tagBDSMHiliad's Special Gift Ch. 13-15

Hiliad's Special Gift Ch. 13-15

byAddicted2Writing©

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to 'the Brit,' his new official name.

Please remember Hiliad has been a vampire for 2000 years and he's been through a lot. He won't change overnight. The process is slow...and fun!

Thanks for the votes and comments. Please, keep them up!


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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The next night ...

"Hugh, you still shouldn't have gotten Connee's IM and shown Hiliad how to use it." Wilma was furious, and I sure didn't mean to get him in trouble, but I wasn't going to stop her.

They had popped in to see how I was doing, although they got me out of bed. I couldn't just not have them in. They'd done a lot for me. Besides, I was hoping they had some dirt on Hiliad.

"I didn't have—"

"Wait," I interrupted Hugh, "it was noon when he IM'd me. How did he get online?" Did I mention I'm a little slow on the uptake?

"He is very old, Connee. He doesn't need as much sleep as me, for example. I don't know where his lair is, as we keep our day holds very, very secretive."

"Really?" I asked. I couldn't help but notice how much I wished Hiliad could be like Hugh. He seemed so good to Wilma, and he really loved her. And lucky, lucky Wilma. He was built like—while I was thinking to myself, I noticed her giving me a nasty, 'Get away from my man, bitch!'

I blushed then mouthed, 'sorry.'

I was relieved when she smiled. "Connee," she said, "If you want to gain his trust, have him take you—"

"No, no!" Hugh interjected. "You cannot find out where—"

"Hugh, calm down. I'm not. I have no intention of seeing him again."

That was my resolution until the next night.

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Hiliad sent me the prior week's paycheck and a 'bonus' check to cover expenses while I was off work. I had gone clothes shopping then treated myself to dinner, and it was almost nine o'clock by the time I got home. With my hands full, I went straight to the bedroom and threw my clothes on the bed. I heard something odd on the bed, but it wasn't threatening. I quickly turned on the light to see a box, wrapped up in purple gift wrap with a bow the size of the box itself. That damned Hiliad! I was about to grab it and throw it away when it suddenly moved. Tiny scratches came from inside the box.

I sat on the bed, pulled the box towards me and lifted the lid, actually expecting a snake or something to jump out at me and eat me. But this perfect little furry, calico kitten meowed at me.

"Well, hello there." Trying to get out of the box, I grabbed him—her, as it turned out—under the belly and cradled her in my arms. "Did that big ole nasty vampire decide he didn't want you for dinner last night?"

Something caught my attention right outside the window. I knew it had to be Hiliad, but I've never been not gracious enough to not thank someone for a gift. I sighed. "Don't get too used to this place, sweetie. We're moving."

I put her on the bed then went to the window, a double-slider with the screen at the bottom, lifted it up a little and looked through the glass. "Hiliad, I know you're—" Before I could finish, he was standing in front of me. "—out there." He could have at least had some manners to allow me to finish my sentence. "Hi."

"Hello," he said in his deep, throaty, sexy as hell growl. He was wearing an outfit that made him look like a geek from the 80's. And his teeth were hidden. He looked almost—normal. "Did you find my little gift?"

"Yes, I did. Thank you."

"I had her mother for dinner," he said seriously. My eyes flew open, and I was about to close the window when he said, "Connee, I was joking. I heard your comment."

"You need to work on your sense of humor."

"Right. I've already started improving my spelling. All those damned keys, and I never knew where any of them—"

"I'm an idiot for talking to you," I gurgled.

"But you are talking to me." His right eyebrow rose, like he was triumphant in winning an Olympic medal or something.

The kitten had been making a fuss on the bed, and I was afraid she'd fall off and hurt herself. I sighed, picked her up and sat on the floor right by the window screen; Hiliad did the same. "Yes, I'm talking to you because I'm an idiot. I can't talk long because I have to run and get her some—"

"Its' litter box is in the hall bathroom, and the food is in a cupboard in the kitchen. I am so relieved you removed that damned garlic."

Ah, so he couldn't enter? I had removed the bulbs of garlic the night before, but at least I knew they did work. I'd have to remember that.

"I couldn't get the smell out of my clothes. I had to throw them away. And that was my favorite shirt."

Oh.

The tunic I was wearing had a string at the top, and the kitten was batting it around, trying to get its teeth into it. "What do you want, Hiliad?"

"I want us to talk."

"So, talk."

