In the Company of Vampires

Chapter 12

Some nine hours later I stared at a little beam of sunlight that had penetrated the blinds, falling with golden cheer onto the spot on the bed next to me. I leaned forward, unable to keep from sniffing the sunshine. It smelled like Ben. My toes curled happily.

Are you still awake? I asked softly, just in case he had gone to sleep. He’d woken me up a short time before to tell me he was returning to Naomi’s trailer before the sun came fully up.

Yes. You’re not still angry with me?

No. I was for a bit when you insisted you had to go back to Naomi, but I understand, Ben, I really do. I’m sorry I called you a ratty pustule on the buttocks of a slug.

Your apology is accepted.

And I’m sorry I threw that fire extinguisher at you. You’re sure the lump on your forehead has gone down?

Yes. You have remarkably good aim considering the bulkiness of the weapon you wielded.

And I much regret telling you I never wanted to see you again, and that you could rot in the scummiest part of the underworld, eaten by plagued rats and cockroaches. I didn’t mean that.

I know you didn’t. For which I am truly thankful.

I do miss you, though.

I miss you too, love.

I smiled at the word. Oh, I knew full well it was used as a term of endearment and not a declaration of his emotions, but it still made me feel cherished. You sound kind of distracted. What are you doing?

Waiting for Naomi to finish ranting at me so I can take a shower and go to bed.

She’s yelling? I smiled with satisfaction. Because you were out with me all night?

I didn’t tell her I was with you. I told her I was confused and conflicted by your presence. She just threatened to have you turned into a water vole.

I hope you discouraged that.

I haven’t had the chance to say a word yet. She’s too busy screaming at me.

Poor little Ben, I said with mock sympathy. Left one pissed-off girlfriend, only to find your other girlfriend is just as angry. I feel for you.

She’s not my girlfriend, and that statement would carry a little more weight if you weren’t thinking all sorts of smug thoughts about me getting my just deserts. Ah, at last.

At last?

She stormed off to go into town to pick up breakfast. Now I can have a shower and try to get some sleep before she returns to harangue me again.

I sat up straight in bed. You’re going to take a shower? Right now?

Yes.

I almost started drooling at the thought. An idea popped into my head, one so audacious I almost couldn’t believe it. I leaped from the bed and snatched up a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.

Why do you ask? Did you wish for me to touch myself again and allow you to see? He flooded my head with the sensations he was feeling as he stepped into the small shower in Naomi’s trailer. Warm water cascaded down his naked self, his hands running down his chest and belly until he was cupping himself.

I was out of the trailer and across the common area before he could do more than ask, Did you want me to do this?

I moaned under my breath as he swirled soap around his chest.

“Good morning, Fran. Isn’t it a lovely day?” Tallulah’s voice wormed its way into the dense haze of lust that filled my mind at the feeling of Ben stroking his wet, soapy chest, bringing me to a halt. I whimpered.

“What was that, dear?” she frowned at me.

“Ben. Shower. Soap,” I said, somewhat desperately.

“Ben needs soap? How very odd.”

“No. He’s in the shower. Right now.” I clutched Tallulah’s arms as Ben soaped up his rear. “Oh dear goddess. He’s all wet. Completely and utterly wet!”

“One generally gets that way in the shower.”

Do you wish it was your fingers touching me? Ben asked as he stroked soap onto his long legs.

“Calf muscles,” I gasped, whimpering once again. “Thighs!”

She looked at me oddly for a moment, then gave a quick nod. “Yes, I see. Go to him, my dear. I believe you have made the right choice.”

“Slick, soapy chest!” I babbled and then realized she’d given me her blessing. I grinned and ran to Naomi’s door, opening it cautiously to make sure she really had left.

The room was empty, but the sound of running water had me stripping off my clothing and hurrying to the narrow door that led to the tiny shower.

Or perhaps you wish for me to do this? His fingers wrapped around his penis, partially erect, and growing more interested in every passing moment.

I’d rather you let me do that, I told him.

I’d rather you would, as well, but since you can’t—

I jerked open the shower door, the warm mistiness of the environment enveloping me as Ben, startled, spun around to face me. “Oh, I think I can.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” He gave a surprised jerk, his dark hair slicked back from his forehead, warm water and steam cascading around him. “Naomi could be back at any minute.”

The shower wasn’t large, but it was big enough for the two of us. Barely.

“I know. I figure it takes at least fifteen minutes to get to town and back.” Joining him in the shower pretty much meant I was smashed up against him, a fact I wasn’t going to protest at all. I closed the shower door, avoided hitting the showerhead, and wrapped my arms around the slippery, soapy Ben.

“This is not at all wise,” he started to say, but I stopped him by kissing him, and rubbing my demanding breasts against his chest. “Naomi—”

“—isn’t here, and I am, and we have fifteen minutes, so let’s make the most of it. Are you a dirty boy? Do I need to soap you up?”

