Goddess of Night (Amaranthine Book 9)

by Joleene Naylor

  “Thank you.” Jorick dropped back into his seat and tugged his shirt smooth.

  Des rolled his eyes, but drove on from the complex. As they passed a pair of police cars, Katelina worried that the officers would come after them; they’d made it through awfully fast. Luckily, the cars didn’t move. Soon the customs complex was behind them.

  “Much faster and easier,” Jorick said.

  When no one replied, Sorino commented, “There are probably two hours to sunrise. Perhaps we should find somewhere to stay?”

  After a unanimous agreement, Des steered them to a nice hotel. Jorick hissed air between his teeth, but Katelina cheerfully piled out. It was a huge improvement on the last motel and, without dead children in the basement, it beat Lilith’s lodge by a mile.

  At the desk, Jorick handed over both a credit card and driver’s license. The Guild had given him both on his assignment in January. How long until they marked them invalid?

  Their room was on the second floor. A king sized bed was covered in a cute patterned comforter. A matching recliner and chair were situated in the corner with a stand between them. Heavy curtains hung on either side of the window, no doubt thick enough to block the coming sun.

  You get that when you rent a nice place instead of the flea pits Jorick picks.

  Katelina tossed her luggage on the bed, then headed for the bathroom. Crisp and white with a dark shower curtain and granite countertop, she felt cleaner already, as if the modern sterilization could take away the filth of Lilith’s murder lodge.

  What it didn’t remove, the hot water did, and she exited feeling refreshed. She hesitated at the door to the bedroom, wrapped in a towel. She’d left her suitcase in there. Though she and Jorick were a couple, had been a couple, sashaying around naked still made her uncomfortable. Vampirism hadn’t toned her body, or done anything for the jiggle of her thighs. It had erased most of the stretch marks around her breasts, but not her thick lumpy scars. Those were the main thing she wanted rid of.

  She leaned against the door and listened to the TV. Tinned laughter sounded; an old sitcom, maybe? For hating television, Jorick watched the strangest things.

  She straightened her spine and met her eyes in the mirror. She was being silly. If you lack confidence, fake it. Waltz in as though you own the place. Chances were, Jorick would never notice, anyway.

  She opened the door and padded inside, chin lifted as she repeated her mantra. Jorick lay stretched out on the bed, hands behind his head and ankles crossed. He clicked the TV off and smiled. “All done?”

  “Yeah.” The suitcase wasn’t where she’d left it. She looked around quickly. “Um, where is—”

  Before she could finish her sentence, he pounced her to the bed. She squealed and wriggled under his weight. He grinned and snapped playfully. “Now that you’re clean, we could do something to dirty you up again.”

  It took all of her willpower not to laugh. “Please tell me that wasn’t supposed to be sexy.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “I could name women who’d think so.”

  “I’m sure you can, but it sounded weird to me.” She gave him a consolation smile. “Hey, you tried. That’s what—”

  He interrupted her by rolling them both over, so that she was sprawled on top of him, her legs around his waist. “Then it’s your turn. Seduce me.”

  “You’re a man. All I have to do is take the towel off and show up naked.”

  He gave a polite cough. “For your information, while I do enjoy you without the towel—” he paused to tug it loose, “—men appreciate you doing more than just showing up naked.”

  He tossed the towel across the room, so she threw an arm over her breasts. “Men aren’t interested in all that romance stuff like women.”

  “How do you know? Are you a man?”

  “No, but I’ve known a few, thank you, and I’ve seen plenty of TV, and read magazine articles—”

  “Written by women and designed to sell, just like television. Programs are condensed, over-simplified attempts at representing reality in tiny, digestible pieces that will draw millions of people, so networks can charge more for advertising slots. Media is not concerned about truth, only about charging Pringles more money for a commercial.”

  “I’m proud you came up with Pringles.”

  “There was a commercial before you came out,” he admitted. “But the point is that men have feelings. We want to be wooed as much as women. We want to feel special. We want to be told how amazing and attractive we are.”

