***
Karim couldn't remember having a better night in his long, long life. He stretched and rolled over in bed, hoping to make love to Celeste once more, only to find the bed empty. Opening his eyes, he saw her sitting at the edge of the bed. She wore a pair of his sweat pants and an old t-shirt, her hair damp. She was pulling the thick locks into a sloppy bun.
"Hey," he said, his voice hoarse from sleep. They had made love two more times before finally making their way into the shower, and then too exhausted to move, collapsed into bed. He'd watched her sleep for a while, her body relaxed. He'd brushed the hair from her neck, brushing kisses along her skin, pausing only to look at the raised red mark at her nape. It was something he'd seen before and as he ran his fingers along the skin around it, he tried to remember where. She shifted then, turning to face him, burrowing closer so that they were pressed together beneath the cool of his sheets. He'd stared at her, unable to believe that she was with him, in his bed. He'd wrapped his arms around her, wanting to feel her close, her breath tickling his neck. He had been afraid to move until the darkness took him and he fell into a deep and contented slumber.
Even now, he awoke, unable to believe that she was really here. He watched her, quietly amazed that she'd stayed with him. She stood, rolling the waist band of the pants so that they wouldn't fall off of her. She looked incredible, even in his clothes which were two sizes too big.
"Morning, beautiful," his voice was still heavy with sleep and satisfaction.
"Hey. I didn't want to wake you. Go back to sleep. I'll be out of your way in a minute."
He sat up, and looked at the clock. It was still early, not even ten in the morning. Celeste tucked a lock of hair that had escaped her bun behind her ear, her eyes downcast as she folded her clothing. She laid her pants on the corner of the bed and held up the square of cloth she'd wore as a top. His eyes drifted to the leather pants, the pants that fit her like a glove, making her ass look like a candied apple. He was hard in an instant, his body ready for more of her.
"You don't have to go. It's still early,” he said, reaching for her hand. She saw the tented sheet and gently pulled away from him. Her gaze moved away from his face down to his smooth muscled chest, then back to the tent in the sheet. He pulled the covers down, exposing himself, letting her take nice long look at him.
"Come back to bed, azizam."
"I ... have a ... class at ... twelve," she stammered, "I'll call you later."
"Well that was a lie," he said, smiling. "Does this have something to do with the Blondie from last night? Is he your guy?"
She looked at him in complete surprise. The blondie? She thought and remembered that she had entered Jinxie's with Nicky. Was that jealousy, she wondered then quickly dismissed that thought.
"Nicky? No, Nicky is just a friend and he's probably worried about me,” she said gathering her clothes. "I'll have this cleaned and returned." She pointed to the sweats.
"Keep them. I like the way you look in my clothes."
She gave him a tight smile before heading for the bedroom door.
“Can I get a goodbye? A ‘see you later’?" He leaned forward, reaching for her, but she evaded his touch.
"Later. I really have to go,” she mumbled. His stomach knotted and he crawled out of bed.
"Can you even look at me? Celeste, hey, wait this wasn't a one night thing was it? Because it wasn't for me." He was hot on her heels, following her down the narrow hallway. His tone becoming harder, his volume increasing as they practically raced each other to the living room.
"Let's just chalk it up to a night of drinking…"
"Let's not. You weren't drunk. Don't give me that shit." He was getting angrier by the second. She couldn't do this to him, not now. Not after all this time, when he thought that maybe they had reached some sort of an understanding. She was blowing him off. Well, he was having none of that, not after what they shared, he'd be damned if he let her walk away from him.
"Well, adrenaline. You and I…look it is what it is. I have to go," she said quickening her pace. He managed to get in front of her, blocking her passage, a large, nude curiously semi-aroused roadblock in the middle of the narrow hall. He ran a hand over his head, then down his face as he tried to understand what had happened. Just a few hours ago she was all over him, purring and moaning, her body hot and wet wrapped around him. What the fuck had happened?
