CW: more blood, all the trauma, and surprise "funeral sex" ... yes, it's a thing. It's amazing how death makes you realize just how precious life is, how limited the time we have truly is. Nothing is guaranteed.
So don't waste your days and years, friends. Make time to live. Remember to savor.
Copyright © 2022 TSM. All rights reserved.
Chapter 5
Ripples
By some miracle, her heart was still beating, but it had already begun to slow. He couldn't seem to move his feet fast enough. His arms were like lead as he carried her through the back streets of Budapest – to safety, to home – but he couldn't help but wonder if she'd make it in time.
Danny was soaked in Camilla's blood, a warm and sticky sweetness that normally would have tempted him to the point of ravenous hunger, but after today, he wasn't sure he'd ever have a taste for blood again.
Not after this.
His back was still screaming and his legs were ready to give out at any moment, but still, Danny pushed onward, even as the sun slipped behind the horizon.
"We're almost there," he panted between steps, the pounding in his head mirroring the declining rhythm of her heart. "We're almost there, just hold on."
Camilla whimpered against his broad chest, arms still loosely wrapped around his neck.
"I want to see my baby," she whispered, her voice so weak, he had to strain to hear her – but given the way she had screamed and fought her way to freedom, he couldn't blame her.
He had never witnessed a more ferocious human in all his decades of living.
It was as if she had had a lifetime of rage inside of her and for the first time in her long and miserable existence, it had finally been given permission to be unleashed. She had taken a shot to the stomach by that sneering whore who had outed them, but the villain hadn't lasted once Camilla had gotten on top of her. He'd never forget it – the sight of those bony hands circled around the nameless female's neck, crushing her throat with an inhuman strength before she then started to ram the back of her skull against the pavement over and over and over.
Danny had practically had to peel the woman off of her after he had dispatched the roused guard, acquiring a gun in the process, should anyone else try to sneak up on them. He would have insisted on getting Camilla's wounds tended to, but she would not brook any argument from him.
They wouldn't be stopping anywhere unless it was at Carmen's.
End of discussion.
She had attempted to walk beside him, but once the adrenaline had worn off, the pain and wooziness of blood loss caught up with her.
Danny did his best to put pressure on the wound, having wrapped it up with what cloth he could conjure from the loading dock. But the damage had been done, and not even the most skilled of healers could save her now – not with the way she was bleeding out.
He would have offered to turn her, but he was already starving, so afraid that if he bit her, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from bleeding her dry.
And so he had chosen to carry her instead.
She had liberated him and would undoubtedly die for her sacrifice.
The least he could do was get her to Carmen's so she could see her daughter… just once.
And so Danny continued to push himself to the brink of exhaustion, past the hunger and the pain that echoed in his bones, the grief that threatened to drown him. He just had to hold on a little longer. Just a few more blocks, and then he could shatter.
"We're almost there," he said again. "Just stay with me, Camilla… just stay with me a little longer."
"I want my baby…"
"I know… we're almost there. Just stay awake. Five more minutes and you can see her, I promise…"
The human woman mumbled something against his skin, her hold around his neck weakening. Her heart had slowed another fraction of a beat.
Danny's throat tightened as unshed tears pricked his eyes.
"Just hold on… please. Hold on," and he quickened his pace, drawing from what little reserves he had left to tap into that supernatural speed that came with being one of the undying.
He'd undoubtedly regret it later, but he didn't care.
He pushed.
And then pushed some more, willing himself to ignore the pain, the ache in his chest, the way Camilla's heart continued to slow as her blood soaked them both. The realization sent a shiver of cold through him as he paused to look back, realizing that they had been trailing droplets of blood behind them like breadcrumbs.
No!
No, he couldn't lead Basilio here… not after everything.
Danny crouched down suddenly in the nearby alley, paying no heed to the woman's protests when he placed her on the ground, eyes scanning the trash-lined backstreet for something… anything he could use to mop up some of this blood – at least enough of it for them to make it the rest of the way without leaving more of a trail behind them.
With sudden desperation and a wave of anxiety that made his chest painfully tight, Danny started to tear through one of the nearby bins of trash, dumping it out onto the pavement.
