I kissed her ravenously. My hands found the soft warmth of her stomach and pushed her shirt up. I struggled with her bra, which drew a laugh from her.
“I guess these are different than the last time you had to unhook one,” she said, reaching back to help undo the clasp for me.
It fell to the ground between us and I took a handful of her breast, feeling her nipple harden instantly against my palm.
I pushed my hand down the front of her jeans and inside her panties. She was wet. She was soaked, and my cock was stiff within moments. I slid my finger inside her, using my palm to circle her clit while my fingers glided in and out of her.
She arched her back into me, rolling her head back and exposing her neck.
I stared at the flesh there while she gripped my finger with her walls and rhythmically ground her hips into me. One of her hands had drifted to my cock, which she was rubbing through my pants in clumsy but hungry movements.
The vein in her neck thumped subtly against her skin, reminding me how hungry I still was. I closed my eyes, kissing her there to prove to myself I was above my desires. I wasn’t ruled by them.
“Oh, God, Lucian,” she gasped into my ear.
Her body thudded against the door as she shook with an orgasm. I felt her warm entrance tense and grip my fingers as she came, her whole body vibrating for the first few seconds of it.
She took my cock in a death grip, which I wasn’t sure I would survive.
I held my breath, riding out her orgasm until she finally loosened her grip on me.
I grinned down at her, planting a kiss on her full lips. “We shouldn’t make a habit of this.”
“Why not?” Cara asked. She looked achingly beautiful. Her face was flushed, and her hair was just messy enough to make it clear what we’d been doing. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, and her lips were parted.
“Because it can’t last. And we’re playing with fire—doing this.”
She shook her head. “You keep talking like you can get rid of me. What if I refuse to let you go?”
I smiled, feeling a pang of sadness inside me. Then I’ll still have to go, but it’ll just hurt both of us that much more. “We should get you to class.”
I lifted up her bra from the ground and handed it to her with a half smile. “I’m going to need you to put those beautiful breasts back in their holsters before your classmates get any ideas.”
Cara tauntingly lifted her shirt, flashing me with a view of her chest that made me rethink everything for a heartbeat. It made me want to rip her pants down and free my cock, to—
I blinked, forcing myself to focus. What mattered was keeping her safe. Nothing else.
27
Lucian
The bond eventually weakened enough that Cara and I could separate for a few hours at a time. It was still difficult, but if I waited until she was sleeping at night to go out, she could mostly sleep through the cravings for closeness. I knew Bennigan couldn’t strike at her during the day, so I was also able to let her get back to some degree of normalcy in her life. I’d asked Zack and Mooney to keep an extra close eye on her while I rested, which they’d eagerly agreed to.
On my first few nights of separation, I hadn’t dared travel too far from her. I mostly lurked around outside her apartment, testing the limits of the bond and ensuring Bennigan or his harem weren’t lurking nearby, waiting to strike the moment I left.
After I’d become reasonably certain it was safe, I started a methodical search of the city for information. I was able to investigate some of the more dangerous contacts I had, knowing I didn’t need to drag Cara along to the meetings anymore.
I met Vlad outside a place called Head Fangers, which was a sort of hardcore music scene for vampires. Of course, the sign outside claimed the place was a mattress store. My kind had discovered a very long time ago that mattress stores were the perfect front for any kind of vampire hangout. All that was needed was a human or two to appear to run the place and a healthy dose of daily memory wiping. Other than that, the average human seemed to think it was perfectly normal for several mattress stores that never had any customers to exist on the same street.
Vlad had his curly hair slicked back and he was actually wearing a nice—albeit ancient—set of embroidered finery. He shook out the ruffles on his sleeves and checked his collar. “How do I look?” he asked.
“Like a greased pig,” I said.