[Nectar 01.0] Nectar Read online

  After the jolting pain something warm, she didn’t know what, felt like it surged through her veins, all of her veins. Her eyes were wide, her mouth agape, and every nerve ending in her body seemed like it was participating. She gripped the scrolled headboard so fiercely her hands hurt as ripples of sensation ran through her. It was like one orgasm rolled into another and then another. His eyes widened and then his gaze met hers while he continued to drink. The expression on his face, she couldn’t decipher it, but it scared the shit out of her, touched something else inside that she didn’t know she had, that she couldn’t name.

  It didn’t feel like he was taking blood from her body, it was as if something hot was entering her veins instead. It was hot and electric, and something else, but what? She didn’t know. It was such a strange and foreign sensation flooding through every single fucking inch of her body. Like music in her veins.

  Free falling, she closed her eyes to try to stop the world from spinning, but she saw stars and a kaleidoscope of pink, purple, and orange patterns. It was like all she was… was a bundle of powerful nerves. Shudders were being repeatedly wrung out of her as the earth got closer and closer to her. Something warm and sweet was blooming bigger and bigger inside her and then she felt the sensations in her body begin to ebb.

  He trailed his fingertips gently up her stomach to her breasts and he brushed the tips with his fingers, pulling another shudder out of her. He then disengaged his mouth from her and climbed up, flipping her over so that she was on top of him again. He held her up at arm’s length by the shoulders for a second and stared deep into her eyes. She was like a ragdoll, limp in his grasp, looking wide-eyed at his fangs, which were red with her blood. And then the fangs disappeared.

  His tongue swept across his top lip and then his bottom lip and he let out a shudder, his bright blue eyes filled with a look of stupefied amazement as he chewed his lower lip and shook his head slowly, as if in disbelief.

  She was out of breath, hyperventilating, tingling all over. Her body was rapidly starting to cool down after all that heat, all that fire. He pulled her to his chest, pulled the elastic band out of her hair, and ran his fingers through it, untangling her long, dark loose curls and fanning them across his naked chest. She heard a noise come out of her mouth that sounded almost like a purr.

  What the heck?

  “Wow,” he whispered huskily into her ear, the sound vibrating through her whole body, and then he tilted her chin up so that their eyes met. “That was fucking ambrosia. Never tasted anything like that. Who are you?”

  He looked at her searchingly, shaking his head again in what she could only guess might be disbelief. She didn’t know what to do. She felt like her limbs were boneless and her body tingled all over. Heat crept up her face and she was sure her cheeks had to be bright scarlet. She couldn’t believe what’d just happened. She came harder than she thought possible. And it was like something was short-circuiting in her brain. Nothing felt solid or real.

  “You, your blood…” he said, “And you…wow. Lucid, responding, wet, hot, and you taste like that? What a birthday gift. Holy fuck.”

  She was breathless, still. Then something warm was tickling her inner thigh so she looked down and saw a thin trail of blood trickling slowly down her leg, which was tangled up with his jean-clad legs. He evidently saw it too, because he flipped her over onto her back and then his tongue trailed up from just below her knee to just inside the inner fold of her leg. How could something so violent be so totally erotic?

  He flicked his tongue over the wound and then planted a soft kiss on the spot that had, what she could just barely see, due to the dimness of the room, were puncture marks. The bleeding stopped. She lifted her head to look at the spot more closely and was about to reach for it but then suddenly her arms were pinned above her head with one of his hands and he kicked off his boots as he unzipped his jeans with the other. He gave her a heated stare, reached down to free himself, and then he slammed his cock into her, balls deep all in one hard thrust.

  It was so full, so intense. She gasped at the pinching sensation. She hadn’t felt pinching like that since she’d lost her virginity. He stared directly into her eyes, the heat coming off his eyes intensified like the blue bit of a flame. They seemed to flicker, seemed to be emitting heat. On his face was an expression she could only describe as carnal.

  “Oh, fuck. So fucking wet and tight.” He rotated his hips and his mouth dropped open as he moaned, “I might have to keep you.”

