Blurred Memories

  Blurred Memories

  Kallysten

  After months of trying to find again their place in each other’s lives, Blake, his Sire Marc and their human lover Kate are going back to the fight against demons… but is Blake ready?

  His time in a cell in the demon dimension left him with physical and mental wounds, and while the first healed without leaving a mark, the latter still cripple him at times, plunging him into nightmares until he can’t differentiate between horrific memories and a present in which his lovers tiptoe around him to avoid causing him more pain.

  When Kate can’t stand the status quo anymore and risks pushing at the walls behind which Blake hides, things seem to take a turn for the best. Marc, however, decides to make up for his failure to rescue Blake from the demons with a bold move that could start the nightmare all over again… or bring this trio together, closer than ever before.

  ~~~

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Fangs & Lullabies

  About the author

  Also available

  ~~~

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2012 Kallysten

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written consent of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  The right of Kallysten to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  First Published 2012

  All characters in this publication are purely fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Edited by Mary S.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ~~~

  Chapter 1

  Taking that first thrust slowly was excruciating, and Blake’s fingers dug a little deeper where they held Marc’s thighs up.

  A groan, more from pain than pleasure, and Blake instantly stilled and started to move back, even if all he wanted was to push his cock deeper into Marc’s tight ass. He should have kept looking for that damn lube; it had to be somewhere around, probably under the bed. At the very least he should have stretched Marc for more than a few seconds. But he had wanted in so very badly…

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Marc growled, flashing him an annoyed glare.

  Blake stopped pulling back. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who wanted it that much. And if Marc didn’t mind a little discomfort, who was Blake to protest?

  He didn’t want to simply shove himself in and use the blood to ease his cock’s way. Marc didn’t mind that either, but Blake had tried once a couple of weeks earlier, and had quickly found out that he couldn’t. Not without summoning some less-than-pleasant memories. He wasn’t going to repeat that mistake twice, especially when Kate wasn’t in the house and ready to help. He wasn’t even going to think about it. It was completely absurd and embarrassing for a vampire to panic at the sight of blood. Marc and Kate had been confused at first, as though they didn’t understand what had set off Blake this time. And then—

  But Blake was not thinking about that. Not at all. No thinking now, none whatsoever, just feeling the overwhelming tightness around him as, with slow rocking motions, he eased his way deeper. His gaze remained glued to Marc’s face, looking for those small traces of strain that would signify pain.

  Frustration rather than pain sounded in Marc’s voice when he said, “Blake, you’re killing me! Will you get on with it already?”

  Gritting his teeth, Blake pushed a little harder, wishing pain weren’t just as forbidden as blood. He felt a barely controllable urge to hurt Marc. The idiot couldn’t stop trying to get his way even when he was bottoming. He was the Sire, all right, and Blake his Childe, and they were both more used to things happening the other way around, but if Marc would only let Blake do as he pleased—

  “Yes.”

  Blake was barely aware of the sound passing his lips and stretching in the silence, like a bird taking flight and hovering above them. All he knew was that, at last, he was buried inside Marc, his balls pressed tight against Marc’s ass, and God, it was good. Now if only he could make this last…

  The friction as he pulled out almost completely was incredible; it was as though Marc’s body didn’t want to let him go. Thrusting back in was a little easier, only barely at first, then increasingly so, allowing Blake to move faster, although not nearly as fast as he would have wanted. Marc was bucking underneath him, encouraging him, arching into him and squeezing around his cock. Blake could have closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation a little more, but that would have robbed him of the sight in front of him. And what a sight it was.

  In the muted light of the bedroom, Marc’s body was a study of changing shadows as he moved with each of Blake’s thrusts, muscles rippling lightly, his face darkened by long bangs that needed to be cut. His hand stroked his dick to the same rhythm of Blake’s thrusts into him. He threw his head back onto the pillow as Blake’s cock brushed that spot, bit down on a groan—and Blake made a point to shift his hips just so to rub against Marc’s prostate again, and again, until Marc couldn’t hold back the sound anymore. It always surprised Blake a little to hear Marc moan and whimper because of him; it surprised him and turned him on even more, if that were possible.

  Blake let Marc’s legs drop on each side of him onto the pale sheets, where memories from past romps forever stained the fabric, and leaned on one elbow, changing his angle as he picked up speed and replaced Marc’s hand with his own. Marc’s cock was steel and silk melded into one, made slippery by the precome that trickled from the tip. The musky smell of it caused Blake to salivate, and he couldn’t wait to taste it, later.

