Breathless

by Radclyffe

  “You’re fucking kidding me,” I whispered, as a thought bubbled to the surface of my mind. I raised the photograph again.

  The guy had the girl tucked into the crook of his arm. The look on her face was softer and more reserved than his bold, broad stare. His eyes were blue-green.

  I couldn’t help it, I laughed. I raised my eyes to the ceiling. “Seriously?”

  If the Gods heard me, they didn’t answer.

  I returned to the living room and tossed the small frame to Arthur. He caught it without fumbling.

  “Where are your roommates, Jordan?”

  Jacobson’s eyes went wide and he rocked back in his seat. “Shit.”

  “Um, yeah. Shit about covers it. So, where are your friends?”

  When Jacobson didn’t answer, Arthur put the picture down on the wooden coffee table.

  “We can do this the hard way, if you want to,” I said. “Detective Kingfisher can arrest you and I can go search your apartment more thoroughly. I’m sure I’ll find old bills or something else that will identify them.” I crossed my arms over my chest, careful of the Mark III in its holster beneath my peacoat. If it had been any day other than Thanksgiving, I would’ve threatened to have the police check his bank records. Of course, even for searching the apartment the cops would’ve needed a warrant, but I didn’t mention that. When threatening, some things are better left unsaid, and besides, I’m not a cop. “Your choice, Jacobson.”

  Jacobson decided to do it the easy way and gave us the names of his roommates. Christina Simmons and Joshua Roberts. Joshua was a vampire wannabe, which explained the lack of fangs in the photograph and the fangs on the surveillance footage. Then again, the photo could’ve been taken before he’d been turned, but he hadn’t been turned, and that was the point.

  Jacobson went to the bathroom and emerged carrying a case with two dainty fangs in it. When Arthur took the case, he started laughing.

  “Damn kids these days,” he said. “What in the world would make you think a preternatural expert wouldn’t see through these?”

  Jacobson shrugged. “We didn’t know there would be a,” he seemed to have forgotten the word, “paranormal investigator.”

  And that was the truth. They thought they could fool the cops by pretending a vampire had wiped Jacobson’s mind. The kids didn’t know enough about vampires and the aftereffects of being charmed by one to make their story convincing. At first, it might have worked on the cops, but I suspected once Jacobson’s manager realized he’d failed to do the nightly drop, he’d have gotten caught.

  Arthur called for backup. Once two cops I didn’t recognize showed up in their squad cars, Arthur told them to park down the street and wait inside until Christina and Joshua got home. I was thankful Arthur wasn’t going to force me to stand around twiddling my thumbs, but I hadn’t expected him to drop it in someone else’s lap just to take me back to my car.

  On our way out of Jacobson’s apartment, I asked him, “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

  “No, they can sit around and wait to arrest them,” he said. “I’m taking you back and going to get lunch.”

  I opened the door and slid into the seat. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  It’s true what they say, sometimes the universe does smile. It might not have been smiling on Jordan Jacobson and his roommates, but hey, that was their own damn fault.

  *

  “Kassandra.”

  Lenorre’s voice was smooth and velvety, her British accent only slightly noticeable. I blinked my eyes open. The bedside lamp was on, casting a soft glow from its frothy globe.

  I stretched, shoving my arms under the pillow.

  “You’re awake,” I mumbled, trying to push away the last clinging strands of sleep.

  Lenorre touched my cheek with cool tapered fingers. “So are you.”

  The blouse she wore was the color of hematite, bluer than the pure gray glory of her eyes. It showed the slim and curvaceous perfection of her waist, the gentle swell of her breasts. The color brought out the preternatural luminosity of her white skin.

  “You’re dressed,” I noted, letting the appreciation of her attire fill my eyes. “What time is it? Have you fed?”

  “’Tis eight and yes, I have fed.”

  I sat up, pushed my tangled black hair out of my face, and guided the hair to fall down my back. “Gods, it’s already eight?”

  “Rosalin informed me your little detective friend sought your aid. So I thought to allow you to rest. What happened?”

