Rigel shrugged. His hand rested on Marina’s shoulder and she glanced up at him, smiling. He didn’t look down at her, but he straightened a little, self-consciously. Selene had seen that response too many times not to understand it. So Rigel. . .well, it was none of Selene’s business.
Her chest ached, her ribs squeezed mercilessly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Dammit, Nikolai, if you’ve made me an enemy out of one of your own thralls it’ll be the last straw. Why do you do things like this?
“It wasn’t your fault,” Marina said briskly. “Now you just rest. Jorge will bring breakfast, and I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry. When Nikolai rises tonight. . .” She trailed off, looking across the room as if struck by a new thought.
Selene realized the velvet hung on the walls was probably covering windows. “The windows,” she managed through her clumsy lips. “Sunlight. Open the windows. Please.”
Marina leaned over. Her hand left Selene’s forehead, she lifted up Selene’s top lip and checked her teeth.
Selene thrashed up, teeth snapping together. Rigel tore Marina back, both of them falling on the floor as Selene flopped down on the bed, the covers flung back. Her body literally wouldn’t obey her. The medallion was icy against her chest. She heard a long low hiss, like a kettle whistling with steam. Is that me? Am I making that noise? What is happening to me?
“Ow!” the healer yelled at the same time, and the sound of her landing cut off the cry midway. Selene lay against the pillows, dimly aware she was snarling, a low thrumming sound coming from her chest. Silk strained against her chill clammy skin—the sheets and a black silk nightgown. Nichtvren have a thing for silk, Selene thought dimly, and coughed again, rackingly. Her ribs twisted, and she heard crackling. Bones, re-forming.
Panic slammed through her, all her muscles contracting at once. No. Please, no, tell me it’s not happening. Please, no. I don’t want to be a sucktooth.
Rigel appeared. He bent down and helped the healer to her feet, hugged her, his dark eyes never leaving Selene. “All right then, love?” he asked her, his accent wearing through the words. “Rina?”
“Fine.” Marina pushed her hair back, glancing up at him. “Just a bit shaken, that’s all. Help me.” She started forward, but Rigel almost lifted her off her feet and stepped back, quickly. Her dress swung with her. He set her down on her bare feet gently, reluctantly.
“You’re not going near her. Look at her. She’s Turning. Go get Nikolai.”
“Open the drapes,” Selene whispered. I was trying to take her finger off. I wanted to bite her—oh, God. God, please—“Please. God. . .help me. Please!” Begging again, God help me.
The healer tried to shake free of Rigel again, he pulled her back.
Selene coughed again, a dry deep hacking sound. Thirsty. Something was creeping through the horrible weakness that lay on her body—a kind of slow twisting fire. And with the fire rose the thirst. I’m thirsty. So thirsty. Parched.
“Let go, Rigel.” The healer’s soft voice demanded obedience. “She won’t hurt me. I order you to let go of me.”
Silence ticked through the room. Selene’s body jerked and twisted. “Open. . .the. . .fucking. . .blinds. . .”
Rigel slowly released the healer. His lean dark face was blank. “Be careful, love.” His voice was husky. “Please.”
Marina shook free of him, smoothing her robe down. “I can’t open the blinds.” Her voice seemed to make the slow creeping fire a little less. “You’re too far gone. Sunlight will hurt you, might even kill you. You’re very weak.”
I don’t fucking care, if I’m weak it will be mostly painless, just open the goddamn motherfucking blinds! “Open. . .the. . .blinds. . .”
“Get my bag, Rigel,” Marina snapped, and stepped close to the bed. She leaned down, caught one of Selene’s wrists, and Selene froze. The healer’s skin felt scorching-hot against hers.
Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud.
The sound drove into Selene’s head.
Her heartbeat, it’s her pulse, oh my God, I’m Turning. “The windows,” Selene gasped. “Sun—let the sun in.”
“You’ll die.” The healer’s fingers were skilled and gentle. Rigel dropped a small black bag onto the bed and tore it open—it was the kind of bag physicians used to carry a long time ago. “Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t lost a patient yet, and I’m not about to start with you.”
Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud.
