“Should I call you Sis from now on?” Xavior asked with a grin.
“Not Dad?” she questioned dryly.
He laughed and shook his head. “Unless my rubber was full of holes—not possible. I’m very careful with my sperm.”
Well, wasn’t that responsible of him. She knew she liked him for a reason. Having him as a brother would be kind of nice.
“Do you think it’s really possible?”
“Never say never when immortality is involved. Rayven and I could have been the first or the hundredth offspring of our sperm donor of a father, so it is entirely possible that he was the sperm donor to your conception as well.”
If only her mother were still alive. Now she would probably never know for sure.
Resting her head on Greyvian’s shoulder, she idly wondered what kind of man—or rather, vampire—her biological father was; if he was anyone to be proud of or just another full-blood rapist. If he had been the latter, her mother had never shown any trauma over it, but perhaps she’d just coped really well with the violation; or, considering Sienna had had no idea her father wasn’t her biological father, really good at hiding it. Or, she supposed it was even possible that the vampire could have impregnated her without ever raising Awareness.
Yeesh. Scary thought.
Sighing at the unanswerable question, she drew in a noseful of Greyvian’s deliciously male scent and suddenly realised that he had allowed her to sit on his lap for the past fifteen minutes without moving her or telling her to get off; something he never would have done before her transition. Sure he seemed a little stiff about it, but it boded well for the future.
Pulling back, she looked into his pale grey eyes and smiled. She wanted to ask him what he was doing for the rest of his life, but that was a conversation better left for a time when they didn’t have nine other vampires eyeballing them and grinning at the fact that she was sitting on his lap.
Ignoring the fact that Greyvian didn’t return her smile, even though she really wanted to see it again, she looked over at their audience and asked, “Are you all just going to sit there watching us? Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“Ouch,” Xavior said, holding his hand to his heart as if she’d wounded him. “We risk our lives by coming to your rescue and you want to kick us out barely minutes after the action is over?”
“Thank you for the help,” she said, meaning it. She then made a face at the male. “But you know that’s not what I meant. There’ll be plenty of time to rehash exactly what happened later. That is—if you’re sticking around?”
With a knowing grin at her and a speculative look in Katarina’s direction, the half-breed then glanced at Knox. “Knox, any objections to us lingering?”
Knox shrugged, seeming not to mind the speculation towards a female he’d more than likely been sleeping with, and said, “Hey, it’s not my mansion. You’d have to ask Grey.”
“Then it’s settled, we’ll stick around.” Xavior grinned his cheeky grin and winked at her as Greyvian remained quiet on the whole subject. “What about you, Marcus? Sebastian? Rafe? You sticking around too?”
“Sure, I’ve got centuries to fill and nowhere else to be,” Marcus replied from where he stood by the door, muscular arms folded across his chest and a wry smile on his face.
“Alas, I do have somewhere else to be,” Rafe replied with a dip of his head in her direction, “but it was very nice meeting you all. Greyvian, always a pleasure.”
With that, he walked past Marcus and disappeared down the hallway.
“I would, but I don’t like company,” Sebastian told them, nodding his head once by way of departure before following after Rafe.
She couldn’t say she was particularly disappointed to see that one go as the word damaged kept reverberating in her head every time she met his eyes, which was as little as possible, but Rafe might have been interesting company.
With a mental shrug, she turned her gaze back to Greyvian and noticed that his pupils were larger than they ought to be for the amount of afternoon light shining in through the large windows. Immediately she felt her focus sharpen and that weird tingle in her mouth that signified her fangs dropping down as desire gripped her.
Glancing over to see if the others had left yet, she found that none of them had moved. Rolling her eyes, she looked at them pointedly, until, with obviously false overly-disappointed pouts, they started to leave the room. Jacob was the last to go, her best friend lingering in the doorway, his eyes dark with some unknown emotion as he looked at her.
No, it wasn’t unknown. Too late, she remembered that ever since tasting her blood, his feelings for her had changed. She couldn’t do anything about the jealousy in his eyes, or the fact that she didn’t feel anything but friendship towards him, but he was still her best friend and hopefully they could work through it.
Smiling sadly, she watched him turn around and walk out the door and was a little surprised that he closed it softly behind himself. Jacob wasn’t normally so contained when he was upset. Perhaps he was learning emotional control from his father?
Turning her face back to the male in question, she looked down at his mouth. So perfect. The fullness of that bottom lip was practically screaming at her to kiss it. Tilting her head, she leaned in to do just that, but found her hair was caught in his hand, the firm grip keeping her where she was.
Meeting his eyes, she raised an eyebrow at his grave expression.
“I’m still a killer,” he said flatly.
Just the fact that he kept telling her over and over that getting involved with him was a bad idea spoke volumes about the kind of male that he was.
“I know,” she said, idly running her fingers over the thick, springy hair at the back of his head, partly to try and distract him and partly because it felt so good to touch him. “But you can’t help it. It’s not like you purposefully go out thinking you want to kill somebody, is it?”
