This Time Tomorrow

by Tessa Bailey

  Why would they acknowledge their attraction when nothing could ever be done about it? This was a man who’d not only been a party to the slaughter of her friends, but he’d rendered her helpless during the ordeal. She’d beat that door in the chapel so hard, she’d broken bones in her hand. For years she’d watched her mother slay vampires. If she’d just gotten out of that office, maybe with her retained knowledge she could have saved one of them.

  But Elias hadn’t given her that chance.

  It was galling to possess such devastating need for this man.

  And it would continue to burn unquenched. Touching him, being touched by him, would be a betrayal of those who’d been slain—and she would not dishonor their memories. Not when she’d already made them a target that night for those vampires.

  “See?” Elias drawled, sitting back in his chair, something in his eyes going dark. “I can tell if you were healthy right now, you’d be trying to stake me. No poker face.”

  It was unacceptable, how much she wished she’d pursued his gruff statement—you know I’m aware—instead of falling down the rabbit hole of hate. Like mother, like daughter. “I will work on this poker face and have it mastered by tomorrow evening. Just watch me.”

  He picked up the shuffled deck again and dealt them each two cards. “Who are you playing against?”

  “I’ll find out when I get there. It will be a fun surprise.”

  His upper lip curled, obviously displeased with her answer. “How are you going to explain the fact that you’re bruised and hobbling?”

  “I don’t know. But I was thinking of renting one of those motorized carts and really leaning into it.” She checked her cards—a nine and ten of hearts. Keeping her features schooled, she laid down her cards carefully, making a note to do it the same way every single time, and tossed a few pennies into the pot. “Raise.”

  No physical reaction. “Call.”

  He took three cards off the top of the deck, spreading them on the surface of the box. Two of them were hearts, giving her a flush draw. Every card in the flop was a low number, so unless he had a high pair in his hand, she might be on track to the best hand.

  She got a fifth heart on the turn, felt his gaze hit her hard, but stayed perfectly still.

  “Anyway,” she said conversationally, checking her turn. “I think I will be back in fighting shape by tomorrow night. Look how much progress I’ve made already. Walking and breathing and sitting up like a big girl.”

  “It’s a shame my heart isn’t beating,” he muttered, examining his cards one more time. “A drop of my blood might heal you completely.”

  “What?” Her spine straightened. “I thought that was only a myth.”

  “Might, I said.” He checked his turn, then laid down the river card. An ace. “I’m not sure if it would work with a full human, but Jonas’s blood saved Ginny’s life when she was being Silenced. I watched it happen. She would have died without it.”

  A dagger stuck in her throat. “I didn’t know,” she breathed, wishing for a phone so she could text her friend, even just one of their GIF battles. “Like you said, your heart isn’t beating, so there’s not much point in speculating.”

  “Right.” He leveled her with a long look, transferring it back down to the card game. “Only my mate will make it beat. Until then…”

  Jealousy went off inside her like a hydrogen bomb and she barely resisted kicking the table again, this time hard enough to send it across the room. Vampires and their mates. The holy grail that could jumpstart a dead heart. Wow. What a cool party trick. So what?

  Her stupid fingers were shaking and she couldn’t stop grinding her back teeth.

  Only when a vampire drank from another could he determine if they were mated. Because they couldn’t very well go around sampling every vampire they came into contact with—and it was against the rules to drink from a human—it often took decades or even centuries to find their mates. Which tended to leave a lot of the male vamps grumpy-sauce since they couldn’t have a full sexual release until they were inside their one and only.

  This information hadn’t been passed on during her training.

  Oh no. She’d heard it from Tucker, though in much saltier terms.

  And it was as hard to acknowledge now as it was then.

  What if he ended up with a human mate, like Jonas? Would he Silence her? Take her blood in exchange for the venom he stored in his fangs, so they could be together eternally like a bunch of stupid jerks?

  “Remember your poker face, Roks,” Elias said quietly.

