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Consequences	By : Sabriel0405 Category: Anita Blake > Het Views: 4737 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Anita Blake series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Title: Consequences
Chapter: 1/18
Author: Sabriel
Contact: sabriel_0405@mindspring.com
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content
Feedback: Always welcome.
Disclaimer: All characters are the intellectual property of the multi-talented Laurell K. Hamilton. The copyright belongs to her. I am borrg thg the characters solely for my own enjoyment.
Author’s note: From a timeline perspective, this takes place after CS and technically after the short story in the anthology Cravings. However, with only some minor exceptions, the events of the short story are not taken into consideration here. The idea for this story came out of a scene from CS.
Thanks: To Denise, whose praise and encouragement kept me going. I could never have done it without you!

Chapter 1

I don’t know what woke me, it could have been anything. All I know is that I went from deep sleep to complete wakefulness without passing go. My stomach heaved and I nearly tripped over Nathaniel, trying to get out of bed and into the bathroom before I threw-up all over the carpet. Iely ely made it. I clutched the toilet, retching and shaking. I felt a hand against my forehead and another combing my hair out of the way. I knew it was Micah. He didn’t say anything. He just held my forehead until the now dry heaves stopped. He sat with his back against the tiled wall and cradled me, stroking my cheek, my arm, wherever he could touch, until the sweat dried on my body and my pulse slowed to normal.

“I thought I couldn’t get sick,” I said, my voice rough, tight, almost painful.

“You can’t,” Micah replied. “At least not theoretically,” he amended when I tightened in his arms.

“Then what the fuck is wrong with me?” I asked. “This is the third morning in a row! There has to be something wrong!”

Micah was silent for longer than I expected. It made me nervous. He moved my body just slightly so that it wouldn’t be a strain for me to look him in the eyes. “Is it possible that you could be pregnant?” he asked.

I pushed myself away from him so quickly that I nearly cracked my head against the toilet. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m on the pill. Besides, you told me you’d been fixed. The only other man I’m having intercourse with is Jean-Claude and he’s over four-hundred years old. I cannot possibly be pregnant!” I didn’t wait for him to reply. I stood up and stalked out of the room. I couldn’t be pregnant. The whole thing was ridiculous. I must have picked up a stomach bug or something. I’m not a full human servant. Maybe being impervious to disease only truly came after the fourth mark.

I dressed, had coffee and left for work without speaking with either Micah or Nathaniel. Nathaniel hadn’t done anything wrong, but he must have felt something emanating from me because he handed me a cup of coffee without meeting my eyes. He was rarely that submissive with me anymore but he had to have heard the argument I had with Micah, the tone if not the actual words. Shit.

Work would have been unbearable if Bert hadn’t been there. I had a new coffee mug in the office after my last one mysteriously fell off my desk. He’d tell the cleaning crew to be more careful. Right. He wasn’t going to like this one any more than the others. “If you can’t beat them, arrange to have them beaten.” Worked for me.

Actually, I liked my job. I was handling between 3-5 raisings a night. I could have done more but with Bert, the more you did, the more you were expected to do. I let him think that covering for Larry while he finished getting his official Marshall’s badge was testing my endurance. Truth be told, I barely noticed the added work except that I was getting home so late it was difficult to stick to a schedule for feeding the ardeur. But we were managing. I was down to less than one feeding per day. No one was collapsing at work anymore. Yippee!

My cell phone rang a little after one in the morning. I had finished two of the three zombie raisings for the night and was unloading the trunk of my car for the third. I was running a little late but the last job would most likely be a quick one.

“Yeah?” I asked, a little distracted.

“Ma petite,” Jean-Claude said, his voice like whispers of silk along my spine. Sometimes the voice tricks annoyed me. Other times, like tonight, I needed to feel a connection with him and this was the closest I was going to get.

“Jean-Claude,” I breathed.

He chuckled, a low, masculine sound that made things tighten low in my body and reminded me that I hadn’t fed today and probably wouldn’t have a chance to do so until tomorrow morning. “I was hoping to see you tonight, ma petite.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “I wish I could, Jean-Claude, but I’m not through working for the night and then I really need to get some sleep.” I wasn’t kidding about the latter. Two raisings shouldn’t have sapped me, but I was feeling unusually lethargic.

