Everdark (5 page)

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Authors: Elle Jasper

Tags: #Romance, #Contemporary, #General, #Paranormal, #Fiction

BOOK: Everdark
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I kissed his Adam’s apple. “You’re a prince. I’ll be right back.” I rolled off the quilts, blindly grabbed the short cotton dress I wore over my swimsuit, and pulled it over my head and bare body.
“Thought you weren’t modest,” Eli said. “No one on this island but us. You could run naked.”
At the tent’s open doorway, I turned and looked at him. Arm bent, head propped on the heel of his hand, Eli watched me like a hungry wolf. I grinned. “I trust your brothers about as much as I trust Riggs. They’re all pervs. I’ll be right back.”
Eli’s laughter followed me out into the night.
 
I ran, and I ran hard—no warm-up jog, no stretching—I didn’t need a warm-up; just a full-out, haul-ass run from the moment I stepped out of the tent. Sand and shell bits, and probably an unfortunate fiddler or ghost crab or two crunched beneath my bare feet as I tore up the shoreline, and the faster I ran, the more invigorated I felt. It took a lot for my lungs to burn any more, so I ran on as if I could literally run forever, fast, furious, my thighs and calves pumping, my arms swinging fiercely. It was . . . freeing—well, almost freeing. My mind still ran rampant, and my heart, well . . . It still chugged sluggishly along, in complete contrast with my body’s motion. I’m not sure it would ever pump fast again. Weird. I felt adrenaline, but you’d never have known it with my body’s response. Preacher and Gilles said it was the strigoi venom—a side effect that would never leave me; just one of many, so they said. I’m still discovering them. Right now? I didn’t feel like attacking anyone. I didn’t seem to have a craving digging at me from the inside out. I wasn’t sure if that was because I was on this barrier isle alone, with just Eli, or if it meant I finally had run the d.t.’s course. Still, the discovery of each and every strange tendency was sort of like opening presents at Christmas. There was always something you didn’t expect. Sort of like how I was involved with a family of guardian vampires whose own DNA had been altered by centuries of hoodoo herbs and magic; it still boggled my brain to see Eli out in the sun, in the middle of the day, looking like the rest of the world. Well, minus the fact that he was painfully beautiful. You know what I mean, though—Hollywood’s concept of vampire’s doesn’t quite cover what’s really out there. I hadn’t once seen Eli rise slowly from a coffin, or even wear a black cape with a red lining. My vampire needed only a good nap during the day to function. His skin didn’t catch on fire in the sunlight and he not only ate food, but peed—if he drank a lot of beer. Weird.
I wasn’t sure exactly how big the barrier island was that we were on, but I ran around it three times before I stopped. I walked into the surf, the water lukewarm as it lapped at my thighs, and I stared out across the darkness, toward the open sound. There was the tiniest sliver of moon; everything was in shadows except the white, bleached-out sand. Heat lightning (I’m not sure if that’s the scientific term for it, but it’s what Seth and I called it growing up) followed the rumbling thunder and snaked across the black sky in thin silver web threads, and it would throw just enough of a surreal glow over the area to let me know what was out there, beyond the sand, water, palms. Inside my head, my mind whirled.
Victorian Arcos concerned me. I hadn’t heard his voice in my head since that one time, when I’d first awakened on Da Island after being rescued from Bonaventure. I’d not mentioned it to anyone—not even to Eli. Just knowing Victorian was alive and free scared me. I wasn’t scared of him—not physically, anyway. Not anymore. It was a different type of fear; maybe even fear of myself, and my response to him. I didn’t even like to think of it, or him. Unavoidably, I did. He was obsessed with me, and his last words to me were a solid promise to come for me. He might not be in the vicinity, but he was still here. I could feel him. And that freaked me out. He possessed a mind control over me in the dreams that made me respond to him in a way that I loathed. Swear to God, I couldn’t help myself. And one thing I hated was not being in control of my actions and thoughts.
As I dug my toes into the wet sand, I thought of everyone else in my life, and how my changes would affect them. Nyx was beside herself with worry, for me and Seth. As far as she knew, I was fine; it was Seth who’d needed me, after his supposed drug addiction. It was the only thing we could tell her. Seth hated it because he was so adamant about never being on drugs; we’d had no choice. I’d left Inksomnia in Nyx’s very capable hands while Seth and I both spent time recovering. I hated lying to her; she was my best friend. But no way in hell could she ever handle the truth. And even if she did ever dare to believe in vampires, I could almost imagine her running around, hugging them all and thinking a little love would cure their barbaric sickness. If anyone could hug a vampire into being nice, it’d be Master Hugger Nyxinnia Foster. But I trusted only the Duprés in regard to creatures of the afterlight, and receiving Nyx’s hugs. God, I missed her. She missed us, too, and wanted us home. Hopefully, that’d be soon. I suppose since I hadn’t tried to suck anyone else’s blood out that my withdrawals had finally come to an end. Thank God. I was freaking sick of all the ups and downs. It was like going through the midlife change, only with vampirism.
