Dancing Dragon (11 page)

She left quietly, with her head hung low. She'd obviously failed her master and would pay for it. Not my problem. Michel's mind was still open to me and I felt his anger, his excitement and his blood lust merging with a more fervent hunger for me. Feeding to a vampire is very sexual, but can be controlled for day to day needs, but mix that up with a power play, a little confrontation and vampire anger management issues, and you've got a recipe for one extremely turned on vampire. He may not have wanted her, but now he definitely wanted me.

I watched him pick up the phone with his left hand and settle back down on the couch. I wanted to say something to soothe him, to make him know it was all right, he'd done well. I wasn't feeling threatened by the
Iunctio
's
attempts to seduce him, he was mine and he'd proved it. But the words were stolen from my mouth as I watched his right hand slip down the front of his white shirt, pushing his deep blue silk tie aside, undoing his trousers, revealing a very obvious tenting to his black boxers.

“
You know,
ma douce,
” he whispered over the phone, as his hand released his hard sex from the confines of his boxers and he repositioned himself on the sofa for a better angle, then wrapped his large fist around his shaft and started to pull slightly, just a bit. I was mesmerised and my breath started coming in ragged bursts. “It is your scent I smell now, it is your blood I taste, so rich, so sweet, so full of life and Light.” Another tug on his rock hard erection, a small pearl of moisture at its tip. He groaned slightly and I think I may have whimpered. “I can picture your hair, right now, how it would look in the lights, bent over me, in front of me right here.” He paused, I could hear him swallow, his breath came a little faster, his movements increased, the long, thick length of him swelling even more. “Your mouth is one of the sweetest parts of your body, it is made to wrap around me, suck me, take me.” He bucked slightly at that last, obviously getting a clear image of just that in his head, but all I could see was what he was showing me, his movements increasing in speed, his cock so hard and big and his muscles in his abdomen bunching, readying for release.

“Tell me how wet you are right now,” he breathed unevenly down the line.

My hand immediately went between my thighs, my fingers finding swollen and wet folds. I sent the sensations I was feeling back towards him, let him feel what my fingers were, how ready for him my body was and then started playing with myself and sending him images of my legs spread, my hand and fingers at work and my body arching off the bed.

“
Yes,” I heard him breathe. “Come for me,
ma douce
. Let me feel you come.”

It wasn't hard, I could still see see him pumping himself, how close he was to the edge, how hard and full his sex had become, how urgently he wanted to let the release wash over him and how much control it was taking to wait for me. I cried out as an orgasm shook me, the best self induced orgasm I have ever managed and watched through the images he sent me, somehow managing to keep his eyes open in order for me to see what he was doing to himself, as his hot seed sprayed up and over his hand and his trousers, and I think, all over the coffee table a metre away too.

He called out my name as he came, then finally let his eyes close and savoured the moment, his breath uneven and harsh down the line.

Eventually, when he had got himself together, he whispered huskily. “
Je t'aime, ma douce.
Now sleep.”

I smiled at the half hearted command and whispered back, “I love you too.” Then shut the phone off and had to play with myself all over again. Phone sex with Michel, I couldn't help falling asleep with a big smile on my face.

I did manage a few hours sleep, but before it had even reached midday, I was woken with an urgent pull. I groggily brushed hair out of my eyes and tried to home in on the signal. It took me a couple of attempts, but after a minute or so it was obvious that the pull wasn't local, not even in Wellington. So, I took a deep breath, somehow sensing before I had even entered that black void before Dream Walking and
seeking
, that this felt familiar and was no doubt going to be very bad. I sent my senses out and located the Dark signature of the pull.

It was the ancient vampire I met recently, same location, Knightsbridge in London and he had already killed one human and was about to tuck in to another. I tried to sense any other vampires nearby, but came up with nothing. He was alone at least, but to have managed so much death and destruction already meant there was no Nosferatin in the vicinity. Or they were busy. I'd have to have a chat with
Citysider
, the Nosferatin in charge of our website and based in London. This was the second time my talent had called my attention to this vampire, as though it was trying to tell me something. But more importantly, if
Citysider
and his corps of London Nosferatin weren't even stopping this vamp, then what the hell were they doing?

I filed that thought, slipped out of bed and shoved on some jeans and a sweatshirt, then slipped my feet into sneakers, no socks. I wasn't going to Dream Walk to London in my shortie PJ's and nothing else. It was winter over there, I'd freeze my butt off. I grabbed my stake from under my pillow and lay myself back down on top of the covers, then let my body sink into that black nothingness and follow the undeniable pull.

I came to standing a good half dozen feet away from the vampire, his back was to me and now two bodies lay at his feet. He was bent over a third and there were still two more glazed Norms standing to his side. A bit hungry then?

