“You should read that one,” Julian said over my shoulder, making me jump and drop the book to the floor.
He picked it up and held it out to me. I turned around to face him, a blush creeping up my neck.
“Uh…thanks.” I was reminded of the first time we had unofficially met. I smiled just as stupidly, and followed up with, “You seem to have a bad habit of saving my ass.”
When he didn’t smile, I bit my lower lip.
“If I were better at it, you wouldn’t be here.” He reached over and slid his coat off my shoulders. I sighed as the warmth of his hands seeped into me through my still damp T-shirt.
“I can give you some dry clothes,” he said softly.
I nodded and pulled my arms out of the sleeves then stood there, very aware of the parts of me exposed, though not necessarily in a bad way. He leaned a little closer, his chest brushing against me lightly. I held my breath.
“Might want to take a look at this one too.” He pulled another book from the shelf behind me. A shiver ran down my back when he eased away. He held out a tattered leather-bound copy of The Code.
“Sure.” I took the books and pressed them to my chest, trying to hide the visible response my body had to his nearness. Now was so not the time to give my hormones a say in things, what with the imminent beheading and all.
“Are you thirsty?” he asked, leading me into the kitchen. I climbed into a stool at the high bar as he opened the fridge. A neat row of clear plastic jugs lined the top shelf, filled with dark liquid. Blood.
“No thanks.” I wrinkled my nose. “We can’t eat food?” I flipped to the index of the Undead manual. No chocolate? That would be a travesty.
“You can eat and drink, but food won’t sustain you. Most lose their taste for it.” Julian pulled one jug of blood out and inserted it into a stainless steel contraption that looked like a combination bread maker and espresso machine.
“It’s better warm,” he explained, reading my puzzled look.
“Warm…like, right out of the cow?” I reached up to touch my neck. There were still a few small bumps where Cody had bitten me. It should have been the least of my worries, but I was glad I wouldn’t be stuck living the rest of my unlife wearing turtlenecks every day. Though Julian seemed to favor them anyway. Did the Undead have their own fashion rules too?
Julian leaned against the counter behind him and crossed his arms over his chest as I skimmed through the listings for “blood” in the manual: animal blood, blood bonds, blood donors, blood-letting, blood proof, blood Sponsor, blood storage, blood thirst, types of, Other entries: see fangs, hunting, Sponsorship.
I closed the book with a sharp snap and shoved it away.
“Fresher is always better,” Julian said, “and human is always better. But taking blood from a live donor is forbidden. We get it from blood banks. It keeps for about a week, and we do what we can. Secrecy, remember?”
I curled my lip at the thought of “what we can” included, even though the smell of it made my stomach churn with flames.
Julian’s face went stern, his voice matter-of-fact. “Your body is consuming its own blood. If you don’t replace it, you’ll weaken and eventually disintegrate from the inside out. Very slowly, and very painfully. I don’t recommend trying it.”
I made a face, and his expression softened. “The blood’s not so bad. Your survival instincts will take over, and eventually you’ll get used to it.”
“How long did it take you to get used to it?” I examined the tidy, settled room, wondering how long he had lived there. Had he ever cooked food on the stove, or had pizza delivered? Did Julian bring dates here? Or just rescued strays?
“It was different for me.” He lifted the lid of the blood-warming contraption. “I had a Sponsor. I knew what I was getting myself into.”
“I can’t see how someone would choose this.” I stared down at the sparkling tile counter. I could see how most accidental turns went crazy, especially with the surprise!-you’re-dead factor. But I couldn’t ignore that a part of me had always known something was missing from my life, just beyond my understanding. Was it actually my psychic ability I had felt? Now I was pretty certain I wished I knew nothing about any of it.
Julian pursed his lips together as he emptied the bottle into two mugs. He set one of them in front of me before drinking from the other. “It does have its upside.”
“Like?” I raised my eyebrows. Color me pessimistic, but I’d run in to nothing but trouble since Cody had bitten me. Except for Julian. The jury was still out on just how much trouble he would turn out to be.
