Delilah didn't let him continue; she buried her hands in his hair and crushed his lips to hers.
   She had never known it could be this . . . empowering, this sweet. His lips were perfect against hers, she had seen people kiss. But she always thought it would be nasty.
She had been wrong, it felt too good.
   She wanted to show him that they could be together. She didn't care about her 'mate', if she ever met another guy that made her feel like he did then she would tell him to shove it. She wanted Conor, and she wouldn't give up on getting him.
   Yes, she had been scared to even think about sex before. Yes, she had been scared to even sit in his lap a few minutes ago. But damn it, she wanted it too bad, she needed it.
But when she had kissed him again, she hadn't expected his reaction.
   His arms came around her, one arm under her back and the other holding her thighs to his, and he bowed her backwards, getting her to release the kiss and look in him the eyes.
   Conor's eyes were normally dim, the blue darkened with boredom, but as he looked at her now his eyes were bright. The blue almost sparkling and his pupils dilated.
   "Last warning, Aingeal." He licked his lips and swallowed, his eyes resting on her lips. "I won't hurt you, but I definitely won't stop."
   "I don't want you to stop, Conor." Her voice was weaker than she wanted it to be, she wanted to show him that she wasn't scared.
   "What do you want, sweetheart?" His eyes bore into hers, seeking the truth and demanding she spoke it. He shifted under her, the bulge in his pants brushing between her thighs, she tried to moan as the friction caused sparks to ignite between them.
   The question stayed in the air, it is probably the most important question she would ever answer.  She took a breath and answered.
   "You, Conor. I want you." Breathless, she sounded like she was running, her heart felt like it did when they had been running in the street of New York.
   "Oh, gods." He groaned and this time, he kissed her, his hands lightly gripping her hair and bending her more backwards.
   Delilah moaned. She didn't know what to do, how to react. But she had been told to follow her body's needs, maybe is she. . . .
   His tongue pushed at her lips, seeking deeper contact. Hesitant, she partly opens her mouth and his tongue dived inside. She shook from head to toe, gasping as he explored. He twisted her head slightly and went deeper, making her groan at the headiness.
   Her hands moved along his back, raking her nails on his skin through his shirt, he moaned. And he began a new assault on her mouth, demanding, taking, and giving back.
Shots of electricity sparked along her body, every place he touched and every place he wasn't. She felt her body become mindless and take control, between her thighs she felt wetness begin to gather there, and their combined scent staining the air around them.
   She vaguely realized he taste of oranges, and of something she couldn't place. She would get addicted to his taste if this went on.
   He pulled back, seeming to understand she needed to breathe, but he didn't stop, she whined at the lost of his sweet taste. But his mouth moved down her throat and to his favorite spot, right at the artery of her neck. Catching her eyes, he smiled cockily and went to work at teasing the sensitive skin.
   Delilah's head lolled, she felt like she was flying. Never had she felt to free or hot or needy. But as he nibbled, licked, and suckled on her flesh, she felt her fly higher. She couldn't get enough air; his every touch sent the oxygen form her lungs.
   Looking to the heavens, she swiped her tongue around her lips, loving his taste. But as she did so, she felt her fangs begin to grow. Clamping her mouth shut, her body went tense.
   "What's wrong, Aingeal?" He purred on her skin, making her quake. He pushed at her back, she sat up a little more.
   "N-nothing, I'm fine." He licked from her collar bone to her ear; she gasped again, her nails digging into his back.
   Pulling back, he looked at her and put them nose-to-nose, not allowing her to get away with that excuse. He smiled, showing a bit of his canines, and he used his right hand hold her up as his left traveled to the front. As he began to unbutton the shirt, her heart sped up, ready to burst from her chest.
   "You lie. Why? You can tell me anything." Even concerned his words weaved a spell on her senses, she had to concentrate not to close her eyes and beg him to continue.
   His hand went down her body, undoing every button and parting it a little more with each undoing. Until, finally, all were undone and the shirt gaped open for his eyes to see.
   Locking her eyes with his own, he used his free hand and slowly parted the folds of the shirt, her breath catching as cool air touched her chest.
   He kept eye contact, and his knuckles grazed along her navel, lightly touching, barley even there. Gasping as the sparks became known again, she quickly closed her mouth, but biting her lip, her fangs sinking into her bottom lip.
   "Your fangs, is that why?" He asked, his hand inching up, making her want to grip his wrist and make him quit teasing. Her body eased into his touch and she nodded, wetness seeping from her feminine place.