Nothing.
Nothing he could use.
He found another container and immediately he pushed it over onto its side, tearing through it with his bare hands, even as the stench of garbage threatened to send him into a fit of dry heaving.
"Come on… come on," he pleaded, silently praying for a miracle, a tender mercy from heaven… something.
And then he spotted it.
An old discarded shirt.
It was torn down the front and covered in the devil knew what, but it would have to do.
Danny tore it into long strips, tying the ends together to make one long make-shift strip of bandage, and then he tightly wrapped it around Camilla's abdomen. She groaned at the new pressure on her open wound, but offered no word of complaint as he tied the fabric off and then quickly examined his work.
"That should hold long enough for us to get there."
"I'm sorry," she muttered, eyes fluttering as if she were struggling to stay conscious.
"Don't apologize – it's my fault. I should have realized sooner that we were leaving a blood-trail," and he lifted her up into his arms again.
"He'll find you – Basilio will find all of you."
"No he won't," Danny insisted as he took off at a jog, glancing behind him occasionally to make sure they weren't leaving a path behind them.
Camilla fell into silence once again, the occasional whimper the only real indication that she was still conscious, let alone alive. Her heartbeat continued to slow.
The sun had set entirely by the time they reached Carmen's.
The relief at seeing that alley door had tears streaming down Danny's filthy face as he lifted a very silent Camilla up a bit in his arms so he could free up a hand to enter the passcode that would unlock the back entrance.
The warmth of the place had his knees trembling, threatening to give out as the sound of familiar voices reached his ears.
They were all congregated in the front room… he just had to take a few more steps. Just a few more.
But Camilla's heart had slowed even more, and he was so tired, so weak.
The safety of the place, of being home… He immediately hit an invisible wall that sent his strength crumbling far more rapidly than it had previously. His knees wobbled, but still he continued to trudge forward.
"Has anyone heard from either of them?" he heard Carmen asking. "Damon never came home and he hasn't picked up his phone once."
"I've been trying to get a hold of Danny for the last hour and nothing," Rémy explained. "And I dropped by his flat on my way over, but he wasn't there. I figured he had left already…"
"I haven't seen him since last night."
"Any idea where they were headed?" he heard Frankie say next, followed by the sound of a thud against a nearby wall. "Try aiming a little higher, V. You almost had the bullseye!"
"I wasn't trying to hit it," Vesper said with no small amount of snark. "This…" and the sound of another thump could be heard, "is what happens when I try."
"Alright, alright – no need to get all smartass on me," Frankie called out fondly.
"We should go look for them," Vlad's voice came in next. "If something happened last night and we still haven't heard back yet, there's no telling what…"
"Oh my God! Danny!"
It was Carmen who had interjected with the proclamation, her words bringing all eyes to the hall where Danny was now standing, still holding Camilla in his arms.
He had little notion of the sight they provided, but how he looked was the furthest thing from his mind.
His eyes fell over his friends, his family, slowly – one person at a time. It was too much. All of it was too much.
He had made it. He was safe.
But Damon…
And Camilla…
The cost.
Danny fell to his knees with a sob, the wood creaking underneath his weight. Camilla fell out of his arms and onto the floor in front of him.
Blood. There was so much blood. He hadn't even realized how much until he looked at Vesper, the shock of it in her face.
Camilla opened her eyes, weakly turning her head as her gaze immediately fell on that of the dhampir in the corner, a set of throwing knives situated between the girl's fingers.
The woman let out a soft cry as tears of joy and relief sprang up, already spilling down her cheeks. She reached out a trembling hand and took a breath to call out to the girl, to the daughter she hadn't seen in the flesh since Frankie had snuck her out of the Spider's bordello all those years ago as an infant.
But the exhale outward never came.
And Danny listened as the Camilla's heart finally gave out.
The grief shattered him.
The sounds that broke out of his mouth were so foreign to his ears. The sobbing, the anguished wailing, the incomprehensible babble as an illogical guilt took hold of him, threatening to swallow him whole.
He had survived, but why? Why him? Why was he still here?
