by K J Sutton
Shaking myself, I rush down the stairs. Silverware clinks in the dining room and I can hear Clarissa and Benjamin’s voices. A moment later, my heart flutters at the sound of Drew joining in. I resist the temptation say good evening to him and duck into the kitchen.
The door swings shut behind me, and instantly the sounds from the other room are subdued, replaced by the sound of sizzling. Ada acknowledges me with a brief nod, then brushes past, a platter of bacon balanced on one hand. I snatch a piece for myself just as she goes through the doors, and the vampire’s only response is to shoot me a glare over her shoulder. Swallowing a sigh, I turn around, take in the mountain of dishes, and get to work.
For the next hour, I stand at the enormous sinks, my hands plunged deep into the soapy water. My skin wrinkles from scrubbing at grease-covered pans. As I work, I watch the bubbles slowly evaporate, becoming nothing. Just like me. I find myself slowing to stare at them just as Ada comes back. She pours more hot water into her cup, then lingers at the stove to fuss with her tea bag.
“You remind me of him,” she says suddenly. I glance at her, startled. When I realize who she’s talking about, Ada must see the instant denial in my eyes, because she waves a pale, slender hand. “Oh, not in your face, of course—he’s not your real father, after all. But there’s a way you… move sometimes. So deliberately. As if you’re thinking through every smallest action before you make it. He does the same thing.”
The fondness in her voice is unmistakable. “You know him?” I ask after a moment, mentally flipping through all the possibilities of how, exactly, this beautiful vampire would’ve known my father. And, for the hundredth time, why Gabriela would send me to her.
“No. I knew him,” Ada says. For a few seconds, she’s silent again. Outside, the wind howls. Then she asks, “Why aren’t you feeding?”
My hands go still in the warm water. I keep my gaze down, as if I can hide the truth from her by avoiding it. “What do you mean?” I ask.
Her eyes darken, but with irritation or disappointment, I can’t tell. Probably both. “Don’t do that,” she says. “Don’t demean yourself by acting like the rest of those fools.”
A snarky response rises to my lips. I swallow it back down and focus on drying the pot in my hands. A moment later, I realize I’m moving in just the way Ada described—slowly, carefully, deliberately. Maybe I’m more like Alexander Travesty than either he or I want to believe. “Fine,” I say tightly, knowing she’s still waiting for a response. “I haven’t fed because I don’t like causing pain. It’s something I’ve always had trouble with. My siblings used to make fun of me for it. Happy?”
I dare to glance at Ada, and my response makes her smile, but there’s no happiness in the curve of her lips. Just mockery and disdain. “How noble,” she says, taking a drink of her tea. Steam rises from cup. “You starve yourself, practically inviting the vampire within to take control, and think nothing of the consequences? Well, at least when you massacre an entire family because you’ve gone into a blood rage, you won’t cause much pain—their deaths will be too quick for that.”
Fuck you. The words lodge in my throat. Ada watches me with a cool expression, and I realize that she wants to rankle me. She wants to gauge how much control I have. Clever, evil bitch. The monster heaves, straining against its constraints, making that locked door shudder. “Would you like me to do anything else?” I ask coldly. The sink gurgles as it drains.
Ada’s gaze bores into mine. After a moment, her intensity falls away like a mask, and she picks up her teacup. “No, thank you. That will be all… for now.”
As she walks out, more snatches of sound drift to me. There’s no time for me to eat—I can hear chairs legs moaning across the wooden floor and feet pounding toward the front door. Right on cue, Drew pokes his head into the kitchen. His lavender eyes find me at the sink, and an automatic smile touches his lips. “Ready?” he asks.
This time, I don’t hesitate. “Ready,” I say, smiling back.
I dry my hands on a small towel and hurry toward him. There’s no sign of Nina, which means she probably spent the night with her mystery boyfriend. Drew and I find our coats, pull them on, then rush out into New Ve.
No one ever seems deterred by the bitter wind or gray skies—the street is filled with slaves and workers. My brow lowers when I spot one of the undertaker vehicles is coming this way, its black sides and sharp edges gleaming in the moonlight. Has there been another attack? No, Noah would’ve told me, or Danielle Winter. I frown and hurry after Drew.
