Hellfire

Chapter Thirteen

I woke with a jolt, scrabbling onto my knees on my bed, breath frantic and my body terribly hot in a lusting way. My mind was whirling from a dream. It had felt real. Very real. My skin grew flushed at the memory of it, an aching fire beginning to arc; his fierce kiss, all ice and warmth, his hand between my legs, fingers exploring so possessively I couldn't think, his mouth on my breast, teeth in my skin, drinking from me as I drowned in pleasure.

The pinprick on my throat throbbed with an ache for him, making my palm rub it madly to make it go away.

And then another throbbed at my breast.

I froze, my heart stilling, then looked frantically down as my breasts cupped in the black lace of my more expensive bra. There, like two little bruises glaring accusingly and dipped slightly into the valley, were pinpricks. I knew those pinpricks. I had them on my throat, marks of Lucius' feeds he'd never fully heal.

Everything rushed forward. The dream became less foggy, the haze of drink and venom clearing, and I realised with dread I hadn't made it up. That had happened; his mouth drinking from my breast, his hand between my legs languidly stamping his claim over me.

That dream had been real.

My mind died. Dread was choking me. Dread and embarrassment and pleasure and fury. I didn't know what to think or feel, but all I knew it was bad, each one a little keg of gunpowder and too intense for me to control. I gripped my chest as my hellfire surged, rushing against my lock as emotions ran rampant, wild and hot and dangerous. I hurriedly flung myself from the bed, sprinting to my bathroom to fling myself on the floor, spreading its cold against my skin as flames flickered and ash rushed into my lungs.

Stay calm, Susan, I thought to myself and grit my teeth. You're a woman. A woman. Not fire.

I counted slowly, breathing as I furiously swept those dangerous feelings up. Each one fuel to my fire, a need to preserve myself. I could feel it rushing into my blood, fury thickening over the embarrassment running through me. Dread Lucius now knew my thoughts of him. Thoughts that would ruin my position by his side and lessen myself in his eyes.

'What do I do?' I demanded of myself, furious flames on my tongue.

You'll be fine, Susan. You just do as you always do. Your pride gets you through everything. Just get up and get on with it.

That settled my panic some. It had just been a feed that got a little out of control, that was all. I'm sure other feeds with other women had gone this way too sometimes. Lucius may be a cold man, but that didn't make him sexless. I was just drugged up on venom and drunk on rum, my mind weakened by the Beaumonts digging about in my head. Lucius wouldn't think any of it, either his role on the feed or that I'd encouraged it. Neither of us would acknowledge this. We'd move on and continue as we had. It's what we'd done when he'd kissed me during his atrophied state, how his feeds made me feel such raw pleasure. This was just another thing we'd never verbally admit happened, another thing brushed under the carpet. That was all. What mattered was I wasn't dead and he'd remained in control.

My hellfire settled as I slowly swept the emotions aside. Calm settled over me comfortingly. I no longer felt embarrassment, no longer plagued by fury or full of dread. It was just a sexual slip-up. Nothing had been said. No baring of emotions. And Lucius hadn't drained me of my blood. He'd been in control. Nothing bad had happened.

But I needed rules to protect myself, I realised. No kisses, no needless touching, just a quick bite. No more biting my breasts and slipping his hand between my legs. We could never lose control like that again. That just spelled death for me and, more importantly, Lucius.