Yael looked at her, the haziness in her gaze clearing into a sharp focus. “Hadassah. Do you know that woman?”
“She’s…well, I thought she was a client. But apparently not. Do you know her?”
“Yes,” Yael whispered in a hoarse, broken voice. “But I wish I did not.”
And then, she ran.
Chapter Eleven
Yael had to get out of here. To escape. She’d been discovered, because certainly the witch would have told Hadassah the truth about Yael, who she was. What she was. What she had done. At the end of the hall, she stopped herself short, her mind whirling, unable to recall which way she’d entered the building. Which door? Which path?
Which choice?
“Yael!”
Hadassah’s voice tried to turn her, but Yael could not allow herself to stop. She had to get out of here before Hadassah called a guard down on her the way she’d done on the witch. How had the witch found her? Would she be waiting outside?
Yael’s heart pounded. Her feet tangled, tripping her up. She fell against the wall, holding herself up with one hand, aware that she thought she’d been running as fast as she could but that she’d gone only a few steps before finding herself frozen in place. Was it a binding spell? Was she trapped?
“Yael,” Hadassah said, closer now, and the warmth of her hand on Yael’s shoulder was enough to send a shudder of both longing and fear through her.
Yael sagged and pressed her forehead to the wall. Her eyes closed. She tried to speak, to explain, but only a low moan escaped her. Again, she felt Hadassah’s touch trying to turn her, but she could not allow it. Terrible enough that the witch had found her, but worse that she had discovered Hadassah.
“Don’t…” she pleaded. “Don’t touch me, Hadassah.”
“Let me help you.”
Yael cringed away from the tender touch. “You cannot help me.”
She had not been created for running. Facing the threat and protecting her creator had been her commands. Until she’d defected from the witch who’d summoned her, Yael had been very good at her purpose…but she’d never learned how to protect or defend herself.
She ran now though. Down the hall. Out the front doors of Sanctuary, as fast as she could, her boots slapping the pavement. She stumbled again, this time going to her knees on the rough pavement. She bruised her borrowed flesh. Something sharp sliced into the palm of one hand, and she cried out but forced herself to her feet so she could run on, ignoring the blood gushing from the wound—she wasn’t afraid of blood, and even though she knew it was going to allow Hadassah to track her, she could not risk stopping. Not until she’d found the witch…and killed her.
You will never be free of me. The witch’s words echoed in Yael’s mind as she freed herself of the shields she’d been doing her best to maintain for the past few weeks. They hadn’t protected her, not enough, and now instead of keeping herself hidden from her creator, she wanted to make sure the witch discovered her…and, rounding a corner, she did.
“You should have stayed inside.” The witch stepped out from the alley and leaned against the corner of the building as casually as if she’d been waiting there for Yael all along. Perhaps she had. “They could have kept you safe from me, in there.”
Yael, breathing hard, felt her hands clutch into fists she did not even attempt to open. “Why should I need to be safe from you? Why can’t you just let me go?”
“Let you go?” The witch laughed incredulously. “I own you!”
Yael shook her head. “No. Not anymore. I won’t do what you ask.”
“What, you won’t kill for me? Please. Look at the meat suit you’ve got on. You walk around in it like you own that, but you stole it. You know what you did to get that body.”
“I…did not,” Yael gasped.
“Semantics. In the end, she died, no matter which one of us actually did it. Do you want to go back to where you came from? Is that it? You want me to send you back to the demon realm? I could.” The witch flexed her fingers in Yael’s direction. “Just. Like. That.”
Before Yael could answer, the witch stepped toward her. “Oh…no. You don’t want to leave this world. I can smell it on you. It’s as rotten as the corpse you’re wearing. It’s because of her, isn’t it? That hemomancer. Does she know what you are? She can’t possibly. Don’t you know, Yael, that nobody will ever care for you the way I can?”
“Don’t touch me.” Yael moved a step back.
The witch frowned. “Come on home with me. We’ll get you out of that nasty shell and into something more attractive. I prefer blondes.”
“You hate this body because it belonged to someone you think wronged you. She shouldn’t have had to die for your…your…” Yael struggled to find the words to describe what she wanted to say. “Your smallness. Your weakness.”
