Chapter Eight
Sebastien could not remember if anything he’d ever tasted had been as sweet on his tongue as Kendra was when he caressed the slick, silky folds of her most intimate area. With his fingers, he spread her gently to give himself better access and took his time savoring her, her moans and sighs and the desperate way she clutched his head serving only to heighten his own desire. When he felt he tantalized her enough, he found the tight little button of her clit, and worked it well, the tip of his tongue lashing out on it as he used everything he’d ever learned about pleasing a woman with his tongue to draw her to the cusp of ecstasy. He could feel her closing in on her orgasm, the first of the many he intended to give her from this moment on, and when she cried out, he left her nether lips, his fangs extending with a hungry hiss before he sunk them into her femoral artery.
The blood kiss was a wonderful thing when done right, and Sebastien knew well how to use it to enhance a woman’s orgasm. Her held Kendra’s thigh tight to his lips, drinking her blood in soft, suckling sips while she shook on the bed, the force of the new sensation shocking her into new and unexpected heights. He could feel her muscles flutter as the pleasure shot lightning through her, and only stopped feeding when her body finally calmed and her breath evened.
He pulled away slowly and licked at the small puncture marks on her skin, the enzymes in his saliva closing the little openings almost instantly. He’d expected her to let him mount her then, pliant and sweet for him from the orgasm, but he’d underestimated his beloved. She was not a woman content with laying back and letting him do all the work. Oh, no. She was a conqueror, his Amazon queen, and the second he rose to lay another kiss to her lips, she tackled him, forcing him onto his back without breaking the kiss, and climbed on top of him.
“You’re right,” she purred as she straddled his hips and reached for the thick, taut length of him, caressing it, running her hand up and down a few times before she positioned the head of his spear at her entrance, soft and dripping wet. “I will be the death of you,” she said, teasing, and in one strong push, let him slip all the way inside of her.
She cried out, and he with her, trembling at the intimacy of the sensation. It shot a blaze of pleasure straight down his spine, and he grabbed on to her hips, urging her to move.
And, when she finally did, it was glorious.
Without raising from him, Kendra rolled her hips in small, wide circles, like a belly dancer at the beginning of her act. Her back arched up straight, her head falling back a little, and her hands rested on the taut muscles of his stomach as she moved on top of him. Sebastien could not stop looking at her. Did he think her beautiful before? He was wrong, so wrong, and only now did he realize what true beauty was. Kendra was a force of nature, a power in her own right. He finally understood what she’d been telling him tonight. In this bed, she might belong to him – but he would never own her, never control her... and he recognized that, for all the primal, possessive force of his hunger, he didn’t want to.
It would be a crime to dim this bright flame, and he knew he was man enough to take her as she was, fierce and independent, and love her more, not less for it, unthreatened by the strength of her will.
Yes, she was his, he thought in the last moments of lucid thought, which slipped away as Kendra picked up speed, moving faster and faster on top of him. She was his... and he was hers.
And that was how it should be.
He could feel her orgasm coming again, the gentle pull and squeeze around his member that grew quicker, stronger, synched perfectly with each begging cry that fell out of Kendra’s lips as she moved her hips, riding him fast and hard, and when she screamed his name again, Sebastien finally lost it, lost himself, calling out for her as he spilled his seed into her, his entire body trembling like a plucked string, the pleasure shattering him to his very core.
Limp and exhausted, Kendra fell over his torso, and he pulled her into a warm, soft embrace, letting her rest on top of him and catch her breath.
“You know,” he teased her, “A man could get used to this petite mort.” She chuckled, having no energy left to say or do anything else.
But that was all right. She didn’t need to do anything anymore, not tonight.
Now she had him to be strong for her when she needed.
For the next few days, Sebastien spent his time between complete focus on his work and heavenly bliss in his bed. Now that he knew Kendra and he would always be there for each other when they needed it, the desperate need that hounded him earlier no longer bothered him, allowing him to concentrate on whatever task he had at hand.
Each nightfall, before he’d go about his business and Kendra’d go to sleep, they spent some time making love, learning each other, and talking about the things that had happened to her during the day. He would spend some time teaching her about his culture and customs, familiarizing her with his people. Kendra, in turn, began setting her alarm to about two hours before sunrise, and they’d share a meal, talk about how his night went, and end up making love against each time, falling asleep holding each other tight. Kendra would wake up again later in the morning and resume her work with Anais, and though the sporadic new sleeping schedule took a toll on her, she brushed it off as a temporary inconvenience.
