Dearest Ivie

by J. R. Ward

  "I want an invitation to tomorrow night. That will make up for everything."

  Ivie took a deep breath. "Ah, do you want to come in? We can do this out in the hall, but maybe--"

  He answered that one by stepping around her and entering her apartment. While she shut them in, he went over and sat on the sofa.

  Leaning back against the door, she murmured, "You look tired."

  Silas rubbed his head and then his face. With a curse, he sank back into the cushions. "Preparations."

  "Are you packing up your whole house here? I mean, taking everything with you?"

  He closed his eyes. "It's more getting my affairs in order. I won't actually be taking much with me."

  The yawn he cranked out was so wide, his jaw cracked, and then his chest rose and fell again.

  "Tomorrow night," he murmured, "I would love to go. It's up to you."

  She tried to imagine him in the noisy cacophony of her parents' house with her family. Plus Rubes would be there, and that female was going to have a field day with all kinds of romantic notions and Lifetime movies spinning in her head.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, Ivie cleared her throat. "They might ask you things you don't want to answer."

  He tilted his head toward her and opened his eyes. "Like what my intentions are with you?"

  "Maybe. Yes."

  "With you, I don't have intentions."

  "Well, obviously because you're moving--"

  "It's too late for intentions." He smiled a little. "You're in my life. You're in my heart. And if you want me to keep that to myself, I will. Happy to. I can understand why you won't want to get pelted with questions after I'm gone."

  Ivie tilted her head to one side. "How is it that you always know the right thing to say?"

  "Only with you, dearest Ivie. Only with you."

  "Seriously, you look beat. You're welcome to stay here for the day. I mean, I know it's not as fancy or safe as your house no doubt is, but it's warm and dark." She laughed. "Now there's a Travelocity advertisement, huh?"

  "I have to go."

  "Did you drive?"

  "If you don't want to me to be with your family, I understand."

  Moving off the door, she went over and kneeled down in front of him. "I would love it. I would really like you to come with me."

  Even though he didn't lift his head, his smile was as wide as the great outdoors, his fangs flashing, his cheeks stretching wide. "That's good. That's...great."

  "They can be a lot to handle. I'm just saying."

  "I'm tough enough. I can take it."

  Easing herself between his legs, she leaned up against his body. "Can I suggest something?"

  "What did you have in mind?" He brushed a strand of her hair back. "And does it involve this couch? Because last night, I think we put it to very good use."

  "Would you like to take my vein?"

  He recoiled even though his head had nowhere to go. And the shock on his face made her feel chagrined.

  She put her hands up defensively. "Yes, I know I'm not an aristocrat so my blood isn't as pure as what you're used to--"

  "Don't say that," he said with a frown. "Jesus, don't say that ever."

  "Well, you look a little shocked."

  "It's just..."

  When he didn't finish the thought, she eased back so she was kneeling. "I didn't mean to make things awkward. But that does seem to be my theme for tonight. Maybe I should have checked my horoscope. It probably says something like, Keep your mouth shut."

  Silas sat forward and took her face in his hands, in that way he did. "You would do that for me?"

  "Of course. I mean...well, you look like you could use it. When was the last time you fed?"

  He answered the question by virtue of his scent, that spice of his flaring, his eyes going to her wrist, which was bare.

  Instantly, she was hot all over.

  "Not there," she said huskily. "Here."

  Moving her dark hair to the side, she stroked her jugular. "I want you here. At my throat."

  His chest started to pump up and down, and a growl permeated the silence of her apartment. "Are you sure?"

  "Oh, yes."

  To punctuate the point, she took off the top half of her scrubs, the stiff cotton going up and over her head with ease. As his eyes went to her bra, she arched forward and reached back between her shoulder blades, freeing the fastening--

  She didn't get any further than that.

  With hands that were rough, Silas grabbed on to her and all but threw her on her back on the couch. And then he was on top of her, pressing her down into the cushions, his pale eyes volcanic, his body strung like a steel cable, his fangs elongating.

