Rosalyn’s moans filled the studio. She kept a hand buried in Eric’s hair as he fed from her thigh in short, hard pulls. Every punctuated suck drew hot shocks of pleasure from her fangs down to her groin. He sucked. He waited briefly to let the aftershock ricochet through her. Then he sucked again, relentless, never once breaking eye contact with her. He wanted her to watch him. She had not quite bargained how much her vampiric senses were thrilled to watch him back.
“Humans wriggle,” he said, pausing to explain. He held her abdomen with the flat of his hand. “Especially if you’re making this pleasurable for them. Always immobilize your meal.” He delved back to business with a growl and she could not help the sounds she let out then. The heel of his palm pressed above her pubis, creating a suggestive pressure inches from where she burned to be touched. It did not matter that he was trying to keep things above board. She squirmed, breasts tingling and needing friction between her legs. His free hand curled beneath her knee, holding her steady. She could not help but imagine what other things that hand might do if she allowed it. She closed her eyes and let the waves of sensation spiral through her.
He paused again. “What is the count?”
“Six,” she murmured. Six, quarter-pint sips. Just over 700mL, she calculated. Almost a quarter of her blood volume. Eric was distracting her with stupid math problems while her traitorous body was teetering one aggressive slurp away from bliss. Her thoughts must have been loud because he chuckled and spanked her haunch. “Open your eyes, kitten. I’m not done with you yet.”
The next time he asked for the count, she had lost track. Her fists were twisted in the sheets. He continued until the light in the room tilted at bleary angles in her vision and her bonds felt cold and very far away. Eric appeared at her side and nuzzled her cheek. “Let the experience flow over you. There’s nothing to be frightened of. Simply understand what the blood loss feels like. If you were a human, you’d be dead.”
If she were human, she would have found being drained terrifying. As it was, she wanted to eat Eric alive. The only thing stopping her was how odd her senses felt. “The room is off-kilter. I can’t smell anything,” she said.
“I’m right here.” He found her hand among the tangled sheets and clasped it. “For the record, I let you do far worse to me when you were sick.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He shushed her and pulled her to his bare chest, spooning her. “I’d like my blood back,” she said, feeling disembodied and safe in his arms.
“You’ll get it. Let our magicks mingle for a moment.” His voice was unusually rich. It was the sound of half of her power inside him. Eric had warned her that such a major exchange was tantamount to a little making. It would strengthen them both. He was soaring, and soon she would be too.
He took his time savoring their closeness. A strong arm tucked around her chest and he held her close with a hand at the base of her throat. His breath tickled her shoulder. The predator in him still wanted to bite. The man in him pressed insistently into her backside. And something utterly charming made Eric repeatedly run the soft tops of his feet against the arches of her soles.
“You feel incredible inside me,” he purred, nibbling her earlobe. “Don’t ever forget that we trust each other like this. We’ve held each other’s life force inside our bodies.”
“I guess sex seems pretty impersonal after this.”
Eric hummed in agreement. “This is only the beginning, my bonded.” He kissed her apprehensively, searching her face for another rejection. When none followed, he bit into his wrist. Drinking from himself, he leaned down to share.
“Eric,” she chastised. He smiled crookedly, his mouth full. Rolling her eyes, she let him feed her. The immortal elixir instantly re-energized her and her hunger short-circuited the last of her resistance. She growled and put heat into the kiss, digging her nails into his pecs. Rosalyn pushed him roughly onto his back. “Give me more,” she demanded.
He grinned in delight. “Come get it.”
She grabbed him by the wrists and hopped over him. She tried to latch onto his throat. He freed a hand easily and stopped her. “Nope. I am your elder.”
She sat back, nails raking pink lines down his sides. “You let me before.”
“Consider those newborn freebies. It’s high time you play by the rules.”
“When have ‘the rules’ ever concerned Eric Northman?”
His nostrils flared in amusement. “When they work in my favor,” he said and winked. “You can’t deny I’ve been extremely well-behaved. Be a good girl and return the gesture.”
“I couldn’t feel less like a ‘good girl’ if I tried.” Eric’s denial woke a possessiveness in her she had not previously known. The need to remind him who she was to him boiled in her veins, instinctive and urgent.
Eric jumped when fangs hit his abdomen. Rosalyn’s hazel eyes flicked up at him, shining. “You are mine,” she said, before biting him again. He gasped and grabbed the back of her head. He had wanted this all along. It was this same urge that had been driving him mad for weeks.
