Escaping Mortality Page 2

  I snort, and Flynn pulls him closer. “Feed, sir.”

  He blows out a breath as though to calm himself, and although he now doesn’t need to breathe, it will take time for the lifelong habit to die. He leans forward and tilts Flynn back, the boy pliant in his arms.

  “To us?” Edmund asks.

  I nod and rest my hand in the center of his back.

  He bites into the side of Flynn’s pale neck—a neck decorated in old scars from years of living in Michelle’s New Orleans coven. Flynn croons at the sensation. For his part, Edmund groans and leans forward on his knees, resting Flynn on the bed beneath him. I watch and listen for when he has had enough, and when the moment is right, I tell him so.

  He pulls back, but Flynn still clings to his hair as if he wants more. “Make love to me, sir.”

  Edmund licks a spot of blood from his top lip. “I cannot. I have only one beloved now.”

  My dead heart soars at the very idea.

  “But I believe you would be so gentle…” Flynn rolls onto his side and begins to doze.

  Edmund admires him for a moment before gazing at me. “Gentle is not something I want to be right now.”

  I hurriedly carry Flynn from our room. In the hallway, I hand him to Felipe—who was apparently listening at the door—and tell him to fuck off. I have very important things to do. Well, one thing in particular.

  When I turn around, Edmund has shed his breeches and wears nothing but muscle and skin. “Jesus.” I sigh and put my hand to my chest.

  “You’re too far away for what I intend.”

  “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

  He smiles, revealing his white, pointed fangs. “Come on, then.”

  I try to tackle him onto the bed, but he moves too quickly—and he’s much stronger now than he used to be, especially since… “No fair. You’ve just eaten.” He has me pinned, straddling my hips with his hands holding mine to the bed. I know I could buck him off if I chose—I am hundreds of years older—but I choose not to, allowing him his current study of my face.

  He lets go of my left hand and touches my lips. “I can really see you now. You’re different.”

  “Am I?” I run my free hand up the outside of his bare thigh. “Better or worse?”

  “Neither. No, it’s…” He gets that look of his, the curious one he assumes when he’s figuring something out. I think back to our time on the island when my beloved naturalist wanted to know about my “species.” I wonder what experiments Edmund might soon run on himself—and the Elder. Good God, I hope Brien is prepared for a battery of questions.

  “Edmund?”

  “I can see into you—see the very love on your face.” He relinquishes control of my right hand too. His fingers tickle down my chest.

  “I do love you. More than anything.” I squeeze his ass and press my clothed cock against his bare skin.

  He gasps at the contact, tears my shirt open, and tongues my nipple. I actually wince when one of his fangs makes contact. I wrap his hair around my fingers and pull until I can see his face—and his fangs.

  “You need to put those things away.”

  He blinks. “Right. Hmm. Well.”

  “Think about them. They’re like any other part of your body.”

  “Other parts of my body are quite easily excited.”

  I chuckle. “And thank God for that, but…” I tilt my head.

  He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He takes another. I’ve seen him breathe this way, deeply and slowly, when he does his morning stretches on deck. I wonder if it’s his way of quieting his ever-racing mind. When he opens his eyes, he shows me his teeth, and they are white and straight and human again.

  “You’re going to be brilliant at this.” I pull him to me and suck his bottom lip between my own. With our mouths still connected, he leans up higher on his knees and taps my hip. I understand the silent entreaty and raise my bottom half off the bed long enough for him to divest me of my breeches. Finally, we are skin to skin.

  When our cocks touch, he lets out an inhuman moan. I shush him and put my hand over his mouth. “The whole ship will hear.”

  “Let them.” He moves his hips in circles above me until my head falls back on the bed and I lose the ability to speak. I grip his hips and move my own body in small waves that meet his gentle whirlpool. “Fuck.” His hands clutch to my chest.

  I open my eyes and want to sob at his beauty. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. It just feels…more.” His mouth drops open as he presses down roughly against me. “I didn’t know anything could feel this good.”

