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One shifter. One tiny witch's cottage. Mei fully expected to earn her money’s worth on this expedition. She shifted her hooded gaze upwards, to the house in question sitting high upon a meadow’s hill. White picket fencing squared off the humble, flowered lot. She could sense a menial barrier spell in place and spied the black runes etched along fence posts.
With a wave of her hand, the enchantment crumbled, yielding to her power and giving her free passage. A tempest picked up, threatening to send her wide brim hat billowing in the wind. She cupped one hand to her head, the other to the silver sword snug against her thigh. Hair whipped her cheeks, lashed her sun-chapped skin till her eyes watered.
The tumultuous wind halted once she’d stepped over, only a lazy, warm summer breeze greeted her now. Fat dandelions wafted in the current, lacy umbels clung to her dark fabrics, decorating her breeches with iridescent fronds.
As lovely as it were, high grasses promised the best cover for her prey.
Quietly, she stalked, oh so thankful for the breath her body no longer required. Her sharp eyes had begun to ache in the setting sun’s light, but blessedly, dusk would cover soon. She’d be at her best, prowling the land studiously.
Mei couldn’t help but gaze at the surrounding area with appreciation.The late witch of this manor had lived a most beautiful life. Ever fruitful garden surrounded an unyielding stone cottage. Vegetation clung to every surface, blanketing her view in hues of brilliant green. Songbirds hummed a late evening tune, giving way to the noisier crickets and toads at this hour.
A worn path led her through arches of climbing flowers, little bees worked hard around her. Their buzzing a perfect companion to the bubbling rush of water flowing inside grounded stone channels. Mosaiced lovingly into the landscape— the man made rivers beckoned her towards the garden’s centerpiece. Awash in the scent of husk berries, nearly choked by climbing roses— sat a tiny greenhouse.
Mei tilted her head, feeling an odd sense of familiarity. She reached forward to touch a glass panel, withdrawing to feel heat on the other side. She parted the thick bundles of roses with care— silly, considering she’d no reason to— and to her surprise, beyond the obscure glass, she saw a dying fire in what looked to be a woodstove. Brows knitted, she circled the building. The doorknob had been cleverly disguised as a rose at one time, but now the worn lacquer coat revealed oxidized brass.
She’d been told there were but one property, not two. As she slipped beyond the double doors, she wondered, could someone have lived here? Inside, she confirmed her suspicions. The scent of a shifter overpowered this solitary space. Not even the roses creeping in from the port window above could dilute it. Heady and rich. Like good soil and cold rain.
The greenhouse’s occupant had made ingenious use of its rounded shape and limited area. Book shelves lined the walls all the way to the top— hanging baskets, some with fruit, others with trinkets circled above. Papers littered the stone floor and on closer inspection, Mei realized they were someone’s blueprints. Intricately detailed prototypes of odd mechanisms. She picked one up as delicately as she’d handled the roses. The scrawled handwriting in the corner signed simply ‘J’.
“I have no idea,” She set one away for another, “ What these are…” Mei murmured while she folded one up. A treasure from her conquest she tucked into her boot.
She ambled around, nearly tripping on bedding sheets. A flattened pillow and mass of blankets were tucked to one side of the greenhouse, snugly against what appeared to be a drawing board. Beneath it were...prosthetics? Laying carelessly as if they’d been thrown.
Mei crouched, hips popping and hat floating to the floor. She reached for the metal casts, thumbed the little cuts and indentations curiously. A forearm and leg. Both right. Joints interlocking perfectly, well oiled and squeak free.
Peculiar.
Put back in their places, Mei stood. She dusted her trousers, raining snowy petals that shimmered in the sunbeams struggling through. Admiring the fine arboretum a final time, she went to the door almost reluctantly. This warm room hidden among the flowers called to her. Tugged the tethers of her wilder instincts, urging her to perhaps purchase this manner once her job was finished.
With a sigh, she exited, sealing the entrance behind her. The roses mended themselves, coiling over one another like snakes.
Mei had known nothing like this in her childhood and felt foolish now for thinking herself nostalgic. Not completely lost in the fog of her daydreaming, she tensed as rustling sounded in the husk berry thicket ahead. If her heart still beat it’d likely be in her throat. Ten centuries in the mercenary trade and she could still jump at a pin drop. Mei blamed her heightened senses.
