Page 63 of Blood Ties (City of Blood #1)

Fall turned to winter, and winter turned to spring.

Our love as a family grew stronger, and we grew closer everyday.

Jack became a third member in our household, holding us up and together through the months that follow my kidnapping.

The fact that we know Nic is still out there somewhere haunts me.

I do everything I can to focus on now, but fear lives just outside of my reach, hanging over us.

I had a lot of healing to do, being immortal doesn’t get rid of PTSD, it seems. I made the decision to reclaim the Hotel Royal, not only for myself, but for my parents.

I deserved to have them and they deserved their happily ever after, but due to circumstances beyond my control, it didn’t work out that way.

Nicolas may have tainted the old mansion with his cruel and torturous ways, but now, after months of work, Hotel Royal is ours.

Our home is laid out like a square, with the center being the large courtyard where the vampires threw parties.

Our wing of the house looks out over Royal Street, and the library with the corner windows is at the end of the hall.

Jack’s wing looks over Phillip Street. The guest wing is next, followed by offices and lounges in the rooms that don’t have balconies or street views.

Tearing out every bit of the disgusting decor and torture chambers, we redecorated offices, parlors, and bedrooms. Turned the old concrete room, where my blood dripped into the sewer, into a lounge for visitors. It is a room I never go in, and that’s ok.

Jack took over Nicolas’s old rooms where he had a sex dungeon.

Jack kept that, a huge bedroom with a palatial sized bed—Jack kept the bed too—and a private office, the one where we met after Nicholas revealed my father to me.

Jack removed the old freaky paintings and sculptures, and bathed all the rooms in light, mimicking the sun filled days he doesn’t get to experience.

It is a place that brings joy to my heart when I visit him.

Bash and I remodeled the wing where my bedroom was previously, creating large apartments for us that consist of a large gothic inspired bedroom, with a black four poster bed with intricate carvings, deep green linens and pillows, and the lush canopy over the top is green and black sheer fabric, embroidered with dark flowers in royal blue, purple, and red.

There are deep carpets in varying colors of the night; shimmery silver, bloody crimson, and blackcurrant.

A large sofa in midnight blue velvet sits in front of the fireplace that used to be in my old bedroom.

It seems counterproductive, I suppose, but that room was the only place I felt safe in this house.

In a connecting room is a large space painted a neutral gray, with no other furnishings or adornments.

We will, hopefully, use this room one day, for a family we create ourselves—a family created out of the love between us.

I hope, whenever it happens, they’re a miniature version of Bash, with deep brown hair that falls over dark grey eyes.

The room with the balcony, where I shared a meal with Nicolas the first time—where my parents stood overlooking their kingdom—is my private office, a place where I can retreat into myself and reflect on the world we are sculpting together.

Sarah and Ethan have occupied some of the rooms in the guest wing.

They are blissfully happy, and planning their own wedding in the Summer.

They will make their vows in the courtyard, and we are going all out for the occasion.

They will never have children of their own, and I hope that is enough for Sarah. It certainly is for now.

Instead of the princely chair that sat in the courtyard, now, it's all comfortable chairs and couches. Hightop tables pepper the space, and a dining table sits in the center, large enough for everyone to gather. We don’t eat there, but we talk, have meetings, and the council sometimes sits with us.

Bash is the heir, and in the last few months, Marcus has begun heavily grooming him for his future role.

It seems he was waiting for Sebastien to forsake his bachelor ways and join the ranks of the settled, mated men.

We used the Velvet Tomb sunshine room as inspiration for the courtyard. We may never see the sun again, for ourselves, but sitting in the courtyard in the evenings, we can create our own day and bask in it for hours.

“Elina?” I hear Jack call out as I lay in a daybed under the artificial sun, feeling the warmth on my face.

“Yes, Jack? I’m in the courtyard.”

“Hey, Principessa,” he greets me, leaning over and taking a large inhale of my scent at my neck, before planting a kiss on my cheek.