Normally, the older the vampire, the less they needed to feed, but they certainly have the ability to be gluttons, and just like humans and their food, a vampire can over indulge in blood. It's all down to appetite. A crazed rogue can become fevered by blood lust and manage to consume two or three humans completely before passing out in a drunken haze. I didn't get the sense that this vampire was a rogue. He was too well maintained, beautifully dressed in an uber-expensive made-to-measure suit this evening, no jeans and leather today, but looking as equally as attractive in high end business wear as he had done in his bad boy billionaire outfit.

This time I didn't so much as picture him riding a
Harley Davidson
as driving a
Maserati
or
Aston Martin
though. He smelt good too, even from here I could get the faint scent of an expensive and alluring cologne. This guy reeked money and possessions, and yet here he was feasting uncontrolled on more than just one human. He couldn't sense me, nor hear me in this realm, but I was sure he could see me, he'd proved that on my last visit with him, so I was pleased I had come to behind him and not in front.

I fingered my stake and was just gearing up to finish this sucker once and for all, never mind the fact that I was taking advantage of his distraction and staking him through the back, something I would normally have felt a twinge of unease about - I mean even rogues should have the chance to see me coming - but tonight I just wanted this to end.

I took three steps towards him, raised my stake ready for the killing blow then heard a scraping sound a dozen feet in front of him. At first I thought it was just litter on the ground, a tin can rolling in a slight breeze, but then we were in Knightsbridge and there's just not too much litter to be had in this neighbourhood. And when I did glance up, I realised it had been an intentional sound, to get the vamp's attention. We weren't alone and the guy standing staring past the now stiff and still ancient vampire, had eyes only for me.

What the hell? He shouldn't have been able to see me. He wasn't a Nosferatin and he wasn't a vampire, he looked and felt human to my senses, but there was something else. I couldn't put my finger on it, but his gaze held mine with ease. For the life of me, I couldn't turn away. He was at least six feet tall, had large vivid green eyes, chiselled cheek bones as though they had been made by gods and his hair was short, a spiky blonde, standing in tufts, but it didn't make him look young and naïve, it made him look mischievous and more than experienced.  He was dressed in jeans and a casual grey jersey, the v-neck showing golden skin at the base of his throat. His legs were muscular, as was the rest of him, not like a vampire - not over done - but as though he worked out, but wasn't ruled by it.

But it wasn't his appearance that held me spellbound, it was something else. He hummed in power, I couldn't see his aura, but I felt it. And the look he gave me, with his vivid green eyes, was one of a challenge. He was asking me, could I do it? Could I stake the vampire with him watching nearby?

I couldn't. Not because he was watching, that I could have handled, but because he held me still with that wicked, mischievous grin on his face. It promised fun and adventure and a hell of a lot of trouble.

Thankfully, or not, the spell was broken by the ancient vampire, who had by this time followed the gaze of the guy to where I stood and now loomed over me a couple of feet away.

“Not you again,” he said in a low voice, looking me directly in the eyes.

Crap.

He sprang in the next instant, fangs down and red glow rimming his topaz eyes. I reacted instinctively and spun away from his outstretched hands, bringing my arms across my body, crossing my legs at my ankles and practically flying in a spin across the small courtyard we were in. I landed in a crouch, some distance from the now surprised vampire, stake up, ready for his next move.

“She is impressive, Alastair,” the guy, now to my right hand side, said casually. A quick glance showing me he was leaning against a shop building, arms crossed over his chest, the picture of casual ease, but his smile was all imp.

The ancient, Alastair, just growled. “I am getting sick of you disobeying my orders, Nosferatin. You are a visitor in my city, you will obey my rules.”

“Your city?” I asked, knowing full well that the Master of London City was a vamp by the name of Boris. Yeah, Boris. Go figure.

“Yes.” His yes was elongated, the 's' coming out like a hiss.

“What happened to Boris?” I asked, thinking if we were going to have a conversation I might as well play along and see where it went.

“I did,” he replied with some measure of pride in his voice.

Shit. None of Michel's vamps had mentioned a change in Master of the City in London and that would normally be big news on the
Iunctio's
network. Alastair was either playing under the radar, or the
Iunctio
were covering this all up.

“
So, you're head honcho now? What, did you forget the
Iunctio's
rules?” I asked, tossing my stake in my hand and letting the light in the courtyard catch the silver as it spun.

“
I am above the
Iunctio
.”

I laughed, a short huff of a laugh. “You must be crazy.”

The imp guy chuckled. Alastair gave him a glare and returned a frosty look at me.

I cleared my throat. “Look I don't know what your beef is...”

“Beef?” the imp guy interrupted.