"Um, I don't know what to say. I thought maybe you'd—"

"You almost killed me, Hiliad. You shouldn't know what to say. I should never have agreed to be your sub."

"Connee, what happened had nothing to do with me being your Dom."

"Really? What did it have to do with?"

He looked out into the woods. "I'm a vampire, in case you haven't noticed. We feed off humans. I made a mistake. I admit that."

Well, he was man enough to admit he was wrong. I started to laugh at the human part.

"What is so funny?" he asked, glaring at me then.

The kitten was able to get her claws stuck in the string and pulled the string into her mouth, along with the 'v' of my top opening with it. Hiliad's eyes grew wide. I quickly removed the string from the kitten and closed the blouse.

"Nothing, nothing." I blushed and hated myself for it.

Okay, so we'd been talking for ten minutes, and my heart was pounding inside my chest. I was having a normal conversation with Hiliad, something we'd never really had before. Well, it wasn't too bad.

"Heather," I heard myself say as I was petting the kitten as I was lost in thought.

"Pardon me?"

"I'm naming her Heather."

He just nodded. "I like it." His voice was soft, yet I barely heard him.

"Yeah. I've always liked that name."

"No, no. I mean I like us talking like this." I could feel the wall I'd put between us begin to crack. "I would still like to see you, Connee."

"Hiliad, I'm not planning on staying."

His head turned to me in the blink of an eye. "Where are you going?" I shrugged my shoulders. "Woman, do you always run away from all your troubles? I never took—"

Those words stung. He knew about my father. If the screen weren't between us I would have hit the shit out of him, in the meantime probably broken my hand. "You son of a bitch," I spat.

"Yeah, I am."

Heather crawled up and over my chest then bapped me on the chin. I had stopped petting her and apparently she didn't like it. I started to massage her shoulders, and she quickly flattened against me, yawning.

"Connee, I don't know how to love someone." That comment floored me. His voice actually ached.

"Hiliad," I sighed, "I don't expect you to change for me. And I don't expect you to fall in love with me—"

"I already have." And with that, Hiliad was up and gone.

I threw myself up to the screen and looked out, hoping I'd find him against a tree, hitting his head on it a few times for what he said. But he was long gone.

Why did he have to say that? Did he mean he'd already changed for me, or fallen in love with me? Why me? Why couldn't things be easier for me? Where was a normal guy that knew how to treat me the way I need to be treated?

After hanging my clothes up in the closet and feeding Heather, I changed into my lounge clothes and got on the bed. I'd have to make a run to a pet store to buy her some toys. When she finally settled down, it took me hours to fall asleep. And what was on my mind when I did fall to sleep followed me into my dreams ...

I'm lying in bed on my side, asleep. I hear my name and open my eyes. I smile. "Hi."

"Hello, sweetheart." His voice reminds me of Hugh's, but it's not Hugh standing by my bed, naked.

My eyes trace over his body from head to toe. His fangs are long and hard, and so is his penis. "Hmm, wanna join me?" I ask, sitting up.

He shakes his head. "Not quite yet," he says, taking a step closer. "There is something that needs some attention, though."

I know what he wants, and so do I. I scoot over closer to the side of the bed and take his penis into my hand, working it just the way I know he likes it. Looking up at him seductively, his hand reaches out for my breast, slowly cupping and pinching my nipple. He growls, and it drives me insane.

"Now, my little scrumptious one, lie on your back." His voice sounds so far away, yet every syllable plunges to my sweet spot, down below.

Before I realize it, Hiliad enters me, grinds his hips into mine, his dick touching every single nerve in me. He pulls out completely and takes my face in his hands. "Look at me, Connee."

He pushes inside me again, forcing me to arch my back and throw my head back. He forcefully pulls my face back up. "I want to see your face when you cum."

He kisses me, his fangs scraping against my bottom lip, our tongues search for the others in a fevered passion. Without another word, he pounds hard into me, making me whine and moan until he pulls almost out, then rams deeper into me. The noises and groans that are coming out of my mouth are primal, something I'd never heard come from my lips before.

He continues to pound and grind into me, and just as the much wanted orgasm is within my reach, there's a crash out in the hallway. But I don't give a shit. I love feeling him inside me and I hunger for release.

Another crash ...

I bolted upright in bed, looking around me in a daze. I felt my drenched panties thanks to the dream. Then I hear something in the living room. "Hiliad? Is that—"

"No, bitch." Susie walked into my bedroom, brandishing a pistol.

Why does all this shit happen to me?

