Earth, Sun, and Moon Saga Ch. 07

"And it didn't work."

James shook his head. "Understatement of the year. Made it worse. See, I wanted to change fields completely. No more rescue medicine. No more dead bodies. No more friends blown all to shit. I thought studying environmental ecology would be helpful. Get back to nature, help the planet, you know? But it was a dead end."

"Why?"

"Because I was still lost. Adrift. Drowning." Then added, "Until now."

"When Gwen found you."

"Not just her." James took a step toward her.

"Yeah, I guess Ash would save you from drowning. That's kind of her thing."

"She's great, don't get me wrong. But not her either."

Lenore scowled at his implication. "Don't mess with me."

"I'm not."

James had closed the distance between them. He was taller than her, causing her to have to look up. His eyes were fixated on hers, unnervingly so. In fact, no man had looked at her with that intensity in . . . she couldn't remember.

"Then what do you mean?" Lenore asked.

"It's funny, actually," James said. "I suspected I had died yesterday. That your sisters were a hallucination or a dream. Hell, Gwen had given me some sort of amnesia potion to send me on my way. I don't think I accepted any of it as real. Until I saw you."

Lenore recalled her less-than-graceful entrance, half-panicked from her encounter with a death god. She had attempted to murder James on sight before Gwen stopped her.

"Perhaps I overreacted."

"No. That's just it. When I saw you, I knew I was going to live."

Lenore searched his face for some hint that he was lying but found none. "Why aren't you scared of me?" It came out as a whisper, more timid than she intended.

"Don't you understand?" James brushed a shock of crimson hair from her face. "I went searching for death and found you."

He kissed her then, his lips feeling impossibly hot. She kissed him back, feeling warmth transfer from him to her.

When they parted, he said, "I spent years avoiding you, then years fighting you, until, finally, I went searching for you."

Now it was her turn to kiss him. She liked how he felt. Better, she liked how he made her feel. As if she were human again.

He lifted her, and she responded by wrapping her legs around his waist. In this manner, he carried her through the living room, down the short hallway, and into his bedroom. He laid her gently on the bed and separated to peel his shirt off. Lenore responded by shedding her jacket and then moving to her boots before he stopped her.

"No rush," he said, grinning. "I'm no expert on your kind but I believe we have all night."

He took her leg and gently removed one knee-high boot, unzipping the side, and feeling her calf as he did. He repeated the process to the other boot, rubbing her foot briefly before making his way up her leg. His hands were firm and wonderful, kneading her as they moved over her.

"Now," he started, "You're gonna have to help me out here. I need to know what you like."

Lenore couldn't remember the last time anyone had asked her that. Her existence as a huntress led her to be the perpetual giver, enticing her victims until she could pounce. Her sexuality was a weapon to be used, not to be enjoyed. Sometimes, usually after feeding, she fucked her prey but that was a one-time encounter, without any discussion of what she wanted. She took what she wanted. That was the point.

"I . . . don't think I know what I like."

James nodded as if he expected her to say that. "Alright. Let's go slow. We'll do a little exploration."

He ran his hands up her legs and to her hips, palming their crests before sliding around her waist. He pulled up her shirt and kissed her belly softly, working the way up from her navel to the edge of her ribs. Lenore let out a small giggle in response.

"Ticklish?"

"I guess I kinda am," Lenore admitted, to her own amazement.

"Do you like it?" He kissed her abdomen again, letting his several-day-old growth of beard tickle her again.

Lenore laughed, a little harder, and nearly pushed him off her. "I do. But I feel like I might lose control and hurt you."

"Alright," James said, taking note. "Are you scared of losing control?"

"Yes."

He lifted her shirt higher, revealing her pert breasts, and pinched one erect nipple. Lenore moaned.

"And so you feel you have to be in control even when you might not want to be in control, is that right?"

Lenore thought of the night before when James had ordered her to call him 'sir'. She'd done so, begrudgingly at first because she was just so damn horny but, she had to admit, she came harder in that brief encounter than she had in a long time.

She nodded without thinking. "Yes . . . maybe . . . I don't know."

James stopped and looked her in the eyes. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," she said without thinking. Her admission surprised her.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir," she said, grinning as the word left her lips.