Now he sighed. I could practically feel his breath against my neck. I shuddered with desire. “Stop that,”aid.aid. “I have work to do!” But there was no heat in my voice.

“Oui, ma petite, I understand. Work must come first.”

He sounded so dejected that I mentally reviewed my schedule to see if I could actually come over. “I’m sorry, Jean-Claude. I miss you, too,” I said. I even meant it. Sometimes it boggled my mind that I willingly missed a vampire but there was no question that Jean-Claude had a huge chunk of my heart. I fought it periodically, but if anything it only made the surrender that much sweeter. I was clearly damned either way.

“Je t’aime, ma petite,” he said and disconnected.

He had good timing. The lawyers were tapping their feet impatiently. If any of them had said anything to me about it, I probably would have gone out of my way to take longer but while the foot tapping didn’t cease, they were all business otherwise.

By two, I was exhausted. It wasn’t the zombie-raising. He was so newly dead that I probably could have raised him without the benefit of anything but blood but I didn’t want to advertise my power. I had enough problems. It was all I could do to drive home safely. I didn’t even get out of the car. I just rested my head on the steering wheel. I couldn’t remember ever being this tired before when I hadn’t been in a and and death struggle.

My driver’s side door opened and I justjust enough strength to pull the Firestar. Micah ignored the gun and reached over me, unhooking the seatbelt. I half leaned, half fell into his arms. “I’m tired,” I told him.

“I know,” he replied. He carried me into the house, stripped me with tender efficiency and placed me into bed before crawling into bed beside me. It was just the two of us but I didn’t have the strength to ask about Nathaniel. He was probablykingking anyway. I snuggled into Micah’s side, the heat of his skin washing over me where I touched him. I didn’t understand this sudden exhaustion but I was asleep before I could worry about it.

Unfortunately, I woke to the competing needs of throwing up and having sex. They are not an appealing combination. Micah did his forehead holding routine but didn’t make the mistake of talking to me. In fact, I uttered the first words between us, when I finally returned to the bedroom all minty fresh. “Where’s Nathaniel?”

“His set ran late so he decided to go home with Jason. It’s just you and me,” he said, eyeing me speculatively.

I was naked and his gaze heated my blood. “No one else is home?” I said, a little breathy now, the ardeur prickling along my skin. But it wasn’t just the ardeur that brought me back to Micah. It was his acceptance of everything that I am. It scared me sometimes. I keep waiting for him to be too good to be true.

“It’s just us. You can scream all you want when I when I bring you,” he said, walking over to me with muscles moving that humans simply don’t have. He was naked too and already semi-hard. I swallowed audibly.

His kiss was soft, gentle. He coaxed my mouth open with his and his tongue was hot, wet, silky. I opened my mouth wider and pressed my body into his. I broke the kiss, already breathing hard. I moved onto the bed, not wanting to get so carried away we ended up on the floor. It had happened to us before and I didn’t appreciate the rug burns.

Micah stroked his hands down my body, neither touching nor avoiding my more sensitive areas. I touched him everywhere I could, marveling at the satin texture of his skin, the muscles that reinforced his delicate frame. We kissed again, long and hard, our tongues dueling thrust for thrust. I whimpered deep in my throat. He smiled that masculine smile of surety, a smile that would have offended me in r bur but that felt so right with his erection pressing against my thigh.

He kissed along my jaw-line, moved down my neck and nipped at my collarbone. I arched into him. He licked at my nipple, short, quick flicks of his tongue. The nipple tightened and I could feel the pull deep within me. I wanted more and he knew it.

“Please,” I moaned.

“What do you want, Anita? Tell me what you want.” He teased the other nipple the same way. The pleasure was so sharp it bordered on pain.

“Please, Micah,” I said again. I wasn’t at the incoherent stage yet but I had noticed that ardeur limited my desire for fory. Iy. It didn’t make it any less fun, just much more insistent. But I would have felt like this even if the ardeur had not been riding me. From the first time we had made love, Micah had been part of me, deeper than marriage, deeper than anything physical. We were joined on the metaphysical level. Sometimes that scared me. Other times, it just felt right.