Now, she listened well, already perceiving the faint intake of sharp breaths her target took. She approached the bordering thatch while a tiny, frantic heartbeat ticked in her ears. Mei narrowed her gaze on shuddering leaves and movement just beyond. She nearly shouted when a barn owl leapt from the brush, blood dappling its snow white wings. The creature took to the sky, stark against the darkening canvas.
She chased without hesitation, satisfaction surging like nothing else when the bird swooped low, seemingly disappearing in the meadowy grass enveloping the estate. A laugh escaped her when the little barn owl shuddered on its ascent, shifting its form in an explosion of tendons, bone and plumage. Amidst the falling feathers, an enormous black dog emerged. Shoulders hunkered, casting Mei an unreadable expression before bolting.
Their chase led them far past the property fence line, where she could see the dog’s gait growing slower and slower— heartbeat sluggish and breaths laborious. Perplexed, she watched the shifter tear almost immediately back towards the manor.
“You’re not allowed to be here!” Mei shouted after the creature, clambering over the fence.
“You’re the one who’s not supposed to be here.” A guttural, undeniably accented voice growled in response. Sending shivers dancing up her spine.
Huffing, she tore after her target and unsheathed her sword. She leapt for the beast, hacked its ankles— faulting in severing a foot, but managing to knick deep enough to earn her a pitiful howl. Blood suffused the air, suffocating her for a wild moment before she cleared her senses. Seemingly unscathed, the dog darted— leaving a trail right to the garden for her to follow.
The overwhelming need to care for a wounded animal disappeared upon reminding herself this creature was no scared pup or barn owl, but a devious shifter she’d been told had murdered the good witch that’d lived here before. That thought fueled her next actions. With precision unmatched in her field, she flung her sword for the head of the beast, missing by a hair. Her blade skewered the earth, warbling a metallic song.
The creature yipped, tucking bushy tail and delving into the rose thickets. Mei had to shield her nose from the intoxicating aroma of blood flourishing. Thorns scored flesh and ripped tendons. The shifter’s heartbeat transitioned to a shrill rhythm, signaling its change to a smaller animal. She fell to her knees, face pressed against the ground as she spied a tiny mouse darting amongst the foliage.
Mei reached into the depths, snagged the plump mouse and wrenched it free, cutting herself in the process. The sting of spurs faded with the conquest of her bounty. Little teeth bored into her hand, the fangs snapping larger in an instant as the shifter reshaped.
Writhing from her grasp in another ghastly explosion of sinew and bone, a deformed black dog emerged once more, cords of muscle slithering over one another in an attempt to fuse. Mei gasped, shocked as the transformation failed utterly— sending her target sprawling backwards.
Ahead of her, unconscious in the grass, lay a man. His skin mending before her eyes, leaving behind a perfectly formed person. His tousled blonde hair a stormy mess abound his freckled face. His bruiser nose fittingly crooked with the rest of his sharp features.
Striding forward, Mei chanced a touch with her boot. She kicked the dirtied sole of his foot, awakening him with a start. His eyes flashed open, petrified as he scrambled away from her, dragging himself as best he could through the grass.
Mei reached behind her, retrieving her sword from the dirt.
“O-our sudden introduction is lacking any formal— er introduction. ” The shifter trembled violently as he placed his left hand— his only hand— over his bare, hammering chest. “I-I’m Jamie. Jamison Fawkes, ma’am— “ His voice wavered. “A-and we can call you bloodthirsty huntress in all practical sense.”
Mei scowled at his use of the word bloodthirsty. As if he knew just what she was. She poised the tip of her sword at his throat. She needn’t but thrust lazily and sever his bickering. He swallowed audibly, sweat beading on his furrowed, unmanaged brow. Realization dawned as the sun set finally behind her.
Cold night swaddled her in its familiar embrace, soothing the sun’s brutal treatment of her skin. Daylight tended to smother her senses since The Change . Her horrific transition from human to devil. Vampire. During day hours direct sunlight had her flesh blistering, even the indirect warmth of it fatigued her. Time in the sun wilted her, but the moon’s cold shine did nothing but give.
“You’re radiant.” He stated matter-o-factly, motioning towards her. “Like— you’re glowing. In your cheeks.” He cupped his own face, gazing at her with wide amber eyes.
