Feral: Book Two Read online

  “He won’t hate you,” I chortled. “He won’t love you, but he won’t hate you.”

  The end of the summer quarter came quickly. Even with the pleasure of Simon’s company, I had pushed myself hard in the amount of classes I had taken and the amount of studying I did for them.

  The week of exams was intense for me. Simon, of course, had complete and utter confidence in my abilities, but I was not nearly so convinced. Luckily, he had no problems with using our lunch and dinner dates as cram sessions, and while he helped me with flashcards and practical discussions to simulate possible dialogue questions, he also gave me certain tips and pointers to allow me to remember tidbits of information more efficiently.

  Studying with him was much more pleasurable than with the small study group I’d formed. Blake, Ivy, and Vanesia paled as good company when I had Simon to compare them against, but as it was highly likely we would continue to share courses as we completed the program, we’d all made further plans to work together in the future. I was content. Each of them was easy to work with, and neither of them was particularly self-indulgent at the expense of our joint education.

  I had hoped to introduce my father and Simon during the scant break between the end of the short summer session and the beginning of the fall classes. Unfortunately, Dad decided to take a commission from an out of town client, but I couldn’t begrudge him the trip. He was getting a stay in a beach-front villa out of the deal, and I knew that the ocean had long been one of the things that recharged his batteries. And if it happened to give me more time to indulge in my relationship with Simon just the way it was, I was happy about that as well. I did want them to meet; I was just unsure of how to bridge the divide between our plain human lives and Simon’s immortal one.

  When I opened my eyes, I was surprised to see a violet pair staring right back at me. I’d fallen asleep at home, alone, and would have thought that I would wake up the same way. Then it occurred to me that this wasn’t the first time Simon had woken me up, and that I’d even given him a key. I felt myself coloring when he studied me intently. "What are the chances that I will make it to the bathroom to brush my teeth before you stop me?"

  "Entirely nonexistent."

  I crossed my arms stubbornly. "You do realize that you don't play fair, right?" I gave him a glare when he taunted 'life's not fair' and growled at him, receiving a growl back that had my toes curling and my fingers gripping the bed sheets. I felt my blush spread furiously as my body responded by growing wet with desire, and I knew that he could smell my scent because his eyes closed and he inhaled deeply, his growl lowering in pitch and his eyes glittering black when he opened them again.

  He moved the covers and shifted us on the bed so I was lying directly beneath him, and leaned down to claim my lips in a searing kiss. It was loving but possessive. The firm pressure of his mouth plundering mine was undeniable; without words he was reminding me that I was his mate, that I belonged to him and him alone. "La mia," he whispered in my ear as he braced himself on one hand, the other trailing over one breast, down my side and under the damp cotton covering my moist heat.

  When he slid his fingers inside, I whimpered and clutched at his shoulders, my body twisting in pleasure and frustration as he began to pump in and out of me with excruciating slowness. I heard him whisper 'la mia' and thought I would come right then and there as the lust I felt skyrocketed. "Simon…" I moaned his name like a prayer. "More… please, Simon. I need more."

  He obliged, working my pussy faster and harder while his thumb drew small figure eights around my clit, and lowered his face to my neck, where his mouth latched onto an extremely sensitive area of skin. He licked and sucked firmly before ever-so-lightly grazing my flesh with his teeth, never making even the slightest scratch. "La mia. Mia sangue."

  "Fuck!" I hissed, my eyes rolling back into my head as he clearly staked his claim on my blood. I thought that I would die of sheer bliss when a loud growl burst from him and his lips reclaimed my pulse as he slipped a third finger into my pussy, stroking in and out of me feverishly. "Oh fuck! Simon… Oh God, Simon. I’m close, so close."

