Dancing Dragon (23 page)

Or a little Nosferatin Light.

I threw a smidgeon towards him, just enough to tone the Dark down, nothing drastic, it was almost an afterthought. I studied his aura and felt satisfied I'd balanced him out a little. It wouldn't be permanent, for that I would have to blast him with Light and intend him to become one of my line. If I touched him, he'd be subject to me, like Samson. If I didn't, but the same intent was there, he would simply balance out his Dark with Light and then choose how to behave.

Normally, I'd only do that to a Dark vampire who was breaking the rules, indiscriminately feeding from and/or killing innocents. Avery was not, or at least right now he wasn't. How was I to know if he didn't drain his meals dry like Alastair and leave the corpses to rot on the pavement in Knightsbridge.

His hazel eyes flashed amber and he let a low growl out from the back of his throat. Some vampire growls can be sexy, some can be frightening and then some can be downright terrifying. I'd put Avery's in the latter category, easily.

“What did you do?” he demanded of me. I flicked a glance at his aura, still shadowed in Dark, but my Light was definitely still holding in there. Stubborn, just like me.

“You gave me Light? How dare you?”

He took a step toward me, I jumped to my feet, tray of scones and empty coffee cup falling to the floor and silver stake in my hand well before Michel had moved. Shit. Even I didn't know I could move that quickly. Avery blinked at my new position, then pulled his teeth back and snarled.

“Stay the fuck out of my head!” I glared at him and added in my mind,
Oh Dark One,
to see if I would get a response.

He pounced, literally flew through the air toward me and met the solid wall of my kindred. Michel's hand went around his throat and he held him still, barely two feet away from my stake. I gave it a little shake in my fingers, letting the light from the room catch the silver. His eyes blazed a brilliant combination of amber, ochre and flashes of jade.

“Get out of my wife's head, Avery,” Michel growled in a low voice.

Avery continued to glare at me and then suddenly, as though a light switch had been flicked, all traces of anger disappeared. He was still cloaked in Dark, but his face relaxed, his body unclenched and his hands brushed the front of his suit flat, as though Michel wasn't still holding him captive by the throat. His eyes returned to hazel, his mouth curved in a beguiling smile and he said, with a deep, sensual drawl, “My apologies. It is an enchanting head, it is difficult to ignore.”

Michel released his throat and visibly relaxed. “Be that as it may, if you trespass again, I shall remind you forcefully who needs whom in this accord, Rousseau.”

“Of course, Michel. I cannot apologise enough.” He turned away from us both, took in his appearance in the mirror above the hearth and adjusted his tie, flicked a hand through his hair and then began stoking the fire.

I looked at his back, then Michel's impassive face, then the very still, very tight lined faces of his vampires and then back to Avery's back. What the fuck just happened?

Later, ma douce,
Michel whispered in my mind and took a seat back on the sofa.

Christopher came in and quietly picked up the pieces of my discarded supper off the floor, I bent to help him, but he flapped my hands away and smiled.

“Unnecessary, mistress, please allow me.” He wouldn't take no for an answer, so I sat back down on the sofa feeling a little stunned, but as soon as Michel's arm came around my shoulder I couldn't help relaxing into the curve of his side and when his lips brushed my neck, my body simply gave up any fight and willingly succumbed to his influence.

You're manipulating me through my body, Michel,
I mentally chastised him.

He didn't reply, just ran a tongue down my neck from my ear to my pulse point and all but had me purring. I knew what he was doing, he was disarming me, forcing me to relax, to forget what had just happened between Avery and me. And how Michel had simply stood down when Avery abruptly switched from Mr Hyde, back to Dr Jekyll. I knew this, but I also wasn't a fool. Whether Avery had stopped plucking my thoughts or not, this was not the time to have Michel on about his strange accord partner, nor to demand why he would have an accord with such a man. I told myself the only reason I let him continue to nuzzle me in front of his men, was simply because now was not the appropriate time to demand answers.

