Gladly.“It’s my blood doing this to you.”
He bit his bottom lip in an enticing manner to heat my lust.
I pulled free. “Fight it, Paris. Fight it.”
He threw himself on his back, writhing on the bed. Face blooming crimson, groaning. “I can’t…I need…I need you inside me.” With a deft hand, he opened his pants, sliding that same hand into his underwear.
Digging for treasure.
“Fuck me, Silvanus. Please fuck me.”
Desire sparked from him to me, his want an explosion of heat down our bond, my feet moving me a few steps closer to the bed.
I could have him. I could give him what he wanted, like I had so many other thralls. Make him scream my name, feel his skin on mine. Feed from him, exchange kisses and blood and pleasure.
But this was the blood, and only the blood. The other thralls wanted me beyond the bond of blood. A mutual desire, not aconsequence of healing or feeding. Though I had the power to seduce anyone, I never used it to take what I wanted.
Paris and I despised each other. There would be no mutual anything other than discovering the truth behind these dreams and visions.
And this wretched curse.
I turned my back, resisting him, focusing my energies on other things.
“Silvanus…” From behind me I heard moaning, followed by the sound of slapping flesh.
Who would curse us? Why would they curse us?
“Turn around and tear my clothes off,” Paris whined, the sounds of his self-pleasure a lick on the back of my neck.
I tensed under the grip of temptation.
“Shove your regal dick into any hole you like!” he cried. “Use all of me. Do whatever you want. Please. Please. Oh, fuck. I’m… I’m…”
I shot out onto the balcony, slamming the doors behind me just as he screamed out his orgasm, my own cock on the verge of explosion.
Curse all of this.
A scanhawk flew past, scanning the calm ocean water. The tide was high, swallowing the causeway. It was a quiet night, moonlight glistening on the water, a scattering of stars in the inky black blanket of sky.
I watch an airplane’s lights flashing in the distance, locking onto the mundane. Anything to not focus onhispanting.
“By Aidan,” Paris’s voice crawled from the bedroom.
I leaned on the balustrade, not ready to return to his presence. Let him recover and clean himself up first.
“By Aidan,” he repeated, his voice cracked.
Sobbing followed, a horrible whimpering I couldn’t bear. But I stayed on the balcony, waiting out the sounds until they were replaced by the song of sleep.
Paris slept soundly,curled into a ball on my bed. He’d buttoned his pants back up, but the air smelled of his cum and his blood.
Curse it.
I left him to sleep, heading out for a walk. Being out on the balcony wasn’t enough to clear my head. I needed movement to distract myself from the endless tumble of questions and thinking assaulting my brain.
Reaching the empty ballroom, I slumped in my throne, a different scent on the air here. Still sexual, filled with the vitality of vampire lust and mortal wants. Throughout the palace, all sorts of activities were transpiring.
“Enjoy everything,” I mumbled.
