She clutched her White Russian with nervous fingers and drew it closer, leaving a wet trail across the table from the sweating glass. She sipped it and wrinkled her nose.
"You don't like it?" He asked. He was sitting beside her in their private booth. It was curved and surrounded by heavy velvet curtains except a small gap at the front of the table where the servers came and went. His arm was draped casually around her waist and his thigh was a comforting warmth against her own.
This was the first time they had been alone away from the compound without an entourage dogging their every movement. She should have felt relieved. Instead she felt more on edge.
"Too strong," she replied.
He took a sip from her glass. "Mm, yes, they were a little heavy handed with that one. Do you want to order another?"
"No, I'll live," she replied, then a smile crept over her lips. She met his eyes and held up the glass. She looked back at the glass and said, "This White Russian has the perfect amount of vodka for me."
The ice cubes in the glass shifted with a clink but that was all that appeared to happen. She raised her eyebrows at it, glanced at him, he was staring with interest, and took another sip.
"That's better," she said with a satisfied smack of her lips.
He took her glass and sampled it himself. "Hmmm," he looked at her with a mischievous glint in his eye, "so you don't like vodka much then?" she flattened her lips and playfully elbowed him in the ribs, which only made him chuckle. She reclaimed her glass from him.
He leaned in and planted a gentle lingering kiss on her temple and despite her pique she melted into him feeling a little more at ease.
"You should be more careful," he said quietly. "You could have changed how you taste things rather than the amount of liquor in your drink."
She scrunched her eyebrows together in a frown and turned annoyed eyes on him.
"It is as much intention as it is my words but I think I know the risks of my own powers a little more than you." She pointed at herself and finished, "I put myself in a coma once, remember?"
"All too well," he responded softly and leaned in to kiss her. His tongue dipped into her mouth and she spread her lips open wider for him. He tasted her and she tasted him back. She could taste the vodka from her drink on him.
His lips moved to the corner of her mouth and continued downward until she felt the feather light scrape of his teeth on her throat followed by a tiny prick as he gently cut her skin with just tips of his now extended fangs. He lapped the spot where her blood welled and then covered it with his hot mouth. Suckling. Her hand cupped the back of his head almost of its own accord in an instinctive manner to hold him against her. She was breathing more deeply now, she took in the sharp scent of his shampoo in his short salt and pepper hair and the soft scent of soap on his skin with the undertones of musk that was his own scent. His fingers dug into her hips as he sipped droplets of blood from her, pinning her in place against the padded seat.
"You're going to spoil your dinner if you keep that up," she gasped even though she didn't really want him to stop. He licked and sucked on the two tiny scratches until they were finally healed by the speed of her own supernatural healing.
He lifted his face, lips hovering above hers and whispered, "Nothing tastes as sweet as you."
Then his mouth was on hers again. She clung to him as he devoured her. She felt his hand move to her bare knee below the hem of her dress. His fingers were hot on her skin. They moved slowly up her inner thigh, beneath the hem, onward. She gasped and quickly grabbed his wrist, her heart thumped in panic as she remembered where they were.
"What if someone sees," she said.
He looked around at the small gap in the black curtains, down at the round table covered in a full length crimson tablecloth that sat between them and the gap. "No one is in view," he turned back around, "and even if anyone happens to pass by and glance in all they will see is a couple making out." She relaxed her grip on his wrist and he resumed sliding his hand up her thigh. "As long as you keep quiet," his fingers brushed against her panties, "no one will know."
His lips claimed her and a tremor went down her back as he slipped aside her panties and dipped two fingers inside her. He drew them out and circled her clit, spreading her own slick around and over it. Then he curled his fingers back inside and placed his thumb over her swollen pearl.
He rocked his hand, working his thumb forward and back over her clit and his two fingers moved inside her. She gasped against his lips.
Footsteps. He jerked upright beside her taking his hand with him. He met her eyes and brought his hand to his mouth. He lapped her juices from his fingers one by one as the steps drew nearer. The curtains parted and three servers entered. Two held a plate each, the other stood at the head of the table and addressed them.
"I apologize for the wait," she said as the other servers approached the table, they removed the previous plates that they had served a tasty blood infused foam on earlier and placed the new plates down in front of each of them. "We seem to have a full house in the VIP section tonight and it has caused a short delay." She continued as the other two servers left. "I would like to present your next course for the evening. Lambs Wool. This is a delectable mousse infused with lambs blood and mint served over a ribbon of rare spiced roast beef with a savory lambs blood and berry mint sauce."
