about, kitty cat?”
“Creed.”
“Wild-haired sex kitten?”
“Watch it, pale vampire dude.” She reached behind and over her
hip and gripped his soft penis, tightly.
“All right, I’m sorry,” he quickly said. “No more teasing.”
She released him. “You start that, and I’ll have to call you
longtooth.”
“My teeth are long.” He bit into her shoulder, not breaking
skin, though she didn’t mind when he did, rarely, pierce her flesh. “On
occasion.”
They’d been forced to marry in a match arranged by the Council,
a group that oversaw the paranormal nations. The marriage had been a means to
bring together the opposing breeds and begin peace talks. It had worked to the
extent that some vampire tribes had gained respect from a few packs, but Blu
wasn’t so foolish to believe either breed would ever drop their prejudices and
embrace the other graciously.
Surprisingly to both of them, they had fallen in love, and the
marriage could be counted a success. And after she’d learned to trust her
vampire husband—who had once slain werewolves in medieval times—Blu had allowed
him to bite her. With Creed’s bite, they had bonded in a way vampires bonded.
Yet werewolves bitten by a vampire almost always developed an unnatural blood
hunger. That had not happened to her yet, for which she was thankful. Probably
because he had bitten her only a dozen times in a few years. She couldn’t fathom
drinking blood for pleasure.
“Deep thoughts?” he wondered, tugging a sheet corner to wipe
off her chest. The polite Frenchman to the core, he was warrior, lover and
doting husband, all rolled into one fine package.
Deep brown eyes she could stare into forever looked suddenly
worried in the soft glow from the bedside lamp. She’d mentioned her deep thoughts casually before, but had never dared say
how much those thoughts haunted her of late. They’d been married two years. She
adored her husband. To know she would enjoy centuries with him thrilled her
beyond measure.
But something was missing. An innate, visceral call to the
maternal.
“I want to have your children,” she whispered, feeling as if
the confession was so sacred she could only share it with him, and only in quiet
tones. “I wish there was a way, Creed.”
Feeling the tender, yet insistent, tug in her chest, she
blinked, and Creed traced the tear below her eye.
“If I could make it so, I would, lover mine. I hate seeing you
unhappy.”
“I’m never unhappy with you. It’s…well, you lying beside me
right now? I was thinking how we’re like pieces of a puzzle perfectly fit. Yet a
piece of me is missing, maybe fallen on the floor somewhere, and I can’t seem to
find it.”
He kissed her chin, her lips, her eyelids. The reverent
stillness allowed her to feel his heartbeats against her chest. If they embraced
long enough their heartbeats would synch.
“Wolves are, by nature, family-centric,” she said, pressing her
palm over his beating heart. “I want to make babies with you, lover. Have a
pack.”
“What if they were vampire babies?”
“Do you think that matters to me? Honestly?”
“No. The whole hating the vamps thing is not within your
nature. At least, not any more.”
“I could never hate you. Or any child I had that might have to
drink blood to survive. Hell, if I can’t have a pack, I’ll have a tribe! But our
children could be wolves.”
“Or half breeds,” he said. “I would love a child too. I crave
innocence. The wonder of youth.”
Blu sighed. Such talk stirred a dangerous fantasy. Because that
was all it could ever be. “I thought I heard something about saying blessings to
Faery if one desired something with all their heart.”
“I’ll say them daily, then.” He clasped her hand and drew it
against his heart. “I would die for you, Blu, you know that.”
“Yes, but if you were dead, then who would give me babies?”
He chuckled. “Is this what they call the ticking biological
clock?”
“No,
“Creed.”
“Wild-haired sex kitten?”
“Watch it, pale vampire dude.” She reached behind and over her
hip and gripped his soft penis, tightly.
“All right, I’m sorry,” he quickly said. “No more teasing.”
She released him. “You start that, and I’ll have to call you
longtooth.”
“My teeth are long.” He bit into her shoulder, not breaking
skin, though she didn’t mind when he did, rarely, pierce her flesh. “On
occasion.”
They’d been forced to marry in a match arranged by the Council,
a group that oversaw the paranormal nations. The marriage had been a means to
bring together the opposing breeds and begin peace talks. It had worked to the
extent that some vampire tribes had gained respect from a few packs, but Blu
wasn’t so foolish to believe either breed would ever drop their prejudices and
embrace the other graciously.
Surprisingly to both of them, they had fallen in love, and the
marriage could be counted a success. And after she’d learned to trust her
vampire husband—who had once slain werewolves in medieval times—Blu had allowed
him to bite her. With Creed’s bite, they had bonded in a way vampires bonded.
Yet werewolves bitten by a vampire almost always developed an unnatural blood
hunger. That had not happened to her yet, for which she was thankful. Probably
because he had bitten her only a dozen times in a few years. She couldn’t fathom
drinking blood for pleasure.
“Deep thoughts?” he wondered, tugging a sheet corner to wipe
off her chest. The polite Frenchman to the core, he was warrior, lover and
doting husband, all rolled into one fine package.
Deep brown eyes she could stare into forever looked suddenly
worried in the soft glow from the bedside lamp. She’d mentioned her deep thoughts casually before, but had never dared say
how much those thoughts haunted her of late. They’d been married two years. She
adored her husband. To know she would enjoy centuries with him thrilled her
beyond measure.
But something was missing. An innate, visceral call to the
maternal.
“I want to have your children,” she whispered, feeling as if
the confession was so sacred she could only share it with him, and only in quiet
tones. “I wish there was a way, Creed.”
Feeling the tender, yet insistent, tug in her chest, she
blinked, and Creed traced the tear below her eye.
“If I could make it so, I would, lover mine. I hate seeing you
unhappy.”
“I’m never unhappy with you. It’s…well, you lying beside me
right now? I was thinking how we’re like pieces of a puzzle perfectly fit. Yet a
piece of me is missing, maybe fallen on the floor somewhere, and I can’t seem to
find it.”
He kissed her chin, her lips, her eyelids. The reverent
stillness allowed her to feel his heartbeats against her chest. If they embraced
long enough their heartbeats would synch.
“Wolves are, by nature, family-centric,” she said, pressing her
palm over his beating heart. “I want to make babies with you, lover. Have a
pack.”
“What if they were vampire babies?”
“Do you think that matters to me? Honestly?”
“No. The whole hating the vamps thing is not within your
nature. At least, not any more.”
“I could never hate you. Or any child I had that might have to
drink blood to survive. Hell, if I can’t have a pack, I’ll have a tribe! But our
children could be wolves.”
“Or half breeds,” he said. “I would love a child too. I crave
innocence. The wonder of youth.”
Blu sighed. Such talk stirred a dangerous fantasy. Because that
was all it could ever be. “I thought I heard something about saying blessings to
Faery if one desired something with all their heart.”
“I’ll say them daily, then.” He clasped her hand and drew it
against his heart. “I would die for you, Blu, you know that.”
“Yes, but if you were dead, then who would give me babies?”
He chuckled. “Is this what they call the ticking biological
clock?”
“No,
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