“I know you want me,” he said.

I opened my eyes. I didn’t even realize I had closed them. “You can smell it, right?” I said, tired of having weres and vampires remind me that desire, mine in particular apparently, had a scent.

“No,” he said, “I can see it. Your whole body reacts to me. The way you look at me. It’s breath-stealing. Every time.” His voice was low, rough and full of need, mine, his, ours.

He didn’t tease me again. He simply took my nipple in his mouth and sucked hard. I almost screamed with sensation. My nipples were usually pretty sensitive but this felt like rectrect connection to my pleasure center. My neck snapped back and I reveled in the pleasure shooting between my legs. I was panting now, gripping the bedsheets as he moved to the other nipple and gave it the same treatment.

I wanted to turn the tables on him, to move down his body, but we had learned that the first time fed the ardeur. The second time, if we had the strength, fed us. I just held on for the ride. His hand had slipped between my legs, lightly brushing the curls there before delving into the slick folds.

“I love how wet you get for me,” Micah breathed. I felt myself flush. He kissed down my stomach, tickling my belly button. I giggled which ended on a moan. He moved between my legs and I tensed, waiting, needing his touch. He skipped the main event entirely and began massaging my calves. His strong, slow touch kneading out the tension. But I had tension in other places. I writhed on the bed, arching my hips, pleading wordlessly forisfaisfan. Hn. He chuckled. I couldn’t wait to get even with him.

“Is this what you want?” he asked before he parted the folds of my sex and licked, slow and sure. I did scream this time, the pleasure almost overwhelming, filling me to the brim but not yet to overflowing.

“Please, Micah,” I said, almost incoherent with lust. But I knew he wouldn’t give in that easy. I was right.

He shook his he“Tel“Tell me what you want, Anita. I need to hear the words.”

I panted and struggled to form a coherent sentence. “Please, I need you inside of me. Please, be inside me, please,” I begged. At this point, I would have groveled if it meant he would push me over the shining edge of orgasm.

He positioned himself against me and pushed, slowly, steadily, inexorably. My breath caught in my throat. “Faster,” I pleaded.

“Soon,” he said. Micah was always in control, even when I pushed him over the edge. He never moved quickly in the beginning, always wanting to make sure my body was truly prepared to receive his.

He filled me, thick and heavy. My legs opened wider to give him more room and he slid forward another inch. I gasped. I wanted all of him and I wanted him now. “Faster!”

“You are much too impatient,” he grinned at me. We had had this argument before. One of the benefits of his “alpha-ness” was his ability to retain control long after he had totally shredded mine. Admittedly, I had better control when the ardeur was not riding me. “Slow and steady gets the job done.” He thrust a little harder, a little deeper this time. I arched against him, meeting his thrust with one of my own, wanting, needing him deeper.

He pulled himself back so that only the tip of him remained inside. He met my eyes, smiled, and thrust hard, all the way in. He thrust his beast through me at the same time. I screamed as he propelled me over the edge. I lost consciousness for a few moments. I had been experiencing la petite morte, the French’s little death, more frequently lately. It disturbed me when I thought about it, something I tried desperately not to do. I mean, my lovers couldn’t possibly be getting better, could they?

I couldn’t have been out for more than a few seconds because Micah was still pounding into me. The pleasure built more quickly this time. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” I cried. He covered his mouth with mine, preventing any more discussion. His thrusts were less rhythmic, more forceful, nearing that edge of pain that always made it seem more exciting, more intense. He hit my cervix with every thrust, something he never did when we weren’t feeding the ardeur, and I knew I’d be bruised. But oh, it was worth it. He let out his own cry and I felt him flood me with scalding heat. The ardeur fed from Micah everywhere he touched me, his hands, his chest, his shaft still hard inside me. I couldn’t remember ever being this sated.

Micah collapsed on top of me for a moment before rolling to his side and taking me with him. We snuggled togetheryinrying to remember how to breathe. My body was numb with pleasure. He kissed the back of my neck. “Thank you,” he said.

I was barely conscious and my body still pulsed with aftershocks. “For what?” I whispered.

I never heard what he answered.
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Consequences