Mate With Me Page 2

  There was a time, long ago, when Damien and his brethren had made it their sole mission in life to keep his city safe from the insanity driven rogues Isabella sent to wreak havoc among the innocent in constant retaliation for him escaping the imprisoned life she thought he should be grateful for and for rescuing his brethren from suffering the same fate. It had taken him over fifty years, but thankfully he and Jacob had managed to rid the world of her evil reign in 1865. After checking Jon and Luc for the telltale mark that labeled them among the few men who could survive as a vampire longer than a year without going mad and committing suicide and finding the crescent shaped wine colored mark on both brothers right palm, he and Jacob brought them to the plantation to heal and help them through their transition as well as celebrate Isabelle’s demise with the rest of his brethren.

  “This madness never ceases to amaze me,” Jacob said as they maneuvered through the throng of party goers, the majority of them dressed in the carnival’s colors of purple, gold and green. A young woman, no more than eighteen or nineteen, flashed her bare breasts and received a string of beads for her exhibitionism, a common sight during the revelry even though thinking this act was based on tradition was a complete misconception. “A week from now those pretty breasts are going to be splashed on the internet and she will have had plenty of time to sober up.”

  Damien shrugged as he glared at a drunken would be pickpocket and sent him scurrying away empty handed. “She’s young, but old enough to know what she’s doing. Except for the embarrassment, it’s harmless fun.”

  “Do you think there’s anything we need to worry about concerning the murder in Columbus?”

  Damien had passed on Gideon’s concern to the rest of the brethren before they all departed but was still positive the murder in Columbus was the result of an evil mortal with a twisted mind and had nothing to do with them. “No, but we’ll keep an eye out anyway. I told Gideon to let me know if he discovered who killed that girl and any one of us would be happy to help mete out justice”

  “I’ll second that.” Living as long as they have, fighting in several bloody wars as well as trying to rid the world of evil whenever they could, it wasn’t anywhere near the worst atrocity they had dealt with nor would it be the last, but such a brutal death, especially for one so young and innocent, was hard to ignore. “It’s quiet tonight, as far as crime goes.”

  “It won’t stay that way.” No sooner were the words out of Damien’s mouth than a terrified scream rent the humid night air. If it wasn’t for the gift of their preternatural hearing, they never would have heard that cry for help or been able to detect the alley from which it came from. Moving in a blur of speed too fast for humans to see, both men sped down the alley from where they could hear the now muffled cries.

  Spotting a young woman struggling on the dirty, garbage strewn ground against two thugs intent on rape, Damien let loose with the rage that always consumed him when he came across a woman being brutalized. While Jacob grabbed for the punk who was laughing as he held her down, Damien gripped the man intent on ripping her clothes off by the neck and lifted him effortlessly before slamming him against the brick side of a building.

  “Get out of here. Now,” he instructed the woman who had gained her feet and stood staring with wide-eyed surprise and relief at her two rescuers. Waiting until he saw her safely exit the alley, Damien then turned his attention to his struggling captive. When the high as a kite thug kicked him in the shin, he barely felt it. Smiling, he allowed him to see his pointed incisors, let the rage filling him turn his dark brown eyes eerily red.

  “Wh…what the fuck are you?” he gasped as his red face paled.

  “Your worst fucking nightmare.” Damien lowered his head and sank his teeth into the neck he held so casually, not bothering to shield his victims mind or ease the pain of his bite. Rarely did he feed from such scum, and when he did, he made sure they weren’t filled with drugs. But he was hell bent on teaching this young man a lesson, and, as far as he was concerned, the more painful the better. When he had taken enough to weaken him but not cause any significant harm, he lifted his head and slowly licked his lips, glaring down at the pale faced, petrified would be rapist. “How does it feel to have someone invade your body against your will, take something from you you’re not willing to give?” he asked him with soft menace.

  “I-I’m sorry, let me go, please. I swear I won’t tell anyone….”

