Fire Ch. 06

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Enithermon
Enithermon
1,049 Followers

"Didn't I say you'd do fine?"

She breathed out and slumped faintly in relief.

"Though" he continued, still gripping her wrist and reaching out to pull the knife from her hand,

"you might consider holding it a little higher," he paused, sliding his hand over hers and rewrapping her fingers over the handle with his own, "to give you more control, and reduce the chance of it being knocked out of your hand."

She coughed out a laugh at that, still panting from the sudden rush of fear. "I wasn't exactly worried about finesse."

His expression grew into a mild smile. "This is efficiency. Finesse is for dilatants. The rest of us are just interested in getting the job done and walking away from it." He released her and arched a brow as he turned away, his cloak following in a dramatic eddy after him. "Now you also know why I wanted you to stay inside" he added as he walked away towards the dwelling's entrance.

She gave the back of his head an exasperated look. "That doesn't count, you don't play fair...not human, remember?" she called after him, turning one of his favourite phrases back on him. He didn't turn around or stop, but he waved a hand at her.

"It will never be fair, it never is." He called idly as he began to fade into the darkness.

She watched him disappear and finally decided to go after him, noting as she walked in his tracks that there were none but her own left in the clearing leading towards her. 'How does he do that?' she wondered as a tremulous sensation ran up her spine.

Sometimes it was easy to forget what he was, that he was...something else. She almost didn't see the blood drinking as odd anymore, just an integral part of the rest of it, another sort of pleasure, potent though it may be. But the other reminders were almost always unsettling. She was also still a little shaken by the unexpected attack. Even if it hadn't been real, it was still a reminder in itself of the danger she was in. This, she supposed, had been his design. It was also a reminder of what he was capable of, and of what he did for a living, something she was still not certain she fully grasped the consequences of.

He was gone, and the night was frigid. She pulled her cloak tighter to her body and picked up her speed.

Jairus watched smiling as Thea shook out her cloak and hung it on a hook inside the darkened store room then proceeded to move from room to room checking and leaving each with a growing look of consternation etched on her face. He followed her up the stairs at a distance. He had taken his time gathering his information, visiting each town further and further south, following Maria's path, 'tracking' a woman he didn't need to track. It felt a bit like play acting, but it was useful. At least he knew what the 'others' knew, and likely before they did.

Returning to her village had been difficult and frustrating. Unfortunately they were quick to confirm both Maria's identity and the midwife's suspicions, and quickly provided a name and description for the daughter. It took some prodding to discover more, as few wished to discuss her apparent demise at their collective hands and most who would speak seemed appropriately sheepish about the matter.

There were a few who were less than apologetic however, and it was those cases which made the experience a trial of will. Not his will over theirs, that was a 'no-contest', but his will against the overwhelming urge to exact revenge for her mistreatment in slow and creative ways. Such an act might be taken the wrong way however, and he had no intention of risking exposure just yet, not after all the care he'd taken to make the right impression, and ask the right questions, in case someone else came asking after him.

Besides, it might seem suspicious if people with relevant information went missing so soon after speaking with him, and he knew there were others in 'the guild' who would be more than happy to find a way to take over the job, if they weren't trying already, or even find a way to be rid of him entirely. As far as he knew, there were none like him, but some were remarkably competent.

The villagers, who would talk about 'the witch,' generally concurred that she had died, but a few admitted that there was no body, and no trace, other than the bloodied ropes left behind. He knew that his competition would take this to mean she had escaped, and would check the surrounding area for a sign of her.

Their one stroke of good fortune was the fact that she'd not left this place since he'd brought her here, and no one would have seen her on route.

Theoretically he should be investigating the surrounding towns if he wanted to continue this farce, but he'd been so nearby he couldn't resist taking the detour home. That was the second major frustration of visiting her village. He couldn't help but be reminded of her, and her nearness. He had meant to finish his inquiries before returning and hopefully convince the Huroth to abandon the task of finding her when she'd clearly vanished. Of course he doubted they would, but it was worth an attempt before he had to start taking more extreme measures. The quickest and quietest way was always the best one...or so he usually thought at least...then again, he reconsidered eyeing the woman who was now knocking on and hesitantly opening his bedroom door, 'quick and quiet' wasn't exactly a universal rule. 'In fact', the thought, slipping silently into the room behind her, and closing the door a little harder than he needed to, making her start and whirl, 'in fact, sometimes the opposite was far more satisfying.'