Mei touched a hand to her cheeks, not surprised to find her skin a hue brighter. The moon gave many things. Light inside and out. It didn’t help she’d been surging with satisfaction as the sun had fell to the horizon.
Jamison nudged her sword aside. “And just who sent you here? If I can be so bold to ask— was it her ? I-If the old cunt wanted me gone so badly— Why didn’t she just come back?” He blithered senselessly to her. When his golden eyes fell downcast to his muddy foot, and he refused to meet her gaze— she pitied him. The pain in his voice spoke volumes more than he would.
“Why didn’t she just come back and tell me to go?!” He shouted, not at her, but rather over the darkened, empty meadow. “ Let me go....?” He trailed, weakly nodding towards the fence.
Mei decidedly delved into conversation she should forbid. Jamie was still her bounty. Upfront commission be damned... “Usually the people I meet with...are not the ones looking to get the job done.” Folks, especially the upper class, loved to send their lackey or a fumbling servant down her end of the district. She knew everyone there was to know in seaside Gibraltar. And she also knew, she’d never seen the young man who’d commissioned her that day. Not around town, not by the docks, not even lurking in the wayback of the markets. Not once.
The shifter looked to her, a quickened flash of resolve flickering across his features. “Tell me that, at least.” He clasped his palm around his throat, leaving a grimey handprint. “Before you’re really done with me.” The bitter tone suggested he still had plenty of fight left in him. He watched her every movement keenly, but relaxed a bit once she’d lowered her sword.
“Client confidentiality.” Mei countered, blade sheathed.
Jamie sputtered. “What? You’re going to kill me and I can’t even know who sent you?” Anger festered in him, beneath his heavy layer of fear.
“Hush hush.” She quieted before coming to her knees before him. She took in the scarring across his muscular abdomen, the chip in his right ear. The...lack of limbs on his right side entirely. Save for a hint of bicep and thigh bound in blue fabric.
Mei had been advised by her commissioner to find the shifter and ‘ do with him as she pleased.’ Which could be taken a great deal many ways. Beheading certainly didn’t have to be one of them.
“I’m not going to kill you.” She promised, offering her hand out for him to take. Which he did so. Hesitantly.
“W-why?” He asked tightly, his palm impossibly warm against hers. She hauled him to a stand, taken aback to see Jamison towered a good head above her.
“Because I don’t need to.” She answered simply, lacing his arm over her shoulders. He stooped to accommodate their height difference. The feeling of his pulse against her gave her pause. How long it’d been since she’d felt that.
“You— you’ve got no idea how excited you got me.” Her new companion interjected her musings. “Earlier, when I could hear your rustling about in the garden— ” He buffed the back of his neck, averted his lovely eyes. “I’d thought you was the witch. Back from elsewhere. Come home to stay or...free me.”
“And why do you need her to be free?” Mei prodded tentatively, leading them both back towards the greenhouse. Which she knew now must be his home. His earthy scent washed over her, the same that’d lingered in his nest of blankets.
“The old witch was my witch. Made me her familiar decades and decades ago. I can’t even leave this place or I get fucking ill. A few steps past the fence see’s me doubled-over, vomiting whatever I had that day. And believe me love, I’ve tried to go. I fucking want to go.” He shook his head defeatedly, muttering curses beneath his breath. His wild hair tumbled over his eyes and Mei brushed it absently behind his ear.
Jamison is a wounded pup.
She could sense no magic on Jamie. No lingering curses knotted in binds. Whatever spell there was upon him wouldn’t break to her will. “I can shatter a great deal of magic, but I can’t— “
“I know it.” He finished gently. Tiring. Giving her a smile that might’ve had her heart racing if it’d still beat. “But you’re not going to kill me now, huh?” His smile blossomed into a toothsome, boyish grin. “Cause me life’s story is just so sad and all.”
Mei couldn’t help but agree on some level.
Jamison sat— fell— on his nest of blankets with an exasperated sigh, his chest rising and falling as he simply breathed. She could watch that for hours. The lofting of breathing. His could be so different, too.
“Can you turn into a cat, as well? Or something like a horse?” She tried to imagine his odd transformation into a creature so large. Would the transition be a long, grueling process? How did his body know what organs to make— the shape of the bones? “Do you think like an animal when you are one?”
