Page 307 of Dragon Slayer

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VAL, MATE, MINE

During her fight with her first tumor, after her operation, Mia had taken the kind of opiate painkillers that sent her kaleidoscopic waking dreams, all awash in color and nameless pleasant sensations. That’s what this reminded her of – only now that pleasure was acute and definable, and through the acid-trip glow of delight, she could see each detail with aching clarity.

Val pressed his wrist to her mouth again, and this time she could smell the blood in a way she’d never been able to before. The salt of it, yes, but she could read what it said on a cellular level, too:vampire,male,Valerian,mine. The knowledge bloomed in her head; she couldn’t have explained it if she tried, but sheknewthese things.

His wound was red and ragged from her mouth, and from his – he kept reopening it with his fangs so the blood would flow fresh; she knew it must hurt when she opened her lips over it and sucked. It had just tasted like blood at first, salty like when she accidently bit the inside of her own mouth. But slowly, as they fed, passing blood back and forth, she could feel the beginnings of a change. It tasted now like something to crave: like wine or chocolate. Her head spun pleasantly, and she closed her eyes; held his arm with both hands, holding him to her, though he had no intention of pulling away.

“That’s it, darling, take as much as you can.” His voice was ragged; she could hear the desire in it; feel his want like a pulse in the humid air between them.

He knelt between her spread thighs, his free hand anchored on her hip. She had his blood in her mouth, but he wasn’t close enough.Intense, he’d said of this process, and that had been an understatement. She needed more of him; needed everything.

She passed her tongue over the pulpy wound on his wrist and rested a moment, panting against his skin. “Val.” A shameless plea. She was past the point of dignity – as was he.

“I know, I know.” Breathless, his pupils tall, narrow, catlike slits as he stared down at her, free hand moving restless down her stomach and between her thighs, where she was tender, almost-bruised, but slick with need and aching for him again. “Drink,” he said, and pulled her up into his lap, her legs falling over his hips, sharp bones pressing into the bruises he’d already left there. He slid into her with a low, rippling moan that turned into a growl at the end, head tipping back, eyes shut.

She took his wrist again, drawing his blood into her mouth.Val,mate,mine,mine,mine.

~*~

She didn’t smell sick anymore. She smelled like blood, and sex, and him, his claiming of her, like a woman mated. But the sour tang of the tumor was gone. And in its place the scent of vampire, blooming slow like spring’s first flowers beneath her skin.

Not just any vampire, but one born of his blood. His turning. His…everything.

“Mia…Mia…”

He was sitting up against the headboard, and had her in his lap. Thighs split over his hips, her wet heat gripping him so tight. She rested her hands on his shoulders, thighs flexing as she lifted in little increments and then seated herself again, working him over until it was all he could do to form words. He was getting close, but he didn’t want to come yet; he was sore, and exhausted, and blood-drunk, but he wanted this to last.

And every bit of urgency that bled through his fingers where he touched her she gave back twofold. The turning was upon her, and it had left her ravenous.

She leaned in to kiss him, her hair tangling with his, so it was a curtain against the outside world. The change in angle did delightful things to the sex, and they both breathed punched-out sounds in response. He growled – and so did she, now; he could hear the feline harmonics undercutting her voice now.

It was a sloppy kiss, mostly just breathing against one another. “Do you,” she started, “do you – again…?” And she tried to tip her head to the side.

His own voice was a brittle shell of its normal sound. “Once more. I think.” The marks he’d opened into her throat thus far had half-healed, but the skin there was pink and tender. Carefully, gently, he tucked his face in and bit her again. She came when his fangs pierced her, walls squeezing tight around him. He found his own finish as he drank, a few last swallows to complete the circuit.

Stars burst behind his eyes, and Mia slumped down, her head on his shoulder.

When he finally gathered the strength to reach with one shaking hand and push her hair back, he saw that she’d swooned; dead asleep.

Her pulse thumped strong, though, regular and healthy. The scent of the cancer was completely gone.

Now, she only smelled likehis.

Val bundled her close, tipped his head back, and let sleep claim him as well.

~*~

Fulk’s weapons cache and several outfits a piece were all the belongings they’d brought with them to Virginia. Once both of them were back on their feet and no longer floating on the opiate-like tide of post-binding torpor, they began preparations for leaving. In what Anna hoped was a subtle way.

Fulk locked up his weapons chest and took it down a back servants’ staircase. He was gone a long time, long enough that she had long since packed all their personal effects in one big duffel and was pacing back and forth across the rug by the time he returned.

She jumped when she slipped back into the room. “How did it go? Was anyone suspicious? Did they stop you? What did the guards say?”

He’d looked concentrated and battle-ready when he entered the room, but a smile slipped through now, as he gathered her into a hug and kissed the top of her head. “Yes, there were some guards, and I do think they were suspicious. But. I played it off well. I think. I hope.” Doubt touched his voice. “In any event, the car is packed.”

She nodded. Having it ready and running was his job, while she would see to their charges.

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