Four
Corbin knocked on Brittany’s apartment door an hour later, determined that he would remedy the situation. What he suspected, based on simple biology, was that their child would be born immortal, with no urge to drink blood. At first glance, that had seemed a positive outcome to the situation, at least compared to the alternative. But what had concerned him was how an immortal child would mature, both physically and emotionally. That was something he could not predict, no matter how much research on vampire genetics he had garnered, but after talking to Ethan Carrick, he felt somewhat reassured. Carrick hadn’t mentioned any complications from his niece’s unusual genetics.
That left only the need to secure secrecy about the baby, which despite his aplomb with Carrick, Corbin had his doubts about. Brittany was a bit unpredictable, he had determined. Or perhaps impulsive was a better adjective to describe her. There was no guarantee she would want to marry him, but he was going to have to convince her of the obvious merits of such an arrangement.
Brittany answered the door with a smile. “Come in.”
It struck him anew how beautiful she was, how sweet and pure of heart, honest and compassionate. That was what had attracted him to her in the first place, had made him forget himself. “Good evening, Brittany.”
Corbin loathed the idea of lying to her. Hated that no one would know she was carrying his child, wouldn’t know that she had opened herself for him, that he had taken her, blended his body, his DNA, with hers and created a child. It brought out all manner of feral urges he hadn’t even realized he had.
Not to mention embarrassment.
“I knocked on the door,” he said inanely, not at all sure what to say to the woman he had made love to with an appalling lack of finesse. That alone was cause for awkwardness, but added to his own bad handling of that night was the memory of her huddled in her pillow, so embarrassed she had refused to look at him. He could honestly say that had been a sexual first for him, leaving a woman writhing in emotional discomfort. Now that same woman was having his immortal child. There was not a greeting card for this particular occasion.
She laughed a little. “Yes, you did. Thanks.” She led him to her living room and she sat down on a thick floral sofa.
Brittany’s apartment was very white and pink with lots of competing floral patterns, china hung to the walls, and a profusion of pillows. It had a cottage feel to it that pleased him, even if it was excessively feminine. He sat down on the sofa opposite Brittany and was immediately enveloped by lacy pillows. It didn’t feel like a position of power, to say the least, so Corbin leaned forward and put his forearms on his knees. He could do this. Had to do this.
“Aside from the morning sickness, you are feeling well?”
“Yes, I’m tired, but that’s normal according to the doctor.”
“When is your due date?”
“May twelfth.”
Now what in hell did he say? Brittany was looking at him expectantly. “I am sorry if I have caused friction between you and your brother-in-law.”
She shrugged. “Ethan is worried about me, but he’s totally on my side.”
And against Corbin. He heard the subtle censure. “I am also sorry for my irresponsibility. I have never before… created a situation… ” He couldn’t think of a delicate enough phrasing for what he meant.
“I’m the first girl you knocked up?”
He winced. So much for delicate.
“That does make me feel better, Corbin. I admit it would bother me if you’d had a kid every decade for the last five hundred years or something.”
The very thought offended him. “This is not a habit for me. I do not normally succumb to passion and lose sight of all common sense. This was a first, and I have already apologized. Besides, I am only two hundred and ten years old.”
Brittany looked amused. “Is that all? I’m twenty-six. And in case you were wondering, this is the first time I’ve ever gotten knocked up. So we’ll just have to bumble through this first time for both of us together.” Then her smile disappeared. “Unless you don’t want to be involved. If you don’t, I understand. I’m not expecting anything. I just need you to be honest up front and tell me so that I know what I’m dealing with. And it won’t be fair to our child for you to pop in and out of her life whenever you feel like it, so I’m just going to be clear right here and now that I won’t tolerate that ‘I’ll be a father whenever I feel like it’ kind of mentality.”
Surely her opinion of him was quite low if she thought him capable of such irresponsible selfish behavior. It occurred to him that they had certainly done this backward. They knew nothing of each other and yet they were having a child. He no longer got headaches, but he could swear he felt one now, throbbing at his temples.
Yet this would work out. He was determined.
“I have no intention of popping in and out, as you say. My intention is to marry you as soon as possible.” After they were certain no one would suspect the truth. “We can live here if it pleases you, or we can live apart if you prefer. I will pay for the education and upbringing of the child. He can attend the same boarding school I did in France.”
Brittany was sure he had no idea how absurd he sounded. “You want to get married but live apart?” What the hell was the point in that? All that would do was screw up her taxes and prevent her from ever dating in the future.
“If that is your preference.”
Corbin was not making this easy. Brittany still had no real sense of how he felt about the situation. “What is your preference?”
“My preference is to ensure your happiness.”
That was an artful dodge of the question. “Have you ever been married before?”
