by Tracy Wolff
“What are you doing?” I demand when I can finally get the words out past the terrified lump in my throat. “How are we flying?”
“I think floating is a better description of what we’re doing,” Jaxon tells me with a grin.
“Flying, floating. Does it matter?” I clutch his hand with all my might. “Don’t drop me.”
He laughs. “I’m telekinetic, remember? You’re not going anywhere.”
“Oh, right.” The truth of that gets through to me, has me relaxing, just a tiny bit, the death grip I’ve got on him. And for the first time since we started floating, I really look at the sky around us.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. “This is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”
Jaxon just laughs and pulls me back in, this time with my back against his chest so I can see everything and feel him wrapped around me at the same time.
And then he spins us around and around and around through the lights.
It’s the ride of a lifetime, better than anything Disneyland or Six Flags could ever dream up. I laugh all the way through it, loving every second of it.
Loving the thrill of whirling across the sky with the lights.
Loving the feeling of dancing through the stars.
Loving even more that I get to do it all wrapped in Jaxon’s arms.
We stay up for hours, dancing and floating and spinning our way through the most spectacular light show on earth. On one level, I know I’m cold—even wrapped up in the jacket, with Jaxon curled around me and the aurora borealis spread out across the sky in front and behind me—but on all the important levels, I barely feel it. How can I when the joy of being here, in this moment, with Jaxon makes it impossible to focus on anything else?
Eventually, though, he brings us back down to the parapet. I want to argue, want to beg him to keep us up just a little bit longer. But I don’t know how his telekinesis works, don’t know how much energy and power it took for him to keep us up there as long as he did.
“And you thought vampires were only good for biting things,” he murmurs into my ear when we’re once again standing on solid ground.
“I never said that.” I turn in to him and press my mouth against his neck, loving the way his breath catches in his throat the moment I put my lips on him. “In fact, I think you’re good for a lot of things.”
“Do you now?” He pulls me closer, drops kisses on my eyes, my cheeks, my lips.
“I do.” I slide my hands into the back pockets of his jeans and revel in the way he shudders at my touch. “Though, not going to lie, the biting is pretty impressive too.”
I lift my mouth for another kiss, but he steps away before I can press my lips against his. I start to follow him, but he just smiles and rubs his thumb across my bottom lip. “If I start to kiss you now, I’m not going to want to stop.”
“I’m okay with that,” I answer as I try to plaster our bodies together.
“I know you are.” He grins. “But I have something I want to do first.”
“What could possibly be more interesting than kissing me?” I joke.
“Absolutely nothing.” He drops a quick kiss on my lips and then takes a big step back. “But I’m hoping this comes in a close second. Shut your eyes.”
“Why?”
He gives a heavy mock sigh. “Because I asked you to. Obviously.”
“Fine. But you better still be here when I open them up.”
“You’re in my room. Where else would I be?”
“I don’t know, but I’m not taking any chances.” I narrow my eyes at him. “You have a bad habit of disappearing whenever things get…interesting.”
He grins. “That’s because I’m usually afraid if I stay any longer, I’ll bite you. Now that I know you don’t mind, I won’t have to run quite so fast.”
“Or you could just not run at all.” I tilt my head to the side in an obvious invitation.
His eyes go from their normal darkness to the pure black of blown-out pupils, and I shiver in anticipation. At least until he says, “You’re not going to sidetrack me, Grace. So just do us both a favor and close your eyes.”
“Fine.” I pout a little, but I do as he says. After all, the sooner we get past this, the sooner I’ll be able to kiss him again. “Do your worst.”
His laugh is a warm breath of air against my ear. “Don’t you mean my best?”
“With you, I never know.” I wait impatiently for him to do whatever it is he’s going to do—at least until I feel his chest pressed around my back and his arms on either side of me. “What—?”
“You can open your eyes now,” he says.
I do and then nearly fall over in shock. “What…?”
“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice soft and uncertain in a way I’ve never heard from him before.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” I lift a trembling hand to the necklace he’s holding just a few inches in front of me, brush my finger across the huge rainbow-colored gemstone hanging in the center of the gold chain. “What is it?”
“It’s a mystic topaz. Some jewelers call it the aurora borealis stone because of the way the colors flow together.”
“I can see why.” The cut of the stone is incredible, each facet carved to highlight the blues and greens and purples within it so that they bleed into one another even as they stand out. “It’s gorgeous.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He lowers the necklace until the stone rests a little below my collarbone and fastens it around my neck. Then he steps back to check it out. “It looks good on you.”
“I can’t take this, Jaxon.” I force the words out even though everything inside me is screaming for me to hold tight to the necklace and never let it go. “It’s…” Huge. And I can only imagine how much it cost. More than everything I own put together, I’m pretty sure.
“Perfect for you,” he says, nuzzling the pendant aside and pressing a kiss to my skin underneath it.