I told myself that, but I think my body had different thoughts entirely.

Finally, I managed to push back against his hold and gave him a decent glare.
Down tiger!
His eyes shot indigo and violet and he forced a chuckle back under control, releasing me from his grasp and allowing me sit back up on my own next to him, with just his hand on my thigh, stroking softly.

Daniel was the first to break the silence, continuing on the conversation as though nothing had happened. That's vampires for you, great at ignoring the bleeding obvious when it suits. “There is absolutely no evidence that they are one and the same. Alastair simply appeared out of nowhere, but nothing I have uncovered to date would indicate he is more than he appears.”

Alain chimed in. “He does wear the amulet though.”

“Are you sure of this?” Avery turned his attention from the fire, which by now was blazing and roaring like a Guy Fawkes bonfire and fixed the French vampire a hazel and amber gaze.

Alain nodded, unperturbed by the Darker vampire's attention. “Quite sure. One of my operatives did manage to infiltrate his boudoir. His lust for blood is not his only failing. He never removes it, not even to shower.”

I was beginning to get a better picture of who was who in this room the longer the conversation continued. Alain was undoubtedly head of Michel's spy network and had been looking into the sudden appearance of Alastair in London and his claim to the Master of the City role. I was guessing that Daniel was not part of Alain's team, but another spy in amongst Michel's line. Perhaps a lone wolf who could achieve what others could not. And Christopher, well poor old Christopher was clearly Michel's trusted London based servant. Perhaps this was Michel's property after all, even though I shuddered at the thought that he'd own a house as bleak as this one.

That left old Dark One. Not of Michel's line, but sharing an accord with him and trusted enough to spend the daylight hours in the same building as Michel and his men. Usually a business associate - and that's what accord partners normally are - would only be invited in during night time hours. Vampires are stronger in the dark, they also can retreat and withdraw to other locations if needed. The fact that Avery was here, when the vampires were in effect pinned down by the sun, was unusual.

All of these thoughts had fluttered through my head in lightning quick succession, but by the time I had reached my incomplete conclusions about Avery, his eyes were back on me. Studying me, watching me, freaking me out just a little. Was he back inside my mind? I chose to ignore him, for now. Encouraging his interest seemed likely to be an act of defiance I would regret in due course.

“If he wears the amulet, then that is our proof,” Daniel added, getting up to refill his drink at the intricately carved cabinet in the corner.

“Not necessarily,” Michel answered. “Perhaps the amulet was discovered somewhere. Perhaps the return of the Fey has meant the return of the amulet and Alastair has just stumbled upon the relic by mistake. Can we even be sure it is the
taufr
?”

Both Alain and Daniel shook their head, but Avery said, in a low voice, “I would be able to, if I was close enough.”

Michel shot him a puzzled look. “How, pray tell, Avery, can you discern a fey relic?”

“I have my skills, Michel, you would be wise to remember that.”

A threat? I couldn't imagine Michel not bristling at that. But then, he didn't, he just nodded and took another sip of his Scotch. I let a little breath out soundlessly at his response - or lack thereof - to Avery's outright challenge. Avery's eyes transferred slowly from Michel to me and he smiled. The sort of smile that made you squirm; possessive, controlling, in charge. Just what the hell did Avery have over Michel?

Avery turned back to Michel and added, “How did you expect to get close to him, Michel? You have had little success so far. He has slipped through every net you have set, yet you have assured me, you can track him. I think it is time, old friend, to disclose whatever weapon you believe to possess.” His eyes flicked to me, briefly, then swiftly returned to Michel, who was now sitting very still beside me on the couch.

Just how
did
Michel plan to track down Alastair if his spies had been unable to, save a visit to his boudoir, where I did not want to know what Alain's operative had had to endure? Alastair had not been seen on the night time club scene, according to Daniel, so how do you catch a Dark vampire who has control of the city and is doing whatever he damn well pleases?