"What the fuck does that mean? Was this like a booty call?" he asked, his voice harsher than he intended. He grasped her shoulder, forcing her to look at him. "Talk to me, dooset. Because last night you couldn't get enough of me, now you can't get away fast enough. "
"First, never use the term "booty call" again, strike it from your vocabulary. Second, I don't know what this was but it's not a relationship, Karim. It was sex. I wanted it, you wanted it, so it happened and now I'm leaving." She tried to sidestep him, but he wasn't allowing it. So they stood, staring at each other in the dimly lit hallway.
"So it was a pity fuck? A way to keep me from chasing you like a whipped puppy? Get me to heel?"
She tried to step around him again, making it as far as the living room before her path was blocked, yet again.
"It wasn't a pity fuck," she said. "It was a tension reliever. It was either that or pummel you to death. I believe you enjoyed the choice I made. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement."
"You can't just…hate fuck me and walk away."
She stared at him, her eyes a deep steel grey, her mouth a tight line and if he didn't know better, he would have sworn those were unshed tears glistening in her eyes. His anger dissolved and he wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms. When she finally spoke, her tone was low, her voice even as she spoke. It sent a chill through him.
"It's what I was trained to do, Karim. Don't you know? Haven't you figured it out? That, last night, was something I am very good at. I had excellent training and I am a very quick study, don't you think? It only took a month before I was the best in the palace. I mean I had to be, I was the favorite concubine of your Persian King. I was so good in fact that I'm the reason he was murdered ... I was ... I was very, very popular." He stared at her, his brow furrowed.
"What are-" he took a step forward, grasping her wrist. She pulled away, that look returning, and he realized why he couldn't place it before. He'd never seen that look on her face before, not ever, and he never wanted to see it again. It was a look of pure, panicked terror. He released her, not wanting to upset her anymore.
"Don't do that. Don't ever do that," she whispered, easing past him to the door.
"What happened to you?" he whispered, gathering her in his arms and kissing her temple. She pushed away from him, not wanting his pity or to feel his touch. She got to the door, her voice shaking as she spoke.
"I didn't have sex with you out of pity or revenge. I ..." She didn't look at him, instead she focused on the gold plated door knob. "I did it because, it’s what I do. Once a whore always a whore. Isn't that the saying?" She made her exit, not wanting to see his face, not wanting to see the pity and shame of having spent the night with used goods. He'd put her on a pedestal, thinking she was too good for him when the truth was she wasn't worthy to have anyone love her, to be in love with her. She was a broken person and nothing, not one thing could fix her.
She blinked back tears as she sprinted down the hall to the stairs; she didn't look back just in case he was there, just in case he tried to follow. She wouldn't let him see her cry.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Where the hell is she?" Remy tossed his cell phone down and continued to pace Celeste's living room. He and Nicky had come to her place after dropping Briar off at the house he shared with two other soldiers in Metairie. They had assumed Celeste had gotten out of Jinxie's okay, that she would have made it safely home by now. Remy had been a little wary when they'd pulled into the garage and her car was missing.
He became anxious when she didn't answer her cell phone and she hadn't tried to
call either of them. Now it was hours later and they still hadn't heard from her. Near dawn Remy's cell had chimed to life, but it wasn’t her, only their sister Lisette checking in to let him know that Celeste hadn't gone to the family home in Mandeville, nor had she been admitted to any hospitals, though they both knew that calling them was an exercise in futility.
"She wouldn't go to a hospital, Remy. She's a fucking superhuman. She's fine. She probably found some guy to take out her frustrations on. Now goodnight." She’d managed to make him feel as if she'd slammed the phone down in his ear even though she hadn't. You can't slam a cell phone.
Gaston had called a little later saying that there were no reports of accidents or arrests, Celeste was simply MIA. He also echoed Lisette's thoughts which pissed Remy off even more.
"Like I told you,” Nicky said from his position laying across one of the plush purple couches in Celeste's crowded living room," she probably went home with Karim. They looked pretty heated on the dance floor."
Remy snorted and waved off that notion.
"She would never ..."
Nicky sat up and looked Remy in the eye, his tone even and clear.