“To be fair, I’m pretty sure it’s perfect for any woman.” Of its own volition, my hand creeps up to hold on to the stone. I don’t want to give it back. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Well then, you’re well-matched.”
“Oh my God.” I groan. “That was ridiculously sappy.”
“Yeah,” he agrees with a little you’ve-got-me shrug. “And you’re ridiculously beautiful.”
I laugh, but before I can say anything else, he’s kissing me, really kissing me, and anything I was going to say flies right out of my head.
I open to him, loving the way his lips move over mine. Loving even more the way his tongue brushes against the corners of my mouth before he gently scrapes a fang across my lower lip.
I shiver as he moves lower, brushing his lips across my jaw and down my neck. I’ve never felt anything like this before, never imagined that I could ever feel something like this. It’s so much, physically and emotionally, that it’s almost overwhelming—but in the best way possible.
“You’re cold,” he says, misinterpreting the shiver. “Let’s go inside.”
I don’t want to go inside, don’t want this magical, mystical night to end just yet. But as Jaxon pulls away, the cold catches up with me, and I shiver again. That’s all it takes to have him lifting me up and all but shoving me through the window.
He follows me in, then slams the window shut behind us. I reach for him, feeling a little bereft now that we’re back down here in the real world instead of dancing across the sky. But I’m finding that Jaxon on a mission is not to be deterred, especially when that mission involves something he considers important to my safety or comfort. So I wrap my fingers around the pendant I never want to take off and wait for him to do his thing.
Within minutes, he’s got a new blanket around me and a cup of tea in each of our hands. I take a sip to placate him, then take a
nother one because the tea is really, really good.
“What is this?” I ask, bringing the cup to my nose so I can sniff it a little. There’s orange in it, along with cinnamon and sage and a couple other scents I can’t quite identify.
“It’s my favorite blend of Lia’s. She brought it to me this afternoon, kind of a peace offering, if you will.”
“Lia?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice, considering the conversation she and I had this morning. I take another sip. It tastes different than the tea she made me last week, spicier, but very good.
“Yeah, believe me, I know. When I opened the door, she was the last person I ever thought I’d find on the other side of it.” He shrugs. “But she said you talked to her this morning and she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about me since. She didn’t stay long, just brought the tea and told me she was willing to try to get back to how things were if I was.”
“And are you?” I ask, joy a wild thing within me at the idea of Jaxon finding a little piece of what he lost.
“I want to try,” he tells me. “I don’t know what that looks like or what it means, but I’m going to give it a shot. Thanks to you.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I tell him. “It’s all you two.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I do. In fact—” I break off as he drains his tea and then sets the cup aside. His eyes are glowing in that way they do when he wants something, and my stomach does a slow roll at the realization that I’m what he wants.
I set my half-drunk tea aside and reach for Jaxon, everything in me straining to be close to everything in him.
He pulls me against him with a growl, burying his face in the curve between my neck and my shoulder and pressing long, slow, lingering kisses on the sensitive skin there. I shudder a little, press closer, loving the way his mouth skims over my shoulder and down my arm to the bend of my elbow. Loving just as much the way his hand slides up and down my back over the thin fabric of my dress.
Usually, when I’m with him, I’m covered in layers of clothing—sweaters, hoodies, thick fleece pants. But right now I can feel the warmth of his palm through the thin fabric of this dress. Can feel the softness of his skin as his fingertips skim over my shoulder blades.
He feels really, really good. So good, in fact, that I just lean into him and let him touch me wherever, and however, he wants.
I don’t know how long we stand like that, him touching and kissing and caressing me.
Long enough for my insides to turn to melted candle wax.
Long enough for every cell in my body to catch fire.
More than long enough for me to fall even harder for Jaxon Vega.
He smells so good, tastes so good, feels so good that all I can think about is him. All I can want is him.
And when he scrapes his fangs across the delicate skin of my throat, everything inside me stills in anticipation.
“Can I?” he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin.
“Please,” I answer, arching my neck to give him better access.
He draws a lazy circle right above my heart with his fangs. “You sure?” he asks again, and his reticence—his care—only makes me want him more.
Only makes me want this more.
“Yes,” I manage to gasp out, my hands sliding around his waist to hold him close. “Yes, yes, yes.”
It must be the reassurance he needs, because seconds later, he strikes, his fangs sinking deep inside me.
The same pleasure as earlier sweeps through me. Warm, slow, sweet. I give myself up to it, up to him, because I know that I can. Because I know that Jaxon will never take too much blood from me.
He’ll never do anything that might hurt me.
I slide my hands up his back to tangle in the cool silk of his hair even as I tilt my head all the way back to give him better access. He snarls a little at the invitation, but then I feel his fangs sinking deeper, feel the pressure of his sucking getting stronger, harder.
The longer he sucks, the deeper I fall into the pleasure, and the more I want to give him.