I just ignored him and went on. “...but this eating until they're dead thing, is just not kosher, my friend.”

“Kosher?” Imp guy. “Does she actually speak English?”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, where has this guy been hiding?

“This may be your city now, but I can't ignore these deaths. If you think I can turn a blind eye, then you don't know Nosferatins well.”

Alastair laughed, a harsh, sharp sound in the air around us. So far he hadn't used any of his
Sanguis Vitam
on me, he'd been playing, of course, like a cat with a mouse. I should have been more careful, it's not like this is my first rodeo or anything, but he'd seemed amenable to a conversation, so I'd been going with that.

But suddenly the air around me vanished, a complete vacuum of oxygen. I tried to pull something into my lungs, anything to inflate them, but came up with dead space. My mouth no doubt open in a gaping maw, my stake all but forgotten at my feet as my hands frantically scratched at my throat, trying uselessly to make air flow down my windpipe. My eyes watered, my chest ached, my head pounded and I couldn't think of a thing to do. He had stolen my air and what could I do to fight back?

Nothing.

Not a damn thing.

He watched the scene before him with casual disinterest. Barely showing any signs of acknowledgement of what was playing out in front of him, his eyes left me after what felt like an eternity and returned to the unconscious half eaten human at his feet. He glanced back up at me again and smiled, a cruel twist of his lips, then keeping eye contact crouched down and lifted the human to his mouth. His fangs entered seamlessly and he immediately started to pull on the human's blood.

I watched in impotent horror as his throat convulsed, swallow after swallow and as the colour in the human changed from a pale white, to a ghostly grey, to a tinge of mottled blue. I knew the instant he died, it had taken less time than my suffocation.

White light began to appear before my eyes, my knees buckled and I landed hard against the pavers, as Alastair reached for another human and began to drain him dry too. I tried to focus on my frantic heartbeat, tried to get myself to fall back down that black void to my body, but panic had taken over. I was light headed and clammy, I ached in my chest and the world was starting to turn black.

I could still see Alastair draining his supper and then the jeans clad legs of the imp guy stood in front of me and he crouched down to look in my face, brushing a strand of hair off my cheek, his vivid green eyes dancing in the moonlight. The touch of his fingers on my skin made me jerk and had I had breath enough, I would have gasped. An electric current shot from his fingertips right through my body, making it tingle and come alive, despite the lack of oxygen in its cells.

He looked momentarily shocked and then a quirk of his lips.
“Well, well. You are a
mœðr
.” He ran his hand in front of my face, palm out a bare centimetre from my skin, I could feel the warmth coming off the long, thin fingers. And suddenly I could breathe.

I fell to the ground gasping loudly, bent over, hands and knees on the pavers, great big heaving breaths tearing down my windpipe and gratefully filling up my lungs. Alastair dropped his latest meal and growled loudly.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, storming over to us. The imp guy, turned slowly, almost casually and placed himself between me and the now livid ancient vampire. “I intend for her to be dead, Lutin. You play a very dangerous game.”

“Games have always been my forte, Alastair. You should know that,” Lutin, the imp guy, responded in a strangely melodic voice. Alastair stopped in his tracks, looking for all the world like he was stuck in cement and trying to battle it.

“You try my patience, imp,” Alastair ground out between closed teeth.

“And you forget who I am, vampire.” Lutin was now glowing, a Light so similar to mine, I couldn't stop myself reaching out to it, touching it, acknowledging it. It was beautiful, it was everything I thought my Light must look like. It called to me like sweet music on the air. I wanted to dance. I wanted to sing. I wanted to wrap his Light around me and never, ever let it go. What was wrong with me?

Lutin spun on his heel and stared at me, a strange look passing over his features, wonderment? Then reschooled his face into a lazy, sexy, mischievous smile. “How unexpected and yet... intriguing,” he announced, making me retract my hand and take a shuffling few crab moves back. His eyes tracked me and he laughed quietly, flashing me a smirk.

He turned back to Alastair, who was still immobile in the invisible cement.

“She is mine, Master of the City. She now affords my protection.”

The look on Alastair's face was comical. He was stunned beyond belief. It took him a good twenty seconds to recover himself and then he smiled, a wicked, knowing smile.

“You bite off more than you can chew, Princeling. This one belongs to a powerful master, I smell him on her. She wears his marks. A vampire I myself have had the distinct displeasure of knowing. If I were you, I would forget her and move on. Plenty more fish in the sea.”

“Fish?” Lutin asked puzzled, then shook his head. “It is not as simple as that. When a 
mœðr
is discovered, all of my realm would die to protect her, and this one,” - he turned back to flash me another impish grin - “is tuned, you could say, to me.” He returned to look at the ancient vampire. “I would consider it a favour if you let her leave.”

