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Contains
ADULT material
Part
8
As Jessica relaxed he pushed
himself off her and onto the bed, turning his face away, trying
to force away the signs of this new arousal. He allowed her to
push him over onto his back, but kept his eyes tightly closed
as she ran a hand along his breast bone. When he finally looked
up at her his eyes were still blue, but she mistook the hungry
look to mean the same as she was feeling.
"My turn," she whispered,
running her tongue over her lips, and she showed him that his
need was as great as hers.
Their love making was passionate
and long, both finding that it had been too long since they had
taken pleasure in another's body like that. They found a myriad
of ways to give each other and themselves pleasure and it was
well into the night when they finally found their sexual desires
almost fed. They relaxed into a now familiar position, he on top,
caught in the tight grip of her thighs, she underneath, revelling
in the control she had over his movements.
He had pushed himself up on his
arms and his eyes were closed. She could feel that there was a
difference in him and she suddenly remembered where he had found
her. He would be gone tomorrow, that she knew, and the whole futility
of her sham of a life hit her. When he opened his long lashed
lids, she almost knew what she would see.
The golden gaze should have filled
her with terror, instead it gave her a hope she had not felt in
a long time.
"Do you want life or death?"
he asked in a husky voice as he fought the hunger which threatened
to take away his sanity.
The only way to save her was
to run, but for that she had to release him. He knew her answer
before she spoke as her legs gripped even tighter.
"Kill me," she said
calmly and turned her head to one side.
There was no second chance, he
could control the desire no-longer, and all he could do was as
he was bid. His teeth sank into the flesh of her neck even as
their bodies remained locked in mortal joining. She let out a
little sob at the initial pain, but it soon turned into a moan
of pleasure. As he drained her she came again and her body was
totally taken by the sensation.
She lay beneath him, pale and
barely breathing and without faltering he pulled away from her.
He was sated and blood dripped from his chin as he dug his thumb
nail into his wrist. His skin was warm now, but hers was getting
colder by the second. Putting the cut to her mouth was easy and
even in her unconscious state she suckled like a babe. He was
exhausted by the time he ran his tongue over the wound, closing
it, and he quickly collapsed on the bed. Both sank into untroubled
sleep soon afterwards.
They'd told him that they were
scouring the city for Richie, but Frank was pretty sure they wouldn't
find him. He'd spoken to the peculiar half breed long enough to
know that if he did not want to be found, no-one would stand a
chance. It was the beginning of a beautiful morning and the cop
watched as the sun began to rise over the water. Why he had come
to the place that always reminded him of Alexandra, he couldn't
say, but today he had wanted to be here. It was only as the bridge
turned crimson in the light of the new day that he realised he
wasn't alone.
"Morning, Frank," Richie
said with half a smile as the police officer whirled to face him,
"I figured you be here."
That begged the question how,
but the cop decided he really didn't want to know.
"Yeah, well I thought you'd
be avoiding everybody," Frank commented, recovering his composure
with long practised skill.
"I am," the younger
individual replied, "but I thought I'd check in just to make
sure no-one gets jumpy."
In the rich dawn, Richie still
looked pale, but as Frank took a moment to examine his face the
Immortal did seem somewhat more lucid. There were large grey patches
under his eyes, and his hair was unbrushed, but all in all he
looked to be in much better shape than the day before.
"Your friend, MacLeod,"
the police officer decided to explain exactly what was going on,
"Julian told him just about everything last night. They're
working together to find you."
Much to Frank's surprise, his
words caused his companion to laugh.
"What's so funny?"
he enquired, just a little annoyed at the lack of seriousness
with which Richie seemed to view everything.
"Oh, just thinking what
they'd get if they tried to embrace Mac," was the truthful
reply. "You see, Frank, I'm almost sure I know what's happened
to me, I can feel it. I'm beginning to remember what I've been
doing these past couple of days. The embrace set free all the
Quickenings of the Immortals I've killed, and I've been merging
and swapping personalities ever since. I'm loosing the ability
to do all those weird Kindred things, but I'm regaining my sanity.
Not a bad trade, don't you think?"
He grinned as the continuation
of the thought entered his mind.