“That’s my girl,” he said, sucking in a breath. She dug her teeth in harder and he grunted. She claimed him again and again, in clean bites as he had done to her. She worked her way up his chest. Only when she reached his neck did she pause. He was panting beneath her. “You may,” he relented, exposing the column of his throat. “Since you asked nicely. Go ahead.”
She let the tips of her teeth dance over his jugular. Her tongue sneaked out and tasted his skin. “You’re going to regret your ‘rules’ in the long nights to come. You’ll think of how good it felt when my power filled you. You’ll remember how you taught me to bite you so well, and you’ll yearn for the delicious sting of my claim in your throat.”
Eric winced in need, his canines dropped in full. “Gods, baby. Please…” he said. Rosalyn was fairly certain Eric had never once said ‘please’ to her in all the time she had known him. Still, she was resolved to let him wait. She slid down his prone body, avoiding the angry strain in his boxers, and spread his long legs wide. He audibly swallowed.
He reached down blindly and hiked the hem of silk covering his right thigh. He crooked his leg to give her a better view. She stroked the exposed place with her thumb. Twin scars raised like braille on his otherwise perfect skin. She laughed in surprise and looked up. She would recognize the shape of the fangs that had made the silvery signature anywhere. “You have a calling card.”
Eric nodded, proud and shy. He drew a jagged line from his knee to the inside of his groin, tracing out an invisible knife wound. “The wound that should have killed me. Godric left his maker’s mark here so that I would never forget who saved me.”
It was the only scar on his body. Vampires were all enhanced when they were turned, but none so much as Godric’s progeny. All of their blemishes and imperfections had been erased. Rosalyn wondered if, in time, she would forget the fleshly history of childhood falls and careless scrapes that had once patterned her skin. She glanced down her breast. “I don’t have one.”
Eric’s lips quirked. “He made you immaculate. It was you who saved him.”
She traced a circle over his knee with a finger. “You were a warrior. You must have been covered in battle scars.”
He chuckled. “Among other things. I was a mess. I had tattoos that Goði removed too.”
“What? Why?” she asked, feeling violated on his behalf.
“Like I said, the first thing he ever said to me was that I looked like shit. He didn’t like them. They weren’t well done and they didn’t honor me. More importantly, they would have easily identified me, as his do. Such obvious marks are a liability in the long run. You can’t lie about who you are when you need to.”
Rosalyn bit back an embarrassed smile. “That’s why you were so passionate about Godric’s mark on me. ‘A supreme mark of honor’ you called it. We are the only two people on earth who bear it. Well…were.”
“You carry that mark on your soul, my beautiful girl. It will always be there. Whole nations and languages and gods will be born and die and still you will be Godric’s. The only downside to Maker’s method is that we really, really do not blend in with mortals – or other vampires, for that matter.”
“Godric made you blend in only to make you stand out.” She shook her head in amusement. “He’s rather vain about his creations, isn’t he?”
Eric stroked the hair away from her face. “He has every reason to be.”
Rosalyn dropped to her elbows for a closer look. Eric’s mark was the most private thing he had ever shared with her. It was beautiful. She leaned in to press her lips over the spot, grateful that Godric had once done the same to save the Viking. Just as she was about to settle a kiss there, a firm hand jerked her back. “No, Rosalyn,” he said sharply. “Absolutely never, ever there. That is not yours.”
“I wasn’t going to bite!”
“I didn’t know whether you knew better.” Eric exhaled his panic. “I should have explained. I don’t even let Pamela touch me there.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry. You wanted to show me. So I know. I meant no disrespect.”
He caught her by the arm as she tried to move away. “It’s okay. Show me that I can trust you. Finish.”
She kissed the place reverently, no more than a brush of her lips. “Thank you for sharing,” she whispered into his skin.
He shifted his weight and offered the artery on the other thigh. “Now. That spot is all yours.” She nestled in, ready for things to get very real, very quick. She could not control her empathic touch. In all likelihood, she was going to wreck Eric. He appeared quite enthusiastic about the prospect. “No thinking about Michael or Godric,” he warned her. “Don’t you dare let your mind wander. Eyes on me, kitten.”
A/N: Thoughts? Theories? Leave a comment in the box below. Reviewers get a very fangy Eric in nothing but black silk boxers. :F