  There was no more holding back now, no way to hold back, not when the vampire part of Blake was taking over and demanded that he make Marc cry out again, a little louder this time. It demanded that he take what was offered to him and shove a little harder, a little deeper, make Marc his own. Claim his Sire with his come and scent, the way no Childe was supposed to. The simple fact that Marc allowed Blake to do this to him, to his body, was half the thrill.

  Pleasure struck him as unexpectedly as lightning. Blake had the presence of mind to tighten his hand at the base of Marc’s cock, preventing him from coming, before pure instinct made him thrust a few last times, hard and fast as his orgasm ran through him.

  Marc made some sputtering noises—there might have been a ‘bastard’ or two in there—at having been denied his own bliss. But when Blake reluctantly slid out of his ass
and down the bed, low enough to take Marc’s cock in his mouth, the protests stopped and the appreciative groans returned. Marc tried to push more deeply into Blake’s mouth, but Blake drew back, warning him with a hand on his hip not to move. When Marc complied, Blake sank back down, taking that lovely, ready-to-burst cock as far as he could and swallowing once, twice, before Marc babbled his name and came hard. Blake pulled back to catch the flavor on his tongue, bittersweet and more heady than the finest wine.

  He continued to suck gently until Marc had grown completely soft in his mouth. He then switched to long, broad swipes of his tongue, knowing from experience that it wouldn’t take long before Marc was ready for round two. Kate had said she wouldn’t take long; she might even return in time to join them.

  * * * *

  Sated and a little sore, Marc was trying to shift his brain into gear again. Blake seemed to have the uncanny ability to make him forget how to articulate words. Or maybe not words: simple words, like ‘yes,’ ‘there,’ ‘Blake,’ and the like were always all too easy to cry out. Sentences, though, required a little more work, even now that he and Blake were lying down, their bodies pressed alongside each other.

  Blake had turned off the bedside lamp, and Marc allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness before he shifted and turned to look at him.

  Thought process was back, and so was the question he had tried to ask all night but hadn’t managed to wedge into the conversation at the pub, let alone after when they had come back home and gone straight to bed without waiting for Kate. Marc had asked her if she minded staying out with Simon a little longer. She had been reluctant—she always was reluctant about being away from Blake these days—but the separation, as brief as it was, would be good for all of them. Besides, she needed to talk to Simon and get a firm answer out of him, the same way Marc needed an answer from Blake. But he needed more than Blake’s words. His reaction, even his scent, might be more truthful.

  “Are you still okay with leaving tomorrow?”

  Blake answered after a moment of silence, his voice filled with high-pitched annoyance. “I’m the one who suggested we go back, wasn’t I?”

  Marc reached over and flicked the bedside light on. He needed all the help he could get. Blake’s features showed no expression whatsoever. It was something Marc wasn’t getting used to, and he doubted he ever would.

  Blake had once been utterly unable to hide his feelings—not that he would have bothered to even try. He had proclaimed them for the world to see with the turn of his lips or the depth of a frown. Now however, more and more often it sometimes seemed, Marc found himself incapable of reading Blake’s thoughts from his expression. Decades in hell—because in Marc’s mind, the demon dimension was the worst hell he could imagine—had taught Blake to hide his emotions. After a few months, though, Marc had learned that the blank looks usually meant nothing good; bad dreams and worse memories were never far. And this time he thought he knew what was going on in Blake’s head.

  “No one would think any less of you if you changed your mind.”

  He didn’t mention names, but judging by Blake’s reaction, Marc might as well have said it plainly. Kate would understand if they didn’t join this particular battle. There were still many breaches to close, many fights to come, and no rush for them to return to it all.

  “Damn it, Marc!”

  In one angry motion, Blake was out of bed and pacing through the small bedroom.

  “I want to go! I want to fight! What language do I have to say it in so that it’ll get through that thick skull of yours?”

  Marc sighed. Back to insults. Blake was predictable sometimes. Too predictable. It sounded as though he were reciting the lines he thought Marc expected.

  “I was just saying you have a right to stay out of it,” he pointed out. “I don’t want you to feel like it’s something you have to do.”

  Blake snorted, and his voice dropped in volume and took a bitter tone. “Yeah, right. I can just stay here while you take Kate under your arm and go check on your other Childe, and then you three can get all the fighting fun.”

  Marc sat up and continued to observe Blake. He was still pacing like a caged feline, giving the impression of a restrained force ready to burst out. He was still expressionless. The only change was that now he was trembling, and Marc grimaced at that realization. Blake had seemed to be doing so well; what was putting him so much on edge?