Selene’s body lifted on its own, arching between her heels and the crown of her head without any direction from her, dropped. “Hold her,” Marina snapped at Rigel, who pushed Selene’s shoulders down. He was stronger than he looked, even wounded. His hands bit her shoulders, bruisingly hard. Fire twisted through her bones, racing toward her heart, reshaping crackling bone and sliding muscle in its wake. Her heels scrabbled weakly at the sheets as she bucked, trying to slip out of his grasp.
Marina’s hands were quick and deft, tying something around Selene’s arm and subtracting a hypodermic from her bag. “Hold her, she’s going to thrash.”
“Nikolai won’t like this,” Rigel said darkly.
“If she Turns now she’ll be crippled, even with steady infusions of his blood. She’s too weak. I know what I’m doing.” Marina’s long dark hair fell down, tickling Selene’s arm, and she slapped the hypo on. “Hold her!” Marina snapped the tourniquet off, and a bolt of cold agony shot up Selene’s arm.
Selene screamed. The medallion gave a livid flare, and blue sparks flew.
The door flew open, hitting the wall and splintering. Jorge strode into the room, and Rigel’s hands left Selene’s shoulders. The healer looked up, Selene’s body twisted helplessly. Thundering, thundering, the healer’s pulse had barely altered, as if she wasn’t holding down a struggling almost-Turned Nichtvren.
“Stop it!” Marina yelled, her eyes flaring with violet light. The entire room shook, velvet and silk billowing and snapping in the sudden breeze. “Jorge, don’t be an idiot, haul your Polish ass over here and help me! Rigel, dammit, let go of him!”
Selene rolled onto her side. Marina had both her hands, fingers laced together and straining as bones cracked. Marina grimaced, her long hair falling forward as she climbed up on the bed, her knees on either side of Selene’s hips. She leaned down, pushing Selene back, holding her hands, and was soon nose-to-nose with her. The healer’s skin was fine and clear, her eyes glowing bright blue. Those eyes seemed to bore into Selene’s skull. Heat slid from the healer’s palms into hers, a soothing human heat.
“It’s all right, Selene,” she said, softly, as if she hadn’t been screaming at the two thralls a moment ago. “I’m here. Squeeze my hands. It will hurt, but I’m here with you.”
Selene stared at her. Kill me. Let me die. Let me go so he can’t hurt me anymore. “Open. . .the. . .shades,” she whispered. “Please.”
“In a minute.” The healer kissed Selene’s sweat-slick forehead, a gentle clean touch. “The enzyme will start to work, and you’ll be drained afterwards. It’s all right. Shhh, hush, it’s all right.” Her lips were warm. She kept talking, soothing little nonsense phrases, her voice full of a deep smooth Power that caught and held, mesmerized Selene. It was a thin thread, that Power, holding her to sanity while the Turn fought with the enzyme treatment for control of her body.
Selene’s body arched. It was cold, it raced up her arm and hit the rest of her bloodstream like a mass of ice spikes, tearing through muscle and nerves. In the wake of the crashing ice, the familiar bite of desire came, an old enemy she could never shake.
I’d rather be dead than go on living like this. But the pain rose again and Selene sobbed out a broken breath. She had a revenge to accomplish, Danny’s killer to track down. There was time for death later, wasn’t there?
Wasn’t there?
The shudders passed, the convulsions lessening. The healer stayed with her the entire time, her eyes never leaving Selene’s, her voice holding the tantraiiken to sanity whi
le her body threw off the changes Nikolai’s blood had produced.
Marina finally looked up. Her hair fell forward, brushing Selene’s face, enfolding her with the smell of violets and white mallow. “Right. That’s better.” She cleared her throat. “Will you two please wait outside?”
Selene saw Jorge’s face, chalky-pale. “What have you done?” He sounded like a little boy caught in a terrible nightmare.
Rigel stood in front of Jorge, his arm extended. The gun was absolutely steady, pointed at Jorge’s face. “The lady said to wait outside. Let’s go, old chap. Nice and easy. We’ll have some coffee.”
Jorge nodded. His hands trembled slightly “I’m sorry, Selene,” he said, pointlessly. His dark eyes never left Rigel’s face. “Nikolai will—”
“If I would have let her Turn she would have been crippled, I’ve seen it before. I’m the professional here, you hunk of brainless muscle. Just go.” The healer’s hair brushed Selene’s face.
Selene bit back a moan.
