Moon Rise Ch. 10

"Mais non, Tempête," Dominic said with a grin, as I opened my eyes. I blinked, my vision hazy and it took me a moment to focus. I recognized our little flat just on the banks of the Seine. I was in a huge bed... and there were bodies all round me. Dom was shrugging on a plush black robe and had his back to me. "I didn't think half a dozen would be enough, but I did think it would be an interesting diversion for you. You amaze me, pet. Truly. Are you even remotely satisfied?" He sat at a little bistro table by an open window over-looking the street below and took a sip of wine, his dark eyes amused as he regarded me. I remember feeling nothing at the time, but now, in this moment, I was horrified.

"What am I doing here?" I demanded. I knew it was a dream. He was good at dream-walking. Usually a world between us limited his ability to reach me, to say nothing of the spiritual security I kept around my home... but there wasn't a world between us any longer and my quaint crystals and herbs didn't do jack against him while he was in my city.

"Oh, you *have* gotten stronger," he said, with an arch of his brow, genuinely surprised. "You never used to realize when I pulled you into a dream, Tempête."

I crawled out of the bed, trying not to be ill. They were all dead. Drained. I felt it. Remembered doing it. Remembered being in the tangle of their limbs and touching each and every one of them, draining them dry, their defenses shattered by the orgasms I had caused. "Jesus." I wrapped my arms around my nude body. "Why would you bring me here?"

"To remind you of who you are." He said without a smile. "What you are."

"And who the hell do you think you are, Dom?" I demanded. "This isn't me anymore! I am not your little Tempête anymore. I am not your adopted sister, your girlfriend, your protégé, your... your anything!" I stalked to the door. I didn't know if it would lead me out of the dream, but I did know that some portal somewhere would allow me to wake; it was just a matter of finding the right one.

"Spare me your sanctimonious diatribe," he said darkly, and he walked to the bed, as if looking at an interesting art installation rather than a heap of dead bodies and dirty sheets. "At least they all died with a smile, my girl. That was not at all likely to be the case otherwise. I assure you, you were far more pleasant than the guillotine." He raised his eyes to me, holding me still with just the power of his mind, in this place. He was far better at controlling himself and the universe around him here... it was never my forte, personally. I hated that he could so easily influence me.

"Some part of you will always belong to me, Tempest," Dominic said softly, turning and walking toward me, seeming completely oblivious to my fury. "You were with me too long. You yielded to me too many times. I know that inside you lies something... magnificent. But it isn't something that young man of yours will be able to handle. He is too young, and far too human."

"You think you're telling me anything I don't know, Dom?" I snarled, willing one hand to reach and cling to the door, but not able to turn it.

"I don't know. Why didn't you leave the club with him?"

"For exactly the reasons you just stated!" I said, whirling and glaring at him. "And what, are you fucking stalking me now, you creeper?"

He smiled, his lips twisting almost mockingly. "So, you care what happens to him. That is precisely the point I mean, Tempest. He could be a splendid meal and you just left him."

"He is still Crypti, Domonic. And you have no idea what sort. He isn't food. He isn't that human. And even if he was, I wouldn't."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, why not?"

"Because I am not a monster!" It was such an adamant, forceful, furious claim from me, the walls of the dream literally shuddered under the energy that I put out when I said it. I looked around and even Dom looked more than a little spooked, then very pleased.

"Aren't you?" He asked, and then waved a hand, causing the dream to dissolve around us as his voice lingered in my mind as consciousness invaded. "The girl I remember loved to fuck and feed. Loved having me syphon the life energy she devoured from her lovers so that she could take yet more still. Loved to cum under my hands and energy like a cat loves bathing in the sunlight. Where is that girl? I am sure she is not gone... because I can feel your lust, Tempest. I can feel it, and you cannot ignore it. Not a monster? Oh, my dear, deluded girl... you're the most beautiful little monster I have had the pleasure of knowing."

* * * * * *

When I jerked awake, there was a mewling ball of fur on top of me. Apparently I had been making noises in my sleep. She padded off and changed on the side of the bed, her blond hair a mess, and her green eyes tired. "Tempi? You were almost shouting in your sleep, hun," my roommate yawned.