“You’re calling me weak?”
“If you were strong,” Yael said, “you would never have needed to summon me in the first place.”
The witch drew herself up as tall as she could. “You really think I’m a terrible person, don’t you? Where do you get off, judging me? You’re not even human. You don’t deserve to be in this realm. I brought you out. I can put you back in.”
“Do it, then!” Yael’s voice tore from her throat in a growl as she took a step forward. “Stop making promises you can’t keep!”
Magic, like the tides, ebbed and flowed even within the one who wielded it, and this witch was no different. She’d been strong enough to pull Yael forth, but she hadn’t been able to maintain control. She didn’t have the skill to return her to the demon realm, no matter what she threatened, and Yael saw that clearly, now. Mingled relief and sorrow warred within her—human emotions, difficult to manage and even harder to interpret.
Yael wanted to go home…didn’t she?
“All I wanted was someone to protect me for once!” The witch raised her clenched fists and shook them as her voice cracked and broke. She pressed her eyes with the heels of her palms and then raked her fingers through the fall of her thick dark hair. Her shoulders heaved with panting breaths.
Of all the emotions Yael had been sorting through since she’d put on this meat suit, pity was not one she’d yet encountered. It tasted bitter, but also sweet, with an undertang of copper. Somewhat like blood, she thought.
“The fewer people you hurt, the less protection you’ll need,” Yael said.
The witch’s laugh barked out of her, rougher than gravel. “Look at that. You put on a human body like it’s a ballgown, well, I guess on you it’s more like a tracksuit, and you think you understand everything about what it means to be human. You know nothing.”
“I know enough.” Yael took another step back.
The witch spat to one side and advanced, but Yael was no longer afraid. “What happens when that body wears out and dies? You won’t go back, you know, not without the right spells to put you there. You’ll be lost in the void. If you come back with me—”
“No.”
“You’ll regret it,” the witch said, “if you’re capable of such a thing.”
“Yael!”
Both Yael and the witch turned in the direction of the voice. Hadassah strode toward them, her expression grim and determined. She put herself between the two of them, and the witch looked back and forth from her to Yael.
“I’m leaving. You don’t have to do anything.” The witch held up her hands as she backed away, but the smug grin never left her expression.
Hadassah lifted her chin in the witch’s direction. “Good. Don’t come back around here. You’re banned from Sanctuary, by the way. I hope it was worth it.”
“You’re the one who should be wondering if it’s worth it.” The witch gestured at Yael.
Yael shook her head. Tired, now. Her heartbeat had finally started to slow, but the surge of her terror and anger had left her trembling, feeling weak. She didn’t even have the voice to reply, which clearly agitated the witch, who wanted an answer.
; She muttered a few words under her breath and pulled a small pouch from her pocket. She pinched something out of it onto her palm and blew it in Hadassah’s direction. Yael caught a hint of lavender, a tinge of rosemary. Something that had been tangled up tight inside her released. She let out a small, strange sigh.
“She’s your responsibility now. I hope you’re ready for it,” the witch said.
Hadassah took Yael’s hand. Their fingers linked. She squeezed, her palm warm against Yael’s.
“That’s none of your business. Why don’t you leave, now? Before you make even more of a fool of yourself,” Hadassah said.
The witch’s lip curled, and she tucked the pouch back into her pocket. She gave Yael another long, lingering look. Her sneer turned into a frown, her lips trembling. She opened her mouth as though to speak but said nothing. Instead, she turned on her heel and stalked away. By the time she rounded the corner and went out of sight, Hadassah had pulled Yael closer, hip to hip, and then turned her so they faced each other.
“Are you all right, Yael?”
Yael kissed her. It was the only action she could think to take, a sign of gratitude. Of desire. She’d meant it to be brief, but it grew quickly, until Hadassah pulled away with a small gasp. Her gaze searched Yael’s.
“Take me home,” Yael said. “Please.”
Chapter Twelve
It was all moving too fast, there were so many questions to be answered, but Hadassah was making her choices. One after the other. She took Yael home. She took her into the bedroom. She kissed her.
