SovereignsChoice (19 page)

“She is not for you,” the man holding me
says. “Tell your masters she is not to be touched.”

“She’s safe for now. When the power of her
blood manifests—”

“She is not to be touched,” my protector
grates. “She’s under my protection.”

“We’ll see about that.” The horned man
fades into the darkness between the trees, laughing. He leaves an unpleasant,
musky odor behind that lingers long after his ugly chuckle has faded. When he’s
gone, my thoughts return to the horror I have just witnessed.

“Mamma,” I whisper brokenly.

“She’s gone, darling,” murmurs a soft
voice. “I’m so sorry. She’s gone. Gone…”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Gone…” I wake up crying, as I always do
from The Dream.

What exactly happened that night—the night
of the fire that I always dream about and can never quite remember? I can
recall very few details. I remember crying inconsolably. Strong arms carrying
me and a deep, soothing voice telling me I would be all right. The dark,
smoke-smelling night folding around us. And then my rescuer, whoever he was,
depositing me in my aunt’s arms. “She’s yours now. Take care of her.”

And then he disappeared.

I never saw his face. I never knew his name
or even where he came from. But he saved me from running back into the fire and
from the danger in the woods…
Danger? What danger? Something about a man
with horns…

I try but the dream is slipping away. The
more I try to grasp at the details, the more they disintegrate to ashes, like
paper in a fire.

And then the pain starts, driving away
every other thought in my head.

My period isn’t a regular, monthly
occurrence, like it is for most women my age. It only comes three or four times
a year—always presaged by The Dream.

And it always makes me feel as if I’m
dying.

The stabbing, grinding ache in my lower
abdomen feels as if someone is simultaneously poking me with a bayonet and
driving over me with a tractor. Usually it comes on slowly, giving me time to
brew a cup of tea from the special herb mixture I’ve concocted, which makes it
a bit more bearable. The herbs don’t take all the pain away—nothing short of
death could do that. They do, however, make me feel a little less as if I’m
about to meet my maker.

But this time the pain hits hard and fast,
like a freight train of agony smashing straight into my body. It hurts so much
I can barely breathe and even if I get up, it won’t do any good. My herb
mixture is at home and I have no way to get it.

I think of calling Lexy. It’s the middle of
the night but she would understand. She was with me when I had my first few
cycles—the ones where my aunt rushed me to the emergency room, certain I had been
stricken with appendicitis or something equally deadly. It was only after
having two or three periods that we realized the grinding agony was normal for
me.

So yes, I’ll call Lexy and ask her to go to
my apartment again, and bring me my herbs. But my phone is all the way across
the room on the dresser. I’ll have to get up to get to it and right now, I’m
not even sure if I can turn over, let alone get out of bed and walk across the
room.

Still, if I don’t get my special tea, the
torture is only going to get worse. I know from painful experience that it can
go on for up to twenty-four hours before my period finally runs its course.
That, of course, is the only goodthing about my cycle—it’s very short.
It’s as if my body saves up all the pain a normal woman has during her entire
week-long cycle, multiplies it by a factor of twenty and dumps it on me all at
once. All in all, I think I’d rather have a week of dull, achy cramps than one twenty-four-hour
time slot filled with unremitting agony. But it’s not up to me.

Grimly, I force myself to roll over in bed
and sit up. The effort leaves me shaking, my forehead damp with sweat. I can feel
the wet, sticky warmth between my thighs and I’m afraid I’m ruining the crisp
cotton sheets. I never have a very heavy flow but it’s enough that I need a
tampon—which is something else I left at home. I’ll ask Lexy to bring them
along with the herbal-tea mixture.

Now comes the hard part—standing up. I know
that getting to my feet is going to feel as if someone is stabbing me with a
thousand knives but I
have
to do it. I have to reach my phone. Why the
hell didn’t I leave it on the nightstand instead of all the way across the room
on the dresser?
Ugh…this is going to really hurt…

Pushing against the mattress with all my
strength, I lever myself up into a shaky standing position.
Okay, that
wasn’t so bad.
Then I take the first step and the stabbing pain cuts
through me. The bright flare of agony in my lower belly brings me to my knees.
I hit the carpeted floor with a
thump
and a low moan is drawn from my
lips. For a minute, all I can think about is how much it hurts.
The pain…the
pain… Oh Goddess, please make it stop…

And then someone is bending over me. In the
darkness, I see a pale face, almost too perfect to be real. Luminous
silver-gray eyes are staring anxiously into mine.
Aiden…Master…

“I’m here, darling.” He sounds worried—maybe
on the edge of panic but somehow he’s holding it together. “What’s wrong? Where
are you hurt?”

“Not…hurt,” I manage to gasp.