  I told her. When I was done, Lenorre’s eyes shone with soft amusement.

  “That was rather foolish,” she said. I nodded my agreement, reclining against the mound of pillows. Lenorre lay next to me, tracing the line of my jaw with the tips of her fingers. I turned my face into her palm, brushing my lips across her skin.

  One touch, one simple touch and a heated look was all it took to make the breath catch in my throat. She bent at the waist and I knew she was about to kiss me.

  “You should really let me brush my teeth first.”

  Lenorre got to her hands and knees. “I have a better solution,” she said, stretching her body across the bed and reaching for the nightstand. I wanted to go to her, to slide my hands across the tight swell of her ass and to her waist. I wanted to tuck my hands under the silken material of her blouse, to feel her cool skin beneath my fingers.

  I hadn’t realized I’d made a noise until Lenorre turned her head to look at me.

  “That look,” she said in a breathy voice, eyes dark. The top drawer of the nightstand slid closed with a quiet click. Amusement rose in her expression to mingle with that seductive darkness. “Why are you holding yourself?” she asked wryly.

  “I don’t know, exactly,” I said, lowering my arms.

  She stayed where she was, glorious body stretched out like an offering, gaze meeting mine invitingly over her shoulder.

  The wolf inside me pricked her ears in curiosity.

  “Kassandra, what are you thinking?”

  I closed my eyes and licked my lips.

  “That’s a very distracting position.”

  Lenorre gave her honeyed laugh. “Oh?”

  I opened my eyes. The shirt fell away from her stomach, giving me a peek-a-boo view of her pale skin underneath.

  Good Gods.

  “Come here,” she whispered. There was no power or pull in her voice.

  Stubbornly, I shook my head. “If you plan on wearing that to dinner, that’s not a good idea.”

  “Ah,” she said, understanding. She sat back on her heels and held out her hand. It took me a moment to realize she was holding a small box of mints. I laughed.

  “The better solution is keeping a box of mints stashed next to the bed?” I asked, taking one.

  She tossed the small box aside, hands rising to unbutton her shirt. “I know how much you appreciate good hygiene.”

  “Are you trying to make me choke on my mint?” I asked, tucking it behind my teeth. I pushed the blankets aside and stopped her by putting a hand over hers. My T-shirt was long enough to cover the crimson lace shielding my intimate bits. Lenorre liked the sight of red against my skin.

  “No,” she said, “I am only trying to spare my clothes.”

  I touched the silken collar of her shirt, stroking it between my thumb and index finger. On her knees, she was still taller than me and I had to look up to meet her gaze. “What if I don’t want to spare them?”

  “You are the one that gave me a choice.” She touched my thighs, hands sliding up to cradle my hips.

  I grabbed two fistfuls of my shirt and tugged it over my head, before tossing it to the floor.

  Her hands slid over my stomach, threatening to go higher.

  “Take your clothes off without making a show of it,” I whispered against her lips, “or I’ll rip them off.”

  Her generous eyelashes fluttered. She did what I asked, but even with quick and adept hands, there was some show to it. With Lenorre
, how could it be otherwise? She was a vampire; watching her undress was like watching some dark and seductive goddess unveil her beauty.

  I reached behind her back, unhooking her bra and dragging it down her arms.

  The sight of her made me ache between the legs. I ignored that aching need and bowed my head, taking the soft skin of her breast into my mouth.

  Lenorre moaned my name and buried her hand in my hair.

  I drew back, whispering, “Harder.”

  Her hand twined in my hair, twined in such a way that I cried out.

  I bowed my head again, kissing the top of her breasts.

  Tension strung her body. She used the grip she had to turn me, pulling me back against her. Her hand slid down my stomach, fingers sliding effortlessly beneath the red lace. She played those fingers at my cleft, threatening to sink lower into the honeyed sweetness she had summoned.

  “Yes.”

  Lenorre tugged my hair, forcing my head back and exposing the line of my neck. I thought she would touch me, thought she would finish that last downward slide, but she didn’t.

