The Gates

11

BLOOD PRESSURE

Hidden underneath the sky’s black blanket and our cloak hoods, Gavin and I rushed up the hill toward the windmill door, quickly and quietly, hoping the blur of our bodies’ motions would go unnoticed. He secured the door behind us and set our lanterns down, his hands shaking slightly as he watched me unbutton my cloak. I let it slip to the ground, never taking my eyes from his, hearing his quick intake of breath when it hit the floor. The soft light of the lanterns flickered and cast warm, sultry shadows across his face, and a slight shiver rocked his chest as he moved to unbutton his own cloak. I’d have given anything to know what he was thinking at that exact moment, when his eyes darkened and he swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat. I’d have given anything to know what he liked and what he didn’t, what made him tick and what didn’t. He never discussed these things in detail with me. But now he was mine, and I finally had the chance to find out.

“You might want to put those out,” I breathed, nodding to the lanterns as I stepped backward to encourage him toward me, feeling my way across the windmill floor by gripping the diagonal wooden beams that swooped down from the round, vaulted ceiling.

“I want to see you.”

“The moonlight will be enough.” I pointed to the small window near the ceiling.

“Camille, I—”

“Don’t overthink it, Gavin. You won’t hurt me.” He would never be Andrew, the abusive man who came before him, and I wanted him to know that I knew that. He needed to know that when he touched me, I felt adored, loved, and respected.

“I promise I’ll be as gentle as you want me to,” he said, “I’ll do whatever you want—”

“Will you just get over here and touch me already? You won’t break me.”

His mouth fell open for a second and his demeanor suddenly changed, as if a swift, powerful wave crashed over him, washing his nervous features away, rolling and pressing them out until they softened underneath the surface. His posture became rigid and his stance predatory, his eyes holding mine like a hypnotic trance in the middle of its strongest thrall. With smooth ease, he slung his cloak over his arm to fold it, then lightly tossed it onto a stack of hay, moving to his wrists next to undo his cuffs. He began loosening and rolling up his sleeves; his blazing gaze sent goose bumps across the back of my neck. I found myself stepping even farther back when I saw his nerves replaced with confidence, nearly tripping over another heap of straw, my shoulders hunching as I retreated back into a demure shell. He looked as if he was about to pounce any second, and for the first time I felt … scared of him.

“‘Get over there?’ ‘Touch me?’” he said. “Mrs. Devereaux, you’re so demanding.” He cocked his head to the side playfully, still adjusting his sleeves. “I’ll show you I can be a good listener.”

I stood as still as possible, feeling less and less in control as he stalked toward me, his shoulders now relaxed, his fingers toying with his bowtie. An inviting smirk crept over his lips and his fingers began to unravel the tie, pulling softly at the edges to let it hang at his neck. Oh my. This is a side of him I could get used to. His smooth, animalistic movements made me tremble, and I couldn’t bring myself to pry my eyes from his. His smoldering chocolate eyes seared mine, his smirk widening.

“And you’re officially mine now, Camille. So there will be no holding back, just so we’re clear.”

He tilted his chin down and his stride remained a stealthy, slow crawl to close the gap between us. My breath wavered when he reached me, my body igniting with desire the second he trailed his fingers along the middle ridge of my corset, starting at the bottom near my navel. He dragged them upward, over the laces, toward my chest. Using two fingers to lightly pluck each string and loosen it as he worked his way up, he kept his body right in front of mine, barely touching, only hovering.

Tilting his head to place his lips below my ear, his scent moved in on my senses like a thick cloud of smoke, holding me hostage to its sensual attack. He hooked one index finger into the top of the corset binding and with one quick tug, jerked me toward him. I bravely moved my arm to rest on his chest and began undoing his shirt buttons to feel his skin, shuddering when he shifted his mouth to the side of my neck.

“I told you I won’t bite,” he snickered against my skin, wiggling his thumb underneath the corset’s boning to test its looseness. “Relax baby, I won’t hurt you.”

I tilted my chin up to bring my lips to his and met his tongue with mine to show him I trusted him, feeling the sharp edges of his teeth graze over my bottom lip as I pulled him closer. He pressed my body into his, so I could feel his heat, and slowly ran his hand down to my lower back, lifting me to pull my legs around his waist, shuffling me backward until we hit the wall. He cradled my face in his hands, pinning me to the wall with his knee between my legs. I dug my fingers into his soft, unruly hair and a smooth moan slipped from his mouth to mine, sending my senses into a dizzy spin.

Inspiration suddenly struck, and just as quickly I knew my idea could seriously backfire, but I took my chances anyway. Sliding one hand behind my back to the tail of my corset, I yanked a safety pin from where it tightened the material and discreetly brought it forward to my neck, wincing as I pressed down and dragged it lightly over my skin to draw a delicate trail of blood, hoping it would drive him wild. He said he wouldn’t hold back, but I could tell he was still trying to be gentle, could feel him struggling to ease up on his grip and lessen the intensity in his kiss. The last thing I wanted was for him to treat me any differently because of my past. Especially now. Especially tonight.

