Bitten (The Graced Series Book 2)

by Amanda Pillar

  “You have a baby, you’re a vampire. I’m human. It’s just not going to work.”

  “It doesn’t have to work forever.” Why did she get the feeling that she was lying? And mostly to herself? “It just has to work now.”

  “Hannah—”

  She kissed him again. Sliding backward, she tugged at his coat. When he didn’t help her, she pulled her shirt off over her head, then grabbed one of his hands and pressed it to a breast. The cold air made her nipple pebble, and Fin gave a low groan.

  “Fuck, Hannah—”

  He kissed her again, less controlled, more animalistic. Like he was starving, just for her. She wanted to push him back, to climb all over him, but she was worried about hurting his ribs. So she lay back, drawing Fin down on top of her. He didn’t resist, and was soon sprawled over her. His weight felt wonderful, like he’d been designed to fit against her and no one else.

  Her hands were greedy, hungry to touch as much of him as possible. Rearing up, Fin threw off his jacket, jumper and shirt, and then he was leaning down, the skin of his torso burning as it came into contact with her breasts and stomach. His chest hair created slight friction against her skin and she arched into the contact.

  She thought she might explode from the wonder of just feeling him. Nothing else. No memories, no invasive ideas. Just skin on skin. Her and Fin.

  Finally though, his hands began to explore her with the same intensity as hers on him. She moaned as they closed over her breasts again, and this time, he didn’t just leave them there; this time he knew exactly what he was doing. He trailed kisses down her face, neck, and her jaw clenched as his mouth found her nipple. Her breath left her in a whoosh. Sliding her hand down, she encircled the long length of his erection, and his body jerked. He was so big she wondered how he’d fit.

  “Hannah.”

  “Fin?”

  She stroked her palm over him, and his eyes rolled back. Then his hand was sliding over her stomach, tautening the muscles. His clever fingers delved beneath the waistband of her pants, and cupped her. Her whole body turned to liquid, and she relaxed into his touch. Panting, her hand still stroking him, she unbuttoned his trousers while one long finger slowly slid inside her.

  Fin stilled. “Fuck.”

  “Fin?”

  “You’re so tight.”

  Then he shut his eyes and slowly pulled his hand away. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Fin?”

  “Hannah, we have to stop. I don’t think—”

  She stroked his cheek. “It’s okay, Fin. I trust you.”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  “I do anyway.”

  He stared at her for what felt like an age, before awkwardly removing his pants. When he crawled over to her, it was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. Everything about Fin was sexy, though. Hannah quickly discarded her trousers, too.

  “Hannah—”

  Then he was over her, her legs parting to cradle his hips, his hands stroking her skin. But she needed to feel him. To be with him.

  His head lowered to hers, face strained. “Are you sure?”

  Lifting her hips up, she hissed as the head of his penis touched her. “Yes.”

  Even that felt amazing.

  Slowly he pushed into her, stretching her. Resting his weight on his elbows, he placed one palm under her head, the other clasping one of her hands. Their fingers twined together. Hannah breathed in, tasting the scent of Fin: verbena and lemon. She had never felt so precious, so cared for.

  Then he was fully within her.

  Hannah felt strangely complete; her body intertwined with Fin’s, their hearts beating madly within their chests, together.

  “Are you okay?” Fin whispered.

  She wasn’t. Somehow, a large part of her heart wasn’t hers anymore. But right now, she didn’t care.

  “I’m perfect.”

  Chapter 51

  Pinton City

  “What’s that?”

  Looking up — and up — from her paperwork, Alice met Kyle’s curious gaze.

  “My notes on the autopsies.”

  He gave her a bright grin as she gathered her paperwork together. He was persistent, that’s for sure. Too bad he wasn’t her type. Not that she really had a type. But those were just details.

  Kyle rubbed his chin, and then picked up a glass slide from the wooden tray where she’d stacked them. She wasn’t sure how long the samples would last, so she was checking them every hour or two while she was at the morgue, to determine how long the cells stayed active.

