long wavy hair fell down her back to brush lightly against Keirc’s thighs and balls. The soft brush, a contrast to hard thrusts took him to a sweet, hard tension, where Iridea held him for minutes before he exploded, sitting up to wrap her in his arms. She moved her hips in a slow circle, using the muscles in her core to drain all he had. Keirc moaned and lapped the underside of her breasts and nipples as he felt the last drop leaving his cock.
Hours later, Iridea slept against Keirc’s chest, as he played with her hair in the dark. She was so lovely, so soft and he reacted to her as he’d never reacted to a female before her or any he’d met since coming to know her. The sex was hotter than the surface of the sun but when he was with Iridea, Keirc wasn’t thinking just with his dick. She understood him, reached him on some level that had always been inaccessible to others. Even knowing that he was arrogant, a perfectionist and bossy, she cared for him, something he didn’t completely understand. In that way, she was a mystery to him.
What was not mysterious at all was his knowledge of how news of his romance with the daughter of the Demesne’s leader, Sebastien Galaurus, would go over with his parents and hers. Keirc hadn’t known who Iridea was, when they’d met two years ago on a rainy stretch of road outside of Saint Rushton. She’d swerved on the wet road to avoid hitting a deer and ended up off the road entirely. He’d stopped to help a stranded woman, but found a stunning redheaded supernatural instead. It had been clear that she wasn’t from the Sanctum, because he’d have recognized her or her car, but the fact that she was from the Demesne hadn’t changed the fact that she was a beautiful, soaked stranger that he’d stopped to help.
Iridea had explained that she had called a friend to pick her up but they hadn’t come yet. It was a simple explanation but left out the facts that she’d left her haven without security and had called a vampire friend for a ride, which was complicated by the fact that she’d have to wait a bit before her buddy could get to her and taker her home without being seen.
Keirc had offered to take her for a cup of coffee to get her out of the cold rain. She’d called her ride again to tell them that she’d be at a nearby truck stop, instead of waiting with her car. Two cups of coffee later, they’d exchanged cell numbers and he’d left her there, knowing that she was half daemon, half vampire and could defend herself. Exchanged text messages over the next week led to more coffee at the truck stop.
Weeks later, Keirc knew her name was Iridea and that she lived at the Demesne, but she’d talked about her life there in carefully evasive terms. Since they were from what were considered oppositional supernatural havens, he’d done the same, offering little at first, but irresistibly drawn to her none the less. As their conversations became longer, he learned that she’d studied painting and sculpture with private supernatural tutors and through online universities, they shared a love for the same kinds of music and she was a tech junky just as he was. He told her what books he’d read, movies he’d seen, how he’d learned about investing money. When she showed him pictures of her art and pieces of sculpture she’d created, on her cell, he was honestly impressed enough to offer to buy a few things. She’d laughed, calling the works clumsy, but said she was still learning. She’d asked what he did at the Sanctum or what he did for a living.
“I’m involved with security for the Sanctum and the Sanctum’s money management,” he’d answered. There was truth in the statement, but he’d left out the details of how deep his involvement was. Or that he was the son of Miri and Andrieu Grey, who’d founded the Sanctum hundreds of years ago.
Once she’d asked him about healing and angelic blood. He’d answered with the truth. Angels healed others as quickly as they killed. Angelic blood wasn’t always needed to heal, but once given, it often changed the supernatural or human receiving it, not always in predictable ways. Humans often lived hundreds of years after being given angelic blood, while it healed vampires with almost no other effects.
Could angelic blood heal disease in the blood of a daemon or a daemon that was half vampire, she’d asked. Would it be like a poison?
Keirc wasn’t sure because he’d never seen it done and didn’t know of blood diseases that could affect any supernatural, but he thought it could heal. He’d found the conversation odd, but even among supernaturals, angels were curiosities. There were few like him or his parents so her interest wasn’t really surprising.
As the weeks passed, Keirc found her in his thoughts more and more. As they spoke on a cell one night, Iridea told Keirc that she’d only seen pictures of Christmas trees, but hadn’t ever seen a real decorated tree. A week later, he’d smuggled her into the Sanctum, past his own security forces, to his rooms, where he had a small decorated Christmas tree waiting. She’d been delighted and even more excited to learn that the tiny wrapped box beneath the tree was for her. She’d torn the paper from the package as if she’d expected the thing to disappear in her hands. The diamond in the necklace was a single carat, small by his personal standards, but it brought Keirc the loveliest smile he’d ever seen. The conversation became serious when Iridea mentioned that her mother, Ilea, loved diamonds too.
“Ilea?” he’d asked her, in front of the twinkling tree. “What’s your last name? And, what is your father’s name?”
When she gave her surname as Galaurus and her father’s name as Sebastien, Keirc knew he should get her home safely and never see her again, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Staring at her stupidly in the soft light, his mouth had refused to form the words that would end their relationship.
Suddenly, he understood her questions about healing and angelic blood. By the time rumors of her brother’s death from a strange illness had reached the Sanctum, the male had been dead for over a month. It was also rumored that her mother, Ilea, had been sent to recover at a sheltered cloister of daemon women in England.
“We would have come for your brother, if someone from the Demesne had called one of us,” he said. “We would have tried to save him. We had no idea. It might have worked, but we didn’t know.”
Iridea’s eyes grew shiny with tears, which she brushed away. “Saan, my brother, was a good male. He was honorable. I miss him still, but I know he is truly in a better place.” What she said next had nearly turned Keirc into a babbling idiot. “I wish to sacrifice my virginity with you.”
“You’re a virgin?” he’d asked, almost gasping, as all of the air left his lungs at the same time.
Iridea had nodded shyly. “I no longer wish to be,” she’d said.
“How old are you, Iridea?” Keirc asked incredulous.
“A little over one hundred,” she answered. “I think you are older than me, but these things are not important.”
How could a woman this gorgeous have remained virgin for over a century, Keirc wondered, but then realized that she had seemed a little naive about some things. And one hundred years was considered young among supernaturals, who often lived many centuries. Keirc was closer to his third century and was still viewed as young. Initially, Iridea had seemed almost as if she hadn’t been around males often, but he’d considered her shy, gentle nature a part of her charm, never thinking of why. He also realized that her life at the Demesne was probably only a little less restrictive than being in a prison. She had to be taking enormous risks to see him. Risks he hadn’t realized.
And…he’d brought her here…to the Sanctum…a rival haven to her father’s
“No,” he’d said. “You deserve better. You shouldn’t do this…with me.” Christ, he’d had so many females and even human women; he’d lost count over the centuries. Now, the one that really touched his heart was a virgin and the child of a male known for ruthlessness.