He immediately flinched and withdrew his mouth from mine when he sensed the blood, breathing hard while pulling back to pry my limbs from his waist. “Do you have a death wish? What the hell are you doing?” Even though he set me down, his hands remained on my hips, his fingernails still digging into them. He glanced at the dark red blood trickling down my neck, clenching his jaw. “No, Camille.”

“Go ahead, I know you won’t bite.” I ran my thumb across the trail and then slowly sank it into his mouth so he could taste me, as I did, leaning forward to kiss his chest and undoing more of his buttons. He groaned when my lips made contact with his skin, and closed his mouth over my thumb. I peered up and skimmed my tongue up, toward the hollow of his throat, watched him shut his eyes. His hands moved from my hips down and around to my behind, yanking me forward to haul me against him again.

“You’re insane.” He grabbed the pin from my hand and chucked it to the floor, wrapped me around him again. “What are you trying to do to me?” The huskiness in his voice was low and carnal, his eyes on fire as he shoved me back up against the wall, savagely ripping and clawing at the front of my corset binding with one hand, pushing up my long skirt to clutch my thighs with the other. His fingers were rough and callused from working, his chin stubbly from lack of a shave, prickling my cheek when he brushed it against my face. With one swift movement, he created a forceful rip up the side of my skirt and I gasped, feeling his aggression intensify when he pressed his nails into the bare skin of my leg.

Excited that my gesture seemed to work, I responded by tearing his bowtie off and ripping his shirt open, pulling it loose from his pants. A guttural growl reverberated in his throat, and he shifted me away from the wall to pull my underskirt out of the way and reposition himself between my legs. Slamming me backward again, he dipped his tongue farther into my mouth and explored the curves of my breasts.

I felt the tiny stream of blood trickle from my neck and meet my chest at the hem of the corset; my eyes widened in surprise when he bent down to put his mouth to it. He caught the trail and ran his tongue over it, licking it all the way to the top of my neck, his breath hissing when he reached the open scratch. Latching onto it with his lips, he wrenched at my sleeve to give him better access to my neck, shredding it, leaving it limp at my shoulder. His body’s strain pushed harder against my core; his foot slid between my ankles to push my legs farther apart. Holy hell. What did I just unleash?

I cried out, not from pain, but from an overwhelming elation, satisfied that he gave into my request and that he desired me just as much as I desired him.

“Camille, you’re killing me.” His breaths were mouthwateringly ragged when he stopped sucking my neck just long enough to carry me down to the floor and place me over a low, flat haystack. He slipped between my legs again and leaned up on his knees to remove his shirt, sliding my skirt up once more to run his hands along the insides of my legs, letting out a low, seductive chuckle when I shivered. “You have beautiful knees, my God.” He hitched the skirt’s material a little higher toward my hips to bend down and kiss the inside of each knee, causing me to squirm in the most delicious way. “And you taste incredible. Way too good …”

Reveling in his ardor, I swept my hand from his stomach to his pants, undoing the buckle as roughly as possible to show him I returned the enthusiasm. He looked down at me as I moved to his zipper, a heart-stopping, lopsided smile on his face. It would be a miracle if I didn’t pass out before the night was over from looking at that sexy face.

Yes, Camille. That would be an excellent way to make the wedding night memorable. And what if I disappointed him? Would I ever compare to the others before me? To her? I swallowed, attempted to shoo the nausea-inducing thought away.

Tire him out, Camille. Audrey’s words flashed through my head just in time. That was exactly what I intended to do. He was my husband now. All mine. Every glorious inch of him.

And then he was inside of me.

He tugged at my lip with his teeth and buried himself deeper, our sighs mirroring one another as he lifted my waist to gently curve my back, kissing my chest as he did, biting down on the corset lacing and pulling up on it with his teeth to slacken it further. I arched my back higher to push his mouth down onto my breasts, and clung to his back and shoulders as we moved, letting a soft hum escape my lips when he thrust forward with more urgency.

He slipped one hand through my hair to pull my head backward and his fingers dug into my scalp, gaining grip on the roots, kneading and pulling while he increased the speed and our rhythm. His moans echoed in my ears, calling out my name before his tongue moved desperately back to my mouth. I’d never felt more whole in my life, his body, endearments, and breathing sending me over the edge. “Gavin, please … don’t stop …”

“I want to hear you, baby. Let me hear you,” he moaned as he pushed harder and harder, voice strangled, his determined grip on my hips ironclad. His face was filled with perfect torture and longing, hanging over and watching me as though I were the most desirable creature in the world.

After he pushed me into an uncontrollable frenzy, his jaw set, his cry thrashed over me while I exploded around him, both of us finding our release together. Within minutes we repeated the same ravenous episode, then over and over again, all over the windmill: up against the same cold wall, on the straw-laden ground, atop the rolls of hay, and between the large wood beams that held up the structure. He even let me use the safety pin again, allowing me to draw just enough blood to make him lose control. By the time we laid, soaking in sweat, on the windmill’s floor, I’d completely forgotten we were in Amaranth, forgotten that the mere glow from the lanterns could give us away.

