Page 133 of Blood Stone
Then he tore her jeans from her. He shredded them, barely without effort. He didn’t even look strained.
Kate shivered at the demonstration of physical strength. He plucked away her panties with no effort at all.
Then he stood between her thighs and stripped, watching her face the entire time.
“I can barely see you,” she whispered.
“I can see every inch of you perfectly.”
He slid his hand under her ass, lifting her hips to meet his. His other hand gripped the stairs above her head for leverage as he drove into her. It was hard and powerful and Kate moaned with satisfaction at being taken so masterfully. He was grinding his hips as he thrust so his cock stroked along the sides of her pussy in ways that it normally didn’t and she could feel every inch of him touching her.
Her climax didn’t build at all. It arrived fully formed and exploded over her like a fireworks display, a surprise that sparkled and dazzled, and left aftershocks glowing on her retinas.
Roman thrust even deeper in a series of swift little strokes and dropped his head to press it against hers. He came, his body tightening and growing still and he muttered something in a language she didn’t know, his lips brushing the nape of her neck.
Maybe ten seconds passed in silence. Then Roman picked her up, his cock still inside her, and climbed the stairs.
“Where now?” she asked.
“I want that massage,” he told her. “But first, I want to hear you scream.”
On her third orgasm, with the butt plug and Roman’s cock inside her, she did. But even as Roman tucked her into bed to sleep, she found her drowsy mind drifting back to Garrett. He followed her down into her sleep.
* * * * *
Moving through the darkened house, his ears tuned to the sound of Kate’s gentle breathing as she slept, Roman picked up the trail of clothing and garment fragments they’d cast about the stairs.
He was feeling light. Hollowed out. There was an enormous sense of relief and release in having Kate know it all, to have her know the worst and still have her in his bed and his arms. Somehow, a miracle had occurred.
He was feeling very lucky.
As he picked up the section of her jeans with the pockets sewn in, something fell out. He moved quickly to catch it and held it up. A chain. He let the pendant dangle so he could examine it.
He recognized it with a sick, sinking feeling.
When had Garrett given this to her? Had he told her what it really meant? Surely, Kate would have mentioned it if he had. She wouldn’t have casually stuffed such a thing in her pocket.
He stood on the stairs, debating with himself what to do. He could put the chain back in the scrap of denim and let it be thrown out with the rest of the garbage. Plead ignorance if Kate remembered the pendant and went looking for it.
The smell. He could still remember the smell. May as a month was his least favourite time of year. He tended to avoid Britain and most of Europe in May.
He climbed the stairs again, the sick feeling evolving, growing into a railing hatred for doing this to himself, for helping Garrett, but knowing it was the right thing to do, anyway. He laid the pendant on the side table next to Kate’s pillow, where she would find it in the morning.
Then he left the house.
* * * * *
It still early in the evening, so Garrett only fed enough to keep the fever silent. He would have to hunt and feed properly in another day or two, but he would be able to pick the time and location better. After tonight’s trauma and the emotional upheavals around it, his hunger had arrived early and with a vengeance.
He was still quartering his feeding area, cleaning it of traces, when Roman stole into the lane like a mist and a rumour. One minute Garrett was alone. Next, Roman was by his side.
Garrett nodded and finished his fine filtered scan of the pavement for blood and other bodily fluids before he straightened up.
“Figured you’d be out tonight,” Roman murmured.
“Not a hard one to call, considering,” Garrett replied, just as quietly. He moved off, heading for the street, light and human-ness.
Roman caught up with him. “Hey.”