He hadn't realized he had been screaming the words until Frankie had grabbed his face in her hands, kneeling in front of him as she fought to get him to look into her eyes.
"Danny… Danny, sweetie, look at me. Look at me!" she commanded him, shaking him once.
Her eyes were glowing violet, but there was a sorrow there that he recognized, that he now knew for himself. It lived in him now. He fractured again, another splintering crack in his heart. He didn't want to carry this. He couldn't survive it. He didn't want to live… not like this. Not with the weight of this on him.
"I know," she said in reply. He must have spoken the words aloud again without realizing…
He couldn't stop crying, couldn't stop the hollow ache that was growing inside of him; an endless, suffocating black hole. Francesca leaned forward suddenly and rested her brow against his, tears of her own now streaming down her cheeks.
"You don't have to carry it alone," she whispered. "I'll carry it with you."
Before he could even realize what it was she was offering, he felt it – the gentle prodding of her mind to his, a warm, soothing caress in his brain. Without even meaning to, he opened for her and then she flooded in just as he flooded out.
He wept like a baby in her hands as she absorbed his memories, his pain… all of it.
And not just the last twenty-four hours, but several lifetimes of existence.
The weight of immortality, pouring out of every crack and fracture in his broken soul. She took it all – freely and without a moment's hesitation.
And when it was done, the relief left him deadweight as he finally succumbed to unconsciousness, falling back onto the floor.
While Carmen cleaned up the mess in the hall, Lyra took care of Camilla's body. Vlad and Rémy carried the unconscious Danny into an upstairs bathroom where they bathed and dressed him before putting him in one of the spare bedrooms. Jacob had gone out, on Frankie's order, to clean up as much of the blood-trail has he could before Basilio and his men could use it to track them down; but he had returned a short time later with the news that a freak rainstorm had blown in to do his job for him – a miracle from an unusually merciful God, as far as he was concerned.
This left Frankie to sit alone in the war room, still sifting and sorting through Danny's memories in utter silence as she nursed her third bottle of blood. Vesper was seated in a chair beside her. The girl hadn't uttered a word since the incident, practically a ghost as she stared off into space, clearly processing.
She had never met or seen her biological mother before tonight, and Frankie was fairly certain that the image of the woman, near skeletal and bleeding out, would haunt the young dhampir's dreams for decades to come.
But one by one, everyone congregated into the conference room once they had completed their tasks, silent and grave as they took their seats around the table. Frankie only spoke once Vlad had entered, her eyes immediately searching for his.
"How is he?" she asked.
"Still unconscious," her brother answered as Vladislaus closed the door behind them. "He'll need to feed when he wakes up. How are you though? Did you…"
"Yes," she said with a nod, attention on her brother for just a moment before her eyes found Vlad's again. "And I'm fine."
She waited for her brother and Dracula to settle in their seats.
Then she explained what she had gathered from Danny's memories.
"They were captured by Basilio – a trap. He used Morene as the bait."
Vlad stiffened imperceptibly at the name of the woman, but no one else seemed to notice.
"He had tortured her for information about the alliance… and she talked. Quite a bit, apparently."
Everyone in the room was holding their breath.
"The good news is, the Spider still has no idea where we're located. The bad news…" and she paused, looking at Vesper for a beat before meeting Carmen's gaze. "He knows," was all she said.
That seemed to be enough for the Spaniard. She swore under her breath.
"Knows what?" Dracula asked.
"He knows about me, doesn't he?" Vesper finally spoke, her voice so small it was almost a whisper. "That's why she was here…because she thought I wasn't safe from him anymore."
Frankie nodded, knowing perfectly well that the she the girl was referring to was Camilla.
"And Damon?" Rémy asked.
"Dead," Frankie replied.
Carmen swore once again, a little more violently that time.
"How?" the woman demanded.
"You don't want to know," was the only answer Francesca would supply. She then looked to her brother. "You should know though that the sun-proofing chip you installed in Danny a while back… it's what saved him."
Carmen slammed her fist down on the table, standing abruptly.
"You should have given Damon one!" she barked at Rémy suddenly, much to the surprise of not only the others, but Rémy in particular.