Oh shit. By using the
Sanguis Vitam Cupitor
, that's how.

I turned to look at Michel and Avery started to laugh. A full bodied deep laugh, it bounced around the room, but far from leaving me enamoured, it left only cold desolation in its wake. He stopped only long enough to speak, his voice rich and deep and full of promise.

“Well, well, well, Michel. This will be fun indeed.”

From the moment I came into the first of my Prophesied powers, namely the
Sanguis Vitam Cupitor
powers, I feared that Michel would find a way to use me. To use the power that I now possessed. I had at times felt like a tool in Michel's arsenal, something to be cherished, not just for the place I held in his heart, but because of what I could do for him.

Michel has always sought power. I knew this before I even joined with him. It's a vampire trait, but one he has perfected over the centuries. He's a power junkie, he seeks it, he prizes it, he craves it. Gregor had tried to use that knowledge as a way to put a wedge between me and my kindred, but I had always known that this was Michel. Power hungry to the nth degree. I knew it, I had thought I had accepted it.

Until now.

This was the first time since he held me in his arms and the
Sanguis Vitam Cupitor
powers flooded through me, that he has fulfilled my greatest fear of what he could do.

Sure, he has hurt me in many ways, he has dominated and controlled me, he has cast me aside when I had made that final heart giving move to let him in completely, he has punished me in many forms, physically and emotionally harmed me to make a point. But none of it, none of it at all, ever came close to this moment of treachery. None of it hurt as much as right now.

“Leave us,” Michel's deep voice reached me down the dark tunnel I had retreated to, slamming into my head with the force of a two tonne truck.

I knew his eyes were boring into me, I also knew the vampires in the room had sensed, if they couldn't in fact already see with their eyes, that I was mad, fuming. My Light had begun to pulse around my body, not just a flash of brightness, but a physical wave of power; undulating, throbbing, vibrating through the room. It touched each and every one of them and I wasn't playing nice.

Michel's vampires made a quick retreat, flashes of colour as they streamed out the door, their relief at getting away from me palpable. Avery walked slowly, almost caressing the waves of my Light as he passed, an intimate gesture that was lost on Michel - his eyes all for me - but not lost on me. Avery's amber and jade filled eyes held mine as he glided by, barely two feet away, his hand outstretched surfing the waves of my power as they pulsated around him. His smile said it all.

When the door closed softly behind him, my Light exploded through the room, pinning Michel to the sofa, rattling the glasses at the bar, the windows, the lamp bases and anything else it found worth shattering as it poured through the air around us. I let it build and build and build, and then in one final fit worthy of a toddler's temper tantrum, I let it expand and burst from within me, until not a glass surface in the parlour was left intact.

If he wanted power, I'd give him power.

Deathly silence engulfed us in the wake of all that screeching, shattering glass. I was breathing heavily, my pulse pounding in my skull, adrenaline coursing through my veins, my fists held tightly at my sides, my jaw rigid, my body tense. I was so mad, so full of rage, I wondered briefly if the Dark had taken over and the burst of my Light just now was the Dark banishing it for good from inside of me. I quickly sent my senses internally and breathed a sigh of relief when I felt all of my Light, every single fragment of it, sitting within, waiting, comforting, filling me up and pushing against the Dark.

Even in a rage-filled tantrum my Light prevailed. Clearly evidence of
where there is Light, there is always Dark and where there is Dark, there is always Light.

I hadn't looked at Michel since I had sent my Light punishingly through the room, I half turned to face him now, fully prepared to do battle, my Light still thrumming in a menacing warning around my body. When my eyes found his, I almost crumbled, but my anger was too great to be affected by the look of panic and worry that graced his face.

He had stood, as soon as my Light had left him, breathing heavily, body shaking with the after effects of all that piercing power I had sent his way. His hands were out in front of him in a placating manner, palms open, side by side, willing me to calm. It wasn't working.

