Our little dessert break left me cranked up all over again. My
pussy pulsed and clenched with every sloppy spoonful she brought
to my mouth. She intentionally made a mess, letting me lick the
chocolate syrup and whipped cream from her fingers. The sugar
rush led to a laughing fit that somehow gave me the bright idea to
actually try to screw Camila with the strap-on. That plan came up
short the moment she pulled the straps around my hips.
• 181 •
reBekah WeatherspOOn
Something about seeing me in the new leather set off the beast
in Camila’s brain. One moment I was standing at the foot of the bed
looking down as her confident hands secured the harness on my
body, and the next I was on my back on the floor, Camila’s head
buried between my legs. Annoyed that she hadn’t even let me try
the pink dildo out, I actually put up a fight. Which was pretty stupid.
She gripped my hips tighter and drew the length of her fang down
the side of my clit. My back shot up off the marble floor and my
orgasm shuddered through my body. Momentary blindness didn’t
keep me from feeling my juices gushing over her tongue and chin.
She pulled away, not bothering to ease me down from the high
peak she put me on. As soon as I could see straight, I pounced on
her. She let me take her to the floor. I wasn’t surprised how easily
her legs fell open. She let me in, letting me taste her for the first
time. I almost came again the second my tongue lapped across her
hardened clit. She tasted so sweet, just like her strong scent mixed
with honey.
She had been so commanding and so dominating when we’d
been together, even though I wanted to badly, I never thought to go
down on her without explicit instructions to do just that. But she
hadn’t even flinched to stop me. She opened herself to me, letting
my clumsy lips and fingers explore the tight warmth of her gorgeous
slit. I admired every bit of skin, the stiff length of her clit, every
crevasse. So soft and wet. I knew it wasn’t all my doing, but I was
pleased when she came, psyched when she began rolling her hips
harder against my face until she fell apart, gripping and soaking my
fingers. She’d taken no time to come back down. She hopped to her
feet, still panting and purring, and led me back to the bed. And for
an hour, we lay there talking and touching.
I thought falling for Camila that first night we’d spent together
had been a mistake. Even having a crush on an immortal creature
like her had seemed like a bad idea. Finally feeling her react to me,
tasting her as she came apart because of something I had done, threw
my priorities completely out of whack. Now the part of my world
that mattered the most existed at night. School was still important.
I wanted my degree and I wanted to make my parents proud. Lying
• 182 •
Better Off red
in the curve of her hips, my cheek resting on her warm breast made
the real world, the one I belonged to, seem so unimportant and so
far away. No part of me wanted to go back to the ABO house, back
to school or my life. I just wanted to spend forever lying with her.
I got the distinct feeling Camila felt the same way. She was
stalling, breaking in her story as often as possible, using the freckles
along my back and arms as an excuse.
“This one looks like a bunny,” she whispered against my hair.
I yawned then nuzzled her pert nipple with the corner of my
mouth. “You’ll have to show me tomorrow. Tell me more about your
maker.”
Finally she gave in. She picked up her tale where she’d left off,
but kept up the soothing strokes along my back. I never wanted to
move again.
For as long as anyone in her family could remember, Abrah had
lived in a system of caves just north of the Sierra Norte de Oaxaca
mountain range in Southern Mexico. I listened as Camila described
the beauty of the region. It was impossible to ignore the adoration
in her voice when she talked about the mountains and lush valleys
she’d explored as a child.
An hour before, all I knew about Mexico involved escalating
drug violence, tales of dangerous border crossings, and of course
the ongoing debate over Cabo versus Jamaica for spring break. I
pictured Camila, in a different time and place, a completely different
person from the one who lay underneath me in the sheets.
Her village had been small, but a true community that lived
peacefully between the mountains and the river. The nearest town
was a considerable walking distance, but news had always reached
them. There had been devastating changes to the country and there
was always the fear that outsiders would stumble across their small
haven in the wilderness and interrupt their pleasant lives. The head
of the village had taken care to reassure his people that the outside
world would never be a threat. Their village was too remote. And
then there was their protector. Abrah, a true demon or a demon-
bourne as Camila explained it, one of only seven to escape from the
bonds of hell.
• 183 •
reBekah WeatherspOOn
The tale of Angel de las Cuevas had spread all over the land
north and south of the mountains, but only the members of Camila’s
village knew just how real their Angel of the Caves was.
