Midian Evolution

He didn’t invite me to his coffin. I’d half expected that. Although I hadn’t wanted it, I didn’t complain. He needed some privacy, and resolved myself to understand that.

I slept in a bed for the first time in a very long time. I should have loved it. Instead, I tossed and turned, thinking about my master’s sad, disappointed eyes in the mirror.

An hour before sunrise I gave up and dragged my weary butt from bed. My eyes lit on a blur of blackness in the corner. Master sat in my only chair, head tilted back, eyes shut.

He’d come in here to be less alone. Why hadn’t he invited me to sleep in his coffin? Pride? Had he intended to sneak out before I woke?

Feeling wretched for his sake, I sat back down on the bed and just looked at him. My arrogant master, long body sprawled with boneless ease, hair falling into the floor. His left arm dangled, his right arm hung over his slender torso.

All those straps and buckles… Some seemed cinched tightly, while others just fell to the floor. One of them bridged his ankles. If he got up and walked, it would drag behind him in a loop.

These walls held him a prisoner here at one time. He’d confessed to Integra that she’d never restricted him. She told me that her uncle tried to kill her and she’d shot him. It added up to a complicated equation. He’d gotten her blood somehow, and as a consequence, she didn’t control him.

He’d stayed here to act as the servant/slave of a little girl. He’d kept up the pretense until I came along.

I always ruined things for him, didn’t I? And, edgy as he seemed, he exhibited patience for my sake. His reprimands came as lessons, not an excuse to cut me down. He didn’t need excuses. Excuses were for weak people.

He could do what he pleased, say what he wanted at any time.

He didn’t even need stay here.

God, the clothes did accurately represent him. He made a dual-edged statement, here. It said, ‘I am your prisoner by consent. Now, look at me. Face me.’ He honored his own hurt even as he made it sting for Integra to see him.

No half-measures for my master. He would never give less than his entire focus. Once dedicated, he completed.

I admired him so much. I’d never gone to any extremes before my unlife, before he bit me. He’d opened up an amazing, frightening, seductive world to my naïve eyes. I wondered what he saw in me, what induced him to offer his strong blood and allegiance to an unremarkable little cop.

I felt the tingle of the sun as it went down completely. My master twitched. His eyes opened, instantly alert. I watched, fascinated as he coiled his leather- wrapped body, straps and hair gently flowing. Fixing upon me, he dragged his eyes down my clothing.

“You complained so much about your outfit, yet you wore it to sleep,” he observed.

Did he really want me to start a conversation about choices in clothing?

Yes, maybe he did. Maybe this served as permission to speak about what bothered him.

“It’s comfortable inside of obscene,” I answered, seeing humor spark in his red gaze.

We fell to silence. I got up and opened my closet, feeling him watch me. After a moment I got used to the weight of his interest, and found what I sought.

I had an idea about how to support him without making him acknowledge me. I’d divert the attention of the soldiers to both of us, keeping the issue quiet to the uninformed while showing Integra I sided with my master. I fully agreed with what he silently expressed.

He, once a man with many slaves, humbled himself to act as her slave. He did it to gain power, to evolve, so his motivations weren’t entirely altruistic. Still, he viewed their partnership as mutual. Integra didn’t.

I opened the closet door wider, cutting off his view of me. Quickly, I took the pirate costume off and tossed the garments one by one over the door. “Are we going anywhere tonight, master?” I asked.

“I haven’t spoken to Integra since yesterday, so I have no idea,” he answered.

Perfect.

“Red or black?” I asked him.

“For what?” he asked.

“Just pick one.”

“Black, then.”

I grinned as I put on the slash-sleeved shirt. He’d chosen black, so he couldn’t complain if I resembled him. Next, I grabbed the long, black ribbon and chain draped skirt. I’d put stockings on to make my boots feel better, and arm warmers to ward off the chill in this place. The arm warmers had shreds and tatters hanging artfully.

“If we don’t have a mission, what do you feel like doing?” I asked.

“Taking down live, screaming prey,” he muttered darkly. “I long to drink my fill.”