“No.”
“And you’re not going to be now. I’m not marrying you, Corbin. Just forget it. I am perfectly willing to give you visitation with the baby, though that could be dicey with the whole sleeping during the day thing, but we can work it out so you have plenty of time with the baby. I would like child support and a dialogue with you regarding major decisions. But I am not marrying you.”
“You’re being unreasonable.”
And he was being ridiculous. “I am not being unreasonable. I just offered you shared custody. And sweetie, just to remind you, you are a vampire. How many women would be willing to leave their infant in the care of a bloodsucker? I think I’m being very reasonable under the circumstances.”
“That is insulting. And if you were being reasonable, you would agree to marriage and we would not need to have this argument.”
Brittany was trying really hard not to lose her patience. Normally, she almost never flew off the handle, and she was a real happy-go-lucky kind of woman. But she was tired, hungry, and nauseous, and he was pushing a bit hard against her patience. “So we should get married, live apart, each take recreational lovers whenever the mood strikes us, and send our child thousands of miles away to go to school. Why don’t we just hire a wet nurse while we’re at it.” And move into a nineteenth-century gothic novel.
Corbin tilted his head. “Can you still find such a service? We should consider that.”
The sad thing was, he was actually serious. “Sure, if we want our kid to be warped. You have no idea how children are raised in the twenty-first century, do you?”
He looked affronted. Corbin opened his mouth, snapped it shut, fell back into her couch cushions. “Perhaps not,” he conceded.
The misery and horror on his face made her feel bad. It wasn’t like she was an expert, either. “That’s okay. I mean, you probably haven’t been around kids much in the last two hundred years, have you? We just need to talk these things through, like we are now. See, we’re doing so good at this already. We’re communicating and working things out, which is so important when you’re raising a child together.”
“You do not know what in hell you’re doing either, do you?” he asked.
No, but she was optimistic she could learn. “Not really. My experience with kids is kind of limited to Nanny 911 episodes and the kids I see as patients in my dental practice.”
But she knew a boarding school in France wasn’t going to fly. And don’t even get her started on the whole marriage-of-convenience thing.
“Brittany, tell me about your childhood.”
“Oh, uh.” Maybe they shouldn’t go there. Brittany crossed her legs and cleared her throat. “Well, you know, I grew up here in Vegas.”
“And your mother was a stripper?”
“Yes.” She wasn’t ashamed of that, not in the least, but it probably didn’t mesh with Corbin’s image of Mother Material. “My mom died when I was thirteen.”
“I am sorry. How did she die?”
“She overdosed on painkillers.”
“You were very young to be without a mother.”
“I had Alex. She was eighteen and she took care of me, kept me on the straight and narrow, and put me through school. I’m normal and well adjusted, Corbin, I swear. My childhood wasn’t a walk in the park, but it wasn’t hell either. We had food and a roof over our heads, and our mom loved us in her way. We even had a stepfather for a few years who was fantastic and provided a positive male role model in our lives. I can be a soccer mom, I want to be a soccer mom, even if that’s not the way I was raised.”
“Soccer mom?” Corbin looked puzzled.
He really was out of the domestic loop. Too much night dwelling. “A suburban mother who drives a minivan full of her kids and their friends back and forth to soccer practice. It’s sort of a general term for a suburban mom who spends a lot of time ferrying kids around.”
“Ah,” he said, but it didn’t look like he was getting it.
“How were you raised?”
“My parents were very wealthy French landowners who escaped to England during the Terror. I was born in London, but was sent to boarding school in France when we returned to the Continent after the defeat of Napoleon. My early years were spent learning to fence, learning to ride, and tending to my education. I did not spend much time with my parents, as it would have been unseemly for them to attend to my daily care.”
Wonderful. They could just scratch using their own experiences off their parenting skills checklist. If they did that, Brittany would be popping Vicodin and Corbin would be too busy with his opera house mistress to ever see them. They were going to have to use common sense and do this their own way.
“Okay, if we’re putting this in a nineteenth-century context, think of me as coming from a middle-class merchant family. How would a tradesman have raised his child?”
It was meant to get him to look at child-rearing in a more hands-on way, but Corbin merely stared blankly at her.
“How should I know?” he asked. “I was not a tradesman.”
Brittany felt the urge to smile, but squeezed her lips together tightly. “Maybe we should hit the bookstore and get some parenting books.”
That seemed to offend him. “I do not need to read a book to learn how to raise a child. Zat is absurd.”
“I mean it as an information-gathering expedition. We should know our facts, see where we stand on the issues.”
“I know the facts. You are expecting my child. That is the only fact that is relevant.”
Yeesh, he was damn cute when he was being so French.
