Calling for a Miracle [The Order of Vampyres 2] (Siren Publishing Classic) (35 page)

“I have never heard of it before,” he admitted. His fingers went to her breasts and he began to toy with the tips, plucking and pulling. He arched beneath her as if it were her touching his chest. Tits. The unfamiliar word popped into Larissa’s mind.

“Eleazar?”

“Yes,
bellissima.
”

“What are tits?”

He laughed and cupped her breasts. “These are tits.”

She looked down at his warm hands holding her there. “Like a cow has a teat?”

“Sort of, but we call them tits. I might also add that yours are beautiful and it is a crime to even compare them to a cow’s udders.”

“But they are for milk.”

“They are for so much more than that.” He leaned up and pulled the tip of her breast into his mouth and suckled it tightly between his lips. His tongue flicked it from inside his warm mouth and she made a silent “oh” as she understood what he meant. He called these her nipples.

Larissa thought about the way he had described her body the night before. He had made it sound beautiful like a flower. He had used words she was familiar with like bud, and petals, and nectar. Larissa wasn’t sure she could ever walk through a garden again without blushing. She liked the way he had given her words she could say. Yet she felt somewhat childish using them while making love.

“Eleazar?”

“Yes.” He rolled them so that her back pressed into the covers and he was now on top of her.

“What do you call a woman down there?”

He kissed her and his shaft found her opening, but did not enter her fully. Holding himself up, he made soft, shallow thrusts, teasing her opening. “What do you mean?”

“You called your maleness a…cock.” She blushed. “What is the name for a female?”

He stilled above her. “Say it again,” he whispered, his lips so close to her own.

“Cock?”

He shut his eyes and breathed deep. “You are a surprise, Larissa.” He continued to make shallow dips into her with his cock. Then he said, “There are many names for a female.” He pressed a little deeper and she squirmed, impatiently wanting him to enter her all the way. His voice grew thick. “I have heard many English terms over the years, yet I find none of them complimentary or flattering. I much prefer the French terms.”

“What are the French words?” She held his forearms as he leaned forward and licked from one nipple to the next.

“There is”—he pressed deeper into her core—“
petite fleur,
which is French for ‘little flower.’” His hips retreated then pumped back in, this time reaching almost all the way inside of her. “Or I have heard it referred to as a female’s
jardin secret
, her ‘secret garden.’” Her hips began to undulate beneath him. She felt her fangs descend and her breath pick up. “I, however, prefer to call your
petite fleur
something else.” He pulled back, practically leaving her entirely empty.

She whimpered, wanting him back inside of her, and asked, “What is that, Bishop?”

He smiled down at her a bit wickedly and leaned close to whisper, “
Mine.
”

His shaft then thrust into her so deep she felt their bones collide. She groaned and tilted back, savoring the sensation. He began to pump into her steadily then. In and out, building the fire in her belly again. She felt his mind pulling her and suddenly saw images of herself through his eyes. She did not recognize the woman beneath him. It was her, but never had she imagined she could appear so wanton. So beautiful.

Her knees pulled up and she felt him touch deep inside of her where a male’s seed was meant to go. He held himself there and growled appreciatively.

“I can feel myself so deep inside of you,
bellissima.
”

“Yes,” she hissed. He rotated his hips and ground his cock into her, caressing her inner walls and causing her legs to tremble.

He was so strong. She reached for him, wanting to feel his lips upon hers. He caught her hands before she could pull him to her and pinned them above her head over her wild hair. Lifting up slightly, he held her wrists in one strong hand and reached his other hand between her legs. She watched him.

His long, trim body bunched as muscles corded with each slow thrust. His strong thighs filled the space between her soft feminine ones. His waist tapered in at the hips and glistened with perspiration and he continued to drive into her.

The hand between her legs teased at her folds. She jerked as she felt his hand in too many places at once. She felt his fingers graze her tender flesh where she was most sensitive. She felt his touch over his own shaft as it pushed in and out of her wet folds. She felt him pressing deep within her as if he never planned to leave. The way his body so perfectly filled her to the point of bursting and the way she felt herself coil around him like a hot fist. It was magnificent.

“Larissa, my beautiful female, my mate, there are no words for what you do to me.
Je t’aime, bellissima. Je t’aime, mon amour..
”
His voice was gravelly as he spoke to her, words that sounded so beautiful to her ears no matter that she could not understand their meaning. “
Je tiens à vous donner un enfant d’amour.
”

She felt her entire being tighten to a point of breaking. He continued to touch her where their bodies were connected and she shuddered as her mouth opened on a silent scream and her muscles tightened around him. He thrust in to her core hard and fast, his own muscles tightening above her.