“A favour?” Alastair asked, a look of excitement crossing his features. “A favour to be returned from your kind? Or from you? Prince of
Ljósálfar
?”

Lutin's shoulders squared, his chin came up and the beautiful, captivating, mesmerising Light he had accumulated around him began to swirl in a dizzying display of flashes. Alastair shielded his eyes with an arm thrown over his face, even I had to squint to see through it.

“From me, vermin, but tread carefully, my favours are not something to test.” He waited for that to sink in then said. “Do you accept?”

Alastair nodded, a look of disgust clearly evident on his features. These two may have been working together, but there was no love lost here.

“Good,” Lutin said, still in that slightly melodic voice. “Now be gone and take your trash with you.”

To my utter disbelief the ancient vampire, the one who had stolen my breath with a simple thought, the new Master of London City, obeyed. Picking up his stash of now dead humans and flashing away into the night.

Lutin let his Light diminish, allowing it to reach out and wrap around me, making adrenaline shoot through me and electric tingles wash from head to toe. I instinctively reached for it as it pulled languidly back from my skin, but clenched my fingers in an effort to disguise my bizarre attraction. He cocked his head at the after effect of his power, no doubt taking in my flushed cheeks, slightly parted lips and uneven breathing.

“Let me look at you,
elska
,” he said softly, kneeling down on the pavers at my side and reaching up to brush more hair out of my eyes.

His voice was no longer that melodic sound, still beautiful, but not captivating like it had been. I got the impression that the melody was a form of power, he wasn't using power on me now, but for the life of me I couldn't move away. I stared up into his shockingly vivid green eyes and couldn't stop myself from falling in, deep.

He was more than just stunning. More than just beautiful. When I looked at him, I felt like I needed nothing else to live. No air. No water. No food. Just to gaze upon his eyes and to feel his Light and all would be right. All my needs met. All my desires fulfilled. All my life complete.

“Who are you?” I managed, in a decidedly husky voice. I tried to clear my throat, but I don't think it would have helped.

He laughed, a delightfully amused sound. “You are perfect, aren't you,
elska.
I had not thought it possible, certainly not so quickly upon returning to your world, but” - he purposely reached out and ran a finger down my cheek, the electric shock I felt even more intense than before for some reason and I gasped out loud, but then so did Lutin - “the evidence is irrefutable.”

“Who are you?” I asked more firmly. Damn it, this guy was starting to give me the heebee-jeebees. He might have saved my arse back there, but something was just so damn not right about him.

“All in good time, little Nosferatin. First, you need rest. My Light can be taxing when you have not been accustomed to it.”

I bristled. Who was he to talk about being accustomed to Light? “I have my own Light. I'm well
accustomed
to Light.”

He laughed, that amused laugh again. “Shall we see? Shall we duel with our Lights now and find out who is stronger? How does yours manifest,
elska
? What is its natural state? I could imagine I would like it, there is something a little naughty about you. Mine,” - he laughed again - “is reckless, impulsive and a little wild. A bit like me. Together they would be - how shall I say? - magical.” He touched my cheek again, sending electrical pulses through both our bodies, delicious, wanton impulses. “Oh my,” he said, breathlessly. “Shall we make magic,
elska
?”

“Who the hell is
elska
?” I demanded, starting to get pissed off with all this touchy-touchy, feely-feely crap, despite how much my body craved another shot of that electricity and how my hand itched to reach out and touch his Light in return.

He glanced down at my closed fist and smiled. Bastard, he could tell I wanted to touch him too. “
Elska
,” - he reached out deliberately and took my hand, making me collapse in a puddle of goo, begging for more - “is
love
in our language.”

“I am not your love,” I panted, clinging to his hand.

He laughed again, I was starting to hate that amused laughter, just about as much as I was hating my reaction to this strange, strange man.

“
Oh, sweet
elska
, you are my love, it has been destined before we were born. My people only have one
elska
in their lives.
There are more
mœðr
, but to find one's
elska
in amongst them is rare. Rare indeed. You recognised my
ljós
, my Light. Only my
elska
can do that." He brought my hand up to his lips, his green eyes sparkling a wicked glint. "Watch," he whispered and then kissed the back of my hand, a small amount of Light spreading over the spot his lips connected with, but I couldn't tell if it was my Light or his.

I'm not quite sure what happened next, but when I came back to myself I was wrapped around the strange Light impish man who spoke words in a foreign tongue I couldn't identify, and made me feel like my body had been dormant until he arrived. My legs were around his hips, my arms crushing his broad, muscled chest to mine, my fingers in his short spiky hair, gripping what little they could and my tongue was down his throat.