“Thank you,” he said. “Though I am not fond of the descriptive cute .”
“What… ” Brittany felt her cheeks heat up. “Get out of my head, Corbin! Stop listening to my thoughts.”
“They were wide open to me,” he said with a twirl of his hand. “I was not fishing. They floated over to me.”
That was so annoying. Brittany attempted to do a mental door slam on her thoughts. “Anyway . How do you feel about an epidural versus a natural childbirth?”
“I think that is entirely your decision since you are the parent giving birth. I would not presume to tell you what to do.”
Score one point for Corbin. Brittany smiled at him. “Inducing labor? Cesarean sections?”
“I am not an obstetrician. We will discuss those issues with your doctor should they arise.”
Geez, he was unshakable, with an answer for everything. He was looking stiff and determined, resigned to do his duty, and didn’t look like he’d be curling up with a baby-naming book anytime soon. While she was grateful he wanted to do the responsible thing, she didn’t want her child to have a father who resented his role.
“Do you think a baby can ever get too much love?” She wouldn’t be able to stand it if Corbin was going to ride her for spoiling their child with attention. She was a cuddler, and she was going to cuddle the heck out of their baby while she had the chance.
His eyes narrowed. “Am I being interviewed for the role of father?”
“No!” Not really. “Of course not. I just think it’s important we get to know each other’s parenting style. See where the other one is coming from, so we can iron out any differences ahead of time before we’re up to our ankles in diapers and bottles.”
He continued like she hadn’t spoken. “Because I am the father and zat is indelible. Unchangeable.”
Next he’d be slapping her face with a glove and challenging her to a duel. He was so outraged in an old-fashioned way and she thought he was adorable. “I know. Chill out.”
“I will not chill, as you say. I will answer all your questions, but then I demand the right to ask some of my own.”
“Fine. Absolutely. So what do you think about the whole letting a baby cry thing?” Brittany wasn’t sure about it herself. She saw both sides of the issue and figured it fell into the category of feeling her way through it.
Corbin frowned. “Babies cry. I don’t understand how that is a question.”
“Some people think you should pick them up right away, other people think you should wait five minutes and let them cry it out.”
“I have no opinion at this time,” Corbin said stiffly. “Though I would question what is the difference? If you can, you pick the babe up. If you cannot, you don’t. What is the grand debate?”
Well, that certainly put things in perspective. “What about the family bed?”
“The what?” Corbin tilted his head. “I think perhaps my modern English is not very good, as I have never heard those two words put together.”
“It’s where the parents and the child sleep in the same bed every night.” Brittany wasn’t sure how she felt about it, having known friends who were happy on both ends of the spectrum. She was open-minded and willing to try whatever was going to work for her and her child.
But the look of horror on his face gave her his stance on that particular issue. “Why?”
“Um… for comfort and a sense of family, I guess. So a child doesn’t feel abandoned.” He didn’t want their baby to feel abandoned, did he?
Corbin made a snorting sound. “I can tell you right now that if you and I are sharing a bed, there will not be a child in it with us. Ever. For any reason. If you and I are not living together, and you choose to have our child in the bed with you, I will not interfere, but never could I be convinced that such a thing is either necessary or appropriate. That is my final word on that topic.”
Okay then. French vampire had spoken. Feelings of abandonment were not his concern. Duly noted.
“You are putting words in my mouth,” he accused. “I would never, ever want our child to feel abandoned. As long as he is living, I will do my best to love and protect him.”
His last words made her forget how annoying it was that he seemed to have no problem reading her mind. “Corbin… I just realized that you won’t die. This baby and I, we’ll get old, we’ll die, and you and my sister and Ethan and Seamus and Cara, you’ll all just go on and on and on.” The thought made her unaccountably sad. They would all know entire centuries of living without her. “You’ll be like that old lady from Titanic and I’ll be Jack, a faded distant memory. You’ll be young and sexy and dating some exotic South American woman or something and I’ll be fertilizer.”
Brittany started to sniffle. Damn, the business about hormones really was true. She couldn’t stop tears from pooling up in her eyes.
Corbin swore, feeling guilty as hell. For getting Brittany pregnant, for making her cry, for war and poverty, for all human suffering, you name it, he felt guilty for it. A woman’s tears did horrible, cruel, vicious things to his insides, and even more so with Brittany because she was normally so cheerful, so sweet. He had reduced her to this, he had made it obvious to her that her sister would live long after she was dead and gone.
He wasn’t sure if now was the best time to tell her that the baby wouldn’t die either, that Corbin strongly suspected this child would be born immortal—not vampire, since he wouldn’t need blood, but not mortal either. Corbin expected the only one who would die in the equation would be Brittany herself and that thought was disquieting in the extreme. He had lost many people he had cared for in his early years as a vampire until he had isolated himself, focusing on his research, avoiding relationships.
