The Vampire Shrink (38 page)

Then he raised himself up, grabbed my hands, and lifted them over my head, holding my wrists. His mesmerizing voice became lower-pitched and husky, sending waves of chills over my skin.

“Do you remember the moment in the club when you asked me to use my eyes to join with you? When we became one consciousness?”

I didn't want to talk. I wanted his mouth on mine, his hands in my hair, his hips thrusting against me. But his description of the passion that fired in me that night brought me back to the delicious memory, and I had a body rush, causing me to gasp. The muscles of my vagina tightened around him involuntarily and he reacted with a deeper thrust and an intake of breath.

He smiled, obviously aware of my memory and the mental chatter. Or maybe it was just because what we were doing felt so very, very good.

“I will take that as a yes.”

I closed my eyes and mumbled something that could have been interpreted as an affirmative.

“Open your eyes, my love. Let me show you that everything before this moment was simply a small taste of what is possible.”

I opened my eyes, connected with his, and reality as I knew it faded away.

My world became the blue-green of his eyes, a spinning, shining universe of bodiless yet extraordinarily physical sensations—as if the pleasure volume on every nerve ending had been turned up while simultaneously having no awareness of being physical at all.

Floating in a stream of consciousness.

I hadn't done any experimentation with hallucinogenic drugs, so I didn't have actual experience to base anything on, but from what I'd read, I was in the middle of an altered state. The vampire version of an LSD trip.

Time had no meaning, so I didn't know how long we'd been there. His penis still moved inside me as we kissed wildly. It could have been hours. Or seconds.

Devereux and I communicated purely telepathically now, and as the orgasm built inside us, it was impossible to tell if the wave of pleasure had a specific starting place, or if we'd simply become the wave.

We'd fallen into each other's eyes, and nothing else mattered.

Just as the peak of the orgasm began, Devereux pierced my neck with his fangs.

I gasped, but there was no pain, only intense, reverberating pleasure.

Pleasure that was off the scale.

I screamed as wave after wave of bliss washed over me. Every muscle in my body—I think it was my body—contracted in ecstasy.

Somewhere in the midst of my own release I felt Devereux spasm inside me, his mouth still at my neck, his silky hair flowing across my breasts.

He brought his lips back to mine and kissed me with profound tenderness, our souls merged as completely as our bodies. I tasted the sweet, coppery tang of my own blood on his tongue and found myself savoring the experience. I sucked on his tongue and ran mine over his teeth, wanting to take in more of the salty essence.

It occurred to me briefly that enjoying the taste of blood probably wasn't a good thing, but I was still too lost in the rapture of the moment to care.

A soft groan from Devereux brought me back to sufficient awareness to notice that I'd been sucking on his fang, which he obviously enjoyed. His erection expanded inside me, apparently eager to continue, and I lifted my hips to take him deeper.

In another of his amazing, seamless movements, he raised himself to his knees, drawing me with him, and held me by my ass, our bodies still joined. We locked eyes as he pressed me back against the headboard, one of his hands still underneath me, the other braced against the wall.

As he pounded into me I heard a voice repeating, “Yes, yes, yes,” and discovered it was mine.

I tightened my legs and arms around him. He held me effortlessly, as if I weighed nothing. He'd told me that vampires possessed unnatural strength, but I hadn't had much personal evidence until then. I think he could have held me there, giving me one orgasm after another, until I cried for mercy.

Which I finally did.

I clung to him as he emptied himself into me yet again, only then allowing him to slide out of me. Still straddling his lap, I snuggled into his warm arms and let myself be gently rocked.

He whispered lovely words, in English, French, and what might have been Gaelic, and stroked my hair.

At some point I must have fallen asleep, because he swept his finger gently across my cheek and said softly, “I must go, my love—the dawn approaches.”

My eyes flew open, and I noticed I was tucked into my bed, and Devereux was fully dressed. He sat next to me and brushed a lock of hair away from my face.

“For eight hundred years I have waited for this night. I am very much in love with you. I do not expect you to return my feelings right away—I understand that this is all new to you. I only ask that you give me a chance to win your heart.”

He leaned over, brushed my lips with his, and vanished.

I fell back asleep with the lyrics of Heart's classic “Magic Man” flowing through my mind.

CHAPTER 21

T
he screeching of the alarm clock dragged me, kicking and screaming, back to the land of the living. I groaned, rolled over, and turned off the annoying siren.

I'd had the most amazing dream—or, to be more accurate, I was in the middle of it when the damn alarm went off. I knew I had to get up, but it was so tempting just to lie there and revel in the memories from the previous night and the remnants of the nocturnal fantasy.

In the dream I'd been with Devereux again, but this time we were outside, in the sunlight, on top of a beautiful mountain surrounded by other peaks. I could actually feel the breeze blowing through my hair and across my body. Which was naked, by the way.

As was Devereux's. Yum.

The muscles of my vagina contracted as I remembered Devereux, stretched out like an alabaster nature god in the vivid green grass with me on top of him, riding that impressive erection as we both screamed with pleasure.

It felt so real—the sun shining on Devereux's pale skin, the texture of the grass beneath my knees and lower legs as I straddled him, the fragrance of evergreen wafting in the air.

After sharing another cosmic orgasm I collapsed on his firm chest and felt his arms close around me as his lips passionately reclaimed mine.

With another of his smooth moves, he flipped me over so I was on my back on the grass and kissed his way down my body. Faster than I could see, he bent my knees, opened my legs, and began to lick my clitoris. His tongue was soft, relentless, and had honed in on the perfect spot. Impossibly, within seconds I felt another powerful wave of ecstasy building. After he pushed me over the edge, he angled his mouth ever so slightly and gently sank his fangs into the soft lip next to my clit. There was a fleeting sting as his needle-sharp canines pierced the tender skin and he began to suck, but that was quickly drowned out by the mother of all orgasms.