I’m not sure what his reasoning is for this unusual behavior, but he started doing it shortly after the bonding ceremony, and I haven’t asked him about it.

It seems to make him happy, and after everything he’s done for me, I leave him to it.

“Hey. What’s going on? Where’s Katie? I thought I heard her earlier.” He and Katie have gotten much closer, and a lot more serious, since my Legame di Sangue. I think she is here more often than not. Bash is pleased he has a companion, and Jack walks around like a peacock preening.

“She’s…recovering,” he responds, winking. I roll my eyes. “Anyway, Bash is looking for you. I was sent to fetch my lady.” He throws his arms out in a flourish as he bows low over me.

I let out a laugh and raise an eyebrow at him. “Your lady alright. Where is he?”

“He said, and I quote, ‘Begin your search in the library’.”

“Oh, a game?” I exclaim jumping up from my sprawled position. His laughter follows me from the room as I run into the house, up the stairs, and into the library.

The first thing I notice is the smell of roses—an out of place smell in the room that usually smells like dusty old paper. Following my nose, I find a dozen roses interspersed on the shelves and a note;

Roses are red

Violets are blue

If you were thirsty

What would you do?

Snorting out a laugh at the silly poem, I think. If I was thirsty, I would go to the kitchen. Grabbing a rose and my note, I sprint out of the library and run down to the kitchen. On the counter is a glass of fresh warm blood and another note. Sipping the blood I read;

I’m not a bed but fantasies bloom

Sprawled on the desk, in this room

Leather and whispers, a chair that spins

Where power starts and work begins

Scribbling pens and trembling thighs

Windows where you can look at the skies

Tapping my chin, I tilt my head. Considering we have christened every room in this house, I know it's likely an office, but which one? Bash, myself, and Jack, all have one. I don’t have a leather chair, so, I’m going to guess and say Bash’s office.

Leaving the kitchen, I take my note and head upstairs into our wing.

Pushing open the door to Sebastien’s office, I look around but don’t immediately recognize anything out of place.

Rereading my note, I glide over to the floor to ceiling windows, and on the window sill is a note, on top of a black box tied with a ebony ribbon.

Reading the note before satisfying my curiosity about the box, I start;

You’ve found my mind, now follow my lust

But first, a little trust.

Cover your eyes, let your world go dark

And find your way to where we spark

Where pillows know our hearts best

And our hands are never at rest

No need to knock,

Follow the silence and turn the lock.

Squealing with excitement, I pull the ribbon on the box and slide the lid off.

Inside, on a bed of velvet, is a blindfold.

A thrill of anticipation runs through me.

I know where this one leads. To our bedroom.

Padding down the hallway, blindfold in hand, I pause outside the door and affix it over my face.

Turning the knob, I walk into the room, my vision completely black.

Quietly closing the door, I lock it behind me, and perk my ears to listen for any sound.

As Bash said, it is silent. Walking my memorized path to our bed, I climb onto it.

Unsure as to what to do now, I sit cross-legged and wait, my hands folded in my lap.

After a few seconds that feel like forever behind my dark blindfold, I feel Bash softly press his lips to mine, whispering, “Lay back, Tesoro.”

Falling back against the pillows, I feel his hands on my hips, looping into my waistband, drawing my shorts and panties down my legs.

I can feel the cool night air caressing my bare skin, and hear the faint rustle of his body as he makes adjustments.

I smell the faintest wisp of whiskey and smoke that is Bash.

Parting my lips, I exhale an audible breath.

Capturing my ankle, he lays a kiss to the inside of my knee before securing a padded cuff around my leg, causing me to inhale sharply.

“Shhh, it’s ok, baby, it’s me. You’re safe here.” I relax, focusing on his words. “If you want me to stop, say ‘stop’ and I will.”

Putting my leg back down, he repeats his treatment on the other leg. Once they are both buckled, I realize that the cuffs aren’t tying me down, they are holding me apart.

“What-what is this?” I ask, moving my legs experimentally to see what I can do.

“It’s a spreader bar, just a little-” I hear a click and my legs are pushed further apart.