Now he was in one up to his eyeballs.
“Brittany, hush, it is not so bad as all that.” What the hell was he saying? It was a goddamn mess. And she was out and out sobbing now.
Corbin stood up, unable to sit still. “We will take things one day at a time, yes? Let’s enjoy this blessing we have been given, and live in the now.” Vampires were good at that. You had to be, or you’d go mad. Though he was lousier at it than most, and prone to melancholy. Perhaps he should keep that flaw to himself, though.
Conviction swept over him. He pulled her to her feet and wiped her tears. “And I will not be dating a South American woman because I will be married to you.” That was the right thing to do. He knew it both intellectually and emotionally. It was the responsible, moral, and safe thing to do to ensure Brittany and the child’s protection. He knew all that, had determined it was the proper course of action.
Plus he found the idea of being married to Brittany Baldizzi appealing in the extreme. He wanted the right to make love to her whenever the urge struck him, and he wanted to be there with her and his child through all the trials and triumphs. He had been given a gift. For a brief period in his long, long vampire life, he could live as a mortal man did, with a beautiful wife and a child. He wanted that with a fierceness that surprised him.
Her shoulders slumped and she looked nervous. “Corbin… ”
“Do not protest. Let me show you how it can be between us.” Corbin brushed back her hair, certain he had found the answer, the solution to all the confusion and guilt he’d been feeling. Yes, a marriage of convenience, but one that was passionate and comfortable. “Let me court you, Brittany, and show you that together we can raise our child, enjoy each other’s company.”
“Court me?”
Brittany was easy to read. Her face hid nothing, and she always spoke the truth. At the moment, she looked intrigued and pleased by his proposal. Her cheeks were pink, and she was a bit glassy-eyed.
It seemed a very natural thing to kiss her. To just close the space between them. “Yes, court you.”
“I guess that would be okay,” she said in a whisper, his mouth cutting off any further words.
Her lips were warm, plump, open for him, and Corbin savored the taste of her. He put his arms around her, drew her tight in to him, and took the kiss deeper. Brittany was delicious, felt so good against him, and that was why he had lost control the first time he had kissed her, and turned a simple touching of the lips into impending fatherhood. He wouldn’t do that again—lose control, that is. But on the other hand, he could not get her pregnant a second time, and she felt so right, her soft sighs, her body flush against his spiking hot, eager desire. Surely he could indulge in a small taste of her charms.
She pulled her mouth back enough to murmur, “Corbin.”
“Yes, ma chйrie ?” He buried his hand in that thick dark hair that flowed down her shoulders and back. That sigh she gave was very pleasing and he wanted to taste more of her, deeper. He kissed her again, sliding his tongue inside to mate with hers.
She groaned, echoing his own.
“Corbin, I… ”
“Shh, I know.”
“You’re making me dizzy, it’s too much,” she said, her voice breathless.
“That is good.” Corbin was wondering if it was much too soon to make love to her fully. Surely not. After all, she was carrying his child, would soon be his wife. It was logical that they would be intimate again. Though he imagined logic was not what was driving him.
“We shouldn’t… ” she murmured, but there was a clear lack of conviction in her voice.
Corbin moved his lips over her long, pale neck, loving the scent of her dewy flesh, the hint of rich, strong blood pumping through her juicy veins. “We shouldn’t have the first time, but we did and I do not regret it. This time there is nothing to stop us.”
“I’m not normally easy.”
“Of course not,” he reassured her, hearing the doubt in her jumbled thoughts, but feeling the compliance in her body. He brushed his hand over her breast and reveled in the shiver she gave. “It is just you and I have something different, yes? We desire each other very much, have from the first day we met.”
“That’s true… you looked so sexy in your suit. But it was terrible of you to leave me on the roof like that.”
He had left her on the roof because her cheerful acceptance of his vampirism had appalled him, but it had been uncalled-for behavior. Corbin kissed the corners of her mouth, slid his tongue along her bottom lip. “That was the second time we met, not the first. But it was bad of me, and I most humbly apologize. Perhaps you’ll allow me to make restitution for my earlier rudeness, as well as for my rushed lovemaking.”
Brittany gave a hearty sigh that veered into a moan when he rubbed his thumb across her nipple. “I’m definitely feeling like I could use a little restitution.”
Corbin loved the way she reacted to him, the way her body leaned toward his, the way her fingers gripped the sleeves of his shirt. And he was well aware this might be his only opportunity for intimacy with her in several months. It suddenly felt akin to taking a last swallow before a long drought. “Then this is good timing, Brittany.”