"I offered it to him months ago," he said calmly, "but he said he didn't want it. He insisted the daylight charm he had was enough."
"Then you should have forced it on him!" she shouted. "Damon is dead because of your negligence!"
"Carmen, that's not fair," Lyra said carefully. "You know I'm always ready to take him to the mat for his bullshit decisions, but this is not one of them. Damon's blood is not on his hands. It's on Basilio's."
But the Spaniard didn't seem to care.
Without uttering another word, Carmen stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.
The tension that lingered afterward was borderline oppressive.
"Do you want me to talk to her?" Frankie offered her brother.
His eyes were downcast, shoulders sagging as if Carmen's words had not only hit their mark, but had already begun to take root in him. She knew that look – knew his penchant for carrying the weight of the dead.
It was a family tradition, after all. Only it was usually Frankie that did most of the carrying. She didn't like to see her brother doing the same. Especially not right now.
He shook his head, declining her offer. Then he stood.
"Lyra, I need you to take Vesper to stay with the lycans for a few days – at least until we can ensure that this compound is still out of Basilio's reach. If Isabella gives you any grief…"
"She won't," the redhead assured him. "Not when she knows what's happened."
"Jake – I'm going to need you to reinforce the wards we already have on this place."
"Consider it done."
"And if there's any sort of magical help you can offer Danny for the trauma – on top of what Frankie has already done…"
"I'm sure I could dig up something – maybe something in case he ends up having any dreams," and he looked to Frankie knowingly. She only nodded.
"Thank you." Rémy then turned to Vlad. "Are we good to go with Lee and his shadows?"
"We are," Dracula replied. "If you need some formal evidence of the coalition…"
"That won't be necessary. I trust you. I need you to have him set up a watch on Basilio – his movements, his regimen, any haunts or habits that we don't already know about. I plan to nail that son of a bitch to the wall at the earliest opportunity, and this time I intend to hold the upper hand."
"I'll speak to Feng tonight."
"Good."
"What can I do?" Frankie asked, noting how he had purposefully left her out.
"You're carrying enough of the weight already."
"I can carry more," she insisted, sitting up in her seat. But her brother only shook his head.
"You've already gotten us the Oradea pass and opened the door for an alliance with Lee Feng. I want you to focus on your training with Vlad and on strengthening the alliance with Dracula."
Frankie opened her mouth to argue but one look from Lyra had her snapping her mouth shut.
"What are you going to do?" Vesper asked quietly.
Rémy sighed heavily, hands resting on the edge of the table in front of him as he leaned forward a bit, clearly struggling with something.
"I'm going to have a talk with Carmen." Lyra snorted back a hollow laugh, earning a faint grin from the man. "Wish me luck?"
The redhead smirked.
"My money is on her, always… but good luck. You'll need it."
"Yeah, no shit," he said with a chuckle. He then looked to Vesper. "All right, young lady. We need to get you packed and out of here. I want you and Lyra out the door in twenty minutes."
"I'll call Tristan so he can give Isabella the heads up that we're coming," Lyra offered. Frankie privately wondered when the last time was that her brother and best friend had gotten along so congenially. She honestly couldn't remember.
"I'd appreciate that."
An hour later, Carmen's was absolutely silent.
With Jacob upstairs to tend to the still unconscious Danny, Rémy had situated himself at the bar in the front room to keep watch. He was busy nursing some vile concoction of werewolf-venom-laced booze with a shot of vampire blood that Vlad had turned him on to when Carmen entered from the hall.
"You're still here," she said, sounding a lot less embittered than she had a little while ago.
"That I am," Rémy answered blandly, watching her out of the corner of his eye as she made her way over to him.
"You don't need to be," she replied candidly. "Even with Danny out of commission, I've got Jacob here in case Basilio shows his ugly mug and things go to shit, which, honestly, if he hasn't yet, he probably won't any time this evening. You should go home."
You're not needed here. I don't need you.
That's what she wasn't saying.
The unspoken words stung bitterly and to numb the pang, he took another drink from his glass.
"I'm not going anywhere," he stated. "Not until I can be certain everyone is safe."