“You felt it.” His dark gaze bored into me, causing a flush of heat that had nothing to do with the steaming cup in front of me.
I shifted in my seat.
“Supernaturally enhanced senses. Speed. Strength. Agility. Not to mention the closest thing to immortality that exists.” He stared into his cup for a few seconds before taking another drink.
Would that be enough for some people? I had felt it, and it was wondrous. But I was dead, and that complicated the plans I’d had for my life. Someone would have to be pretty unhappy to give it all up — even for some neat tricks like holding your breath forever. That feeling of walking on air had been glorious, but it had faded. I could still sense it on the fringe of my mind, like all I had to do was figure out how to tap into it, but I was too afraid to try. I furrowed my brows.
“You’re new, Alex.” Julian drained the contents of his mug and rinsed it. “It takes time. But you need your strength.”
He pushed my mug closer. The smell snaked up to my nostrils, and my mouth watered. A strange burning sensation tickled my gums. A brush of my tongue alerted me to an extra set of canines directly behind the ones I’d had all my life. Sharp ones, I realized, when I nicked myself. The sweet tang of blood filled my palette. My stomach growled. I tilted the cup and looked into it. In the dim light of Julian’s kitchen, it looked almost black. I could almost imagine it was coffee.
I licked my lips, conscious of Julian watching me. I held my breath, thinking screw it. I’d already drunk blood with tomato juice, right? I closed my eyes and threw it back, swallowing in three big gulps. The blood felt thick coating my throat. The heat hit my stomach and spread, and I shuddered at the buzzing feeling it sent racing through my body. He was right. I felt stronger almost instantly — more alert, more energized. I opened my eyes and looked at Julian’s outline in front of me, again tinged with the golden halo I’d seen before.
“Is this what you see?” I slid off of the stool and stepped around the counter to face him, to take in the full glory of his figure and the energy emanating from him.
“What?” A thread of apprehension entered his voice as I stalked towards him.
“This.” I ran my hands along the outline of his shoulder and arm, slipping just over the surface of the shiny coating.
He took in a sharp breath, and a shiver ran down his body.
I cocked one eyebrow and stroked the light again, across his chest, just shy of actual contact.
As my hands skimmed over Julian, the yellow faded to a deep purple. He closed his eyes and held perfectly still as I slowly circled, trailing my fingers through the edge of his essence, or whatever it was. A familiar taste spiked the air, like honeyed whiskey. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of it. “So many new things. They’re the supernatural senses you were talking about, right?”
He swallowed. “What do you sense?”
“You.” I kept my eyes closed and swirled the feeling of him around in my mind. I wanted to coat myself in it, wrap it around me like a thick blanket of butterscotch.
“What about me?” he asked, voice gone husky. He turned around slowly, his breath warm on my forehead.
“I can smell you, taste you,” I said, too intoxicated by it to be shy. My skin was warming just being so close to his body, and I was acutely aware of the fact that minus two pieces of flimsy cotton, I would be naked in front of him. I recognized the heady f
eeling swamping my system. I’d felt it before, when Cody had bitten me.
“That’s normal,” Julian whispered. I felt his voice like drops of warm oil down my back.
I swayed on my feet and opened my eyes to find Julian staring down at me, his lips half parted, eyes darkened with a wild heat. The dangerous kind of heat, the kind that I could never resist.
Oh boy.
“What do I taste like?” My question came out a breathy whisper.
One side of his wide, luscious mouth curled. “Like ripe berries. And rain.”
I reached through the purple energy haze between us and placed one palm on his chest, leaning forward slightly. His gaze fastened on my lips.
I gave him a sultry smile. “And what color am I?”
He blinked, confusion plain on his face. “Color?”
“You were golden, and now you’re purple.” I glanced up and down his body — openly admiring it for the first time. He had a build that promised power and strength without being overly bulky, and he looked like he knew how to use it.
Who was I kidding? Julian was big trouble.
