Fire Ch. 11

This was it. A matter of time, it had always been just a matter of time...at least he was here. She shut her eyes as he whispered her name, and relished the feel of his fingers against her tingling cheek. She opened them to find his gaze burning into hers. That wonderful dark fire, consuming her. It drank her in and made her forget all else.

"Yes." she whispered. "Do it." She bit back a cry of pain even as the blood continued to well up in her throat. She raised a hand to his collar, grasping it hard. "Take me, I want it to be you....who...ends it."

Fingers again, against her skin. She was going, she could feel it— the numbness crawling up her body, the slow creep of death.

She fought to breathe, fought for words.

"Quickly," she gasped, "take my blood...finish ...don't let them...finish me." She gasped and her eyes grew heavy, too late. It was too late. No....please....

"No."

His denial was the last thing she heard.

**

Jairus watched in horror as her eyes fluttered closed, her flushed cheeks growing rapidly paler as the blood drained from them. 'Quickly,' she'd said. He snapped out of his frozen state, inhaling sharply. Quickly. He shuddered and lowered them to their knees, and without wasting anymore time to consider his actions, he pulled the knife from her body and slit his own wrist with it in one long movement.

He moved as quickly as she'd begged him to, knowing that as soon as he removed the thing her lungs would fill rapidly with blood, and that the growing drops of red in the snow would deepen and bloom. His own blood joined hers, first in the snow, then at her lips as he tilted her back against him. His breath came rapidly and his hands trembled as he worked her jaw open.

His wrist healed all too soon and with a growl he tore into it with his own fangs before pressing it back between her parted lips. It seemed to do little good.

"Damn it." He bit back a snarl. "Sweet one," he whispered hoarsely, "stay with me."

He watched her face for a response, a breath, a twitch...and saw nothing. He pressed his lips to her ear, begging her to drink, pleading with her in desperate whispers. Had he waited too long? Had he done something wrong?

"Thea...please."

He pulled his wrist from her mouth. He had to get his blood inside of her, somehow, that much he knew, but that was as much as he knew. He had never intended to change another, so had never learned. And what a fool he was for it.

She lay limp in his arms, her parted lips stained with both of their blood. He gripped her tightly, one hand against her nape supporting her, the other gripping her wrist and holding it to his chest in a pathetically futile and beseeching gesture. He felt it then, the faintest pulse, tiny and weak against his finger tips. It was not too late. He had to try something. His eyes searched the snow desperately and he found the knife he'd discarded.

Taking a deep breath he reached around her, pressing her back against his chest and took her left hand in his right, twining their fingers together so that their hands lay palm to palm. He laid the knife between them and slit their palms first, pressing them together tightly even as the blade slide across the skin, then with another deep breath did the same between their joined wrists.

He gasped as, instead of the wound closing as he'd expected, something else happened.

The fingers twined with hers tightened reflexively as their very flesh seemed to bind at the wound and something like fire of hunger shot through his veins. His head spun as another gasp inducing pang ran through his body, this time more reminiscent of another sort of desire. He shut his eyes, riding the sensation like a wave.

It was as if he was drinking her in again, only more, so much more. He could feel her moving through him, feel himself moving through her, falling into her. Her faint pulse sounded through him and he felt himself reach out to it, only to have it vanish beneath the pounding throb of his own.

A sharp cry jolted him back into the world and his eyes shot open to find dark golden-brown eyes staring dazedly back into his.

"Jairus?" Her eyes were wide, frightened, and clouded...with what he couldn't be sure, but her body still leaned weakly and limply against his, and she was still so very pale.

He breathed out in relief, but the tightness in his chest remained. He could take no chances. He was so close now, and to lose her....no, it was unacceptable.

He opened his free wrist once more, not releasing her hand for fear of what might happen if he broke their connection, and offered her the upturned arm.

She gazed down at it in confusion.

"Drink, Thea."

"Drink?" Her voice sounded so small to his ears.

"Please." She didn't respond so he pressed his hand closer to her mouth, letting the blood brush her lips. It must have triggered something because she moaned softly and pressed back. He watched gratefully as her tongue snaked out to catch the blood which slid over his palm and as her lips found and covered the fresh punctures.