Ben frowned, annoyance and passion mingling in his eyes, which were darkening with each passing second. “I am not dirty, nor a boy—” He stiffened when I slid my hands from his chest to his penis. “Perhaps I am a little dirty. Would you like some soap?”

“Oh, yes,” I purred, accepting the sea sponge that was lathered with a spicy-scented soap. With my back to the showerhead, I blocked most of the water, which allowed me to swirl the sponge down his chest and belly, to his groin. Although I wouldn’t have minded soaping all of him up, I was conscious of the need to be quick, and went straight for pay dirt. So to speak.

Ben splayed against the back of the shower, his eyes closed as I lathered him up, spreading my fingers through the slick hair, exploring the length of his quickly growing penis and accompanying scenery. He groaned as I found a tempo that pleased him, his hips making little thrusts, sending his slippery length through my hands.

“This is so much better than you doing it,” I said, water cascading down me. I watched him move in my grasp, gently rubbing the underside, as I understood men liked. “I’ve wanted to do this ever since you let me see you the first time.”

Ben said something in another language, then gave a little head shake and returned to English. “That’s an understatement. You said you’re double-jointed?”

“Yes.” I was fascinated by the feel and sight of his arousal, wanting to touch it in all sorts of ways, wanting to stroke and lick and kiss all the rest of him, too. Confined in a small space as we were, however, I would have to content myself with just indulging in some tactile pleasure.

“Good. Put your arms around my shoulders.”

“Huh?” I looked up. “You don’t want me to give you a soapy hand job?”

“Oh, I do, but I think if we’re fast, there’s time for more.”

“More? You don’t mean—”

He bent slightly, grasping me around the waist and hoisting me up. “Legs around mine,” he said, slipping his hands down to my butt to pull me up a little higher before pressing me against the wall.

“Sun and stars, Ben! You don’t mean—hoo!” He lunged forward, his penis sliding along my private parts. “In the shower? Standing? Oh, you missed, just a smidgen to the left. Merciful goddess, I didn’t know we could do this. Am I too heavy for you? Am I hurting you? Should I maybe put one leg down to take some of my weight off your back? No, you missed again, a little higher, I think. Oh! No, not quite. Close but no banana.”

“Francesca,” Ben said through what seemed to be gritted teeth as he lunged somewhat wildly now, his aim, given the fact that we were now both soapy and wet, not as good as could be hoped for.

“What?”

“Too much talking, not enough helping me.”

“Oh.” I could help? I released one arm from where I’d been clutching his shoulders. He moved his hips back slightly so I could snake my hand down between us, positioning him where he would be assured success. “Sorry. I’m new to this.”

“Believe me, I’m well aware of that,” he said, groaning again as he sank into my welcoming flesh. “And no, not because you’re doing it wrong. You’re very tight, Francesca. So tight it makes my head spin. No, don’t try to help. Just tilt your hips up slightly . . . Ahhh.”

It was my turn to moan in pleasure as our bodies moved together despite the awkward position and confined space (and my concern that holding me up would give Ben a hernia).

“Dark Ones . . . don’t get . . . hernias . . . ,” he grunted, his voice and breath rasping in my ear as I gave myself up to the pleasure of his warm, wet body sliding against and inside mine. I felt the need in him for more, to take blood from me, to join us together in a way unique to his kind, and for a moment, I thought about just doing it.

His mouth burned on my wet shoulder.

If you want to—I started to say.

To do so would mean we were Joined forever. He turned his head, his jaw tightening as he leashed the almost overwhelming urge to drink from me. I will not force it upon you.

Inner Fran pointed out that there wasn’t any force involved, but I said nothing, just gasped out his name as my climax claimed me.

“That may have been fast, but it will remain in my memories as a high point of my sexual experience,” I said a few minutes later, as Ben let my legs go, his chest heaving against mine, the water, now tepid and heading for cold, pouring over us both. The need for him to feed from me still rode him hot and hard, but he controlled it with a desperation that touched me deeply.

He kissed me. “I think it’s safe to say there will be many others to join that one.” He turned off the water, which was now starting to get uncomfortably cold. “We must get you dressed quickly. I will take you back to your mother’s—”

The shower vibrated with the noise and force of the trailer door banging. I widened my eyes as Ben swore.

“Stay here. I will get her out of the trailer,” he growled.

He opened the door the bare minimum, stalking out of the shower. Stark naked, I couldn’t help notice. Through the thin walls of the shower I could hear Naomi haranguing him. Or at least I assumed she was—she spoke in French, a language I didn’t understand beyond a few tourist phrases.