  “What are you doing?” He turned the slide over in his fingers.

  Alice shoved back a curl that had escaped her bun. “Trying to identify the killer’s species.”

  Kyle held the slide up to his eye level. “What’s on these?”

  “Sperm.”

  Kyle glanced at the glass rectangle in his hand, as if he was holding a spider. “As in seed?”

  “As in seed,” Alice repeated.

  Kyle quickly replaced the slide, then wiped his hands on his pants, looking around. For a faucet? “Where did you get that from?”

  “My friend, Tal.”

  Kyle frowned. “Tal is a woman. Women don’t make seed.”

  Good to see he knew basic biology. “No, but she got some donated to her from the university’s medical school.”

  “Right. Donated.” He made a fist and pumped it up and down in the air, a curious and yet confused look on his face.

  Alice nodded, stifling a laugh. “Donated.”

  “Your job is weird, Alice. You know that?”

  “Says the guy who beats people up for a living.”

  Kyle’s fingers rose to his chin again, then he thought better of it and shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.”

  “So what brings you down here?” Alice asked.

  The large man sighed. “Another body. Elle is bringing it in. After you look at it, Captain Mikael wants to have a chat about the vampire murders.”

  Alice’s heart pounded. “Another vampire?”

  “No, this one is human. Killed in a domestic argument, we think.”

  Relief poured through her. And then she felt sick. She was comforted that a human was dead rather than a vampire? That a human had been killed by someone they loved? She was getting too involved in this murder case. Too invested.

  What was it about these victims that called to her?

  *

  Clutching the handle of her black medical bag, Alice strode up the stone staircase. She pushed open the door at the top and entered the reception area of the City Guard headquarters, where Captain Mikael was waiting for her, dressed in the formal attire of the City Guard: black pants, jacket and cravat, with a white shirt. Medals were pinned on his chest.

  Alice checked her own clothing; black pants, red shirt and black jacket. She wasn’t dressed anywhere near as formally. “Are you going somewhere after our chat?”

  Mikael frowned. “We’re going somewhere for our chat.”

  “What?”

  “Didn’t Guard McInnes mention you were meant to attend a meeting about the vampire murders?”

  Alice shuffled sideways. “He said we were to have a chat.”

  Captain Mikael sighed and ran a hand over his closely cropped hair. “We’re going to the Crystal Palace.”

  Alice’s bag dropped to the floor with a clatter. “What?”

  Mikael gave her a humorless smile, his teeth white against his dark skin. “Missed that part of the message, then?”

  “Yes,” she growled.

  “How about we go via your place, so you can pop on something a little more formal?”

  “Is there time?” Alice asked.

  “No, but the king may be more offended that you didn’t dress for the occasion than if you’re late.”

  The two of them walked out of the guard house. Alice didn’t know the captain very well, but she�
�d heard good things about him. He was one of those strong, silent types, and Alice had to admit, something about that was appealing. But Mikael was a good decade or two older than her, and there was an aloofness to him that made her slightly uneasy. But she knew that nothing bad would happen to her while in his company, even surrounded by vampires.

  From the edge of the pavement, Mikael hailed a two-person hackney. “What’s your address?”

  Alice gave him the number on Glove Road and climbed into the cab, taking the second seat while the captain spoke to the driver. Alice couldn’t normally afford to catch a hackney, so she peered out the open window into the streets, admiring them from her slightly raised position. Mikael got into the cab, and Alice squished over further in the scratchy but clean seat, to allow the guard captain’s large body to fit. Then the driver pulled himself up onto the back of the vehicle and clicked the horses into motion.

  They rode in silence, Alice clutching her bag on her lap. As she watched the streets whiz by, her thoughts ran wildly through the potential outfits that were suitable for a meeting with the king. Sure, she had met him before, but she’d been on duty in the morgue. He could hardly have expected her to be dressed for that occasion.