The iron fist that had been clenched around his heart eased a little at the sight, and he dropped his forehead to nestle against hers.

She continued to lap at his wrist long after the wound was closed, cleaning the now unmarred skin and murmuring softly. When she looked up to meet his gaze she didn't look much stronger, but her eyes had cleared and now they burned with a hunger he was all too familiar with.

He himself was feeling similar pangs. The exceptional level of force he'd exerted over the past few hours, turning her, and the nearing approach of dawn's first light, all conspired to drain him. Now, he feared, with her so weakened and him without living blood, he wasn't completely sure he could get them back to the keep before first light. He could barely move, but he would have to try and he hoped with a sigh that the strength of the will could defeat the weakness of the flesh. He knew for a certainty that it was going to be too close of a call.

"We have company." Her voice sounded darker, huskier, tainted as it was with her hunger, and her eyes glowed as she licked the dried blood from her lips.

His gaze followed hers and lighted with a mixture of pleasure and surprise on the figure of the young assassin just joining them in the clearing.

He stopped short at the sight of them kneeling in the snow surrounded by the lifeless bodies of the warriors. The boy managed to keep his expression even, but his eyes widened nonetheless.

"Hell" the boy breathed softly, his eyes flicking from the lifeless bodies to their own strange tableau nearby.

Jairus untangled himself from Thea and rose, sliding her carefully off of his lap. She remained where she was and he could feel her hot gaze at his back as he approached his prey, stepping carelessly over the fallen men, a hint of a smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

"Tell me assassin...what is your name?" He asked in a low, smooth voice. The boy's mouth opened to speak, but no sound emerged until Jairus reached and circled him with measured steps.

"I go by Sil." He answered, his voice soft with wariness.

"Well Sil," his mouth twitched, "today is your lucky day...today you turn out to be useful after all." He didn't wait for the boy to contemplate his words, but snatched him up by the throat and hauled him in, burying his fangs in his throat with only slightly more restraint than he had shown the woman in the alley.

He could hardly believe his luck at this opportune interruption and was quick to take advantage. He snarled in triumph as the blood brought with it a surge of dark energy. He fed only briefly, taking fast and deep pulls, drinking just enough to give them the strength to find shelter before the break of day.

He released the boy while he was still conscious, though barely, and pressed him against a nearby tree before releasing him, letting him slide down the trunk weakly. The gasping, confused youth stared up at him in shock.

Jairus smirked wryly down at him. "You also get to live. Congratulation."

A soft sound behind him made him turn and his eyes met the swirling amber depths which were watching him so very needfully from across the snowy glade. He moved forward, pulled into those eyes, at once bright and dark, his skin quivering with its own eager desire at the sight, and he groaned low in his throat as she let out another soft mewling whimper.

Thea had moved closer to the clearing's edge and was clinging to a slender tree in a failed attempt to raise herself to her feet. She remained on her knees, unable to do more than hold herself upright. He dropped onto his knees bedside her shaking body. Shaking, he knew, with hunger rather than cold.

She confirmed this by tangling his cloak and shirt in her hands as he reached for her, pulling herself bodily into him, her cold flesh instinctively seeking his new found warmth, her eyes dark with hunger and desire. She crawled into his lap, pushing him back, and found his mouth with her tongue. She let out a groan to match his own as he kissed her back and she caught the taste of fresh blood still lingering on his mouth.

The kiss deepened and he twisted his fingers into her hair, forcing her mouth harder against his as her hips ground back into him, pressing their bodies together with fitful urgency.

His cock throbbed as she writhed against it in his lap, and the sweet moaning whimpers that emanated from her made every muscle in his body tighten with excitement and need.

The very worst of it was when his exploring and hungry tongue rubbed against sharp pointed teeth that weren't his.

He gasped her name and rocked his hips back against hers as she pulled away from the kiss, nipping his lower lips enough to draw blood before running her tongue back over it.

