Coffin Girls (Elegantly Undead: Book 1 of the Coffin Girls Witch Vampire Series) (16 page)

His hands found her soft, rounded bottom and began to knead,
to tease, alternating between rubs and feather-light caresses. The suddenness
of her seduction was bringing him to a point. Panting, he pulled away and
looked at her. She had the slightly mussed look of a satisfied woman. Her
cheeks were flushed with wanting; her breasts rose up and down as she struggled
to gain her own breath back, making him want to fill his hands with them. He
was too close to the edge. He didn’t want her quick and fast; not for their first
time.

Chuckling, he leaned in and kissed her gently, slowing her
down with soft caresses as she pushed to dive into the kiss again. “Anais, I
don’t want to rush this. I’ve been carrying around an ache for you for too long
to make this quick. As good as quick will undoubtedly be between us, I want to
savor this moment. I want to peel that dress off you and watch the moonlight
move over your body before I cover it with mine. And I don’t want to do it here
on the steps where the others can spy us.”

Anais grinned and nodded in agreement. “You’re right. We
have too many people that care about us and who will use that as an excuse to
first snoop and then rag at us for days.” Moving back, she looked at him. No,
the spell hadn’t broken. The hunger that kiss had awoken was still there. “I’m
going to exercise a lady’s privilege and choose your room - it’s closer.”

As idiotic as he knew it was, he couldn’t help but preen. “I
can do one better.” He gently pulled her up and into the room she’d just left.
Using magick, he’d teleported his bed and bedding from his accommodation at the
plantation into the room. It stood in the middle of the room surrounded by
candles. 

Lips curved in appreciation, she let a delighted laugh slip
out. “Did I tell you that I’m grateful for your talents?” Her eyes were teasing
him, filled with eagerness.

“No, but you can show me.” He watched her eyes widen as he
used magick to remove her clothing.

“I thought you wanted to peel my clothes off me. I was quite
looking forward to that.” Anais pouted in mock disappointment.

“I’m looking at your appreciation,” he retorted, grinning at
the sight of her – beautiful and bathed in moonlight just as he’d wanted to see
her. He raked a slow, appreciative gaze over her body, loving the way her
nipples hardened at the touch of his eyes. This witch was binding him. Fixated,
Conall croaked out the first word that came to mind, “Áillidh”. He explained
when her brow lifted stopping her, “It’s Gaelic. It means beautiful.”

The sincere wonder in his tone didn’t suit the noncommittal
passion she wanted, “Are words all you’ve got for me lover?”

That was all the invitation Conall required to teleport them
both to the bed.  Reining in the passion that tugged impatiently, he
breathed her in, loving the smell of jasmine infused with need. He took his
time with her, alternating hot, heavy gazes he made sure she felt on her skin
with soothing kisses from the top of her head to her delectable toes. 

Anais found satisfaction in the heat etched on his face,
knowing she was responsible for every gorgeous inch of it - it looked good
there - real good and she wanted to see more of it and of him. “I have some
talents of my own,” she sat up kneeling in front of him on the bed and pulled
him closer to whisper in his ear, purposefully flicking her tongue over the
sensitive area as she spoke, “here, let me show you”. The sound of ripping
clothing filled the room as she used her vampire speed and strength to get him
as naked as she was. Laughing, she easily flipped him onto his back and
proceeded to inspect every inch of him with eyes and mouth. Nibbling and
licking, she subjected him to same sweet torturous ecstasy he’d administered to
her moments ago.

Conall had had enough. His arousal was throbbing, yearning
to get inside her. He wanted little more than to get inside of her and empty
his seed into her. If she kept this up, he’d miss the opportunity to do so. “If
you don’t stop that, we’ll both be sorry.” He flicked his gaze downwards and
ground his teeth when she deliberately gave his straining arousal one swift
lick from hilt to head.

Teeth clenched, Conall bit out, “That’s it, you’ll be sorry
now.” He flipped her over, continuing the match of sexual wrestling and
returned the favor when his tongue found the sensitive bud between her thighs.
He grinned through the act, loving every cry as she came, thrashing wildly
around the bed while he weighed her hips down with his arms so he could
continue his assault on her senses.

