“Is what he said true?” I ask.
Connor turns to me and frowns. “Will you please finish dressing my wounds?”
My boyfriend sits back at the table, shoulders slumped. With a sigh, I grab the suture kit. Giving stitches is almost as horrible as getting them. Neil finished most of his back but not his chest. After I finish the stab wound, I move in front of him to assess his chest. The six inch gash still bleeds but experience tells me it isn’t deep. It shouldn’t need sutures. I find another dish towel, wet it, and begin wiping off the blood on his chest. Facing him, staring at his pained face and strained eyes, I can’t help but ask, “It’s my fault, isn’t it? Was this because of Lipmann and last night? What I did? The truth.”
“Your actions did not…help matters, no,” he says.
“And how long have things been so…worrisome?” I ask.
“Since we returned from Las Vegas,” he says, eyes down. “Despite the truce, there have been rumors Antonia was up to her old tricks whilst we were gone. We have been investigating, of course but uncovered no concrete evidence.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“There was nothing you could do,” he says before reaching up to caress my cheek with a sad smile, “beyond what you were doing. Providing me a ballast. Comfort. The only pleasure and joy I currently have in my life. An oasis I so desperately needed where I do not have to be strong. Stern. Quixotic. Where I can be…” He runs his thumb across my lips. I’m still so pumped full of adrenaline I can’t stop the shiver of lust. “Myself. I had no idea how much I needed that. Need that. You. You are worth a thousand verbal lashings and a little bloodshed, fairest.”
Oh, please don’t. Please—
He leans in and kisses me. Oh heck, he did it. Okay, don’t kiss him back. Don’t…crud.
My traitorous lips move against his and within seconds I’m wrapped in his bare arms, pressed against his chest as our hands rove each other’s bodies. I can’t seem to stop myself. He tastes like mint and a tang of blood. Like him. My hand hurts but the pain is soon forgotten. Connor pulls off my shirt and bra. God I love the sensation of his cold hands on my tender breasts. His fingers rolling my erect nipple. Never ceasing his caress, he rises from the chair to lift me up so I have no recourse but to wrap my legs around his waist. We don’t stop devouring one another the whole trek upstairs to his bedroom. We fall onto his bed with him on top, grinding his pelvis against mine. With the first thrust of his erection against my own engorged sex, what little resistance inside me gets snuffed out. I’ve wanted him inside me since the parking garage. Guess I’ve found my kink. Dangerous situations. Thrill. This man needs to get inside me, to screw me senseless right now.
We’re tearing what’s left of each other’s clothes off and are naked within seconds. His mouth finds my nipple, suckling and flicking in time to his fingers playing inside me. He is so damn good at that. His other hand begins kneading my other breast, rolling and tugging my nipple in perfect coordination until he finally kisses me. Deeply. Almost as deeply as he thrusts inside me, until he reaches my end. That implosion is so shocking, so pleasurable it takes me another thrust before I notice the foul copper taste suddenly in my mouth. Blood. Enough I want to pull away from his kiss, but when I try he grabs the back of my head to stop me. I have to swallow down the blood. After a second he breaks the kiss to trail his lips down my neck as he rolls me into the sitting position. I prefer this position. I like being in control. We face one another as I straddle him. This time I choose the rhythm. I lower myself onto him and ride him up and down, up and down as he suckles and flicks my nipple again in time to my own movements. Oh, Jesus, that’s good. That’s—
A sharp pain crosses my breast. My eyes fly open at the same time his mouth leaves me. A small, shallow cut on the swell of my breast bleeds a little. “Sorry,” Connor says before kissing me again. The taste of blood remains strong. “Sorry.”