Waves of intense pleasure built, one upon the next, as I screamed words in a language I didn't know. Just when I thought I would go mad if the sensations didn't stop, he ran his tongue over the tiny punctures, kissed me there, and sat up, a wicked smile on his amazing face.

That's when the infernal alarm clock rudely interrupted and forced me to resurface into consensus reality.

Damn if it wasn't the best dream ever. Even thinking about it gave me a hot body rush.

I stuffed my newly reawakened libido with a sigh.

Back to the real world.

All it took was the simple act of sitting up to remind me that my physical body, as well as my dream body, had undergone quite a workout only a few hours before.

That realization birthed a silly grin.

I guess it could have been the fact that, after two years, I'd been royally pleasured by the best lover I'd ever had. Magnificently shagged. Awesomely boinked. Spectacularly screwed. We'd surely broken the world record for the number of orgasms a couple could have and still be alive to talk about it.

Well, one of us was alive to talk about it, anyway.

I sat back against the very same headboard that had been witness to the athletic portion of the performance and sighed happily, still unable to stop grinning.

It occurred to me that I'd never asked Devereux where he went during the daylight hours. Did he sleep in a coffin? Maybe “sleep” was the wrong word. But he'd told me he dreamed, and how could he dream if he didn't sleep? How could he dream if he just died when the sun came up?

Now that I'd actually accepted the ludicrous idea that not only did vampires exist, but I was having a mad, passionate, sexual relationship with the Grand Pooh-Bah, I realized I was very curious. If I was going to counsel real vampires, I needed to ask lots more questions and get much better answers. It was important that I didn't simply shift from a total refusal to believe anything paranormal to a complete acceptance of any and all vampire weirdness. That was just too extreme for me and not in the least scientific.

I threw the covers back, heaved my legs over the side of the bed, stood, and attempted to stretch. All the major muscle groups in my body ganged up on me at once and started whining. If it hadn't been for the fact that I had a full client load for the next twelve hours, I'd have considered diving back into the bed and pulling the covers over my head. With any luck, I'd fall back asleep and have the mountain dream again.

Instead, I promised the complaining muscles a long, hot shower, and I propelled myself in that direction.

I hoped I'd be able to wipe the goofy grin off my face when I got to my office. On the other hand, it might do my clients good to have their notions about me confounded, to help them realize that change really could happen. Even to me.

Nerd Woman joins the twenty-first century.

Walking to the bathroom reminded me, again, what happened to muscles if you didn't use them. The area between my legs was tender and sore, which was to be expected considering the size of the object that'd been in there.

I started the shower, adjusted the water temperature, and stepped in. The soothing water flowed down my body, miraculously easing all the tight muscles while relaxing me into a boneless state. I washed my hair, then soaped the rest of me. The lathering came to an abrupt halt when I reached the area between my legs. Not only was it tender, but the soap caused a sudden burning pain.

“Ow, dammit! When did that happen?”

Not sure who I was asking, I put the soap down and felt around the sore spot with my fingers. Beyond verifying that it was indeed uncomfortable, the examination didn't give me much additional information.

Finding wounds on my body that weren't supposed to be there had started to be a regular occurrence. It didn't take a psychic to figure out that the feeling of déjà vu I experienced was because I'd been through this same routine just a few days earlier, thanks to Bryce.

Bryce. How weird that an entire vampire war had started over a broken heart. Not to mention the fact that the vampires in question supposedly
had
no functioning hearts. No heartbeats unless they chose to have them. I guess love, or in this case
unrequited
love, transcended life and death. Bryce wanted to destroy Devereux and the coven because he was a bloodsucker scorned. The therapist in me wondered if Bryce had ever been sane, even as a human. The idea of creating so much drama and trauma over a spurned relationship struck me as dysfunctional, but in the big picture, what else did vampires have to do to fill the millennia? Since he saw me as a threat to his happy-ever-after with Devereux, I hoped he would lose interest in his vendetta before anyone else got hurt.

Finished with my shower, I toweled off and grabbed a hand mirror from the top of the vanity. Angling it so I could examine my nether regions, I ran a fingertip gingerly along the tender skin but still couldn't make out anything in particular.

Maybe we'd just rubbed the poor little thing raw with our calisthenics.

But when I pulled back the lip, clearly visible on the inside were two not-so-tiny holes floating in a sea of angry red skin.

“What the hell?”

I reached over, opened the medicine cabinet above the sink, and retrieved the tube of antiseptic salve that I'd used for my last bite wound.

Dotting it carefully on the sore spots, I struggled to remember any time during the night when Devereux had bitten anything but my neck.

Instinctively I lifted my hand up to my throat, checking for evidence of what I clearly remembered, but felt only smooth skin. I raised the mirror, shifted my neck around to display all sides, then shook my head.

Nothing. No sign of the sensuous nibble. Not even a pink spot.

Either I'd blacked out and missed a very erotic chapter in our book of carnal knowledge, or something altogether different had happened.

Then, as if someone had switched on a movie, I remembered the last scene of the mountain dream. The labial feast.

“It was not a dream,” floated through my mind in a familiar voice.

“Devereux?” I jumped up and ran into my bedroom.

“We were in another dimension, and I was careless. My heartfelt apologies, my love. I will heal your wound tonight.”

“Dever—” I almost got his name out before I realized the voice was coming from inside my head. Or at least I was pretty sure that no one else could hear it.

At least, not anyone I could see.

I'll never get used to this.

I paused for a moment, waiting for any remaining astral proclamations, but the voice remained silent.

Well, that's great. Now even my dreams leave scars.

I didn't know whether I was being open-minded or stupid, but one thing was certain: nothing surprised me anymore.