He had to stop, but he struggled to make himself.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He was on the verge of coming.
He was so fucking close––
You’re not coming, she sent, her thoughts still angry. You’re not coming this soon. Asshole. Fucking asshole.
“I’m an asshole now?” he managed. “Gaos. Wynter––”
He groaned when she pulled on him harder.
I can come again, he sent, coaxing, cajoling, his blood pulling on hers. I’m not human, Wynter. I’m not human… I can come again. We don’t have to wait––
Dream on, Nick, she sent, that pain in her still mixing with anger.
Her tongue and lips slowed, growing hypnotic.
He fell into it, once more tilting back his head.
He felt his control sliding.
He forced himself to unhook his fangs, to stop feeding on her… and so much of her presence washed over him, through him, sliding deeper into his veins, into his mind, he found his head rolling back for real, his eyes closing, even as he melted into the chair.
He had no idea how long that went on.
Like he seemed to do a lot with her… too much, some part of his mind murmured… his mind blanked out. He fell into an increasingly familiar, fucked-up, half-drunk state, where he could barely think, could barely track where he was.
He knew she could still hear him.
He knew his thoughts didn’t stop.
They grew somehow more abstract, even as her mind did the same, washing over him more with presence and pictures, pulling him deeper into her. Instead of satisfying that itch, it made it worse. He wanted to break her open more, slide further inside her, even as he felt her pulling on him, wanting the same––
“Fuck,” he groaned. “Fuck…”
He felt himself building.
It felt so good.
It felt so goddamned good.
It keened upwards, feeling better, hurting more, making him more desperate. He fell so deeply into that other space it felt like he was separating out from his body. His muscles turned liquid. The pain grew so bad he couldn’t move, couldn’t think past it. It was worse than it had been. It was worse than it had ever been…
God, what the fuck was going on?
It had never been like this.
Pale green eyes flashed behind his eyes.
They hung there, pale, new-leaf green, ringed with an even paler violet.
They shone with light, so much light.
They were so goddamned familiar.
That pain spiked, grew unbearable.
“Gaos.” He groaned the word. Nearly yelled it. “Jem… fuck… Jem…”
He felt it before she stopped.
He’d been totally out of his head, on the verge of coming, when something in her, something in the blood connection between them, shut down.
It shut the fuck down.
Where he’d been, lost in her blood, it felt like being punched in the face.
Maybe more accurately, it felt like being shoved out.
Out of her light, out of her blood.
He felt the shock there, the anger… no, the fury… a boiling rage, so intense, he felt it spiraling out of control…
Then she slammed some invisible door between them.
It shocked him to the point of paralysis. It was like going from a bath of luxuriously hot water to being shoved out the door, made to stand naked, alone… in the snow.
Definitely in a cold fucking wind.
He gasped, gripping her hair, gripping the arm of the chair where he still somehow sat, but she was hitting him, shoving off his hand, sliding out from under him, smacking his arm and chest as she jerked away.
She straightened and hit him in the chest, harder.
He didn’t try to protect himself. He couldn’t let go of the chair or even look up enough to meet her gaze.
Pain blinded him.
He gripped the chair, half hunched over, gasping even though he didn’t need air.
She hit him again, and again; he didn’t try to evade her hands.
“Asshole,” she said, her voice thick. “Fucking asshole…”
He fought to think.
He still could barely comprehend what he’d done, how bad it was.
But it was bad.
He could feel that much.
It was really fucking bad.
His mind slowly began to reel itself back, to come out of that fog of pain and want, that lost feeling of hovering at the edge for too long, verging on release for what felt like fucking forever, for hours at least. He replayed what happened in those minutes. He replayed all of it, every thought that went through his head, every image…
Fuck.
He heard every word he’d said.
He heard the name there, twice, and winced.
He winced even as Wynter hit him again.
“You’re a prick,” she said, her voice hard, even as he heard what underlay it. “You’re a goddamned lying, piece of shit prick…”
She started to walk away.
Only then did he reach out, grabbing hold of her wrist.
He brought her back to him without thought, without thinking about how stupid that was, how angry it would likely make her.
He yanked her into his lap, even as she hit out at him again.
He let her hit him, groaning softly.
When she hit him again, it turned into a growl.
His fingers slid into her hair, and that longing worsened, and whatever she thought, whatever he’d done, it was one hundred percent about her. It was so completely entwined in her, in that feeling of pain and confusion, of grief and loneliness and fucking loss, he found himself tilting his face up, pulling her mouth down to his.
He kissed her, nipping at her tongue and lips until she kissed him back, and then that wall finally fell…
He gasped.
Her pain slammed into him.
It stabbed into his chest, along with hurt, a pained, devastated hurt that closed his throat.
God… he’d really hurt her.
His chest contracted. Every part of him pulled her into him. His fingers clenched, his arms tightening, his body straining closer as he brought her flush against him, pressing as much of himself against her as he could.