  The cab pulled up out the front of her apartment block, and Alice jumped out then dashed up the stairs, through the entry door and up to her apartment. She slammed the dark blue door shut behind her, and dropped her medical bag on the small table inside the entry. Then she hurried into her room, pulling off her jacket and then her shirt. She dropped them onto the made bed. She wished she could fold them, but there was no time.

  Opening the door of her standalone closet, Alice stared at the five dresses she owned, running her fingers across the soft, slippery materials. One was the knee-length number she’d worn when she went out to dinner with Tal; another was a bright yellow sunny dress with a wide skirt, designed for warm weather, not the cool nights of spring. There was really only one option: her burnt-orange gown. She’d only worn it once, for her graduation. It had been a gift from her aunt, and had probably cost her four months’ worth of commissions. As a result, Alice had been terrified to wear the outfit.

  Her pants joined the rest of her clothing on the bed. After pulling on her stays as quickly as possible, Alice reverently removed the gown from its place at the end of her closet, where the other garments wouldn’t crush it. She unlaced the dress and stepped into it. It had inbuilt petticoats, and slid on easily. Thank goodness that she hadn’t put on much weight since she graduated.

  The dress laced up the side, rather than the back, and while it took a bit of contorting, she managed to fasten it. Alice hoped that Captain Mikael wasn’t too impatient. She pulled a pair of high-heeled shoes from the bottom of the wardrobe and slipped them on, then stopped quickly in front of a mirror. It only showed her torso and up, but she was astonished at how her breasts seemed to spill over the top of the gown. Maybe she had grown a bit, but in places she hadn’t really thought about.

  She didn’t have much jewelry, but opted for a black pearl necklace that her mother had owned. It would do. She then undid her hair, spilling it over her shoulders in rambunctious curls. There wasn’t much more she could do with it. Feeling awkward in her high heels and silk gown, she grabbed the only reticule she owned — it was dark gray and happened to match her pearls — shoved her keys inside it, then slipped out the door and dashed down the stairs, like a damsel in a novel.

  When she reached the street, she carefully lifted her skirts to avoid getting dust on her hem. This area of town didn’t get its sidewalks washed down every day. As she got back into the cab, Mikael let out a low whistle. Blushing, she fiddled with her reticule.

  “Only dress I owned that was fancy enough.”

  He gave her a bright grin. “Well, it’s worth the wait.”

  “I hope the king doesn’t mind.”

  Fifteen minutes later the hackney pulled up in front of the Crystal Palace. A footman ran down the marble stairs and hovered next to the cab, as there was no door to open. He held out his hand for Alice to climb down; as she took it, she met his pale lavender gaze with a start. The man was a vampire.

  Almost dropping his hand, Alice lighted on the ground, Mikael close behind her.

  “We have an appointment with the king,” Mikael said, straightening to his full height. He towered over the servant, and Alice. The footman nodded and led them up the staircase and into the white marble foyer of the palace. Alice was amazed. A crimson rug, lined with filaments of gold thread, ran along the center of the foyer. Her eyes were drawn to a massive chandelier, which hung low overhead, and craning her neck upward, she stared at its glittering, fragile crystals.

  A hand touched her shoulder, and Alice started. “We need to go to the king,” Captain Mikael said.

  Nodding, Alice followed the large guard, her eyes shifting from his shoulders to the recessed niches, which housed vases so unusual she couldn’t think of who might have created them. By the time she arrived at the king’s reception chamber, Alice was overwhelmed.

  She and Mikael stepped inside, to find the king wasn’t alone. The viscountess, her brother, Elle Brown, and a tall, wickedly handsome man with long, pale-brown hair were also in the room. The chamber had soaring ceilings, with gilded wallpaper, and a large metal table and matching chairs with delicate legs and red velvet cushions. An empty fireplace stood at one end, and large windows overlooked lush gardens. Elle and the handsome man were talking quietly, Elle in a blood-red dress that took Alice’s breath away. She hadn’t ever seen the city guard wearing anything other than trousers before. The man she was talking to glanced at Alice with bright yellow eyes; it had to be Elle’s fiancé.

  Too bad now wasn’t the right time to ask him for a semen sample.