  In a voice that was deliciously demanding, he said, "Even if I can't stop?"

  He wasn't talking about taking too much from her vein. No, as he rolled his hips so she could feel his arousal, she knew damn well he meant sex.

  "I don't want you to stop."

  "There isn't a lot of time. I have things I have to do at home. I won't be able to stay afterward--"

  "Shut up and get into me."

  He didn't require any more urging than that. With a tremendous hiss, he bared his canines and bit her neck hard, the pain lancing through her body and translating into pure pleasure by the time it reached her core.

  "Oh, Silas," she groaned as she craned her back to give him more room.

  With eyes that were half open, she looked past his shoulder to the ceiling above, her focal point shifting up and down as he took deep swallows while riding her with his sex through their clothes. Too many layers between them, too many damn pants--but there was no stopping the sucking. He was so hungry, so possessive, that the pulls against her vein brought her to the edge of orgasm, the not-quite almost more pleasurable than the release itself.

  He still had his coat on, and that fine wool was all texture against her hyper-sensitive nipples, the hard ridge at his hips pushing into her core and then retreating until she was going to lose her mind, his scent a roar in her nose.

  "I need you," she barked. "I need you in me--now."

  Somehow he heard her, or maybe he had reached the same desperation she had--either way, he retracted his hips and moved one of his hands between them, yanking at the tie on the waistband of her scrubs as she helped by pulling them down and kicking them free along with her panties.

  And then he was jerking at the fine leather belt he wore. She took over, pushing his hand out of the way as she freed the buckle, the button, the zipper.

  The length of him was hard and hot and long in her hands.

  And the sound he made turned her body into a tuning fork, the bass vibrating through her.

  She was too impatient for the feel of him inside of her to do much exploring, and as soon as his head was at the heart of her, she pushed her pelvis forward so he sank in deep.

  Her orgasm came on fast and hard, the culmination not just of what they were doing now, but of the kissing the night before, and all the fantasies she'd had...hell, it went all the way back to that moment right before they had locked eyes, when she had sensed nothing was ever going to be the same again.

  In the midst of the rhythmic pulses, she felt a hard hand grip behind her knee and pull up, her sex opening further. And then he was moving in her, pumping with thrusts that sent the top of her head into the armrest, a creaking noise rising up from the sofa's supports, the banging sound probably the windowsill taking a beating. Or maybe the wall. Who cared.

  Gone was the aristocrat with the nice manners and the polite words, the arching accent and the expensive clothes. Silas was utterly dominant as he took everything she had and demanded more, his pace rough and powerful, a male's lust unleashed without restraint.

  And she just wanted more.

  As if he read her mind, he hooked his forearm where his palm had been, cranking her even tighter under his heavy weight, his hips pounding into her, the lower half of his body swinging freely--


  Until he locked against her with a punch of his thighs, his erection emptying into her as he continued to suck at her throat.

  All she could do was hang on to his shoulders.

  And pray he never, ever stopped.

  Sure it would kill her, but what a way to go.

  * * *

  --

  The feel of Silas's tongue lapping at the puncture wounds he'd made in her neck was erotic as hell--not that there was a damn thing either of them could do to follow through on that. He was collapsed on top of her, his sex still buried inside her core, his body a wonderfully limp blanket. Beneath him, she was floating on a blissful satiation even as she was grounded by his weight.

  "I hate that I have to leave," he said into her hair. "I'd rather stay here."

  "Me, too." She stroked his back. "But we have tomorrow night to look forward to."

  He lifted his head. "Amen to that. What time do you want me to pick you up?"

  "It might be easier with the snow to dematerialize? Plus now that you have my blood in you, you can track me."

  "I'd love to drive, if you don't mind? I have a Range Rover that will go through an avalanche."

  "Plus more time together." She smiled up at him. "Not a bad thing."

  "Big back seat, too. You know, if on the ride home I'm unable to contain myself."

  "Please don't fight the feeling."