They kissed.
They kissed until he was back there again, until his mind faded out.
He slowed her down.
He felt her pain worsen.
It felt bottomless.
It felt fucking bottomless, timeless, a pain unlike anything he’d ever felt before…
But it was familiar. It was so fucking familiar.
The longer he swam in it, in her, the more he felt his mind rebel, wanting nothing more than to merge with hers. He didn’t let himself think about the danger of that, or where it put him last time, what he’d done to her the last time he let himself lose control.
He wanted to show her everything.
Even things he shouldn’t ever show her.
Even things he shouldn’t ever show anyone. He knew it would only hurt her; it would never bring them any closer. That part of his mind… or blood… or “light”… or whatever the fuck it was… didn’t care. It didn’t care at all.
He was pushing up the dress then, that pain screaming at him, making his hands hurt, his fingers, turning his muscles rock hard, turning that heat in his chest into a raging flame, turning him aggressive.
God, turning him desperate.
Turning him fucking desperate.
Again, that part of him didn’t care. It didn’t want to discuss it. It was uninterested in anything approaching rational thought.
He stood before he’d made a conscious decision.
He picked her up.
…then he had her on the desk. He shoved aside the Tarot cards, a stack of papers, something that looked so archaic and old school to his vampire eyes, he could barely comprehend why she might be using actual paper for anything. He pushed back th
e knife on its stand, the bowl of stones and crystals. He had to stop himself from shoving it all off, even the fish tank, even the crystal on its wrought-iron stand.
He yanked and ripped her underwear off, not stopping to think about that, either.
He positioned himself, positioned his cock.
He slid into her to the hilt, and…
Gaos.
Fucking gaos…
Everything stopped.
He felt the hurt in her sharpen, grow worse, and that pain that wasn’t dissipating, wasn’t being helped at all, not by anything he was doing. He felt her anger, the part of her that didn’t want to feel it, that didn’t want anything to do with those softer emotions, didn’t want to be vulnerable to him at all.
Somehow it only touched him more, made his protectiveness worse.
He still couldn’t think clearly enough to realize the thing he wanted… no the thing he needed to protect her from… was himself.
She pulled on him, even in her fury.
She pulled on him with her light, with that damned seer’s light, with the connection between their blood…
When he could see again, he was fucking her, his weight and hands pinning her flat to the desk. He gripped her hair, fighting to control himself and driving into her, groaning at each stroke.
It hurt. Gaos, it fucking hurt.
I'thir li'dare––
She hit him again.
She hit him in the chest.
He felt her thinking, her pain worsen.
She hit him again, harder.
Stop saying that! Stop thinking in seer!
She threw it at him, her thoughts infused with fury.
Rage. Fucking rage, like she wanted to hit him again, keep hitting him, until she actually reached him, actually hurt him.
Bastard. Her eyes brightened, glaring up at him. Stop speaking Prexci. I know where it comes from. I know where those damned seer words come from, and it’s not Malek. It’s not Tai. It’s sure as fuck not me…
Her pain worsened, and Nick lost it, even as he slammed into her harder.
He came.
Emotion hit into him violently. He couldn’t hold it back.
He groaned, yanking the dress off her neck as he pressed his weight into her. He sank his fangs into her shoulder. He felt her breath hitch, the pain in her worsen as he began to drink, then she was coming, too, bucking up against him, her whole body breaking out in a sweat.
She yelled his name, and the pain in both of them worsened.
That other feeling in her worsened, growing almost desperate as she sank her nails into his back under his shirt.
I hate you, she thought at him, that grief sharpening. I hate you…
The words hurt him.
He was still coming, gripping her hips in his hands, but God, it hurt.
He knew it would hurt more, once he could think clearly again.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, even now, he knew this was only the very beginning of hurting for what he’d done.
“I love you,” he gasped, raising his head from her shoulder, pressing his face into hers. “God, Wynter. I love you. I love you so fucking much––”
“Liar,” she snapped. “Fucking liar.”
He didn’t try to argue.
He heard the thickness of her words.
Worse, he heard the tears there.
Pain rippled through him at the thought, seeming to crawl under his skin. For the first time, he could think clearly enough that it wasn’t the other kind of pain he felt. It wasn’t that seer-pain, the sex pain.
It was a much more human kind.
It was a kind that caught in his chest, making him feel like absolute shit.
It took him a second longer to give it a name.
It wasn’t guilt, although maybe it should have been.
It wasn’t even shame.
Grief.
It was grief.
God, it was like having his heart ripped out of his chest.
Unfortunately, that felt familiar too.
It felt way, way too fucking familiar.
Chapter 22
Really Mad
Nick got up to answer the door.
He didn’t think about how he looked, or even whether he was fully dressed.
Maybe it was just an excuse to move, to shift the scenery in some way, to break them out of this damned deadlock they were in, a deadlock that was increasingly hitting at his fear buttons, and making him want to run––at least until he could clear his head.