  “All right. You’re amazing and attractive.” She lowered her arm and leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. “But I have no idea how I’m supposed to ‘woo’ you.”

  Jorick smirked. “If I have to tell you, it doesn’t count. Isn’t that what women say?”

  “Are you a woman?” she teased.

  “Apparently, I need to remind you I’m not.” He fisted his hand in the hair at the base of her neck and crushed her lips in a burning kiss. Goose bumps raced down her spine. All pretense of resistance evaporated as her body melted against his.

  He broke away to tug his shirt over his head, revealing his pale marble muscles. She couldn’t stop herself from touching the tantalizing surface; skimming her palm over his chest, stopping to trace her finger around his nipple.

  He caught his breath and bit his lip. When she met his dark eyes, he growled low and pushed her back to the bed. Her lips parted, ready for his kiss, but he pressed his mouth to her neck. She felt the scrape of his teeth. Excitement tingled through her. Though the immortals could have traditional sex, the real thrill, the real orgasm, came from sharing blood, from being bitten and biting your lover back. There’d been a time when she thought it was strange, even scary. Now she felt only desire and excitement.

  He nibbled his way to her ear, leaving a trail of want, and whispered, “Where’s my wooing?”

  “I’ll woo you later.”

  “Is that a promise?” he teased as he trailed his hand down her stomach, to the apex of her need.

  “Yes!” She gasped. “I promise.”

  He smiled against her neck. “I’m going to hold you to it.”

  She stopped from saying he’d better hold her to something—it was as cheesy as the line he’d used — but his chuckle said he’d heard it anyway. Before she could defend herself, he dropped his hand the last inch and all coherent thoughts fled. Her back arched and her legs opened. Still it wasn’t what she really wanted; she wanted the bite, the feel of his skin between her teeth, the taste of his blood.

  He teased her with slow, aching circles while she writhed. With each motion, her desire built, until she thought she’d explode.

  At last he pressed a kiss to her most sensitive spot, then moved slowly upward, tasting her skin with his tongue. He paused at her breasts. She urged him on with her hips, desperate for him to bite her, to bite him, to have that connection, that fulfillment.

  He shifted and she pounced, knocking him back to the bed. He gave an exclamation of surprise as she bit into his neck. His hot blood filled her mouth. She swallowed, reaching out for him. She felt him, like a golden bead of light, but that wasn’t what she wanted. She’d been there before, wrapped in his memories, his feelings. Though it was warm and safe, it wasn’t what she craved. She wanted—needed—the crimson world of pleasure. It didn’t come.

  He sank his teeth into her. With the pain came the euphoria. She was floating in a world of scarlet, a thousand hands touching her, a thousand lips kissing her. She was lost in him. Moments moved like hours. Finally, everything exploded in silver stars and bright red fireworks that left her panting.

  He licked the blood from his lips, then brushed her hair back and kissed her softly. “You’re beautiful.”

  She flushed. “So are you.” He wrapped his arms around her and she nuzzled against his chest. A moment of silence passed while she gathered her courage to ask, “When I…I bit you, it didn’t…it didn’t work. I thought it was up to whoever did the biting about
the kind of connection and all, and I was…I was thinking about that but that’s not what I got.”

  He stroked her hair. “It takes more than thinking about it. You have to project it, not just open yourself up and reach.”

  “How do I project it?”

  “It’s hard to explain. Mind readers have an easier time.”

  And there it was. Again. “That’s why I couldn’t—”

  “No. All vampires can do it. I imagine it means that all vampires are whisperers, but lack the strength to do it unless they’re…stimulated.”

  “Then why didn’t it work?”

  He shrugged. “I told you, because you weren’t projecting, only seeking. I can’t explain it. It’s something instinctual, like breathing or swallowing. I don’t consciously know how to do it. Don’t worry, little one, it will come to you eventually.”

  “That’s helpful,” she muttered.