Our shift is uneventful. I’m paired with a human named Gulshan, and while she doesn’t seemed thrilled to be walking the sewers alongside a Lavender, she isn’t unkind. We empty the rat traps along our route and respond to a call about an obstruction on the train track, which turns out to be a drunk shapeshifter.
Hours later, the walkie-talkie blares into the stillness. Time to head back to the surface.
“Want to go to Rowan’s tonight?” Drew asks when I arrive at the lockers.
I hesitate, thinking that I should really go back to the feeding unit. But I can’t bring myself to tell him this, to remind him so blatantly of what I am. “Yeah, sure,” I say at last. Drew doesn’t seem to notice anything strange in my tone, and after a moment, I hurry to change out of the jumpsuit and get in line for the shower.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re walking into Rowan’s. Since the weeper attack, there have been bouncers stationed at the door, two hulking vampires with golden eyes. They recognize me and Drew, and the one of the left waves us through.
Just inside the doorway, Drew is immediately sidetracked by a group of people he knows. I keep going, weaving my way through the crowd to reach the bar. There’s a band playing tonight—according to a flyer resting on the bar, they’re called Let It Bleed.
“I’ll have a Maliblood and Coke,” I call to the bartender, a snake-eyed shapeshifter named Wyatt. He nods and turns away to make it. Battling a sudden urge to walk home, borrow a book from Ada’s library, and slip into bed, I lift my eyes and spot Noah at the other end of the bar, staring back at me.
The moment our gazes meet, I feel it through my entire body. Something about him breathes violence, yet everything in me still tightens at the sight of his heavy-lidded smirk. And he knows it, too, no matter how hard I try to hide it.
A second later, Noah breaks our stare and leans his narrow hips casually against the bar and smiles at the bartender. As she flushes from the attention, my eyes drag up the length of him. I loathe the sharp line of his jaw, the thick cut of his thighs, his broad shoulders. I loathe it all so much that I turn away and hurry onto the dance floor, where distractions and friends await with shouts of greeting.
I spend the next hour dancing and meeting more of Drew’s never-ending stream of friends. Eventually I manage to sneak away, back to our table, and pick up my glass. After a quick, cautious sniff to make sure no one spiked it, I take an enormous drink. Drew appears at my side again, tipping his head back to finish his beer. I watch his throat work, my gaze drawn again and again to that vein pulsing with every gulp. “I’m going to grab another one!” he shouts, touching my shoulder. “You doing okay?”
I show him my drink, still half full, and Drew nods. As I watch him walk away, I feel a warm presence to my right. I turn and meet the gaze of a tree nymph. “You’re that Travesty princess who was kicked out,” she says.
I take another sip of my cocktail, glancing in Drew’s direction under my lashes. Please come back and talk to this female so I don’t have to, I think at him. “Yeah, I guess that would be me.”
She shifts closer. Her perfume is overwhelming, a combination of sweat and roses. There’s hatred in the set of her jaw, the flush in her cheeks, how her eyes narrow. Even the tips of her hair seem to curl. “Hey… isn’t it legal to kill a Lavender?” she asks suddenly.
Fear rushes through my body like a gust of wind tearing through a house, slamming every window and door wide open. I dart a glance around us,
searching for anything I can use as a weapon. Nymphs are a bit harder to kill than humans—snapping their neck isn’t a permanent ending. Maybe I can break the leg off a chair. Every part of my body tenses, readying to move.
“Did I just hear you threaten my partner?” a familiar voice purrs. Though I don’t turn around, I can smell Noah’s cologne, rich and alluring, even over the stench of alcohol and sweat all around us.
The nymph knows who he is—it’s obvious in the way her eyes widen. “Not at all,” she says quickly, backing away. “Just making conversation.”
With that, she melts into the throng of dancers. Slowly, I force myself to meet Noah’s bottomless eyes, surrounded by those thick lashes, and speak with ice in my voice. “Thank you.”
Noah quirks a raven brow. “Careful using those words around here, halfling. Nothing ever comes free.”
