“You’d run,” he said, lips moving against her skin, “if you knew the things I’ve done.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“Are you sure?”
“N-no.”
“I am. I know you would. It’s all right, though. I find your fear exciting.”
Dawn had only ever had sex with a guy under the most straightforward of circumstances. This was something else altogether, and she wasn’t entirely prepared for it. But she was in it, and she wasn’t turning back. Tristan was trying to trap her, but he wouldn’t succeed.
“You don’t have the power to hurt me,” she said clearly, just in case he didn’t realize it.
“I’m so much stronger than you know. You have no idea the things I could do to you,” he said softly, barely moving his lips as he spoke. “It wouldn’t take any effort at all to hurt you. Or kill you.”
It seemed he was deliberately trying to frighten her, so she didn’t flinch at his words. If anything, she felt compelled to rise to a challenge.
“You won’t kill me,” she said.
One side of his mouth lifted. “You’re right. I can think of several things I’d rather do instead.”
She put a shaking hand lightly on his chest. “Show me.”
His mouth met hers in a wild, crushing kiss, wet and hungry. He was not her captor, just a man whose cold hands snaked up beneath her shirt, tightening on her waist when she caught his lower lip between her teeth. It felt astonishingly good to have him touch her this way. She didn’t even have to pretend to like it. In his arms it was hard to hold on to uncertainty and fear. It was hard not to come undone.
He worked her soaked shirt all the way off and stood still as she did the same for him. Her chilled skin prickled. They broke apart just long enough to shuck off their shoes and then he reached for her again, grabbing her ass and grinding his hips against hers. She gasped and leaned her head back as he sucked at her neck. He seemed desperate, touching and tasting her, breathing her, burying himself in her. She responded to him with everything he gave her, and they fed off each other’s escalating pleasure.
The back of Dawn’s knees bumped up against the mattress. They’d made their way toward the bed without her realizing it. One or two rational thoughts returned sluggishly to her brain. She wriggled out of Tristan’s arms and turned so he was the one next to the bed. She pushed him down on it and climbed over him. He’d taken too much control and she wouldn’t let him have it all.
Slowly she rocked her hips against his erection, eliciting a groan from him. She stifled her own urge to make pleasured sounds. He looked gorgeous stretched out beneath her, his hands rubbing along her jean-clad thighs. She allowed herself to revel in the fact that she’d made him vulnerable, just for a second.
“Do you want more?” she asked.
He opened his black-star eyes and blinked at her through a haze of pleasure. “Of course I do. Do you?”
She nodded and before she knew it, he’d flipped on top of her and was undoing her jeans. She squirmed to feel the coldness of his hands on the sensitive skin of her thighs. He rubbed a gentle thumb on her clitoris, making her writhe and gasp unevenly. She came almost instantly, which had never happened in her life, not even when she took care of herself.
“Oh god,” she said breathlessly, forgetting herself.
With a lazy smile, he backed off to remove his jeans and she lay there watching him, mindlessly running her hands up and down her torso. She could feel his eyes on her, his need for her a physical thing that exhilarated her. He produced a condom from somewhere and let the wrapper fall to the floor as he rolled it on.
“I guess you just carry those around wherever you go,” she said.
“You never know when you might need one.”
“Obviously.”
He kissed her deeply when he climbed on top of her. “You’re mine,” he said in a ragged whisper.
“No, I’m not,” she panted in reply. She was out of her mind. He could have crushed her. He could have devoured her. She wanted him like nothing else.
He took hold of her hips and pulled her down a few inches. He bent her knees and pushed them apart, all the way down to the mattress. She cried out as he slid himself into her. He adjusted his angle and suddenly she was clawing at the sheets, her body arching up to meet each sundering thrust. They couldn’t get close enough.
“Harder,” she said, breathless.
Tightening his grip on her, he did as she asked. The expression on his face seemed urgent, brimming with hopeful abandon, as if he’d long been looking for something and thought he might have found it at last in her. There was wildness and hunger in him, things Dawn had never known with Zach. She was on fire, eyelids fluttering, muscles tight.
