Dreadful Ashes

by Annathesa Nikola Darksbane

  “Well, I didn’t do it alone. I had help from a friend.” As we made it into the hallway, I tapped the heavy object leaning by my doorway curtain. “I like to call her Rusty.”

  o o o

  I’d been wanting a hot shower, and I finally got one.

  Tamara pushed me through the steamy spray before it could do more than send a pulse of errant static through my body and came in after me. Pressed against the wall, I watched the hot water slick her fading, silver-black ombre to her head and shoulders, plastering the hair to the curves of her bare skin as she shed the skimpy clothes and tossed them aside.

  “Tam,” I breathed the one word before her lips met mine, stealing anything else I might have said from my mind, and devouring any breath I might have used to voice it.

  The Moroi’s passion drew at me, fanning the flames of my own, and I grasped her hips as gently as I could manage, pulling her against me. I caressed her perfect face, then ran my hands more firmly along her tender throat, and gripped her shoulder and ribs firmer still. My hand strayed through the spray of the simple showerhead and started tingling; Tamara grasped my wrist firmly in response and pinned it to the wall, pushing one bare leg between mine as she pressed hungrily against me.

  It felt like minutes until she came up for air, the electric trails of errant water across my skin almost forgotten, washed away by the stronger torrent of Tamara’s hungry urgency—as well as my own.

  “Hold on,” she protested as I hooked a hand behind her neck and tried to haul her back in for another round, heedless of the running water. “Before…” she took a deep breath, seeming to reel herself in. “Before we go further, I want to make sure you want this.”

  Oh, I was pretty damn certain. “Uh…Yes?” I raised an eyebrow in confusion, blinking reflexively as a splatter of water came too close. “Please?”

  She laughed, deep and throaty and sultry, and I had to restrain myself from grabbing those hips again. “I’m serious, Ashes. I want to make sure I’m not…” she frowned, “you know, making you. Because we Moroi can do that. And not even realize it.” I tried to interrupt her, and she covered my mouth with her free hand. “And, I’m just not used to getting mixed signals. So I want to make sure that—”

  I bit her hand. Gently.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, her voice soft, vulnerable. “I never want to hurt someone I love, ever again. I’m dangerous.”

  “And I’m durable,” I replied, dead serious. “You couldn’t drain me before. Neither could Lan. Fright couldn’t touch me; neither could Meladoquiel. I will be fine.” I refused for it to be any other way.

  Slowly, hesitantly, she nodded, want and need mixing with my reassurance, overwhelming the worry in her beautiful eyes. “I just—”

  I prodded her in the ribs, shushing her again.

  “Will you just kiss me again already?” I rasped. “Neither of us are getting any younger.” Or older, for that matter.

  Her lips met mine once more and drove conscious thought from my mind for a long, wonderful while.

  I came to my senses again as her lips finally left mine, moving along my torn jawline and down my throat, to be replaced by a probing tongue and teasing teeth. I nudged her head aside with my own and bared her neck, so easy with my superior strength, drawing a gasp from Tamara as I returned the favor, grazing her soft, warm skin with the tips of my fangs, and following it with my tongue. She ran her hands through my wet hair as we embraced, then pushed me a little further into the corner, her adept hands exploring every inch of my exposed skin, every curve of my frame, every cut and gash with delicate, earnest affection.

  I finally figured it out.

  “You’re bathing me!” I exclaimed in surprise.

  She thumped her head against my unyielding chest; I tried not to wince at the splatter of water.

  “For someone so awesome, you can be so dense,” she sighed. “Why did you think I wanted to risk doing this in a shower?”

  I gave her the biggest, goofiest grin I could manage, and she laughed again.

  It echoed in the tiny stone room, clear and happy, more than enough reward for everything I’d been through.

  Tamara pressed against me again; I grabbed her thigh and held it tight, dragging her up against me, lifting her onto her toes as we kissed. Slowly, her hand traced the curve of my breast where it was half-trapped under hers, then part of the long, diagonal cut, then along my stomach and the line of my hips, then, even more slowly, between my legs.