“I don’t see any color.” He stepped back, shaking his head. “You’re seeing auras. That’s a psychic gift, not an Undead sense.”
Well, shit.
Julian’s aura shifted to a dark steely grey, swirled with stripes of white. Was that fear? Anxiety? He probably didn’t have a book to help me figure that out. It didn’t matter — I’d just reminded him I was the same as his enemies. Nothing like that little tidbit to kill the mood. His exotic fragrance faded too, though a bittersweet aftertaste lingered in the air.
I sighed, my shoulders slumping, and searched for an internal button to turn my “psychic gift” off again.
Julian wouldn’t look at me. He stood a few feet away, sifting through a stack of mail on the counter, effectively shutting me out. I suddenly felt like a much bigger imposition.
Unwelcome everywhere, safe nowhere. That was my new mantra.
I cleared my throat. “So, what do we do now?”
“You probably want a shower and some clothes. The sun will be up in a couple of hours. Undead are naturally nocturnal, so I’m sure you’ll need some rest.”
Yeah, right, like I was going to be able to sleep knowing a band of psychics bent on my destruction were out there searching for me. Not to mention the whispering voices waiting in my dreams. I shook my head and wrapped my arms around myself. “I meant what are you going to do with me? Am I your house frau now?”
I hated how weak that sounded. Normally, I was a go-to girl. I took care of myself. Even if that meant I got in a jam, I always figured my way out. But now I was a nobody in a new game where all the rules had changed. Despite my instincts to the contrary, I had to count on Julian to call the shots until I found my footing, and trust him not to misguide me or let me down. I should have known better to rely on any man that hit my buttons the way he did, but what choice did I have?
He sighed. “I have to make some calls, inform my superiors of the situation. They’ll want me to bring you in tomorrow.” He ran his hands over his face — his first show of tiredness since I’d met him. I would have to try harder not to wear out my welcome.
“And, what if…” I stopped, afraid to ask the question that came next. What if the Cloak had the same thought as the Grigori? What if they wanted me dead, really dead? What would Julian — my Undead Knight in black trench coat — do then?
He looked me straight in the eye. “I don’t know.”
Well, at least he’s honest.
Chapter Five
Julian wasn’t kidding about the nocturnal part. Despite feeling like I was waiting for an unseen jury to convene on my fate, when the sun came up, even my anxiety about my situation couldn’t keep me awake. I fell asleep curled in a ball on the sofa watching Saturday morning cartoons. At some point, Julian must have carried me to his room and tucked me into his bed.
That good deed on his part led to a series of dreams involving Julian at various levels of undress and coated in honey. Better than the nightmares I’d been afraid of. I woke promptly at dusk to find it pouring outside. He’d left me alone in the house, but his truck was still parked out front, which I assumed meant he was busy doing something on the property.
The TV couldn’t hold my interest for long. Mass media brain rot seems so pointless when you’re dead.
I pulled on a sweatshirt I found in a neatly folded stack of them in the closet, bypassed the mug and heating instructions he’d left for me on the counter, and hopped barefoot along the stone pavers connecting the house to the garage out back.
The lights were on, the windows steamed up. Pink Floyd played distantly in the background. I paused outside the door, wondering if I should interrupt, but the rain sluicing on my head made up my mind. I knocked twice, slipped in, and shut the door behind me.
Julian had outfitted the garage like a gym, with wood floor half covered in mats. The walls were unfinished, the beams exposed, but directly across from me stretched an entire wall dedicated to displaying a collection of knives and swords.
My host was working out with a bag hanging at the other end of the room, shirtless and barefoot. He completed a few punches and kicks before acknowledging my presence.
“Sleep well?” He seemed to be in a better mood than when we’d last spoken. Maybe it was the workout. Did Undead still have endorphins? I’d have to look that one up later.
I couldn't help staring as he crossed the room, admiring the cut lines of his chest and arms. Sweat glistened over his bronze skin like an Aqua di Gio ad. I’d dated a few jocks, but I’d never been so close to a naked torso of that caliber. It was a little overwhelming. I had to remind myself to close my mouth.