"Alright. Wait here."

He pushed off and disappeared into an adjoining room. He wasn't gone long and, when he returned, he held a bundle of rope in each hand.

"Climbing rope," he explained. "Very high tensile strength. You could probably tear it apart if motivated enough but I think this will work nicely for our purposes."

"And what are our purposes?"

"Give me your hands."

She complied. James seized her wrists and slipped a loop of rope over them. When she attempted to withdraw her hands, the loop closed around her wrists.

"And what do you think you're doing?" Lenore asked, amused.

James flashed her a sardonic grin. "Giving you a night off."

"A night off? Off what?"

"A night off of being in control." James wrapped another loop around her wrists, and then a third, before wrapping the space between her wrist in a tight loop, giving her the appearance of wearing handcuffs.

"You know I can stop this at any moment."

"Sure, and you're free to do so when you choose. You can turn into bats or mist if you want."

James' bed frame was metal and he tied the other end of the rope to the head of it, forcing Lenore's arms over her head. She gave it a tentative pull and found it surprisingly secure.

James moved to her pants, unbuttoning them, and peeling them from her pale legs. He removed her panties as well, kissing her inner thigh as he did, leaving her exposed to him. Although she wasn't in any danger, she couldn't remember feeling this vulnerable with anyone before.

"I didn't get a chance to really see you last night," he said, looking over her body. "You're absolutely stunning."

"Such flattery."

He ran his hands down one leg, feeling the tension of her thigh and calf before slipping another slipknot around her ankle. He looped it around one corner of the bedframe and followed the length of rope around the other corner, finally tying off her other ankle.

She was now spread eagle on her back, her legs taut against the rope that was as secure as she suspected he could make it.

"You have a lot of practice tying women up in your bedroom?" she asked.

"Actually, no."

"Is this your kink then?"

"Also, no. But I suspect it's yours."

Lenore opened her mouth to speak but no pithy comment came.

Her shirt was still technically on, though pushed up over her tits. James climbed on top of her and moved to pull it off completely but stopped with it over her face. He moved it so it was off her mouth but still covered her eyes.

"You know I rather like you this way," James said, teasing her lips with his. "All stretched out and bare." He ran his fingertips over the skin of her chest, then her belly. It tickled in a way that made her squirm.

Soon his hands found the moistness between her legs, probing the soft folds there.

"Ohh," she gasped, the sensation taking her by surprise. She attempted to close her knees in reaction but couldn't—her legs were too firmly secured.

He worked a finger into her opening, causing her to shudder. With his other hand, he grabbed her tit and gave her nipple another pinch.

"Mmm, you can be as rough as you want with me," Lenore said. "I can take it."

"So help me separate fact from fiction: I've heard vampires have heightened senses. Ability to see in the dark, for example. But how does that correlate to physical touch?"

"That's hard to explain."

"Try me."

"You want a vampirology lesson while you're knuckle-deep in me?"

"Smartass," James snorted. "Tell me, what does silver do to a vampire's skin?"

A chill ran up her back. ". . . Nothing."

"Why the hesitation? Will it kill you?"

"No."

"Does it hurt?"

"It can burn me."

"Interesting . . . wait here." He removed his finger and left the room.

"What? Where are you going?" she asked to no avail.

She considered transforming, ending this little game before it got started, but she had to admit she was intrigued. James was much more interesting than your typical human. She focused her hearing, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

He returned after a few short minutes.

Without speaking, he began kissing her again, starting at the crest of her hips working up along her ribcage. He playfully bit her nipple, eliciting a short moan.

When he pinched her nipple again, a sharp pain followed.

"Ahh!" she cried out.

"Rough enough for you?" James asked.

"You bastard. Is that what I think it is?"

"I'm not much of a jewelry guy," he started. "But I managed to find an old silver chain." He leaned over her covered face and teased her lips with his. "And it's 'sir'."

She snapped at him, half-heartedly trying to catch him with her fangs, if only to remind him that she was dangerous. "Is that the plan then, sir? Burn me with silver? Make me scream?"

"Oh, you'll scream all right." He ran a hand ran over her pussy. "You're sopping wet. Tell me how much you want to be fucked right now."

"Or what?" she asked, still defiant.