It wasn’t really a question. He answered her anyway, the darkness in his eyes threatening to consume her.
“Sometimes I do.”
Her fingers paused in their stroking as she digested that little bit of honesty, but then resumed as she said, “Jacob told me that you see evil. Personally, I think you’re doing the world a service.”
His mouth flattened into a thin line, his eyes narrowing slightly as he said, “I’m not an avenging Angel, Sienna. Yes, the humans I kill now have done evil, but it wasn’t always that way. I’ve killed thousands of innocents as well.”
“But you’re making up for that, aren’t you?”
His eyes tightened even more, the expression almost one of pain. “Let me guess. Jacob told you about the tattoo?”
She nodded. “Redemption from sins. That’s why you help half-breeds, isn’t it?”
“That’s part of it, yes,” he confirmed.
“Each one you save counts against one you’ve taken?”
“Yes.”
She mulled it over for a moment, her fingers continuing their sensory exploration of Greyvian’s short hair—but without any conscious thought now—and then asked, “What about the evil people you kill? How do they stand?”
If he noticed her fingers in his hair, it didn’t show in his expression as he spoke. “They’re neutral. I’m still taking a life, but then, so do they.”
She cocked her head. “I think they count. For exactly that reason. Every one of those you take out of the human race, you’re probably saving at least five more.”
He shook his head slowly, the resolve in his eyes telling her that he’d thought long and hard as to the specifics of his redemption and that he would not be swayed from his chosen criteria. If that were the case, considering there were only a handful of half-breeds needing help in a decade, he would be in debt to them for the rest of his immortal life.
Meaning that he would most likely never be redeemed.
And that was okay. He’d killed thousands of innocent people. If he’d thought that saving a few ha
lf-breeds from almost certain death would square him to the fact, she would have felt differently, but she could see that he knew the reality of his situation and that just made her love him more.
She loved him. He wasn’t exactly the kind of male she’d imagined herself falling for, but then, she hadn’t seen herself turning into a vampire, either. Life was strange.
“I love you,” she told him, just in case he actually hadn’t heard her the first time she’d whispered it into his neck.
“Why?” he asked, eyebrows heavy over his eyes. “I’m not a happy male, Sienna. Never will be as far as I can see—I have too much baggage for that. I’m cursed and always will be. Nothing is going to change that.”
She shrugged. “I know. I still love you.”
For once he let the emotion he was feeling show on his face—confusion, mostly, and perhaps exasperation.
“Why?” he asked again. “I’m not exactly an easy guy to get to know—I don’t smile, I don’t joke, I feel very little emotion—what do you see in me?”
She smiled. “I like that you’re serious. It’s sexy as hell. And I like the way you look at me, the way you make me feel. And the fact that you think you feel very little emotion when it’s clear to me that you do.”
A corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. “Before you came along, it was true. I went over a century without feeling a thing.”
Her smile turned sly. “You obviously felt a thing twenty-five years ago. How else do you explain Jacob?”
He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. “Ok, sporadically there was a little something.”
She couldn’t help herself—grinning wickedly, she rolled her hips toward his, and said, “I don’t remember it being so little.”
The comment had the desired effect. Greyvian hissed, his fangs immediately lengthening in size, his pupils expanding. Without further discussion, his lips found hers and his arms went around her for the first time since she’d climbed onto his lap, tightening and pulling her against his chest.
Desire swamped her. His lips were the perfect amount of firm, not too hard as to be unyielding and not so soft as to be sloppy, his mouth moving over hers in a natural rhythm, his tongue tasting her in tantalising strokes. She didn’t know when her own fangs had dropped down, but strangely, they didn’t get in the way. It was as if she’d always had them and knew exactly how to turn her head and move her lips and twist her tongue to avoid them causing damage.
Except, then she did exactly that. Her tongue ran over the sharp points and blood immediately began to flow. She expected to taste metal, but it was a completely alien flavour that filled her mouth. A hint of chocolate, a smidge of rum, but mostly something completely unnameable—just as Knox had described her as smelling way back when this had all started.
Her blood tasted pleasant to her tongue, but it must have been heaven to Greyvian, because he groaned suddenly, his arms tightening even more, his mouth pressing harder against hers, his tongue delving into her mouth like a cat lapping at milk. Again and again he tasted her, his mouth sucking at hers, sucking the blood that was flowing freely from her tongue. She didn’t feel any pain, only the intense pleasure of the kiss.
Without warning, Greyvian broke the kiss and went for her neck, his fangs sinking deep in a stab of pleasure-pain that caused a small explosion to go off inside of her body, the desire spiralling out of control in a mind blowing orgasm that defied logic. As he sucked at her neck, his throat working as he skolled her blood like she was a bottle of water to someone dying of thirst, she rode the wave, her hands holding his head to her neck, urging him on.
Too soon he pulled back, his eyes meeting hers in a completely unguarded look of wonder. It was only then that she remembered that he could only drink the blood of humans… and that she was no longer human.
“How?” she asked, just as shocked.