Her lips slid lower and he felt her new fangs scrape his skin as she dragged them roughly down the side of his neck. He tipped his head to give her better access and waited for her to follow the drives of her need. She barely hesitated and bit into him eagerly, if clumsily, the moment she found her mark, her teeth tearing the flesh with a sharp tug. He winced but did nothing more than adjust his grip, one hand about her waist and another at her throat ready to pull her off when she would inevitably try to take too much.

To his surprise she pulled away almost immediately, lapping at his throat, and, he realized, healing it. A trick she must have learned watching him all those many times when he'd done it for her.

Her breath was hot against his neck as she panted softly, her hands still tangled in his shirt. It wasn't clear if she was trying to push him away or hold him closer.

She writhed against him anxiously, but made no move to continue feeding.

"Why have you stopped?" He asked softly, turning his head to rest his cheek against her hair. Her own lay against his shoulder.

Her voice, husky and dark, shook with restraint. "I...I'm sorry...I don't want to hurt you..." He smiled against the top of her head and chuckled, remembering how she'd told him he'd hurt her, and her smirking response to that fact.

"I know" he whispered with a smile "....but I sort of like it."

She let out her own nervous laugh, which devolved quickly into a whimper. He took her chin in his hand and turned it back to his throat. "Go ahead, sweet one. You can make it up to me later." He could feel her begin to laugh again, but hunger took over and her teeth were once again sliding into his throat, this time with relative ease and a soft growl of pleasure.

He leaned back against the tree, holding her close as her soft mouth sucked at his throat. He could feel himself grow colder as the chill of the air and ground raced in to fill his body as she slowly drained him of his own heat and blood.

The mild discomfort it caused was nothing compared to the joy of holding her to him, knowing she was his, or the erotic pleasure of feeling himself slowly slip away into her body. He wasn't sure which thought was dearer to him, that he was feeding her life with his own, and that some part of him, however small, was forever in her keeping, or that finally she was completely his. Even if she left him, there would be this, this inescapable bond, a bond he would never let go of.

His arms tightened and she cooed softly against his throat, her small tongue still lashing at his flesh, coaxing the blood from another fresh wound. Was this what she felt when he'd drank from her? No wonder she'd begged for it. He sighed out a long moan of pleasure and gripped her hips as they continued to grind against him in slow, unhurried circles. If she didn't stop soon, he thought with another low chuckle, the only blood he'd have left in his body was whatever was keeping his cock as painfully stiff and throbbing as it was. She pulled away suddenly with a soft gasp, as if somehow complicit with his thoughts.

He didn't think it possible but the image that she presented before him ratcheted his level of arousal even higher, causing his already elongated fangs to ache with need. Her head was tilted back, her eyes heavy with satisfaction, her lips parted, revealing blood stained but still neatly pointed and, he thought, beautifully delicate looking fangs. She was exquisite.

He reached up and slowly wiped away a smear of blood which lingered at the corner of her mouth. She gazed lazily back at him, her eyes dark and glazed, and took his hand in hers and licked his fingers clean, her heavy lidded eyes still locked on his and an intoxicated and sated smile twisting her lips.

Slowly her eyes grew heavier and her body slid back into his which he facilitated by tightening his own grip around her waist and pulling her tight against his chest. She made a gentle mewling sound and nuzzled into the crook of his neck, her face half hidden against him. He held her like that a moment, his own mind and body awash with a confusion of joy, concern, and deep, barely controlled lust.

Jairus growled low in his throat at the sound of another impending interruption from the woods behind him and slowly forced the growing inferno in his gut back down into a slow burn. He managed to control himself enough to retract his fangs before he made a spectacle of himself.

More of a spectacle, he thought with another growl as he remembered the scene he'd caused getting into the keep...only to find her already somewhere else. She mewled again as his arms tightened involuntary.

Thea was asleep and curled against him, her arms wrapped around his neck, by the time he stood to greet the newest arrivals to the party.

"Looks like we missed the fun." Othwyn muttered dryly as he slid down from his mount, his eyes lingering on the young, half conscious assassin hunched nearby. Wordlessly, he motioned the reigns of a spare horse to Jairus indicating he take it as his mount. "What about him?" He nodded to the youth who blinked up at them with a pained groan.