"I'm small fry as far as
Immortals go," he continued slowly, "Kristov and friends
are but a handful of heads. I became a Toreador equivalent to
all of them stacked on top of each other, and if they ever tried
something like that with Mac it would be like Armageddon. He'd
truly make a Kindred from hell. A couple of hundred people all
in the one body with the ability to kick ass, big time."
Even Frank had to grin at that:
he could just picture the look on Julian's face.
"Not a pretty thought,"
he commented dryly.
A small chuckle escaped Richie's
mouth, but soon afterwards he became serious again.
"If you see him," the
younger man said slowly, "tell Mac I'm okay and I'll see
him soon. I think I've worked out what will bring me back, all
the way. I'm going to finish what I came here to do, then we can
go home."
The reply was a solemn nod from
his companion, and the cop made no move to follow him as he turned
and walked away. There was no need to explain anything else, Frank
would find out everything eventually.
The room was in total darkness
as she woke, and even before she opened her eyes, Jessica knew
she was alone. He was gone, and there was a small ache in her
heart was she knew he would never be coming back. On the table
next to the bed there was a hand written note with her name on
the front. Turning on the light as she picked it up, she began
to read.
Dear Jess, I'm sorry, but one
night is all I can give you. The creature I am as I write this
will no-longer exist by the time it gets dark again. I was never
supposed to be Kindred, it is opposed to what I really am, and
the power is fading already. I don't know what I would have done
if your pain hadn't called out to me last night. I think giving
you what I can never have helped me on the return to my real life.
You must learn what it is that you are now. Go to the Haven night-
club as soon as it gets dark and ask for Alexae. His is my sire,
and I think that he will love you more than he could ever love
me. Know that you are Toreador, and be proud of it. Sleep through
the day, love, and go to Alexae before the hunger becomes too
great. He will teach you, and he will understand.
Goodbye, Richie
She let one blood tear fall on
the paper, and then she put it aside. Curling up in the covers,
away from the single crack of light between the curtains she thought
of the night before. Her life up `til now had been empty, and
without knowing how she realised that there was a family waiting
out there for her. It was a family of blood, and she went back
to sleep with an image of a man in her thoughts.
It was day, he should have been
sleeping, but Alexae could not put aside the thoughts of what
he had done. Ever since Richie had attacked him and left, the
bond of sire to childe had been somehow broken. He had no sense
of the Kindred he had made, as if the raw power cancelled out
all hold he had over his own creation. It saddened him, and with
the other ideas which plagued him he could not sleep.
He was lying on the bed in one
of Julian's spare rooms, but he could only close his eyes for
a minute. It was as he focused on the ceiling for the hundredth
time that he felt his soul touched. It was like the bond being
made all over again, and for a moment he thought that his childe
may have come back to him. As the initial feeling wore off, however,
he knew that the spirit which touched his was not Richie's. His
mind filled with the idea of a young woman, and suddenly he understood.
Tears ran down his cheeks as
he realised that what everyone had been saying was true: he would
never regain his creation, his Adonis was beyond his reach forever.
Yet it was not only sorrow that caused the red streaks on his
face, because he also realised that his gift had not been rejected
completely. Alexae knew that the new Kindred in his thoughts was
a gift from Richie, the power had been passed on and this woman
would come to him.
The message Richie had given
to Frank had been passed on, and the police officer had been politely
asked to turn up at the Haven when evening came around again.
All his instincts told the cop that the night-club would be a
very bad place for him to be at the moment ... after the previous
night, but Luna hadn't seen it that way. Since Frank hadn't seen
hide nor hair of the younger Immortal since their earlier meeting,
and he really wanted to know what was going on, despite his reservations,
he showed up.
He was walking along the sidewalk
towards the entrance of the club when a car pulled up beside him.
It's presence had barely registered on the preoccupied man's mind
when he felt himself grabbed from behind and bundled into the
vehicle. Somebody threw a coat over his head and a grip like iron
pinned him to the floor. He didn't need much more to realise that
he'd been snatched by Kindred. The only questions remaining were:
by whom, and for what purpose. After a few moments he gave up
struggling: the hands that held him would not give, and he was
just hurting himself.
From across the other side of
the study, Lillie watched Duncan as he paced back and forwards.