  Garnering every ounce of her self-possession, she studied the five cards on the board, eschewing the vision of another woman approaching Elias and being found so irresistible, so essential to him, she made his heart start pumping again. Hot moisture crowded behind her eyes, but she blinked it away. Focus. You have to get good at this.

  And she couldn’t have Elias anyway.

  Didn’t want him.

  Concentrate.

  He’d stayed in on the flop, but checked the turn. Chasing something. Maybe that ace that showed up on the river. Whatever he had, it couldn’t beat her flush. But she’d checked the turn, when she’d gotten that fifth heart, so he might not suspect she had one.

  Meaning he would call her bet.

  Roksana cleared her throat, but still sounded like a rusted boat rudder when she spoke. “I’m all in.”

  Elias reared back a little and surveyed the board. “Really.” She said nothing, keeping her eyes downcast, even though her skin prickled when he started to study her. “Call.”

  She turned over her flush.

  A crack of laughter left him. “Nicely done, Roks,” he said, turning over his ace-king. “You threw me off the scent of that flush.”

  “I think I’m getting the hang of this game!” She hopped to her feet and threw up her hands in victory. Her muscles all screamed at once. “And thank God, too,” she gasped. “With one weakness conquered, I can allow myself to accept the painkillers.”

  Elias caught her before she hit the ground.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Roksana bolted upright in bed and searched in the darkness for Elias.

  “Hello?” she called, rubbing her eyes. No answer. “He must have gone out for supplies.”

  How much time had passed since she’d been asleep?

  She took stock of her body and found it didn’t ache nearly as bad as before. Her muscles were still sore, but the sharpest of pains had abated. Thank God. Wishing desperately for her cell phone or a clock, she climbed out of bed and went to use the bathroom. Elias had left a travel-size tube of toothpaste on the rim of the sink, along with a purple toothbrush. She picked them up and examined them, trying to picture Elias, thundercloud in the flesh, trying to pick out the right brush, and when she glanced up in the mirror, she found a dreamy smile on her face.

  Grimacing, she hastily brushed her teeth and started a bath, hoping the hot water would give her the final boost she needed to appear normal at the poker game tomorrow night.

  At least, she thought the poker game was happening tomorrow night? As rested as she felt, her nap might have lasted a month. Although deep down, she knew with an ironclad certainty that Elias wouldn’t let her sleep through something so important.

  Winning the game would be her first step toward redeeming herself and she needed to be laser focused on making that happen. Not mooning over toothbrushes, for godsakes. Her mother had once again been merciful in giving her a second chance, and the possibility of approval from Inessa was the dangling carrot she could never seem to grasp.

  This time. This time I’ll do it.

  A few minutes later, Roksana took off the T-shirt and loose pants she’d slept in, leaving them in a pile on the floor, and carefully stepped into the hot bath, lowering herself down.

  “Oh lord lord lord,” she breathed, muscles rejoicing by turning to jelly, tingles running along her scalp. “If only I had some—”

  Soap.

  A
simple white bar caught her eye from its perch on the edge of the tub.

  Roksana reached for it, grumbling about confusing vampires under her breath. Moving gingerly, she lathered the fragrant soap in her hair and cleaned herself beneath the surface, the sound of stirring water eerie and beautiful all at once in the black bathroom. She finished and replaced the soap, leaning back in the tub, plugging her big toe in and out of the faucet lazily, the sound of dripping water unearthing a memory.

  “We should be studying,” Olga fretted, flopping down on the wooden sauna bench, the heat causing her eyelids to droop. She collapsed sideways, the knot of her white towel coming loose. “Oh never mind. Fuck it. This is way more important.”

  Roksana traded an amused look with Kira and followed suit, sprawling themselves out in the giant sauna. She’d encouraged her friends to ditch their Wednesday afternoon classes for some girl time, too excited about the upcoming trip to Vegas to focus on inconsequential things such as calculus. One boisterous ride on the metro later, they were enjoying the two-hundred-year-old facilities at the Sanduny bath house. And since it was the middle of the day, they had it all to themselves.