  Suddenly, he was whispering in my ear, "I wish I could sink my teeth into that beautiful throat of yours—" I clamped around his thrusting digits at his words— "I want to drink so thoroughly from you as you come for me." My muscles were tightening, straining painfully as my orgasm quickly approached— "Soon, mi diletta. Soon, I will have your blood—" I cried out as he tormented me in the most delicious way— "Deliziarsi per me, mia cocca! Come for me, cara," he purred, his tongue lapping the flesh where my blood has risen to just below the surface of my skin. "Come, bella mia."

  I shattered in pure ecstasy, my body spasming beneath him as I rode out the waves of pleasure. While my vision did not burst with stars like in stories I had read, sweet God almighty, I felt like I had died and gone to heaven and I did not want to come back!

  I was not quite sure how long I had lain with my knees bent and a stupid grin on my face, but when the world came back into focus, I found a pair of glittering eyes watching me with utter triumph and a pair of lips curled into the smuggest smirk that I had ever seen in my life. A part of me wanted to say something to wipe that grin right off his face, but he looked so pleased with himself that I knew I could not deny him that—hell, he had every damn right to be smug! I stretched and smiled up at him. "Do I have to go to school today? I think I could learn a lot more here!"

  "Perdonami, bella mia," he murmured to me, "but I am afraid you must. At least if you want to pass with such glowing marks as your summer,” he teased me about the fact I had made all As after so much fretting. He gave me a gentle nudge toward the edge of the bed and chuckled when I scowled at him.

  "You keep me from some of my basic needs with an Earth-shattering orgasm, and now that your male pride has something to gloat about, you're trying to get rid me," I ribbed back, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. "You do realize that type of behavior is incredibly rude, right?" I stuck my tongue out at him before bouncing off the bed as his laughter filled the room and strutted into the bathroom to begin my morning routine.

  When I was finished, I quickly dressed in jeans and a black shirt, making sure to wrap a matching nearly-sheer black scarf securely around my neck, and traipsed downstairs—miraculously not falling in my haste—to find a plate of French toast and strawberries. Still feeling rather giddy, I all but skipped into his arms and giggled happily when he buried his face in my blow-dried hair and purred for me.

  He chortled before pulling away and directed me to the table. "You really enjoy that sound, do you not?"

  I only grinned before cutting my toast and placing the first piece on my tongue. It was marvelous, and my eyes grew lax as the sweet flavor exploded on my tongue. When I opened my eyelids again, Simon was looking at me with an inscrutable expression. “What is it?” I demanded with a smile, and licked my lips, thinking that I might have a bit of food sticking to the outside of my mouth.

  “I enjoy watching you eat,” Simon admitted. “I will miss it, when—”

  “When you change me,” I said softly. We had discussed it before in passing, but it was small moments such as those when it really became evident what all I was planning to give up. I reached out to place a hand on his forearm; he covered mine with his own. “When… when do you plan to change me, Simon?” I asked him.

  He looked away, and I could see his eyes cataloging the mementos of my life through the pictures on the fridge door, the small bits and bobs and trappings of my humanity and family evident in the room and what he could see of the living area beyond. The worry and sadness in his voice when he spoke next nearly broke my heart; it was rather painful to hear him whisper, "If you wished to stay human for your family, cara mia, I would never beg you to change for my sake. I do not wish you to live eternity with me if you would be forever broken over their loss. It would be cruel for me to ask that of you."

  "Simon," I said, "I won't lie and say that the idea of losin
g my father doesn’t hurt. It's sad knowing that I won't get to see him after I'm changed, but from what I have already experienced, there is absolutely no way that I could give you up, live a life without being yours for eternity. Just being separated from you for a few hours is horrible. I couldn't live my life with that kind of pain, and I certainly could not let you live forever feeling that separation." I frowned when he whispered ‘I wouldn't’, understanding that he would take his life. "I couldn't let you do that, Simon. I cannot imagine a world without you in it, and I can't imagine my life ever feeling complete without being part of yours for eternity."

  "Then if you wish to be with me for eternity—"

  "I do."