They tore off their clothes.
In bed, Yael devoured her with kisses, her hands roaming over Hadassah’s body. She buried her face between Hadassah’s thighs, drawing in breath after breath, kissing her thighs. Belly. Hips. Breasts.
Slow down, Hadassah thought, but could not bring herself to say aloud. Instead, she arched into Yael’s embrace, letting the pleasure wash over her. When Yale shifted, so did Hadassah, to take her turn at lingering over the curves and lines of Yael’s body. She trailed her tongue over Yael’s small, perfect breasts, making sure to spend some time on each nipple until Yael writhed and gasped.
Mouth to mouth, Hadassah and Yael moved in sync. Their bodies aligned, thighs pressed to hot, wet flesh as they ground together. Hadassah had never been able to finish this way, usually needing fingers or a tongue, some more direct pressure, but today every touch, every movement seemed like…more. All of this was more. Her orgasm rose inside her fast and faster, until all she could do was let it rip through her like lightning.
Panting, Hadassah cried out Yael’s name. Beneath her, Yael was shaking with her own climax. They kissed again, taking in each other’s taste while both of them came.
A few seconds later, Hadassah, still breathing hard, fell back onto the bed with her head next to Yael’s. They hadn’t even made it all the way to the pillows, but she couldn’t muster the energy now to shift. Sweat cooled on her skin, and she shivered from that or from what had just happened, she couldn’t be sure.
“Wow,” was all she managed to say.
Yael rolled to bury her face against Hadassah’s neck, one arm going over her body. Hadassah turned her face to kiss the top of her head. Her hair was damp and smelled faintly of shampoo.
“Thank you,” Yael whispered.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
Yael pushed up on her elbow to look down at Hadassah. “Yes. I do. You came after me. You defended me…again. You’ve taken care of me. It’s more than anyone else has ever done for me.”
Hadassah let her fingertips trace the line of Yael’s eyebrow. Down her cheek, her jaw, and finally to tap her lips lightly. “Hush.”
“Why?”
“Because I just came hard enough to take my breath away,” Hadassah said with a small laugh to cover up her lie. “And I don’t have the energy for anything else right now.”
Yael shook her head. “No. Not that. I mean…why did you come after me? Why stand up for me?”
She sounded sincere. Serious. And sad, Hadassah thought, or maybe she was the one who felt sad that Yael would even have to ask why anyone would be kind to her.
“I care about you, Yael.”
Yael pulled away, rolling onto her back. There was a scant bit of distance between them, not enough even to take away the warmth of her skin, but still a withdrawal. Hadassah placed a hand on Yael’s belly, just below her breasts.
“You wouldn’t, if you knew more about me.”
Hadassah traced one of her ribs. “Try me.”
“I’m not like you.”
“I know that you’re not a hemomancer, if that’s what you mean. You’re not a witch either.” Hadassah paused and then traced another rib. Yael’s skin goose-pimpled beneath her touch, and her nipples peaked too. “Not a vampire, not a shifter, not a were.”
“No. None of those things.”
“What did she do to you?”
When Yael didn’t answer, Hadassah’s hand slid lower, over the softness of Yael’s belly. Between her legs, where her fingers sought the sensitive flesh of Yael’s clit. She circled lightly, listening for Yael’s intake of breath. Waited for the tensing of her body. She let her touch drift lower, over the petals of her labia, and then, only then, did she dip a finger just inside.
She kissed Yael’s shoulder. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
Hadassah nuzzled Yael’s warm, tan skin. She let her tongue slide out to taste her, the salt of exertion. Her natural flavor. Between Yael’s legs, Hadassah’s fingers slipped a bit deeper, earning her a low gasp.
“I’m afraid…that you will be afraid,” Yael whispered.
Chapter Thirteen
“Of you? How could I be?” Hadassah’s voice dropped to a whisper.
Her lips tickled Yael’s neck. They lay in Hadassah’s bed with its clean white sheets, the soft pillows, the lightweight but warm comforter. This was what it meant to be safe, Yael thought. This was what it meant to be happy.