  “You’re not staying alone,” Marc said gruffly. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

  Blake paused in his nervous pacing and looked at Marc; he didn’t flinch. That, at least, was progress. Marc knew his eyes had to be golden with how annoyed—how worried—he was. The sight of Marc’s anger used to make the fear peak instantly in Blake’s scent.

  “What about Daniel?” Blake insisted. “What about Kate?”

  It sounded too much like a ultimatum: choose between Daniel and Kate or Blake. Marc had wanted to see Daniel and check on him for a while now, and both he and Blake would miss Kate if she left without them. But neither thing truly mattered, not in the face of this simple fact: Daniel and Kate were fine, but Blake was far from healed. His body had long since recovered from the ordeal of his captivity in the demon dimension, but his mind still saw pain when he looked at Marc. It happened less often, or maybe Blake was becoming better at hiding it, but Marc knew it wasn’t over.

  “Kate’s a big girl,” Marc finally replied. “She will go if she must, and come back to us when she can. And Daniel’s fine without me.” He left out the ‘you’re not’ that would have pissed off Blake, even more so because it was true. “Now, are you coming to bed or what? Kate will be back soon, and if she sees you pacing, you know what she’ll think.”

  Blake raked his fingers through his hair before slipping into bed with his back to Marc. “Yeah, we better catch some sleep,” he muttered. He started reaching to turn off the light, but seemed to change his mind and left it on. “Long drive ahead of us tomorrow night.”

  Marc didn’t reply, but rolled his eyes at the back of Blake’s head. Typical Blake, to push to see how far Marc would go, and then backpedal once he had his answer. It didn’t matter, though. Not as long as Blake wasn’t shaking anymore.

  Marc wasn’t really tired, and for a long time he simply lay there, listening to the silence broken every now and then by Blake taking in a random breath. He planned out what he needed to do before they left the house where they had taken Blake to recover. He’d need to drop by the butcher to stop the blood deliveries and get supplies for the trip. He’d pay his running tab at the local pub, too. The home-brewed beer was terrible, at least as far as he was concerned, but it wasn’t rationed, unlike in cities that were under direct siege from demons. He’d pack a travel bag and remind Blake to do the same. He trusted Kate not to need such a reminder.

  Kate still hadn’t returned when Marc realized something was off. Blake’s breathing was not random anymore, but regular and gradually becoming faster, shallower. That, and the faint thread of fear rising in his scent hinted at what was happening, and Marc wasn’t surprised that Blake was having yet another nightmare. Ever since Blake had suggested they return to the squad, the nightmares had become more frequent. Blake refused to acknowledge them, of course, pretending everything was fine if Marc or Kate raised the subject, but they both knew what was going on. They didn’t know what form the nightmares took, though. They had never discussed it, but Marc could guess, and he knew Kate must have, too. Marc would have bet his fangs they were both the stars of Blake’s bad dreams.

  Kate had never been held by demons the way Blake had, but Blake’s memories claimed otherwise, and he had been very protective of her for the past few months. That was another thing none of them had ever commented on, but Blake always did his best not to leave Marc and Kate alone if he could avoid it. He knew Marc had never hurt her, just as he knew Marc hadn’t been the one who had tortured him, but knowing so was one thing; letting go of his fears was something entirely diffe
rent.

  Marc’s only hope was that once they returned to the fight, Blake would be able to exorcize some of his memories by killing demons.

  His hand closed around Blake’s arm, holding tight. Blake let out a small whimper in his sleep.

  “Wake up, Blake,” Marc said, trying to make the words less of an order and more of a suggestion. “It’s just a night—”

  “Don’t say that word,” came the slightly shaky reply as Blake tensed and tried to shake off Marc’s hand.

  Marc didn’t let go; he had learned the hard way not to let Blake go before making sure that he was completely awake. He had also learned not to keep anything that could be fashioned into a stake in the bedroom.

  “Fine, what do you want me to call it?”

  Slowly, Blake stopped fighting Marc’s grip and relaxed again, rolling onto his back. He didn’t answer Marc’s question.

  “They’re getting worse, aren’t they?” Marc asked after a moment, finally releasing Blake’s arm. Again, there was no answer; he hadn’t expected one.

  By the time Kate came back, Blake was asleep again. She undressed quietly, slipped on a nightshirt, and turned off the light. She climbed into bed on Blake’s other side to curl up against him as she did most nights, and as always she reached around Blake for Marc. He took her hand and squeezed it gently before entwining their fingers. It wasn’t long before the regular rhythm of her breathing announced that she, too, had drifted into sleep.

  Marc remained awake long after sunrise, ready to fight off memories and illusions, or whatever Blake wanted to call them, if they surfaced again; determined to protect his lovers from more heartache in any way he possibly could.