"Don't underestimate the power of hate fucking, my friend." Nicky yawned. "And by what I saw last night, she was ready to hate fuck the shit out of that man-"
"Vampire. He's not a man, “Remy grumbled.
"Man, vampire, fucking chipmunk-whatever-it doesn't matter, there was something, some pull that draws them together. There was a mutual attraction and maybe last night she couldn't fight it anymore. Hell, maybe she didn't want to." He went into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, before remembering that she hadn't gone to the market. "I'm ordering groceries, so that when she does show up, which she will, she'll have actual food in the apartment." Sighing, he grabbed her phone and ordered a grocery delivery from one of the local markets.
"She wouldn't," Remy said sinking into the deep cushions of her sofa. He knew, somewhere deep down, that Celeste probably was with Karim. He'd seen them locked in an embrace. The way Karim looked at her, his hands cradling her hips as they swayed. There was love there; Karim was in love with Celeste. He ran a hand over his face, scrubbing his stubbly cheek. He remembered what she had been like when they'd found her, when they had taken her from the hell she'd been trapped in for so long. She was better now, but behind that bravado and fierce anger, she was fragile. She couldn't possibly believe that Karim was worth her trust, that he wouldn't hurt her again.
"She wouldn't," he repeated. The elevator pinged and Celeste stepped into the living room, her clothes clutched to her chest. She stared at Remy then Nicky, before lifting a hand to stop their verbal assault.
"She did." Nicky sighed.
"I don't want to talk. I need a hot bath and a cup of coffee."
"Where were you? We've been looking for you for hours. Celeste, you scared the shit out of me."
She dropped her clothes on the sofa and moved across the room, ignoring Remy's outburst.
"You're out of coffee. You’re out of everything. I called for a delivery. You'll be stocked up and a fresh pot brewed by the time you get out of the shower," Nicky said, stroking her cheek. He looked at her and frowned. "Ce, have you been crying?" He asked in a whisper. It was a useless effort, because the look on Remy's face told Nicky that he'd heard every word. Damn super naturals, Nicky thought. Celeste gave him a tight smile, and kissed his cheek.
"I'm fine," she said. "I just need a hot shower and a cup of strong black coffee."
"So you fucked him?" Remy barked, and she visibly flinched.
"Hey, hey!" Nicky yelled at him. "What is wrong with you? It's none of our business."
"You did. That's why you smell like him, you reek of sex and you're obviously wearing his clothes. Celeste, what's wrong with you? After what he did to you, you fuck him?"
"It's none of our business," Nicky warned, watching Celeste's face. She had her back to Remy so he couldn't see the fresh tears welling in her eyes. He couldn't see the pained expression or the way her chin trembled. She was in so much turmoil and Remy was browbeating her. He was also beginning to change, his eyes going bright yellow and his fangs elongating in a face that looked much more feline than it had before.
"The fuck it isn't. He's the reason we had to pull her out of hell, Nicky! You don't know the torture and pain she went through because of him! Every fucking thing that happened to her was because of him. And she goes and spreads her legs for him like a trained whore!” Remy bellowed and she recoiled. It was as if he'd slapped her in the face. She lowered her head, her shoulders shaking as she began to silently sob. Without looking at either of them, she rushed up the stairs to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Nicky, the most even tempered, laid back, mellow person they had ever known, exploded with rage.
"Are you out of your fucking mind?! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Are you that pissed because she slept with Karim instead of you? You enjoy seeing her cry or are you just a son of a bitch in general? Why don't you just shut the fuck up and have a fucking seat, stupid insensitive piece of shit."
"You have no idea," Remy began, and Nicky's entire body tightened, his face a brilliant red. He took a step forward so that he was nearly chest to chest with the rapidly changing Remy. He lowered his voice, and an icy chill ran down Remy's spine when his friend next spoke.