"How the hell did you get in here?" I demanded. Little Heather stretched then curled right back to sleep.

"Oh, you know," she replied as she stepped into the room, "did a little this, did a little Hiliad." She wiggled the apartment key in her hand then sat on the edge of the bed, the pistol aimed at my forehead.

I glanced out the window. It was still dark, though the birds were beginning to chirp softly outside. I hoped Hiliad was still out there somewhere and could see what was happening and come and rescue me ... like he always did.

"GET OFF MY BED!" I don't know whether I was angry that she was on my bed or that she did what she said she did. Did it really matter? If it didn't, I wouldn't have gotten angry.

"You play this little game of being Hiliad's little subbie, as he calls me ... oops," she corrected maliciously, "but he doesn't want you."

"You can have him as far as I'm concerned," I snapped, although I didn't convince myself.

"Oh, I don't want him, Connee. I want you."

"Why? What have I ever done to you? I stuttered.

"You killed Michael."

"Hiliad, Hiliad killed him. He had to. He almost—"

She extended her arm further, took a step close, the pistol only inches from me and cocked it. I was too shaken up to do anything. "Do it," I challenged, my voice quivered. "I don't care anymore."

"Get up," she demanded, ignoring my request. I slid off the other side of the bed and walked to the end of it, my hands up defensively, as the gun was then pointing at my chest. "Tsk, tsk," she said. Who's cowering now?"

"You will be," came a voice from the doorway. Susie turned to look at Hiliad, who stood smugly and confidently. "Why would you want to waste those beautiful breasts that I happen to adore?"

Susie grinned, but I could tell she lost her poise. "I'm warning you, Hiliad, stay back."

"Oh, that's hardly a threat," he replied.

"Hiliad, stay back," I pleaded.

Within a single heartbeat, Hiliad had her wrist in a tight grip, holding the gun. He forced her hand down and was bringing it back when a loud, cracking explosion filled the small bedroom. An intense, sharp pain tore through my collarbone that forced me back onto the dresser. I tried to hold myself up but slid to the floor. I couldn't even find the strength to see what Hiliad was doing to Susie, although I had some idea.

"Hiliad," I muttered. It was soft, and barely audible to me, but I knew he would hear me. "Don' kill 'er."

There was a little more scuffling then Hiliad was at my side. I heard a soft ripping noise, the faint smell of something metallic. I knew what it was. He was going to give me his blood.

"No, Hili'."

"You'll die."

"Then le' me die."

"I don't have time for this!" he snapped, and I could tell he was angry.

"I. Do. Not. Want ..." I coughed, gurgled with the blood coming up in the back of my throat, "... your blood."

"Shit! The sun will be up—"

"Let me go," I mumbled, feeling myself slip away.

"No, I won't," he said adamantly. "I'm going to dig the bullet out of you."

"Wha'? No!"

"Look at me. Let me take your pain."

"No, no."

"Stupid fool!" Hiliad ripped my blood-soaked night-shirt off while I still protested. It fell on deaf ears. "Hold your breath, Connee."

Tears poured out of my eyes. I could speak no longer speak to protest. I looked at him, pleading with my eyes to just let me die.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." His fingers came closer to my lower neck. "I'm so sorry."

I screamed in pain when he dug his fingers into my flesh. I kicked my feet, trying to get away from him. The last thing I remember was the look of fear, regret and pain in his eyes as his fingers searched for the bullet.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Hiliad's POV:

"What am I going to do with you?" I asked Connee's lifeless body as I rushed home.

I could feel the heat from the rising sun, and if I hurried I knew we'd make it back. I was able to call Doug and ask him to take care of Susie's body and the kitten; at least I knew he wouldn't eat it. The sun's rays soon began to appear through the trees. I was relieved to see the cabin hidden in the ancient wisps of the trees surrounding it. Connee hadn't made a noise the past few minutes, but I could still feel and hear her heartbeat, though it was weak.

Kicking in the door I glided to the back room and placed Connee on the bed. It was far too late to call Sylvester, yet I didn't know what the hell to do. There was blood in the corner of her mouth, and I fought every urge I had not to lick it away. "Damn it! Don't die on me!"

Looking over her body, she told me she didn't want my blood. I had to respect that. But I sure didn't have to let her die. I'd done everything I could to show her that I was sorry: I bought her flowers, I saved her life, I gave her Heather, I told her I loved her. And here she was, dying on my bed, probably. What was I supposed to do?