  Instead, she whispered my name and I shivered. Her mouth traced my shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses behind. She stroked the damp lips between my legs, placing a kiss over the pulse pounding in my neck.

  I tensed, afraid that she was going to bite me.

  Lenorre noticed it. “You are afraid I will bite you?” Her fingers stopped their steady teasing.

  “Yes.”

  “Would that truly be such a bad thing?”

  I licked my lips. I was afraid to answer. She had only bitten me twice and neither of those times had really been as a means to feed.

  When I didn’t answer, I felt her lips moving. “I am a patient woman,” she said. “I will wait, but for now…” I flinched when she drew my skin into her mouth, sucking on it oh so carefully to avoid breaking it. The dents of her fangs dragged across my throat, drawing an invisible thread of desire to my groin. The pleasure of it startled me, made things low in my body swan dive. My stomach muscles spasmed with anticipation.

  “Do you trust me, Kassandra?”

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  She answered me with actions, not words. Her mouth worked at my throat, teasing me with lips and teeth. I rocked back against her, swooning, shivering as the edge of her fangs caressed my skin.

  “The neck is a very sensitive area. Particularly yours.” She kissed me and licked me, trailing her fangs tauntingly across my skin as if she knew where every sweet spot was located in my neck and shoulders. I shivered helplessly. When her lips found a spot on the curve of my left shoulder, she caught it lightly between her teeth and I moaned. Her mouth sealed over it, tongue playing against it, sending a small orchestra of shudders down the front of my body.

  I moved my hips, praying she understood I wanted the hand she so idly held against me to start doing something.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes?” she whispered, pressing a kiss behind my left ear, breath warm and tickling.

  “Gods, yes! I trust you. Please,” I breathed the words, “Lenorre, touch me.”

  She obliged. I made a sound of frustration when her fingers brushed past my clit. She pushed herself inside me and I fought to hold myself upright. Her grip in my hair did most of the holding.

  “Lenorre,” I said, eyelashes fluttering as she slid her fingers in and out of me. “Lenorre, I want you to stroke me.”

  She laughed and the laugh vibrated against my neck, forced another shudder from me. Her hand moved up my body to stroke me and I sank into her, closing my eyes.

  I felt her breath against my neck before she again asked, “Are you certain you trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  Two things happened at once: her stroking rhythm quickened, and I felt her open her mouth to bite me. My entire body went rigid with fear and pleasure. When the bite came, the orgasm overrode it, slamming into me and forcing my spine to bow against her body. My hips bucked forward and in one final stroke and cry, reality tumbled away.

  Lenorre loosened her grip in my hair and I swayed forward. She laughed softly, helping to guide me onto the pillows.

  I lay on my stomach and stared at her, body spent and mind cloudy. I reached up with an arm that still felt unreal and touched my neck, checking for blood. There was none. Her mouth was clean and perfect.

  “You didn’t bite me?”

  “I did not bite you hard enough to bleed you, no. You have said you are not ready.”

  I had, but it didn’t erase the fact that even that little bite had thoroughly rocked my world. Lenorre had thrown her power at me once. She had projected Zaphara’s feelings onto me, so that instead of her fangs buried in Zaphara’s skin, I had felt her fangs in mine. It occurred to me that was probably one of the reasons I was still hesitant about feeding her. In truth, I wasn’t ready. She knew it and I knew it. Lenorre also knew that if she pushed it, I’d resist even more.

  She traced the raven tattooed on my back, her nails tickling the swirling knot work decorating its body. I closed my eyes, relaxing. Her fingers brushed the tail feathers toward the base of my spine.

  “Have I told you how truly beautiful you are?” she asked and I opened my eyes to look at her.

  “Once,” I said, remembering. “At least, that I recall.”

  The corner of her mouth twitched. Her fingers brushed my ass as she smiled tenderly, head resting on her bent arm. “Have I told you that you are a thousand times more beautiful nude and in my bed?”

  I sat back on my heels and reached for her waistband. She rolled onto her back, allowing me to unhook her slacks. I pulled them down, revealing the black material stretched over the delicious mound of her. The slacks landed in a fall of cloth with the rest of our discarded clothes.

