The vampire had gone.
Ravin sat up in bed and stretched out her arms. Her legs
ached and her wrists were sore from Nikolaus pinning her down
as he’d slaked his lust. She hadn’t minded being pinned down.
In fact, it had turned her on more than she’d thought possible.
Most of her sexual encounters had been brief affairs with
near strangers. Not the kind of men who knew how to satisfy
a woman, much less care about her satisfaction.
After two centuries it now took a lot to impress her
sexually. She’d once chosen her lovers for their handsome appearance
and roguish manner, and then had graduated to
wealth and a certain unavailability that came from a married
man. Over the centuries, such vain, selfish requirements had
ceased to matter, and, not sure anymore what she needed, she
lately resorted to one-night stands. Quickies.
So why did she do it?
Contact. Validation. Every woman required connection, if
only for a few moments of bliss.
Sure, she’d had some great lovers in her history. Daniel had
been a printer who aspired to engrave monograms, but his eyesight
wouldn’t allow him to do the detail work. Hadn’t kept
him from learning her body with his lips, though.
Dominique San Juste, a faery changeling, never left her
memory. Unfortunately, he’d been more in love with absinthe,
and the memory of his dead wife, than Ravin. She hadn’t told
him about the pregnancy, a surprise to her at the time. There
had been no need to tell him.
The miscarriage brought up an awful longing. Ravin had
never considered herself maternal, but with a child in her belly,
she’d quickly taken to the prospect of becoming a mother.
She still didn’t know if it was because a faery and a witch
should not procreate, or if it had simply been her womb,
unable to carry to term.
Was it possible, after so long, that she may have finally
found a man who could satisfy her in every way?
She felt sated. Beyond satisfied. A slip of skin lying on the
sheets, empty and waiting to be filled again.
“Sex magic,” she suddenly said. Ravin sat up abruptly and
sat cross-legged on the sheets. “Blood sex magic.”
Her heart started to pound. She pressed a hand over her chest.
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”
It had always been mere legend to Ravin. Tales told and
passed down over the ages, from one witch to another. The history
of their kind. The reason why vampires and witches rubbed