Jamison turned towards her lazily, with exhausted eyes and blood warm cheeks aglow. Had she embarrassed him somehow? He shook his head. “I think like me. Just…” He shrugged. “Wilder? I’m real free like that, y’know? Decisions with less thought, actions fueled by instinct.” He clenched his hand, drawing his knees up to his chest. “And yes. Yes, I can be all of that.”
Try as she might to ignore it, the scent of his blood proved overwhelming. She spoke up despite herself. “We need to clean that wound.” She extended carefully, always keenly aware the perception of others.
“The smell bothers me, too.” He agreed, setting up with a wince before leveling his gaze on her. “A gentleman doesn’t lick his wounds in front of a lady.” He reached beside him and plucked her hat from the floor. With a grin, he adorned himself and gave her a few different angles. “A good look for me, you think?” He teased, tilting away as she attempted to snatch it.
“That’s mine— “
“You sure? I swear I have one just like it somewhere .” He looked around her dramatically, effortlessly dodging her swipes. “Besides,” He pointed to her boot. “You’ve got somethin’ of mine in there, don’t ya?”
Mei paused, recalling the blueprint from before. She flushed, pulling it from her shoe and handing it over like stolen candies. A trade off ensued, though his grip tightened a split second on the brim of her hat before he released it.
“You can wear it another time.” She promised as one would promise a child having a tantrum. Her chastising hint of a smile made him snort.
“Can I have your name, instead then?” He sprung, grappling beneath his drawing board. He retrieved a wicker basket with a foggy philter of water, a cork fastening the spout. He bit away the stopper and lifted his ankle.
“You’ll make a mess that way.” Mei scolded, taking the bottle for herself and setting across from him. She pulled the wicker basket and found a neat folding of linens inside. Their flowered trim would be a worthy sacrifice. She eyed Jamison, listening to his steady heart indulgently, blanching when it quickened beneath her gaze.
Wordlessly, she brought his wound forward, draping his left leg over her lap. Linens stuffed beneath, she tediously poured water across his gash. The aroma of blood wafted to her.
Jamison retracted his leg in response, cringing before setting it back in her lap. Mei set out to be twice as gentle, taking extreme caution as she wrapped the cloth round and round his ankle. She patted the red bleeding through and held the fabric there till the flow stemmed. Discarding the soiled rags, she wound a clean swatch three times around. “Mei.” She stated plainly. “My name is Mei.”
“ Mei. ” He repeated back, voice husky.
“Put your hand here, hold this bit, please.” She instructed. He nodded diligently, watching from beneath his lashes as she unbound her hair, sending her mane cascading down her shoulders. She tied her hair ribbon to the loose ends of cloth, sealing it with a sloppy bow.
He gave his ankle a roll, seeming satisfied with her work. Patching him up was the least she could offer, seeing as she’d gouged him in the first place.
“How long have you lived here? Alone?”
Jamison quirked a brow. “I’ve lived here a century. Only a few decades alone, though.” He answered faux casually, masking his truer emotions. Years of solitude would take its grievous toll on any creature. Let alone a social one like a witch’s familiar…
Mei grabbed a metal casting from the floor, the same one she’d inspected earlier. Clearly Jamison’s prosthetics. To which she handed him tenderly. A soft plinking rang in the arboretum when he received them and set to adjusting them on himself. She’d been ready to lend a hand with the leather straps, but he applied them snuggly. Each piece fit lovingly, these’d been expertly made for him. A present from his witch?
Jamison flexed his metal prosthetics, opening and closing his right hand clumsily, but practically. He gripped a pen, tested leafs of paper beneath his fingertips.
“Metal won’t change when I do.” He rotated his wrist back and forth, eyeing the menial tarnishing. “I dropped everything when I realized you wasn’t the witch. Turned into a lark and whoosh .” He made a swooping motion, upwards towards the single porthole window choked with vines.
Mei clasped his metal hand in her flesh and blood palms. She marveled as his fingers twitched. The intricacy of these devices astounded her.
“Can you feel with them?” She asked, bringing it up to cup her cheek.
There were many things to become entranced by in the witch’s garden, and Mei was loathe to admit that the sensitive pace of Jamison’s heart was one. The fiery glow in his irises, another. The lean cut of his body yet another .