But slowly, the warmth I feel in his arms is replaced by a chill that comes from my bones and seems to swallow me whole. A creeping lethargy comes with it, making it hard for me to think and even harder for me to move, to breathe.
For a moment, just a moment, some modicum of self-preservation rears its head. Has me calling Jaxon’s name. Has me arching back and struggling weakly against his hold.
That’s when he snarls, his grip on me getting harder, tighter, as he pulls me more firmly against him. His fangs sink deeper and the moment of clarity fades as he begins to suck in earnest.
I lose all sense of time, all sense of self as I shudder and wrap myself around him. As I give myself up to Jaxon and whatever he wants from me.
55
No Use
Crying Over
Spilled Tea
Everything kind of fades after that, so that I have no idea how much time passes before Jaxon shoves me away from him. I hit the bed and tumble onto it, where I lay, dazed, for several seconds.
Until Jaxon snarls, “Get up, Grace. Get out now!”
There’s a wildness to his voice that cuts through the lethargy, at least a little. An urgency that has me opening my eyes and trying desperately to focus on him.
He’s towering above me now, fangs dripping blood and face contorted with rage. His hands are curled into fists and a deep, dark growl is coming from low in his throat.
This isn’t my Jaxon, the voice inside me all but screams. This caricature from every B vampire movie in existence isn’t the boy I love. He’s a monster, one teetering on the brink of losing all control.
“Get out,” he snarls at me again, his dark eyes finally finding mine. But they aren’t his eyes, not really, and I shrink back at the soulless, bottomless depths staring out at me even as the voice deep inside me echoes his words. Get out, get out, get out!
Something’s wrong with him—really wrong—and while there’s a part of me that’s terrified for him, right now there’s a much bigger part that’s terrified of him. And that part is definitely in control as I scramble off the bed, careful not to make any movements he can interpret as the least bit aggressive.
Jaxon tracks me with his eyes, and the snarling gets worse as I start inching toward the door. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t make any attempt to stop me—just watches me with narrowed eyes and gleaming fangs.
Run, run, run! The voice inside me is full-on screaming now, and I’m more than ready to listen to it.
Especially when Jaxon bites out, “Get. Out.”
The fear and urgency in his voice cuts right through me and has me running for the door, to hell with worrying if that will trigger the killer in him or not. He’s already triggered and if I don’t heed his warning, I’ll have no one to blame but myself. Especially when it’s obvious he’s doing everything in his power to give me the chance to escape.
With that in mind, I stumble to the door as fast as my shaky legs can carry me. It’s heavy, so I grab on with both hands and pull as hard as I can. But I’m weak from blood loss and it barely budges the first time. I can feel Jaxon getting closer, can feel him looming over me as I try desperately to find the strength to make the door move.
“Please,” I beg. “Please, please, please.” At this point I don’t know if I’m talking to Jaxon or the door.
He must not know, either, because suddenly his hand is there on the door handle, pulling it wide open. “Go,” he hisses out of the corner of his mouth.
I don’t have to be told twice. I scramble over the threshold and through the reading alcove, desperate to make it to the stairs…and as far from this evil incarnation of Jaxon as I can possibly get.
It’s a small alcove, only a matter of feet between me and freedom. But I’m so light-headed right now that
I can barely stand upright and I sway with every step I take.
Still, I’m determined to get to the stairs. Determined to save Jaxon the pain of having killed another person that he cares about. Whatever is happening right now isn’t his fault—even as messed up as I am at the moment, I can see that something is very, very wrong.
But there will be no convincing him of that if anything happens to me, no way of getting him to believe that this—whatever this is—isn’t completely his fault. And so I dig deep, push myself harder than I ever have before in an effort to save myself…and in turn, save Jaxon.
I use every ounce of energy I have to make it to the top of the stairs, but I do make it. Crawl down them if you have to, the voice inside me yells. Do whatever you need to do.
I grab on to the wall, push myself around the edge of the stairs, and prepare to take my first shaky step down. Except I slam right into Lia before I can ever take that step.
“Not feeling so good, Grace?” she asks, and there’s an edge to her voice that I’ve never heard before. “What’s the matter?”
“Lia, oh thank God! Help him, please. Something’s wrong with Jaxon. I don’t know what it is, but he’s losing control. He’s—”
She slaps me across the face so hard it knocks me into the nearest wall. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” she tells me. “Now sit down and shut up, or I’ll let Jaxon have you.”
I stare at her in shock, my sluggish brain having trouble assimilating this new turn of events. Only when Jaxon races, snarling, out of his room, does any sense of clarity kick in, brought on by the terror sweeping through me.
I’m pretty sure Lia’s no match for Jaxon on a normal day—no one is—but now that something’s wrong with him, I’m not so sure.
“Jaxon, stop!” I yell, but he’s too busy putting himself between me and Lia to listen.
“Get away from her!” he orders, as things start flying off the shelves all around us.