The Blood Moon

Precipice

"Wait, what does he mean by worship a woman?" I asked in what had to be the mental equivalent of shrill panic. "What are we about to witness?"

My past self stood tight and compact in the center of the study. Both my heart from my memories and my heart from the present, beat at a rapid pace, though I suspected they pounded at lightning speed for different reasons. The me that was viewing from the back of my head might have been terrified of what Hen was about to watch alongside me, but my past self's racing pulse was more due to giddy anticipation than fear.

"I, uh," murmured Hen like a distant echo, "would offer that you skip forward like you've done before..."

"Yes, let's do that," I exclaimed in my thoughts as Antonov sauntered up to my side with a bandage in hand. My past self stuck out the bloodied finger, which trembled as my breath quickened. A smirk graced the vampire's face as one of his hands took a gentle hold of my wrist. He then twisted my arm so my palm faced up. His thumb massaged the heel of my hand as his other hand placed the cotton pad of the bandage on to the small wound.

"But, I'm not sure you'll be able to," continued Hen as Antonov finished his work with the bandage and then sealed it with a light kiss upon the tip of my finger. "The closer we get to the origin of the curse, the harder it is for me to clear a path. You, uh, also have a lot of emotions bundled with this memory and that makes things hard to skip over. This isn't a moment your brain decided with worth discarding, like your walk through the woods by Moonshade. I just don't think this is one we can fast forward."

"But..."

Before I could voice my panic, Antonov moved his hand up so he could hug my shoulders. Then, with his other hand, he coaxed my chin up so I faced him in full.

"Oh, my dear sweet Delilah," he cooed, his breath tickling my cheek as his lips drew closer to mine, "though it will take every ounce of willpower to stop this old body of mine, if you say the word and I will immediately cease my worship of your succulent flesh."

"Oh," I exclaimed to myself, "maybe I'll stop him!" A wave of relief brushed my thoughts, but that did nothing to stop the me of the past from capturing Antonov's lips like I was drowning and he was my only source of air. "Um, maybe I'll stop him at, uh, some point."

"As much as I want to taste every inch of you," he said, pulling away with a lusty growl and a delighted smirk upon his lips. "I need you to acknowledge that you've heard me. You say 'prekrati' if you wish me to stop. Understood?"

"Understood," I purred, looking up at him with expectations swimming inside my wide eyes.

"Then, my goddess," he said, his words muffled as he planted a few heated kisses at the back of my jaw and just beneath my ear, "let's get started."

Next the world slipped away. Tightening his grip upon my shoulder, Antonov pulled me back as his other arm dipped to catch me from behind my knees. Lifting me up, he drew a line from the end of my jaw to the tip of my chin with a series of passionate kisses. I threw my arms around his neck as he snagged my bottom lip with the very front of his teeth. His bite was gentle enough not to draw blood, but hard enough to send a sizzle of pain mixed with excitement through my body.

He continued work upon my lips, teasing and sucking, while his tongue artfully engaged my more sloppy initiations. With mouths sealed and our breaths hot, he dropped down onto what I could only assume was his couch. My eyes were closed and my knowledge of the situation was reliant on the cascade of feelings and impressions that bombarded my meager defenses.

As I tried to concentrate on how his lips, now freed from mine, dotted my neck and investigated my collarbone, I nearly missed the sensation of his explorations around the southern half of my body. Though one of his hands remained on the back of my neck with fingers laced through my hair and his forearm supporting my slackened torso, the other hand had freed itself from beneath my legs and was now running slow laps up and down my thigh. First it traveled from my knee to the hem of my dress. Then it ran back to the knee, only to return again with the intentions of slipping beneath the garment. Before he managed to go an inch higher, he drew back once again and a longing moan escaped my throat. It was a noise foreign to my ears, but as I felt the waves of desire slamming into me, I found myself less and less eager to escape this memory.