That’s the problem sleeping with a man with fangs. At least he’s never attempted to bite me. I’m not about to let this accident stop my fun. I close my eyes and continue riding him as he takes my cut hand, kissing and licking the wound. Blood. It must be driving him mad smelling it. But I don’t care. I’ve found that sweet, glorious spot his head rubs against in perfect rhythm. He kisses me again and that taste assails my mouth again. Ignore it. Just keep going. I’m close. Up down, up down. God, that’s good. I—
He decides to take control again, flipping me onto my back once more. The moment I’m beneath him, he drives into me harder, faster like a piston on high as I wrap my legs around his furiously pumping waist to drive him in deeper. I cling to his back and kiss his shoulder for some ballast against the overwhelming carnality. He traces something on my forehead, over my heart while whispering words I don’t understand. I don’t care. He’s found that magical spot inside me again, and I’m nothing but that ecstasy he bestows upon me. Connor kisses and licks my hand again before another coppery kiss. He thrusts faster, faster, good. So good. Faster…the strange words, I think in Latin, continue even as he kisses me, as he licks the blood from my still weeping hand. I’m coming…I’m coming…with one final thrust he drives me over the precipice while at the same time pressing my bleeding hand against his chest as he does the same with his own sticky hand to my cut chest.
When I return to my senses, when the orgasm finishes rollicking through me, I open my eyes. My wounded hand covers his cut chest and vice versa. After I take that odd fact in, how gross and bizarre that fact is, I then realize he has a strange, circular symbol scrawled on his forehead in blood. What the…?
I suddenly want him as far from my person as possible. I yank my hand from his bloody chest and nudge him off me, out of me, before backing as far away as I can on the bed. Connor doesn’t seem to notice or care. He’s…angry. He scowls deep that enough there are creases in his forehead, and he refuses to look at me. He mutters, “Shit,” before shaking his head and climbing off the bed. Without a second glance my way, as if I no longer exist, he strides out of the bedroom to the bathroom. If I wasn’t so freaked out for myself I’d probably be worrying about what I did to displease him. In truth I’m so glad he’s gone. I touch my own forehead and my fingers come away with blood. My chest too. The scrape is only about an inch long and shallow but there are still smudges of the blood from his own hand along with the vestiges of another sigil. A chill courses through me. I cover myself but the blankets can’t help with this kind of chill.
I hear the bath running and a few seconds later Connor steps out of the bathroom wearing a robe and blank expression, the blood now gone. His sins conveniently wiped away. “I have run you a bath,” he says emotionless. “And there is a first-aid kit under the sink to dress your wounds. My saliva should have helped though.”
“Uh, okay…” I say, clutching the sheet.
He nods. “You should remain here tonight,” he says as he moves toward the closet. “It may not be safe for you out there. After her failed attempt tonight, Antonia may become more desperate, Oliver be damned.”
“Uh, okay…” I say.
“I shall be at my office most of the night should you require me. Someone shall keep guard outside.”
“Uh, okay.”
He quickly pulls on black slacks and sweater before striding out of the room without another word or glance my way. Fine by me. I wrap the sheet around myself and scurry to the bathroom, shutting the door behind myself and even locking it. Safe. I finally feel safe now. It…something isn’t right. Something’s shifted. Wrong. I don’t know what. Everything was fine, pleasant even, until I opened my eyes. The moment I did it was as if he’d just violated me on some level. Not sexually per se but…I stare at myself in the mirror. He did draw the same symbol on my forehead. Another chill cascades down my spine. I wipe whatever that thing is off my body as soon as I can and gargle the taste of blood out of my mouth with toothpaste. Maybe the blood made him crazy. Our second night together he asked if he could bite me and I said no. He’s ne
ver tried to, not even tonight. But it’s as if he did. I don’t know. Something is off, and I hate that I can’t put my finger on what. I sigh. Right now I just want to get clean.
The bath isn’t filling fast enough. I jump in the shower. My hand and chest sting under the hot water. At least they’re healing already. Vampire saliva should be bottled and sold for billions. I scrub and scrub until my skin stings as much as my cuts. It takes a couple minutes but I finally get clean enough. I wrap myself in a towel and listen at the door before returning to the bedroom. He isn’t there. He’s off putting out the fires I helped ignite. A vampire I’ve never met probably wants to hurt me or worse now I’ve thwarted another of her nefarious schemes. How is it I’m not officially a F.R.E.A.K. and this crud keeps happening to me? I am just a trouble magnet. But in this moment…I don’t care about any of that. I wouldn’t care if there were a legion of bloodsucking undead out there to battle through. I want to get out of this apartment. I want to go back to my hotel, take a bath, and eat cake as I figure out what the heck’s bothering me, but I’ve learned the hard way if someone’s gunning for you, being alone isn’t the smartest move. Which is the lesser of two evils? I’m uncomfortable here but possibly in mortal danger out there.