“No?” I ask, holding my drink tighter. “Then what’s your price?”
The bounty hunter just makes a noncommittal sound and, without so much as a goodbye, ambles away. He disappears into the crowd, drawing gazes as he goes… including mine. And then he’s gone.
Suddenly I’m so, so tired. Tired of Noah and his limitless supply of arrogance, tired of keeping the monster locked away, and tired of caring so much what all these people think. I’m getting up from the chair and reaching for my jacket when a familiar scent assails my sense.
I lift my head, already smiling. “Do you want to get some ice cream, or something?” Drew asks without preamble. He sounds uncharacteristically uncertain—he’s probably remembering the last time he tried to ask me out.
I look into his eyes and see the sincere light in them. But a denial rises to my lips as I think, for the thousandth time, of the Lavender laws and Nina’s warning. “Yes. I’d like that,” I hear myself say.
Drew grins so hugely that I can’t bring myself to take it back. Swallowing, I accept my jacket from him, internally wavering as he turns to get his own. Then he’s grabbing my hand and leading us to the door, and I’m caught up in the thrill of it, unable to speak the words at the back of my throat.
Our departure doesn’t go unnoticed—I catch Benjamin’s eye as we’re leaving. I smile and wave, hoping to make the situation look harmless. Innocent. Don’t mind us, no, we’re totally not about to go on a date. Oh, and I’m definitely not thinking of the different ways I could drink from him.
Benjamin’s expression gives nothing away, and as we step into the night, I have no idea if he believed it.
Drew tells me he knows a place near the boardinghouse. Since he doesn’t seem to be worried about Nina spotting us, I decide I’m not, either. After all, it’s only ice cream.
The name of the diner glows green—Mickey’s. It matches the plastic booths we slide into a few seconds later. Though the place is busy, an orange-haired slave girl rushes over to us right away and takes Drew’s order of two ice cream sundaes.
Once the menus are gone and our bowls arrive, Drew refocuses on me. His cheeks are a lovely shade of pink. Seeing that, smelling that rush of blood, makes heat pool at my center.
I stare down at my ice cream, and suddenly it looks disgusting. No, that’s not the word—unsatisfying. “Do you want to get out of here?” I blurt, and for a wild moment, I don’t know if it was me or the monster that spoke. Me. Of course it was me.
“Yes,” Drew says instantly. Without another word, he slides out of the booth. My lips twitch as I follow suit, and together, we walk casually out of the diner, leaving our untouched sundaes on the table. It feels like everyone knows exactly why we’re leaving, but I don’t give them the satisfaction of looking embarrassed. It would only be kindling onto the fire.
Once again, Drew and I walk the dark, rainy streets of New Ve. This time, though, there’s a tension in how we walk. An… expectation. The banter is gone, our easy flirtation evaporated. And as Ada’s boardinghouse comes into view, the fire between us only burns hotter.
We quietly ascend the uneven stairs and step into the shadows.
“Sounds like everyone is in bed,” I murmur, breaking the silence at last. Rain patters all around us. Neither of us move to go in, and Drew’s eyes drop to my lips. We’re standing so that our breathing clouds the air, mingling together before dissipating. The hush of the frigid night hovers around us.
Then, tired of waiting, I boldly tilt my head up. My lips brush the front of Drew’s shirt, seeking his bare, warm skin. I kiss his collarbone next, keeping my eyes closed. I run my hands down his back, then tug his shirt out of his jeans so I can touch more of his skin.
But Drew is even more urgent than me—with one hand on the back of my head, fingers gathering a fistful of hair, he pushes the door open and pulls me inside. The instant the door closes, his mouth comes down on mine, and I’m quickly reminded that Drew Hayes is a very, very good kisser. We make out all the way down the hall. Reckless, reckless, you’re being reckless, a voice hisses in my head. Heeding it, I break apart from Drew’s perfect mouth. He starts to protest, but I shake my head and take his hand. On swift, soundless feet, I lead him up the stairs and into my room.
Drew’s heart pounds harder, echoing in my ears. I pause to search his face, but there’s no trace of fear there. Only excitement. I smile as my fingers move toward the button of his jeans, and I hesitate only a moment before tugging it open—I’ve never been a very patient lover.