  He played with a strand of her hair, wrapping it in and around his fingers. "You can just introduce me as your friend."

  "Is that what you'd like me to do?"

  "I just don't want you to get pressured."

  "I think I'll stick to Silas, how about that?"

  "What's the dress code?"

  "A band shirt from the eighties, ripped blue jeans, and three nights of beard growth for the males. Females will be in a combination of Forever 21, handmade gingham housecoats, and Macy's separates if they're fancy. Food will be Cheez Whiz, hot dishes, and bags of such exotic fare as sour-cream-and-onion potato chips, Fritos, and Pringles."

  He smiled. "I've had Fritos before."

  "With clam dip?"

  "Huh?"

  "My mother's clam dip is amazing with them."

  "I'm really looking forward to this."

  "And listen, if you want to leave at any time, you're free to go. I can always get myself home. As my dad always says, taking care of myself is my one job."

  "I can't wait to meet him."

  For a moment, Ivie fell quiet as she wondered how in the hell that was going to go. But then she recalibrated things with the reality that it was not a war zone they were going into. It would be loud and packed and raucous, and her dad was going to be a little protective, but no one was going to lose a limb.

  Hopefully.

  "I'll stay for however long they'll have me."

  She frowned as she looked into those pale eyes of his. "Thank you."

  "For what?"

  "Coming with me."

  "If I could, I would go lots of places with you." His smile was slow. "Many, many places."

  "You know, I could come to visit you. We could travel or--" As he glanced away, she sighed. "Or not. It's okay. Hey, we'll enjoy what we have."

  "Yes. Yes, we will."

  When he refocused on her, he brushed his mouth to her lips and whispered in the Old Language, "Thank you for the gift of your vein. I am honored and grateful."

  His diction was beautiful, with the aristocracy's drawling vowels and rhythmic consonants.

  "It was my pleasure. Trust me."

  He kissed her a little more and then he was easing up off of her, his belt digging into her side, his retreat from her sex a cold vacancy. With an elegant move, he pulled the throw blanket off the back of the sofa and spread it over her.

  Silas didn't immediately get to his feet and hit the door. He just sat there, stroking her leg, looking like the last thing he wanted to do was get in a cold car and drive himself across town to wherever he lived.

  "We've done Italian and English," he murmured.

  "Tomorrow night, we do Hannaford."

  He chuckled. "I was not aware that was a country."

  "It is. It's small, but very orderly, and relatively inexpensive to visit as long as you have your Hannaford card with you."

  "After that...I want to take you to a French restaurant. And then a Greek one. A Russian one. We have to do Korean, Vietnamese, Chinese, and Japanese. Mmm...I like that smile on your face."

  As he kissed her quick, she murmured, "And I like the idea of having many places to go with you."

  It was a panacea to the reality that they were running out of time.

  Chapter Seven

  "It's up there." Ivie leaned into the dashboard. "See the hill?"

  The windshield wipers swept left, and through the falling snow, the lights of her parents' little house seemed like a spaceship coming down for a landing, hovering above the snow-covered rise.

  "I certainly do." Silas smiled. "Good thing we took the Range Rover."

  In the back of her mind, Ivie thought it was bizarre that she was dating someone who had a choice between this tank-like, blacked-out SUV and a Bentley. Then again, she never would have expected to be with someone as good-looking as he was.

  Which was not to say she thought of herself as unattractive. But...dayum.

  She just would have put him with a blond bimbo with life-raft boobs and thousand-dollar stilettos.

  Glancing over, she studied that profile of his. Tonight, he was back in the black lamb's wool coat with a red cashmere sweater on and those gray slacks. The button-down underneath was of a white so blinding, the collar popping out of the crew neck was enough to make her retinas have to adjust.

  "Can I ask you something?" she said. "This isn't the time for it, but--"

  "Anything." He reached across and took her hand. "I'm an open book for you."