He pulled her over to one side, her knees partially crossing as they pulled the rope tight, and slapped her bare ass. The pain was subtle at first but quickly grew to a sharp, burning throb. She realized he'd just slapped her with the silver necklace wrapped around his hand. Its contact with her skin was brief and already the pain had faded as her healing properties took over but it was effective.

"You know," she growled through clenched fangs, "I beheaded the last asshole who came at me with silver."

Another slap. She gasped now. A third made her cry out.

"You have been a nasty bitch to me for a good part of the evening," James said, calmly. "One minute you flirt with me, the next you threaten me. I think you have been wanting me to put you in your place all night. Am I close?"

"I don't know what you mean."

Another slap. She could feel her skin begin to blister.

"Aah! Alright! Yes. Is that what you want to hear?"

Another slap. She writhed under him, her arms twisting above her. "I want honesty," he said. "No more sarcastic quips. No more cynical comments. And no more telling me what you think I want to hear."

His hand palmed her ass, only this time it was without the chain. He rubbed the welt that had obviously formed, smoothing it. He let her turn on her back again and lifted the shirt off her eyes. She met his eyes and dared not look away.

"The truth is you scare me," she said. She felt bloody tears welling up in her eyes. "You intimidate me. It's such a fucking rush, I can't handle it. I don't know if I want to fuck you or kill you. And I love it. You fascinate me. Sir."

James nodded and climbed between her legs. He was naked, and he rubbed his hard cock against her labia, coating it with her juices as if it were the most casual thing in the world.

She gasped as he pushed the glands of his dick into her. He pushed in, slowly, not taking his eyes off hers. She dared not look away from him.

Supporting himself with one arm, he used the other to wipe away a tear. He sank into her, delightfully and completely, filling her.

She opened her mouth in a silent moan, wanting to wrap her legs around him but being unable to. She was at his mercy and it felt amazing.

"Oh, fuck," she whispered. She reached up to kiss him and he pulled back, teasing her.

"Tell me who you belong to," he ordered, still staring deeply into her eyes while he fucked her.

Another moan escaped her lips with the proceeding thrust. A cold fire was building in her belly, threatening to explode outward. It made her feel even more vulnerable than she already did.

"I belong to you," she said, quietly.

"What was that? I didn't hear you."

"You. I'm yours. I'm all yours."

James rewarded her with a kiss. Her admission, that act of saying it out loud, was freeing. Any reservations she'd had about him melted away, replaced with a warm feeling she couldn't put a word to.

He enveloped her like a heavy blanket, his strong arms holding hers down and his chest pushing her into the bed as his hips drove into hers. He kissed her, hard, and she whimpered into his mouth with every thrust of his hips.

When he pulled back, he looked into her eyes again.

"I see you," James said.

And Lenore came.

The ball of cold fire burst, flooding her abdomen in a wave of pleasure that flowed in all directions. It was so intense she couldn't even scream, couldn't make a sound. Every muscle in her body contracted at the same time, threatening to pull her into a ball if not for the restraints.

James didn't waver in his rhythm, fucking her through her first orgasm. The initial release of pleasure was compounded by another wave, building behind it.

Lenore felt her fangs extended without conscious control and felt the rational part of her mind ripped away until only the predator remained. She thrashed under him.

James grabbed her hair with both balled fists, pulling her head up and holding it still as she was racked by pleasure.

"That's it," James said softly. "Cum for me, baby."

She did.

"Oh fuck!" she gasped. Impossibly far away, she heard metal creaking.

Each orgasm came in a thunderous crashing wave, bleeding into each other until it was just one long convulsion. It could have lasted moments or hours, Lenore didn't know.

But she could feel James growing close to his own orgasm by the quickening of his heart.

"Don't cum inside me," she pleaded. "Please, let me drink you. I need to taste your essence, sir. Please!"

James obliged her, climbing on top of her and straddling her chest. He pointed his cock at her open mouth and gave the shaft five quick pumps.

He let out a near-painful groan as the first spurt of cum hit her tongue. She dutifully kept her mouth open until he had filled it, then swallowed his seed with a moan.

"Oh wow, you taste so good," she said, deliriously. "How do you taste so good?"

Already she could feel its effects. Like blood, drinking semen imparted life generating force within her.