"Oh please, Rémy – we're fine. Vesper is in lycan territory and I have the most powerful warlock in the city at my disposal. Your time is wasted here. Just go."
She made a move to return to wherever she had come from, but he grabbed her by the arm suddenly, putting an abrupt halt to her exit.
"I can't," he insisted.
"Why not?" she shot at him, tugging at his grip on her arm.
"Because you're not safe here anymore without Damon to look after you!" he snapped suddenly. His expression fractured with the kind of worry she had only seen on him whenever his sister was in trouble; but never for anyone else. "Because my best friend almost died and I had no fucking idea. Because that monster now knows about Vesper, about you. He knows who you are, Carmen… and I– I can't let him…"
But his words trailed off as tears started to burn in his eyes and he turned his face away, expression riddled with shame.
He couldn't bring himself to utter the words, a secret truth he had kept buried for so long now.
No – it was better to stay silent.
Carmen, meanwhile, had gone utterly still, her eyes fixed on her best friend's brother, on the man she had held a torch for, for decades now. She had seen nearly ever side and facet to Rémy Chase, had witnessed nearly every emotion… except this one. For the life of her, she couldn't seem to place it. He seemed so… vulnerable all of a sudden.
The woman sighed a little through her nose, recalling how she had blamed Damon's murder on him. She hadn't meant it – and she had thought he knew that, understood that she had just been angry… Never in a million years would Carmen have believed he'd take something like that to heart. Her expression softened when he finally released her arm.
"Rémy…" she began, but he interrupted her, roughly brushing a tear from his eye before it could tumble down his cheek and he straightened in his seat, his voice hard.
"I'm not leaving."
The woman watched him with utter diligence, studying his profile as she waited expectantly for him to say more… she could sense that there was indeed more he wanted to say. But he wouldn't even look at her now and so with a heavy exhale, she turned to leave.
"I can't lose you," he said before she could reach the back hall. The words had been barely a whisper, yet she had heard them with perfect clarity. Their utterance brought her to a sudden halt. "I know that you can handle yourself; you've done so just fine with very little help from anyone for decades now. But I promised Ramón I would look out for you, that'd I'd take care of you as if you were my own… but you've always been so willful and independent. You never really needed my help with anything. I've tried so hard not to hover, not to impede or insert myself where I'm not needed… but I can't keep pretending that I don't…"
He trailed off, voice shaky with emotion.
With a trembling hand, he brought his glass to his lips and downed the remainder of his drink in a single breath.
The burn in his gullet was better than this… than feeling so helpless, so exposed. He brought his hand to his face, scrubbing his cheeks roughly to distract himself.
"If I can't keep you safe from the Spider," he asserted, "then I'd rather die trying if it comes to that. It's better than being miles away, completely oblivious to the danger until it's too late. I've already failed Danny and Damon… I cannot – I will not lose you, too, Carmen. I willnot. I couldn't bear it."
Carmen's heart had fluttered up into her throat.
There was no way she was hearing this… not right now. Not after everything that had happened in the last year alone!
But she couldn't stop herself.
She took a cautious step forward.
"Do you…" The words died in her mouth before she could finish uttering them, as if some part of her thought better of asking the question that had taken to sitting on the tip of her tongue. "Are you… are you saying…"
Her voice trailed off a second time, but it was the faint smile that curved his mouth that nearly undid her on the spot.
He hadn't made an attempt to return her gaze, his eyes still fixed on his empty glass, but she knew he was watching her out of his periphery. A part of her wondered if he had always kept her in the corner of his eye, always looking out for her, lingering forever on the fringes.
"You know, contrary to popular belief, I'm not as oblivious as everyone likes to think I am," he said, finally turning to face her fully. She almost snorted at his comment, but refrained when she realized…
"How long have you known?" she asked, blanching a little in embarrassment.
"That you have feelings for me? A while. A long while."
She would have slapped him had the shock of it not completely paralyzed her.
Carmen watched with an unblinking expression of disbelief as he carefully slid off the barstool to stand.