His relationship with her people was very different from the
relationship the girls and I shared with the sister-queens. There
was still a sense of ceremony. When every member of the village
reached adulthood, they were first presented to Abrah, then to the
village for marriage. But everything else was different. Abrah never
took human form, living his life in the mountains as a full demon.
When he emerged to feed, he never hid the crowned horns of his
head or his majestic black wings. And he never slept with any of his
humans. Anatomically, it wouldn’t have worked, but his fangs still
gave the cold shock of ecstasy.
“He could sense our physical pleasure and our pain,” she said,
explaining why she’d never asked me to touch her. I practically
came from looking at her. The orgasms-by-contact she must have
received just from feeding would keep anyone sexually gratified.
Forever.
Camila was a late bloomer, the youngest of six children, the
only girl among five boys. Her grandfather had been a green-eyed
Scottish missionary who had been separated from his group. He
stumbled upon the village one rainy morning, and after he realized
they had absolutely no interest in killing him, decided to stay. He
took a wife, a young widow. A generation later, Camila had arrived,
hazel-eyed, and as I imagined, just as perfect as I saw her now.
Her first encounter with Abrah had been typical, but as time
passed, it became clear to everyone in the village that Camila was
his favorite. He always socialized on his visits down from the
mountains, but his main purpose was to feed. On the night of her
wedding to Lino, the
young man who had won her hand, Abrah was
there with gifts and well wishes. It was the first time he’d appeared
for such an event.
“He came back the night I found out I was pregnant.”
My head snapped up. “You had kids?”
She nodded with a soft, sad smile.
• 184 •
Better Off red
Camila had given birth early in the spring. The very same day
the developers first approached the head of the village, demanding
he take his people elsewhere. Their homes sat directly in the path
they wanted to take to the river and further on to the ocean.
“The place was no bigger than a city block,” Camila said.
“But they wanted you out.”
“They wanted the land, the trees, and uninterrupted access to
the river.” Something they would go to extreme lengths to get.
The head of the village had sent the men away, telling Camila’s
family and the families of her friends and neighbors not to worry
about the intruders. They celebrated the arrival of Camila’s children,
twin boys viewed as a blessing for the whole village, two males who
would grow into strong and proud men. Camila and Lino lived their
lives blissfully for three more years, raising their sons in peace and
willingly serving Abrah.
Camila paused for a moment. I fought the urge to ask, “Then
what happened,” like some foolish little kid. She sighed and went on
without any prodding from me.
In the three years she’d had with her family, the developer’s
company had made the decision to clear out the village and take the
land. They had heeded the warning from a neighboring town. They
may not have believed in the myth of Angel de las Cuevas, but they
were smart enough to plan their ambush for high noon, a time when
the men were away from the village, the women and children at
their most vulnerable as their demon protector, if he actually existed,
slept. She found out later that two groups had been sent out: one to
surround and burn the village, the other to round up and slaughter
all the men out in the forest.
Camila had been by the river, gathering water, when she first
heard the screams and smelled the smoke. She made it to the edge
of their clearing as the shots that killed her boys rang out. She had
never thought twice about leaving them with their grandmother, but
suddenly she wished they’d never left her side. She ran to them
anyway, ignoring the shouts of the men brandishing torches and
rifles. She described the scene to me, the fire and the blood and
bodies everywhere, but I could hardly picture it.
• 185 •
reBekah WeatherspOOn
She’d been shot in the back at the entrance to her parents’
home. The blow had knocked her to the ground. A thick-heeled
boot to the head had knocked her out. The fire burning through her
clothes ripped her back to reality sometime around dusk. I shuddered
uncontrollably against her as she said the words.
“If you can avoid it, Red, I don’t recommend being set on fire.”
She looked at me, trying just as I would have, to make light of the
situation.
“I’ll do my best.”
She took a deep breath and went on.
She’d been placed at the edge of a pile of bodies and lit on fire
along with them. She forced herself to ignore the choking smell of
burning flesh, her own flesh and that of her loved ones, and managed
to roll away from the heap. She put out the flames that had begun to
engulf her by rolling in the blood soaked dirt. With her senses better
under control, she could finally hear voices in the distance, voices
she ignored. She knew her husband was dead, knew her sons were
somewhere in the flaming heap. Heartbroken and in searing pain,
her body made decisions she didn’t think to override as she crawled
to the edge of the forest, toward the caves.