  I moved to kneel between her legs, kissing above the line of her undergarments.

  There was a knock on the door.

  I gave a low growl, lips trembling against Lenorre’s skin. I felt her body react to it.

  “Is it locked?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Should I stop so you can get it?” I inhaled deeply, trying to get a sense of who was knocking. Who did I get to be mad at?

  Regretfully, Lenorre nodded and I sat up. She grabbed two robes from the back of the closet door, shrugged into the black one, and handed me the dark green one that I often wore. I put it on, belting the waist.

  A moment before she opened the door, the smell of earth and forest, of another wolf, filled my senses. I could suddenly taste cool ginger on my tongue. Rosalin.

  Lenorre stepped back to admit her. Rosalin, being a lycanthrope, didn’t need to see the clothes on the floor or the messy covers and my hair to know what Lenorre and I had been doing. I expected her to comment or to at least smirk, but she didn’t. Her honey brown eyes looked serious.

  “Rupert is here,” she said. “He said he needs to speak to you. It’s urgent.”

  I blinked. “Urgent?”

  She nodded, auburn hair bobbing in its ponytail, and said to Lenorre, “He wants to speak to you as well.”

  “We will be up shortly.”

  Rosalin looked my way, an expression in her eyes I didn’t understand.

  “I’m sorry for interrupting,” she said. “Dinner is almost ready. I wouldn’t have disturbed you if Rupert hadn’t insisted.”

  “It’s okay, Ros.” I climbed off the bed. “What’s wrong?”

  She wouldn’t meet my gaze.

  I tried again. “Rosalin.”

  Lenorre gave her a quizzical look.

  Rosalin’s chest rose and fell unsteadily behind her pink T-shirt. Her eyes glistened with tears. I approached and touched her arm. A few months ago I’d accidentally claimed her as my wolf. It hurt to see her so sad and to not understand why. I didn’t think it was because of what Lenorre and I had been doing.

  “I hate holidays,” she said, words choked.

  I put my hands o
n her shoulders and pulled her into me. Rosalin’s arms slipped around my waist and I felt the sob go through her. She was a few inches taller than me, especially when I wasn’t wearing shoes, but I reached up anyway to stroke her hair.

  That one touch did it. Rosalin collapsed against me, holding on to me like she was drowning. We went to our knees on Lenorre’s carpeted floor. I held her body close. She clung to me.

  I looked at Lenorre, trying to ask her with my eyes if she had any idea what was wrong.

  Lenorre knelt beside us and caressed Ros’s hair. “The loss of your parents?”

  Rosalin buried her face in my shoulder. She fought the silent sobs long enough to say, “Yes.”

  Neither Lenorre nor I asked any more questions. We didn’t need to.

  I sat on the floor and held her. She’d lost both of her parents in a car accident when she was twenty-one. Some years had passed, but still, the loss was enormous. Her brother Henry was the only family she had aside from pack.

  Rosalin drew away from me, wiping her face with her shirt. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m keeping you from Rupert. I interrupted you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, but once I saw you—” She choked on a sob and buried her face in her hands. “Fuck! Why can’t I stop crying?”

  I kept a hand on her back, keeping her from drawing away completely. I felt the wolf inside me, saw her in my mind, eyes sad, ears lowered. I felt her sadness, her desire to comfort one of our own.

  Sighing, I held Ros close, brushing my cheek across hers in a gesture that was more wolf than human. Her tears were cool against my skin. I licked her face, taking in the salty sweetness of those tears. A great loneliness gripped my heart. I felt Rosalin’s need for comfort, a need so true and intense that it was like starving. Her pain hit me like a crashing wave.

  Lenorre touched my shoulder and I turned to look at her. She brushed her finger across my cheek and came away with a trembling teardrop. I hadn’t realized I was crying.

  I reached for her, my lover, and she came to me, pressing as much of her robed body as she could against mine while I held Rosalin. She encircled my waist with one arm and I wrapped an arm around her as well as Rosalin.