  I caress his lower back before moving my fingers lower. One teases against his entrance, and the shock of sensation makes him shout. I push the fingers of my other hand into his mouth to stifle him. As I press a finger into his ass, it’s as if I have him pinned. His hips lose their careful rhythm as he ruts against me.

  With him so distracted and despite his newfound vampire strength, it’s easy to flip him onto his back. He makes a quick noise of protest before I lift one of his long legs over my shoulder and push two fingers into his hole. Holy Lord, the expression on his face is almost enough to make me come. He clutches to the headboard above him and absolutely keens. His whole upper body arches off the bed.

  “So beautiful,” I manage, although I’m surprised I can string words together.

  When I enter him, we’re both beyond incoherent. We mumble vowels and consonants into each other’s hair. Now unafraid of hurting him, I unleash some of my immortal strength until his entire body shifts up the bed with every thrust. Soon, he’s half sitting with me riding him. He clutches to my shoulders, and I hold tight to his hips.

  For a moment, I slow and kiss at his neck. I lick glittering sweat from the side of his face, and he stares at me like he wants to speak but cannot.

  I continue my pounding pace and wrap my hand around his straining member. The back of his head makes a rather alarming sound against the headboard, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he comes with a howl that I swallow with a kiss.

  I usually pride myself on tormenting my sailor by withholding my own orgasm, fucking him until the pleasure-pain becomes too much and he begs for mercy, but I can do no such thing. No, as soon as I feel his muscles clenching around me, I let go and melt against him. We are a tangle of tingling limbs and heaving chests when I return to my surroundings. His fingers dig into my scalp so much it hurts as I pant against the side of his neck.

  “We will fuck every day, you hear me?” he says.

  I huff out a laugh and thrust my softening member into him once more. The pleasure of even that makes my toes curl before I slip out. I realize I have him trapped, and the way his legs are angled—well. I run the tip of my finger over the soft skin behind his knee, and he jerks beneath me.

  “Andrew, don’t you dare.”

  I repeat the movement, and he giggles. He tries to shove me away, but he’s curled up in a way that hinders his strength. He is completely at my mercy, so I test pressures and motions on his only ticklish spot until he’s writhing with laughter beneath me.

  “Please, stop!”

  “Did you think I had forgotten?”

  He teased me for ages about the ticklish spot I had yet to find. He ultimately disclosed its location only when he thought he might die. I assume it was his parting gift to me, his little secret. Now that he will live with me forever, I plan to utilize my priceless knowledge in abundance.

  “Yes. No. I…” He goes limp beneath me. “I admit defeat.”

  I stop tickling. “And what do I get as your forfeit?”

  He looks up at me, eyes aglow with pleasure and glee. “I’m pretty sure you have everything you need.”

  I lower his legs from my shoulders, use his hips to shift him down the bed, and spread out on top of him the way he enjoys. I don’t need to say anything. Edmund is asleep in mere moments anyway.

  Chapter Two

  IN THE MORNING, I’m not surprised to find h
im gone—but I am annoyed. I have grown accustomed to Edmund rising before me, especially during those days when he lost himself in the library in New Orleans. I had thought maybe he would wait for me on this, our first day together as immortals, but I shouldn’t be shocked. I really shouldn’t.

  I dress quickly and set off to find my sailor. I wander the hall, wiping sleep from my eyes, then finger brush my blond hair. It must be very early indeed because the ship is quiet and I come upon no one as I approach the common area, where Edmund occasionally takes his tea.

  Took his tea. He won’t drink tea anymore. I wonder if he’ll miss it.

  I push the door open, walk inside, and find not Edmund but Brien. His dark eyes lift when I enter. He is nothing like he was yesterday as he is now a man, not a monster. I was thirty when turned and Edmund, twenty-eight. Brien must have been older—I would guess upper thirties, which had probably been considered ancient in his time. Even I, a Viking soldier living to see thirty, had been miraculous.

  “Good morning,” I mutter. I should bow at his feet for what he’s done for me, but I still resent him for swallowing Edmund’s soul.