I knew what he meant. I also needed to kill. It made my fangs ache. Putting on a shawl with long tassels, I stepped back and kicked the door closed. “Take me with you then, master,” I urged. “I’m very hungry. The blood packets keep me from acting crazy, but they don’t satisfy my hunger.”

“I’m sure,” he answered, watching me sit on the bed to don my spider web stockings. “Yes, I’ll take you, singe-sotie.” The fact he observed me rolling the hose on from toe to thigh made me feel like a goddess. “What keeps those from falling down?” he asked.

“I don’t know that they’ll stay up,” I answered, putting on my boots. “I forgot to buy sock glue. Maybe Walter can get some for me.”

“Sock glue,” he repeated, monotone and mystified. “Seras, come here a moment.”

He pulled me into his lap sideways, making me squeak in surprise. Remembering his warning not to struggle, I remained still. He dropped a hand to my ankle, feeling the hosiery. “These are real silk,” he murmured, his mouth close to my ear. Slowly, he slid those long fingers up my leg.

I felt hot. My heart thudded heavily and hard. Master smelled strongly of musk and blood, and I inhaled those layers of scent eagerly.

He dipped a finger between my skin and the stocking, feeling first one, then the other. “You are softer than your stockings,” he said lowly, lips right at my ear, now. “You don’t need them.”

“Master,” I whispered, my voice as weak as my resistance to him. His attention settled over me like a spell, making the room fade and the candles swell with brightness. I lolled in his lap, relaxed but burning from within. I ached for him to bite me. Deliberately tempting, I dropped my head back and exposed my neck. Master, please?

Whatever you want, Seras, he answered.

At the first scrape of his teeth, I shuddered all over. My insides turned to warm liquid. Twin, sharp pains brought the familiar, unbelievable bliss. So sweet, so strong, so completely him.

Flat coolness met my back. I smelled my sheets. He’d carried me to the bed. I opened my eyes to see him crouched over me. Cold buckles and oiled leather dragged my super-sensitive skin, sharply contrasting the warm smoothness of his hair.

Another lesson, police girl, he said, his mental voice pouring into me like melted chocolate. Open your legs for me.

At once, I obeyed. He put his thigh firmly at my junction, and the pressure made me gasp. One hand gripped my shoulder. You’ve never even given yourself pleasure, have you?

I knew what he meant. No, master. Only two words, but so difficult to say.

Then, I will. With that, he thrust his leg against me, simultaneously sucking hard on my neck. I sobbed, ecstasy flooding my every cell. His hard leg pulled back and shoved forward again. You should find reward. You stay my property by choice.

Master… The sound of his throat working to swallow my blood, enflamed me. I opened my legs wider, begging him for the hot, restless pleasure.

So passionate, in all things. So beautifully unsoiled. His thrusts grew harder and faster, one wave of sensation stacking atop the next seamlessly. So completely mine.

Oh, Master… I rocked under him, my hands twining into some straps. I held on, arching up to his sensual onslaught. It felt so good I cried. I couldn’t see now, just feel. Meeting his strong plunges made it feel even better, and I trembled from head to foot.

The dark scent of him, his voice in my head, his body over mine, I neared summit. I knew nothing but his teeth, his strength, and a desperate, greedy hunger from deep within. Master, please, I begged.

Because you ask so beautifully, he answered, I won’t make you wait, Seras. He slammed against me, hard strikes of lightning speed. I wailed and burst, melting, then exploding. Yes, he whispered. Your first, but not your last.

I’d never felt anything like this. I thought I would shake apart in a molten earthquake. His leg stayed wedged firm, and I bucked against him helplessly. I never wanted this to end, yet I feared for it to continue. But, the sensation ebbed to low, tingling warmth, then gave away to complete and satisfying weariness.

He withdrew his teeth, rolled us until I lay on top. Collapsing, I stared at a bright point of light, breathing hard.

The bright light slowly became the gleam of a candle reflecting off one of his buckles. I felt him stroking my hair. His heart beat a few times, strongly, then subsided.

The fluttering inside you is your womb, he told me. It rocks during orgasm.

Quite honestly, I could have cared less about the how and why.