"Looking for me?"

Thea stifled her gasp and gave him a half hearted glare.

"Stop that. I hate it when you sneak up on me."

He looked rather amused by that. "Liar." His smile tightened and he leaned in towards her, his hands behind his back, and inhaled deeply enough for her to notice. "You give yourself away. I can hear it," his smile widened, revealing just the barest hint of fang in the corner of her eye,

"and smell it." She stiffened and suppressed her blush.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She muttered as he pulled away and walked past her, tossing his cloak on the foot of the bed and slumping into a chair pushing off his boots and closing his eyes, a good humoured but still self-satisfied smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're in a good mood. Should I be worried? Or did you just bring happy news, like the lot of them fell off the edge of the world and won't be bothering us anymore?" She watched his mouth as she spoke, fighting the urge to run over and throw herself in his lap and kiss the smug right off of it. And then some. Why stop there after all.

But she'd was damned if she was going to give him the satisfaction after that last comment.

"Why is it that people seem overly concerned about my good moods?"

She wondered who else comprised, 'people.' The question seemed rhetorical so she just shrugged.

"Good news then?" She did want to know, truly, but other thoughts were pressing into her mind and distracting her making the question sound slightly flat.

"Actually, no." His eyes remained shut. "Do you want the good or bad news first?"

"Bad."

He tapped the arm of the chair with one finger.

"There are more of them looking for you now...and I haven't ascertained how many yet, or their intentions...but for safety's sake we might assume the worst."

"More?"

"Indeed."

"Bloody hell."

"Indeed."

"I hope the good news is incredibly good then."

"Well, you're still safe here, no one could have followed you or know where you disappeared to."

"Oh goody." She muttered dryly. More of them. Really? What in the name of all that's holy did she ever do to have this thrust upon her. If she wasn't stuck before, it was official now. He opened his eyes at that and smirked up at her. Somehow, without really noticing when, she'd walked herself over to the chair to hover over him, her leg nearly brushing his.

"You sound ecstatic."

"You have no idea."

He sighed and shrugged, his face turning suddenly somber. "I will do what I can to end this quickly, but I can't promise you it will be easy."

She shook her head. "No, I know. Don't mind me, I just like to feel sorry for myself. Please, don't think I don't appreciate what you're doing for me." She reached out without thinking, touching his arm to assure him of her sincerity. The contact sent an unexpected sensation, like a shock, running up her arm. She pulled away, startled by the feeling.

He captured her hand in his before she could retreat and brought the back of it to his lips, brushing them over the knuckles and down along the fingers. She felt another shiver of sensation, this one making her spine twitch. She felt suddenly hyper aware of the coldness of his hand, the way his fingers slid caressingly up the center of her palm, and the way his leg had fallen to the side pressing lightly into her own leg.

She reached up with her free hand to gingerly run the blade of her finger along the hollow of his cheek, all thoughts of smugness or pride forgotten. She turned, her fingers still entwined with his as she sat lightly on his knee watching his eyes. His smile returned, but it was gentler this time.

He wrapped an arm about her waist and pulled her more firmly against him. The little shivers were almost continuous now as she curled into him, his hand disentangling from hers to run the tips of his own long fingers over her cheek, jaw, and throat. She felt her whole body light up as they slowed almost compulsively over the veins, his eyes following the line of her neck to rest there as well.

He smiled faintly as he heard her heart being to race, pounding harder against his own chest, the lower he drew his fingers. He lingered over her pulse enjoying the throbbing call that sung to him from beneath her warm taunt skin.

He watched her lips part in anticipation and drew his fingers back up to trace his thumb along the bottom curve of her mouth before following its path with his own lips. She shivered in his arms and pressed into him when he leaned back into the chair, not letting him escape her. Her hands tenderly cupped his face as she dusted his mouth with tentative, feather light kisses that belied the anxious tension he felt coursing through the rest of her that made her breath come out in faint shaky gasps against his mouth.