  Damien laughed before saying, “Who would believe you? Mardi Gras, the city with a heritage of voodoo beliefs, cemeteries reported to be haunted, need I go on to all the reasons why no one would heed a word you might say?”

  Knowing he was right, his fear doubled and the doped up thug lost control of his bladder, certain he was facing death. “Please...” he whispered tremulously.

  Tossing him aside, Damien sneered, “You disgust me, mortal. Remember this, I can find you anywhere, anytime. Make sure you give me no reason to teach you another lesson.”

  Damien watched him flee the dirty, dark alley along with his cohort before the last of his strength gave out and he leaned wearily against the brick building.

  “Damn it, Damien,” Jacob cursed him as he put an arm around Damien’s shoulders and let him lean on him. “That was a mild skirmish for us and a small tax on our power of speed and yet look at you, barely able to stand. Hold on, I’ll get you to Marie, even though we both know she’s not who you want or need.”

  “Don’t go there, Jacob,” Damien warned him. “Just leave me at Marie’s and hook up with Jon and Luc for the rest of the night. It’s not smart to patrol alone.”

  “Look who’s giving instructions on what’s smart,” Jacob snorted as he teleported both of them to the courtyard of Marie’s small Creole townhouse.

  The door was answered by an attractive woman in her middle fifties wearing a satin robe belted at her trim waist. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a tight chignon and her green eyes were cloudy with worry as she simply stepped back, saying, “Take him to the parlor, Jacob.”

  Damien cursed himself for his weakness then cursed Isabelle for making him this way as he collapsed in the wide, comfortable arm chair he had spent many evenings sitting in. “I’m sorry, cherie. You know I wouldn’t impose on you this way if I had a choice.”

  “I know, Damien,” Marie said sadly. There was a time, long ago when she had been young and naïve, that she had fancied herself in love with her handsome, dashing, mysterious paramour, but with age came knowledge as well as wisdom, and as the years passed and she grew older yet her benefactor did not, she realized there could never be more between them than friendship and sex. Being a voodoo priestess, she had not questioned his immortal state nor did she label him vampire with all the negative, and misguided connotations that came with the name. She had come to know, and care deeply for the man he was and saw the goodness in him where others would judge and condemn him for some of the things he had done on behalf of their well-being.

  Damien nodded at Jacob in thanks before he shimmered and left them alone. “I didn’t ask, are you alone, Marie?”

  “I am not entertaining tonight. Perhaps I sensed you would have need of me.”

  Damien never questioned her ability to know when she would be called upon to help someone. Whether it was a patron who came into her shop to buy a charm or amulet for protection or magical powder for healing or whether it was a client who was lucky enough to get into her bed, she always seemed to know when her services would be needed. With a resigned sigh, he watched Marie sink to her knees in front of him and unerringly release his straining cock into her soft hands before looking up at his face. “I do need you, but not just for sex. I hope you know how much I value your friendship.”

  Coal black hair framed his handsome face, his cheeks were lean and deeply grooved, his nose as straight as his aristocratic heritage and he had a mouth that delivered on its sensuous promise. Marie felt her heart turn over as she gave him a small smile and sultry look. “It is not friend
ship you need tonight, ma paramour. I am not who you want, but I will give you what you need.” Bending her head, she slowly took his rigid hardness into her mouth, wrapping one hand around the base of his cock when she had taken him as deep as she could. Her long-time lover had a thick, long cock and not in all the years he had been visiting her had she ever tired of it and the pleasure he gave her.

  Damien leaned over her bent head and released her hair, watching the dark brown waves cascade down her back before resting one hand on her crown as he leaned his head back, the pleasure of her mouth already noticeably increasing his strength. He tightened his hand as her moist tongue curled around his girth, stroked his length up and down, her fist tight around his base. When her free hand cupped his sac and rolled his balls as she pulled back until she could stroke over his seeping slit, it was a struggle to maintain control.