"I know more than you can imagine. I know everything that happened to her. I have been with her when she wakes screaming in the middle of the night. I've been the one she calls when she's gone too far and hurt some random hook up. I've been the one to talk her down when she's scrubbed herself raw under a boiling shower. Me. Not you, not Gaston, not Arbor…me. So don't you tell me what I don't know, because you have no fucking idea what I've done for her, what I've given up for her. I love her more than anything in this world; I’m eaten alive every time someone else touches her. I know what she's suffered and I would never speak to her the way you did. I’ll die before I let you do it again."
"You of all people should be furious. You've been in love with her since you met her, you've always been there for her and she gives it up to that piece of shit, comme une putain commune," Remy muttered to himself.
"Stop calling her that!" Nicky shoved him, surprising Remy.
"You speak French?" he asked incredulously.
"Among other things, zlo chlen," Nicky mumbled, walking away from Remy before he struck him.
"Did you just call me an ‘evil dick’ in Russian?" Remy snorted.
"Yes, I did, you pretentious twat. What gives you the right to talk about her like that? You're her brother. You're supposed to protect her. You're supposed to care about her. You are not supposed to make her feel like shit." Nicky couldn't even look at him anymore. He'd never wanted to choke another person until that very moment.
"Because ...she fucked him. Of all people ...it's just wrong," Remy said.
"Goddammit, what the hell is the matter with you? Couldn't you see that she had already beaten herself up over the entire situation? She'd been crying, Remy. Have you ever known her to shed tears over anything? Ever? In like eight hundred years, have you ever? Asshole."
Remy sat down, his jaw slack, his eyes on Nicky's whose smooth tawny skin was now brilliant red. He had never seen his friend this angry. Hell, he'd never seen him angry at all in all the time he'd known him. Nicky raked his hands through spiky platinum hair, and paced back and forth seething. The intercom buzzed and Nicky went to answer it. He spoke in low, even tones before turning back to Remy, who sat with his head in his hands.
“I don't like when you attack her like that. She and Karim have a twisted history, I know. But Remy,” He paused and looked at the closed bedroom door then came closer. "He was her first love, her first kiss. And even though he did what he did, she still feels something for him. So back the fuck off."
Remy nodded. He hadn't known that, but of course Nicky would know. Nicky knew everything. She trusted him because unlike Remy, Nicky accepted everythin
g about her, no questions asked. He loved her unconditionally, and unlike Remy he would never say the things to her that Remy had. Feeling like even more of a jerk, Remy's shoulders slumped, the anger easing from him.
"I am a cunt, aren't I?" Remy mumbled.
"A great big one,” Nicky agreed just as the elevator doors pinged open to allow the delivery man into the apartment.
***
Lilith sat on the edge of the bed, slipping her feet into a pair of sleek heeled sandals when she felt him watching her from the doorway. She sighed, but didn’t bother looking at him, knowing that he was here on a fishing trip.
“Good morning, Lovely,” he said in his crisp, high-bred English accent. She hated that accent and the fact that he had developed the affect a few years ago. He didn’t need it, but he insisted it made him seem friendlier, more open and relatable. She thought it made him sound like a high-born ass.
“Morning, Daddy,” she mumbled. She didn’t have to look at him to know that he would have a smile on his handsome face, a face that was made for movies or politics. He’d chosen politics, or course.
His thick dark hair, which wasn’t really dark enough to be considered black, was brushed away from a perfectly tanned face. The tan was somewhat natural but gave him an outdoorsy feel, as if he spent a lot of time outdoors, which she knew he did not. His eyes were the only thing that took away from his movie idol prettiness and made him seem intense and foreboding; they were dark and gleamed like highly polished coal. When he wasn’t smiling, which was rare these days, he could be quite intimidating, almost frightening. Senator Alexander Prince was the poster boy for his party, JFK reborn. He was their Golden God. Little did they know, she thought, they were putting their trust in the Prince of Darkness himself?
“I hear you had a run in with the Queen,” he chuckled. She looked up at him then. He was standing as he always was, just inside of the door. His suit was dark and crisp, his shirt was white and his tie was a vibrant, lively shade of lemon yellow. He said queen as if it were a joke.
Mark of the Fallen: A Fallen Novel Page 11