She pulled away, looking into his eyes, her own painted with confused expectancy. When he did nothing but gaze back at her she cocked her head and frowned slightly.

"Have you eaten?"

He repressed his smile and nodded when her hands slid to his chest. He was not surprised to see disappointment in her eyes, but the brief flit of irritation was unexpected. It looked almost like anger, or...jealousy. He narrowed his eyes at her and tipped his head. She wriggled uncomfortably under his glare causing him to hold his breath to keep from letting out a groan as she inadvertently rubbed herself against his erection. He'd been hard as a rock since he'd seen her standing luminous in the moonlight and snow, now it was just becoming painful, and she wasn't helping.

"You seem upset by that."

She stiffened and sat straighter in his lap. He tightened his grip so she couldn't try to escape.

"Certainly not. Why should I be?"

He'd never met a worse liar in his life. Even if he couldn't hear her heart accelerating, it was still written all over her face.

"You're not jealous are you?"

He watched her eyes flare and mouth tighten. So she was then. She didn't want to share. The silent confirmation filled him with a sudden and violent heat which caused his fangs to elongate and made him tighten his hold on her before he could rein the feeling in. He leaned into her, hiding the evidence of his need against her hair and throat.

He took a breath and let out a chuckle that sounded a little thick to his ears.

"I know it's hard to believe," he intoned lowly,

"but as delightful a combination as it can be," he slid a hand up her spine and wrapping his fingers around the back of her neck, her responsive shudder making his fingers constrict involuntarily pulling a low moan from her as well, "we don't typically combine dinner with sex, so you needn't be concerned." He finished, dragging his mouth over her flesh.

"What about me?" She asked huskily, her forehead resting on his shoulder.

"You are different. It would be like comparing porridge to..." he paused trying to remember something comparably delicious and came up short.

"Chocolate cake?" She offered softly.

He laughed against her neck again. "Is that your favourite?"

"Yes." Her voice was lower than a whisper.

"Then yes. Chocolate cake."

He couldn't see her face, but he knew she was smiling.

They sat there a long time, her head buried against his shoulder, his mouth lingering over her neck.

"Well?"

"Well what?" He asked knowing she was as anxious as he to feel his teeth pressing into her. It was difficult to restrain himself, but hearing her plead made it worth the wait.

She snickered nervously, twisting her fingers under the collar of his vest. "Dessert?"

He gripped her thigh and let out a low growl.

"Are you offering?"

She shifted again. "Maybe."

He opened his mouth and dragged the tips of his teeth down her throat, pressing them softly into the crook of her neck before withdrawing. He listened to her sigh of frustration and captured the end of it with a long slow kiss. Her tongue slid eagerly against his, brushing against his fangs suggestively.

He skimmed his hands up over her stomach and the swell of her breast, tugging carefully at the laces of her shirt and letting the material fall open so that his fingers could glide over the length of her collarbone unhindered. Her breathing deepened and her fingers gripped his clothes more urgently. Her kiss became more urgent as well, and he couldn't help but release his own sound of pleasure at the soft whimpers she made as she forced her mouth against his.

He felt her tongue trace the length of one fang, then pause at the tip, and before he could respond she pressed against it puncturing herself on the sharp point.

She shifted again as the trickle of blood ran over his own tongue, coating his mouth with the taste of her. She crawled over him, not breaking the kiss, kneeling astride his lap. He let her prevail for the moment, unable to deny the enthralling flavour or the draw of her warm little body cleaving to him. Her insistence and desire were more than intoxicating, and when she pulled away from the kiss, her mouth red with lust and her own blood, her eyes fiery and blackened, it took every ounce of control to keep from giving in and ripping into her with complete abandon.

He had always been a selfish and stubborn creature. He wanted more, and he would have it and his way.

He returned her searing look but only gripped her waist hard and clenched his jaw when she pulled the rest of her blouse open and tipped her head back and to the side, exposing the long column of her neck and smooth globes of her breasts at once. She was a feast in all senses of the word.

