by Rachel Lee
“Where?”
“I don’t know. I hear whispers, but they don’t tell me.” She lifted a hand, touching a crucifix that hung around her neck. “No truck with the dark powers. Not me. I value my soul.”
“Any ideas who might be involved?”
“Not me, and I don’t want to know.”
Outside on the street, Damien paused and Caro watched as he closed his eyes. He drew several deep breaths through his nose as if testing the air. Then he astonished her.
Holding out his hand, palm down, he moved his fingers a bit as if feeling the air. Caro’s jaw dropped at what she saw next. There was a sparkle, a faint blue glittering around the ends of his fingers, and she could have sworn she saw a crackle of electricity pass among them.
As soon as he dropped his hand and opened his eyes, she demanded, “What the hell was that? What did you just do?”
“You saw?”
“I saw. Electricity around your fingers.”
“Amazing.”
“Damien!”
He smiled faintly. “Things are coming back to me from my distant past. I was feeling the air for powers, sending out my senses in a quest. That thing is still hovering nearby, but nothing else. Nothing that would lead us to its source. It’s not here. We need to keep looking.”
“So what’s new,” she muttered as she followed him into a deserted alley. He hoisted her on his back, and the crazy roller-coaster ride started all over again.
Now she had to deal with what she had just seen him do, and she had a million questions that were clearly going to have to wait.
Just what kind of powers did he have that he could make sparks like that with his fingertips and be so certain that the source of the evil pursuing her was not there?
Oh, she was going to give him the third degree when she had a minute. A police officer knew how to question.
* * *
Caro’s powers were growing as were his own. Damien could feel it. He wondered if that was because they were both trying, or if it was a growing reaction to the elemental that hovered near her most of the time.
Wondering didn’t change it, however, nor did thinking about it answer the question. Probably a combination of both, he decided.
He was having trouble keeping his focus, though. Having Caro so tightly wound around him was delightful, and although the wind spared him her mesmerizing scents, he picked up a faint whiff every time they stopped. Her blood, her delicious blood, surely the finest of champagnes. Her desire, waves that always seemed to be there, sometimes ebbing but never gone.
The Hunger in him, also never gone, tried to rise and dictate his actions. It wanted him to lay her down on one of those icy building roofs and take her thoroughly and completely, entering her and drinking from her at the same time.
The woman was going to drive him mad.
For centuries he hadn’t really thought about it. Certainly not when he’d lived in Persia and tempting delicacies had come to him willingly, making offerings of themselves. He’d made a kind of peace with the changing times and had learned to find his quarry in ways that harmed no one.
But he’d never really thought about the deep grip of the Hunger on him. How it affected him. How it could cloud his thinking. How it could dominate him.
Mainly because there’d never been a reason before. Now there was, and that reason was Caro. Simply Caro. He thought he’d tested the dimensions of his Hunger before, but he was learning he hadn’t even come close.
Those dimensions were dangerous. Not just because of the possibility of claiming. After all these centuries he had begun to believe that he was immune to that problem, although Caro made him wonder.
No, the danger resided in distraction and inattention. He had to focus on the threat, not on his Hunger for Caro. He didn’t need his instincts clamoring for satisfaction when it might cost her her life. He’d never forgive himself if something went wrong because he failed to control the constant, hammering, throbbing, demanding need he felt for her.
But the Hunger wasn’t entirely amenable to control. He could no more entirely quash it than he could prevent the sleep of death. It was as essential to his existence as food was to any being, and it would not be denied for long.
He could drink gallons of that rotgut Jude purchased from a blood bank, and it would only briefly ease his nature’s demands. Caro roused those demands to heights he couldn’t remember ever having experienced except as a newborn. He wanted her. He wanted her in every way a vampire desired prey, in every way a vampire desired a lover.
Cut it out, he ordered himself as he leaped to a new rooftop. This was not the time. He had Caro’s life to consider.
Wrong time or not, however, with her wrapped around him it was impossible to fully suppress his yearning. So close and yet so far.
It was almost a relief to reach their destination so he could put her down, put even a few inches between them. He was careful to stand upwind so he wouldn’t get a noseful of her enticing scents. Oh, he could still smell her, but at least it wasn’t hitting him full-force in the face.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he watched her rub her cheeks.
“No, I’m not okay,” she said querulously. “How many more places do we have to visit to hear exactly the same thing, which is nothing?”
He wondered what had made her so irritable. Then he smelled it, sweet and enticing, and knew the ride had been as much torment for her as for him.
He couldn’t quite hide a satisfied smile. Ungenerous perhaps, but there was something good about knowing he wasn’t alone in his torment. Perhaps he could do something about that, for her anyway. Later.
For now he stepped to the side so that her alluring scents didn’t reach him as strongly.
An image flashed across his mind’s eye, an image of her naked and writhing beneath him, begging him to take her and drink.
He sighed.
“I’m going to do this differently,” he told her. “You reach out with your senses and see what you can detect. I’ll do the same. Talking to people seems to be getting us nowhere.”