When I take Drew’s hard cock into my grasp, a growl rumbles through him, and he moves to grab me. With a faint, cruel smile, I push him away and force Drew to watch as I lower to my knees. He swears under his breath. In an instant, I’m taking his length into my mouth—his sounds make me smile—and trying to lure him to the edge. I tease him mercilessly with hand and tongue, and soon Drew has one hand on the wall for balance, the other tangled in my hair.
Without warning, though, he pulls me to my feet, and then he’s the one on his knees. Slowly, doing some teasing of his own, he brushes his mouth along every one of my ribs. As my breathing quickens, Drew slips his fingers inside my jeans, quickly finding the folds of that hidden place.
“You’re so wet,” he whispers, dipping his head slowly to rain kisses across my stomach. “I want to taste you.”
And I want to taste you, I think, biting my lip. God, I want him so badly.
Drew suddenly withdraws his fingers, leaving me empty. Before I can protest, he guides me onto the bed, his intentions clear, and I raise my hips to help him pull my underwear down. Pushing my thighs apart, Drew’s mouth traces a trail up my leg before he’s on me, hot and eager, his tongue delving into my folds before finally settling onto my clit, slowly circling. I can’t stop myself from letting out a long, blissful moan.
After a few seconds, I want to see his mouth on me, and I push myself up on my elbows. But once again, Drew has other plans. He raises his body over mine again, and kisses my neck next, licking my skin and making my back arch. Smiling softly, Drew unhooks my bra and runs his hands around to cup my breasts. I shiver as air whispers over my bare skin and his fingers circle my nipples. Then, wrapping my legs around him, Drew bends over and reaches for his jeans. A condom wrapper glints silver in the moonlight.
Drew makes quick work of tearing it open with his teeth and pulling the condom on. As I watch him, my core quivers in anticipation. Drew repositions his cock and slowly, meeting my gaze, pushes it inside me.
It feels like he goes as deep as he can, so I feel every inch of him inside me. I bite back a cry of ecstasy. “Charlie…” Drew breathes into my ear, beginning to draw himself out. I bury my face in his shoulder, loving his scent. Longing to taste it for myself. But I resist, and as our hips lock, we start to move together in a delicious rhythm.
After a few hot, pounding, moan-filled minutes, Drew’s movements change slightly—his pace quickens and his heart accelerates. As a result, the vein in his neck stands out, and I find myself staring at it as Drew lets out a final, husky moan. His cock buries in me one last time and stays there, twitching and releasing. I
rake my nails down his back, clenching around him again, which draws yet another moan from Drew.
Breathing hard, he leans back to look at me, and I force myself to return his gaze, smiling, even though all my thoughts are on that vein now. What’s inside it. How hot it would feel. How delicious it would taste.
I’m either far too easy to read, or Drew is far too perceptive, because a frown flits across his lovely mouth. “Are you okay? Was I too rough with you? Fuck, I should’ve—”
I smile and skim my fingers over the smooth planes of his chest. Suddenly I realize that I’ve never been with a human before—Drew is my first. Strange, giddy laughter bubbles up inside me. And here I thought I’d never be a virgin again.
“Charlie?” Drew says, the worry obvious in his tone and in the line between his eyes. He searches my face. Something he sees there makes him frown. “You didn’t come.”
It’s not a question. Before I can decide whether or not to lie, Drew leans down and runs his tongue over my nipples. I shiver as they harden against his mouth. His fingers drift downward. When I make a sound of pleasure, he pulls back to grin. Those mischievous fingers go still.
“Tell me what I can do to make this happen for you. Do you want me to put on a costume? Dance around? Strip for you?” He gulps playfully. “Do you want to stick something in weird places?”
A laugh bursts from me, and I feel my eyes widen as I cover my mouth. What if someone heard that? Drew stays silent, waiting for my answer. Seeing no way to avoid it, I lower my hands and sigh. “For some vampires, we can only finish if we’re…”
“If you’re what?” he encourages.
I force myself to meet his gaze. “If we’re feeding while we fuck.”