He tossed me a cocky grin as he wiped his face, then sipped from a bottle of blood.
“Breakfast of Champions?” I gave him my most dazzling smile in return.
He scowled, looking offended as he wiped his mouth.
“Jeez, tough crowd.”
Mental note: keep the sarcasm to a minimum.
It wasn’t Julian’s fault I found him utterly gorgeous and therefore a threat to my wits. I needed my wits. Making jokes was the best way I knew to create a casual rapport, but insulting him was poor repayment for his hospitality.
I sighed, facing the Wall-o-Blades with my hands tucked behind my back. “Can you use all of these?”
“Do you know how to fight?” His tone was light and curious as he approached. The smell of him intensified as he closed in, a salty masculine musk that gave me flashbacks to all of those wicked dreams. I decided to try not breathing for a while.
“No, but I play soccer. I’ve given a few girls bloody noses, and I broke my Clavicle once. Is this what you do for fun, Jules?” I started to lift the biggest mama sword from its resting place.
Julian stopped me with a gentle hand on my arm. “I’m a warrior. It’s part of my job, not a game.”
Back to Mr. Serious again.
“Sorry. I’m just bored. I can’t go anywhere or call anyone. What am I supposed to do, just hang out inside all day reading manuals?” I tried not to be obvious about the fact that I was checking him out, but he was so close it was impossible not to. There were several interesting scars all over his body. I was sure each one had a story, and I would have been happy to listen…while giving them a closer inspection.
He let a slow, secretive smile loose, as if he could read my thoughts. “I’m sure we could think of something.”
I glanced away so he wouldn’t see the effect that innuendo had.
Julian lifted another sword from its mount. The blade glinted with menace as he waved it in front of him and brought it upright. He took two steps back onto the mat in the center of the room. “Come over here.”
I gave him a skeptical look, but followed. Whatever he had planned, which judging by the smirk on his face was something at least he would enjoy, it had to beat moping and watching re-runs of The Bachelorette.
&nbs
p; “Spread your legs.” He tapped my thigh with the broad side of the sword.
I cocked one eyebrow at him. Was this a game of chicken? Or was it just me with my mind in-between the sheets?
He smirked. “Get in an athletic stance.”
I decided to humor him and obeyed.
He stepped up behind me and positioned my hands on the sword and adjusted my grip. His warmth seeped in anywhere he touched me. “This is a Japanese katana. It’s single-bladed, with one sharp side and one dull.”
I nodded, twisting it in my hands to look at the blade edge.
Julian moved his hands to my forearms, squaring his chest against my shoulders, and I almost forgot to hold the sword up. He was going to have me sweating before the workout.
“With a single-bladed sword, the best strike is a diagonal slash, from collarbone to hipbone.”
He lifted my arms up and to one side and guided me through the motion.
“Mm-hmm.” I watched the light shine off the blade as we brought it down at an angle, then did the same from the other side. I was more aware of the feel of Julian’s body against mine than of anything he was saying. The scent of him wrapped around me like a cloud of warm caramel. The back of my neck started tingling again. It was an effort to keep focused as he instructed me on the proper stance and directed me through a few more repetitions of the movement.
His hands slid down my arms. He took his time adjusting my shoulders, feet, and hips, making tiny corrections. Was I just imagining he took every opportunity for us to touch? It seemed things really had changed since last night.
Julian came around to face me, his expression tinted with equal parts evaluation and…pride? I’m athletic and a quick study, but I’ll admit I was trying hard to impress him. Doubly hard to pay attention and not turn on the flirt.
“That’s very good.” He nodded with approval as I completed the motion for the fifth time.
Julian came to take the sword from me, but I stepped back. “Show me some more.”
He swept his hair out of his eyes, one side of his mouth curving up, trying not to smile. It made me want to see that smile even more — like it was just peeking out the edges, taunting me. “You want a real lesson?”
Cloak of Deceit: An Alex Moore Novel Page 5