I stood there for a moment, indecision gripping me as Ben’s deep rumble danced around Naomi’s higher, strident screech. Inner Fran opted to stay in the shower until the coast was clear, but as she should have known, I’ve never been one to be told what to do. At a particularly vicious-sounding tirade from Naomi, I opened up the shower door and calmly grabbed my sweatpants and T-shirt, pulling them on despite being wet.

Naomi had Ben backed almost to the bedroom. She spun around at the sound of my movements, her face going from irritated to furious at the sight of me. Ben glowered behind her. I was pleased to see that he’d managed to don a pair of jeans. “You!” Naomi screamed, her hands fisted.

“You have a really big capacity water tank. I’m going to tell my mother to get one. Makes taking a long shower really nice,” I said before smiling over her head at Ben, blowing him a kiss. “Later.”

I think Naomi might have tried to jump me as I left, because I heard her squawk as if Ben had grabbed her to keep her from attacking. She was clearly furious, but I didn’t let that bother me.

“She has no idea about what a stupid idea it is to mess with a Beloved,” I growled to myself as I returned to my mother’s trailer, my fingernails once again digging into my palms.

“You have decided to Join with the Dark One?” a voice asked as I passed one of the chaise longues set out in the common area.

Isleif lay sunning himself in what looked like a garment better suited to a beach in Rio. It was more or less a pouch into which he’d stuffed his genitals. I gaped at him for a few seconds, wondering if there was anything on his backside, quickly deciding I really didn’t want to know.

“No, I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet.” I hesitated, then sat down on the lounge next to his. “Things are a bit confusing.”

“You are wet.” He handed me a towel, which I used to towel off my thankfully short hair. “And confused? That sounds like you need advice. We are most good with advice. We will counsel you. Eirik! Finnvid!” He gave a deep battle cry. “The goddess needs advice.”

Eirik emerged from my mother’s trailer, a bowl of granola in one hand, a half-eaten banana in the other. “Advice? Did you say advice?”

“Aye, the goddess is having man trouble.”

“No, I’m not. I don’t need advice. I can work things out on my own, although it is very considerate of you all to want to help me.” I didn’t point out that I noticed they’d dropped the title of virgin, feeling the least said about that, the better.

The door to Imogen’s trailer was flung open, and a naked Finnvid stood in the doorway, grasping either side of the doorframe. “The goddess needs us?”

An arm reached across him, stroking his chest and the biceps of one arm. Finnvid looked to the side, grinned, and allowed the arm to pull him out of view, thankfully shutting the door behind him.

“There are just some sights that I really wish I could expunge from my memory,” I said softly, watching with foreboding as Eirik set his breakfast on Isleif before pulling over a chair.

“What is it the goddess needs help with? The Dark One?” he asked, reclaiming his bowl, but losing his banana to Isleif’s seemingly never-ending hunger. This morning, Eirik was clad in a pair of green and gold paisley men’s silk boxer shorts, and a sleeveless T-shirt promoting the local opera competition.

“You’re not planning on wearing that outfit in public, are you?” I asked, distracted by the thought of him wandering around in his underwear.

Eirik looked surprised. “Aye. I bought the short breeches yesterday. They’re silk. The sales slave said that was most desired by women.”

“They’re also underwear, Eirik.”

He blinked at me.

“I don’t know the word for Viking underwear, but it’s something you wear under your clothes, not in place of them. You can’t wear them around town. It’s too impolite.”

“I am a Viking. I do not care for such things as politeness,” he said scornfully. “Besides, my arse and rod are covered.”

“Which is more than I can say for some people’s outfits,” I murmured, sliding Isleif a look. He grinned and adjusted his pouch. Hastily, I averted my eyes, only to have my gaze fall on Eirik.

“They may be covered when you’re walking around, but when you sit, they . . . er . . . gape open.”

Eirik looked down at his crotch. The fly of the shorts was indeed gaping open, allowing the casual passerby to get an eyeful. “Aye, so they do. Handy, that, don’t you think?”

I ran my hands through my damp hair, trying to fluff it up so I wouldn’t look like a wet seal. “Moving on, let’s talk about today’s plan. I’m not quite sure what we should be doing next to find—”

“First,” Eirik interrupted, burping and setting down his now empty bowl. “We will deal with your Dark One problems.”

“I don’t have problems—”

“Was he too rough with you when he bedded you? Were you concerned because you bled?”

“No, that’s not it at all—”

“All virgins bleed, goddess. It is the way of things. One of my wives, the second, I think, was convinced I had torn her up inside, but it was just her maidenhead. Took her three weeks before she’d let me bed her again, and although I don’t approve of you allowing the Dark One to rut with you, you have chosen to do so, and thus you should not keep him from your bed for three weeks because of a little maidenhead blood.”