  He chuckled. “You have hundreds of years to perfect your abilities. There’s no hurry.”

  “Of course there is. I need to catch up to you. Since you didn’t turn me I’m already behind.”

  He paused, as if that wasn’t what he expected. “Even if I’d been the one to turn you, you wouldn’t be ‘caught up’. I’m more than five hundred years older than you. That’s a long time to practice, Katelina.” She sagged and he tweaked her nose. “Cheer up. Thanks to Samael’s blood, you’re already ahead of fledglings your own age.”

  Though she sensed his unhappiness at Samael’s involvement, she was oddly grateful. “At the party in Canada they thought I’d been a vampire for twenty years.”

  “Exactly. Isn’t that enough of a head start for you?”

  “No.” Because what she wanted was to be equal with Jorick.

  “You are equal with me, little one. You always have been.”

  There was no point in arguing, because she knew he meant well. It only made her more determined to practice, so that one day she could be in the elite ranks with the rest of them.

  Just wait.

  Chapter Three

  The next evening saw Katelina dressed and following Jorick to the lobby. She could smell the mortal blood around them: in the rooms, walking past in the corridors, the staff at the desk. Each one made her stomach tighter.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Jorick teased.

  “Maybe if we had a snack at night I wouldn’t be starving in the morning?”

  “Yes, you would. Do you think vampires have lived hundreds of years without trying that?”

  The others joined them in the lobby. Together they filed out to the van. Katelina took her seat from the day before and tried not to notice how delicious Kai smelled. From the way Des shot glances backwards, she wasn’t the only one.

  Des brought the engine to life. “We’re feeding, then going to Iowa?” Jorick gave a crisp nod and Des scowled. “You’re sure we want to go there? Into the heart of the Executioners?”

  “Are you avoiding them for some reason?” Sorino asked from the back.

  “Besides the fact they’re all blood thirsty bastards?” Des replied sarcastically.

  “You need only fear them if you’ve done something wrong,” Jorick said.

  “I didn’t say I was afraid,” Des snapped. “And they don’t necessarily need a reason to go after someone. You know that better than I do.”

  And there it was. The reference to Jorick’s days as an Executioner. Though his first stint was before Katelina was born, he’d been forced back a few months ago. After they’d released him, they recalled him to play security guard at the party in Canada. The fee for going was a signed document promising he’d never be forced to serve again. It would have filled Katelina with relief if she trusted the vampire government.

  Jorick was ready to bite back a response when Brandle interrupted, “I heard that, with a new leader and new members, things were different in the Executioner ranks. Perhaps we should give them the benefit of the doubt.”

  “Until they stick knives in our backs?” Des muttered.

  They fell silent, and the atmosphere thickened as they drove. Katelina was relieved when they pulled over outside of town. They climbed out and split up through a large area of trees. “It looks very East Coast here,” she commented.

  Jorick cocked an eyebrow at her. “What?”

  “I said it looks East Coast. You know, the tall trees, the lack of underbrush—like the forests on TV. It’s a nice change. Most places look the same as Ohio. Like Iowa. I expected it to look really…I don’t know…rural. Really farm-y, but it wasn’t much different. This is different.”

  He chuckled. “And Germany wasn’t? Or Japan?”

  “Not really. The jungle in Africa was different, but we didn’t get to enjoy it. We were busy running from one place to another, trying to beat Malick to Samael.” With the name Malick came memories of The Guild. “Maybe Des is right. Are you sure going to The Guild is a good idea?”

  “Why not? What do you think will happen?” When she felt the soft buzz of a mind reader, she contemplated shutting him out, then relented. Let him see. It was easier than saying, “They’ll rope you into being their lackey again.”

  “Katelina, we have Eileifr’s word.”

  “What does that mean? The word of a vampire? It’s no better than the word of a human. Everyone lies, cheats, and changes their mind when it suits them. Ancient vampires are no better. Worse, maybe.”

