From the Shadows (A Shadow Chronicles Novel) (13 page)

My lover had the decency to look chagrined at my dressing down, and looked away from me
for a moment before looking back and saying, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you were withholding something from me.”

My ire immediately deflated. “I’m sure you didn’t. I should be more annoyed at the bloodsucker here,” I said, jerking a thumb in Lochlan’s direction, “for even bringing it up. Our ways are none of his business.”

I turned to Lochlan again. “I have a feeling your old friend Marian or one of the many werekind you’ve met over the years told you a hell of a lot more than they should have. That particular ceremony was never meant to be shared with outsiders. It’s a private matter between mates, and you had no business bringing it up.”

Lochlan’s smirk shifted to mimic Race’s chastised expression. “My apologies. I was merely having a bit of fun with your man here, trying to get his measure.”

“It’s not up to you to decide if he’s right for me Lochlan,” I said. “The magic of our kind chose him for me, and me for him. Same as the magic of yours chose Mark for Saphrona long before he was even born.”

“Aye, that it… Wait, chose
you
for
him
?” the vampire queried. “Well, bugger me. I ought have known—he is a chimaera after all. ‘Tis a side effect of his variable nature, I believe.”

“What is?” Race and I asked in unison.

Loch looked between us. “The double imprint. It goes along with werekind finding mates among each other—the chimaera must find his, or hers, first. At least it’s what Marian and I both concluded. Only when there is a chimaera alive and bonded to his or her own mate will the binding magic preventing such from occurring throughout the two-natured community be lifted, and so shall it last for as long as the chimaera lives.”

I stared at Lochlan for a long moment. I didn’t want to have to ask a bloodsucking leech, of all beings, this particular question, but it seemed that he was the only one alive who had the answer. “So if you and this Marian, whom we’ll never meet, are to be believed,” I began slowly. “Race and I must complete our bonding according to the sacred ways if we want to give other werekind the chance to find mates among our own kind
—not that there’s anything wrong with bonding with humans?”

Lochlan’s expression was devoid of the snarky playfulness he’d shown me when I came out of the bathroom. His nod and tone were solemn as he said, “Aye. Why do you suppose they call ‘
im the Beast Master?”

Well, wasn’t that just wonderful? Perhaps it was part o
f the “when your need for him is greatest” bit that the psychic had mentioned, because wouldn’t you know it? Race and I were apparently meant to be the metaphorical mother and father of the next generation.

But no pressure.

Numbly I moved to sit on Race’s lap again, and he welcomed me with open arms and a kiss on my cheek. I knew that I should be more concerned with how he was handling this revelation, but for a moment all I could think about was the enormity of the responsibility I now had before me, of the part I would play in the future of my own people. It was incredibly daunting to realize that if I for any reason chose not to complete the bonding, if I chose to forsake the old ritual, that it would quite possibly be another three centuries or more before my people had the chance to mate among werekind instead of humans. Although Race certainly had a part to play as well, the reality was that it was up to me, and if I chose to say no then the fault would be mine. Because once again, it was all about having a choice.

I suddenly knew how Atlas felt when he’d held the world upon his shoulders.

“I am sorry,” Lochlan said quietly. “I can see this is quite a shock to both of you, though one would think that you at least, my fair Juliette, would have heard the stories.”

I blinked several times, trying to collect my thoughts. “I… Obviously I’d heard about chimaera being called the Beast Master, but I didn’t know precisely why. All the stories we have, that my mother used to tell me as a little girl, they all said that the chimaera was the Beast Master because he could become so many different animals.”

“That may well be a part of it, having to master so many different forms,” Lochlan said.

“Wow,” I said, taking a shaky breath. “I think I know now how Saphrona felt last month when I told her about
dhunphyr
blood being addictive to vampires: I’ve just learned something I didn’t know about my own people from my people’s natural enemy.”

Lochlan frowned.
“We’re not enemies, Juliette.”