"Carmen Guillermo, I have loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you," he confessed. "But you were married. And not just married, you were blood-bound, happily devoted and in love with one man and one man only… and I envied Ramón. Envied and hated and admired him… and he knew. He knew how I felt about you when the rest of the world was completely blind to it."
"That's why he asked you to take care of me after he…"
"It was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me," he answered with a genuinely moved expression. "He loved you so much that even on the brink of true death, all he could think about was you, your happiness. He said that if you would have me – for a little while or for forever – I would have his blessing."
Tears pooled in Carmen's eyes, as she pressed her hand over her agape mouth. Her chest had grown tight as her heart swelled with emotion – gratitude for the man who had loved her so thoroughly, and incomprehensible joy at the notion that the one she had come to care for so unrequitedly since had actually adored her all this time.
When Carmen had lost Ramón, when his death had severed their blood-bond, she had been convinced she'd never even be capable of love again. And while nothing and no one would ever be able to replace her husband – she had come to terms with that decades ago – what she had come to feel for Rémy had been so persistent, she had long since given up hope of ever having such affections returned. And now to have them not just validated, but requited…
There was still that lick of fire in her that wanted to strangle him for keeping that secret for so long, for parading his other lovers about as he had when he knew how she felt about him, but when she started to ask, he seemed to anticipate her and replied,
"I've been around long enough to know how blood-bonds work," Rémy explained. "I know that no one will ever compare to him, that no one could ever take his place in your heart. When he died, I felt so guilty watching you mourn him. Like I was somehow responsible… and the fact that he even gave his blessing when he loved you so much… I knew he would always be ten times the man I could ever be, that I would never have any hope of ever surpassing him in your estimation. It made me feel so inferior, unworthy of you, because if it had been me in his position, I never would have had the heart to share you with anyone."
"That's a shit excuse, and you know it," she countered, in spite of the smile that remained on her face.
"I've behaved abominably, I know."
"Worse that abominably, Rémy Chase. Do you have any idea what it was like for me to watch you cavort with so many dimwitted, floosy females that danced their way through my bar and into your lap night after night, week after week, year after year… how humiliating it was to still want you, even though so much of my soul still loved and mourned my husband, all while simultaneously craving your attention, even though I had all but convinced myself that I would be forever invisible to you in that regard…"
To his credit, the man made no effort to defend his actions.
"It was entirely selfish of me, I know…"
"You are an infuriating, unmitigated ass, Reynaud!"
The man exhaled heavily, but then the corner of his lips twitched into a shy grin.
"And yet… you still love me," he answered.
Carmen scoffed, though she didn't deny it. Her pride wished she could. Loving him had always left her feeling so conflicted – like she was betraying the memory and devotion of her husband, yet still, the feelings had persisted. She couldn't deny them; it was impossible – they both knew it. And she never could resist that boyishly charming smile of his – the one on his face right now.
"I resigned myself to the fact that I would never been worthy enough for a woman of your caliber a long time ago," he explained. "And I don't expect you to just forget Ramón, nor do I have any hopes of replacing him. I don't want to, I just…" He sighed, shaking his head a little before looking back at her with a kind of determination in his eyes, that business tone she knew so well seeping into his voice as he continued, "It doesn't matter. I'm staying here whether you like it or not, so you can either let me park myself here in my seat," and he patted the stool beside him, "or I'll go sit out on the roof all night. I don't care. But I'm not leaving you alone and unprotected, Carmen. Yes, I'm a selfish prick, and I will never be worthy of you now, especially after all of the shit I've pulled, but…"
He would have continued, but Carmen had closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, reaching for his face with both hands before whispering,
"You should know better than to tell me who is and is not worthy of me, Rémy Chase."
And then she kissed him.
It took Rémy perhaps all of three seconds to respond, his arms instinctively wrapping around her waist to bring her flush against him, even after she broke the kiss. She tilted her head with a smile and started to lean forward again to kiss him once more, but he pulled back a little, halting her progress.
"So I can stay?"
"What do you think?" she asked smartly, punctuating the rhetorical question with another kiss. When she felt the gentle slide of his tongue against the seam of her lips, a probing question, she opened for him, meeting the silken caress with one of her own.