Eyes half-closed, she murmured, “I’m really, really tired lately. You know, since you got me pregnant. So I’m just warning you, you’re going to have to do all the work.”
Corbin felt his body—actually, a very specific body part—greet that information enthusiastically. “Of course. I am making this up to you, remember? All you need do is tell me what you like and what you don’t like and leave the rest to me.”
“Okay, then.” She pushed his hand harder against her breast. “I like this.”
Corbin never had to doubt Brittany’s feelings. She never hesitated to share them, and he liked that. No guesswork.
The shirt she was wearing, a tight pink T-shirt, needed to disappear. Corbin lifted the bottom of it and dragged it off over her head. Brittany’s bra matched her T-shirt, a vibrant, energetic pink satin. Her breasts were pale luscious mounds, pushed up and together by the magic of the modern bra. It almost matched the beauty of what a good corset could do, and had the added benefit of allowing her total movement, and him free access to her waist and navel.
Brushing his lips over her warm flesh, Corbin breathed deeply, enjoying the warmth of her dewy skin, the rush of her heated blood. She felt different to him, her waist tapered, ribs more prominent, skin pale, and it was clear she’d lost a few pounds. But in contrast, her breasts had swelled, were rounder and more robust than they had been before, and her scent was different.
The bra was cutting into her flesh, and Corbin traced his tongue between the fabric and her skin, feeling the groove it had left behind. “This has gotten too small, yes?”
“I know, but I’ve been too tired to go shopping.” Brittany’s hands rested on his shoulders.
Corbin raised his head and kissed her, strange feelings of compassion, guilt, desire rushing through him, running alongside something confusing and deep and strange. “Poor Brittany. This is all my fault. You should yell at me. Punish me for taking advantage of you.”
She let him nuzzle her neck, her fingers digging into his flesh in a way that enflamed his desire. A slight smile crossed her face. “No one takes advantage of me. I wanted what you gave me, Corbin. And I want it again.”
No, Brittany wasn’t shy about revealing her feelings. Corbin swallowed, his mouth dry, his body taut with anticipation. “I am delighted to give it to you.”
With that, he bent over, scooped her up into his arms, and started down the hall toward her bedroom.
She kissed him on the neck, the chin, the mouth while he strode faster and faster, not really seeing where he was going. At one point, he bumped against the wall, misjudging the door-frame. Instead of apologizing, he simply used it as a prop, a way to hold some of Brittany’s weight, so he could kiss her back, fierce, hard, his fangs dropping down in his pleasure.
The swell of her breast was too close to ignore and Corbin licked her skin, suckled and kissed, before allowing his teeth to sink into her and then quickly withdraw. Just a little taste of her blood, just a tease for both of them.
Brittany groaned. “Why does that feel so good?” She swallowed hard, pushing his head back toward her breasts. “It’s like… like almost as good as when your… goes into me. It’s that same sort of… I don’t know.”
Corbin held her tighter, his erection throbbing, his control slipping, his mind going blank with desire. “It feels good because it is a joining, just the way it is when I thrust my manhood into you and you accept it with your body… this is the same.”
“Manhood?” Brittany whispered. “Can you thrust something less icky-sounding into me?”
Corbin was tempted to laugh, but he didn’t. He wanted Brittany to understand, to acknowledge and enjoy what was between them. “When I slide my teeth into you, we’re feeling each other’s pleasure, feeling the connection between us.”
Moving his lips over her nipple, which had popped up out of her bra, he said, “You feel it, too, don’t you? This bond between us.”
“Yes. I definitely feel it.” She stilled his movements, his casual brushing, by gripping his head. “Suck it, Corbin, please, you’re torturing me.”
This was why he could not resist her. There was no man with an ounce of testosterone who would refuse such a delicious and demanding invitation from a woman he desired. And he obviously had a reasonable amount of testosterone since he had in fact gotten her with child, which made him feel no small amount of pride and possessiveness.
So he tore off her bra with vampire speed, and covered her nipple with his mouth, drawing the taut bud fully into him and sucking hard.
She made a sound, sort of a growl low in her throat, that compelled him to set her down in the hallway so he could push his erection against her jeans as he moved from one breast to the other. The change in her body was even more apparent without the bra restraining her. Her chest was full and lush already, and clearly sensitive. Every move he made, every touch, every lick and suckle, had Brittany squirming, panting, gasping, and protesting when he so much as paused for a second.
Corbin undid the button on her jeans, slid his hand inside, and cupped her mound with his hand. She was very warm, and thrust forward to meet his touch. He pulled back, wanting all that denim gone, yet wanting to step back and slow down, so he could savor the experience, the taste of her.
“No,” she murmured. “Don’t stop.”
“I am taking you to the bed,” he murmured in her ear, nipping at the lobe.