  He tilts his head forward just a bit. His long, black hair is now clean and pulled behind his head. He wears a simple shirt and coat.

  “Have you seen Edmund?” I ask.

  “Not yet.”

  I turn to continue my search, but Brien’s voice, smoky and deep, stops me.

  “Why did you try to subdue him last night?”

  I freeze.

  He takes a long, slow breath. “It seems a waste. He makes such…decadent noises.”

  I mimic his long breath to keep myself from jumping the table and clawing his throat.

  “My apologies for hearing, but it is a very small ship.”

  The ship is huge.

  “You should be careful. He might eventually tire of your jealousy.”

  I’m about to retort, but the door opens and I smell Edmund and the sea. He smells different, of course, now that he’s dead—but he still smells sweet to me and like the bright, sunshine scent of open air.

  “Hey! Morning.” He pulls me to him and kisses me. “I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so satisfied.” He grins. “Brien. Morning. Did you sleep well?”

  A long fingernail taps the table. “The noise will take some getting used to.”

  I try not to glare by focusing on Edmund, who no longer dresses as a sailor but as a society man in the green suit we bought, along with a matching waistcoat and no cravat, as usual. “You’re gorgeous,” I say.

  He rests his hands momentarily on my hips. “Well, I spent the past week dying. I felt the need to be fancy.”

  “Is this how men dress now?”

  I turn to see Brien gesturing to Edmund’s tailored coat and long pants.

  “Only the stylish ones.” He smiles and pulls out a chair across from the Elder before sitting with a satisfied sigh. “I have so many questions for you, I don’t know where to start.”

  “Questions?”

  I put my hands on Edmund’s shoulders. “He’s a scientist. His curiosity never ends.”

  “How’d you end up sleeping on that sunken island, anyway?” Edmund asks. “I’d been there before, you know, before it went under. Seven years ago. Hell of a party.”

  The chair creaks when Brien leans forward. “I thought you smelled familiar.”

  Edmund chuckles. “I don’t know whether you’re being truthful or not.”

  “I might be a very good liar.”

  “You can’t lie when I ask you questions. That’s cheating.”

  Brien leans closer. “Cheating?”

  “I mean not fair.”

  “What is fair?” Brien asks.

  When I look at Edmund, he’s not smiling anymore. He stares at Brien the way he once stared at me: like a puzzle that needs solving. Only there are more crinkles around Edmund’s eyes. I’m not sure, but I think he might be scared.

  He blinks and rests one of his hands on mine. “Let’s go on deck. It’s a beautiful day.”

  The chair creaks again when Brien leans back, and Edmund stands.

  I run my thumb over his cheek and up into his hair. “Will you miss tea?”

  “What’s tea?” He winks.

  HE’S SLICED INTO his palm so many times I’ve lost count. He doesn’t even wince when he does it—just presses the knife against his pale skin and pushes. I suppose Edmund is good at pain. He’s never complained about it, at least. I sit across from him at the common room table reading a book while he does his experiments.

  “Holy Christ, my calluses are gone.”

  I glance up from my book. “You only now noticed?”

  He glares at me as though I’ve done something wrong. “When did you?”

  “The first time you touched me.”

  Most of his scars are gone, too, except the long one on his back. That one remains, thanks to an angry electric eel. When the Elder told him to “picture himself healthy,” apparently Edmund believed that lovely scar was important enough to retain. I wholly agree.

  He stares at his hand. “And now, the cut’s already healed.” He sighs, picks up his knife, and makes another deep cut.

  I wince.

  Silently, he counts. “Five seconds.” He writes this number on a piece of paper and scrawls additional notes while muttering, “Amazing. Bloody amazing.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  He smiles at his notes.

  The door swings open. “Edmund!” Flynn ever so dramatically makes his entrance and rests his slight weight across Edmund’s shoulders. “Darling, I’m so full of blood! Won’t you take some?”

