Blurred Bloodlines [2nd in Blurred Trilogy] Page 27

  Strong, slow thrusts alternated with faster, shallow ones, hard tugs and almost tender caresses, so that with each passing second Marc didn't know whether to shift back toward Blake and push him farther inside, or arch into Blake's hand and come that much closer to release. The result was a messy, ungraceful rutting, but Marc didn't care, not anymore, not when all it would take now was Blake nudging that spot just one more time, or squeezing the head of his cock just so, or anything else, really. So soon after he had made love to Kate, every added sensation was just too much to allow him to last long.

  At a sharper thrust from Blake, the overflow of sensations caused Marc to groan. Kate's mouth was against his again almost at once. She lay down on her side next to him, held his gaze and smiled as her hand joined Blake's on his cock, her nails pressing in beneath the crown the way she had long ago figured out he enjoyed.

  Surprise made Marc cry out. The next instant, his orgasm tore through him, and he struggled to keep up despite his buckling knees, even more so when he could feel Blake shaking as he thrust in twice more, hard and deep, and finally coming with what Marc could have sworn was a breathless sigh of his name. He knew better than that, though.

  Marc let himself slide down. He couldn't have cared less if his stomach was pressed into the come that stained the sheets, not when Blake's scent, as he slipped out of Marc and let Kate's hands draw him between them, was pure contentment.

  Marc didn't delude himself into thinking that when morning came, Blake would be his old self again and everything would be back to normal. But he thought that, maybe, the three of them, together, had just taken the first step toward a semblance of normality.

  The world was soft lines and cotton fuzziness. Blake wasn't used to softness anymore. It felt strange, like a taste on the back of his tongue he didn't quite remember but hadn't completely forgotten, either.

  He kept drifting in and out of consciousness, never completely asleep, but never fully awake. Every few minutes, a jolt would stop him from fully letting go of wakefulness and make him aware again of the warm body pressed against his, all soft curves and silky flesh. And every time he marveled at finding Kate in his arms, he would realize that her hands weren't the only ones slowly stroking his arm and side. Marc lay behind him, his chest to Blake's back, and Blake kept expecting the fear to surface again. It never did, and that was as startling to him as Kate's presence.

  His mind was bursting with images and feelings, some real, some manufactured, and he wished he could speak to let them out. He still didn't have his voice back, though, and he almost wished he could trade his healed hands to recover his voice, to be able to tell them...

  He wasn't sure where he would start. Words of love seemed less than adequate after what they had shared, and so did thank-yous.

  When Kate's hand glided over Blake's arm and shoulder and came to rest on his cheek, her thumb brushing against his mouth, Blake pursed his lips and kissed it lightly. She smiled and said his name before leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. Blake mouthed her name. Only when her eyes widened in surprise did he realize a raspy whisper had come out of his throat, barely recognizable as a word at all, let alone her name.

  Frowning slightly as he focused on what he wanted the whisper to sound like, he tried again. It was better this time, even if his throat hurt a little, but not good enough yet. The third time, it actually sounded like her name, and a mix of pride and giddiness surged through Blake. She kissed him again, her lips curved into a wide smile now, the salty smell of tears just hanging on the air. At the same time, a second pair of lips pressed to the back of his neck, a gentle kiss that was barely there at all.

  Blake shifted between the two bodies pressed so tightly against him and rolled onto his back. Dark eyes peered down at him, and Blake opened his mouth to say—

  Say what, he wondered, suddenly hesitating. The first thing that had come to his mind was ‘Master,’ but another part of him claimed that ‘Marc’ was the right word. Unable to pick between them, Blake compromised, and pushed a third choice through a throat that now felt like it was burning.

  "Sire."

  Marc—yes, Marc, that would have been the correct name, like Sire was the correct title—kissed him like Kate had, just as gently, with just an edge of gratefulness clinging to his lips.

  Cradled between the two of them, Blake closed his eyes at last, and finally allowed himself to drift toward sleep. Somehow, he already knew that there would be no nightmares this time; they would be kept at bay by the two sets of arms holding him tight. His last thought was that, as long as the three of them remained together, everything would soon get better.

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  Coming Soon in Blurred Memories

  Marc was gone.

  Marc, or his Master?

  It didn't matter. He was gone. He had abandoned Blake. And as Blake tried to understand why, more and more reasons kept being added to the list. He had done everything wrong. He had broken more rules than he would ever have thought possible. It was a wonder Marc hadn't left earlier. A wonder that he hadn't disciplined Blake long before now. Had it been a test, maybe? Had he let Blake do as he pleased to see exactly how badly he would behave? If it had been a test, Blake had undoubtedly failed. And that was why Marc was gone.

  Why he wouldn't be back.

  Would he?

  "Come on, Blake. You're hurting yourself again. Stop it."

  A hand curled around his wrist and pulled his fingers away from his thigh. He looked down, and blinked when he saw the blood that covered the tingling skin that obscured his tattoo. The same blood stained his fingers. Kate's hand was clean, though. Clean and tight over his wrist, holding him safe. His Master was gone, but she was there. Was she part of the test? Was their Master watching, somehow? He always seemed to know whatever happened in Blake's cell. Would the punishment be even worse if Blake listened to her or let her touch him?

  Instinctively, he scrambled away from where she was sitting on the floor next to him. She looked pained, but she had to understand that he was only moving back to protect her. Surely, she could understand as much. She had been hurt often enough for being kind to him to remember...