  Her eyes went wide, startled at that comment, but a groan escaped her mouth because of what was happening to her, south of the border. He slowly eased about 90% of the way out, a little mischievous smirk on his face as he seemed to be watching her mouth; she was panting. Then, he slammed, hard, balls deep.

  He bared normal non-vampire teeth, savagely, and his eyes narrowed, but it felt like heat shot out of them, directly into her eyes. It was an exquisite assault and she felt like she was almost paralyzed, but full of sensation, everywhere. This Adonis with the almost glowing-in-the-dark eyes was repeatedly slamming into her and holding her eyes prisoner. Her body was betraying her brain.

  She whimpered. He lowered and ripped her nearly sheer tunic off, tossing it aside and tore her tank top down, ripping it half way off her as easily as if it were a piece of paper. He took a nipple into his mouth, giving her an opportunity to turn her head away, finally squeeze her eyes shut tight. She didn’t consider the fact that she was now providing easy access to her throat. His mouth slid up her skin and he immediately started to tongue her throat, like he was priming the area. She whimpered again, and started to breathe shallowly, feeling on the verge of another orgasm.

  She had a fleeting moment of clarity and thrust her hands against his chest, “No. Stop.” She tried to push him, but it was futile. He smiled like he was in the ether. He pulled her arms up so that they were wrapped around his neck and then let go as drove into her again, this time slowly, an inch at a time, watching her face contort with every advance. She held on tight. Her legs wrapped themselves tightly around his waist and then threw her head back as he hit the final inch. Why was her body being so traitorous?

  “Fascinating,” he breathed, “Your mouth says no but your body says Yes.” He started to go faster, pushing harder, rotating his hips with each thrust.

  “Listen to my mouth,” she breathed, but then she started to feel the ripples of the impending orgasm, and as she started to tremble hard, he held her face by the jaw, staring into her eyes. The sensations ripped through her almost violently. She couldn’t look away. It was horror and it was ecstasy and they were braided together. She was having a vaginal orgasm unlike anything she’d ever felt or thought her body was capable of.

  Then he bared his fangs and sank them into her throat. It stung at first, but an instant later, it went semi-numb. As he drank her blood, her arms went limp and fell to the pillows above her head. She moaned, feeling a tingling spread throughout the veins in her arms and her legs. She reached up and grabbed his shoulders and then dug her nails in. Everything hummed at her throat where he’d bit, and then it trickled downward toward her toes. Something inside felt, felt…she couldn’t articulate it. He arched his back and let go of her throat, pulling her away from that thought. His eyes blazed.

  “Wow, baby,” he muttered, staring at her. “You feel and taste like Heaven. Is that where you came from?” He caressed her face.

  She started to feel dizzy, hit the peak, and the orgasm seemed to go on and on and on. He’d let go of her throat, but kept pumping forward, over and over, staring at her with intensity. White noise rushed through her head and as she was locked into his eyes she felt like she was being pulled into them. Warmth flooded through her body and then surrounded her, like a cocoon.

  “Tristan…” she whimpered and grabbed his shoulders tighter, but she wasn’t sure what she was asking for. Did she want him to stop? Did she want more? She didn’t know. She was so confused. The warmth in her veins was so sweet
she could taste it. A lone tear trickled down her cheek and Tristan was staring at it, awestruck.

  He gasped, his eyes widened and flickered like dark blue flames, and then he touched his lips to the tear and drank it, swallowed hard, then cussed a loud, groaning, and gritty Fuuuck, then spilled into her and collapsed on top of her.

  It was quiet for a moment but for their hearts beating wildly, almost competing at whose was louder. She inhaled deeply and then her heart began to beat in time with his. She strained to listen, her brow furrowing, but it was clear, both of their hearts sounding loud in her ears and in perfect unison and it felt like if it weren’t for his heartbeat hers would halt. She felt light-headed, euphoric. She was totally pinned underneath him and totally and completely relaxed. She looked up and realized that her fingers were threaded into his hair --- his dark, silky soft hair. She abruptly let go and put her palms against her cheekbones.

