Page 116 of The Ghost and the Graveyard (Knight Games 1)
Heart pounding, I crawled off him to the end of the bed. He tried to follow, but I had other things in mind. I liked control, and today I would have it. Arms shot out of the bed and gripped him to the duvet. Twelve of them. All mine, of course-echoes of my own. I crawled to the end of the bed and watched my magic at work. My echo hands grabbed handfuls of his shiny red matador outfit and, at my command, ripped it off and cast it aside. He tried to reach for me, but my magic was stronger than him here, and I was enjoying every second of this game.
"Mmmm. What shall I do with you now that I've caught you?" I whispered. The candles blazed higher, fed by my lust.
Languorously, I worked my real hands up his legs from his feet, dipping down to lick his inner thigh. He growled. Power, so thick it was like we were under water, filled me and connected us as it had before. Every kiss, every caress registered in my body as if it were done to me. I lapped up his hard shaft, toying with the heavy weights at the base. I circled the tip with my tongue, then sucked harder, taking him deep into my throat.
He moaned and arched into me.
I released him slowly from my mouth as I prowled up his body, brushing my breasts over the smooth expanse of his chest. My eyes caught on his scar. I'd put it there when I'd made him my caretaker. I traced my finger over it, noting that it no longer hurt for me to see it. Whatever magic unraveled within me had cured me of that malady. I raked my nails gently down his arms and flicked my tongue over his right nipple. His breath caught.
"Mi cielo, please. Please," he begged.
When I finally reached his mouth, I spilled my hair over my shoulder to keep it out of the way and allowed my lips to linger over his. With my nose and cheek, I traced the sharp line of his jaw, warm skin on skin. I ached to have him inside of me, but owning him like this was exquisite torture. I rolled my hips against him until he moaned my name, and I couldn't take it any longer. I positioned him at my entrance. My echo hands retreated into the bed as I lowered my hips.
Slowly. Slowly. I had to go slow or I feared he would split me open. Truly though, the pleasure was unbelievable. I felt my own but then I felt his as well. Up and down, I worked him into me inch by throbbing inch. He held himself back, patiently waiting for me to get comfortable with his size. But once he was completely in me, he began moving, kissing me, my neck, my ear, rubbing his hands down the length of my body.
Then he flipped me up. It was effortless, like I weighed nothing. He folded his lower legs under and rose to a kneeling position on the bed, grabbing me under my butt, so we were chest to chest and hip to hip. In this position, he was so deep it was almost painful. He thrust into me, worked his hand up my stomach, cradled my breast. I arched backward, and he sucked my nipple. The rhythm of our bodies caused the pleasure to build, greater and greater until I was at the edge.
"Mi cielo," he moaned, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. The words echoed warm and sweet inside my head. "It's time. Pick up your blade."
I did as he said, and it did not burn my hand. I allowed him to guide the blade to the right side of his neck and pressed the sharp bone into his flesh. Just as the orgasm overcame me, he moved my hand, slicing open the skin over his jugular. His other hand palmed the back of my head, pulling my mouth to the wound.
The thought of drinking blood had never intrigued me before, but Rick's blood was liquid orgasm. Pleasure flowed from my lips to my toes. I rolled with it, coming again and again. His release mirrored my own, and I milked Rick of what he pumped into me as the warm blood coated my throat. The power bound us together, made each orgasm feed the next.
His teeth sank into my neck and shoulder, a wide bite that drew blood but wasn't painful. My flesh moved aside to allow him access. Warm and wet, blood dripped down my back, washed into his mouth. I sucked from Rick while he drank from me, pleasing each other in every possible way.
I was vaguely aware of a wind circling us, stirring up the sand in the arena, gentle at first but then with a terrible force. We were in the eye of a hurricane, a cyclone of power.
Time stopped. I raised my head. A trail of Rick's blood dripped from the corner of my mouth to my chin. I wiped it away with the back of my hand. The grains of sand from the arena hovered like static in the air. Rick was motionless at my neck. The candles were frozen mid-flicker. Everything had stopped but me.
"What the fuck?" I said, watching as the ceiling opened up above me.
A ball of light appeared and plowed into my chest with such force, it took my breath away. I gasped, and time knocked back into its flow. The sand fell and so did we, onto the bed.
Panting and spent, Rick pulled out of me, rolling to his side and wrapping me within a cocoon of his body. He burrowed his face into the back of my hair. "I love you," he said into my ear.
I wanted to respond in kind. I wanted to say I loved him too. At that moment, I even felt like I did. But I wasn't sure if it was the magic or the memories or the fantastic sex. So I didn't say it. He didn't press for a response. He held me until it was obvious that we had to get back to business if we wanted to have any hope of saving Michelle.
But I found myself longing for five more minutes in his arms.
I Perform My First Exorcism
I willed the arena to dissolve into the attic's sanded wood floor, and Rick left to check on Marcus/Michelle. That's when Logan returned. For a long time, he stared at me with the hollow expression of someone who'd completely lost hope. My heart broke to see him like this, and I opened my mouth to say something, anything to comfort him.
He cut me off. "Not now, Grateful. You're running out of darkness. Save your friend." He glanced toward the Book of Light.
I walked over to the tome and used two hands to open it. In my last lifetime, I must have been a freak about organization. It was tabbed like an encyclopedia. Exorcism-Vampires in the E section right after Exorcism-General and right before Exorcism-Wraiths.
The spell seemed simple enough. Forcing the vamp out was the easy part. Keeping him out was the greater challenge. A puree of honey, sage, and lemon balm had to be poured over the victim. The concoction acted as a one-way membrane to keep the vampire out of the victim's body. Salt, sprinkled in a ring around Michelle and me would act as a boundary to contain the vamp once released.
"Logan, can you make this puree for me? You're the best with the food processor." Anything to get him to stop staring at me like I'd killed his puppy.
He nodded and disappeared. A moment later I heard cabinet doors open in the kitchen and the scrape of the food processor being loaded onto the kitchen island.
Rick returned, grimacing in the direction of the sound, like Logan was a rodent in the walls. I shook my head. I had other problems.
"We can't leave Michelle in the bindings. Marcus has to be able to get out during the spell. But if we take the ropes off, he could attack me, using Michelle's body. You'll have to hold her down."
"I can't," he said, matter-of-factly. "I'll upset the balance of power within the ring."