  I gasped at the almost electric shock of her touch and got a mouthful of shower water.

  I coughed reflexively as Tamara twisted the steel shower head away from me with an apologetic, if amused, smile.

  “Take it downstairs?” she asked.

  “I can’t feel my feet,” I agreed.

  She had to help me towel off and exit the bathroom, but once I got started, there was no stopping me. I pushed the stone chunk aside with one arm, barely pausing to push it mostly back into place before scooping her off her feet and carrying her, laughing, back to her room in both arms like the treasure she was.

  I tossed her onto the bed and dove playfully on top of her—

  —my eyes going wide as one of the legs broke off the crappy twin bed frame with a snap, spilling us both into the floor.

  Still laughing, she rolled us over, leaning on my chest.

  “Sorry about your bed—” I began.

  “Worth it.” She shushed me with a series of kisses, a warm-up for what was to come.

  We made love right there on the rug, and the bed wasn’t the last thing we damaged as our intensity spiked, subsided, and rose again, a tide that wouldn’t stop turning.

  Neither of us talked for a long time; instead, we spoke with our touch, with our kisses and caresses. I stared into Tamara’s hungry, molten eyes—and she into mine—as I brought her to climax, and she brought me in return.

  Then we traded again, and again, touching and tasting and finally, after so long wanting, exploring each other, trying, almost in vain, to satisfy our desire for one another.

  We never completely did.

  “I never thought…” Tamara laid on my chest, her breathing slow, deep, and heavy, and I pulled part of the plush black rug across us to keep the chill from her still-mortal flesh. “That anyone would, or could, run me out of stamina.”

  “Well, that’s one thing I’m good for,” I quipped. “Quantity, if not quality.”

  She looked like she wanted to bite me but didn’t have the energy.

  The Moroi dozed off, head between my breasts, fingernails digging at my iron-hard flesh like she didn’t want to let go.

  I let her sleep, content to feel her warmth, her breath, the life and rhythm of her heart for as long as the world would let me.

  Her phone buzzed; I ignored it until it vibrated its way off the table. I saved it from the stone floor, but Tamara stirred, the illusion of peace shattered.

  “What is it?” She smiled up at me, happy, her sleepiness quickly fading.

  I returned the smile, noting just a bit of the color had returned to her eyes, and handed her the phone.

  She glanced at the message and handed it to me instead. “It’s…for you.” She blushed a little.

  Ashley. Garibaldi’s message brought me back to the real world like a shock of ice water. Answer your phone, please.

  Tamara found it before I did since she’d been the one to remove my clothes in the first place.

  I’ll see you at his place in an hour. We’ll play it like last time, minus you getting kidnapped, it read simply.

  “Got it,” I mumbled quietly. As much as I hated being interrupted, it was for one of the best reasons I could imagine.

  The attempt on Jason and the death of his parents was bad enough. But sending his lackeys against Tamara?

  Juris Blagojevic was a dead man.

  My phone buzzed again. And leave Tamara out of it.

  I texted him an agreement; not that I imagined he was wait
ing on one. I figured he wanted Tamara out of it to keep complications low…or maybe to keep her safe, which was an idea I could get behind.

  Some things were too precious to risk.

  “Gotta go?” Tamara asked. She frowned as the liquid in her eyes shuddered, shifting sluggishly.

  “Yeah. Need to meet Garibaldi in an hour.” I didn’t say where or why; she frowned more heavily but didn’t ask. She probably could tell I didn’t want to say. “I don’t need an hour to get there, though.” I tried to make sultry, suggestive eyes at her and probably failed. “You know, just in case you’re—”

  The naked Moroi sat up abruptly, still perched on my chest—then her eyes went wide in alarm, churning and darkening ominously.

  A hand pressed to her stomach and chest, she bolted for the stairs without a word.

  o o o

  Even from the door, I could hear the pained sound of Tamara retching.

  “Wow, was I that bad?” I gave her a worried look as she twisted, hugging the toilet, and glared at me. “I mean, I’m no gold medalist, but I thought—”

  Tamara hung her head over the bowl and heaved again, and I realized it wasn’t just Tamara vomit floating on the water.