They spoke in a language of hands and suckling lips, of heavy-lidded looks and shared breath.
It was no surprise to either when the kisses soon weren't enough. The soft writhing of her body against his as she rose to meet his every kiss, the press of her breasts to his chest, her hips meeting his… Rémy broke away breathless for just a minute, that budding pressure at the base of his spine becoming unbearable.
The look she gave him then told him everything he needed to know, but still he asked,
"Are you sure this is what you want? After everything that just happened with Danny… and Damon…"
At the name of her recently deceased lover, Carmen sighed heavily, resting her arms on his shoulders. Yet, she made no effort to pull away from him.
"I mourn Damon," she said after some deliberation. She then took one of her hands and gently caressed his mouth with her fingertips. "And I will continue to mourn him for some time… but you were always the one I wanted. He understood that." She leaned forward and rested her brow to his, the fingers that had been on his lips now carding through his hair. "You and I will always be surrounded by death. It's an unavoidable consequence of immortality. So maybe it makes me selfish, maybe it doesn't – but right now, I'm not particularly keen on a philosophical debate. I don't even care about what comes tomorrow. Tomorrow can wait. All I know is that we've wasted enough time already, so if you don't fuck me this instant, I will throw you out the front door by your ass."
Rémy laughed and never had Carmen heard a more wonderful sound.
That smile he wore – it was for her and her alone.
And it warmed her all the way down to her toes.
"I'm serious, Rémy… I've waited decades for you. I'm not waiting another sec…" but her words were cut off with his lips on hers. And then he slid his tongue into her mouth as if he owned it, the slick caress of him unspooling her insides so rapidly, she had to wrap her arms fully around his neck to stay upright.
His hand palmed over a breast and she lifted herself up onto her toes so she could lean into the touch.
Somewhere between the kissing and the impatient discarding of clothes, they stumbled through the back hall and into the war room, their mutual anticipation mounting. Rémy couldn't seem to stop touching her, his palms, his fingers always on the move – caressing, molding, smoothing, feeling. Until not one inch of her was left uncharted.
When he finally took her, it was on the conference room table – one of her knees over his shoulder, the other leg wrapped around his waist. That first thrust into her welcoming body nearly killed him, tears of relief and a joy so profound pricking at his eyes as she moaned underneath him, her fingers digging into the skin of his back until she was gripping fistfuls of muscle.
Alive.
She made him feel alive.
And when she kissed him, he shattered in her hold, all previously good intentions to savor this abandoned for a mutually frantic coupling.
It wasn't long before Carmen came undone beneath him, her death grip on his shoulders punctuated by the sharp prick of her nails digging into his flesh. She rode out the wave of her climax with an ecstatic cry – the culmination of decades of longing, finally bidden fruition. The feel of her coming around his cock had him following shortly after, and when the orgasm took him, he went momentarily blind from the pleasure of it.
Rémy collapsed into her waiting embrace, finding a home in her softness that cradled his body in the most effortless and natural way. He couldn't recall the last time he had felt more content, more at home than he did in that moment, still inside of her, her arms wrapped around him.
And then she started to finger-comb his hair, nails lightly scratching along his skull, making him purr. She chuckled at the sound and he lifted his head from the place on her breast where he had momentarily taken rest, ready to kiss her when someone cleared their throat.
Both turned their heads in shock to find Jacob leaning against the doorway. His arms were folded over his chest and he had the most self-satisfied smirk either party had ever seen plastered to his face.
"I'm all for funeral sex… or whatever this is, it's really none of my business – but next time you may want to shut the door."
Carmen flushed and immediately turned her head away to hide her face, but Rémy only chuckled.
"Noted."
"Also, if you don't mind me saying so… it's about damn time."
"Oh my god, why are you still standing there?!" the woman exclaimed, half laughing as she did so. "Shut the damn door!"
Rémy didn't seem all that disturbed, though he did make a point to keep Carmen covered with his body. He sent his brother-in-law a smug grin – like a cat that had finally managed to get into the cream.
"Do you mind?"
Jake reached for the handle of the door, pulling it toward him to close it.
"Not at all. As you were."