The first thing I knew I had to do was to stop the bleeding. Okay, so, she said she didn't want my blood. I could live with that—for the moment. But she didn't say I couldn't take her blood. I had to clean her wound. Besides, hopefully it would heal her torn flesh.

I quickly lapped the blood and the wound. God, she tasted so good, but I had no carnal lust for her at that particular moment. Spending a little extra time on the opening where the bullet went through, it didn't close up as quickly as I would have liked. Once it did, within minutes more blood would seep out from a new area of the wound. It might be too late.

Hours later ...

"Shhh, Connee, you're fine."

She was far from it, actually. From the smell of her blood infection had already set in. She hadn't regained consciousness since I'd brought her to my day den, but occasionally she'd mumble incoherently or whine in pain when she'd moved in her sleep.

That was the norm the past several hours, and the sun was far from setting. While I'd only slept for an hour, off and on, her whimpering would always wake me up.

Then, though, her body was shivering with fever. I hadn't a damned thing to blanket her with. I couldn't do it because I knew my body would be too cold to her. And her beautiful face was covered in sweat, from the fever, I supposed. Whenever I'd wipe it off, the moisture would build up just as quickly.

I would have liked to call someone, Lucille, maybe? I knew Sylvester didn't like me, so that was out. Wilma? I'd already pushed her to her limits. I couldn't take Connee to the hospital because the authorities would investigate further with the gunshot wound.

There wasn't a damned thing I could do about Connee's suffering.

Hours later ...

"'Hmmph ..." she muttered.

I'd been sitting up beside Connee, who'd been mumbling in her sleep again. "Connee, I'm here." I wiped her face again, but her complexion was pale; the apples of her cheeks flushed.

"Wha' happen'?"

Oh, thank god! She's back. "You got into a little trouble. You're fine now."

I could tell she tried to open her eyes but had given up the attempt. "The acc'ntnt ... he was supp ..."

Shit. "Connee, I know you told me you didn't want my blood, but—"

"Wh' would I say tha'?" she muttered.

What was she talking about?

"Oh, Hil', make love to me." She finally opened her eyes but she wasn't there. It was as if she looked right through me.

I didn't like it. I quickly slid my arm under her head to her shoulders and pulled her to me. She screamed in pain, her eyes wide in anguish. I could hear her collarbone crunch—it was disheartening to hear.

"I'm sorry. I know you told me ..." I dug into my forearm, not giving a shit about my own pain, "... not to give you my blood, but you will not die, Ms. Byers." I placed my arm over her mouth. "Drink from me, Connee. I don't want you to ..." I had to stop speaking because I knew she couldn't hear me, truthfully my voice cracked.

Within a second, she clamped her lips onto me and drank, hard. "No, easy, easy."

Her tongue lapped at my skin then would suck for more blood, as if she knew I was trying to save her life. I closed my eyes and let her drink all she could until her head fell back, although I caught it. "Good girl. That's my girl."

Her eyes were closed tightly. All I could do then was wait.

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Connee's POV:

God, I hurt like a son of a bitch. I was afraid to move because I knew I would scream from the pain intensifying. My collarbone was really bad, but it was tolerable. I tried to conjure up what I last remembered, and it was when Hiliad stuck his finger into my flesh at the bullet hole.

It was quiet, crickets sang all around me, and I could tell it was dark. The trickling of water overwhelmed me, but then I realized I was cradled against something that was cold, though not as cold as the water I was soaking in. Water spilled over my chest and neck then rinsed off my skin. Beads of water spilled over my bare breasts ... I tilted my head up, trying to force my eyes open, but they wouldn't cooperate.

"Connee, are you awake?"

Hiliad? I moaned when his huge, soft hand rubbed over my breasts. I tried to talk, to tell him off, but I shivered with cold.

"I know it's cold. Sorry about that."

It was Hiliad.

A second later, I was turned around and cradled in his arms, my legs over one of his legs. My upper body was pulled away from him, but he had his arms behind me with his hands on the back of my shoulders.

"Connee? Open your eyes for me, please." I was disorientated, my head spun, but I eventually opened them. "Hey, you're in there," he told me, a smile on his lips, no fangs showing.

"Wha' happened?"

"I'll tell you all about it later. Right now, I have to finish cleaning you off."

"Why?"

"Because you have been delirious with fever for over twenty-four hours, and you're all hot and sweaty."

"Why?"

"An infection."

"You smell awful," I croaked.

He laughed, and it felt good when my body shuddered with his. "No, dear, that's you."

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