James didn't answer. Instead, he scooped a stray dollop of cum into her mouth and kissed her gently on the forehead.

When he untied her, she looked around. "Sorry about your bed."

The metal mattress frame was twisted underneath them, bent in the places where the ropes were tied, and with the headboard part nearly twisted apart.

"It's alright," James said with a grin. "I'd rather you do that to the frame than to me."

Together they took the mattress off the frame and laid the frame against the wall, leaving the mattress on the floor. James collapsed onto it, pulling her back down with him.

He wrapped his arms around her and she nuzzled into his chest.

Before dreamless sleep claimed her, she realized what she'd been feeling off and on tonight, during her date with this impossibly interesting human. An odd and unfamiliar emotion, that she had little experience with.

She felt safe.

***

James woke before the first rays of the morning made themselves known. Lenore slept breathlessly next to him, cold and unmoving. He was momentarily worried until he reminded himself that she was technically dead.

He got up and closed the blinds, then took the extra step to pin a thick blanket up against the window to keep his bedroom as dark as possible. She would be safe there until it was time to recon the museum.

Until then, he had work to do.

He dressed quietly and snuck out, made a quick cup of coffee, and scarfed down a protein bar in the kitchen.

At first glance, his home office looked smaller than it should have. In it was a desk cluttered with textbooks and a comfortable reading chair. Bookshelves lined the far wall, giving the office a cozy but cramped feel.

He unlocked the hidden door, concealed in one of the rather simple built-in bookcases, swinging the heavy door open and entering what he thought of as his utility closet.

The small hidden room was essentially a custom safe he'd built almost as soon as the ink was dry on his deed. Inside were fourteen rifles, five shotguns, and another dozen pistols, most of which hung on the wall on wire racks. Ammunition was stacked on shelves and a workbench dominated the other end of the room.

He grabbed one of the hanging duffle bags and packed several firearms, considering each one before stuffing it into the bag. In it he packed a custom Glock 19 for his pistol and, after some consternation, he finally settled on the HK 416 D10RS—affectionately known as a Door Kicker—for his rifle. He'd carried both during his time in Special Operations and although the short carbine was a civilian version, it would be more than adequate for his needs.

He contemplated some more, weighing his options, then added another handgun. This one was a big revolver. The Taurus Judge had a long cylinder and could fire both standard .45 and .410, a small-caliber shotgun shell.

Then he grabbed his combat knife, ammo, and magazines for his weapons, before moving out to the garage.

There at his other workbench, with his more generalized tools, he set up a bucket and several 9-volt batteries. Next to it, he placed a glass pie pan from his kitchen.

Then he went shopping. He hit up the hobby store as soon as they opened, then went to a nearby pawn shop.

He returned about thirty minutes later with his purchases.

In the bucket and pie pan, he poured in the silver cyanide solution he'd purchased from the hobby store.

Measuring carefully, he placed his combat knife blade down in the solution, careful not to submerge the handle. Then he used a pair of junk copper wires to run current from the 9-volt battery to the solution.

When he pulled out the knife about three minutes later, the blade was shiny with a layer of silver.

He repeated the electroplating process with his ammunition. Using a plastic rack from an ammo box, he was able to submerge the bullets of ten rounds at a time in the solution of the pie pan, coating each with a thin layer of pure silver. He repeated the process with the pistol ammo until he had two magazines of silver plated ammunition for both the Door Kicker and the Glock.

The next part required him to return to the utility closet. There he pulled out an ammo press and some pliers.

.410 was generally used as a bird-hunting shell, and was significantly smaller and less powerful than a normal 12 gauge shell most shotguns use for home defense. James was going to change that.

From the pawn shop, he'd bought as much sterling silver as he could, mostly in the form of necklace chains thicker than the one he used with Lenore.

With pliers, he painstakingly deconstructed them, until he had a pile of C-shaped silver shrapnel.

Using the ammo press, he loaded five custom .410 shells with the silver shot, combined with a high powder charge. The high load would be hell on the revolver's barrel, and on the recoil, but it was only five shots and, hopefully, all he'd need.

Satisfied with his morning's work, he placed the new backpack by the front door and made himself an actual breakfast consisting of bacon, eggs, and a bagel.