I grab one of Connor’s robes and peek out of the bedroom door downstairs. No one. I’m uneasy as I leave the bedroom to retrieve my purse and clothes and don’t relax even a little until I’m back in the bedroom. Getting dressed helps too. After changing into black leggings and blue tunic, I sit on the bed with a long sigh.
I want to leave. I want out of here so freaking bad it’s as if the walls are closing in like in the Temple of Doom or something. I’ve actually been imprisoned before and though the digs are nicer here that sensation is the same. Antonia won’t hurt me, at least not intentionally. Of course I did just assault another of her minions, self-defense or not. But I’m only a target because of Connor. If I tell her we’re done maybe she’ll leave me alone. Because we are done, aren’t we? Yes. Heck yes. Great sex, traveling, and my own bookstore are not worth this. But it still doesn’t change the fact I assaulted her men, so what the heck do I do? I’m dialing Oliver before I even finish that thought.
“I was wondering if you were going to phone,” he says, no doubt with a grin. “I—”
“Antonia tried to kill Connor tonight,” I cut in.
“What?”
“Connor was walking me to my car, and these two vampires came at us with knives.”
“Are you alright? Trixie, are you—” he asks urgently.
“They cut my hand, but they stabbed Connor. We fought them off.”
“And why do you suspect Antonia was involved?”
“Because one of the men ordered the other one to leave me alone. That she told them I wasn’t to be hurt.”
Oliver’s quiet for a few seconds. “This makes absolutely no sense. They have a truce. She knows how powerful you are, and that you have an affinity for Connor. She would be mad to attack now, especially with you literally by his side.”
He’s right. I don’t know the woman, but I know enough. She’s not about to send just two thugs after an incredibly powerful vampire like Connor, especially when the Federal Agent who decimated a dozen vamps in one minute might be with him that night. And why not attack him when we was alone in the store? “Okay, then if not Antonia, then who? All his other enemies wouldn’t give a second thought to hurting me.”
Oliver’s silent for a few seconds. “What occurred after the altercation? How did Connor behave? What did he say or do? Was he acting oddly?”
“Not…” I don’t want to share intimate information with Oliver, especially with what just happened so raw. Maybe I was reading too much into it. Maybe it was some vampire thing. They can be into some freaky, kinky stuff. “He, uh, there was this weird thing that happened when we were, uh…you know.”
After a heavily pregnant pause, “What precisely?”
“He…kept licking my wounded hand and pressing it against the cut on his chest. He also…I think he’d bitten his tongue or something because when he kissed me, I tasted blood, like a lot, and—”
“Did you swallow his blood?”
“I had to. Yeah. Why?”
“Did he draw symbols on you with blood? Sigils?”
“How did you—”
“Did he say anything?” Oliver cuts in urgently. “In Latin or even English? Did he force you to say anything in return?”
“He didn’t force me to do anything,” I insist, “but the Latin thing, yeah. He was whispering, and I think it was in Latin. Why? What’s going on?”
“Do you feel different? Revitalized?”
“No, just freaked out, a sensation that’s growing by the second. What is going on Oliver?”
“Beatrice, you need to leave. Right now. Is Connor still there?”
“Uh, not really. He’s next door at the club. What—”
“Are you under guard?” he asks.
“I-I don’t know. Oliver, what—”
“They will attempt to stop you. You must not let them know you have fled. Get somewhere safe, somewhere public, and then call me. I will come get you. Do not take that car he gave you. I have no doubt there is a tracker on it.”
“Oliver, what the heck is going on?” I snap.
“He…attempted to make you his familiar.”
I draw a blank. “His what?”
“It does not matter now. All that does matter is you get as far away from that sociopath as possible.”