“Hardly a thing.” He admitted. “But I supposed that’s not a bad thing.” He brought his left hand to her face, let her feel the difference in each as he caressed her. The tips of his fingers played across her pointed ears, over her parted lips and into the waves of her hair. She found herself drifting in the sensation, tilting in closer to him.
Jamison brought a lock of her hair to his face, scenting it and painting it down the bridge of his crooked nose. Blood whirled in his cheeks, pumped vigorously through his heart. Before she could fix their too-close proximity— the shifter destroyed the space between them. His mouth hovered just above hers. And without thought, she stole what should never have been taken. She crashed her lips over his, hectic and crazed, kissing him. For years she’d denied herself intimacy for the sake of others.
“ So soft…” She uttered against him, leaving him no room to speak as she melded back, daubing her tongue to taste his mouth. He responded timidly, his shock palpable as he shot still, left hand quaking before deciding to rest on the swell of her hip. Their kiss deepened when she felt him calm, his hallowed sigh of relief fanning over her.
Jamison’s strong heart thundered in her ears, the rhythmic sound undoubtedly erotic. Closer together, she could feel its beat against her own. Inside of it. As if it wanted to bring hers to life again. Growing chaotic, her mind fogged with a whispering instinct. Asking sweetly to bite him. Convincing her he’d be alright if she only stole a little blood. What if he likes it?
Some did. But before she could think of sampling him, his curiosity led him into exploring her mouth. One lave of his tongue across her aching fang released a heated drop of his life essence. She froze just as he groaned, and sent him away from her with a shove. Her body mourned the loss of his warmth and she almost grappled for him.
“Why— why did we stop? You just nicked me, love— no harm.” He pleaded with hooded eyes, his cheeks colored beautifully. Temptingly.
Mei dashed the back of her hand over her mouth. “ Immense harm.” She insisted, shaking her head as he approached.
“I’m not human.” He suggested dangerously, angling closer to her again. “You don’t have to worry about taking too much.”
She covered her ears childishly, shaking her head. “I can’t even listen to that!” The line she refused to cross. Never straight from the flesh. She’d promised herself. Donors and butcher’s markets had humanity. What would she be if she dared to drain someone?
Jamison rested his hands over hers, the cold metal of the right felt wonderous on her skin. He waited patiently, pulling away as she did.
“You can’t hurt me with those little things.” He brushed the pad of his thumb over one, daring to slip it past her lips. “You couldn’t if you wanted.” His voice dropped and his heart quickened when she darted her tongue. “Let me kiss you, again.”
And before she could give her agreement he took it from her, replacing his thumb with his tongue. He kissed her recklessly harsh, dizzying her— endangering himself with his eager flicks. She stifled a moan, not unnoticed by her shifter. He pet her curves, polishing her like treasure, stroking her wherever he thought he could get away with.
He touched deviously between her legs, making her gasp and him chuckle. “Take more, just a bite.” He implored, brazenly slipping his tongue across one of her fangs. “It felt nice, Mei.” He spoke kindly, leaving their kiss to trail more across her cheeks and down her throat.
Mei fell back against his sheets, abound in the scent of him. Swimming in it. She grabbed at his bedding for anchorage, trying to rise against the unyielding desire. But her hands found his strong shoulders and her fingers danced the length of his spine, and she veered him back for another kiss.
Jamison sensed her enthusiasm, her abandon— and responded wickedly. He parted their union, only to bring the fluttering column of his neck to her lips. Any tethers of inhibition melted as she tasted the salt on his skin. His pulse just beneath the surface called to her and with a moan she relinquished control. Sinking her fangs into Jamie’s shuddering body surpassed any pleasure she could remember.
Mei could feel him speaking, but heard no sound above his heartbeat roaring in her ears. He embraced her, holding her flush against him as if he were terrified she’d bolt. She wished she could communicate how irrational the fear. She couldn’t if she wanted.
She drew deep of his clean blood, selfishly taking— rocking her hips against him, crawling atop him instinctively. Pinning him. Trapping him beneath her. He thrust against her in concert, bucking between her legs, chasing her softness.
Through willpower she hadn’t known she possessed, Mei interrupted the decadent flow and placed a delicate kiss to her fresh bite. Jamison spasmed beneath her, groaning about her, “ Ripping it right out of me.” The lewd dampness in his trousers suggested he didn’t mean blood.
