It could very easily have ended the life of Ash's son. And looked as if her attackers had killed one of Ash's friends. 

 

Such were her thoughts as Cayden carried her up to her room, sobbing, in front of everyone. Humiliated, broken, she felt she had no where to turn. No matter who offered her assistance, even someone as competent as Ash Jacobs, it all ended in disaster. 

 

Finally her tears ended, not because she was any less heart-broken over what she'd caused to come down on her new friends, but more because there simply were no more tears. No more emotion even. She felt drained, far more than any vampire could possibly drain her. Weak, exhausted, empty of everything, a husk with nothing whatever left. No will, no hope, no place to go.

Cayden smoothed the tears from her cheeks, and kissed the corner of her mouth.  "Stop blaming yourself, angel.  It's not the first time we've been attacked here and it won't be the last."
 

"I know. Lynne told me how she'd come to be.. what she is." Fiona sighed. 
 

"Yeah. You should go help everyone. No need to stay here. I'll be fine. I'm.. exhausted."

"No I shouldn't."  He said it with his lips against her hair, a whisper of sound to enfold her.  "I'm doing exactly what I should be doing, baby."  He exhaled, blowing warm air against her ear, then licked the whirls with the tip of his tongue, hiding a very male smile when she shivered.  "You need me more than they do and comforting you is a chore I'll perform anytime and smile the whole way through."
 

"Cayden, you're very sweet. But you didn't sign up for this. Really. I'll be fine."

 

He groaned, exasperated.  "Fiona, for once, just this once, listen to me and really hear what I'm saying.  Let it into your brain and past all your pre-conceived ideas about how things work.  I did sign up for this and I'd do it again.  Everyone in this house did, even Carmine believe it or not.  It's what we do.  We've done it for centuries.  And you won't be fine.  Whatever this is, even you can't fight it alone."
 

She managed a tiny smile. "I meant babysitting me. Trying to put me back together again, not the whole fighting your enemies thing."

 

"It's all part of the same thing, angel.  And it's not babysitting."  He grinned, his eyes glinting with promise as his hand skimmed the underside of her breast while his mouth brushed over hers.  "If it were, I'd be guilty of pedophilia.  And you wouldn't want that, now would you?"
 

Her breathing went shallow and her eyes had fluttered closed at his touch and his kiss. "No, I wouldn't want that."

Her eyes opened, the irises wide with passion. She studied him for a moment then said, "I want.. I want you to keep doing this. Don't stop."

 

He pushed her top up over her stomach, splaying his hand wide on her skin, over the clenching muscles in her belly, his thumb fluttering back and forth over her ribs like butterfly wings, tracing each one. Her skin was soft, silky smooth, the texture like swansdown and he wanted to touch it forever, to luxuriate in the feeling of, warm and alive against his hand.  He pushed her top further up, baring the bottoms of her breasts, encased in a wisp of silk and lace and cupped the weight of one in his hand, his thumb stroking the ruched nipple.  The fabric of her bra scraped over the pads of his fingers and he molded her into his hand.

She fit perfectly, all soft, silken heat while the scent of her rose, wreathing around him as her skin heated unter his hands.  He drew it in, the distinctive odors of her, hot honey and spice, and freshness.  He'd never smelled anything like it and filled his head like a drug.  He kissed his way down her jaw to her throat, nudging her head back against his shoulder and lapped his tongue on her skin, laying it flat and wide to taste as much of her as he could.  She was sweet and addicting, a primal flavor of sheer femininity and the rising, tangy smokiness of passion.  He lapped again, the feel of her skin sending fire along his veins, straight to his groin, hardening and enlarging him until his jeans were painfully tight.
 

Her eyes were open to slits, watching him, her hands were in his hair, combing through it, wondering at its texture, her mind refusing to think, telling her to just feel, to let go, to concentrate on feelings not thoughts, emotions not logicalities, forget the impossibleness of what was happening, just enjoy and revel in it.

 

He bared her upper body to him with a thought, not even trying to loosen her hands long enough to do it any other way.  Then he shifted her back on the bed, his mouth following her down, placing little nips and licks along her collarbone, pinning her legs apart with his hips.  He couldn't believe the way they fit together, the way she cradled him so perfectly in the vee of her thighs.  The shifting of her hips creating a friction that started the blood roaring in his head, until the only thing he wanted was to be buried inside of her, plunging as deep and as hard into her as he could go, feeling her inner muscles clamp down on him, hard and hot and tight. 

He wanted her, right now, no waiting, no build up.  But he wanted this to last forever, to take his time with her, savoring her.  He wanted to take her apart with pleasure, flay her with it until she was mindless with need, driven past every inhibition and conscious thought.  He wanted to take her past every limit she thought she had, way beyond her comfort zone, until she was flying high with him, burning up under him and he'd branded himself on her skin, seared himself into her bones.  He was burning up wanting her and he needed her inside the conflagration with him.

He lifted his head, looking down at her through narrow eyes.  Her skin was flushed, sheening in the candlelight.  Her eyes were slits, hazed with passion and her mouth swollen from his kisses.  Her breathing was already rapid and shallow, lifting her breasts and then lowering them in an evocative movement that made his erection jerk and spasm.   He lifted both her breasts in his hands, shaping them to his wants and claimed her mouth the same way, plunging his tongue into the honeyed cavern, taking possession of it. 
 