  He blinked, and for a brief moment, he could see the flaws in his own thinking, could see he wasn't making much sense at all, not about Kate, and certainly not about Marc. Every time the tattoo tingled, his mind lost its clarity, and illusions and nightmares tried to take him over again. He opened his mouth, but already his awareness was fading in light of the overwhelming certitude that things were wrong, completely and utterly wrong, and there would be blood and tears and pain to pay for the wrongness of it all. There always was.

  He rose to his feet and started moving away from her again, but a noise behind him drew his attention, and he turned at once, eyes open wide and lips ready to beg for his Master's forgiveness, for Marc's return. But the man he expected to see wasn't there, and instead, it was another man standing by the door. Another vampire. Another of Marc's Childer. If Blake breathed in deeply, he could smell just a hint of their Sire on him.

  "Where's Marc?” Kate said, coming to Daniel even as Blake wondered whether to get closer to him or retreat farther into a corner. “Was Jen there?"

  "She was. And I tried to talk him out of it, but...” Daniel sighed, and something deep inside Blake howled in despair. “He left with her."

  Kate made some kind of protest at that, but Blake barely heard her, focused as he was on what Daniel had just said. Marc... his Master was betraying them to join the demons. He was going to join the same people who had tortured Blake for centuries.

  And then what? What would happen next? Would he be back for Blake? Would it be worse than before? Would the past seem like a walk in a park compared to what his Master was planning?

  The answer to that was simple and illuminating. Blake needed help. He needed protection. He needed someone who would intervene for him before Marc. And who better for that than Marc's Childe? A man who had sol
diers and mages under his command?

  Making an effort to concentrate on what Daniel and Kate were saying again, Blake caught the end of a sentence.

  "—mind staying with him for a minute?” she was saying. “I want to get some blood and see if feeding will help him."

  Good. Very good. She was stepping out. That meant he would be alone with Daniel. Better if they were alone. Better if she didn't see. She always cried when she saw Blake—

  Pushing the memory away, Blake clutched at his shirt, and when his hands trembled too much to allow him to undo the buttons, he simply tore it off before getting rid of his t-shirt, too.

  "What are you doing?” Daniel asked immediately. His voice held a thread of disapproval, and by pure instinct Blake dropped to his knees. He couldn't have disapproval. He needed protection. He needed to be good. He needed to show Daniel just how good he was, so that Daniel would tell their Sire, and Marc wouldn't hurt Blake too much when he returned.

  If he returned.

  Panic tried to sink in again, but Blake held it at bay as he advanced toward Daniel, head bowed, until his forehead was touching the floor in front of Daniel's feet.

  "I will be good,” he said as quietly as he could, knowing that by simply speaking he was breaking the rules but needing to say something. “Will you tell him I will be good? I will do everything he says. Be a good boy. I promise."

  Without daring to look up at his face, Blake reached toward the fastenings of Daniel's pants. Family. They were both Marc's Childer, surely it was alright to show him—

  "Blake! Stop it! What on earth do you think you're doing?"

  Hands dropping instantly at the shout so that he could cover his head with his arms, Blake waited for the blows to start falling. There would be even more of them for his attempt at protecting himself, but he couldn't help the defensive response.

  "What's going on here?"

  If anything, Kate's return made Blake want to hide even more. Daniel didn't want him; would he punish her for Blake's mistake? Would he take her away, and leave Blake all alone once more? As alone as he had been after they had shut him in that box, left in there for days, and only let out to confront his guilt and pain every time he laid eyes on Kate.

  Until Marc had come for him. Until he had taken Blake away.

  And Marc had come when Blake had called him. It was easy to call. The thread was like a shining beacon in Blake's mind, all he needed was to take hold of it and pull, tug, cry out for help, and his Sire would hear.

  He would hear, but would he come? He had gone to Jen before. He had abandoned Blake and only returned after years had passed, after he had figured out that she was a traitor. This time, Marc had known when he had gone to her. This time, he was a traitor, too. Would he ever return?

  The first tentative touch of a hand on his bare back made him start shaking, and once again he expected the pain to start. But the warm hand remained gentle, and stroked him calmly, gently, in the same rhythm as the quiet words that fell on him like feathers and snowflakes.

  They were words Marc had repeated to him too many times to count, and maybe because they were so familiar, they were easy to listen to, easy to accept, even if it was Kate voicing them. Even if she was in just as much danger as Blake.

  "You're safe,” she repeated, over and over. “I promise, Blake, nothing will happen to you. You're safe."

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  About the Author:

  Kallysten's most exciting accomplishment to date was to cross a few thousand miles and an ocean to pursue (and catch!) the love of her life. She has been writing for fifteen years, and always enjoyed sharing her stories and listening to the readers’ reactions. After playing with science fiction, short stories, poetry and fanfiction, she is now trying her hand, heart and words at paranormal romance novels.

  To see her other stories, visit: original.kallysten.net

  Other stories available from Alinar Publishing:

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  Carte Blanche

  When a lobbyist opposed to vampires’ rights is found drained of her blood, Special Enforcer Grace Alkins investigates the woman's connection to a local BDSM club and its vampire customers. It has been a long time since Grace played on this particular scene, but old habits return easily when she puts on the attire of Mistress Red.

  On her first undercover visit at the club, however, she finds herself tricked into playing a scene with Ray, a submissive whose Master left town abruptly. The Dominant in her enjoys the opportunity—while the Special Enforcer is shocked to realize Ray is a vampire, and possibly a suspect for the murder she investigates.

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