by Erin Hayes
That was the first moment I was grateful for Magnus. He'd managed to find a way to lay down some ground rules for the nasty bastard that might keep him at bay until I was off his radar for good. I might not have liked the options, but at least they seem to be working.
Several days crept by as I slopped about the apartment, eating everything in sight and downing crystal light and Gatorade by the bucket full. I was recovering nicely, although I still wouldn't look in the mirror. I was even beginning to think that I got off lucky; that Magnus had left me to hunt down a government job, to recruit a priestess, and that until those two things were accomplished, I need never see another vampire again. In fact, I even went through my bookshelf for vampire fiction and threw out every novel I found. The big purge gave me a sense of blissfully ignorant hope.
I planned to never accomplish those two tasks. I mean, really, all I had to do was argue that I couldn't find the woman he wanted, and since that was job number one I couldn't ever get to accomplish job number two. Thank God for my lazy nature, I was pretty good at finding loopholes that could get me out of work.
I was feeling pretty good about myself, except for the mirror thing, and even then I had a feeling that if I decided to take a peek, that the gallons of liquid and tons of food would have already brought my image back to something resembling humanity.
Chapter Seven
ONE MORE TIME WITH FEELING
I was brushing my hair in the mirror, admiring the renewed gloss when Gio finally came for me.
"Mi amore."
My skin prickled. I swung around to see him towering over me, his glistening black hair sweeping his cheeks in curls that would make a cherub envious. The gold flecks in his eyes sparked as he took me in.
"No," I said, flattening my back against the sink. "Not again."
My hands scrabbled behind me, searching for the hand towel rack I knew was there. I'd grab it. I'd swing around. I'd knock him against the goddamned undead temple.
"You would deny me, mi amore?" He reached for me, sweeping me into his arms and lifting me off my feet. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to shut him out. Even the way his chest felt against my breast was making my hands creep for his neck.
I bit my tongue to distract myself and he rumbled deep in his throat, a sound somewhere between a mix of moan and laughter.
"You're a wild one."
"Not wild enough, apparently," I said through tense lips. "Or you'd have a devil of a time controlling me."
"A man doesn't try to control a wildcat," he said. "He doesn't try to tame her."
"You're not a man."
"I was once a man." His fingers trailed behind the nape of my neck, moving up into my hair. "Isn't that enough for you?"
I knew he was moving, but I wouldn't open my eyes to see where he was taking me. I had the sinking feeling I would both love and hate it.
My resolve was evaporating. I buried my face in his chest as I felt him sit, adjusting me so that my legs fell over either side of his lap. He grabbed me from behind and scooped me closer so I could feel the erection already hardening beneath his jeans. Sweet Lord, if I had any brains at all, I would have soldered some sort of chastity belt around my hips; I just wasn't capable of preventing my traitorous clit from responding to him.
"What is it you want?"
"You know what that is." He tilted my face to his before he sent his thumbs sweeping across my eyelids.
I blinked and met his gaze. "I'm just barely recovered."
"That would be lovely, of course," he said, smiling with those chocolate orbs. "And I do want that... It tastes so very much like..."
"Like Chianti," I finished.
"You remembered." He sounded impressed, almost pleased. "Yes. Exactly like that. And we will share, mi amore, we will." He lowered his face to mine, waiting patiently for me to offer my lips to him. I couldn't stop myself from straining upward, letting him seal his mouth over mine.
He invaded me with his tongue in ways that reminded me of the most delicious oral delights possible. Each flick, each lick and suckle could have been his response to a hardened clit, a wet labia that he delighted in tasting. I couldn't help squirming beneath him. My mind flooded with lust. All I could process was the need to submit.
"You best at least fuck me if you want that Chianti," I said and he chuckled against my throat.
"Such cheap prices for such a vintage. You must make me barter for it, make me sacrifice."
I felt his teeth graze my skin, running from the bottom of my ear lobe down to my shoulder. I had the feeling he was teasing himself, drawing out the pleasure, torturing himself with delayed gratification. He ground my hips into his, forcing me to ride the length of him through our clothes until I begged him to fill me.
In one swift motion, I was under him. He ran his mouth along my jaw, using it as leverage to peel his pants away from his hips and pushed my night gown into a ball at my waist. He took me in one thrust that made me moan aloud. The sound of it seemed to drive him past his sense of restraint. The feel of his teeth raking my skin sent delicious shivers down my spine and only when he buried them into the hollow where my neck joined my shoulder was I able to stop trembling and meet him thrust for thrust.