“Oh, okay, then. Good plan.”
Just to impress her, Corbin picked her up and moved to the bed with his undead speed, laying her down and discarding her jeans before she could so much as blink.
She licked her lips. “Cutting to the chase?”
“Yes.” Corbin stood at the bottom of the bed and drank in the sight of her. She was amazing, delightful. Her full pouty lips were swollen from his kisses and her cheeks were flushed with color, two bright pink spots on either side. Her hair was spread out around her thick and lustrous, dark and exotic. Her legs were long and slim, going on and on, and he reached out and peeled her pink panties down a mere inch.
“Just don’t cut too much to the chase, or I might miss all the action. I’m still mortal, remember? I don’t want to blink and have the good stuff over with.”
“That is not something you need to worry about. I plan to make love to you all night.”
“Score.”
Corbin paused, lips hovering right over her panties, unsure of her English. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing, it means that’s a good thing that you’re going to make love to me all night.”
“It does?” He pondered that. He supposed it was a reference to sports and the winning of a point. “I am not well versed in modern slang.”
“Okay, fine, I’ll stop using it.” She moved her legs restlessly. “Just stop talking and cut to the chase.”
Corbin grinned, rubbing his lips over her panties, knowing it would torture her. “I thought you didn’t want me to cut to the chase. And that is slang as well.”
The groan of frustration she gave pleased him. “Corbin… ”
“Yes?” He peeled pink satin down in front, holding it with his thumbs, and took his time studying her sex, taking in the scent of her desire, rubbing his mouth over her softness. “What is it, my dear?”
“Nothing.” Her voice was breathy, her hips thrusting up toward him.
He pulled back. “Are you certain? I can stop if there is something you are uncomfortable with.”
Eyes closed, her head went rapidly back and forth. “Don’t stop.”
“No?” Corbin moved his tongue over her sensitive flesh, closing his eyes to savor the taste of her, the triumph of her shudder, the pleasure of feeling her thighs relax, settle open farther for him.
“No,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”
Disposing of her panties, he traced her thigh, first one, then the other, with his tongue, enjoying the way she spread her legs, the way she arched to him, the way her fingers moved into his hair and gripped hard. When she was shifting back and forth, making little sounds of impatient distress, Corbin finally brought his mouth back to her, stroking his tongue over her clitoris.
Brittany groaned, her voice rising as he moved over her, tasting her thoroughly, stroking up and down with long leisurely licks, then pulling back to tease her. When she yanked at his hair, trying to drag him back, he gave her what she wanted, moving in with increased speed and intensity, nipping and sucking at her, plunging his tongue inside her warmth, pulling it back out. He knew she was going to orgasm, felt the tightening of her legs, her inner muscles, and he maintained his rhythm, his own desire hot and thick and hard as she exploded under him. Her cries were loud and unrestrained, her fingers fisting her bedsheet, hair spread out in all directions and tumbling over her cheeks and lips.
Her passion was beautiful. He loved that she wasn’t insecure or shy about her body, about her desires.
“Oh,” she said, eyes popping open, thighs settling back onto the bed. “That was hot. Take your pants off and give me another one.”
No, Brittany wasn’t shy. Corbin went up on his knees and unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it toward a wicker chair resting in the corner of her bedroom. “It would be my pleasure.”
She pried at his belt buckle, obviously intending to speed up the process. “Take off your watch. It scrapes my skin,” she said as she undid the belt.
Corbin paused, knowing he needed to tell the truth, but feeling a sense of shame. “It cannot come off,” he told her bluntly, turning his wrist a little to show her the titanium-faced wristwatch. Most of the time he was not aware of it, but suddenly he felt its weight most acutely. “It is the way the Nation keeps track of my whereabouts while I am still under the terms of my punishment. To take it off would be essentially a parole violation.”
Brittany frowned and lifted her hair up over her head, revealing cheeks and a chest still flushed pink from her orgasm. “You have an actual sentence?”
“Yes. Forty-five years I must remain in Las Vegas, visible to the government. I have served forty, with five remaining.”
Her fingers still rested on his belt and he felt the sudden urge to shove them away. It was a mirage, his relationship with her. He was not entitled to happiness, as his wristwatch reminded him. Living as a normal mortal man was not his destiny, and he knew better than to think it ever could be.
“Because you killed a woman?”
Corbin flinched. “Yes. I did not realize she was emotionally unstable when I selected her to draw a blood sample from, and to bite to infect with the virus. In those days I was focusing on how the virus was transmitted. But she was unaffected by my glamour, and remembered what I had done. She followed me, offered herself up to me, and when I refused, I thought it was the end of it.” Now was not the time to discuss this, but he knew, could read on her face, that Brittany was not going to let it rest. She was carrying his child, intending to be intimate with him yet again, and he knew she was entitled to the whole truth. “I did not realize she would cut herself open to entice me to feed, did not realize she would beg for the gift of eternity. I did not give it to her. Could not give it to her. So she died.”