“Oh, Loch, that’s not what I meant,” I told him. “I know that you and I are not enemies. Not anymore. But the symbolism is still there.”

He appeared to think about that for a moment and then nodded. “I suppose you’ve a point,” he said.

I glanced down at Race, and looking into those fathomless eyes of his again, seeing
him look back at me with open wonder, I suddenly wished very much that Lochlan wasn’t sitting across from us. He must have sensed—probably by an increase in our pheromone levels—that it was time to exist stage right, for he cleared his throat and rose, saying, “I’ll be out in my car, sleeping. Please don’t take off anywhere without stopping to say goodbye, if it’s not too much to ask.”

It occurred to me then that I hadn’t seen the Escalade in the parking lot. I looked into his suddenly weary dark eyes and nodded. Lochlan made his way to the door and I rose to follow.
I placed my hand on the knob as he stepped out so I could shut and lock it behind him, and he turned back for a moment.

“I am truly happy for you, my dear,” Lochlan said softly, before he turned and walked away.

As soon as I had shut the door and flipped the lock, Race was behind me, his hands on my hips, his mouth nuzzling my ear. I’d thought to talk to him for a moment, to try and clear things up—maybe even to explain the bonding ritual—but all thoughts of conversation fled when his tongue expertly traced the rim of my ear and he took the lobe between his teeth for a gentle nip. I whimpered as fire immediately raced through my veins, and I tried to turn around, to meet his kisses with my own.

Race held me against him, running one hand under the borrowed sweatshirt to take hold of one of my breasts, the other slipping into the waistband of the pants to reach for my sex.

“Oh my,” he whispered huskily in my ear as he slid his finger back and forth across my opening, stroking my already swelling labia. “Already so wet for me.”

I grabbed hold of his neck with my left hand as he dipped the finger inside me, another whimper escaping me. I had to brace myself against the door with my other hand as he began to slide his finger in and out, brushing against my clitoris with his palm as he worked.

“Race,” I pleaded. “Oh…”

He nuzzled my neck, pinching my nipple as he continued to drive me to
a frenzy. “What do you want, Juliette?”

“I want…oh God…I want you.”

“Baby, that’s nothing new to me,” he said with a chuckle. “Be specific about what you want. Here’s an example: I want to taste you.”

With that, he removed his hand from between my legs, and I groaned in protest as he was raising his wet finger to his mouth, sucking my essence off of it.

“Mmm, like honey and ginger, with a bit of something hot,” he murmured. “But that’s not nearly enough.”

He took me by the shoulders then and guided me over to the bed, where he turned me around and gently pushed me down. My eyes widened with expectancy, heat flashing through me again as he leaned down and grabbed the waistband of the sweats, yanking them off with a swift jerk. “Take the top off,” he told me as he slowly got to his knees.

I hurried to comply, tossing the sweatshirt aside carelessly and leaning back on my elbows as he scooted forward. Race then reached under my legs and cupped my bottom in his hands, dragging me closer. My breathing grew shallow in anticipation, knowing what was coming and wanting it more desperately than I would have thought possible. Feeling wanton, I opened up for him, cradling my knees on his arms, and watched him as he studied my most intimate parts.

“You a
re so fucking beautiful,” he said breathily, and then without warning, dipped his head and ran his tongue up my folds, twirling it around my clit when he reached it. I cried out and fell back on the bed, grasping the blanket in both hands as he worked his magic, swishing his tongue up and down, up and down, teasing my throbbing, overly sensitive nub and then repeating the movements. I cried out again as he brought a hand into the torture, easing first one and than two fingers inside of me, moving them in and out slowly as his wicked tongue focused on my clit.

I could feel my climax building, climbing toward the peak. Coherent thought escaped me, my mind focusing only on the incredible pleasure. I couldn’t help myself bucking my hips into his face, wanting to take him deeper. And then the dam broke and I cried out, grabbing hold of Race’s hair and holding him to me as I writhed, panting and moaning through each wave of ecstasy.