She held his head down to her, but content when they began kissing. Her hands then drifting to his shoulders and past his arms, down to the narrowing of his waist, and beyond it to caress his buttocks and pull him toward her. She reached for the Logrus, drawing in the power of chaos, and zapped away his clothes, to feel his skin against hers. 

 

She shifted again, lifting one leg to use it to caress his leg and thigh, and opening herself wider as she did so.

 

He growled as she writhed against him, deliberately using her body to tempt, to entice, to torment him.  He rolled her nipples between his fingers and moved lower on the bed taking one in his mouth.  She arched up, pushing herself closer as he suckled and then licked and then bit, only to repeat the torture until she moaned.  Then he moved to her other nipple as his hand stroked and caressed her skin, the satin skin that he couldn't get enough of. 

She was almost sobbing by the time he lifted his mouth from her breast and began to taste and kiss his way down over her narrow waist, defining each rib, each contour before moving on to the next.  He stroked her thighs, down the outside of them and then up the inner faces, teasing her with a light brush of the curls at the junction of her legs before he retraced his route in reverse.  By the time he reached her belly button, stabbing into it with his tongue, she was thrashing under him, her nails raking his shoulders. 

He lifted his head again to look at her, his breath catching at the sight.  She was so beautiful, so incredibly gorgeous in her wantonness, spread out before him, the candlelight flickering over her, making and shifting shadows.  She was as mysterious as the night, proud as be-damned and more sensual, more erotic and enticing than anything he'd imagined. 

He tightened his hold on her, keeping her pinned and lowered his mouth to her curls, pushing them aside with his tongue so that the taste her filled his senses, tracing lightly at first, delineating every fold of flesh, every hollow and crevice, mapping them out.  Then he revisited every one with merciless intent, licking and sucking, filling himself with her taste, scraping his teeth over every inch, making it all his.  He filled her with his tongue, spearing her, plunging it in and out before he replaced it with his fingers, working them deep inside of her, as deep as he planned to go.  He took her to the edge and held her there for long minutes, then he'd drop back, soothing her.  He did it over and over again, until she was as mindless as he wanted her.
 

And Fiona was mindless, lost in that place where agony and pleasure warred, climaxing until she thought she'd die of pleasure. Then he'd ease up to let her catch her emotional breath. It was torture, to be so pleasured. But now she wanted him inside her, his erection burning against her thigh, not letting her forget it, wanting to drive him to the places he'd been driving her. 

 

She'd had sex before, not a lot, but still, it wasn't like this was something new. Yet, somehow it was new. At a level she hadn't known, hadn't been gifted with before. It had been she giving not receiving, and his pleasure the focus, not hers. It felt almost sinful this time he'd spent driving her to the edges of raw emotion, the feeling that one more second of that level of sexual fulfillment would kill her.  She groaned and tried to reach for his erection, but his weight on her kept her helpless. She laughed, or maybe she cried, she couldn't tell the difference.

 

He lifted his head, scanning her body again, drinking in the lushness of her.  Then he slid up, lifting her legs over his shoulders, bracing himself over her.  The he pressed the blunt head of his erection at her entrance and waited for her to open her eyes, to look at him.  He wanted to watch her, her face, her eyes, the ripple of emotion and feeling playing over her features as he entered her.  When she did, he lifted her hips in his hands and pulled her flush against him as he thrust home, sending her flying into another orgasm, screaming his name softly.

She was scalding hot, wet and silken, her muscles clamping around him so tightly he had to grit his teeth, holding onto his control by a thread.  He waited again, moving only the slightest amount while she rode it out and then when the contractions ceased, he moved deeper, long steady thrusts, angling her hips so that she took all of him, so that the friction of each slide into her stroked the bundle of nerves at her cleft.  She was so damn responsive, so sensitive, so open to everything he wanted to give her.  She made no effort to hide how much she enjoyed this, how much she wanted it, want him and it was an incredible aphrodisiac.
 

He leaned forward, kissing her nipple, her throat, and then her jaw, working his way to her mouth, that perfect, lush mouth that fascinated him.  He covered it with his at the same time he changed his pace, moving faster, plunging deeper and harder, driving both of them up into the clouds and then hurled her off the cliff into the fire storm. 

She screamed again, tearing her mouth from his, her head arched back, her hips bucking, her whole body bowed and caught up in it, her fingers digging deep into her shoulders, her nails carving half moons into his skin.  She spasmed around him so hard he thought his head was going to burst as he let go of his control, thrusting into her as deep as he could go, hard and fast.  And then it was upon him, taking him over as he exploded into her.

She gripped him as tight as she could with her thighs, her inner muscles, her arms wrapped around him holding him down, whispering mindless words to him, trying to push him to his own limits, or at least make sure he reached as far as he could. He shuddered in her arms and she clung to him, their sweat mingling, her wet hair and his mingling, she kissing him now, until finally the last of his shuddering ended and he sank down onto her, the two of them glued together with mingled exhaustion and contentment.

When he could breathe again he rolled off of her, pulling her against the his length and pillowing her head on his chest.  He moved her hair off her face, rubbing the silky strands between his fingers for a moment before he worked the covers loose and drew them up over them.  She was asleep even before he finished.