He swallowed thickly and looked over at Brittany’s dresser, where she had framed pictures of her and her sister, Alexis. It was foolish to think he belonged here, that he could live a normal life. Not when he could still see that young woman’s face, the desperation in her eyes as she begged him to make her whole, to make her a vampire, to drink her blood, all of it, even as he smelled and sensed she was pumped full of illegal drugs and antidepressants. He had been unable to turn her, had recoiled at the very thought, but she had gone wild, stabbing and slicing herself, her lifeblood bleeding out.
“I let her bleed to death, then I collected blood samples. It was a heartless, cruel thing to do.” At the time, he had been so shocked by her behavior, that he had taken the blood almost automatically, as he had trained himself to do. But afterward, when he was in his apartment, her dead body left in the street, and he had called an ambulance anonymously, he had been appalled at how he had handled the situation.
Corbin had turned himself in to the Nation, disgusted with his useless, aimless life, knowing without a purpose he would go mad, slowly and certainly. Knowing that being vampire and watching so many mortal deaths had changed him, made him immune to the horror of suffering, the tragedy of death. He had even suspected he had grown cold to death because he himself yearned for it, had grown to despise his lonely and futile life. So he had committed himself to going beyond vampire viral transmission to actually finding a cure. The quest for mortality for the dozens of vampires tired of endless life.
And in his new purpose he had come to a new place of peace with himself, a tacit truce with his own eternity.
“I had removed myself so entirely from society that I forgot my humanity.” The irony of his agreement with the tribunal was that he was allowed to continue his research, but he was not entitled to participate in vampire society. So he spent all his time moving among mortals, using charm and persuasion to collect blood samples from women when it was occasionally needed, never allowing himself to get emotionally involved. Until Brittany.
She wasn’t looking at him with disgust, but understanding. “So you decided to pursue the cure to vampirism, didn’t you?”
He nodded, surprised she had reached that conclusion.
Shifting her grip from his waist to his own hand, she squeezed. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine having to make that kind of decision, that choice, with no time to weigh the consequences. I think it was wrong of them to punish you. From a legal standpoint, you didn’t do anything wrong, in my opinion. But I can see how it must have devastated you… I would have felt the same way. Someone can’t possibly understand what they’re asking for when they request eternity. It’s not a decision you make lightly.”
That was not the reaction he had expected. He’d thought Brittany would have argued that he wasn’t responsible, that he was brooding for nothing. He had certainly heard that from fellow vampires. Then there were those, like the Committee for Fair Feeding Practices, who had condemned him for choosing his victim poorly, for his lack of a controlling glamour, and his poor handling of the situation. They had maintained that he should have wiped her mind completely clean so as not to jeopardize vampire security. Or if that was unsuccessful, turning her to vampire. Letting mortals die hysterical deaths was not something they could advocate without looking draconian.
He hadn’t advocated it either. But Brittany was the first to understand why he hadn’t been able to turn someone so obviously unstable to a vampire. He had felt a horror at the very thought, like the woman had no idea what it meant to walk the earth undead forever, nor had he thought she would be capable of following the rules of the Nation, given her behavior.
“It was not an easy decision, and it all happened so quickly. I just reacted. But that doesn’t mean I’m not responsible for my own actions. I am. I initiated contact with her, and I did in fact infect her with the virus, and take her blood. That was not ethical.”
“Yes, but if you had to live through the situation again, same circumstances, with forty years to reflect, what would you do?”
Corbin didn’t really need to consider. He hadn’t had a choice. The other options had been more abominable than the decision to refuse her his lifeblood. “I would do the same thing, though I would disarm her of the knife more quickly and call for medical help sooner. But even more to the point, I wouldn’t have approached her in the first place.” But that wasn’t entirely the truth and he knew it. He still sought out unwilling donors to provide him with genetic material for his research, and he used both glamours and charm to achieve that. That was in fact precisely why he had originally approached Brittany—for her blood. The work was more important than worrying about taking one little vial of blood from someone, and he had to remember that, had to focus on the big picture. But the guilt ate at him.
He also knew that the real reason he wore the wristwatch and was banished from polite vampire society was because his research scared the powers that be. They had used the woman’s death, and his clear remorse, as a convenient excuse to keep him in Las Vegas, to have him visible at all times. They didn’t want him finding his cure or making any other genetic discovery, then taking it to the wrong vampire.
“You know what you believe is right, Corbin, and don’t let them tell you otherwise. I think you did the right thing.”