He frowns. “The hell you’re not—I can smell
the blood. What have you done to yourself?” He lifts one of my arms and
examines my wrist, maybe looking for slash marks.

“I…I didn’t cut myself,” I say, trying to
pull my wrist away.

“Then what’s going on?” he demands.

Absurdly, I’m embarrassed. Despite the raw
pain still tearing through me, I don’t want to explain. This is a female
matter—
private
. And I’ve yet to meet a man, human or supernatural, who
didn’t shy away from discussing it. But Aiden is bending over me, his eyes
filled with concern, clearly waiting for an answer.

“It’s—” I gasp as another bolt of pain
shoots through me.

Aiden grips my shoulder tighter. “What?
What is it?” he urges.

“Just…just my period,” I whisper through
gritted teeth.

Aiden’s face fills with understanding.
“Your monthly cycle. Is it always this bad?”

“Always,” I whisper, grateful that he
understands. “I need my herbal tea. It’s at home but I’ll get Lexy to bring it.
That helps a little.”

Aiden frowns. “It will take too much time
for her to get here.” Gently, he scoops me into his arms and carries me back to
the bed.

“No, don’t.” I struggle weakly as he tries
to slide me back under the covers. “The sheets—I’ll ruin them.”

“Damn the sheets,” he says angrily. He puts
me in bed and then crawls in beside me. He’s no longer wearing his expensive
business suit, I realize hazily. He’s back to faded blue jeans and a T-shirt.

The pain gets worse and I start to shiver.
Aiden sits up a moment, rips off his shirt and holds me close, obviously trying
to warm me with his body heat. I close my eyes and try not to think about the
pain but it fills me, consumes me. It feels as if someone is digging out my
insides with a dull shovel.

“Emma,” he whispers harshly in my ear.
“This is too much for you to bear. I’m going to give you something to dull the
pain.”

“Drugs…don’t help,” I whisper, fighting to
get the words out. “Nothing but the herbs. Call…Lexy.”

“
This will help,” he says with such certainty that I open my eyes to see
what he’s talking about.

I focus on him just in time to see him
bring his wrist to his teeth and bite down hard, his white fangs sinking into
his pale flesh. He pulls his mouth away and deep crimson blood, like liquid
rubies, begins to flow. The set of his eyes betrays the agony he’s feeling. If
everything I’ve heard is true, Aiden has just inflicted pain equal to what I’m
going through on himself. Losing blood is a traumatic and excruciating
experience for vampires. As I explained before, their bodies don’t want to give
it up.

“No,” I whisper, my eyes going wide with
horror. “You can’t—”

“The hell I can’t,” he says fiercely.
“Didn’t I tell you I’d give my blood if you needed it? Well, you need it now,
Emma.” He presses his bleeding wrist to my lips. “Drink. It will make the pain
less.”

I open my mouth to protest but then his
blood is filling my mouth. It’s hot and sweet like melted honey with a sharp,
metallic tang at the end. Too weak to push him away, I let it fill my mouth and
run down my throat like liquid sunshine. I know this must be hurting my Master
but he doesn’t make a sound or a sign, only watches anxiously as my throat
moves, swallowing the sacrifice of blood he gives me.

It only takes a minute or two before I feel
a change. Something miraculous is happening—the stabbing, grinding pain in my
lower abdomen is fading. Slowly but surely it slides away, like a chain pulled crushingly
tight around my belly is being loosened. At last, all that’s left is a dull
ache, which, while not pleasant, is a hellof a lot better than what I felt
before.

Feeling stronger, I push Aiden’s wrist away.
There’s no need for him to endure any more pain for me and anyway, the
self-inflicted wounds on his pale flesh are already healing. His face is still
anxious as he looks down at me. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” I say and take a deep breath.
“Thank you. I know how much that must have hurt.”

“My pain doesn’t matter,” he says roughly.
“It’s yours I’m concerned with. Is it gone—all the way gone?”

“Almost completely,” I assure him. “There’s
nothing but a few, uh, cramps left now.” I feel my cheeks getting hot as I say
it. Now that the pain has dissipated, I’m embarrassed again.

“Almost completely isn’t good enough.”
Aiden strokes my cheek. “I want you well.”

“I feel a lot better than I did,” I point
out. “Not even my herbal tea helps this much. Honestly, I feel almost normal.”

“You need a little pleasure to dispel the
last of the pain,” Aiden decides. Cupping my cheek, he kisses me gently on the
mouth. Despite my recent agony and the cramps I’m still feeling, his touch
makes my heart pound and my blood race.

“Master…” I whisper. “I don’t—”

“You don’t have to worry about anything,”
Aiden finishes for me, firmly. “Just relax, darling, and let me take care of
you. First we’ll get you cleaned up.”