  After a few minutes of silence, Olga raised an eyebrow, sweat already beginning to dot her forehead. “How much did you say the day pass cost?”

  Roksana waved a hand. “Not so much. I know a guy.”

  “You know a guy,” Kira echoed, letting Roksana see her skepticism.

  “Da.” Roksana rolled over to face the wall, mooning them in the process. “I told him we were coming, so he left the back entrance open for us.”

  Actually, she’d come this morning and picked the lock in advance.

  Not that she could tell them that.

  Seeming reassured, Olga and Kira started talking about logistics of packing her wedding dress. They were still bickering about the merits of vacuum packing when the sauna door burst open to reveal a scowling woman in a white uniform. “Out!” She made a shooing motion at them, her sneakers squeaking on the sauna floor. “Paying customers only. The police have already been called!”

  “Roksana,” Olga groaned, rolling off the bench and securing her towel, all while cowering in the face of the woman’s anger.

  Kira was splitting her sides laughing. “You are insane.”

  “Run!”

  And that was how they ended up half dressed and barefoot in the freezing cold streets of Moscow, stumbling into a coffee shop bathroom, laughing while onlookers shook their heads.

  It was a great day.

  The apartment door opened and closed, widening Roksana’s gritty eyes.

  She waited for footsteps, but there was only silence. Tension.

  “Roksana,” Elias called sharply.

  The worry in his voice made her frown. “I’m in here.”

  She crossed her arms over her breasts just in time for him to zip into the doorway…and right away, she noticed differences in him. Eyes clear, skin glowing with health. He looked as well rested as she did, but unless he’d taken a snooze standing up, there was no way he’d slept.

  Discomfort oozed into her middle. “Did you go out to…feed?”

  He glanced away, throat working. “Yes.”

  His answer deflated her lungs, oxygen leaving her in a rush. “Oh.”

  It took her several recovery breaths to realize her fingernails were digging into her palms. Did he feed on a human? A woman? She’d already been aware of the fact that Elias needed to feed. She’d been aware for a long time. But his eating habits were an abstract thing. They happened sometime, but what time? Who knew? Who cared?

  Obviously she did. Like a typical shit for brains.

  Even steeped in neck-deep water, she was frozen. Yet her throat burned.

  “Can I have some privacy, please?” she managed haltingly.

  “Christ, Roksana,” Elias growled, digging harassed fingers into his hair. “I don’t like it any more than you do. Would you rather I withered and died?”

  She smacked the water, sending droplets in every direction. “Yes!”

  His laughter sounded thoughtful. “You’re acting like a jealous wife.”

  “You are delusional, vampire,” she scoffed, shifting sharply in the bathtub. “I don’t care who you drink from.”

  “Who I drink from?” Jaw flexing, he dug in his back pocket and tossed two empty blood storage bags onto the floor, complete with puncture holes from his fangs. “There’s a blood bank half a mile from here.”

  Roksana took a deep breath and sank down into the water until it covered her head.

  Maybe when she surfaced, he would be gone.

  She peeked up at him from behind a wet hank of blonde hair.

  Still there, only now he was leaning back against the wall, visibly enjoying himself.

  “I think it’s time for me to go,” she whispered, and his face fell. Her stomach dropped in response to his disappointment—and that was even more reason to go. Being in close quarters with Elias was no longer wise. The more time she spent with him, the more thoughtful gestures he inflicted on her, the easier it was becoming to lose sight of her goals.

  Avenge her friends.

  Be the slayer her mother wanted her to be.

  “What time is it? What…day?”

  He stared at her hard. “Nine thirty on Wednesday.”

  Panic shot down to Roksana’s toes, her sudden scramble sending a wave of water cresting over the edge of the tub. “I slept through an entire day?”

  “The game isn’t until midnight,” he said calmly. “There’s plenty of time to get there. You needed every minute until then to rest.”