  It was flecked with Moroi blood.

  “Tam…” I was at her side immediately, petting her bare back comfortingly. She shuddered. I pulled the silver and black strands of her hair away from her face and ran my fingers soothingly over her scalp and back until she calmed a moment later. “What’s wrong, Tam?”

  “Nauseated,” she replied.

  I thought about it. I thought about the last few times we’d gotten close. I frowned.

  “I’m…not good for you, am I?” I asked finally. She looked away. “Not like you need, I mean. Moroi-food.”

  “No,” she breathed deeply, probably to settle her stomach as much as anything. She smiled a sad smile, reaching out to caress my cheek. “It’s in the old legends, you know.” She blushed a little. “The tragic romances between our kinds. We fit so well together in so many ways, but…” I nudged her, prompting her gently to continue, to say what I knew was coming. “But we can’t subsist off of you.”

  “Like with the dead, distant emotions you mentioned earlier.” I nodded. “There’s just something missing that you need.”

  “I was really hoping it was just fantasy,” the Moroi replied sadly. “And I did get something out of it…at first. But now I feel worse off than I did before, energy-wise. And it obviously makes me a little sick.”

  “I’ve been fed on before, you know,” I countered. “By Davora, for instance.”

  “And you said she got sick, too, at the end.”

  Reluctantly I nodded, remembering.

  “I think…” Tamara considered me, softly, her feelings luminous in her eyes. “Your emotions just don’t contain the vitality that mortal ones do. That, or you keep it somewhere out of my reach. I think all your vitality is concentrated in that one little spark,” she tapped my bare chest. “Keeping you…alive.”

  I supplied the air quotes and mouthed the word alongside her.

  “Which might be for the best, in the end.” She smiled faintly. Sorrowfully. “Whatever feeds us, whatever we can consume…we can kill.” Her eyes flickered, a muted shade of hunger, as she stared at me, into me. “And you’re neither. Pros and cons, I guess.”

  “This…this is part of why you were upset.” I stared into her eyes. “You’re worried that it won’t work, because you can’t be with only me. Because part of us…is incompatible. That even if we’re together, you’ll still have to…feed elsewhere. Somehow.”

  She nodded, a little miserably.

  I mulled it over. And shrugged.

  “It’s all right,” I smiled, a hopeful, encouraging smile. “We’ll work that out, too.”

  Tamara was on me in an instant, arms wrapped around me in a tight embrace.

  Nothing truly worth doing, I thought with an honest smile, is easy.

  I squeezed Tamara’s firm, perky butt, making her squawk with surprise.

  Which includes her. I grinned at my private joke while she stared at me suspiciously.

  “Quick question or two.” I checked the time on my phone. “I don’t want to ruin the mood, but I feel like I need to know.”

  She nodded and sat back, still naked and perfect except for the lost luster in her eyes.

  “How do your people take care of this on their own? There’s got to be more than just the angle you worked at the Abyss.”

  “The Abyss…all that emotion that I can siphon from without hurting anyone…it’s my preferred way,” she began, shifting in place a little. “A tiny bit from everyone, skimming right off the top.” Was she worried about how I was going to react to Moroi secrets? I tried to give her a more reassuring smile.

  It couldn’t be that bad.

  Well, it could be, but even if it was, she was still my Tamara.

  “But at home, or without those resources, some of us eat people,” she continued. “Like the Sanguinarians do. Like—”

  “Like I do,” I commented.

  “And…like I did at the Adventure,” she closed her eyes for a moment. “Otherwise, especially when we’re younger…we feed off of each other.”

  “Moroi sexy time?” I made a thoughtful face. “Doesn't sound so bad.”

  Tamara snorted. Then sighed. “Sometimes yes. Sometimes not so much. Because sometimes, we use it to influence each other. Or rarely, force it. It’s frowned upon, but it happens.”

  I didn’t realize I was growling until she thumped me on the forehead.