"
Luce," he began, his voice rough with emotion. I had never heard him call me by my nick-name. Never. "Hear me out." My Light pulsed, a single beat of warning. There was nothing he could say that would make this OK. "Please, just hear me out."

He didn't wait for me to answer, he didn't wait for me to blast him again with my Light, he charged on as if his life, his world, depended on getting the words out before I turned my back on him. The desperation apparent in his voice.

"I would never put you in a situation like this, if it was not beneficial to us."

Simple words which so easily could have been pushed aside. A tumble of sounds to placate. But, one word stood out amongst the ordinary, one word hung in the air like a chiming bell.

"What did you just say?" I asked in a whisper, my Light diminishing with every consequent breath.

He took a step closer - slowly - recognising I may be about to take the olive branch he had offered. "I would never ask you to do this, if it was not necessary," he said softly.

I shook my head. "No, that's not what you said."

Michel looked uncertain for a moment, but quickly returned to concerned.

I swallowed thickly, my breathing a little rapid in the wake of all that Light, but I also realised my Light had diminished to practically nothing, as had my anger. Replaced by a warmth and a hint of a promise of love.

"You said 'us', Michel." My voice sounded as breathless as me. He looked at me with a little confusion, that slowly morphed to hope.

"I did," he said, simply.

"That is the first time you have ever used 'us' in this regard."

I had got used to Michel's singular focus in all that he did. I knew I was part of his life, I knew he accepted me there, but he had never once voiced the unity that single word evoked now. In all his power plays it had always been about him, or his line. His possessions, his desires, his end game. Logically, I knew that included me. I am Bonded to him, I am a part of him now. But I had never had him admit it openly. To say that simple word which changed absolutely everything for me.

Vampires put a lot of stock in words. They don't say something unless they mean it. They can trick and be devious, they can act any manner of ways to achieve what they want, but words... words hold a weight humans rarely see.

"
Ma douce,
" he said, stepping closer still. He now stood within a foot of me, our eyes locked on each other. A small amount of magenta cast the perfect hue across his iris. "When I see the future, I only see
us
."

I felt all the tension leave my body in a beautiful rush of warmth, my heart expanded until I was sure it could no longer fit inside my chest. My eyes burned with unshed tears. I had even brought a hand up to my lips, a futile attempt to hold my breath inside. Michel took the last step needed to reach me and tenderly ran a hand down the side of my face. His eyes were swirling violet flecks, in amongst the magenta tint, a single tear traced a crooked pattern down his cheek.

That tear nearly brought me to my knees. Michel never cried. With a small gasp, I let my own tears fall and grabbed him by his shirt collar, bringing my lips to his. Warm breath washed over me, the smell of the ocean, a salty breeze. His scent engulfed me as I wrapped my arms around his neck and delved my tongue between his lips. Our tears mingled together, down our cheeks, across our jaws, into our mouths and he moulded his body to the length of mine, kissing as passionately as I was, giving everything he could back, but barely matching my desire, my happiness, my joy that he felt the same way as me.

I shouldn't have needed that confirmation. We have been together now a relatively long time. There have been hurdles, but we always overcome them. Experience should have told me all I needed to know. But, I am not always confident when it comes to affairs of the heart. I know what I feel for Michel, but it was not easy admitting those emotions. It took a lot of courage, a lot of self doubt and a lot of time. I should have expected the same of Michel, but somehow I hadn't.

I needed him to say it and I hadn't realised how much.

And now he had and my heart simply soared.

"
Ma douce,"
Michel whispered against my neck as he pulled me toward the fireplace and the thick rug that lay in front of the hearth.

He continued to lay kiss upon kiss across my skin as he lowered us both to the floor. "You mean everything to me, I cannot lose you. You are my world."