  Jorick caught her hands in his. “Eileifr won’t force me to work for him again. I doubt he wanted it in the first place, but he couldn’t afford to waste anyone on the party in Canada.”

  “Don’t give me that. He’s a demon eye, isn’t he? He can see the future. He knew what was going to happen there. He sent us on purpose.”

  Jorick hesitated. “Perhaps. But he can’t recall me. I have the signed paper. I’d only need to take it before Munich—”

  “While we’re messing with that, what would Samael and Lilith do? What about Sarah and Estrilda? Forget it. You don’t understand.”

  She pulled free and started away, but he caught her shoulder. “Katelina, I swear I won’t join them. Surely my word counts for something?”

  She started to snap back, then softened at the sincerity in his eyes. “Yeah. All right.”

  He hugged her and pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck. Goosebumps raced down her spine.

  “Now that’s settled, perhaps we can get to more important things?”

  “Seriously? Last night—”

  He laughed, rich and warm. “I meant feeding, but I can see where your mind is.”

  She flushed, but didn’t deny it. He’d told her before he liked that because it made him feel important to her; attractive. It made sense since it did the same for her.

  Jorick soon located a deer. He held it still by his will as he bit into it and drank. When he finished, he wiped his mouth and motioned Katelina to feed. Watching him, smelling the blood, hearing the soft slurping sound, drove her hunger to a fever pitch. She clamped on gratefully, taking in long mouthfuls. The world around her faded until she saw open fields, heavy forests, smelled the crush of plants beneath her feet, the scent of humans—the smell of death.

  She broke away, hands shaking. Jorick gave her a curious look, and slowly released his influence on the deer. It stood blinking, then turned tail and ran into the trees, kicking up leaves and dirt.

  “Hunters,” Katelina said. “They killed her baby. She…She’s mourning.”

  “Of course she is.” Jorick wiped her mouth with his thumb. “Animals are sentient beings, like humans. To think differently is presumptuous.”

  “But if that’s true, how is feeding on them any better than feeding on people?”

  “I never said it was. Come. Iowa waits.”

  They climbed back in the van and started off. It was near ten p.m. when Sorino’s cellphone buzzed. Katelina glanced to Jorick, but he didn’t look up from his book.

  “You are aware this is my phone,” Sorino commented to his caller
, a mixture of intrigue and irritation in his eyes. “It’s hardly my fault he refuses to get his own. However, since we’re together, just this once, I can be generous.” A thin smile stretched over Sorino’s lips as he held the phone out. “It’s for you.”

  Jorick reached out, but Sorino pulled the phone away from him. “It’s for your pet.”

  Katelina frowned. “Who would call me?”

  Jorick growled as she snatched the device and pressed it to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Kately!” The sound of Verchiel’s voice instantly conjured an image of a vampire with slanting purple eyes and a mop of crayon red hair, long in the back and spikey on top, much like an anime character. Verchiel was an Executioner. Whether he was a friend, or more of an antagonist, remained to be seen.

  “What do you want?”

  “You don’t sound happy to hear from me.” There was a pause, then his usually flippant tone turned serious. “You shouldn’t be. We have a situation.”

  Jorick glared, but she motioned him quiet. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

  “There’s been a battle. A big one. If I had to guess, I’d say Lilith and Samael were involved.”

  Katelina’s heart stopped. “You’re sure?”

  “I can’t be sure yet. I just got assigned to go deal with the aftermath. They’re sending all the Executioners who are dream stealers or whisperers, and a bunch of guards. We’re heading to the airstrip and should be at ground zero in a couple of hours. If the pictures are anything to go by…I don’t know anyone else who can cause this kind of destruction. Whole houses were destroyed. It looks like bombs except…”

  “Except there weren’t any bombs.” Katelina remembered the masquerade; the way Lilith and Samael threw invisible balls of power that ultimately brought down the ceiling. “Do you think they were fighting each other?”

  “I’d guess so, but I’m not there. We’ll collect testimony before we wipe the humans’ minds.”