“I’ll second that. Okay, I’ll give it a shot.”
He watched her close her eyes and almost smiled again as he saw her stiffen with effort. “Just relax,” he said. “Sometimes trying too hard just blocks it all.”
She obeyed him, relaxing herself in stages until she looked more comfortable.
As soon as he was sure she wasn’t trying to force herself, he stretched out his own hand. No one on the street would see it, but he was still surprised that Caro had been able to. The hum of power, so long unused, felt wonderful. His fingertips tingled and sparkled with energy, and little blue streamers of electricity arced between them.
Let it build, he told himself. Just let it build. It had been so long, and he had missed it so much.
It grew until he felt it humming up his arm, then into his entire body. He felt alive with the power and wondered why he had abandoned it so long ago. Times had changed, forcing him to be far more discreet and cautious than in his temple days, but maybe he had sacrificed too much to caution. Way too much.
He watched his hand begin to glow blue with the power, a glow that was probably starting to surround him from head to foot. So much power, but it had to be directed.
He thought of the threat, reached out to sense it hovering nearby. When he found it, he extended his power outward toward its source or summoner.
As soon as he touched on it, it snapped back, but as it instantly dissipated, he caught a general direction. It wasn’t as good as an address, but at least he knew which parts of the city he didn’t need to check out.
Unless, of course, the bokor moved.
He let the power seep away, then waited for Caro’s reactions. When she opened her eyes, they seemed darker than usual. “I felt it,” she said. “But then it snapped away. You?”
“Me, too.”
She turned slowly and pointed to the west. “That direction.”
“That
’s what I got, too.”
“Then let’s go.”
He reached out to grip her arm. “Wait.”
“Wait?” Her irritation was unmistakable. “Wait for what? I’m tired of this thing stalking me. I’m tired of never feeling alone even when I’m in an empty room. I’m tired of wondering if it will somehow slip by you or other witnesses and do the deed anyway. And I’m worried that it might go after someone else, too. Like Pritchett’s brother-in-law. That thing is murderous and it has to be stopped.”
“I absolutely agree.”
“Then what are you dragging your heels for?”
“Are you ready to face a bokor?”
“Isn’t that what we’ve been looking for?”
He shook his head slightly. “We’ve been looking for information. I’m not ready for a confrontation with a bokor and neither are you.”
“But you made that thing snap back.”
“For now. The bokor will know it. Now he has a measure of my power and yours. That doesn’t work to our advantage unless we prepare.”
“Why not?” She sounded impatient. “If we wait, we give him more time to prepare, too. Maybe come up with a stronger force or more of them.”
“That’s possible. Possible but unlikely.”
“You’d better explain.”
“Let’s go back to your place. Your lips are turning blue. Then we’ll talk.”
She grumbled a bit, but she allowed him to carry her home. Such sweet torture.
Once inside her apartment, he waited for her to wash up and change and get herself a hot drink. Then he made another protective circle around them so they could sit in her living room and talk.
“So explain to me how we gained any advantage by not going after the guy right now.”
He liked the feisty set of her jaw, and the way her gray eyes snapped at him. He tried to remember the last time any woman had ever stood up to him this way, and he couldn’t. Times had changed indeed, but even so Caro was a force to be reckoned with.
“He’ll know his elemental was detected and deflected, but that’s all he knows. That could have happened in a number of ways. By not following, we leave him to think it may have been purely accidental.”
“But what if he doesn’t?”
“We still have to prepare. Caro, there are simply some battles you can’t wade into without adequate preparation, and magic is one of them.”
“What kind of preparation?”
He put his hand over his mouth. He didn’t want her to see the smile twitch his lips as he anticipated her explosion. Because she was going to erupt.
Then he wondered why he was even considering mentioning it. She would definitely erupt, with some justification because his proposal was going to seem so out of line to her, and then where would they be? Worse off than right now.
“Damien? Just get on with it. What kind of preparation?”
He picked his words with care, feeling as if he were tiptoeing between rays of sunlight, which for him were the equivalent of mines. “In my tradition...”
“In your tradition what?”
“In my tradition we practiced certain rituals to enhance the power of the mage. Rituals of great focus, power and intensity.”
“And they were?”
“Sex.”
Her mouth hung open. She shook her head a little. The expected eruption didn’t happen. Instead she almost squeaked, “Sex? A ritual?”
“Very much so. Can you think of anything that embodies the life force any better?”
Her mouth closed, then opened again. “Life force. But you’re dead!”
“Not exactly,” he reminded her. “Undead, not dead. I straddle two worlds, which makes me more powerful. But I can still focus the life force. And so can you.”
“Sex,” she repeated. Then the eruption came, clearly because she didn’t like the way he was proposing this. A seduction was one thing, but a ritual? It must sound like an excuse to her. “What is this? Some new kind of pass to get into my pants? Are you that desperate?”