He growled again against the hunger that raced in red waves through his body. He'd come home fully fed, hoping it would dull the edge of his need, make it easier to control himself in her arms, but it seemed to make little difference now. This wasn't that kind of hunger. This craving was entirely for her, and she was the only one who could sate it.

He reached for her, weighing the supple flesh of one breast in his hand, imprisoning it with his fingers while plucking at the hard wine coloured nipple. She gasped and rocked towards him, grinding her body against his. He could feel the heat of her sex even through their clothes and used his free hand to tug at her skirt, allowing her legs to spread wider before wrapping his arm around her hips to crush her heat to him, ensuring she was quite aware of his own insistent arousal.

She broke from his gaze, closing her eyes, and tipping her head even further back. She could only have been more explicit if she spelled it out for him, and he had every intention of making her. He wanted to hear her words, her pleas, his name on her lips, to hear her beg desperately, 'take me,' 'bite me,' 'I want you, please...'. It was, all of it, nearly as sweet as the blood that still lingered in his mouth, and he drank it in just as impatiently.

She let out a low growl of her own and looked him in the eye again. Behind the dark desire he saw hints of confusion, or doubt. 'We can't have that now, can we,' he thought curving his mouth into a rapacious smile. He pulled at her breast again, this time less gently, and pressed his hips up to meet hers as a reminder.

"Are you going to make me beg?" The dusky sound of her voice made his cock twitch and his smile widen. "Do you like making me beg?" She asked with unmasked frustration.

"Yes." He snaked the hand around her waist back up the grove of her spine and curled his fingers into the hair that swept from the nape of her neck.

"Why?" The question was lost in a gasp as he tightened his fingers causing her head to tip back abruptly and a lingering tremor to skitter through her body.

"I like the sound of your voice." He whispered lightly as he languidly drew her towards him, his parted lips tracing the lines of her shoulder. He could feel her trembling against him now and her anticipation made the air thick around them and it played on his own like a harp. He skirted his teeth over her skin again, watching her through half lidded eyes as he felt her fingers mimic his and bury themselves in his hair aggressively.

"Say it." His voice was low, but tight with need and restraint.

"Say it." He demanded again, his voice becoming more harsh than he had intended, but he wanted her too much right now to stop it.

She shook in his arms, but didn't answer.

"Thea..." she ground into him rhythmically.

"Please..." he gasped pressing the tips of his fangs into her, marking the skin, but not penetrating it.

She whimpered.

"Jairus."

He closed his eyes.

"Jairus, please." She rocked against him, gripping him to her. "I need you." She whispered heatedly.

The heat that had rushed through him before flooded his senses completely now, making his chest ache.

'I need you'. The words rode through him on the tide of that heat and he groaned against her throat. He had thought nothing could have sounded sweeter than that first 'I want you,' she had blurted out two weeks ago, but he'd been wrong. This...this was so much better.

"Jairus?" she whispered again, her voice full of want and desperation, fear and need. He remembered himself, remembered what she'd been begging for, what every inch of him was also begging for, and ended their torture. He plunged into her, into her warmth, into the hot rush of pleasure, and blissfully let himself drown in it, in her.

The first dark wave rushed through her. The world seemed to pitch unsteadily and she clung to the solid body beneath her as her sight blurred and her pulse thrummed and fluttered strangely in her ears. The feeling was overwhelming, even terrifying. She'd never remembered it feeling like this. Somewhere beyond the uneven tattoo of her heart she heard a low purring sound and it vibrated through her, flooding her already throbbing sex with an agonizing heat. She writhed against the delicious torment, suddenly aware of the incredible void inside of her that ached to be filled. She could feel his hunger, his fire, moving within her and the pressure of his fangs prising her open, but it wasn't enough. She wanted all of him inside her, filling her, and she needed it now.

She gasped as she felt him break away. He too gasped, and she gazed down at him as he fell back into the chair panting. Her vision still swam, but she could see the dazed expression he wore. He had broken their connection, but her terrible want had not diminished.

Enithermon
Enithermon
1,049 Followers