She muttered a love-drunken apology above him, all the while sucking her fangs and laving his bite clean. Though bruising would most assuredly bloom, at least she’d made her bite a precise one. No tearing, no pain. Not as lost to instinct as she’d thought.
He massaged her sides, pawing at her lovingly while he wriggled beneath. Words turned coherent again— sort of. “ H-How? How’d you leave me boneless like that?” He asked with fallen stars in his eyes. He palmed the back of her head, beseeching her to lay across his chest. Which she obliged, happily. With her cheek mashed against his scorching flesh and her claws curling into his shoulders.
“I’m not bloodthirsty.” She half-lied. While she’d never craved stealing it from the flesh, she’d never encountered the temptation. Certainly never in the form of a wily shifter begging for her to take it.
Jamison nodded absently before rolling atop her, tucking her comfortably beneath him. His hands caged her, his shadow doing the same. “You don’t smell like it.” He dipped his head to the crook of her neck, inhaling her. “Hell, you don’t smell like anyone else.” Which he said with approval before brazenly licking her collar.
As suggestive as he’d had meant it, she laughed. The pinprick sensation tickling her. Something that would prove disastrous for Jamison to know, because he focused there, savoring her involuntary, boisterous laughter and pleas of mercy gone unheard in their solitary garden.
When a little tear spilled from her eye she could feel his heart break. He cradled her, murmuring, “ Sweetheart, oh no— no.” Before he rained a dozen kisses in her head and on her nose. “I won’t do it again.” He promised, giggling throughout.
“You’re the worst.” Mei surmised affectionately, smiling in answer. Pleasure radiated as his essence coursed through her. Bringing warmth to her cheeks and a familiar weight to her chest. He tilted, inspecting her change with a touch of his hand.
“That’s cause of me, right?” He asked proudly, pressing his ear to her breast, listening for perhaps her heartbeat. He withdrew undaunted, before proclaiming, “I want to be your familiar. How’s that sound?”
Mei almost choked at his offer.
“We can be like this more, is that something you’d want?” He asked, stifling his vulnerability with a placid expression.
Something she’d want? A willing blood font in the design of an adoring mate? Mei looked over him, unreadable as she silently came to a decision. One she prayed wouldn’t hurt him.
Jamison led her as a gentleman should to the edge of his home. His fists clenched tight by his sides as he forced himself to take another step. Another. And another. Jaw locked and heart shattered, he watched her. The long tresses of her hair bouncing in the wind, her countenance of guilt. A garish contrast to her soft, pretty face. Her soft pretty everything.
And here he stood, on the border of his confinement, screaming from within, “ Don’t go! Please, don’t leave me. Promise to come back. God, promise to come back.”
The huntress peered up at him, with her cheeks rosy from his blood and her mouth plump from his kiss. He was dimly aware she’d forgotten her hat, yet again, but knew he’d never tell. She extended her hands, slipped them along his sides and embraced him.
He looked foolish, but didn’t think he’d have the strength to let go if he grabbed her now. He stood with her, night cutting them out— two mashed bodies, silhouetted by the struggling crescent moon. Jamison opened his mouth to speak, but she blessedly interjected.
“I’m not leaving you here.”
Yes you are.
“I know it.” He responded, forcing a smile and stroking her hair, fighting to not inhale her a final time. To smother her in his scent so that everyone out there knew! Knew she had someone to come home to…
And then she kissed him. Melded their mouths together in a desperate goodbye, a hint of her fangs grazed his bottom lip. Giving him a taste of that earlier mind scrambling pleasure she’d introduced him to. Now she had the power to take it all away and every right to do so.
She parted their kiss with a little smack , her eyes still fanned shut for a moment after. Whacking his beaten heart for all it had left. Mei was going to take parts of him with her and she wasn’t even aware.
Jamison didn’t know when he’d put his arms around her, but it couldn’t be helped now. Not with her leaning against him so sweetly and listening to his shaken breathing.
“I’ll be here tomorrow. In this very spot.” She made a scuff mark in the ground with her boot. “So, can you meet me here?”
He nodded, refusing to take his eyes off her for their last fleeting moments. “I’ll be waiting, then.” And heavens above if she actually returns he’ll have no choice but to make her his wife. Because she could get away with leaving him once, but he doubted his heart would survive it again.