Fresh need swelled inside her, and she rolled on top of Hadassah to slide her leg in between her lover’s thighs. Groin to groin, their bodies ground together. Yael dipped her head to mouth her way along Hadassah’s jawline. Lower, over her breasts. She found one tight nipple and drew it into her mouth, suckling. Her mouth found Hadassah’s, and Yael let the slide of her tongue open her lover’s lips. She kissed her harder. Deeper.
Hadassah let out a low, greedy moan. She opened her legs wider. Her hips rolled. Yael drank in that glorious response.
“I want to taste you,” she said, and before Hadassah had time to reply, Yael moved down her body to center herself at the juncture of her lover’s thighs.
It was her turn to be greedy, now, using her lips and tongue to lap at the sweet honey trickling from Hadassah’s warm, slick flesh. Yael parted Hadassah’s folds with her thumbs, opening her to find that erect and throbbing pleasure spot. She used the flat of her tongue to stroke Hadassah’s clit, over and over, and in seconds Hadassah was thrusting upward. She panted out Yael’s name, and her fingers sought to tangle in Yael’s hair.
Yael eased off at the last moment, blowing a gust of hot breath over Hadassah’s swollen, glistening pussy. She slipped a finger inside that tight cavern. Then another. Slowly, she curled them upward, seeking the small and slightly rougher patch that would have Hadassah screaming.
“Yael!”
Hadassah’s back arched. Her fingers dug deep into the bedsheets. She cried out, fierce and low. Her body tensed, released, tensed again. Her pussy contracted around Yael’s fingers and bore down, gripping. Pulsing.
Before she calmed, Yael moved up Hadassah’s body to kiss her mouth again. Her pussy, not quite as wet as Hadassah’s but slick and slippery on its own, moved without friction against Hadassah’s wetness. Yael’s climax had been building inside her since the first sweet glide of their tongues against each other. Making Hadassah come had pushed her closer to the edge—but she needed a little more. Just a little bit.
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br /> Hadassah pushed a hand between them. The kiss broke; Hadassah stared without blinking into Yael’s eyes. Her fingers found Yael’s clit and worked it. Rough and fast and without mercy, just the way Yael craved it. She kissed her just as hard, too, so that the tang of blood filled Yael’s mouth. She swallowed it and the flavor of Hadassah’s breath, and she let her body give up to this pleasure she was helpless to deny.
Yael cried out Hadassah’s name, at the end, and collapsed beside her. Face down on the bed, her eyes shielded in darkness, all she had to do was let herself breathe.
Breathe.
She didn’t move when she heard the soft pad of Hadassah’s bare feet on the bedroom floor, nor when she heard them return. The bed dipped. Hadassah placed a cool hand on the small of Yael’s bare back. Yael sighed.
Yael sat. She knew she’d disappointed this woman in the past with her lack of enthusiasm for this…whatever this was that they were doing. She knew it was a combination of her inability to fully utilize this human body’s emotional range and the fact that she was trying her best not to draw Hadassah into anything that might endanger her. Yet in the aftermath of yet one more amazing lovemaking session, this honesty rose simply and easily to her lips as though the words were an incantation. It was a kind of magic, Yael thought. What they were doing.
Yael allowed her body to loll comfortably on Hadassah’s bed. The softness cradled her. She let her limbs grow heavy. Then, her eyelids. She would sleep here, in this nest of comfort, next to the woman she—she…what?
The witch had spoken often of “love.” What she had done for it. What she would do for it. How she could not live without it. The witch had claimed she loved Yael and had demanded the same in return, but Yael had never been able to understand what, exactly, “to love” meant.
What the witch wanted had not been anything like this.
Beside her, Hadassah stirred in her sleep. She curled onto her side, facing away from Yael, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. Yael could not stop herself from caressing the slope of Hadassah’s shoulder. Her ribs. The curving valley just below her hip and that gentle swell. She moved up close, pressing herself to Hadassah’s back. She breathed in the glorious scent of Hadassah’s hair. Pressed her lips to the back of Hadassah’s neck. Her hand slipped up and around to cup one firm, full breast.
Love, Blood, and Sanctuary Page 16