“I’m desperate all right,” he admitted frankly, “but not enough to lie to you. What I’m telling you is true. Lots of people believe in the strengthening powers of sex, that it unleashes the hidden powers in all of us, however temporarily. If you know what you’re doing, the powers aren’t temporary.”
“And I suppose you know what you’re doing,” she said acidly.
“Of course. I was a temple priest.”
Again her mouth opened and closed. While this was nowhere near as bad as he’d anticipated, he expected more. This wasn’t her culture’s way of looking at sex. In fact, there was hardly a group on the planet more prudish than her culture, although there were probably some. The Brits, he thought with a flicker of humor. All that Calvinism and Puritanism had found a great home here.
“Sex,” he said when she offered nothing more, “is a joyous celebration of life. Properly practiced, it’s purely good.”
“You’ll have to excuse me, but I’m a police officer. I’ve seen it used in a very different way too often.”
“I’m sure you have. There are always abusers of gifts. People who use them as weapons. Like the bokor we seek.”
She sighed. “Point taken. So what do you expect me to do? Get naked with you on the floor?”
He bridled a moment, then reminded himself this concept was utterly alien to her. “I’m not trying to take advantage of you, but to explain a ritual. The occasion requires considerably more ceremony and thought than that. It requires a certain amount of devotion.”
“Devotion sounds good,” she admitted. “Let me think about it.”
He could only wonder at her thoughts because she didn’t share them. Not that he had expected instant capitulation. While he could see, smell and nearly taste her desire for him, she probably wanted something a little more romantic, or a little more spontaneous.
He suspected the whole of idea of making love as a ritual was what was setting her back on her heels. It did sound a bit clinical if you weren’t used to the idea.
Her gaze tracked back to him and it was now suspicious. “Did you just make this up?”
“Absolutely not.”
She shook her head a little. “I don’t know about this. It sounds so cold.”
“It’s anything but.” Yet he could understand her feelings. Most women preferred to be wooed.
“What exactly would be involved?”
“I’d make love to you and try to bring us both to the highest pitch of completion possible.”
He saw her eyes darken, smelled the scents of her desire. His own arose in response, and he knew he was halfway there.
“What else?” she asked.
Now came the part he was sure was going to upset her. But there was no way around it.
“I’m a vampire,” he reminded her. “My predatory instincts must not be wakened.”
“So...I’d have to hold still?” She looked as if that didn’t exactly please her.
“More than that,” he admitted frankly. “I’d have to tie you up.”
Chapter 10
Tie her up? The words caused a windstorm of reactions in her, ranging from anger at the mere thought of being constrained to an amazingly powerful shiver of longing.
She closed her eyes, knowing she couldn’t conceal her scents from Damien but hoping she could keep her eyes and expressions from giving away more.
“I could tie you up,” she pointed out tensely.
“You could. But there are two problems.”
“And those are?”
“You don’t know the ritual, and if I become predatory, there are few bonds that could hold me.”
“Lovely.” Sarcasm dripped from the word.
But she wondered what her real resistance was. She couldn’t deny the way her body had clenched at the thought of being tied up and loved by him. Never had she suspected she might have a hankering to be bound like some kind of sexual conquest. Undeniably, however, the urge was there.
At least with Damien.
Now that the image had been planted, she couldn’t escape it. Instead, her mind wandered around the notion of being both helpless and exposed while he loved her in whatever way he chose. Another pulse of desire tightened her core, making her ache so hard.
She knew where he could take her even fully clothed. She had been longing for more ever since. What was she afraid of?
Being helpless? Of course. She hated being helpless. Even as her libido responded powerfully, some part of her resisted. Why?
Because she suddenly felt incredibly and uncharacteristically shy. The notion of helplessness and being fully exposed made her feel like an inexperienced schoolgirl who had never before been touched, who had never before been naked with a man in even the smallest way.
“You have to take charge?” she asked quietly.
“Yes.”
“And I’m supposed to just let you tie me up and use me in whatever way you choose?”
“I would be a tender lover, Schatz. The point of this is pleasure, not humiliation or bad feelings. That would subvert the ritual.”
Her eyes snapped open. “I’d feel a whole lot better about this if I thought you gave a damn about me.”
He appeared astonished, which gave her a small measure of satisfaction. “I don’t call anyone else Schatz.”
“What’s that mean, anyway?”
“Treasure.”
Oh, man, he knew exactly how to slip past her defenses. Treasure? That word hit her right in the heart like a warm dart. She bit her lip. “I need to think about this, Damien. It’s not like we ever really made love before. You’re asking a lot.”
“I know. But I could, right this instant, come to you and love you in all the ways I want, ways that you want, too.”
“As long as I don’t move.”
He nodded. “It’s not that I fear hurting you. I fear forgetting myself and drinking from you at the same time.”
“So I’m still just a food group?”
“You’re far more than that or I wouldn’t even suggest this. Would it make you feel better if I come to you first as an ordinary lover?”
Would it? She didn’t know anymore. How could she when she’d had such an unexpectedly strong response to the idea of being bound by him? “Will it affect the power of the ritual?”