“This is okay?” he asked, his mouth pressed to my ear.
I nodded, my throat too tight to offer a verbal response. I couldn’t deny the throbbing between my thighs, that I wanted him where he was, his body deliciously warm. His breath warmed my neck as he nudged against me, entering slowly, and his gentle kisses on my shoulder relaxed my nerves as he eased in deeper, slowing again at any small gasps that escaped my lips.
His heart thudded against my own as he pressed closer, his body rocked forward, and a soft moan rode my sigh as he moved his mouth to mine and deepened the kiss. The pressure of him inside of me created another kind a pressure—a building need for release. His fangs slowly extended and grazed my lip.
The importance of everything beforehand and everything ahead dissolved. I pushed my bottom lip against one of his fangs and winced as it pricked my flesh. My blood slipped between his lips and slid between our tongues as we kissed.
Charles pulled back, searching my eyes. We both knew even a small amount of my blood would strengthen him. He hadn’t had human blood in years, but he needed this.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, and he kissed me again, sucking gently on my lip.
The kiss tangled me in a web of arousal; my mind became lost, free, uninhibited. Our shallow breaths unified, our bodies bound together, the pressure building, stronger, more intense. Sinful. And yet, in that moment, all my guilt was stripped away.
I’d expect my first time to be awkward. Painful. With Charles, it was anything but. My body surrendered and waves of ecstasy stole away my conscious thoughts. All that remained was blissful nothingness—a sense of oneness with the man I loved and peace over all that lay ahead.
Charles propped on one elbow at my side, his hand drifting over my curves, and I studied his face unhurriedly, feature-by-feature, as if I hadn’t already memorized the lines of his face, his strong jaw line, the greenish hue of his chin stubble. As if I hadn’t already memorized the way his eyelashes crinkled together and the way his chest felt hard but still warm and welcoming beneath my hand.
He stroked the damp curls away from my face and kissed my brow, and I buried my head in the hollow between his neck and shoulders. We fit perfectly together.
I drifted between wisps of sleep for what felt like hours, though the clock indicated only minutes had passed. My heart sank. Time to leave these stolen moments behind. Our intimacy had resolved many of my unwanted emotions, but one still lingered: fear. Fear of losing Charles, of losing the one person I could be myself with completely. I breathed a sigh of resignation and stared up at him.
“Forever, Sophia,” he promised. “We’ll find a way.”
We showered and slipped into some fresh clothes, then dedicated the next few hours to working on my gift. Object manipulation became easier; items floated from one place in the room to another, some with little more than a quiet thought. A pillow. A chair. A table. Some of the larger items required more concentration, however, and the weight, shape, and size of the objects were definitely a factor.
The ultimate test was lifting a human body. Charles lay on the bed, and I focused on his form. Looking at him rekindled the passion inside me, strengthening me enough to lift him a foot from the mattress.
Perhaps my Wiccan training held truth after all: love was strong enough to ignite my powers.
Chapter 24
CHARLES AND I ARRIVED at the airport—a little gray slip of a building—at four in the morning. The circles under Charles’ eyes were almost purple-black, his eyes bloodshot, his hair unruly. He wore the same clothes as the night before, rumpled and unwashed.
As we passed the two check-in booths, my black dress and heavy makeup garnered a few odd stares. Adrian had suggested darkness would cloak me better outside the Maltorim’s asylum if I dressed in black. Only my full-length Gothic dress I’d worn as part of a Halloween costume several years ago had fit the bill. I’d also straightened my hair and smeared some heavy black make-up over my eyelids to disguise my appearance.
I still looked like me, but the changes might be enough to deter those who had only seen me a handful of times.
Or so I foolishly believed.
We followed a nearby hallway to a blue-framed window. Adrian had instructed us to tap once, wait, and tap again three more times. So I did.
A door opened further down the hall, and an older man with ruddy cheeks and a graying mountain-man beard waved us over. Once we entered the room, he eased the door shut.
“You the ones booking for Damascus?” He threw a narrow glance over his shoulder then turned to shuffle a mess of papers on his desk. “Thought there’d be three of ya.”
“Our friend will be here soon,” Charles said. “He needed to eat before the flight.”
The man huffed. “He ain’t no bloodsucker, is he? Cuz I don’t fly no bloodsuckers, that’s for damn sure.”