He leaned over her, heat trapped between them, whispering her name in disbelieving tones. She clutched him to her as he finished off in slow, rolling motions. Then his hips were still, his body weighing down comfortably on hers. They lay silently for a moment, just breathing.
All too soon, the shameful enormity of what she’d done started to drag Dawn down from a blissful afterglow.
Tristan’s pupils were huge when he lifted his head to look at her. He blinked and pushed the little damp hairs back from her forehead.
“You were cold before,” she said, placing a hand on his smooth chest. “You’ve gotten warmer.”
“Mm.” He dipped his face to her collarbone and nuzzled her lightly. “That’ll happen. What’s that smell?”
“What? Oh. Nag champa.”
An appreciative groan sounded. “I like it.”
“Great.” She shoved at him, suddenly upset. “Now get off me.”
He rolled off compliantly, smiling to himself. He stretched and let out a contented sigh. “I really do have shit to do today.”
She pulled on her clothes without looking at him. She’d successfully seduced him, or maybe he’d seduced her. Either way, she couldn’t just go around making demands like she held all the power now, like he would just suddenly roll over to her whims. She had to play the game with caution and precision, even if she only pretended to know what to do.
“Could you take me with you?” she asked shyly, turning to look at him.
“You don’t need to come with me.” He swung off the bed and reached for his jeans.
“But … I want to.”
Tristan’s eyes came to rest on her, unfathomable. The affectionate persona he’d assumed was gone. “Don’t tell me you have feelings for me already.”
Dawn’s eyes flared. “I didn’t say anything about feelings. I just don’t want to be cooped up in this stupid room anymore, tied to the fucking headboard.”
His eyes narrowed. “Tell me, Dawn. What’s the worst thing you’ve done? Break your boyfriend’s heart? Pretend to be someone else in order to fit in with people? Maybe you stole a candy bar when you were a kid and never told anyone, because you knew they’d make you fork over fifty cents for it.”
“Maybe I’ve done worse.”
“No, you haven’t. Believe me.”
“You don’t know me,” she said quietly.
“You’re right. I don’t. And you don’t know me either. You can’t even begin to fucking imagine me.” He pulled his shirt on angrily.
There hadn’t been a moment where she really thought she knew him, not even a little. And yet she’d felt a strange sort of intimacy just by being in his arms, knowing there were secrets and not even caring. It was a dangerous feeling, she knew. It would work against her if she weren’t careful, and this day would come back to haunt her and she’d be sorry for the mistake of letting down her guard. Maybe she already was.
“You can come with me,” he said, all the heat gone from his voice. “If you must.”
He drove them somewhere along the outskirts of town, where boxlike houses lined quiet streets. It wasn’t raining anymore, but lilac-gray clouds still covered the sky. Tristan parked on the gravel shoulder in front of a church tucked into a copse of trees in t
he midst of the hushed neighborhood. It was white and plain, but pretty, with no sign to indicate the denomination.
“If we drove all this way just to pray, I’m going to be pretty upset,” Dawn said.
The hint of a wry grin crept onto his lips. “Very funny.”
The wooden doors were unlocked and Dawn followed Tristan inside. Although the narrow windows on either side of them let in some afternoon light, a pair of thin tapers in golden candleholders burned on the altar steps. A boy knelt reverently between them, his head bowed low between his shoulders, and he didn’t stir at their entrance. Tristan slid into the nearest pew, smooth and polished with use. Dawn sat next to him and they waited in silence.
After several minutes the boy stood and waited for them at the base of the altar steps, apparently having been aware of their presence all along. He wasn’t tall, just barely missing six feet, but his slender frame had a muscular grace. He was maybe nineteen, beautiful in a striking, androgynous way. His skin was smooth and pale as candle wax. His neatly combed hair was the whitest shade of blond, his eyebrows and lashes dark as soot in contrast. His eyes were brilliantly aqua, like tropical seas.