  I could hear the smile in his voice when he finished, "I would give you several years to enjoy your family and your life. It does not have to be sudden. There will be time to say goodbye and to experience anything you might wish to experience with your friends. If you wish to wait a few years more, I would gladly give you the time, mia cocca."

  “I’d like to graduate,” I said, “with Brie. Perhaps spend a little while making use of my degree. Would you be willing to wait until I was twenty-five?"

  "Of course, Sofia," he purred, combing my hair with his fingers in the most soothing way.

  We tarried only a little while longer. I ate the remainder of my breakfast as we chatted of inconsequential things—what he thought of his crop of new students, what I thought my workload might be like throughout the fall. It was quietly domestic, and the thought that I could have moments like those for years and years to come made the corners of my mouth turn up into a smile.

  When I was done, Simon washed the dishes while I gathered my notebooks into my bag and retrieved my phone from the charger. Soon I was locking the door behind me and being walked to my car. There was shade enough for him to press me back against the door, his arms between me and the uncomfortable metal frame as he bent to press a firm, possessive kiss to my lips.

  “I’ll see you at lunch, cara mia,” he promised me.

  I touched the tip of my finger to my swollen lips as he walked away. “Yes,” I breathed. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

  Traffic was surprisingly light, so I was able to keep his car more or less in sight as we both drove to the university. And thanks to some bit of good luck, I was able to park my car right beside the building I needed to enter, instead of further down the lot.

  That was about the time that my luck started to run out.

  Brie was waiting for me outside of Kauffman Hall; she should have been on the other side of the quad. “What’s up?” I inquired as I drew closer. She shook her head and firmly laced her arm through mine to escort me into the building. “My protector,” I teased her lightly.

  "Well, you're going to need it today," she whispered. "Mads is pissed! I’m not sure what crawled up her ass and died, but she’s on a rampage, and you and I both know her target is going to be you. She’s mad as hell!”

  "Good," I said blithely. "She can go there for all I care!"

  Brie laughed. "Wow. She must have really pissed you off good then. What was it this time?"

  "Nothing yet,” I muttered. “Just the thought of dealing with her is enough to take my morning down a notch," I grumbled under my breath.

  We approached the door to my classroom, and I slowed down. “Just came by to warn you,” Brie said. “Gotta run!”

  Brie was right. Despite the constant stream of texts between Simon and myself, including one that said he would be waiting for me in the parking lot at lunch, I was becoming more and more uncomfortable, not only with being physically separated from my mate, but from the horridly vengeful looks that Madison kept giving me. Even Jillian, one of her surprisingly small posse, was glaring at me with jealousy and aversion in her eyes, but there was the barest trace of worry in them, which made me extremely apprehensive about whatever Mads was planning.

  I was surprised that I made it to lunch without being tripped, kicked or some other puerile gesture, but from the moment I made it to my second class with Madison only a few inches behind me every step of the way down the hallway, I knew that getting away to see Simon for our lunch would be difficult. The tension that had been rising throughout my first class was only ratcheting up through the second one, and I could almost feel my entire being vibrating with barely suppressed rage. I made a mental note to ask Simon what he felt like when extremely angry, because no matter how furious I’d ever become with Madison, or anyone for that matter, I never remembered it feeling so physically.

  As we left the second lecture, I lifted my cell, without dialing, and mumbled under my breath, knowing the incubus would probably hear me no matter where on the campus he was. “It might take me a few minutes. Madison is being… Madison.”

  I hit the third speed dial number—Brie’s number—without looking, and smiled when she picked up. “I need your help.”

  Brianna was so good, I never had to explain what it was I wanted.

  “Head to my building,” she responded. “It’s pretty crowded today, because we had a guest speaker and everyone wants to talk to her. I won’t even look for you. Just dodge and weave, and I’ll catch her while you slip in the front of Wellesley and out the side exit. It’s a long trek around, but it’s better than dealing with her, I guess.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What’re friends for?” Pride, a touch of smugness and amusement were thick in her voice. “Just know you owe me some yummy details about whatever dirty thing it was you did last.”