“No shit,” Wynter muttered from behind him.
Nick glanced at her, then hardened his jaw, walking the rest of the way to the door. He fumbled briefly with the lock, flinging it open once he got the damned thing unlatched.
At that point, he had no idea how long they’d been in there.
He had no idea what time it was.
Worse, it occurred to him the first time just how loud they’d been, and not only while they were fucking––and the fact that this was Wynter’s work, it was her place of employment, and it was a damned school, where students could presumably walk by.
Unfortunately, he was a second too late on that clothing thing.
He flung open the door, found himself looking at Malek and Tai…
…and only then thought to look down at himself.
He had his pants on, at least.
Even so, his shirt was open, hanging from his shoulders, and his belt and shoes were gone. He couldn’t even remember taking off the anti-grav boots that were more or less standard issue for cops, even Midnights, but he supposed they must be under Wynter’s desk somewhere.
All of that flickered through his mind in less than a human heart beat.
Then he slid backwards, moving vampire-like behind the door, wanting speed more than to reassure the seers by mirroring human-style movements.
Once he was fully out of the doorway and behind the large slab of wood, he glanced at Wynter, even as he began buttoning up his shirt.
He was relieved to see she was decent, more decent than him.
“Decent,” she muttered. “You really do sound a thousand years old sometimes.”
Nick felt his jaw harden, but he didn’t answer.
He could feel through the blood she’d jabbed at him more out of emotion than because she meant her words. She still wanted to fight with him. She wanted to yell at him until he said or did something to make her feel better.
Unfortunately, Nick was pretty much out of ideas on what that thing might be.
He’d done that thing you were never, ever supposed to do.
He’d never even done that as a human, much less as a vampire.
He’d called out an ex-lover’s name in the middle of sex.
Jesus.
What the fuck was wrong with him.
Wynter emitted another hard grunt, even as she rose to her feet, folding her arms over that dress that still made Nick want to fuck, training her eyes on Malek and Tai as they entered her office. Nick watched her struggle to clear her expression, to erase every hint of the past however-long of fucking and fighting that they’d just been alternating between.
Mostly, she failed at that.
Nick tucked in his shirt, closing the door behind the two seers as he came out from behind it. He locked it again, more in compulsion than for a specific reason.
Tai glanced at him when he did, frowning as she studied his face, then returned her gaze to Wynter. Wynter was smoothing her hair down now, trying to do it as inconspicuously as she could, but Nick could feel her embarrassment through the blood.
“You two are loud,” Tai said.
Her voice, paradoxically, sounded strangely loud in the round, high-ceilinged room.
Nick stiffened, feeling a kind of horror grip him, but Malek glanced at him, holding up a hand, as if to head off his words.
“We heard you arguing,” he explained. “I kept everyone away from here. No humans were on this floor.”
Nick felt the tens
ion leave his body in a kind of sick lurch.
“Thank you,” he said.
He met Malek’s gaze, making sure the seer knew he meant it.
“I owe you one,” he added, quieter.
Wynter gave him a hard look. “Appreciate the vote of confidence, Nick. You think I’m not capable of keeping people away myself?”
He flinched, but didn’t answer.
Again, he could feel her fury, her wanting to argue with him, to jab at him until he yelled back at her. In a twisted way, he wanted to accommodate her. He wanted to do whatever she asked right now, but with Tai here, and Malek––
The tall, black-haired seer with the mismatched eyes held up a hand.
“Apologies for the interruption,” he said politely. “I heard from Ms. St. Maarten. Lara. I thought perhaps you would want to know what she said.”
He glanced at Nick, blinking at him, then back at Wynter.
“…and it seemed perhaps the two of you could use a break.”
Wynter scowled at that, folding her arms tighter as she glared first at the male seer, then at Nick. Those stunning, blue-green eyes grew a lot harder when they met Nick’s.
He flinched; he couldn’t help it.
That only seemed to piss her off more, though.
“I also have a message,” Malek added apologetically. “One that couldn’t really wait. She would like us to come back to New York.”
Wynter’s expression turned deadly.
She opened her mouth, about to speak, but again, Malek held up a hand.
“…Not your husband,” Malek clarified, his voice reassuring. “In fact, she explicitly stated he was to stay here.” Malek blinked at Wynter, still holding up the same hand. “She would, however, like you to come, Ms. James. And myself.”
Malek gave Nick another furtive look, his eyes nervous.
“…and Tai.”
Now it was Nick’s turn to glare at the seer.
He didn’t bother to soften his words.
“That’s not happening,” he growled.
Wynter looked at him, letting out a disbelieving and rage-filled sound.
It came closest to, “HUH.”
Nick aimed his glare at her. “It’s not happening, Wynter.”
Fang & Metal: A Science Fiction Vampire Detective Novel (Vampire Detective Midnight Book 4) Page 20