Anais had had enough. She felt so completely spent she didn’t
know how she was going to carry on. Breathing deeply she threw insults at him
as a desperate attempt to make him stop. He ignored her, continuing to make her
come. For the first time in her long life, she had a clue why orgasms were
referred to by some as ‘little deaths’. Insults weren’t working in making him
stop so she reverted to begging, “Inside Conall. I need you inside. I can’t
take any more of this.”

In one quick move, he drove himself inside of her and smiled
through his own moan of pleasure as her cries met his in a strange chorus of
sexual need unleashed. All coherence left them as they touched, tasted and
moved over and under the pleasure that pulled at them, danced with them. With
each move, their ecstasy heightened, melding them into one until all that
remained was the most pleasure they’d ever felt. Their magick fused as they
reached the peak, unbelievably increasing their already heightened pleasure.
Crying out in joint release, they allowed themselves to fall blindly into it -
a depth of adulterated bliss.

Pulling in oxygen, Conall maneuvered them so they lay side
by side on the bed. His lips curved in satisfaction; Anais was as limp with
exhaustion from their lovemaking as he was. Conall broke the post-coital ice
first, “This isn’t a line…I’ve never had sex like that before.”

Anais interrupted him, “You complaining about my talents?”
He was about to get serious and she didn’t want it marring the earth-shattering
experience they’d just had.

Sprawled next to her he looked at her as if she were mad,
“Goddess, no! That was undoubtedly the best sex I’ve ever had in seven
centuries of living!” She swatted his hand away inelegantly as he teased her
with light caresses. Light was all he could manage for now. His hormones wanted
her again but he needed a moment for his body to catch up after the work-out
they’d just been through.

“Seven centuries, huh? You’ve had lots of practice. I guess
I didn’t do too bad with only nearly two of them.”

Conall grinned and dropped one on her kiss-swollen lips, “Stop
fishing for compliments. You are indeed talented as you put it.”

“I’ll take that flattery, seeing as seven centuries have
given you a lot to compare me to.”

“Goddess!” Conall raked his hands through his hair, give the
woman a sexual step up and she had the upper-hand. He was fast losing control
of the situation. They’d been equals in their love-making and now he was
feeling like the proverbial dog in the kennel while she looked like a teacher
catching a delinquent student in the act. “Now’s not the time to go into that.”

“I was joking before. I’m curious, I admit, what woman
wouldn’t be if she’d just experienced mind-blowing sex with a supernatural
prince! But your discomfort is making me think that you have something to hide.
Tell me Conall, do you have a harem of wannabe princesses waiting at home for
you?” Anais’ tone dripped with venom, “Or do you have just one at home? One
there and one here; the one here being me? Get yourself a woman on each side of
the ocean? Is that something I must worry about because I warn you,” eyes
flashing, she turned towards him and poked him again, like she had a few nights
ago in the Quarter, vampire hard with every word, “I don’t fall into bed with
someone lightly. This was too good not to do again and I won’t and don’t
share.”

Shaking his head at her, he backed away. What the hell was
happening to her? She was all sweet, funny and extraordinarily passionate one
moment and now he sat in bed with a viperish, psychotic vamp. It was like she’d
been suddenly possessed. Either that or she was tapping into her own Mr Hyde.

Before Conall could attempt to defend his integrity, he
watched in terror as Anais’ eyes rolled back into her head, like a slow motion
scene out of a horror movie. A shrill scream of the most indescribable torture
ripped itself from her throat as she landed on the sheets and began shaking
uncontrollably. Screams flowed from her lips, so loud and raw with pain that he
felt her agony sear him. Her hands were curled up in stiff fists of pain, her
legs were thrashing, tearing the sheets with every jerk until he was sitting in
what looked like confetti. He watched her, frozen in alarm, while the writhing
sent the bits of sheet flying around them – Agony in White Hell.

Springing into action, he called her name to bring her back
to him. Nothing. He invoked the Goddess who remained uncommonly silent to him.
No change. He said a spell to calm her. Still nothing. He wracked his brain for
something else to do, tried to will some of his magick into her only to watch
it ricochet off her like a bullet piercing his soul. He watched the first woman
to snare his heart in centuries of existence battle an unseen demon for her
life. Tears of fear welled up in his eyes as they flashed with panic and
helplessness. The bond they’d just shared during sex was fragmented, shattered
by whatever was eating at her on the inside. He was certain the weird argument
before she fell had been the prelude. He cursed himself – he should’ve picked
up on that.