  Straining, he lifted into her descending mouth, groaning in pleasure then frustration when she brought him to peak only to release him completely and look up at him with a teasing glint in her eyes, her hand continuing where her mouth left off. “Damn it, Marie, now’s not the time to toy with me. I’m too close to the edge.” An edge he lived in constant fear of being pushed over again.

  “Oh, I beg to differ. If ever a man needed toying with it would be you,” she said as she stroked his cock slowly with her hand, covering his bulbous head and letting his seepage coat her palm before spreading it on his shaft as she moved back down. Marie shivered in arousal when he narrowed those dark chocolate eyes and his lips parted just enough for her to catch a glimpse of his sharp incisors. Her pussy wept and her nipples beaded into taut buds as she recalled the ecstasy to be found from his bite. Unfortunately, he rarely bestowed that pleasure on her, and never during sex, for reasons she had never been able to get out of him.

  “Suck me, Marie,” he demanded in a guttural tone as he pushed her head back down over his straining, seeping erection. “Then it’ll be my turn to toy with you.”

  With an erotic threatening promise like that for incentive, Marie could do naught else but comply. Engulfing him, she sucked voraciously on his hardness, bobbing her head up and down, stroking him over and over, licking the sensitive underside of his head, loving the way he jerked in her mouth, the way his come tasted as he spewed down her throat.

  His body shook with his release, pleasure erupting from his balls to explode out of his cock, strength returning in spades to his weakened muscles with each stroke of her tongue. The tight suction of her mouth drew every ounce of pleasure from his body until every drop was spent. As soon as she released his still semi-erect cock, he grabbed her waist and lifted her onto his lap as if she weighed no more than a feather.

  “Thank you, mon ami.” Kissing her swollen lips, Damien untied her robe and spread it open, revealing her lush, naked body. “You are as beautiful as the day I met you,” he complimented her as his hand cupped her full breast and lifted it to his descending mouth, suckling strongly on her tight nipple.

  Most women would be offended by being referred to as ‘my friend’ after having a man’s cock in her mouth until his come slid down her throat, but Marie had had years to come to terms with the fact that she’d never be more to Damien than a much cherished friend. And, she thought as she lifted her hips into his searching hand, she was content with that. She had more in the way of friendship accompanied with casual sex with him than most women she knew had with their spouses.

  “Touch me, Damien,” she moaned when he did nothing but lightly caress her plump folds just enough to ratchet her arousal without igniting it into the fiery pleasure she craved. “Please.”

  Releasing her nipple with a plop, he grinned wickedly down into her frustrated face. “It’s different when you’re on the receiving end of being toyed with, isn’t it?”

  “You always have to get the last word, don’t you?” she grumbled as she spread her legs wider and leaned back further over his arm, thrusting her breasts up even more.

  “Always.” Damien answered her silent invitation by once more lowering his head and nibbling on her other nipple before clamping his lips around it. With a deftness that spoke of experience, he parted her damp folds and slid two fingers into her tight sheath, unerringly rooting out her clit as her damp, silky walls instantly closed around them in an effort to keep him there. Chuckling around her nipple, he slowly pulled back, gliding his middle finger over the swollen, protruding bud, the light contact eliciting a gush of moisture.

  Marie had a full figured body, all soft curves and lush fullness, a body that never failed to harden his cock despite the now twenty year gap in their ages. Even though Damien had been on this earth for two hundred and thirty five years, he had never reached his thirty-sixth birthday. Watching people he cared about grow old and die was one of the hardest things about his never-ending existence.

  Refusing to dwell on what couldn’t be changed, he thrust his fingers back into her pussy, stroking her warm, slick walls as his thumb teased and tormented her clit until she was writhing on his lap with uncontrollable lust. “Come for me, Marie,” he demanded, his gaze hot as they both looked down where he was finger fucking her with now hard, deep plunges, the dampness coating his fingers evidence of her arousal.

  Marie threw her head back and cried out as she splintered apart, grinding her hips up against his palm, her hands clasping his midnight head as he once again bent to her breasts. Yes, she swore over and over as pleasure rippled up from her pussy to encompass her whole body.