The two men left, Rigel holstering his gun. Jorge said something in a low tone, and Rigel replied in an equally soft voice. “Nothing personal, old son.”
Marina waited until the door was closed. They had to rattle it to get it closed all the way, and the healer sighed. “Men.” She looked back down at Selene, who was writhing against the sheets. “Driven by their crotches or their testosterone. They never think.”
“I’m. . .tantraiiken,” Selene gasped. Her body writhed, betraying her again. “I’m. . .sorry.”
“It’s all right.” The healer leaned down, kissed her cheek. Ice slid through Selene’s fingers, spread down her legs, and her muscles unlocked. The sound of the healer’s pulse receded, faded altogether.
Selene realized she was squeezing the healer’s hands as hard as she could. She tried to make her fingers unlock, couldn’t. “My hands.”
“Just relax,” the healer replied. “It’s the enzyme. Partial paralysis in the extremities is normal. It will pass in a few moments. Breathe, Selene. Look at me. Breathe.”
She did. The healer’s hands were no longer scorching-hot. Instead, they were only warm. Marina’s breath brushed her cheek. She smiled, looking down. It was a human smile, and Selene felt relief spill out into her chest with the ice.
A human smile. Not like Nikolai’s good-natured grin or chilling little grimaces. Human. Whatever else she was, the healer was also blessedly human, and she was kind. She’d stopped Selene from Turning, and that put her number one on the list of Selene’s favorite people just at the moment.
Her body strained again, arching up, and the healer rocked back a little, pressing her back down. “Good girl,” she murmured. “That’s it. Just try to breathe. I should have given you the enzyme sooner, but I didn’t think you were so far gone. He must have been coaxing you along for a while now, bringing you into the Twilight. Ah, well, hindsight’s twenty-twenty, isn’t it?” She looked thoughtful, chewing at her full bottom lip with small white teeth.
The Twilight? “I’ve never seen you before,” Selene said. “What. . .”
“I direct the Free Clinic downtown,” the healer replied. “But only for the past six months. I tried to negotiate entry into Nikolai’s territory and had to wait for a while. I was living down the coast, in Altamira.”
So that’s who she is, I’ve heard of her. How did she get here? “You’re the one that—”
Marina nodded. “I was the Prime of Altamira’s prize pet for a long time. I understand, Selene. Truly, I do. Now just relax. I’ll answer all your questions later.” She cocked her head, watching Selene’s face. “You’ll need to feed when this is done,” she said, softly. “I know you’re tantraiiken. It doesn’t bother me. Do you want me to call one of the thralls, or—”
“No!” It burst out of Selene. If she had to lay under one of Nikolai’s thralls. . . “Please.”
Marina nodded. “I’ll stay,” she said, and smiled. “It should be quite an experience.” Her hair brushed Selene’s face, drenched her in that soothing violet-musk smell. Selene shut her eyes, trying to breathe deeply, failing.
Gradually the ice retreated, and breathing became easier. She also found Marina was right—wherever the ice receded, a different kind of fire began. She stayed still for as long as she could, but her body betrayed her yet again, her hips rocking upwards slightly, pleading. She was wet, and now her skin felt as if it was dipped in warm oil.
The healer slowly slid her hands free. Selene’s fingers curled into fists.
“Now,” Marina breathed. “You need to feed. Have you ever had a sedayeenen before?”
Eight
Tears started behind Selene’s eyelids. Her entire body was limp, drained: her heart was now thundering behind her ribs. Her entire body ached savagely, overstrained, but the ache just made the slick dampness between her legs worse. “N-n-no,” she whispered. “Never.” I never have.
The healer slid to the side and balanced on her knees on the bed, then moved slightly. Selene didn’t dare look. Velvet brushed Selene’s bare arm, then the healer lowered herself down and pulled the covers up, and took Selene in her arms. She was smooth and warm, soft, breasts and hips like Selene’s own pressing against the slick silk of the nightgown.
She’s naked. I don’t even know her. I never get to know them, the ones I have to feed the curse with.
“This might be difficult for you,” the healer said, quietly. “I don’t have to fight my gift. But a tantraiiken. . .it’s hard for you.”
