Page 9 of Isaiah and Jameson
3
Isaiah spoke very firmly to himself. He wasn’t allowed to indulge—not too much in anything—and he knew it. If he lost control…
He sighed, drawing into himself. Ice. He was made of ice. He was born from ice. Not just moderation. He had to deny the animal inside him.
Everything was distant and slow.
“Are you all right?” Jameson seemed attuned to him in a way he hadn’t expected. The tiniest shift of his mood and Jameson seemed to notice. Sometimes Harve was too good at his job, perhaps. He was meant to get Isaiah a front, not an actual lover.
He shook his head. “Of course I am.”
“Hmmm.” Jameson crowded him when they stepped into the rooms Isaiah had picked for his “consort”. Close to his, but not connected. Luxurious but not tacky. Despite his auntie’s attempts to redecorate.
He’d never met a made vampire, and the inherent sexuality stunned him. Jameson was a force of nature, free with touches and smiles and blood feeding. Nothing at all like a born vampire from an ancient line.
He needed to remember that his kind never lost themselves. Their control kept them from being animals. Savages. They could destroy things without blinking, because their strength was fifty times that of a human’s.
A hot hand slid down his back. “You’re tense.”
His eyes rolled at the utterly desirable touch.Ice. You’re ice.“Am I?”
“You are. Is it me? I don’t want to upset you.” Jameson rubbed at the tight muscles around his spine.
“I’ve never known anyone so warm.” The heat from that contact made him burn.
“Not even after they fed?” That had Jameson sounding surprised.
“No.” He didn’t remember it if he’d felt anyway. “We’re not very…demonstrative. And I don’t live feed.”
“That’s a shame. Physical contact can be like a good drug.” Jameson hugged him, arms sliding around him from behind and pressing against his back.
He arched, his eyes going wide, sensation flooding him. No one had ever touched him so unreservedly. Ever. There were air kisses and people who tried to control him, but no one who was so sexual.
“Breathe. Breathe, now. I have you.”
Breathe? How? He couldn’t. Jamesonhadhim rather well, in fact. So well that he was breathless.
“Have you never been held?”
He shook his head. Why would anyone hold him? Maybe when he’d been a small child.
“It feels good, Isaiah. Provides comfort. Calms the central nervous system. People crave hugs at least thirteen times a day.”
Isaiah had the feeling Jameson was laughing, but not at him. More offering to let him join in.
“Calms? You have odd ideas.” Wonderful perhaps, but odd. He wasn’t really a person, though, was he? He was a vampire of lofty origin. It wasn’t his place to crave contact.
“Do I?” Jameson stroked his belly, that touch fiery even through his clothes.
“Oh.” He sucked in a deep breath, a wild need bubbling inside him.
Jameson pressed a cheek between his shoulder blades, leaning hard. “See? It feels good.”
“We shouldn’t.” He knew better. He knew he shouldn’t be tempted to let go and feel things.
“Why? If you don’t want to, I’ll let go, but if it’s just because you think you shouldn’t due to clan rules, then come sit with me. Snuggle.”
What an odd word, snuggle. He supposed it was one of those words that matched sound to action.