  Chapter Two

  Damien stood on Marie’s small, upper balcony off the sitting room, his hands wrapped around the ornate iron railing. Her townhouse was located several blocks from the French Quarter, but he could easily hear the party revelry still going on even though it was almost dawn. Longevity has given him the ability to tolerate the early morning hours and to go out at dusk, so he didn’t need to return to the plantation any time soon, but he knew the longer he dallied the more tempted he would be to look in on Abrielle, a temptation that was getting harder and harder to ignore.

  When he had come across a big brute of a man hauling a small, malnourished, terrified eight-year old girl toward an alley that Damien knew had a back door entrance to a seedy bar, he had immediately stepped in. After pinning the man against the wall, he had no trouble getting him to talk, to tell him how he planned to sell his now orphaned niece to a white slaver he was well acquainted with. Damien had left him breathing, temporarily, while he took the bedraggled child to his home and left her in a deep sleep while he returned to that alley and made sure her uncle and the man who liked to buy and sell little girls never had a chance to harm another child. He did not take killing lightly, nor did he kill indiscriminately, but when it was justified he didn’t hesitate or lose any sleep over his actions.

  Luckily, Gideon and Ava had just held their mating ceremony and were still living at the plantation and Ava was more than happy to care for her during the day when the rest of the household was dead asleep. Being a social worker, she also offered to start searching for a permanent home for the neglected child. But upon awakening each evening, Damien found himself anxious to check on his new charge, needing to reassure himself that she was safe and happy. For two months he spent his evenings with Abrielle, naming her after his French grandmother when he discovered she either didn’t know her name or no one ever bothered to give her one. He played games with her, took her for nighttime swims in his pool and lavished her with toys, clothes and food. It surprised the entire household how easily she adapted to them and her new surroundings and Damien wasn’t the only one who would melt and give her whatever she wanted when she turned those baby blue eyes on him.

  Sending her to the childless couple Ava had found had been the hardest thing he had ever done, so hard in fact, he had refused to relinquish her completely. Making visitation rights a stipulation for the adoption, he was able to still see her and watch her grow into a beautiful, talented young woman. But it wasn't until he picked her up to take
her out for her twenty-fifth birthday and the telltale birthmark on his palm began to throb, his cock hardening in response to her nearness for the first time, that he realized she was his mate.

  “You are thinking of her, yes?” Marie stood next to him at the balcony and laid her small, soft hand over his larger one. “Why do you do this to yourself? Go to her,” she urged even though she knew once he did he would no longer come to her for anything except friendship. But that was enough if it meant he was finally happy.

  “I lost control and did a terrible thing once, Marie. I was newly turned and Isabelle tricked me, but that doesn’t excuse my actions, or lessen the consequences. I have watched my brethren with their mates, seen firsthand how sex with your chosen one makes you insane with lust, and they say, love. They’ve remarked on pleasure so intense, it would make a mortal lose all control. I won’t risk being as weak as a mortal, as I once was, and especially not with Abby.”

  “I do not believe whatever happened was your fault. I know you, Damien. New Orleans has been labeled Sin City for good reason, yet you are out every night protecting those who are either too stupid or too foolish to stay out of bad situations. Mortals, as you sneeringly like to call us, who often give you no thanks for helping them. The man who fought so righteously for the freedom of others, and died for his efforts, could not have deliberately hurt an innocent.”

  Damien smiled down into her earnest face. Tiny lines bracketed her eyes, but they were the only signs of her age. At fifty-five, she was still a beautiful, desirable woman, one who could still stir his lust with just a look. “You have always looked at me with rose-colored glasses, Marie. And I have let you. But, make no mistake; I am capable of great wrong doing.”

  “As we all are. I love you, Damien, and your melancholy saddens me. Go to your chosen one and take the happiness you know awaits you with her.”

  “If you love me, why are you pushing me towards another woman?” he asked dryly.