I gasp in shock, longing filling me. I can feel my body responding, heat building in my belly.

As if reading my mind, Bash runs a single finger through my wetness, whispering reverently, “That’s my girl.

So ready for me.” I whimper in response, which elicits a chuckle that sends shockwaves through me.

Feeling his weight on top of me, I realize I can feel all of his skin also. I let out a giggle, thinking about him standing in our bedroom completely naked, waiting for me to solve his riddle.

“What’s so funny, Tesoro?” he asks, biting my breast.

Shaking my head, my mirth instantly turns to need. “Noth–nothing. It’s nothing”

“You’ll tell me later,” he says matter-of-factly, latching his lips to mine before sitting up.

Pushing on my thighs until my widely spread legs are in the air, he flicks his tongue against my clit before sucking hard on me.

My back bows off the bed, a moan escaping my lips.

Resting my thighs on his shoulders, he wraps one arm around my abdomen, holding my hips in place, and his other hand snaking under my body while he is rubs one finger in circles around my opening.

Tracing my body with aching care, he pays attention to every inch of me, heightening my need with every expert stroke of his tongue.

His probing finger finally slipping inside my soaking pussy, I pulse around him with greedy need. Buried between my thighs, relentless and possessive, he pushes me closer and closer to the edge until I am keening with want, begging for release.

“Please, Bash, please!”

“What, baby? Tell me what you want?”

“I want to come!” I cry out, almost sobbing from the edge where he has kept me suspended at knife point for far too long.

“Your wish is my command, baby.” Withdrawing his fingers and tongue, he extricates himself from my legs. I can’t watch what he’s doing and I am so lost with wanting to orgasm that I am floating in bliss above my body, my skin tingling.

Suddenly, my body is twisted by my ankles, flipping me onto my stomach.

I cry out as my overheated, overstimulated flesh makes contact with the blanket below me.

Gripping my hips hard, Bash lifts me to my knees before plunging three fingers into my dripping body causing me to convulse with pleasure, crying out for him.

Pulling his fingers from me, I hear him licking them clean.

It is the most erotic thing I think I’ve ever heard.

I feel the head of his hard cock slide through my sex, coating himself in my wetness. In one solid thrust, he is inside me, all the way to his pelvis. He pushes into me so fully, I can feel him hitting bottom and I hiss out a mix of pleasure and pain.

“Fuck,” he whispers to the skin between my shoulder blades, before he begins thrusting into me hard and fast. I quiver beneath him, my body begging for release from this torture of standing on the edge. With him fucking me this hard, all I can do is hold on.

Moving his hand between my thighs, he rubs hard circles against me while his thrusts never slow.

My body sings with pleasure, craving to fall over the edge warming me.

As his pounding becomes more erratic, his ministrations become smaller, tighter, harder causing my nerve endings to fire rapidly as I begin my descent over the cliff.

I shake, tremble, scream out in pleasure.

My upper body collapses, absolutely shattered under him.

His breath comes out in pants, him grinding against me as he holds my hips aloft.

His body goes rigid. “Fuck, baby. Elina, fuck.” His gasped exclamations are followed by him exploding in a whispered huff of air as he comes, falling across my back as we both press against the mattress.

Wrapping his arm around my stomach, his body melded to mine, he withdraws, both of us hissing from the overstimulation of the movement.

He lays sweet kisses into my hair as he pulls my blindfold off.

Later that week, sitting on the banks of the Mississippi with my mate beside me, I gaze out over the water.

The freedom of an infinite life stretched out before me, I look over my shoulder at the imposing boundary.

Bash was willing to burn Ville de Sang to free me from the clutches of a madman if that’s what it took.

Refusing to allow fear of Nicolas to control me, I have retaken my life, my future, and I will not be afraid.

Glancing over at his contented face and relaxed body, I frown. I realized I am willing to do a lot more than that to free my people from the prison my new family has created for them. Before, I didn’t have the power to help anyone, not even myself. But now?

I smile.

The End.