   "Don't ever be afraid to show me anything, Aingeal." He bent and kissed right at the bottom of her neck, close to her heart. She nodded as her hands came back up to his hair, her fingers burrowing into his lush brownish-red locks.
   His eyes moved down her body, until they landed on her breasts. His breath became sharp, like he couldn't breath. His hands left her and then went to the shirt, moving the fabric further than her skin.
   Feeling a blush creep up her face, she began to close her arms around her; she had never been under such scrutiny.
   "No," his voice was rough, husky like hers was. "Don't cover yourself, Delilah. You're far too beautiful."
   She melted at his words; no man had never given her such praise. Then again, this wasn't just any man. This was the man that had saved her, protected her, and gave her more pleasure than she ever thought possible.
   Not caring anymore, she dug her hands into his scalp and forced his head up to look at her. The heat and a need in his blue eyes made her tremble, but she closed her eyes and dove at his mouth, taking charge and doing what felt natural.
   His arms came around her again, and he groaned as her breasts pressed into his chest. The sparks shooting between them even through the fabric of his shirt.
   Then things happened so fast, she saw everything in a blur.
   Conor tensed, his arms left her, and his head turned around. She lifted her head faster than she thought possible,
   She fell back to earth.
   Not but ten feet away, a man, covered had-to-toe in black, stood with a gun, pointing straight at Conor.  
   Fear shot through her, she didn't even realize that Conor had placed her back on the deck and was standing. She pulled her shirt together, beginning to button it back up, and shivered, she missed his heat.
   "What are you doing here?" Anger radiated off him, he seemed demonic in the back drop of the night sky, his silhouette barley seeable.
   "Move, shifter, this doesn't involve you." The man spoke, his voice deep, but had not accent she could pinpoint.
   "You are pointing a gun at my woman; I think that does involve me. Why are you here?" He growled. "And I would put that gun down before I shove it down your throat, blood sucker."
   Shock bound through here again. Blood sucker? A vampire? Standing up, she moved closer to Conor. He looked over at her and his look told her to stay close.
   "That is none of your business, animal cur. I have business with the girl." He held the gun only half way out now, not at full arm length like he had been.
Conor looked over at her and she shook her head, she didn't know the man nor of what he was talking about.
   "What is this business you have with her? If you tell her, then she'll just tell me. I'm her protector." Conor spoke with enough authority to make any man obey him, but not this vampire.
   The man seemed to think, as Delilah looked him over, she saw that he wasn't showing even a hint of skin. Even his head was covered; except for small holes for his eyes and mouth and nose.
   "Fine, may we go someplace else and talk? This will take a while for me to explain." He put the gun down and stuffed it in a holster on his leg.
   "No, right here." Conor demanded, his hand reached back and sought her own. She clasped his hand, needing some sort of stability. He whispered to her, "If he has anything to do with your past then, we'll bring him along with us. But don't. . .hope, to much, sweetheart. Something's not right. ."
   She nodded and rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb, taking a deep breath, she faced the man again. Conor turned back to the man and began to ask questions.
   "It's strange to see a vampire so far from their convey, why are you here?" His hand squeezed hers and she returned the sentiment.
   "For the girl." He pointed out, and though she couldn't see his eyes, she knew they were looking at her. "She is of great importance to me."
   "As of why? She doesn't know you, do you know her?" He questioned again, his tone hard. She would have kissed him; he was giving her hope she thought she would never have.
"I do know her."
   Her heart leapt and she gasped, involuntarily clenching her hand around his. She saw him look at her, but her eyes were locked on the man. He knew her? From where? And how long ago? She wanted to ask, but she wouldn't until Conor told her it was okay, she followed him when it came to her protection.  
   "Now, before you ask anything else. There is something you should know." The man spoke, beginning to pace. "I am no assassin, I wish her no more harm than you do, shifter."
   "Then why the gun?" Conor asked, sarcastically.
   "I thought you were forcing yourself on her. I was prepared to protect her." His stood straight, his shoulders thrown back, his head held high.
   "I would never." He growled at the man. Then taking a breath he asked," exactly why are you here?"
   "Let me explain thing else first." He looked away. "I have traveled far and long, searching only for her. I will never leave her again. No matter what you say, even if you leave. I will follow you. I will follow her. I owe her my life. My protection." He sighed, "and I have to tell her something."