“I told you we need to turn these down,” I panted, rolling sideways onto my stomach to reach over to them, itchy from the wool blanket he’d hurriedly draped over our bodies.

“Wait.” His hand shot across me and caught my wrist before I grabbed the lanterns, then he shifted to his side to lean on one elbow and face me. “I love seeing your skin under this light.” He coasted his fingers over my shoulder blades and followed the curve of my spine downward, caressing my lower back before shimmying the blanket down to grab hold of my rear. “You have the most delicious backside, love.” He leaned down and gave me another squeeze before kissing it. “Someday I’ll really be able to bite into you.” He skimmed my lower back with his tongue, and smirked. “Mmmm. I look forward to that.” Sitting up, he reached over me to turn down the lanterns.

“‘Someday’ being the key word.” I remained on my stomach and folded my arms, cradling my head on top of them to smile at him. “My backside would not be the ideal place for you to turn me into a vampire. I can just hear Audrey now, the comments she’d fire away when I answer her ‘Where’d he bite you?’ question.”

“Oh, that would be one for the books, I’m sure.” His chest shook with soft laughter, his face still dim-lit from the cool blue moonlight that filtered in through the mill’s tiny window. “With a little luck, these will be gone,” he pointed to his fangs, “and you and the word ‘vampire’ won’t ever be in the same sentence together again.”

“A little luck?” I wiggled my body closer to him and snuggled into his arms, laying my head flat on his chest.

“Hey, we still get a few more minutes of uninterrupted bliss, let’s not even talk about it.”

“Agreed.”

“Although when it comes to leaving this place, I must say I’m looking forward to a few familiar comforts of earth.” He stuck his bottom lip out and pouted like a little boy, “I’m starting to miss my books, and having a television around. My Hitchcock collection is probably lonely without me.”

“Ha. Your collection will survive,” I poked his ribs. “You’ve only seen those movies a thousand times. At least you can play the guitar here. You can have your music. I’m the one who’s suffering here. I miss your chicken parmesan. Hhhmmm.”

“Oh yeah?” He looked down at me and gave me a pleased grin, ran his hand through his tousled hair. “That will be the very first thing I cook for my wife when we return to earth, then. You have my word.” He gave my shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “I know it’s probably been the last thing on your mind since … I’ve been gone. But I have to ask. Have you gotten any writing done, by chance?”

I played with the crescent-shaped wedding ring on my finger, twirling it around and admiring it in the faint light, thinking about his absence, then softly shook my head. “No, not much. She won’t get suspicious if she sees this on me, will she?” My voice grew quiet, my tone sullen.

“Forget about her. Keep it on.”

“But if she sees it …”

“You don’t see her often anyway. Don’t you dare remove it. I’m yours and you’re mine, and that’s all there is to it.” He rubbed my arm and nuzzled his kiss in my hair. “It’s almost time to end this, baby. By the time the rest of the resistance gets here, there won’t be much she can do about it. I’m sure a ring on your finger is the last thing she’d be looking for. Even if she notices, let her run to Samira all she wants then. For now, we just have to keep up the facade.”

I let out a deep breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, realized my eyelids had grown heavy. “Mmhhmm,” I murmured against his chest, feeling myself slipping away.

“Sleep for a little while, love. I’ll wake you up in a bit to take you home.” I started to drift to sleep, Gavin humming “Stairway to Heaven” to me while I sank deeper into my post-wedding bliss.

* * *

Whoever was shaking my shoulder wouldn’t give up. I groaned, and rolled over to go back to sleep when I heard, “Cam.”

Gavin.

“Camille, hurry,” he whispered. Persistent. Alarmed. “I need you to wake up.”

Stifling a yawn, I opened my eyes, tried to adjust them in the dark. It didn’t take me long to see Gavin searching frantically for his pants and shirt.

“What’s going on?”

“Josh just sent me his thoughts. We need to get back. Now.”

“Josh?” I sat up, alarmed.

“Get dressed. We have to get back before things get worse.”

I stood and immediately wobbled, lightheaded from the sudden head rush. Gavin caught my arm to balance me and tossed me my clothes. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?” I began dressing, feeling around for my cloak to hide my ripped sleeve and tattered corset.

“Something’s going on with the blood supply. We went from very low to nonexistent. Everyone’s panicking. The Amaranthians think we’re going to start taking it from them, and our group’s getting desperate, wondering where their next meal’s going to come from.”

“What? In the middle of the night? Where did the blood disappear to? I thought you guys just rationed it out and checked the remainder of the supply earlier tonight?”

“We did. That’s why Josh is freaking out. It just vanished. He said it’s been stolen. Said it had to have been. Everyone’s getting weak, and we need to keep our strength up to fight with the others when they get here. Come on, we have to get back and calm everyone down.”

He slipped on his cloak and barely waited for me to button mine before he took hold of my hand and whisked me toward the door. I gave one last glance over my shoulder at the tan wool blanket we left behind, the only remnant of our night together, wondering if the last few hours would become a faint, fleeting memory buried underneath the chaotic rubble of the latest crisis.