"May as well bring him." Jairus arched a brow at the boy, outwardly cool once more as he battled the strange fire of emotion still consuming him inside.

He lifted Thea and set her on the horse, still holding her hip as he leapt easily up into the saddle behind her. He didn't often ride, but the motions came back easily to him on those rare occasions he did. The animal pranced uncomfortably as Jairus accepted the reigns. He could feel it shudder beneath him, confused by its instinct to get away, and yet not quite sure what it was supposed to be getting away from.

He was able to control the animal, but the tension trilling though its flesh remained. Jairus imagined, with some irony, that it was probably not all that dissimilar to the sensations plaguing his own body.

"And the girl? Thea? Is she alright?"

Jarius held his breath as he was overcome by, then resisted, a sudden wave of ferocious jealousy. He couldn't explain it, but the sound of her name...on his lips...or perhaps it was on any other lips...he grit his teeth and tried to regain his equilibrium.

If the expression on Othwyn's face was any indication, he hadn't succeeded. Othwyn looked away and motioned for one of his men to collect the boy who was still propped against the tree.

Jairus expelled a long breath very slowly before answering and hardened his expression back into its usual cold mask, schooling himself back into rationality, and suppressing the territorial old wolf which seemed suddenly so very close to the surface. It helped that she was still in his arms, and was pressed close against him. The feel of her, it seemed, satisfied and quieted the beast's greed enough for him to at least consider the question calmly.

And consider he did, and in doing so another thought occurred to him, an unwelcome and even frightening thought. She was alive, yes, and she would recover physically, but how would she respond when she awoke?

The feeling of his own horror upon awakening to find himself thusly altered came back to him and washed over his mind in a nauseating wave. Would she feel that same horror? He choked the thoughts and sensations back with some effort and felt his lip twitch involuntarily in a grimace, then turned his gaze toward the dark of the wood.

"She is out of immediate danger...but we shall see."

**

There was a terrible pain, like a pounding drum, throbbing behind her eyes. Thea shifted and her stomach shifted with her, rocking nauseatingly. She blinked open her eyes, only to shut them again with a groan. Bright...far too bright.

"God...what did I drink?"

There was a sound, a low soft laugh that seemed everywhere at once. She blinked again, still groaning. Her body shifted without her once more.

Wait, no, she was on a bed...and the bed had shifted. She managed to keep her eyes open this time, though still blinking the stars from them, and looked around the relatively familiar room.

There was a figure with her, sitting on the side of the bed beside her, looking down at her. There was only the soft glow from a low fire in the corner of the room, but it was enough to make her eyes sting, as if it were a bright light, blurring her vision.

"Good evening, sweet one."

The voice was low and male, and it made her curl her body towards his, instinctively wrapping herself around his side, wanting desperately to get closer to that sound. Her body still pulsed and throbbed in uncomfortable ways so she clung silently to him, using him as an anchor in the sea of unsettling sensations. She couldn't bring herself to speak, and he too seemed content to sit in silence, though he offered the comfort of a cool gentle hand against her forehead, stroking the hair from her face.

"You know," he spoke softly after a long moment. "I thought you looked like a goddess the first time I saw you asleep in your bed." There was another long pause. "Did you know that Thea means 'divine one' in the old tongue."

"No" she whispered... not really wanting to speak, but wanting him to keep talking enough to respond. She looked up at him when he remained silent and felt herself begin to tremble. Dark, sad eyes met hers. He smiled gently and continued to smooth his hand over her hair. It didn't make the pounding go away, but it was pleasant. She let out another self pitying whimper and curled tighter.

"How are you fairing little goddess?"

"Unwell" she murmured softly into his thigh as she shifted closer to his lap.

He sighed and she saw him nod out of the corner of her eye. "That is unsurprising."

She continued to watch him through heavily lidded eyes as he began loosening his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it at the foot of the bed and out of the way. She moaned in protest as two arms came down and wrapped around her waist, pulling her up until she found herself sitting in naked in his lap, curled up against his bare chest. His skin was smooth and cold against hers. It felt wonderful under her hands and against her fevered cheek.