Although my head was spinning from my release, as soon as I felt able to move I rose into a wobbly sitting position. Race sat back with a grin of satisfaction on his face. I leaned forward and brushed my lips across his, tasting myself, then with his chin in my hand, leaned back ever so much and said, “My turn, pretty boy.”

Race immediately stood and dragged his shirt over his head, while my hands worked to open the fly of his jeans. I could see that he was already hard as a rock, his erection pressing against the restrainin
g clothing. I grinned up at his face as I grabbed the waistband of jeans and briefs both and jerked them down, then cupped a buttock with one hand and wrapped his throbbing member in the other. I began as he had, with slow, lazy strokes, and then the
coup de grace
—I took him into my mouth slowly, enjoying the delicious groan he released as he placed one hand on my shoulder and fisted the other in my hair.

I very much enjoyed torturing Race as he had tortured me, gliding my tongue up and down his shaft, teasing the slit in the head and licking up drops of salty pre-come. His groans became a soft growl as my lips encircled him again and I took the whole of him into my mouth, the
tip of him dipping into my throat. I drew back and flicked my tongue across the tip and then went down again, pulled back and swirled my tongue around his head, and was about to go all the way down a third time when Race suddenly reached under my arms and lifted me, tossing me back on the bed as he viciously kicked off his shoes, divesting himself of the garments around his ankles next before climbing onto the bed with me.

I watched as he prowled toward me in a graceful, cat-like manner. I saw raw hunger in his eyes and knew that it mirrored my own, and when he came at me, bending me backward as his mouth took mine and devoured it, I opened myself up for him again. Race needed no further invitation, and positioning himself between my thighs he thrust into me deeply, all the way to the hilt. I cried out against his mouth and bucked against him, wanting to take him even deeper. My fingernails dug into his back and I hooked my legs around his, holding to me as we moved. There was little gentleness this time, and to my surprise I was okay with that. I felt the same urgency,
the same need to join ourselves together.

Race trailed his lips down to my throat, sucking hard
as he pounded in and out of me. I was gasping for air as though I was drowning, lifting my hips to meet each of his thrusts.

“Oh God! Harder!” I cried, and was rewarded with deeper, harder thrusts. “Oh yes!”

“Oh, fuck, baby. I’m gonna come,” Race ground out.

I drew his head back up and looked into his eyes. “Come for me,” I murmured breathlessly.

And he did. Then so did I.

***

We lay together afterward, legs tangled together, arms around each other, each of us working to catch our breath. I trailed my hand lightly up and down Race’s arm, tracing the lines of his bicep.

“Juliette?”

“Hmm?”

Race turned his head to look at me. “Tell me about it. About the bonding ritual Lochlan was referring to.”

I sighed, then raised up on my elbow and looked down at him. “Tit for tat, pretty boy. You tell me one thing—just one—that you did for the vampires. I don’t care how bad it is, just tell me. I’m not going to judge you.”

Race groaned and dragged a hand over his face, then pushed into a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He sat
staring at the curtained window with his shoulders slumped for several long minutes before he spoke. “Nearly every bloodsucker I have ever worked for has had me bring them food, and obviously of the human variety. Male or female, young or old—didn’t matter so long as it was fresh, though nowadays most of them seem to have a thing for college co-eds. Better for a suck and fuck, or so I’ve been told.”

I couldn’t hide the shock in my voice as I
rose to my knees and asked, “Please tell me… You didn’t bring them children, did you?”

He turned around. “No, I swear! I
never
brought them children. It was the one thing I refused to do. I could not subject children to that nightmare.”

He swore under his breath and turned away from me again, bracing his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands. “Most of the time, I take
the men and women I bring to them back home. But God, there are times when I walk in and find them dead. I fucking hate myself for that, for having brought people to their deaths.”