  “Holy crap,” she clipped.

  “You remembered,” he said softly and rose up on his palms and then kissed the tip of her nose, hovering over her.

  He was staring at her in disbelief. “My name,” he said. “You said it. Best birthday present ever.” The way he enunciated ever was so sensual. He touched her forehead with his lips and then trapped her eyes with his again. She frowned.

  He was out of breath, tiny beads of sweat on his forehead. He didn’t look like a blood-sucking monster. He didn’t feel, right now, like a kidnapping rapist. The arrogance seemed like it was gone and instead there was a gorgeous and satisfied-looking guy hovering over her, looking at her, no gazing at her, like he could see inside of her soul.

  Her body language wasn’t that of a woman who’d been forced into sex after being kidnapped. She lay there, relaxed, not huddled in a corner like a victim. She felt so loose, never looser, like every muscle in her body had previously been wound tight but had been liberated, sprung free. Kyla didn’t even smoke but felt like a cigarette would’ve been pretty fitting right now.

  There you have it, she thought to herself, I’ve been seduced by a vampire.

  “Never in my life,” he said, looking at her with wonder.

  A long moment passed.

  “We need to sleep now,” he commanded and pulled her against him, repositioning her so that her head rested on his muscular naked chest.

  She inhaled to speak, to protest, but it turned into a yawn. She opened her mouth again, but didn’t have the strength or even the words. Her limbs and her eyes were so heavy that she was pretty sure she couldn’t move, anyway.

  Suddenly, she heard fabric tearing at her back and her breasts sprang the rest of the way free from her now shredded tank top as it was removed and then her skirt was ripped off and tossed to the floor. Her naked skin was now directly against his naked skin. She felt a protest bubble up, but her eyelids had never been as heavy as they were right now.

  Although she was already directly against his body, she felt like she was being pulled deeper into him, almost as if she were a paperclip and he was a giant magnet. She let out a frustrated little huff, but then she involuntarily nuzzled into what seemed like hot quicksand and it was enveloping her and making her even sleepier. A little voice in her head questioned the bizarre move. She felt like a total contradiction right now. He smelled like warm butterscotch sauce and it was like she could almost taste the warm and creamy smoothness of it on her tongue and feel its sweet warmth around herself.

  “Am I gonna wake up?” She wasn’t sure if that was a thought or if she’d asked aloud, but then she surrendered to sleep without waiting for an answer. She closed her eyes and slid into an almost instant and deep sleep after it occurred to her, as she gave into it, that this felt like it would be a deeper sleep than she’d had in a long time.

  3

  It was, indeed, a deep and restful sleep, but a split second after her eyes opened, her circumstances registered in bold Technicolor. She bolted upright and was instantly out of breath. Not a dream! How much time had passed? She pulled a thick deep red comforter up under her armpits.

  Seduced by a vampire? Seriously, Kyla?

  She was still there. In the vampire’s, what, lair? But it was daylight and she was alone. The curtains were opened part way and the room was filled with light. She was wearing nothing.

  She surveyed her surroundings. It was a large room dominated by a queen-sized bed with four posters and ornate ironwork. She saw herself in her mind, with her hands attached to that ironwork, white knuckled as she got pummeled by the gorgeous monster. Heat rose in her cheeks as she remembered how drop-dead beautiful he was and how much she’d responded to him --- drop-dead being the operative phrase here. At least she wasn’t dead. Yet.

  On the nightstand beside her was a big glass pitcher of ice water and a drinking glass alongside. She leaned over and poured some, feeling shaky. She gulped down a full glass and then poured a second glass and looked around. In addition to the door that she knew was an exit, there were two more doors and she hoped one would lead her to a bathroom.