Strong arms encircled my waist, breaking my rambling thoughts, and, unlike my old, prevampiric-tendencied self, I didn’t even flinch.
“Yeah, so why is that?” Eli said, his lips close to my ear. “Why don’t you flinch?”
I rested my weight against him. “Because, you nerd,” I said teasingly, “not only can I smell your scent two miles away, but I can hear you coming. I also heard you lay that quilt on the sand over there.”
“Hmm,” he said, his voice low, seductive, one hand leaving my waist to skim over my hip. “Hearing me come is quite a unique vampiric tendency.” Slowly, erotically, he slipped his hand lower, beneath the hem of my short cotton beach dress, and dragged his palm up my hip. His body tightened behind me, and he buried his mouth into the crook of my neck. “Christ, Riley,” he said, his hand skimming my bare skin, his voice deepening. “Running commando these days?” Both hands found their way beneath my dress, and my head fell against Eli’s chest as the sensation of his palms gliding over first my thighs, hips, abdomen, then lower, came over me. He pulled me against him, held me tightly, and his hardness throbbed, pressing into my lower back. Vampires had to be, hands down, the horniest creatures of any light. Fine by me. As his mouth moved over the sensitive skin of my neck, then my ear, I lifted my hands, grasped his jaw, and threaded my fingers through his hair. The soft, wet brush of his lips caressing my skin turned me on almost as much as his palm cupping my bare, pantiless bottom. Aching for him, I squirmed a bit against his hand so that the sensitive nub would touch the right callused spot, and sensations raced through me as I succeeded. Before I came, he pulled away, lifted my dress over my head, flung it somewhere behind us, then turned me in his arms, and lowered his head until his mouth covered mine. With both hands holding my head in place, he kissed me, tasted my tongue with his, and slowly, he began walking me backward, deeper into the water. We stopped moving when it reached our waist, and although I couldn’t see Eli’s face in detail, I saw the silhouette. He watched me, silent, his hands moving softly over my jaw, chin, cheekbones, grazing my lips. The heat lightning overhead crept across the sky like the fine strands of a spiderweb, and, in the brief second it flashed, I saw Eli’s eyes. They were fixed on me, dark, filled with a craving that caused me to shiver with eagerness.
“I’ve never wanted another as much as I want you,” he mouthed against my lips before tasting them. “I’ve waited for you my whole existence, and I never thought for a second that I’d get so lucky.” He kissed me, his full lips dragging over mine, our tongues brushing. His hands grasped my hips; his fingers dug into my flesh, I gasped, and he lifted me.
I wrapped my legs around him, the water making our bodies slick, and I slid down his abdomen until his rigid hardness nudged me, entered me, completely filled me. His hands splayed over my buttocks, pulling me tightly against him, preventing all thoughts of escape, and he kissed me again. Hard. Demanding. Possessive. I nearly came again.
Without any more words, Eli moved through the water, back to the shore. At the quilt he’d laid on the sand, he followed me down and kissed me as slowly as he made love to me. The only time I could see him was when the lightning flashed, and even then for only a split second or two. But I felt him, inside me, surrounding me, and I knew then that making love with Eli was unlike any other experience I’d ever had, or would ever have. He reached a place so deep and hidden within me, that it frightened me, and I wasn’t prepared to name it yet. I clung to him as we climaxed together, beneath an almost-moonless September night in the sand on a random Gullah barrier island. When our movement slowed, Eli’s hands searched first my body, then my face, and he held me close, pressing his lips to my ear.
“You’re mine forever,
chérie
,” he said, his accent thicker than usual. “I want only you.”
Before I could respond, his lips claimed mine, settled, tasted slowly. With his knuckles he grazed my jaw, traced my lips, then wrapped his arms and legs around me, pulling me close. I accepted the fact that while Eli had the courage to say the words out loud, I didn’t. But I felt them just as strongly as I’d felt anything. One day, hopefully, I’d be able to tell him. Nestled against his chest, I hugged him and closed my eyes.
He kissed me again, whispered something French in my ear—I had no clue what it meant. I figured he’d just read my endearing thoughts and that my unspoken words were enough for him right now. Finally, exhaustion claimed me.
I confess, love—it pains me to know you’ve had another inside you. That you seem to enjoy it so fully excites me, though, and as I promised, one day you shall be no longer his, but mine. You will have me inside you over and over until you beg me to stop; and after, you’ll never want another. There is no escape—you are meant for me. He may be inside you for a while—as long as it takes him to fuck you—but I live inside you. My blood is mixed with yours, and no amount of hoodoo magic can change it. We are one and I promise, I will come for you. Until then, I drown in thoughts of you, of touching you, of your mouth sliding over me. Soon, love. Very soon . . .
 