  For a moment, she lost track, reflecting on the nice color in his cheeks and the energy he seemed to be bubbling over with. She didn't want to be arrogant, but she had a feeling it was the feeding from the night before. No doubt, he had gotten so wrapped up in wrapping things up that he hadn't taken care of himself for a while. Not unusual.

  "Ivie?"

  "Sorry." She shook herself. "Do you have any other kinds of clothes? I mean, I know that this stunningly handsome sweater-and-slacks combo is fresh every time I see you. So you must have multiples of it. But have you ever met a set of tracky bottoms? Or maybe a sweatshirt?"

  He laughed. "I am a uniform kind of guy. I'm comfortable in this rig, I don't have to waste time wondering if something goes together and it beats the other option."

  "Tuxedo? Silk PJs?"

  "I sleep naked."

  A bloom of heat made her fidget in her seat. "Do you now. And when are you spending the day with me so I can experience this in person?"

  He frowned and took a deep breath. "God, I would love that."

  "Then let's make it happen--oh, the driveway is here!" She braced herself against the console as he hit the brakes. "Sorry! I should have warned you."

  "Not a problem. That's what they make snow tires for."

  The Range Rover mounted the hill like a well-shod plow horse, chugging up the incline, undeterred by the ruts in the snow and the patches of ice. As they gained a little altitude, Ivie cranked herself around and looked at the valley below. The farm country was sparsely populated, the houses separated by quarters and halves of miles, the fields in between delineated by stone walls and lines of trees that had been in place for generations.

  "I love it out here," she whispered. "I'm happy to live in the city, but my heart is where the corn grows and the cows are."

  "Will you ever move back?"

  "Maybe. I have some fantasy that I'm going to buy a plot of land, like in the next valley, and be close but not too close, if you know what I mean."

  "Whether you dematerialize from here or in town, it doesn't matter. And you would be safer in a house with a ba
sement and an underground tunnel to another shelter."

  "You sound like my father."

  "I admire the male's sound thinking already."

  They pulled up to the front of the ranch, and through the windows, the people milling around and laughing and eating and drinking were everything she loved about her family.

  "Shall we?" he said.

  "You ready for this?"

  He leaned across and pulled her in for a kiss. "And willing. But that second part can come later in the night."

  Ivie smiled against his mouth. "We leave right after dessert."

  "Don't take this the wrong way, I mean absolutely no disrespect to your family--"

  "I'm counting the minutes, too."

  After another quick peck, they both opened their doors, and given the way Silas hustled around to offer her his arm, she knew he would have preferred she wait and let him be a gentlemale. Yet he didn't seem bothered.

  There was no formal walkway, just a crushed trail in the snow that led to the cinder-block step up. The door was aluminum made to look like wood, as was the gray and white siding and the red shutters. The roof was asphalt not slate, and there were no chimneys.

  The instant she opened the way in, a blast of hot air and conversation burst out into the wintry night.

  "Ivie!"

  "Hey, girl--"

  "You're late--why did you drive--"

  All of the greetings came to a halt as she walked in...and Silas followed.

  In the shallow living room, her fifteen nearest and dearest relatives froze in mid-drink, mid-eat, mid-hello, mid-bitch, the lot of them transfixed by the elegant male who carefully closed them all in together.

  Which was, she supposed, kind of like screwing the lid on a Diet Coke two-liter. After you put the Mentos in.

  "I'm actually a vacuum salesman." Silas put a hand on her shoulder. "But no worries, dearest Ivie has made me swear not to start preaching about suction, rolling balls, or wand attachments. Haven't you, darling. And evidently the bag-versus-canister debate is off-limit. She's rather strict with these things."

  There was a heartbeat of silence. And then her family started laughing.

  "Everyone," she said with a grin, "this is Silas. Silas...meet everybody."

  * * *

  --

  Silas met her mother, both her grandmothers, two aunts, an uncle on her father's side, and the composite nieces, nephews, and grand-nieces and -nephews, and cousins one by one. And with each introduction, he looked her family member in the eye, shook hands, accepted hugs, smiled, joked, was serious when necessary, and was absolutely frickin' perfect.