With such features, he should have looked like an angel. Dawn thought so, anyway. But a clear, cold hardness in his visage destroyed any inkling of innocence.
Bad angel, she thought as she and Tristan rose.
The boy’s eyes shifted to her and goosebumps rose on her skin. His gaze went right through her, beyond her, as if even looking at her wasn’t worth his time. This air of superiority made her hate him instantly.
“Who is she?” he asked quietly. “You’re still playing with toys like children?”
“No one,” Tristan answered as they came to a stop before him.
Dawn bristled. She took a subtle step away from him. He didn’t seem to care.
The boy’s eyes slid back to Tristan. “What do you want?”
“Loftus needs you, Fallon.”
Fallon blinked haughtily. “I am not available to his whims.”
Tristan lifted his eyebrows in amusement. “Yes, you are.”
“He cannot control me the way he controls all of you.”
Tristan’s jaw hardened and his brows shot back down. “Fuck off, Fallon. He’s found the prima materia.”
Though Dawn had no idea what a prima materia was, Fallon looked interested for the first time since they’d arrived, though only slightly. “We can continue talking about this in private.”
“No. That’s not possible.”
“I’m not going to run,” Dawn snapped.
“Somehow I don’t believe you.”
She smiled innocently. “Who would tell a lie inside a church?”
He returned the smile, only his was far less innocent. “Someone who doesn’t believe in God.”
Fallon looked piercingly at Dawn. His beauty hurt like a knife. “This place makes him squeamish,” he said.
Dawn snorted lightly. “Me, too.”
She spun away from the two of them and sat herself in the front pew. Ignoring Tristan’s calculating glare, she picked up the blue leather hymnal from the bench beside her and flipped through the tissue-thin pages. She remembered the high, clear sound of her mother’s singing voice on the rare occasions they’d been to church. Dawn had always thought traditional hymns beautiful and haunting, though she felt no passion for any religion or god.
Flipping another few fragile pages, she glanced up. Tristan and Fallon argued in hushed tones at the altar. Maybe she could run again. Maybe not. It seemed they were too absorbed in each other to notice her, but she couldn’t be sure. Putting the hymnal down, she stood up and moved into the aisle. Neither of them said a word.
Carrying the experiment further, she meandered up the aisle toward the doors. Surprisingly, one of them was already standing open.
“God damn it, Dawn!” Tristan roared.
Come get me. She slipped outside, blinking in the cloud-filtered sunlight, and ran few steps before colliding into a man’s chest.
“Well,” the man said. “This is not entirely unexpected.”
When her eyes adjusted, she was looking at a familiar man with shoulder-length black hair and a shadowy face. His eyebrows were heavy over eyes like dark green moldavite. Branek. Dawn’s stomach flipped over with fear. She started to turn back to the church but he was on her in an instant, one hand firm over her mouth.
“I didn’t want to do this,” he whispered in deep tones. “Much. But, god, sometimes I just can’t help myself.”
She struggled, but he kept his hold on her as he wrestled her away from the door. At the corner of the building he paused to glance around and she managed to break free. Like an idiot she ran blindly, her feet slapping the concrete in clumsy haste.
Branek caught up with her easily and dragged her down into a row of juniper bushes. His weight crushed her to the dirt. She shoved at him but he didn’t budge.
“This won’t take long,” he promised, opening his mouth wide to reveal the sharp fangs of an animal.
Dawn screamed. The sharp scent of juniper stoked her fear. She thrashed her body wildly and got a knee up between his legs. He rolled off her with a groan.
“Damn it!” he wailed, clutching himself. It would have been comical if he hadn’t just tried to maul her.
Strangely, her first instinct was to run back to Tristan rather than for help. But he was already behind her.
Branek grinned without getting up, fangs sharp and deadly. “Hello,” he said pleasantly.
“I thought I told you to leave me alone. What the fuck are still you doing here?” Tristan asked.
“Just checking things out. Like I do.”
Tristan stood above him in three steps, face tight, eyes blazing in the sun. He looked as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t trust himself to find the right words. One foot twitched back and for a moment Dawn thought he might kick Branek.
