"P. N. Elrod & Nigel Bennett - His Father's Son" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elrod P N)

name of the Goddess in her crisis, once, twice, before uttering a long wordless cry of exultation. The
tension abruptly departed from her, and with a little sigh, she went completely limp. Disturbing for a
moment, it gave him pause, but her heart still beat strongly; her blood still flowed to him.
He took in another fiery draught.
Sabra’s hand was on his shoulder, fingers digging into his bare flesh. Now was he able to break off,
lifting away to open his eyes. Sabra’s dark head was bowed over the girl’s other arm as she drank from the
same fount. The sight excited him in a manner he’d never known before. He instantly understood what he
wanted to do next, but wasn’t certain how to bring it about.
As if in response to his thought, Sabra raised herself, her blood-flushed gaze meeting his before sliding
down to his hard manhood showing beneath the blanket.
No use trying to deny it. “Forgive me, my lady, I—”
There is nothing to forgive. She leaned forward, her warm lips brushing his like a butterfly’s wings.
She left behind the taste of Ghislaine’s blood.
“Have you had enough?” she asked, drawing his blanket clear.
“No,” he answered, decisively reaching for her. He stripped away the robe and lifted her small body
effortlessly, pulling her right across the slumbering Ghislaine and onto him. Her legs straddled his hips and
she gasped as he entered her. She fell forward upon his chest. His mouth on hers, he kissed and licked at
the blood there until it was quite gone.
Not enough.
He was aflame like a fever victim. This was no languorous, dream-filled lovemaking, but a primitive and
frenzied coupling, as needs he’d never been aware of took him over. Sabra seemed caught up in it as well
as her kisses became deeper, more intense, more fierce. She rode against him with bruising force, nails
clawing his chest. Then her mouth fastened on his throat, and he felt the sharp dent of her teeth breaking
his skin. He pressed her close, panting as she drank. It was almost the same as when she’d killed him to
bring about his change, only this time he stayed gloriously awake as his red life went into her.
She suddenly drew back, eyes shut, her body convulsing in time to his thrusts. He watched her face,
reveling in her rapture, taking it for his own. When her moans ceased, he pulled her close again, pushing her
head to one side to make taut the skin of her neck. His mouth yawned, his teeth piercing one of her surface
veins, and he drew hard at the wounds until all that he’d shared rushed back to him again. It overwhelmed
all his senses, stealing away the last of his control. Then came his own explosive release as his seed drove
into her; the combined impetus of it and the blood gusted through him like a firestorm. It swept him up and
out of himself, his soul tumbling helplessly in the searing heat.
The last thing he heard in the chaos was his own laughter as he embraced the red wind.

Sabra’s lithe body gradually slipped away from his, leaving him sprawled on the cushions, puffing and
slick with sweat, invigorated and at the same time exhausted. She lay next to him, -apparently in much the
same state. With a lazy hand he touched his throat. It was sticky with fresh blood, but completely healed.
He saw Sabra’s skin had also knitted, wholly unmarked but for a few telltale smears. Some minutes later
she recovered first and sat up to examine the still sleeping Ghislaine.
“Is it well with her?” he asked drowsily. “She is not hurt?”
“The wounds are small and bled little once we were finished. Mind that you always cleanse them
afterward, yourself as well.” Sabra got up, drawing her robe on again and went to a table holding a slender
wine vessel to pour some onto a square of cloth. She used it to wash away the stains on her lips and throat,
then tended to those marring the girl’s arms. “Fresh water from a swift stream or rain will do, but wine is
best; the sting prevents the flesh from corrupting. Fill a cup for her; she’ll need a restorative.”
Richard rolled slowly to his feet and did as he was bidden, handing the cup to her, then followed her
example and cleaned himself. He found and pulled on a long tunic before dropping onto the bed again.
Sabra touched the girl gently on the side of her face, speaking her name. Ghislaine’s eyes fluttered open,
and she looked about with some confusion, then alarm, struggling to rise.
“My lady, I’m sorry, I did not mean to—”