He shook his head in a daze, his eyes returning to her neck. His mouth soon followed. She expected him to drink some more, but he just ran his tongue over her skin, healing the wound instead.
When he raised his head to look at her once again, she had the sudden desire to return the favour. As if he had read her mind, he tilted his head to the side, baring his neck to her.
She didn’t need any further prompting. Eyes on the vein running down the side of his neck, she opened her mouth wide and led with her teeth. As if the points were magnets and his artery a line of metal, they locked perfectly into place and sank easily into his skin to then retract without her even thinking about it, letting in a steady flow that tasted different to when she’d been human. The flavour was stronger now—as if her taste buds were more sensitive to the subtleties of his blood.
It was the best thing she had ever tasted; like a tawny port, but not as strong, with hints and teases of the sweetest desserts that only seemed to get better with every mouthful.
She didn’t want to stop. In the end, couldn’t. It took the thinning out and slackening of the flow of his blood to bring her back to herself.
Raising her head, she looked down at him in new understanding. This is what it was like for him. He truly couldn’t stop himself from killing the humans he fed on. It was only the fact that he was Vampire and couldn’t die from lack of blood that she hadn’t killed him in kind.
It was kind of nice to be able to truly appreciate the lack of self-control.
When she realised that she was looking down at him—because he was lying across the sofa, too weak to keep himself upright—she gasped in horror, her dazed eyes finally focusing on the fact that he looked pale, his skin slack.
Except, he had a smile on his face, like he was the happiest vampire alive. It took her breath away, the horror fading in light of the expression.
“Why are you so happy?” she asked ruefully. “I just drained you dry.”
His eyes focused on hers with apparent difficulty. “Aside from you, when you were human—which was very different to just now—and those full-bloods that I allowed to drain me, I’ve never had anyone but a transitioning half-breed feed from me before. And never with desire. It was…”
He didn’t have to finish. She knew exactly what he meant.
Shaking her head, she bent down and kissed him lightly, gasping when he suddenly rolled them over so that he was on top. The fact that he could move so fast when he probably only had a trace of blood left in him was testimony to how resilient he was.
One kiss led to two, and then quickly became heated once more. He drank from her again, sucking at her neck even as he pushed his leathers down over his ass and shoved the loose material of her skirt out of the way. She had no idea what he did with her underwear, but suddenly he was sliding into her, filling her to perfection. Her fangs sprang forth once again so she repaid his bite with one of her own.
Pairing blood and sex together was a magical experience. The taste of the blood coupled with the penetration was almost too much to bear. At times, she thought she was floating in an alternate dimension where the colours were vibrantly bright, touch and taste were exquisitely sensitive, and pleasure was the dominating theme. When her orgasm hit, she felt like she’d just crested a wave, the drop down to normalcy a smooth ride that left her sated and spent, yet filled with energy at the same time.
Lying atop Greyvian’s chest, his arm around her, she could think of nowhere else that she would rather be. Especially when he proceeded to show her a side of himself that she had never imagined she would ever see—in fact, never would have imagined ever existed.
“I love the smell of your hair,” he told her, his words slightly slurred as he drew in a deep breath. “It’s like sunshine.”
Raising her head, she looked down into his eyes, finding them a bit dazed and unfocused. “You are so drunk right now,” she accused, loving the fact that he was a happy drunk. Who would have thought?
“Hmmm,” he agreed happily, a smile curving his lips. “It feels good. Just like you do.” At that, a firm hand gripped her butt, kneading her flesh.
“What else do you love about me?” she asked, holding her breath as she waited for him to realise what she’d asked of him. A declaration of love while he was drunk was probably as good as she was ever going to get from him, so she was going to take full advantage of the situation.
“I love the colour of your eyes,” he told her, focusing with some effort on the feature in question. “So vibrant. They almost seem to glow.”
“What else?”
He sighed happily. “I love your total lack of good sense.”
“My what?” she asked, pretending to be offended.
He chuckled and kissed her once, twice, on the lips. “Why else would you be here with me right now? Why else would you claim that you love me?”
Shaking her head in amusement, she brushed her fingers through his hair. “I believe we’ve been over this. I love you, and that’s that. You can’t change it, so you’re just going to have to live with it. Think you can do that?”
“Hmm,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “I think so.”
With that, he fell asleep. Or perhaps she should say that he passed out? Smiling, she kissed his cheek and then lay back down beside him, truly happy for the moment. She knew it probably wouldn’t last very long, knowing the kinds of demons that Greyvian wrestled with, both figuratively and literally, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy it while it lasted.
22
Greyvian would have liked nothing better than to live off of Sienna’s blood, to never have to hunt evil again and have those images burnt into his brain, but unfortunately, it seemed that it was more like alcohol to his system than anything overly sustaining. For a number of hours he felt fantastic, high as a kite, his mouth running away with itself—to Sienna’s delight—as he told her all of the ways in which he desired her. Her smell, her face, the way her hair shone in the light, her positive attitude to life; anything and everything he could pick out about her appearance, her character, her spirit.
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