“No, she shouldn’t,” Isleif agreed. “It’s hard on a man, that sort of a wait. Makes your stones ache.”

“Honest, there’s nothing I need advice about concerning sex—”

“Aye, it does.” Eirik fixed me with a stern look. “A man’s stones are not to be trifled with, goddess. If you insist on bedding the Dark One, then you must let him do so whenever he desires. Anything else would be cruel.”

I sighed. They were going to advise me whether I wanted it or not. Going with the attitude of the quicker it was over, the faster we could move on to important things, I said, “Right. Let him have sex whenever he wants. Don’t fuss over blood. Anything else?”

Isleif looked thoughtful. Eirik frowned at the empty bowl. “If he wishes to do unnatural things to you, allow it. It is not as unnatural as you think.”

“What sort of unnatural things?” I asked, picturing Isleif’s son-in-law with his sheep.

Eirik cleared his throat and leaned toward me, speaking in a confidential tone. “He may wish to put his mouth on your woman’s parts. Some men enjoy that. Others refuse. I, myself, find it entertaining to make a woman squirm with pleasure, so if your Dark One wishes to do so, you must allow him. It would wound his pride if you were to refuse.”

I bit back the laughter that wanted desperately to burst forth. “Okay. I won’t make a fuss if he wants to indulge in oral sex. Now, if you’ve—”

“And if he starts talking about how pretty a particular ewe is, call us. We know just what to do,” Isleif added with dark meaning.

A little chirp of laughter escaped, but I managed to keep the rest of it contained. “I will definitely let you know if Ben suddenly falls in love with a barnyard animal. I hate to change this fascinating subject, but it’s already almost noon, and we really need to get cracking.”

Naomi chose that moment to storm out of her trailer, shooting me a glare that probably would have dropped a horse on the spot, before marching off to her car.

I thought about seeing if Ben was all right.

I am fine. Just tired. I am going to sleep for a bit. What are your plans for the next few hours?

I need to find the Vikingahärta. Any ideas of where I should look?

None, I’m afraid. I will help you if you like.

I was conscious of his hunger and exhaustion. Evidently Naomi hadn’t fed him. That pleased me to no end until I realized that Ben was the one who would suffer for me pissing her off. That’s okay. You rest up for a bit. Imogen offered to help, and I have the Vikings.

He thought something extremely unflattering to the Vikings, then inquired in a cautious manner, If I ask you if you will be all right without me, will you lecture me?

Not now. Later, perhaps. I can feel how tired you are. Did Naomi rip you a new one?

Just about.

I’m sorry, Ben. I shouldn’t have taunted her that way. Are you very hungry?

Not terribly. I can feed from Imogen if I must.

A little pain inside me burst into being at the thought of him feeding from others.

Naomi demanded that I attend the tyro tonight. I told her I would. That seemed to keep her from wanting to smite you on the spot.

I said nothing, but thought a great deal to myself. Sleep well, Ben.

I will dream of you. And the shower.

“Er . . . what were we saying?” I suddenly realized both Vikings were staring at me. “Oh! Today’s plans.” I slumped back against the lounge. “I’m at my wit’s end what to do. We don’t have the Vikingahärta, and I don’t have the least idea of where to even start looking for it. Or the lich who might have taken it.”

“You are a goddess,” Eirik said, shrugging. “You will use your goddess powers and tell us what we must do to find the Vikingahärta.”

“I’m not really a goddess, and I don’t have any . . .” I stopped, a light dawning in what passed for my brain. I looked at my hands. They were bare because I’d been with Ben, which meant I had been very careful not to touch anything I didn’t absolutely have to. I’d even used my T-shirt wrapped around my hand to open Naomi’s trailer door. “I wonder if I could.”

“Could what?” Isleif asked, flipping the long braids of his beard over each shoulder before donning a pair of sunglasses and squirting suntan oil on his belly.

“I wonder if I could touchy-feely my way to finding the guy who took the Vikingahärta.” I turned and looked speculatively at Imogen’s trailer.

“You are a goddess,” Eirik repeated, shooing me off the chaise so he could lie on it. He peeled off his shirt and used Isleif’s suntan lotion on his chest and arms.

“Eirik!” I said sternly.

“Aye?”

I pointed at his crotch, where the silk boxers were once again gaping in a manner that let everyone see clearly everything he’d been born with.

“Ah.” He yanked the boxers down and applied suntan lotion to his penis before pulling them back up. “It warms my heart to know you’re so concerned for the well-being of my rod, goddess. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to rut with me rather than the Dark One?”

“Quite sure, and that’s not what I meant for you to do.” His forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Oh, never mind. You guys stay here while I go talk to Imogen.”

“Finnvid is no doubt plowing her field, but he won’t mind if you watch,” Isleif called after me, pulling out an iPod. “He’s always been fond of audiences.”