Author's note: Another request fic, and another venture with my oddest Underworld ship to date. I'm quite glad to see the positive reviews the other story with this ship has gotten. Hopefully everyone will enjoy this as well. Ok, I'll shut up now. Anyway, please review.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to Kevin Grevioux, Danny McBride, Len Wiseman, and Sony, etc. I mean no copyright infringement. Please, do not sue me. Savvy?
CRIMSON BLOOD FELL
She was bleeding.
It took a few moments for Soren to realize Amelia was bleeding as she clutched her hand and hissed in pain. The small letter opener had already hit the floor, the small clang of its landing faded away in Soren's ears as he slowly came over to take her cut palm.
Amelia glared up at him, her eyes flashing blue for a moment. She did not speak, but it was apparent that she blamed him for her accident. She was the one who had told him to come at this hour.
Soren just looked to the still bleeding wound, ignoring her ire. "I'll bandage it, that should help the wound heal by tonight," he told her, never looking up at her softening eyes. "No one should even be able to see a scar."
There was no thank you spoken of course. Merely a nod, as though she was approving his actions, as though he had to have her permission before even tending to her own welfare and reputation.
But he had expected this. That was how things were, after all.
Quickly, he led her into the grand bathroom connected to her chambers, grabbing a washcloth. Once it was dampened, he gently wiped her cut clean. The crimson flow had ended, but the cut was still red and angry, and Soren could hear the sharp intake of breath Amelia made when he wiped it.
"Forgive me, Milady," he whispered, head still bowed and eyes still focused on the wound.
The delicate hand moved away from his, coming up to his face, fingers stroking his cheek. The palm came to rest over his mouth, and Soren's eyes finally met hers. She gave a small nod, her eyes hazy. "Drink from it," she whispered back.
"But," Soren began, yet he stopped at that word. He could not go against her order. He could not even think of why he would need to. Slowly, he raised his hands up to hold her small one in place even as his mouth came to the wound, fangs cutting at the gash.
Amelia gasped softly, her other hand reaching up to clutch his shoulder. Her head rested against his chest as his tongue lapped at the reopened wound, sucking in the blood that poured from it.
Her blood ran down his throat so easily, it was exquisite. Like a fine wine, as he had heard many mortals say. Hungrily he sucked on the cut, his fingers gripping her wrist with almost bruising strength. Yet there would be no trace of this by tonight, just as he promised.
The moans escaping Amelia's lips were almost as arousing as the liquid in his mouth, but it was when her body pressed against his that he groaned and his mouth left her cut for a moment. A few drops hit the floor, but soon she had pressed her palm back to his lips.
"Don't stop," she breathed, eyes closed in ecstasy. She had thrown away her hold over him, such a rarity it almost made Soren afraid to continue. To see her like that was both Heaven and Hell. But the smell of blood and her command urged him on, and he again sucked at the wound.
Softly, Amelia brushed away his hair from one side of his neck, her fingers prying away the collar of his shirt. Her eyes had turned blue again, her fangs had elongated to their full size, and bloodlust ran through her and settled in her stomach.
It was evident in her moans, in her mannerisms, but Soren paid no attention to it until he felt her incisors sink into his jugular. All control had left him now as well, and soon he was pinning her to the wall, groaning even as he drank. One hand reached up, holding her head to his neck, keeping her there.
Eagerly she drank from him, her free arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders. She barely acknowledged the hand holding her head to his neck. She had no intention of stopping any time soon. Until she felt him grind against her, and suddenly almost all her lust traveled down her womb, another arousal spreading through her.
A load groan escaped them both as it happened, and Soren's hand released its hold on Amelia's head as they faced each other, blood dripping from their mouths, eyes blue and hazy. They kissed, hungrily, violently, hands reaching down, stroking and exposing.
Soren grunted into the kiss, feeling her cold, slender fingers stroking him, and his own hands eagerly found her core, teasing her as well. He almost grinned when she parted the kiss, her head back as she cried out.
Fingers stroked, rubbed, teased, pushing them closer and closer, tongues licking the blood from each other's mouth. Their hands worked faster and faster, frenzied cries escaping them as they suddenly fell together, falling and falling and soaring high at the same time. Their bodies shook and trembled, quiver in the other's embrace.
And then they were back again, panting and standing against each other, clutching tightly until their regained their composure.
The blood had stopped flowing from their wounds, and they quickly cleaned themselves up, silently and detached from each other.
Soren closed his eyes and steeled himself again as he came back over to Amelia once she was ready, bandaging her wound. He was ready when the cold gaze returned, he was prepared when she offered him no more words as he finished tending to her hand.
His lover did not speak again until he started to leave.
"You could stay longer," she told him without looking at him. "If you wish to."
It was a request. She did not make many requests. But Soren could feel the cold in him. A streak of cruelty that she had often displayed made him go over, kiss her, push her back onto her bed. He ran his hands over her lacy gown, kneading her flesh for several minutes before he broke away.
"I have things to attend to," he told her blankly, face a mask of indifference, and he rose. He smiled when he heard her heavy panting and small whimper as he left. He would suffer for it later. But it had been worth it.
At least now she knew how she always left him.
Soren licked his lips, still able to taste the blood on them.