Jamison helped her over the fence, his left hand caught fast in hers. She squeezed it before she said, “ Jamie... you made me feel. Exceptional today.” She blushed his blood. “And you’re delusional if you think I’m not returning to experience that again and again.”
As believable as she sounded, Jamison knew the hurt of abandonment too well. Too closely. But when she kissed him one last time and grasped his hand with all her might— he felt inclined to trust her.
Stupidly all he could say was, “I’ll miss you.” While she disappeared into the night, with him forever unable to follow.
Jamison had her body covered by his in one clean movement. His amber eyes burned above her, gaze consuming her. She shuddered helplessly as he leant beside her sharp ear to ask, “Wake up thirsting, did you, sweet wife?” He canted his head to the side, baring the strong column of his neck to her with pride brimming in his wicked grin.
An unbecoming moan escaped her as Mei clutched his nape in both hands, claws greedily curling in his scorching flesh. She breathed his scent, sighing, tongue darting out to prepare him for her bite. She felt chills break across him and his magnificent body trembled before she plunged her fangs in.
Jamison keened , he fisted her silk nightgown, hiked it up to her waist while he rocked his shaft between her plush thighs. She whined most pitifully against him, growing wet in a rush from his taste alone. His rich blood coated her tongue thick, flowing down her throat like ambrosia. She always grew a hint dizzy from the raw sensation of her feeding, the pleasure could make her eyes roll back.
But Mei knew her husband’s limits and she retreated with a final, deep draw— which earned a rumbled growl, “Take all that you need, love.”
Her skin flushed with his lifeblood, bringing with it blistering heat. Jamison laughed darkly, nipping her neck with a lovebite of his own, and another and another. Marking her in return, possessively. He nuzzled her face and collar, ruining her with his addictive scent.
Her instinct clamoured mine whilsts his spoke in tangent with a rough kiss. Mei could always count on Jamison for her supply, he didn’t simply jump at the chance— he came at her maddened in broad day, pinning her hips against their kitchen table, brandishing his neck and demanding she take her fill.
“ I need to give to you, now.” He’d confessed, while placing her hand over his thrumming heart. “ It’s addictive, Mei.” He’d laughed boyishly, playing a deep, neanderthalic voice. “ Feed wife.”
Though recently, spoil wife seemed more his endgame as he brought his neck to her lips once more. She pleaded for his sake, quivering when resistance failed and her fangs sank. Jamison fumbled with her panties, shoving inside her before she could taste a drop. His crude thrusts plunged him deep, making her back arch and her toes curl. Blood spilled into her greedy mouth and she reveled in his strong pulse around her aching teeth.
His hands encompassed her, fonded her pillowy breasts and tugged on her nipples. He had her squirming against his lap before he dipped his hands beneath her gown. His thumb found her clitoris and he made slow, tantalizing circles on her sensitive flesh. His actions a direct contradiction to his next words.
“ Mei— Mei, love— I can’t— “ He tried to warn her, he always did. “ Too much— “ He uttered helplessly, voice hoarse as he humped without rhythm, reduced to clawing at her. Clinging to her.
She laved her tongue, coming roughly around the thick base of his shaft. He followed with a shout to the rafters, pumping wildly and flooding her. His hips continuously rocked after his orgasm, stirring their wetness and sullying their sheets to no end. A broken laughed escaped his chest, vibrating above her.
“Did my wife enjoy her feeding?” Jamison asked.
Mei nodded uselessly from the bedsheets, marveling at his firm backside while he prowled the room, looking for a towel to clean them with. She thrummed the dampness between her thighs, sighing contentedly when her husband returned, his body thrumming with their pleasure.
He shot her a devilish grin. “You’re glowing. In your cheeks.” .
Mei pat her face, savoring the coolness in her palms and the towel tossed her way. Jamison scrambled back beneath the sheets like he’d gotten away with thievery and needed to hide. The sun wouldn’t rise for another hour or so, and even at the height of its brilliant cycle, light hardly had a chance to permeate the thick foliage blanketing the windows of their home.
Jamie rolled onto his side, facing her and grinning from ear to ear. “Turn over. Let me hold you.” He urged, scooting closer to the middle of the bed. He pulled her in before she could argue. As if she could with the heavenly warmth her shifter offered.
Mei drifted into a blissful sleep with one thought on her mind. They fit together perfectly.