  Roksana shot to her feet in the tub, only then remembering her naked state.

  Time stopped, the sound of dripping water and her own breaths amplified in her head.

  Elias came off the wall slowly, watching the water stream down her body, his face contorting with pain. He approached her as if in a trance, that whiskey gaze raking her in a long, hungry sweep, his long fingers curling into fists. “Your body ruins me,” he rasped, almost to himself, as if she wasn’t even there. “I can’t stand this. I thought if I fed, the worst of my cravings for you would stop…but they persist in the fucking extreme.”

  His words turned her breasts heavy, the dusky buds tightening into peaks. “Elias…”

  The attraction between them had always been poignant, but this was a side of him she’d never seen before. A side he’d never allowed her to see.

  Her body liked being perused by him. There was no denying it. She turned soft and pliant between her thighs, her clitoris seeming to pulse for attention. There was more than just her physical response, however. He looked at her like she was a rare treasure, even though she was decorated in bruises and something about that made her heart ache.

  Elias’s eyes squeezed shut. He pressed his fists to his temples, knuckles turning white, until finally he jolted into action. Eyes blazing open like golden glowing coals, he removed his T-shirt, jerking it down over her head, covering her drenched body. Stepping back and observing his handiwork—and it was immediately obvious he hadn’t thought through this impromptu wet T-shirt contest.

  “Sweet Jesus,” he breathed, raking a hand down his face. “Can you get out on your own Roksana? I’m afraid if I touch you…”

  Imagining his hands on her waist, gripping, sliding lower, she barely managed to nod. “Da, I think so.” Gathering the hem of the sodden shirt, she stepped over the rim of the tub, but her hamstring chose that moment to spasm and her heel caught, causing her to lose her balance. “Elias.”

  Calling his name wasn’t even necessary. She’d barely pitched forward when he caught her against his chest, groaning. The primal sound was still ringing in her head when Elias spun on a heel at mach point vampire and flattened her against the bathroom wall, leaving her toes inches from the floor.

  Their mouths were dangerously close. Hers panting, his hard. Predatory.

  Roksana’s loins pulled taut, tickling a part deep inside o
f her. So deep and intimate, her thighs shot up reflexively to anchor the sensation. It didn’t work, though. No, it didn’t, because Elias caught her by the knees, settled her around his waist and pressed his hips into the cradle of hers. One forward pressing step forced a gasp out of her mouth, right against his lips.

  Elias is hard for me.

  He’s really, really hard. For me.

  She was in nothing but a drenched T-shirt that had ridden up to her belly button, sandwiched between a wall and muscles so tense, she braced for a snap.

  “The way you fit me…” Elias said hoarsely, “…is obscene.”

  Where was the lie? Her legs might as well have been molded to wrap about his hips, her breasts crushing to the mantle of his pectorals, their mouths on level. To say nothing of his steel erection. Even through denim, it pushed apart the lips of her sex. As if seeking its home.

  “Remind me why you hate me,” he implored her, his nose burying in her neck to inhale. “Remind me why I’ll never have the right to touch you.”

  Roksana’s heart lurched. She opened her mouth to recount the massacre in Vegas, as she’d done to him several times before, but no amount of willpower would force the words out. Instead, she found her fingers traveling through his hair, tugging the dark strands.

  Without a direct command from her brain, her ankles locked at the small of his back.

  “Roksana,” he warned, surging forward to grind her into the wall, his lips peeled back in a pained snarl. “You need to be careful with me.”

  “Don’t you know by now that warnings only entice me, vampire?” she breathed.

  Something akin to affection sparked in his eyes, before it was swallowed up once again by lust. Regret. “Remind me what I’ve done. Now.”

  “Or what?”

  He laid the flat of his tongue against her pulse and dragged it slowly up to her jaw, grazing her there with his teeth. “Or I’m going to unzip these jeans and finally fuck you.”

  Now would be an awkward time to tell Elias she was a virgin.