I bolted up from the quilts and gasped. I glanced around; I was alone. A hazy light filled the canvas tent, the sun not yet risen but still light enough outside to see. The pungent brine of low tide wafted through and rustled my hair, and I inhaled deeply. Oh Christ Almighty. Another dream.
Another message, rather. From Victorian. He was close. I could feel him.
“Eli?” I called out, and crawled on hands and knees to the tent opening.
The man I sometimes had a difficult time remembering was a vampire sat hunched down at the shore, watching the sun rise and picking at some random shell in the sand. The slightly tanned skin of his muscular back looked shiny in the peaking sunlight, the black-inked Dupré crest standing stark between his blades. He was buck naked. He turned and waved. “Come here, you,” he said, and gave me a grin.
Pushing the fear of Victorian aside, I, also buck naked, left the tent and joined him at the water’s edge. And as he took me in his arms, I flushed my mind of the other. He’d not ruin this. I simply wouldn’t let him.
And I’d die making sure of it.
Part Two
 
VOICES
 
“There are such beings as vampires, some of us have evidence that they exist. Even had we not the proof of our own unhappy experience, the teachings and the records of the past give proof enough for some people.”
 
—Bram Stoker,
Dracula
“Swear to God, I thought I could handle this. Truly. I mean, the power of my tendencies is freaking amazing. I can do some outlandish shit. Even Gilles is impressed. But in becoming fearless, I’ve become reckless, and that’s not so good. While Victorian looks deceiving—I mean, he’s absolutely beautiful—I know the depth of his desires. He freaking tells me all the time—inside my head. He wants me as badly as Eli does, and I’m scared it’s going to come down to an all-out war. The thing is, what am I willing to risk to stop it?”
 
—Riley Poe
 
 
M
y back hit the sand as I dropped to the ground, avoiding the blade Eli’s mother had freaking flung at me. Before I could blink, Elise was over me, her tiny bare foot to my throat. As my eyes met hers, she shook her head and sighed.
“Riley, sweetheart,” Elise said, her voice even, sweet, her heavier French accent enticing. “Never drop to your back. Crouch,
oui
. Jump,
oui
. But as you can see, being on your back leaves you vulnerable.” She wiggled her toes against the sensitive part of my throat, then removed her foot and extended a hand to me. I took it and, with amazing strength, she helped me up. “In any situation.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, mortified that a very proper lady in her late fifties with delicately painted pink toes and weighing no more than a hundred and ten pounds could kick my ass. I brushed the sand off my skin. “Crouch. Don’t drop.”
She smiled. “One hundred and four pounds,” she clarified, reading my thoughts as the Duprés frequently and freely did. “Seth,” she called out.

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