"It was a nightmare. Sorta." I said, running a hand through my hair.

"Sorta?"

"Dominic is in town." Her look of terror and disgust was instantaneous.

"Does he have super hearing? Did he know we were just talking about him? I swear, speak of the devil..." Angelina shook her head. "Are you ok, honey?"

"Yeah. No. I don't know." I wrapped myself up in my blankets, unable to really decide how I felt. Everything felt so out of control. It felt like the world was caving in on me! I saw the bodies on that bed, lives taken over two centuries ago, but I still remembered each and every one of them. I always remembered even when small details of the past faded from me. I might not remember what I was doing the day Louis the Sixteenth and his snobbish, Austrian wife were beheaded... but damned if I didn't remember the adventurous girl who sold flowers until she learned that selling her body was far more lucrative. Her name had been Lillette. She had been stunning enough that when her clientele became the elite of the court of Versailles, not a single person had questioned her right to attend court on their arms. When Dominic had asked her if she could arrange a soiree at his private flat in Paris, she'd considered it a sound business decision to invite along some of the young and rich clients in her little black book. A pity not one of them would ever make it home to their bourgeois families, he admitted, but likely, as he'd mentioned, all would have ended up either under the guillotine with their failed monarchs, or else wind up in far more desperate situations, given the rapid political change in France. It had been easy to kill with impunity then, and he often convinced me I was serving some higher purpose, sparing them these violent deaths. Like a veterinarian performing euthanasia on a dying family pet.

Without a word, I bolted from my bed, ran into the small private bathroom attached to my bedroom, and promptly bent over the toilet to vomit what little food was left in my system from the night before. I sank to my knees, tears rolling down my cheeks. When there was nothing but bile and dry heaving left, I felt Angelina come in, pull my hair back from my face and put a cool cloth on the back of my neck. She didn't say anything. I don't think she had to, really. She knew all about the long and sordid history between me and Dominic. She had only met him a couple of times, but she had always loathed him from the moment she met him.

When I could think straight again, she helped me back into bed, but stayed with me, phasing back into her butterball tabby self, and curling up on my pillow, purring softly, like a gentle white noise machine. I let my remaining tears dry in her orange fluff, and after a bit, finally fell into a dreamless sleep.

When I awoke the following day, it was long past my usual time to get up and get ready for work. I nearly had a panic attack until I read a note on my pillow.

"Tempi,

"You tossed and turned all night long. I doubt you really got any sleep at all, so I called your office for you and told them that you had been up all night with the flu. Surprisingly, they asked that you please keep your germs to yourself and refrain from coming into work for the next forty-eight hours; it seems they've had more than a few people come down with something lately. So... go back to sleep, relax, watch some soap operas and try to stay out of trouble. I am out of the city for the next three nights. If you need anything, call me.

"Loves,

A."

I let my head fall back onto my pillows and closed my eyes. I knew she would have stayed if she could, but Angelina was constantly in motion, ever needed. She was a teacher, adoptive big sister to more than few under age shifter kids, counselor, ambassador and part time spy. Given that her bestia shape was fairly innocuous, she could often go were the more fearsome shifters could not. No one was afraid of a house cat. No one thought twice about a housecat sitting in a yard and constantly watching its inhabitants. She was also as adorable on two legs as on four, so she was the perfect person to send in when an accident happened and a human was infected with some form of lycanthropy and someone less intimidating was needed to help deal with the victim or the family.

The Shroud of Secrecy was a nebulous thing. There were human beings that knew about Crypti... they were just few and far between. They were mostly family members of Crypti that could breed with or convert humans. Vampires could sire via their blood. Shapeshifters could via their bite or scratch, depending on their breed. Some could change a human on accident, very easily, like wolves or rats. Others, like reptiles, large cats, and bears were harder to contract, and the likelihood of surviving what they had to do to you to transfer their particular curse generally involved more bloodshed than most humans could withstand. Witches still weren't entirely sure what made them unique, though it seemed to be specific old bloodlines that knew about the Crypti world, and they didn't truly consider themselves a part of it. They had a delegate on the Cryptozoic governing body, and for the most part spoke for what they called "The Unenlightened"... meaning, the Regs.

