“You were right,” Bradan admitted
in a broken murmur, the truth of the words like acid eroding his heart. “I
should never have let myself be that close to her.” Lower still, he added, “I
could have killed her.”

Aedan finally moved forward, his
steps as silent on the grass as his emotions were through the bond. Bradan
couldn’t read him at all, and it scared him. He felt alone in his own mind,
something that hadn’t happened since he’d returned to Foh’Ran with Vivien. Of
all the ways living in the Otherworld had been different, not having his
brother with him, if only as a presence through the bond, had been what Bradan
hated the most.

Coming up to Bradan, Aedan sat
next to him, his legs crossed and his eyes staring straight ahead.

“I should have stopped you,” he
said with a sigh.

“You tried. I didn’t listen.
Neither did she, but she had no reason to. She doesn’t know what the hunger is
like. I do. I thought I could control it. You told me I couldn’t, but I thought
I knew better. How arrogant can I be, really?”

“No more than me. How arrogant was
I to make that choice for you?”

“What choice?”

“Before she turned me, Ciara made
sure I understood everything I’d gain, but especially everything I’d lose. It
was weeks after I first asked before she agreed and only after I convinced her
that I was ready to go through with it. Weeks. I know that sometimes Makers
take months before they turn someone. And me… me, I chose for you. I didn’t ask
what you wanted. I didn’t say you’d lose your relationship with our dame. I
just did it. I couldn’t imagine a world without you, so I just did it. And now
you’re ready to welcome the sun and end it. Or not even wait that long.”

With that, and before Bradan could
protest he had any such thought, Aedan closed his hand over the silver knife
Bradan held and tugged it away from him.

Aedan’s words put the presence of
the knife in his hands into sharp relief. And why deny anything when he was too
agitated to shield his emotions from the bond, something he’d never been good
at to begin with?

“If you’d given me that choice,”
he said quietly, “I’d have said yes. Whether I had seconds to decide or entire
weeks, if the alternative had been to abandon her and you, I’d have said yes.
Because I’d have believed the same thing I believed until now. That I’d never
hurt her, whatever the circumstances. You could have tried to convince me in
any way you wanted, I’d never have believed it. But tonight I proved it to
myself. She’s not safe around me. And I’d rather die than hurt her.”

“It’s not going to come to that,”
Aedan said, managing to keep his voice low yet fierce.

He turned his face toward Bradan,
and the bond started to let something through: hope. Hope, and the
unconditional affection they’d always shared.

“Now that you know,” he continued,
“you’ll listen to me. Won’t you?”

Bradan nodded. “But is it going to
be enough?” he murmured, raising his knees in front of him and resting his chin
on them. “Maybe you shouldn’t have turned me, never mind giving me a choice or
not. I'm going to hurt her. If I stay next to her, I won’t be able to stop
myself, and maybe next time you won’t be able to stop me.”

“No,” Aedan said strongly. “Don’t
even think that. I’d never let that happen, not to you and not to her. Don’t
you trust me?”

Bradan didn’t reply in words. He
didn’t need to: he could express through the bond that, yes, he did trust his
brother with his life as well as Vivien’s.

He just didn’t trust himself.

* * * *

Vivien had never been as angry in
her life as she was when Aedan followed Brad out without so much as a word of
apology to her. Even when she’d gone to Rhuinn a few days ago, certain that he
was responsible for Brad’s death, her anger had been second to her grief.
Tonight, though, it was immense and all consuming, bordering on rage.

Aedan had stormed in here when he
had to know what he would interrupt, with no regard for her and Brad’s privacy
or modesty. He’d acted like a veritable caveman, barking orders at Brad and
dragging him out of bed—out of Vivien’s bed, where she’d invited him, where he
would be every night with her if she only had her way.

“How dare you?” she said loudly,
certain that Aedan was right outside and waiting for her to be presentable to
lecture her at length. “How dare you try to tell us how to live our lives?”

She stalked through the room and
to the washroom, and was still ranting when she walked out and started throwing
on clothes.

“From the moment Brad and I
started getting close, you’ve been trying to get between us. You’ve thrown
every excuse at us to tell us we couldn’t be together. Because it wasn’t
proper. Ah! Proper! As though this is the Middle Ages and I need anyone
protecting my virtue!”

Jeans and a sweatshirt: she was
well aware that she was dressing in her ‘Otherworld’ clothes, and it was very
much on purpose. Let Aedan remember that she had grown up on Earth, and that
she wouldn’t be cowed by Foh’Ran’s customs—or his delusions that he could
dictate what she could or couldn’t do. Why Brad accepted it, she wasn’t sure.
Because he was younger, maybe? Whatever his reason, his lack of protest against
Aedan’s intrusion only accentuated Vivien’s anger.

“You thought you had the perfect
excuse now, didn’t you?” she asked, throwing the door open and striding through
the small office toward the sitting room. “You thought that Brad being a
vampire like you means you can boss him around and… and…”

She faltered when she found the
sitting room empty. She’d been so sure they’d be in here, or at least Aedan…
She went to the door to her suite and looked out, expecting to find Aedan
standing guard against the wall as usual, but the corridor was empty.

She was tempted to go and look for
them, and give them a piece of her mind—and, yes, to Brad, too, because there
was no reason for him to have fled this way. The castle was large, however, and
they could be anywhere. For all she knew, they might even be outside. Still
angry, though silent now that she didn’t have a target for her ranting, she
returned to her bedroom. She didn’t feel like going to bed like this, but she
didn’t know what else she could do. She wasn’t going to wait like a lovesick
girl for Brad to come back. Why hadn’t he argued back, damn him?