Page 68 of Seph

That was one thing she had noticed, to her shock, since living in Pine Ridge. Vampires who had their souls didn’t have a crystal-clear reflection, but they had a watery sort of outline. They could pray, go to church, even touch holy objects. They were like some third race that her father had never taught her about—not human, not vampire.

“You don’t reflect. Jesse and Jakob—”

“Have souls. I don’t. They never killed innocents. I did, somewhere along the line. Most that I killed weren’t, but that’s... Well. Demon in residence, you know.” Simeon dropped his hands and stepped away. “You knew that, Huntress.”

“I knew it. I know. Sorry, I... It startles me sometimes.”And my father’s voice is screaming in my head, close to my face, spit flecks flying against my skin as I wince—that if I’m ever fooled by them, I’m as good as dead. That I’ll deserve it, that I’ll deserve it because I’ll have failed to be a real Van Helsing, failed to live up to the family name.

“You’re far away. Farther than Vegas.”

“He told me you would seduce me.”What? I wasn’t thinking about that!

Or maybe, on some level, I’m always thinking about it...

The words popped out, as startling as a creepy jack-in-the-box, a grim lesson that her father had insisted she learn by looking at the bodies of pretty young victims with empty eyes and little holes in their throats.

“What, me? You were in your teens when you started going on his little father-daughter hunts in London. I never even—”

“Not you, specifically. Demons. Vampires. They seduce. They don’t love. They charm and trick and trap. Then...” She let one bare, muscular arm fall gracefully. “They kill.”

“Oh. But the souled ones, the ones with the infestation, a vampire’s venom but no active ‘rider’ to speak of, they can love, can they?”

“My father would say no.” She turned to face him. She couldn’t stand to look ahead and see nothing in front of her while feeling his body right behind hers.

“Do you think gods have souls, Emily?” he asked, that low, silky voice quizzical but confident.

Sometimes she hated that. Hundreds of years older than her—of course he knew more. He rarely asked questions unless he already knew the answers. So smooth. So polished. So sure. Why flaunt it?

Because that’s who he is. That’s what he does. Cocky bastard.

But sometimes that confidence was put in her, and it was the warmest hug in the world.

“I don’t know. They’re immortal.”

“I think they have souls. A soul is what makes you immortal—or a demon. Either way, whether you live forever on this earth or know you’ll go on to the next, you’ve got something ethereal jammed inside of you. Do you think all humans have souls?”

“I know they do. I studied my theology. If you have to kill demons, you learn about Heaven and Hell. There’s a reason why crosses and Stars of David repel vampires.”

“Yet there are plenty of humans with souls walking around with big smiles and all the religious jewelry hung about their necks by day—doing horrible things by night. Isn’t that right, Huntress?” he ran a slow finger down her shoulder, dire words conflicting with his sensual touch. “Killers have souls. Murderers, rapists, kidnappers... They have souls. It’s notwhether or not you have it so much as what you do with it.” Simeon returned his hands to her hips. “Things like me... Oh, we can love if we put our minds to it. Just watch me.” He winked.

She shivered, but it was a delicious shiver, the kind she’d only just learned about, like when he rubbed her overstimulated clit after making her come, forcing her to relax, unspool, and come undone again, his pleasure derived from hers.

“Is this some game to you?” she whispered, leaning into his touch despite her conflicting instincts. “Cat and mouse, and we take turns being the cat?”

“Oh, yes. Absolutely. Only, this time, when we catch each other, we pin each other down and defer the kill in favor ofla petite mort.” His hand pressed firmly between her thighs, instantly connecting with her already pulsing button. “The little death, when I take your soul out for a little spin and then put it right back,” he purred.

“Simeon...” She barely breathed out his name, a rusty rasp of pleasure as his hand worked faster. She squirmed, legs parting. In a second, they had rocked back, falling onto the plush beige chair, dress rising to settle above her thighs. “We can’t—”

“But you can. My turn to be the cat, Emily.”

A lewd thrill raced directly to her core as he pulled her panties to one side and she watched his invisible manipulations in the mirror. Pussy parted and glistening. Pink folds twitching under his perfectly timed manipulations. She blushed and jerked back against him when he spread her wide, showing her the intimate pieces she had never seen, never bothered to examine. “Stop.”

“No. Fuck, Emily, you’re so wet for me. So gorgeous, inside and out, and I mean inside your body and soul, and outside, too.” A kiss that would surely leave a mark, even without fangs, burned and bruised against her neck as he moved his second hand under his first. He came up from behind, sliding down herass until two fingers buried themselves in her pussy, pushing hard against her upper wall. The other hands continued, pushed down over her mound, grinding her clit against his fingers, trapping her in a friction sandwich.

“Oh, God. Oh, God!” The first a whisper, the second a cry she couldn’t muffle.

“Love you. And I’ll prove it.” Simeon’s voice penetrated the haze of the fast and furious orgasm he delivered.

Emily fell from his lap, legs vibrating and seemingly no longer connected to her central nervous system. Simeon helped her up and smirked as he supported her. “We definitely have to buy that dress now,” he remarked, brazenly sucking her juices from his fingers.

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