Suddenly his spine curved and his head fell back between his shoulders. She felt her muscles clamping down on him, felt his cock flutter inside the trembling walls of her sex. And then there was a new sensation. As if pulling from a place deep inside of her that she knew did not exist, she felt his soul open and flood her being.

Warmth spread through her insides as his body trembled with relief. She felt his release, felt it flood her as well as the sensation of it leaving him. She was not sure what he thought of such things, but with his seed came a thought. Larissa wanted his baby.

He collapsed beside her, pulling her with him. She stretched her arms and caressed his chest and took the kiss she had been after. No matter what was to come, she knew she needed her mate. She understood now that the bond shared between called mates was so all-encompassing nothing else mattered. She felt her doubt and insecurities wash away, knowing that he saw her as a masterpiece the same way she saw him. They were made for one another, the other half of each other’s soul.

For the first time in a long time, Larissa felt optimistic about her future. She felt that she was no longer running away from something, but running toward something. They would build a life together and grow together as a family. She prayed to God, giving grace for her blessings and asking for Eleazar’s child. To be a mother to this male’s sons and daughters would be a gift without equal.

As if reading her mind, Eleazar placed his palm over her stomach and looked into her eyes. “Soon, Larissa, it will happen soon. I promise you this.”

Chapter 22

Eleazar watched the cars go by from the window two floors up in Larissa’s apartment. He wondered if she would miss this place.

“So what year were you born?” she called from the bedroom where she was changing.

He laughed softly to himself. She had a way of making him feel incredibly self-conscious about his age. “I believe it was 1486, but time was not tracked as precisely then so I cannot be sure.”

“In Spain you were born, correct?”

“Yes. During that time Spain was more a collection of kingdoms. I was born outside the kingdom of Leon and our area was referred to as Castilla.” He picked up a thin red ribbon lying across the arm of her sofa. He brought it to his nose and could smell the fragrance of Larissa’s hair on the satin band. He placed it in his pocket.

“Were you in Spain long?”

“No. I was only a boy when Spain was invaded and citizens were being persecuted for their religious beliefs. I, along with many Jews, fled rather than be forced into Catholicism.”

“You were not always Christian?”

“I have always had a strong faith. Over the course of five hundred years, you will find your beliefs tend to evolve and change.”

“Where did you go?”

He smiled. His mate had a curious little mind. “I went to Turkey with my family then west to the Caribbean Isles for a time. Somewhere around the mid-fifteen hundreds, I wrote a book advising on practicing God’s will. I believed, while others preferred to delegate, that God was better served by each of us. Service to God should not be done in a halfhearted manner, but with joy. For a while many thought of me as a Rabbi, but I soon grew tired of the title. I did not want others’ praise. I only sought their assistance in serving Our Father.”

“What did you do then?”

“Traveled. Soul searched. I spent some time in Germany, France, Switzerland. I believe Switzerland is the home I miss most. But I grew tired of worldly matters. I no longer cared for wealth or possessions. By the eighteenth century the world had begun to crumble in my mind. Europe was being infested with plague and it became difficult to feed without endangering even ourselves.

“That was when I began to hear rumors of The New World. It occurred to me that we could start over. I was interested in learning of this untouched land so many were speaking of. There were tales of savages and more land than any man could fill. My ancestors had been farmers and I was knowledgeable of agriculture. Others said the ground was fresh and rich for planting. I became obsessed with obtaining a vessel to take me to this place.

“I began speaking to only close friends about my intentions. As Europe grew more and more desolate and I watched several of our kind forsake their morals and respect for God’s creatures, I knew I absolutely needed to leave. We had meetings in secret. There were nine families with children of various ages. I felt as though God was calling me to guide these families to a better life, a new beginning. The men met throughout the years and eventually we heard rumors of a ship scheduled to depart to the Americas. That is how we ended up on
The Charming Nancy.
”

“It is so different hearing you talk about it, having experienced it firsthand. I recall my teacher telling us about the ship when we were children, but it was nothing like the way you describe it. They made it sound like an adventure.”

Eleazar thought back to the voyage he had taken from Europe. It was an adventure, but not an enjoyable one. Several good men, women, and children perished. They seemed stripped down to nothing by the time they finally reached the port of Philadelphia. He could still recall the fear that he might let down those who had followed him so courageously, so faithfully. Let Larissa have her fanciful imaginings of an adventure, he thought. He did not want to disturb her with his recollections of hardship and pain.

“You got so quiet.”

He turned when he heard her voice just behind him. The sight of her made his heart skitter. She was dressed in an Amish gown. Her white apron wrapped demurely about her. Her hair was braided close to her head and her face scrubbed clean. She looked like a little girl. Yes, she made him feel every bit of his five hundred years.