  To the side of the room, the king was talking to a man — human? — with brown curly hair and skin a few shades darker than her own. The king’s face was pinched, as if he was in pain. But vampires didn’t really suffer pain, not unless they had an injury. Maybe he was just bored? The man the king conversed with was stiff, like he was annoyed with the conversation. But the human nodded, his back to Alice, and moved his hands. He then pocketed something and he wiped his nose. Shortly after, he left the room through a side door, without glancing at any of the occupants. Alice wondered if he was the king’s mysterious lover, the one Tal and Misty had discussed.

  Turning toward them all, the king linked his hands in front of him. Then he smiled, and it was devastating. Alice’s knees went slightly weak.

  “Let’s sit.”

  Chapter 52

  Whiteoak Hamlet

  Fin took a quick — very quick — bath in the stream behind the inn before he headed inside. Shivering and without a shirt, but with his slightly damp jumper covering his torso, he climbed the stairs to the room he shared with Byrne. His shirt was actually soaking wet in his hand, and Fin hoped Byrne wouldn’t ask too many questions about it. He couldn’t really feel his balls; the water had nearly frozen them off. Cold droplets fell from his overlong hair, trickling uncomfortable paths down the back of his neck. Maybe he should have followed Byrne’s stream-bath idea before he’d gone to check on Hannah. Then Fin wouldn’t have had enough feeling left in his junk to act on his impulses.

  Although even that might not have stopped him.

  It had been Hannah.

  He’d made an effort not to pay too much attention to her since the bruising around his eyes had lost its swelling. He didn’t think he’d seen a more beautiful woman. Ever. And he’d seen plenty of good-looking ladies, both with clothes and without. No doubt his sisters would say he’d seen too many, but they weren’t here to bother him about his lifestyle choices. That’s why he’d left. Well, no. That wasn’t the entire reason. His sisters had been supportive of him and Karly, even though the two of them hadn’t been much more than teenagers.

  He just wished they hadn't been so accepting.

  He and Hannah hadn’t discussed h
im sleeping there in the back of the wagon cart with her; she hadn’t asked and he hadn’t offered. After they’d snuggled for a few minutes, he’d hightailed it back to the inn, as if his ass was on fire. Something like panic had sat heavily inside his stomach, as he lay there after they’d joined. She’d looped her arm loosely over his torso, mindful of his ribs; she was always careful of him, because she thought him fragile. Him. Fin Castle. Fragile. He’d just gotten beaten up by a whole friggin’ town, and he’d survived. Sure, Byrne had helped him out a little, but Fin had sort of walked away from the thrashing.

  He was totally hardcore.

  Still, Fin had laid there, the hard wooden slats of the wagon pressed against his back, hearing Hannah breathing, and he hadn’t wanted to move — hadn’t wanted to spoil the moment. It had been dark, and even though he hadn’t been able to see Hannah, he had truly seen her. He’d wanted to stay, but that urge was what had made him leave.

  Normally, after sharing a pleasant interlude with a lovely woman, Fin would give the lady a smile and some sweet words. Then he’d skedaddle. But this wasn’t just any woman. This was Hannah. And he’d done the unthinkable.

  Well, he amended, it had certainly been thinkable. That was why he’d managed to get himself in that situation. Calling himself a few choice swearwords in a language Byrne wouldn’t understand, Fin ran a hand through his hair and then opened the door to their room.

  “You were gone a while,” Byrne said.

  Fin couldn’t meet the bear’s gaze. He’d never been ashamed of himself before, not when it came to women. Sure, he’d hated himself, but that was because of what happened with Karly. If he’d been able to keep it in his pants, then Karly and Callie wouldn’t have died. Then again, Callie would never have been conceived and his life would be very different.

  However, something awfully like shame was settling over him right now.

  “How’s Rena?” Fin asked, shutting the door behind him. He crouched down over Rena’s basket, close to the fire and discretely laid his shirt out in front of the hearth to dry. It would be wrinkled as fuck, but whatever.