Looking down at her, seeing the conviction in her eyes, he believed her. Brittany and he had a lot in common, given that she was misunderstood the same way he was. Hadn’t he heard her sister telling Brittany she was too trusting, too naпve? That wasn’t the way Corbin saw it at all. What he saw was an intelligent, compassionate woman who stood behind her convictions. Convictions that were remarkably similar to his own.
He bent over, kissed her forehead. “Thank you. You are an amazing woman.” Stroking her hair, he added, “Perhaps I should leave you, let you sleep.” This may be his last chance to be inside Brittany for months, but he had ruined the moment with his confession, and she was fatigued anyway from the pregnancy.
Her eyebrow shot up. “Are you stupid? I don’t think so! Take your pants off and let’s do this thing.”
“Do this thing?” He almost laughed.
“Yes. Do me .”
Corbin felt his ardor immediately rise. He appreciated that she knew what she wanted, and just dove into it with her eyes open and heart on her sleeve. “Excellent suggestion. I will do this thing to you again and again until you are begging me to never stop.”
Her eyes darkened. “Don’t stop,” she said, raising her hips, a smile playing on her lips.
Corbin scoffed. “That’s not begging.” He disposed of his pants and pushed himself inside her without warning, sinking his teeth into her shoulders.
She enclosed him, sending ecstasy sliding through his body, while simultaneously her blood sluiced over his fangs and rolled back into his throat. It felt amazing, delicious, but he forced himself to let go, to pull back out of her entirely, on both counts.
Brittany groaned. “Don’t stop!”
“Closer,” Corbin said, his own voice sounding tight, a sweat breaking out between his shoulder blades. “But not quite begging.”
See, this was why Brittany had slept with Corbin the first time. He was a very polite, though brooding, vampire with mysterious green eyes. And when he touched her, he managed to obliterate any signs of rational behavior whatsoever. He was dominating and skilled, and both times within five minutes he’d had her at that point of no return, where she would willingly go just about anywhere sexually with him. Inhibitions? She had nada with Corbin.
“Please, put it back,” she said, reaching down and grabbing hold of him, stroking his hard, slick flesh.
“That’s not begging either. That’s wheedling. That’s flirting. That’s you trying to get your way with your big beautiful brown eyes and your plump pouty lips.” He bit the bottom lip she had admittedly shoved out.
Brittany closed her eyes, enjoyed that tingling, that tugging sensation of him pulling on her blood, drawing it into his mouth. It didn’t hurt. It felt sexual, like having her finger sucked during passionate foreplay. She stroked him faster, trying to maneuver him between her legs.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, even though she did. She was used to pouting with her sister to get her way, even though she was a grown woman. It usually worked, so she kept doing it. But Corbin wasn’t going for it, damn him.
Without warning he rammed his cock into her again, knocking her hand away. She barely had time to gasp at the full sensation, barely had time to enjoy the eye-rolling stretching of her inner muscles, when he left again, making her groan in frustration. “Stop doing that.”
“Stop altogether?” he asked playfully, not seeming to be at the same point of desperation she was.
He was just suckling her nipple calmly, with no apparent hurry, while she was squirming and dying and tense. And she’d already come once. His control was to be admired.
Later.
Right now she wanted him to knock it off.
Locking her legs around his thighs, she tried to flip him on his back. He didn’t even budge a millimeter. Damn undead strength.
Lifting his head, he gave her a very naughty smile. “Did you need something, my dear?” he said, sliding into her once more.
Trying to hold him inside her was futile. He was gone before she could dig her nails into his back. “Stop it.”
“I believe the phrase is don’t stop .” He kissed her neck, her shoulder, her breasts, his fingers playing between her thighs, slipping and sliding, but missing the point for the most part.
Brittany gave up to the agony, every inch of her body screaming for satisfaction. “Don’t stop, Corbin, please.” She wiggled, trying to force his fingers inside her, but he eluded her again.
“Not quite right yet, but I’m feeling generous.” He thrust deep inside her and rested there for a minute.
“Yes… ” Gripping his biceps, she moved her hips, pleasure coursing through her.
He moved fast, hard, and pushed up into her over and over while Brittany panted and tried to keep up, ultimately giving up, collapsing back and letting him pound into her with delicious ferocity.
“Don’t stop,” she said, her voice warbling. “Don’t stop.”
And when she was going to come, when everything in her stilled and ripped up, when her mind was empty and pleasure painful, when she felt a breathtaking pause right before she burst over him, she said with everything inside her, “Do. Not. Stop.”
Corbin locked eyes with her, and she watched his change to a deep forest green. “Never,” he said.
She let go, and clung to him as they exploded together.