Every so often, something would happen. Someone would get stupid, or sloppy. Someone would get hurt. If it seemed that the former human could be seamlessly absorbed into the Crypti world without much fuss, we did so. If that person had a whole human family that came with them... well, we weren't utterly heartless. Well, most of us weren't. The witches had long ago set up an almost Underground Railroad for Converted Crypti and their mortal families back when it was merely a matter of course to eliminate all humans that came to know of us. Over time, the witches argued that we hastened our own demise so callously destroying any one that endangered the Shroud. I, personally, saw both sides, having been a child when the Spanish Inquisition was in full swing. More than a few of my sisters were burned, and I confess, I carried a hatred for humanity for a long time because of that. I still have never forgiven the Church, and doubt I ever shall. Even though my sisters were hardly innocent, no one deserves to die like that.

Now, The United Cryptozoic Council of North America had a standing policy that they would instead treat such humans as the FBI did with the families of mobsters who turned states' evidence... new place, new name, some new rules to follow to keep everyone safe. So far, we had managed to keep the Shroud as intact as possible regarding the human race at large. A time was coming when it would finally tear... we all knew it, but no one said the words aloud. I honestly feared the day that this happened.

I was about to rise from my bed to wash the remaining bit of sleep from my body when my phone rang. I arched a brow, inquisitively, as I picked it up and looked at the caller ID. Unknown. I hesitated to press the little green circle that would allow me to accept the call. But after a moment I did so. "Hello?"

"You aren't at work," the softly accented voice wasn't accusatory, but nor did he sound happy.

"Good morning, Naberius," I grumbled into the phone. "I'm perfectly fine, thank you for asking."

There was a small growl over the airwaves that hinted at some frustration, but instead of barking at me to mind my manners, he grumbled: "Are you all right? My people said that you had seemed upset. And you did not rest well."

"And remind me how that is supposed to be comforting?" I said dryly. "I already feel like I am being hunted. Do you know how unsettling it is to hear that not only do you know that I had a rough night out in the world but that you knew how I slept. But honestly, if you knew that much how could you not possibly know I wasn't at work and why?"

"I didn't have your office tapped until about an hour ago and I hadn't accessed your roommate's cell phone yet."

The plain simple answer, absolutely shamelessly said, just about made me chuck the phone across the room. Ezra's temporary infusion was well out of my system, the more rational part of my brain noted. I wouldn't have been so quick to exasperation and annoyance if I were well-fed at the moment. Then again... how long had it been since I had been well fed? Truly? Images of the little loft apartment in Paris flickered behind my closed eyes as I pressed my fingers into them, trying to massage the memories from my vision, looking for all the world like I had a migraine.

"You're insane," I finally said, too emotionally exhausted, hungry, and irritated enough to forget for a moment with whom I spoke. A moment later, there was a knock at the door of the small apartment. I got up, the phone still to my ear, as I continued in a weary voice. "I mean, seriously, who is the person under surveillance here? I thought your job was to keep me safe, not keep me—"

He turned his cell phone off and slid it into the inner pocket of his black suit jacket when I opened the door, standing there in nothing more than the small cotton chemise I had gone to bed in; a deep red camisole top flowing into a thigh length babydoll nightgown. It barely covered my ass and one of the cami straps had slipped down, centimeters from a wardrobe malfunction. I could only imagine the riot of red snarls of my bed head, but that thought was the only thing I could processes as I stood staring at Naberius as he stood on my front porch. "A prisoner," I concluded lamely.

His cornflower blue eyes shamelessly raked up my body and a roguish smile curled his lips. How could he look both youthful and ancient in the same breath? "I told you I would be watching, Princess."

"Don't call me that," I grumbled, but swept my arm out and opened the door fully, bidding him an annoyed, sarcastic offer of entrance. "Since you're here, come on in!"