He wouldn’t quit, couldn’t quit, there had to be something
he could do. He tried again, choking with fear for her. She didn’t respond to
him, no spell, no magick seemed capable of making a difference, of lessening
her agony. She was a witch too, damn it! He should be able to link with her. He
was the fucking prince of witches; he should be able to do something. Fight the
dark magick eating at her with his good magick! He grabbed her, shaking her,
calling her name over and over, going mad with the lack of change in her
condition. Goddess help them both. Conall abruptly moved away. Help. He needed
help. He needed to get her help. Fast. She couldn’t go on like this. No being
would outlast this and he couldn’t afford to have her not survive. Not now. Not
when he’d waited centuries, not when she didn’t yet know what they had between
them. He needed help, so he ran, conjuring clothes as he moved towards the big
house to call his sisters, praying that she’d last long enough for him to get
back to her.

Raulf walked through the gardens from the big house towards
the section of the plantation where the original slave quarters still sat next
to fields that had born thousands of sugar cane in another life time. Raulf had
grown up on the plantation, as had his family, so he knew the land as well, if
not better, than its colonial masters had. Now, an alpha with his own pack of
wolves to manage, he no longer lived here but roots were hard to deny and so he
continued to visit those he viewed as family. Since the arrival of the male
witches, he’d been neglecting his pack duties and had been visiting more often
than not. The pack wasn’t too happy about it but they understood the bonds of
family better than any other species and the women in his family certainly
needed him to watch out for them at the moment. He didn’t trust the witches or
the contingency of vampires that had recently invaded New Orleans.

He grimaced at his new role as watchdog. It wasn’t that he
resented playing baby-sitter to the vampiresses. It was that Anais treated him
like a child even though they both knew that their relationship had progressed
past the stage of childish fantasies. So now, he made his way to the damn witch
cabin. The sisters had come back to the mansion and even their news that Anais
was on her way home and that Conall was with her did not placate Miss Suzette.
His aunt had had a bad feeling gnawing at her since dinner and she would not
rest until all her chicks were safely home. Anais was the only one missing and
he’d been tasked with finding her and bringing her home. So, he guessed, if he
was being crass about it, he was a glorified baby-sitter. Frustration picked at
him, making him surly, despite the stab of guilt that pricked at his conscious.
He loved her and he needed to make sure she was okay. Yet a part of him
rebelled against the reluctantly accepted task he set forth on. Didn’t she say
that she was a vampire and able to take care of herself?

As Raulf was contemplating his bruised heart and ego, a flash
passed him by. His alpha sensed panic and turned to follow. Catching up to the
running man, he ascertained that it was Conall. “What’s going on? Where’s
Anais?”

Conall didn’t have time to stop and answer the wolf’s
questions. Dragging in air as he ran, he shouted out, voice clipped in hurry,
“Anais.”. He took a breath. “In the slave quarters.” Another breath. “I’m going
to get help.” He scoped his immediate vicinity out for any objects he might run
into to; at the speed he was moving, the knock would be hard and would delay
his return to Anais. Daring a look at Raulf, he ordered, panic overwhelming
every feature visible in the night’s light, “Go to her. Stay there.”

Raulf didn’t think. He curved around a big pecan tree and
sprinted. The panic felt by the witch had infected him and called out his wolf.
Rushing, he was barely conscious of the transformation. Clothes ripped and fell
away as he propelled forward towards the slave quarters; first on two legs then
on four. His senses sharpened. Eye sight, made for the woods and swamp of the
bayou allowed him to gracefully and swiftly maneuver the terrain as he sped to
the slave quarters. His sense of smell, heightened to that of a wolf, capable
of smelling prey from miles away, picked up the horrifying stench of Anais’
panic. His enhanced hearing heard her scream, throat hoarse from the sheer
force of the cries being snatched from deep within. It pushed him harder, made
him move as he’d never had before. He found himself bursting through the doors
of the slave cabin in a flash of time.