Selene’s face pressed into the soft hollow under the healer’s chin. Marina’s fingers stroked her sweating back, the silk sticking to Selene’s skin. Violets, spice, musk, and the smell of female; Selene had rarely used a woman for this. Most women didn’t understand.
“Nikolai,” she heard herself say. “He’ll—”
The healer laughed. “He’ll what? Probably want to watch. Or join in.” Her fingers continued their slow, even massage, and Selene felt her body unstringing, muscles relaxing, the heat rising between her legs. The nightgown stuck and slid—she wanted it off.
“I need to take this thing off,” she found herself saying. “Please.”
“There’s a lacing on the back.” Incredibly, the healer giggled. Her body moved against Selene’s, Selene caught her breath. Warm flesh and the curves that were so like her own, a comfort in the middle of the minefield of need and desire.
The healer’s breathing was a little faster now, and she worked on the nightgown’s laces. “I feel like a teenager again,” she murmured, and Selene tentatively touched her hip, smoothing her fingers over satiny skin.
“Did you. . . while you were a teenager?” Christos knows I did. Selene’s throat was blocked. She felt weak, her hands limp and her legs heavy, but the fire demanded that she move, that she touch the woman, find out what would make her respond, what would feed the curse.
“I did my fair share of experimenting. I was raised by Nichtvren, the Prime of Altamira took me when I was five. It does give one a different view of sex.” There was laughter in her husky voice, covering a deep sadness in the well of her calm. Then the nightgown loosened. “There. I think that should do it. Help me, if you can, Selene. Lift your hips up—good. There. Now your arm.”
It was as if she was a child again, being dressed by someone else. Or undressed. Her head was clearing rapidly. Raised by Nichtvren? My God. “Nikolai tried to Turn me?”
Marina ran her hand down Selene’s ribs, her fingers leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. The gasping, electric sense of Power that Nikolai carried was very different from this gentleness. “It was a consideration. Mostly, he just wanted to give you enough strength to survive. The healing properties of Nichtvren blood—” The healer kissed her cheek, her lips sliding against the sweat slicking Selene’s entire body. Then her hand slid between Selene’s legs. “Listen to me lecture. Don’t think about that now, just feed. You need it.” Two of her slender, tapered fingers slid into the aching, throbbing need. Marina’s thumb sta
rted a slow, even circling, and Selene’s entire body jerked.
Marina laughed. It was a beautiful, husky sound. “Sometimes it takes another woman,” she said, softly, breathlessly, and her eyes met Selene’s, half-closed with pleasure. It was as if she anticipated what Selene needed, her fingers moving a split-second before Selene even thought to ask.
The healer’s mouth met hers, a cool lipsticked kiss; Selene moaned, pleading. Marina’s thumb moved fractionally faster, paused, and scraped down hard over the sharp swollen throbbing point.
Selene’s body exploded. The first climax hit her, she half-screamed into Marina’s mouth and the healer’s delicious, wicked stroking went on. Power sparked and crackled between them, a violet glow instead of Nikolai’s hard gasflame blue.
“There. Isn’t that better?” Marina chuckled gently.
Selene found she had wound her fingers in Marina’s long hair and was kissing the taller woman’s chin and cheek and throat, frantically, pleading, making soft little noises in the back of her throat. Marina’s dark-blue eyes were half-closed, heavy-lidded. Does she look at Rigel that way? The thought drifted across Selene’s mind, she did her best to push it away.
She could feel another riptide of Power, but it was going in the opposite direction. The healer was feeding too, in a different way. A perfect match. She was raised by Nichtvren, what does she know? What was that like, for her?
The Power sparked, building, and her hips rocked forward. Marina kissed her again, a little harder, using her teeth to pull in Selene’s bottom lip and scrape across sensitive flesh.
It’s like kissing myself. The second climax slammed into her, nerves twisting and screaming. The need retreated more quickly than it ever had.
Marina slipped her fingers free with one last twist, making Selene shudder. “Now rest.” She slid her arms around Selene and held her close, breasts pressing together, the other woman’s nipples hard as her own, her flesh soft and blessedly human. Their legs tangled together. After a little bit of rearranging, Selene found her head on Marina’s shoulder, Marina’s arm around her, the healer’s dark hair tangled with her own blonde. The comfort made Selene drowsy, luxuriating in the absence of pain and the aftermath of a full feeding.
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