“Oliver, he’s not a—”
“Trixie, he organized the attack tonight. He-he attempted to force his soul on you. You need to leave and you need to leave now,” he says desperately.
That desperation and terror in his voice make me nauseous and my stomach was wobbly to begin with. “Okay. Okay,” I say, leaping up from the bed.
“I am leaving my hotel now. Get out of there and call me on my mobile. I shall be downtown in ten minutes. People and lights. Get to people and lights.”
I grab the suitcase I left here last night. “What about Nana and April? He’ll—”
“I will call and take care of them,” he says firmly. “Your only concern is getting out of that apartment undetected. Which you should be doing. Now.”
“I am.” I open the bedroom door and peek out. Still alone. “I’m leaving now. Just get my family to safety, okay? Nothing else matters.”
“Be careful. I am on my way.”
“Thank you. See you soon.”
I hang up, slip my phone into my purse which I wrap around my torso, and hurry down the stairs with my suitcase in tow. I do a quick look around for anything else I’ve left and realize I don’t care. I’ll buy whatever I’ve left again. I listen for noise at the front door. Okay. I don’t hear a thing beyond my own pounding heart. With a deep breath, I open the door. No one left or right down the hall. I can’t take the car, so I go toward the club. There’s bound to be cabs or Ubers outside. I pray there’s a crowd already. I—
Just as I shut the front door, I hear footsteps to my left toward the garage. By the time my head whips that way, Jack steps into view. I freeze. I don’t know how to play this. “I’m just…I’m leaving. I’m going home.”
“That is not advisable, Ms. Alexander,” Jack says, slowly approaching me.
“I don’t care. I’m doing it anyway.” I take a step to the right toward the club but before I get to take another, he’s right in front of me, blocking my path. I gasp but his expression remains neutral.
“You should go back inside. For your own safety,” he says in monotone.
I thought I was ready for this. The confrontation. The fight. I’ve been mentally psyching myself for this moment since I got off the phone with Oliver. I’ve faced this situation over a dozen times on the job, heck I’ve faced it this week, but once it’s here no prep, no experience helps quell the terror. There will be pain. There will be blood. Here it comes.
I stare straight into his one b
rown eye. “Move or I move you,” I growl.
That eye narrows. He appears menacing enough with the eye patch alone. “Get back inside or I will contact Connor—”
I break right, but Jack steps in front of me again. That’s it. I’m in no mood for the dance. I fling him backwards down the hall hard enough he leaves a dent in the wall. Reaching in my purse, I take off running before he even reaches his destination. I make it through the club hallway door before he grabs me by the hair, yanking me backwards. The moment I stop moving I hold up the silver MACE, spraying it in his good eye. That eye, the skin on his face, boils and burns. Jack releases me now he’s far too busy screaming and holding his face. Screw my suitcase. I sprint through the door into the hallway to the club. Shoot, it’s still too early. The club is only a quarter full, if that. Empty space everywhere. As the music pounds around us, nobody pays me any attention as I maneuver quickly from group to group, using them as cover. Just get to the door. Just get to the door—
A hand wraps around my right forearm holding it so tightly I whimper, but worse I drop the MACE just as another hand takes my other arm. Edgar keeps squeezing until I fear my bone will shatter but Avril’s the one with the scowl. “One false move, and I rip your jugular out,” she hisses right into my ear. “Come on.” She yanks me toward her.
“Help me! Someone—”
Avril suddenly smashes her lips against mine to shut me up. She releases my arm to hold the back of my head so I cannot get away, but Edgar practically forces my arm behind my back. He pushes and Avril pulls me back the way I came. The psycho finally breaks our “kiss” when we reach the first hallway. I literally spit in her face the moment I can. Bad idea. The cow punches me in the stomach so hard I lose my breath and double over. Heck, I see stars. Before I can recover, Edgar picks me up like a bride and within two blinks I’m back in Connor’s apartment.
I’m tossed onto the couch, literally gasping for air and curl into a ball. At least I’m not sobbing like Jack at the sink. “Let me see! Let me see!” Avril says behind me, I guess to Jack.
The Sin Eater (A F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad Investigation Book 5) Page 19