The Naphil's Kiss

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

New York, 1923

Sarahi regarded herself in the full-length mirror and adjusted her dress, so the black lace settled even lower on her ample bosom, creating a rather ridiculous amount of cleavage. Her victim would not be able to see her, so it didn't matter whether she looked her best or not, but she wanted to be successful, and when she looked sexy, she felt sexy. I'm ravenous tonight, but this party in the penthouse of a luxury apartment building will be an easy place to feed. For three hours, she had followed her lusty victim, Tom, through a haze of alcohol, music, and women in short, fringed skirts, whispering suggestions in his ear. Soon it will be time to move in for the kill… figuratively speaking of course. In the morning, he'd have a monster of a hangover, but as drunk as he was, he likely wouldn't expect anything different.

She glanced around the room. In a city with so little available space, owning an extra bedroom to use as a dressing room was a sure sign of extreme wealth. Only a red velvet chaise and a carved wardrobe took up space on the floor. Tom must be doing quite well. Sarahi's stomach rumbled. Time to go get a snack.

Tossing her burgundy hair over her shoulder, she gave herself one last look, and then, satisfied with her appearance, she flashed to a spot on her victim's left shoulder. Sarahi smirked to see Lucien, in all his midnight beauty, on the right. The lovely angel man had resisted her a long time, but he was wavering. She could feel it. Perhaps I can feed more directly tonight. I only want to when he's here.

A wicked smile curled her lips upwards. She turned her attention to her victim. Curly brown hair and pretty blue eyes, as well as far too much money for his own good. She scanned the room. The polished floor gleamed, as did the satin bedding on which a woozy-looking woman reclined, looking up with unfocused eyes. From outside, the sounds of the party continued unabated.

He's delicious and already slightly drunk, which will make my job so much easier. The desire radiating from him started to fill her empty belly immediately. She watched his mouth descend again towards the pretty and intoxicated blond he had already kissed so deeply, his hands lifting the skirt of her short, fringed dress.

“Do it,” she purred in his ear. Inside his head, her seductive voice sounded like his own, so he would not realize he was being tempted by an evil creature like herself. “Take her,” Sarahi continued. “You know she wants it. She came here to get this from you, and she's not really that drunk. She's only had two gin fizzes… maybe three. No more than three. She knows what she desires.”

She sensed him considering and pressed. “Just think how it would feel… hmm soooo good.” Her voice became sticky and slow, like molasses, and then she shimmied over to the side of his head. Her little pink tongue snaked out, l*****g the ear almost as big as she was. He shivered as though he could feel it. He's hooked now, and my hunger is satisfied. Time to take a chance.

Sarahi sidled around his neck, trailing her fingers along his sensitive hairline, and addressed Lucien directly. “He's all yours. Choose, Lucien. Do you waste your time trying save the guilty from themselves, or do you come with me? Please me, and you can have all this.” She trailed her fingertips across her cleavage, delighted to see the angel's eyes following her movements. “Don't disappoint me.”

Then she disappeared.

Sarahi flashed herself back to the still-empty dressing room and waited. She had invited him before, but he had never come. Maybe tonight will be different.

She stretched out on a red velvet chaise, arms behind her head, and waited. Over the centuries it had become easier to incite l**t and feed from it, but after all this time, she could never let go of what she really wanted; the Naphil Lucien in her bed. She was nearly frantic with it.

His scent wafted across her nostrils. Her n*****s hardened painfully, and she felt herself growing wet.

“Sarahi?”

“Lucien.”

“What did you want, Succubus?” His voice sounded weary.

Opting for honesty instead of seduction, Sarahi spoke bluntly. “You know what I want. I told you in Versailles, over four hundred years ago. Nothing has changed. I want you.”

“Why?” he demanded.

“Who can say? I certainly can't explain it.”

“I don't want to feed you,” he pleaded.

She lowered her lashes, acknowledging the legitimacy of his feelings. “I can't help that. It's what I am. But that's not why I want you.”

“Then why?” he demanded again.

You know, Lucien, if you dared admit it to yourself. “Come over here, my love, and find out.”

He approached cautiously and knelt on the floor beside her.

She reached out her hand and trailed dainty fingers over the coarse curls on his head. “Have you forgotten how it was in Rome? I've never had a kiss like that.”

His full lips twisted into a parody of a smile. “Sarahi, I've never had a kiss other than that.”

She couldn't help smiling in return, and it seemed to draw him to her like a static charge. As though against his will, his arms slipped around her waist and he lowered his mouth to hers, taking the lead as though he had the experience of all his centuries of existence behind him. It was the hottest kiss she'd ever had, far eclipsing that long-ago day in Rome.

It seemed he'd never forgotten that day either, the day he'd first encountered temptation. Then, she'd tasted his mouth. Now he returned the favor, plunging his tongue past those naturally red lips.

She moaned at the honey-sweet flavor of him, snaking her arms around the bulky thickness of his shoulders to pull him even closer. He climbed onto the chaise, straddling her body and pressing her into the soft upholstery. She wrapped her legs around his waist. Their bodies aligned completely.

She hadn't been sure what kind of s*x organs a Naphil might have, but the bulge grinding against her felt normal, apart from the lovely size of it. This is going to be spectacular, worth all the centuries I've waited. She hummed into his mouth.

“Touch me, my angel,” she murmured when he released her mouth to drag air into his lungs. She took his hand from behind her back and guided it to one of her full breasts, tugging down the fabric to expose it.

For a moment, he caressed her there, and the sight of his ebony skin against her gleaming white flesh made her catch her breath. Such a beautiful contrast.

And then he stopped. “I… Sarahi, I can't… No.” He rose from the chaise.

“Lucien, please. Don't go,” she begged. No! Not now.

“I swore a vow,” he reminded her, desperate passion and stubborn obedience warring in his features.

“Who would know?” she asked. “It could be our secret.” Goodness knows I'm no more allowed than he is, but he's worth every risk.

“He would,” Lucien answered, cryptic as usual.

“God?”

“The head of the elder council, our governing body. He would know.”

“Is he omniscient?” Sarahi sat partially upright, meeting Lucien's dark-eyed gaze with a challenging stare of her own.

“No, but how could I keep it from him?”

“You could if you tried.”

“No, Sarahi. I can't. I… I'm sorry.” And he vanished from the room as though he had never been there.

Sarahi turned over on the chaise and wept into the scarlet upholstery, her belly full, but her heart breaking.