  “Um, no,” I laughed. “I’ll make you a deal though, and you can join us for Italian next time we have lunch.”

  “Real Italian or psuedo-Italian?”

  “It’ll be real this time. God, you’re almost as bad as Dad.” By then, I’d made it to the front of the building and inside the heavy doors—another potential area to slow her down with—and could just make out the distinct red spikes among the crush of bodies. “I don’t know if you see us, but she should be about twenty feet behind me.” I paused, taking in all the people before I plunged in. “And good God, you weren’t kidding! Thank you again for this.”

  “Not a problem, but I’m hanging up now.”

  I bumped into a few people on purpose, knowing it tended to cause a stall on both ends. However, being prepared for them, I recovered more quickly, disappearing deeper into the throng while they took a few more seconds to regain their original bearings.

  Just as I approached Brie, I dropped my head, dancing around her as she spun, effectively looking as if she were catching me to talk. However, instead of actually stopping me, she stayed put for a few seconds. Knowing her, she’d turn after a few moments and place herself right next to someone to form some unsuspecting human barricade while she waited to snag Madison in her grasp.

  God bless my brilliant, if not sometimes underhanded, friend!

  When I approached the car, I didn’t see any sign of my lover and assumed he was already in the driver’s seat, keeping his time in the sun to a minimum.

  Before the Treviso clan, I’d always believed the stories that vampires slept during the day, but I’d quickly learned that like almost every other aspect of vampirism, the differences in sleep patterns varied between breeds and individual immortals.

  Apparently, the gargoyle-esque vetalas, which required the most rest, preferred sleeping during the day and spent a good deal of their nights ‘haunting’ cemeteries. Eidolons, the epitome of psychic vampire, didn’t have to worry about the sun at all, as they simply took possession of the recently deceased for a few days before moving onto a new host. Breeds like those of the incubi and succubi needed only a couple of hours every day or two, so they tended to rest at night so they could be up and active with the rest of humanity during daylight hours.

  I asked Simon once about how long he could stay in direct sunlight, and he explained his species could remain outside about five minutes before the effects became ‘painfully obvious’ and about ten to fifteen before there w
as extensive damage. Within half an hour, there was no hope for them, having been ‘cooked’ to the state of ash.

  He then went on to explain why even in the summer, he wore a suit jacket outside and typically remained an hour or two longer than his colleagues—it was to ensure any student who needed to speak with him could without him being trapped outside for a lengthy discussion. I was also aware of the fact that his office had no windows to the outside, nor did his classroom, and that he carefully managed to avoid the glass doors and windows throughout the college. It made me wonder why he bothered teaching day classes at all.

  Even as I thought about how careful he had to be while passing from building to vehicle and back, he slipped out of the car and made his way around to the passenger side to open the door for me.

  Normally, I responded to this action with a smile, but the tense look on his face kept me from doing so today. I suddenly felt nauseated, worry coiling itself deep in my gut. “What’s wrong?”

  To my horror, he said the four worst words ever uttered in history. “We need to talk.”

  FOUR

  My heart sank to my feet.

  We need to talk.

  No matter what the situation, those four words were never good. Whether it was about love and relationships, a friend or loved one being in the hospital… It didn’t matter. ‘We need to talk’ was the sibling of ‘There’s something I need to tell you’ and the parent of ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ It was the worst of the worst, an omen of doom, and in my personal experience, ‘we need to talk’ meant one of two things: death and breakups. I had heard the former and said the latter, so I considered myself well versed in that particular phrase.

  He waited until we were both settled in the car before speaking. “Stop panicking.” Just as I opened my mouth to deny his words, he cut me off. “Your heart rate has increased, from the sound of it, from its normal seventy-two per minute to… ninety-two if I quadruple it from the last fifteen seconds. Your breathing has doubled, and if that were not enough, I can smell the fear pouring off of you.”