“I didn’t make it that far before I passed out again, and when
I came to, Abrah had me in his arms.” He spoke soothing words to
her, promising to save her. She was the only one left, his only child,
and he refused to let her die. She barely held on to consciousness
as he carried her swiftly through the forest all the way back to the
concealed ledges of his cave. She remembered cool ferns against
her charred skin and the golden glow of his eyes in the darkness, but
nothing else.
“When I woke up, I was completely healed and Abrah was
dead. There was a huge gash in his neck. For a long time I wondered
how I’d overpowered him, but Dalhem told me it was impossible for
a healthy human to take down a demon, especially at night.” She was
silent for a moment staring at the ceiling. There was no need for her
to go on. I didn’t want to know the rest. I saw the pain on her face.
My birth father had never existed to me and my mother had
been a piss-poor definition of the word. It couldn’t have been easier
• 186 •
Better Off red
for the Carmichaels to replace them. It was amazing to think how
great they’d turned out to be, how they’d healed me.
Abrah had saved Camila’s life, a life that she had no one left
to share with.
In the remaining darkness, her instincts had told her to drag
her maker’s body to the exposed cliffs just outside the cave. She hid
in the shadows the following day, ignoring the scent of scorched
demon flesh as Abrah’s body was ignited by the rising sun. And that
night she set out to find the men who had killed her family. She’d
drained three of them completely before Dalhem found her.
“The seven bourne-demons are linked, but Dalhem and Abrah
were spawned twins. Dalhem knew the moment I’d taken his
brother’s life and his powers.” Camila had fought him when he tried
to pull her away from the developer’s encampment. She was strong
enough to show some genuine resistance, but there was still human
in her. Dalhem’s demon quickly overpowered her and pulled her
back to the cover of the forest. Somehow, he’d been able to talk some
sense into her, convince her that the mass-murder of her family’s
killers wouldn’t bring her sons or her husband back. That age-old
lecture of the downside to revenge. He promised he would prevent
them from destroying the land, but there was nothing he could do
about the events that had already unfolded. The approaching sunrise
had been the only reason she’d given in and followed Dalhem back
to the States.
“He’d had a home set up in DC for years by the time I met him,
so he brought me there. Taught me how to use my powers, figure out
my weaknesses.”
“You have weaknesses?”
“I do, baby. Redheads being one of them,” she said, letting out
another deep breath. I looked up at her just as she looked at me and
that’s when I saw the blue tears, a few stray, translucent blue streaks
of moisture trailing down the side of her face. There hadn’t been a
hint of a tremble in her voi
ce, but of course she would cry thinking
of her family. Or course she would miss them.
• 187 •
reBekah WeatherspOOn
I jumped up on the bed beside her and didn’t hesitate to brush
the tears gently away from her face. More followed. And more even
though her voice continued with its solid rhythm.
“Lino and I would be dead by now, but Acui and Lan could still
be alive.”
“Really?” I pulled back and gazed at her young face. “How old
would they be? How old are you?”
She burst out laughing through her tears. “I’m eighty-three,
Red.”“Oh.” The disappointment in my voice made absolutely no
sense. “I thought you were older. How old were you when you
died?”“Eighteen.”
“What?” I actually yelled that time.
She huffed a short laugh, then wiped her face and sat up. “I’m
not human, baby, and you’d be surprised what a difference a little
confidence makes.”
“I guess. So we’re the same age, sorta?”
“Sorta.” She smiled.
“When’s your birthday?” I had to stop sounding like a complete
tool. “July twenty-fifth. I think. Your birthday is December fourth, if
my information from Benny is correct.”
“Ha ha. Yeah, it is.”
“Well, that gives me plenty of time to pick out a present for
you.” I felt myself blush, embarrassed by just how good the idea of
us being together three months from now sounded. I wiped away the
last traces of her tears with my thumb.
“You still want me? Even though I’m younger than you hoped?”
she asked, faking a pout. I shoved her shoulder gently.
“I’m the obsessed one, remember. I’m sorry about your family.
I can’t even imagine what that must have been like.”
“I don’t want you to. I miss them. I always will, but I have my
sisters. I have Cleo’s smartass mouth and I have you.”
“Poor substitutes,” I said, knowing I only meant it in terms of
me.
• 188 •
Better Off red
She cupped the side of my neck, stroking me with her thumb
and I found it was impossible not to look up into her shimmering
eyes.“Not a substitute, just something different and special.”
Instantly, I was done with the subject. I didn’t want her to have to
remember anymore, at least for the rest of the night.
I squared my shoulders and frowned very seriously. “There is