They were waiting for Julian to appear, and then they would be
going to the Haven to liaise with other members of the clans.
The Highlander hadn't spoken to her much since the previous evening,
and he seemed very edgy as he wore a groove in the carpet.
"I'm sorry this happened,"
the Primogen of the Toreador clan said suddenly, much to her companion's
surprise. "Alexae is my guest, this is my fault."
The look she received from Duncan
said he wasn't quite sure whether to let her condemn herself or
not. Eventually his generous nature won through and he could maintain
the silence no longer.
"You couldn't control his
actions anymore than I could have controlled Richie's," the
Immortal finally said. "I know I'm standing here blaming
you, but that's just me, I'm blaming everyone including myself.
The moment I realised that you were still the same I should have
turned around and walked out, taking Richie with me. I'm always
reminding Richie that his libido will get him into trouble, and
what did I do, but go and follow my hormones like a kid."
Lillie had to smile at that,
she could have been a little more careful herself. There was an
animal attraction between the two, and both sides of the relationship
had followed it quite happily. There was a fair amount of affection
there, on both parts as well, but as they looked at each other
across the room, they knew that they would not be sharing a bed
again. An Immortal would make an interesting life partner for
a Kindred, but these two would not be exploring the possibilities.
"You have managed to get
under my skin, Duncan MacLeod," the Toreador said with a
sweet grin, "and that is very hard to do. I think perhaps
I will be glad when you choose to leave."
Duncan smiled back, quite frankly
he would be happy to leave San Francisco.
"As soon as we find Richie
I would be most happy to accommodate your wishes," he replied
honestly.
The young man in question was,
at that moment, walking down an empty street towards an old apartment
block. It had taken him all day, but with a little street wisdom,
a touch of Kindred dominance, and a lot of leg work he had tracked
down his prey. He didn't think Damon would run, and he was proved
right as he strolled up to the entrance and felt the approach
of the man in question.
"I thought you'd left the
city," the other Immortal said as he emerged from the doorway,
"and then what do I see out of my window, but you approaching.
Isn't it a little dangerous wandering around after you died in
front of an officer of the law?"
"Oh, he was an understanding
cop," Richie replied calmly, "with some strange friends.
The information about my demise is quite safe from the authorities."
The other just smiled as the
quip.
"Well it's your life,"
he returned evenly, "and it's our battle. I know this
quiet little spot just down the road. Shall we?"
He motioned in a vague direction
and began walking, Richie followed.
"So what have you been doing
with yourself for the last few days?" Damon enquired conversationally.
"I noticed your friend poking his nose in all over the place,
so I assumed you'd high tailed it out of here, without leaving
a forwarding address."
"You wouldn't believe me
if I told you," the younger of the two replied and said no
more.
His opponent's choice of battle
ground was an old abandoned lot, with a high, wooden fence around
it. The two Immortal's had no trouble forcing their way through
the slats where many a school child had been before them. The
ground was quite uneven, but Richie wasn't really bothered, he'd
trained on worse.
"I can't promise I won't
cheat," the older of the two said as he discarded his coat
and pulled out his sword. "My survival instinct is very strong
these days, and honour seems such a handicap."
"Oh don't worry," was
the even reply, "I'm not quite the same person you left dead
in the alley. I'll cope."
They saluted each other in a
vaguely gentleman-like way, and then they started manoeuvring
for position. The lot was relatively well lit by a couple of street
lamps, but it was much easier for Richie than it was for Damon.
Senses still heightened by Kindred blood found it easy to pick
out every hole that could cause a fall, and every stone that could
trip a person. Even as the first blow was struck, it was obvious
who was the superior by quite a long way.
What was left of the Toreador
speed and agility gave Richie more than just an edge, and as the
clash of steel ran out, the look on Damon's face said he realised
that something had changed. Strike, followed parry, followed lunge,
and the older Immortal couldn't land a cut on his opponent. Every
time he thought he saw an opening it turned out to be a feint.
As he went for it, Richie would dance out of the way and bring
down a carefully aimed blow somewhere else. It was like fighting
a ghost: one minute he was there and the next he was gone, attacking
from another position.
End
of Part 8
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