“It’ll get better once the Great Gathering is over and done with,” she’d tell him, and he knew she was right.
Because, to their shock and relief, they had finally found out the cause of the disease.
It happened but a day before the guests would begin to arrive. The night had barely fallen and he’d awakened early, as usual, only to see Kendra sitting on the bed next to him, her hair unkempt and her face tired but ecstatic.
“It’s genetic,” she told him, each word heavy with enthusiasm. “It’s artificial and genetic.”
It took Sebastien, still woozy from sleep, a few moments to realize what she was talking about... and, when he did, the realization hit him like a hammer to the head. “Are you telling me someone actually designed this goddamned thing specifically for us?” he demanded, his tone harsh, but where a lesser woman would turn defensive, thinking he was blaming the messenger for the bad news, she took it as it was – disgust at the orchestrator of the tragedy – and simply continued.
“Not you,” she said, “We ran the tests all day, and the same sequence of alleles kept repeating over and over again, so we cross-referenced all the names in the lab results and in Beauchamp’s reports... and guess what?” Eyes wide, she grinned victoriously. “All of the victims had one of the slaves your mother brought with her when she ran off to marry your father in their ancestry.”
Now that was news.
As he quickly got dressed, Kendra told him all about their findings. They could not pinpoint the exact moment of the original infection, but because several of the infected remembering seeing odd, shallow cuts that took a little longer to heal than they should have after that night at last year’s Gathering, they suspected that Sebastien’s first instinct was right. It seemed likely the Mississippi Clan engineered what was pretty much a genetic time bomb and, after their offer of marital alliance was rejected, purposefully infected as many people from the Louisiana clan as they could as revenge for every sin they felt Sebastien’s Clan and his family had committed against them.
“I don’t know if it was a design flaw,” Kendra explained, “Or if they made the disease require a specific set of circumstances to prevent it from spreading too fast and revealing their trap too soon, but the disease needed both the person who drank the blood and the donor to share those specific recessive genes in order to activate.” Her brow furrowed a bit. “It was a monstrous thing to do... but, also... kind of brilliant,” she admitted, though she clearly felt morally conflicted about admiring something so foul.
“It is,” he nodded. “Both of those things.” He knew she was not looking for his approval, but also that she wouldn’t feel nearly as bad about understanding the kind of talent and hard work it took to devise such a scheme if he showed her that he understood it too.
Unfortunately, a cure did not seem possible. “We could screen everyone for the reagents,” Anais told him. “And give them a list of people they should not feed or feed on under any circumstances, but that’s it. Those already infected... they’re lost.” She cried then, inconsolable, and he held her close until she was able to function again. The news broke his heart for the people they were going to lose, but there was nothing to do for them but make their last days as comfortable as possible.
Breaking the news to his father was a task Sebastien took on himself. Baptiste Roche, the Clan King of Louisiana, had woken up several times during the past week and seemed mighty pleased with Kendra. “She’ll keep you on your toes, that one,” he told his son, pride and joy in his voice. “But it’ll just make you love her more.”
Grinning, Sebastien nodded in agreement. He already knew the world would be a bleak place without Kendra in it, and he couldn’t wait to formally make her his Queen. They’d begun the preparations for the Bonding rite, one which would tie their life-forces together and make it so that they aged and grew old at the same pace. Vampire couples didn’t need to bother with that, the longevity of their relationships all but set in stone, but mixed couples chose to undergo it even though it mean the vampire of the pair was looking at a shortened life span. To Sebastien, like many other vampires before him, this did not seem like such a large sacrifice. He wanted to spend his life with Kendra, no matter how long or short – and she felt the same, as evidenced by the fact that all he needed to do to convince her to go through with it with him was tell her what the end result was.
“Don’t worry about me,” Baptiste told Sebastien, when his son told him about the results of his investigation and his sister’s work. “I’ve had a good, long life, I was lucky enough to Bond twice, and I raised a worthy heir to the Clan Throne. I’d be greedy to ask for more.” The only request his father had was to make the Mississippi bastards pay.
And tonight, the main eve of the Grand Gathering, hosted by their own Clan Home, was the perfect night to do it.