Now I’m truly mortified. “Don’t bother,” I
say hastily. “I’m feeling better. I can take care of myself.” I start to get up
and go in the bathroom but Aiden pushes me back down, gently but firmly.

“I know you can but I don’t want you to. I’m
going to take care of you. Do you understand?”

Biting my lip, I nod. “Yes Master,” I
whisper.

I expect him to go get a wet washcloth to
clean away the evidence of my cycle. As I said, I don’t have a heavy flow but
my inner thighs are wet and sticky with blood and no doubt there are spots on
the sheet beneath me.

But instead of leaving, Aiden starts
kissing me. He starts by nuzzling the sensitive side of my neck and then works
his way down. He takes his time, drawing one aching nipple between his lips and
sucking it slowly but deeply, taking as much of my breast into his mouth as he
can until I cry out at the intensity of the sensation. Then he moves to the
next one, being just as slow and tender and deliberate as he was with the
first.

By the time he finally finishes with my
breasts and moves on down my trembling abdomen, the ache in my belly is no
longer just cramps. I can feel sparks of pleasure moving inside me, the hot
need growing in my pussy.

But I’m still shocked when he gets between
my thighs and bends down to kiss me there.

“Aiden!” I gasp, trying to close my legs,
to shut him out. “Master, no! You can’t.”

“Why can’t I?” he asks, looking at me directly.
His hands rest lightly on my knees, which are turned inward, trying desperately
to keep him out. I know he could force them apart if he wanted to but he
doesn’t. He just sits there looking at me as though what he wants to do is the
most normal thing in the world.

“Because I’m bleeding,” I say. “I mean,
it’s disgusting.”

“Not to me, darling.” He strokes my tightly
closed thighs. “Did you forget I’m a vampire?”

“But…but you really want to…you really
don’t mind…?” I can barely get the words out, I’m still so embarrassed and
incredulous that he would even consider this.

The look in Aiden’s eyes is both hot and
tender. “Very much,” he assures me, still stroking my cheek. “Blood is power
and this is the time when a witch’s power is at its peak. I’ve been wanting to
taste your blood again from the first night I claimed you as my own.”

“But not like this.” I protest, still
unable to believe it. “I mean, if you want to drink from my wrist again or my
neck…”

“I want to take what you’re giving so freely,”
Aiden says. “You have difficulty letting me in, which makes it impossible for
me to make my bite pleasurable for you. This way I can take your blood without
hurting you—while giving you pleasure.” He looks into my eyes and his voice
deepens. “Spread your thighs for me, darling, and let me in. Let me taste you.”

The sound of his Master voice makes my
knees weak and my heart pound against my ribs. Goddess, he really wants to do
this. Slowly, warily, I open my thighs for him.

Aiden has kissed and tasted my pussy many
times in the weeks I’ve been with him but tonight it’s different. He takes his
time, lapping gently at my inner thighs first, his warm, wet tongue cleaning me
as he promised. Then he moves on to my bare pussy.

My naked pussy lips are swollen with need
and my clit is already throbbing. But I can still feel the sticky wetness
welling up from within. Is he really serious about this?

He spreads me open, revealing everything
and looks at me. I have no doubt his sharp vampire eyes can see much more clearly
in the dim bedroom than mine and I have another mini-panic attack. How can he possibly—

“Beautiful,” Aiden murmurs, looking up at
me. “Always beautiful to me, Emma darling.” Then he lowers his head and licks
me gently, from bottom to top.

When he starts, I’m still clenched tight
with embarrassment but as his warm, wet tongue slides over my sensitive clit, I
moan and relax.
He’s a vampire,
I remind myself.
He really does want
to do this.
It still seems weird but I’m rapidly losing my inhibitions. His
mouth on me feels so good, so right and the slow, tender way he laps my pussy
turns my insides to melted butter.

He seems to go on forever, licking and
tasting, circling my clit with the tip of his tongue until I moan and grasp at
his thick, dark hair. His hands on my hips urge me on, pulling me up to him,
guiding me to grind against his mouth and ride his tongue as he dips lower and
presses it deep into my pussy in long, slow strokes. I can feel the pleasure
building, rising toward an inevitable peak within me… But then, to my intense
disappointment, Aiden stops.

“I don’t want you to come this way,” he
murmurs, before I can ask why he stopped. “I’m afraid an orgasm will intensify
your pain.”

I’m disappointed but not surprised. In the
time I’ve been with him, Aiden has made holding off my orgasm into an art form.
But he was being so sweet and tender I thought—hoped—that this time he would just
let me come. “I guess you’re trying to build up my sexual tension again, huh?”
I ask flatly.