  Edmund chuckles as Flynn rubs against him. “I cannot. I have eaten more than enough.”

  He does not exaggerate. Over the past two days, humans have offered their throats to him in every dark nook and cranny of this ship. He is a novelty, this new vampire, and he is Edmund, charming and handsome as ever—perhaps more so with the loss of his mortality.

  “Andrew,” Flynn whines.

  I set the book down. “Come on then.”

  Our little redhead hurries to my lap and curls himself within my grasp. I nibble at a fresh wound on his neck and drink until he moans. Lucky for me, I have regained my hunger for humans other than my sailor, although I will always carry the ghost of him on my tongue. No one will ever taste as good as Edmund once did.

  When I pull back, Flynn hums and pets my chest. He leans his head on my shoulder and makes no move to stand.

  Across the table, Edmund licks a drop of his own blood from the blade and frowns. “Well, that’s disgusting.”

  I laugh at my scientist.

  “Have you ever cut off a finger before?”

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  Edmund pouts adorably. “Poor sport.” He sets down his knife and writes, writes some more. I have no idea what he’s writing, what could be of such interest, but I’m not as smart as he is.

  Flynn nuzzles ever closer as if to remind me he’s there on my lap—and wanting. Every time Edmund drinks from the diminutive young man, he requests they make love, and Edmund always turns him down. It’s sort of a shame that Edmund refuses all sexual advances but mine, considering mixing blood and sex is quite a high. But Edmund is resolute. He’s done with everyone else. It’s a heady, delicious burden I bear.

  “I see you’re still breathing,” I say.

  “Haven’t forgotten how yet.” He lifts his hand to reach for his knife.

  I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t been paying attention, but when he raises his fingers, the knife moves. It shivers as though cold. Edmund curls his fingers into a fist. His light blue eyes are huge in his face.

  “Andrew. Did you…”

  I shift Flynn on my lap and lean forward. “I…”

  No, Edmund hasn’t forgotten how to breathe. He’s breathing quite quickly now, in fact. He opens his fist toward the knife, and instead of shivering, it scoots across the table right toward him.


  Edmund draws back as though burned. “Oh, my God.”

  “It’s magic,” Flynn gasps.

  Lips parted, Edmund gazes at me. “Brien,” he says, and we both shoot to our feet.

  Ever since that first morning, Brien has spent all his time alone in his room. He does not feed or socialize, much to Michelle’s chagrin. She had hoped to spend a plentitude of time with our newly discovered Elder, and maybe she will eventually. Maybe he simply needs to adjust to a world that will only get louder once we reach London. Based on the way my beloved stomps down the hall, it’s going to get louder sooner rather than later.

  When we reach Brien’s door, I push Edmund behind me before barreling inside. Despite his immortal status, I still feel the need to protect. Brien barely glances up from his seat against the wall.

  “What have you done?” I shout.

  Brien blinks at us from below dark brows. “I do not understand.”

  Edmund places his hand on my shoulder. “Andrew.”

  I shift out of his way but stand at the ready to attack.

  My sailor doesn’t speak as he glances around the room. Eventually, his gaze settles on a pointed cloak pin. He lifts his right hand and spreads his fingers wide. It takes a few silent moments, but then, the cloak pin flies at us. Shocked, even our immortal speed can’t catch it before it lodges in the wall.

  Edmund cusses, and Brien stands.

  “So it did work.”

  “What did?” Edmund asks.

  I take a threatening step forward. “What did you do?”

  He wastes no attention on me, only Edmund. “Nothing awful, as your tone would suggest. I merely shared with him some of my abilities. I did not think it had worked, but apparently, it did.”

  He reaches his hand as if to caress my darling, but I catch his fingers in my fist and squeeze.

  Brien slowly, calmly shows me his teeth. “He is my creation. I have as much right to him as you.”

  I open my mouth to speak as Edmund says, “What the bloody fuck?” He shoves us apart, and both Brien and I have to stutter-step to keep from falling. “Excuse me, but I’m not a possession. I don’t belong to either of you.”