  “Quit that. It doesn't help.” She continued with barely a hitch. “Every group has its bad apples. Especially any group with real power.” She shook her head. “Anyway, we also interact with our servants, and feed off of them. Typically it’s pretty positive, but there are exceptions…as well as accidents. And remember, we don’t just feed off of lust and stuff,” she reminded me with a rather saucy wink. “Any emotion will do, though it depends on the bloodline and individual how much they get out of each type of emotion. We’ve just found, over time, that lust is more…pleasant for everyone involved, especially in the long run.”

  “Because who wants to end up like Davora,” I replied.

  “I know, right?” She grinned.

  “Tam?”

  “Yeah?” She caught the warning signs in my tone, and her eyes grew serious again.

  “Who was Raedra?”

  She blinked and hesitated, caught off guard. Whatever she’d been expecting me to say, it hadn’t been that.

  “You mentioned her after the first encounter with Fright,” I explained. “And…I just wanted to know.”

  Tamara’s expression grew bittersweet, and she nodded. “I should tell you, anyway. It’s not something I want to hide, and…honestly, she should be remembered. I’d like that.”

  I gave the Moroi a moment and shifted around until I could drape my arm over her shoulders and pull her close.

  It seemed to help. She settled in against me as she continued. “Did you know my Moroi powers awakened really early? Did I ever tell you that?”

  I shook my head.

  “Earliest in three generations. Three Moroi generations, at that.” She didn't sound proud in the least. “I didn't know what was going on. I just had these emotions, this growing drive, and a hunger I didn't understand. My caretakers just assumed it was puberty since it was so early.”

  “I don't understand.” Though I worried I had an idea and hoped I was wrong.

  “I had a half-blood girlfriend when I was young. Really liked her. My first big crush, you know?” Tamara’s eyes were far away, staring at the past with a melancholy smile. “Kiara.”

  It wasn’t the name I expected. I squeezed Tamara’s shoulders for support and remained quiet anyway.

  “I killed her.” The Moroi’s eyes glistened with years-old tears. “Drained her dry of life the first time we got intimate.”

  “Oh, Tam…”

&
nbsp; “Rae was the one who picked me up and made it better.” Tamara smiled, but it was still as bittersweet as ever. “My big sister, my savior. At the time, no one else seemed to care that I'd killed someone. Someone I cared about. ‘Just a half-blood,’ they said. ‘Tamara shows so much promise,’ they said. But Rae understood. She helped me cope, showed me that it wasn't my fault.” She finally looked my way again and smirked. “I think young me had a crush on her too, looking back.”

  “But what—”

  “Sanguinarians killed her quite a few years ago.” Tamara didn’t bother waiting for the question. “Well…they drove her to it, anyway.” She shuddered; I held her tight. “It was one of their hit squads, like the one that came after me that one night years ago, when you’d just turned. Rae protected me. Fought them off. Until one of them bit her.” Tears streamed down her face, a sudden, sapphire flood. “She explained what it meant, how there was no going back. Then she had me turn around,” Tamara swallowed hard, “and she killed herself before the addiction could take hold.”

  Speechless, all I could do was give her another supportive squeeze.

  “Ironically, it was Liandra that scooped me up and rescued me from the last couple of Sang assassins,” Tamara finished, drying her eyes. “And as a reward, they gave me to her to watch out for.” She snorted. “In retrospect, not Mother’s best idea. Because I think we ended up hating each other.”

  The alarm I’d set on my phone buzzed. I looked at Tamara and bit my lip.

  “Not where you wanted to leave me, huh?” She guessed.

  “Not after the night we’ve had,” I replied. “And not with you feeling like this.”

  The Moroi stood, shrugged, and smiled, holding out a hand and helping me to my feet.

  “I’m durable, too,” she replied. “It didn’t break me then, and I’ve had a lot of years to cry it out. Don’t worry about me.” She slapped me on the ass, hard enough for me to feel it, and I jerked, startled.

  Tamara grinned.

  “Trust me, it’s not going to ruin my memories of tonight,” she said, holding my gaze with hers. It was so easy to fall into it. We kissed again, quickly, but just as passionately as before. I ran my hands over her body again.