After another pause, a swallow, a soft kiss against my cheek. “
Tu es ma petite lumière. Ma lumière belle, douce.
”

His mouth when he kissed me again was so soft, so careful, so reverent, his tongue worshipful as it swept between my teeth. His hands so appreciative as they roamed my body, touched my skin, caressed my flesh. Then he lay me back down on the plush carpet, the fire crackling to our side and began kissing his way down my neck towards my breasts through the thin material of my T-Shirt. This was the Michel I had missed and craved.

We'd been through a claiming that had stolen his control and made him demanding when it came to sex, but we had made it to the other side and sex had been more than just an animalistic response to a primal urge. It had been gentle and caring and loving and everything you imagined making love to your beloved should be. But, since trying to reconcile after his recent distance - his mistrust, due to Erika betraying him - he had been a different man. Last night and the five hours of glorious but somewhat demanding sex was proof of that. I still loved him, amazing considering what he had been putting me through. But I did. I loved all of him. The caring, considerate lover and that, the vampire determined to prove I was his and no other's. I loved the Light in him and alarmingly, the Dark within too.

Despite loving all of him, however,
this
was the Michel I knew was always there. Fighting to get out from behind the Dark.

When he slowly entered me - our clothes having somehow been discarded yet I had no recollection how -  his eyes held mine, every movement a careful, languid motion, both our breaths seeping out as he fully penetrated me, filling me up beyond capacity, stretching me to accommodate all of him, taking his time and making me feel every hard, long inch.

“Michel,” I whispered, as he began to rock back and forth.

He smiled, his eyes shining a violet and amethyst mix, his fangs slowly elongating and peeking beneath his upper lips.

“What would you have of me,
ma lumière belle, douce
?” he whispered, running his tongue over my neck, from my pulse point to my ear and then following it up with a gentle nip. “Faster?” He didn't speed up. “Harder?” He didn't increase his force as he gently, slowly thrust again inside me. He pulled back and moved a hand beneath my thigh, bringing my left leg up and over his shoulder, then repeating the process with my right. “Deeper?” He husked, inching inside me. I whimpered and writhed beneath him. “Ah, deeper it is.” He thrust hard and slow, but deeply inside, I could feel him pulsing slightly as far as he had ever been before within, as he held himself still, his breath a little ragged. “Deep enough?” he managed between slightly gritted teeth.

I smiled up at him - probably a little wickedly - and then rolled my own hips against his groin, making him shudder and convulse against me, his eyes closed, his breath hitched, he lowered my legs to wrap them around his body and then he started rocking his hips again, thrusting in and out, rubbing against every spot on me that craved contact. His chest against my breasts, his mouth against my neck, his arm around my shoulders, supporting the bulk of his weight, but cocooning me inside his embrace. I felt engulfed by him; his presence, his scent, him. And I was in heaven.

He pulled back to look at me, still moving a seductive motion inside. "You are beautiful," he whispered. "Perfect," he moaned, closed his eyes again and let himself fall into the rhythm of our bodies combining.

The orgasm came swiftly, every inch of my body receiving beautiful rushes of sensation. From his proximity, his slow, unhurried pace, the smell of him, to the sound of his hitched breath, the small moans that escaped his lips, the swirl of amethyst that graced his eyes when he held mine again. I was consumed by all of him and the orgasm was just my natural reaction to it all.

It was beautiful. This was beautiful. I had never felt as close to Michel as I did right then. The room could have been filled with a choir of singing angels and it wouldn't have been more breathtaking than Michel making love to me right then.

Our pace picked up, still sensual, still tender, but more and more passion was seeping in, as though neither of us could get enough, fast enough. We both wanted more. I felt every single movement, every single part of him, throughout my entire body. But he was slowly losing control. God, how I wanted him to. How I wanted to watch him come.

It built slowly, but seemed to arrive faster than my mind could comprehend. His pace quickening, until, with a groan of pure need and hunger, he began rocking back and forward seeking his own release, wrapped up in his own glorious sensations. His loss of control was captivating. I may have craved the gentler Michel, but this, this ability to make him lose control, was what made me sing. Was what set me free.