  There was a cream-coloured wingback upholstered chair beside the bed. She didn’t recall that being there the night before. She was pretty sure it had been over in the sitting area at the bottom of the bed, where a black leather loveseat and a dark wood trunk coffee table faced a dark stone fireplace. Beside the fireplace was a door that was slightly open. She spied what looked like a robe across the arm of the loveseat so she darted quickly and grabbed it. Sure enough, it was a long caramel-coloured silky robe. It smelled like him. Like what, though; what did he smell like? Something male mixed with sugar? She inhaled deeply and sensed caramel and something else, like cotton candy but yet masculine. Was that sweet aroma cologne or just the smell of vampire? She didn’t know. She felt the colour rise in her cheeks again as she saw again, in her mind, the night before and remembered the way she had responded to him.

  Her captor.

  The vampire.

  Tristan.

  Where was the blue-eyed monster, anyway? In a coffin somewhere, hiding from the daylight? She swallowed hard and blew her hair out of her eyes. She must be under a spell. What girl in her right mind deconstructs a rape by trying to figure out what that awesome scent was? What girl in her right mind says the name of her captor in the throes of passion?

  Oh! Jack the Ripper… Harder, Jack, harder! Faster, Jack, faster!

  Damn. This didn’t make any sense, even if he was movie star beautiful. She never figured herself so shallow that she’d just succumb to Stockholm syndrome based on looks and an orgasm. Okay, two orgasms. Two orgasms that topped the list, obliterated it, even.

  But, this wasn’t an ordinary kidnapper. It was a vampire kidnapper. He must have her under some sort of a spell, even if her eyes weren’t “vacant” as he’d put it. If vampires were really real, then maybe witchcraft was real too, and at play here with Kyla’s brain. No, she wasn’t vacant like Tristan’s other victims, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t doing something to her brain to make her behave so unlike her usual guarded self.

  She blew her hair out of her non-vacant eyes and looked around as she tied the sash on the robe. Her clothes, shoes, and purse were absent. Some good the clothes would do her. She remembered that he’d ripped most of what she’d worn to shreds. She tiptoed to the big floor-to-ceiling window and carefully peered out, hiding behind the thick black floor-length drapes. She was on the second story.

  Below was a large courtyard with a swimming pool and spacious patio area. The window overlooked a long terrace and she saw that there was a door behind the thick drapes that opened to that terrace.

  The opposite end had a dark brown and gray stone wall with a few windows and doors and balcony as well. It may have been the same balcony, all the way around. She couldn’t quite tell without opening the drapes further, which she didn’t want to do right now not knowing what was out there or where he was. She backed up and stood in the middle of the rich-looking bedroom and tried to decide what to do next.

  Before she co
uld even begin to think about escaping, she needed to see if that was, indeed, a bathroom door, so she walked to the opened door by the fireplace and sure enough, it was. She shut the door behind herself and locked it.

  It was at least the size of her living room at home, with a large corner step-up whirlpool tub, separate shower, double vanity, and a little separated area with the toilet and bidet. The walls and counter top were white marble, flecked with gold and black veins. Plush black and red striped towels were piled high in the corner of the vanity beside a giant white ceramic vase filled with a bouquet of red roses. Roses so red they were the colour of blood. Blood.

  Iciness flooded her veins at the memory of him drinking her blood. As she relieved herself her hand reached for the bite marks on her inner thigh and her other hand reached for her throat, where he’d also bit her. Both areas were lightly scabbed over.

  Kyla steepled her hands over her mouth and balanced her elbows on her knees as she sat on the toilet and again felt like her heart was in her throat. She let out a deep breath.

  What the heck do I do now?

  She heard a noise outside the door. She wiped with toilet tissue, jumped up, flushed the toilet, and turned the water on loudly. As she washed her hands she spotted her reflection in the mirror. Her big green eyes didn’t have the darkish rings around them that she had become accustomed to seeing. Her long dark curly hair was looking a bit wild, but her cheeks were pink and rosy. Her skin was moist and dewy looking. Two orgasms. Two orgasms that rendered every so-called orgasm she’d had before them utterly inconsequential. She shuddered, feeling heat rise in her face. She bit down on her bottom lip and then shook off the trance and splashed cold water over her face.

  “Kyla?” She knew that caramel-smooth voice already. It was him, outside the door. She felt her nipples tingle in response to his voice. Her brows furrowed at that reaction and fear spiked. What now?