"You're... in a mood," he said carefully, passing through the entrance. Today he was wearing a red tie over a soft black three piece suit. It looked as sturdy as wool but as soft as silk. Spidersilk? Which meant not only did he look amazing; like a pale, blue eyed Armani model, but he was also as well protected against offensive magic, physical damage and the elements (all the elements) as a Dungeons and Dragons paladin in full enchanted plate. He was wearing the Crypti equivalent of full Kevlar bodyarmor. I closed the door and turned to find him nearly flush against me. He leaned down and I felt the heat of his breath as he breathed in my scent deeply, his lips an inch from the flesh of my neck and shoulder. He breathed me in the way an animal does when scenting another, as though my scent alone could answer all of his questions. The very act trigged something deep within me and I knew the tiny silk panties under that red nightie were damp with my desire... and he could likely smell it on my flesh. It really was beginning

to be pointless to put on fresh undergarments every day!

My knees were weak. I needed... I needed sex so badly that it was suffocating. I know he could scent the pheromones I emitted; it was what drew humas to me, when I was desperately in need of energy. But I couldn't articulate anything past a trembling breath that hissed out of me when he turned me back to face the door and placed my hands upon the wood as if he meant to frisk me... and maybe he did. I had never had a cop fetish, but there was something inherently erotic about being pinned to a wall by a man that is more powerful than you... and he could have torn me apart if he wanted to. I could do little to stop him. But his body was literally here to protect mine. I didn't know if that came with the offer of not letting me fall to my nature and murder more people, or not. I should probably ask... consent and all. I still couldn't do much more than gasp softly as his hands held my body in place as he ran his face along my flesh, down my spine, and to my ass as his large hands slid under my little cotton shift, find my silky little black panties. He slid them down my legs, bid me to step from them, then he put my back against the heavy wooden door as he knelt before me and inhaled my scent before leaning in and licking my now bare mound.

"I can smell your need, Princess," he said very softly.

"Stop calling me princess." I responded, my voice as raw as my growing need for him. Continuing to kneel before me, Naberius lifted me suddenly, sliding my legs over his shoulders, my upper body still against the door for support and then licked from my ass to my clit in a single, moist, hot line. Slowly. He held me as if I weighed nothing at all, but I was no lightweight, and he took his time tasting me. I nearly came on the spot.

"Never," he growled softly, the feral glow in his azure gaze making my breathing catch. It had been... so very long since I had been with someone who had an inner bestia. Sex with shifters, nature Crypti of any sort, was a fierce, primal coupling, often. Lycanthropes might have been more human than animal, but when it came to the truly primal nature of their souls, they remained sexually an apex predator at their core. And Naberius was more than just animal spirited... he was born the Hound of Hades. He was an animal, at his core. And the prospect of it made me ache for him. "You're starving," he said simply, softly, caressing the inside of my thigh with his cheek and laying a soft kiss in the wake of his touch. "My people said you could have easily come home with a Nephilim boy or your ex-lover, the demon. Both could have fed you sufficiently... why didn't you feed on them?" There were also sufficient others at The Vixen last night, but I didn't bring any of them home, either. I had been too unsettled by the scenes that had taken place between Dominic and Ezra. He didn't ask, but the question still hung there, nonetheless.

"I don't trust myself," I confessed honestly, my voice thick with shame.

"It wasn't your fault, the human."

"Prove it." I arched an eye at our precarious position on the floor and against the closed front door, respectively.

"You need to feed." He said simply, as if this were perfectly clear and he was confused at the misunderstanding taking place.

"You offering?" I meant it to be flippant and flirty. In wasn't. It was a challenge, and the words came from some feral part of me that saw his inhumanity as alluring. As I have said... sex between Crypti can be hot as hell. It's the love part we suck at. Sadly, it was usually the love part I craved most of all, because it was so alien to me. When you craved flesh the way a succubus did, love rarely factors into it. So why did I want it so damn bad? And then there was this... this intense thing that lay between he and I. It should have terrified me. Goddess knew it did when I felt a similar pull to Ezra. But with Ezra... I wanted him to see the best of me. I wasn't sure I ever wanted him to see this... ravenous beast I could become. Some part of me would break a little to see the disgust in his face.