   "Wait, who sent you?" Conor stepped forward, a advancement if he was to issue a attack on the man, but he didn't seem like he was.
   "That is for her learn first, this I will not tell you." Determined, he inclined his head.
   "You will tell me, or you will go." He nearly yelled and she squeezed his hand. He looked over at her and something on her face made him step back to her side.
   Turning to the man, she spoke. "I do not know who you are. I thought I was one of only a few vampires left on earth. I thought they had been hunted to extinction."
   "Far from it, little one." There was a smile in his voice, but something else as well. "I have been searching for you for that reason."
   "Why do you speak like you've known me for a long time? This is the first time of me meeting you." She asked, her voice nearly cracking with emotion welling up in her chest. Was this her chance? Her break in life?
   "I have known you for a very long time." His voice became confused. "What happened to you?"
   "I don't know what you are talking about? I have never seen you all my life." She felt the edge of panic. Was this man speaking the truth? Had she known him before she lost her memories?
   "Gods above, they did do it." He spoke to himself, the note of shock unmistakable in his voice. He walked to the right and leaned on the wall that separated them from inside the boat.
   "What are you talking about?" Conor demanded, stepping forward and in front of her, shielding her.
   He looked over at them, then sighed. The man's hands clenched together and then he turned around and walked towards them. "You must believe me when I tell you this. Understand?"
   Her brow knotted, there was an accent. His voice was rough, but also smooth. He purred on the S's and R's. And he seemed like he was angry. Why? But she nodded and so did Conor, though he was tenser than she ever thought he could be.
   "About six years ago, when the first of the wars started, there was a family. They were royal, the top of their race. And looked up to by everyone. They led the fight, led their race as well as many others looking for guidance. They were one of only three Royal families that fought, the rest fled to their hid outs and stayed there for the fights. But this family, they were known to be leaders, protectors, and fighters till the last one." There was respect in his voice, and she could tell he was telling her from his memory. He had served this family?
   But as he started to continue, her head began to pound, like someone was hitting it with a hammer. Shaking her head, she listened as he spoke.
   "But over the course of three years of battle, this family's forces and own family members began to dwindle down. There were a mere half a hundred when there had been hundreds of them before. And they grew tired of fighting. But they continued, relying on two of the best of their armies, and heirs to the throne."
   An ache came to her heart and she gasped at the sudden burn, it felt like someone was gripping her chest and squeezing with all their might.
   "You all right, Delilah?" Conor whispered, his eyes concerned, as his hand gently petted her own. She nodded and focused on the man, who had stopped because of her gasp. She nodded to him as well, and he continued.
   "The people and family alike relied on those two to end the war at their part of the globe. And they went into enemy territory, to take out the leader of the human army. When it came back to the people that the Commander had been assassinated, they rejoiced and threw one of the greatest celebrations known to their race." He sighed, the sound sad and tired. He looked down, then back up at them. "But when the heroes returned. . . only one was welcomed through the gates of their city."
   Her heart constricted and she gasped again, this time forced to her knees. The pain momentarily shocking her, cutting off her body's control. She caught her breath and looked up at the man, who looked back at her. Was this a spell? The pounding in her head picked up, making her temples throb. What was this man doing?
   "Delilah! What's wrong?!" Conor crouched next to her and helped her stay sitting up.
   "My head, but I'm fine now." She lied; she had to hear this man's story. She felt like she was on the edge of finding something important out and she needed to know what. She nodded for the man to continue.
   "The one that came home, demanded something of his mother. He demanded a spell. And so it was done. The family went into deep grieving, for the one they had lost had been in line to be the next leader. And she had been much loved by the people and her family." He coughed and turned away.
   "I don't understand! What are you talking about? What race? What family? Who was sent to kill the commander?" She felt tears clog her throat. "And what does this have to do with me?" Her voice low, she chocked out the words, though she wanted to yell them.
   Tears feel from her eyes, but she didn't know why. The sorrow in her heart gripped her again and she saw blackness on the edge of her eye sight. 'Not now, not when I'm so close!' She begged the gods as she became weak.
   "Because, the race is ours, vampires." He coughed again. But she heard footsteps and knew he was approaching her. "And the family is the last of our kind. And because," he spoke softly, "you are the one they grieved over. The one that went missing. The one that they have been waiting for, for over six years. You are the heir to the throne and the last daughter of our king and queen. Princess Veronika Saveli."
   With the last squeeze of her heart, the darkness took her into it's embrace.

The End

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