But then Branek’s hand shot out and clamped around Tristan’s ankle. He pulled him down and rolled to straddle him. An involuntary scream escaped Dawn’s lips as Branek slammed his fist into Tristan’s face a couple times, blood spurting alarmingly onto the pavement. She pressed her hands to her mouth, eyes filling with hot tears.
“You haven’t been practicing,” Branek said with cheerful hostility. “I shouldn’t have been able to take you by surprise like that!”
Tristan let out an animal growl. “You motherfucker!”
“Hey, next time I won’t be so nice.”
“You never are.”
“You’d better remember it, too.”
Branek got up and sauntered toward Dawn, grinning like an idiot. Still sitting on the ground, Tristan set his nose with a single quick motion and wiped his bloody hands on his jeans. He didn’t seem angry, only annoyed.
“So,” Branek said casually. “You still share these days?”
Suddenly Tristan sprang to his feet, swift and dangerous. “No!” His swinging fist caught Branek in the mouth. Branek’s head snapped to the side and he stumbled. As he righted himself, he came back with a punch that knocked Tristan back off his feet. He let out a barking laugh, his eyes showing white all the way around. Then turned back to Dawn, his split lip leaking blood.
“Don’t touch me,” she said.
“Loyal to him?” Branek chuckled. “That’s a mistake, you stupid girl.” His hand shot out to grab her. He pulled her close so that her back was pressed into his chest, his arms pinning her in an embrace that was far from pleasurable. “It won’t hurt,” he whispered.
He lied. She jolted to feel the sting in the side of her neck. It was shocking how quickly this had happened, so quickly Tristan couldn’t even get to his feet in time to help. Dawn felt a visceral disgust at the pulsing warmth of Branek’s lips on her skin. His body enveloped her, one arm tight about her waist. She lurched away from him, her body sparking with pain, fingertips tingling with it. Then she was face first on the ground and he was crushing her, teeth still lodged in her
throat. She heard distant shouting. She wanted to sleep.
No one will see. No one will come.
Darkness.
… darkness …
She dreamed of a wound so bright and clean, a gaping hole in her middle. It allowed bad things to creep into her, unspeakable things. She lay on her back in a broken bed. If she moved, she would die, and blood would stream from her mouth in a gruesome waterfall. Her breath was carefully shallow.
“Here,” Tristan said softly. “Open up.”
The dream faded. Dawn’s eyelids fluttered heavily and she opened her mouth to drink whatever he offered. It was hot chocolate.
They were back in the room, the lights dimmed. Tristan sat on the edge of the bed beside her. She sat up carefully and touched her neck, fingers seeking the place Branek had bitten. She felt the puncture marks, slightly swollen and closed over with a delicate layer of skin.
“You’re fine,” Tristan said. “Everything’s fine.”
“No. No.” Her voice rose in panicked notes. “What was that? What did he do to me?”
“He attacked you.” Tristan’s expression was carefully neutral. “He’s a vampire. Just like I am.” He gave a toothy grin, revealing a pair of canines that were much too long and sharp. It was astonishing she’d never noticed them. But then, she didn’t think she’d ever seen him really smile.
“Vampire,” Dawn repeated softly. Her voice was doubtful, but she didn’t doubt the truth. It explained the non-human quality about him. Maybe it accounted for his magnetism, too. And that strength he claimed, that ability to crush the life out of her with ease.
Anyway, she’d experienced a vampire firsthand. She couldn’t not believe. Disturbed, she pulled her knees up to her chest and circled her arms around them. This was all too bizarre, too frightening.
“I was twenty-six when I was changed,” he said. “Physically it’s as far as I’ll ever get.”
She swallowed hard. “You said you were dangerous. Poisonous.”
“I am.”
“Then why did you save me? Why do you even care?”
He glanced away and rose to his feet. “Because you belong to me now, that’s why. I told you already. I should have been able to stop him from putting you through that.”
Dreams for the Dead Page 7