It was as though he were priming a pump; with each plunge deeper into me, he drew hard on my shoulder, making the blood in my veins streak toward him. I could feel the blood leaving my extremities, traveling to my core, glutting my clitoris, and making it throb beneath his hips. And with each perfect movement of his member inside me, I raced toward climax, just as my blood raced in my veins, streaking toward his mouth. I felt at once like we were making one complete circuit and my body hummed with electricity. Each squeeze of my heart sounded in my ears, echoed between my legs until the sound of it, and the throbbing of it, became my entire universe.
My legs crept around him of their own accord, digging in for purchase as I met him thrust for thrust.
I knew when my body was reaching the point when he would draw too much blood. It seemed very much like every ounce of my fluid was collecting between my legs, that when I came all that blood would flush through me in one burst. I felt as though my clitoris was the only thing holding the dam back, that when it broke my entire circulatory system would flood his mouth and he would gulp down each greedy drop until there was nothing left and I was no more.
Even so, I couldn't stop the driving need to flush the dam free. I clutched at his shoulders, digging my fingers into the material of his shirt and clenching it like handles to pull him closer.
I shattered at the same moment I went limp.
I knew when he came because I felt the exquisite pain of his teeth leaving my veins, his head arched back as he let go a guttural groan that could have been a beast deep in a primeval forest. I stared at his lips, mesmerized by the foam of my blood on his mouth, unable to manage anything but the effort it took to inhale, struggling to make the effort to expel it. I could feel my veins burning as they dried and began to collapse into themselves. I found myself wondering if he had left anything. I imagined him like a greedy child, licking his plate clean.
His eyes fell level to mine as he licked the last remnants of my fluid from his mouth.
"I'm sorry, mi amore," he murmured. Though he sounded truly repentant, I couldn't help but feel as though it was the apology of an addict imagining his next indulgence.
I watched him swallow. His eyes closed in rapture of those last drops moving down his throat. I couldn't so much as roll over onto my side to pull down my nightgown. All I could do was lie there and watch him fall under the spell of his drug. His entire body softened and he collapsed next to me on the bed, one arm flung over my midriff.
I was left to wait for death with an ancient vampire lying stoned next to me. What a wondrous pair we would look if someone were to walk in. He with his jeans halfway down his legs, flung across my bed looking like a teenager tripping out on his first high, and me left so weak from the bloodletting that I could barely breathe my sha
llow inhalations, my nightgown up around my breasts, my legs splayed for the world to see. I spared a thought for the tangle of overgrowth that must be there and wished I'd had the energy before this to do some of that personal grooming. I hated to go to my ever after unwaxed and unshaved.
But there would be no intruder; I'd moved to the city to be with Rob when my mother passed away, and I had no friends here. No one to find me. No one to care. Only Rob the cheater and now he had his various whores to worry about.
I waited for what seemed like forever for the darkness to take me, and when it didn't, and the shadows on the wall shifted and indicated to me that time was moving closer to dawn, I began to believe I might have a chance. I told myself that if I lived, I'd find that job at the governor's office, I'd damn well stroll right back to that Haitian voodoo chick's costume rental shop and I'd throw that bone bracelet onto her counter and tell her that Bacalou wanted her. And I'd live, dammit. I'd live and I wouldn't let this happen to me again.
Gio had perfect timing. It was during the crux of this decision that he chose to come down from his high. He eased himself onto his elbow and stared down into my face.
"Such a vintage," he murmured, placing his fingertip against my jaw and easing my face to the side. I could tell he was inspecting the marks he'd left. They hurt when he touched them with his fingertip.
"You're mine," he said. "I very nearly lost myself for a moment, and in turn lost you." He ran his hands down my body, inspecting with his palm the give and rebound of my muscles. "It's a good thing I have such self-control.
"You're a tough one, mi amore. A rare find." He sounded impressed.
"Fuck you," I said, astounded at how gravelly it sounded.
He grinned. "Indeed," he said. "But you must be careful next time not to make me lose my head, or I won't be able to control myself so well."
The unmitigated gall of it. I would have spit in his face if I'd had the energy to gather the water.
He must have sensed my impotent fury because he patted me on the hip. "You'll recover." He scooped beneath my knees and eased me back up onto the bed, folding the blanket from the foot up over my hips. The action was so infuriatingly tender that I managed to find the wherewithal to snarl at him.
"Such a wild one." He pressed his lips onto the corner of my mouth. "It's been centuries since I've tasted your like."
He stood and buttoned his jeans as he looked down at me in contemplation. "Don't worry, mi amore. My seed inside you will be enough to restore you without tainting you. You will be better in a few days.
"I'll try harder next time," he said. "Perhaps we should have a safe word. Something to remind me I've gone too far."
"There won't be any fucking next time," I croaked out.
He quirked a black brow as though this were an astounding idea. "You would deny yourself?" He leaned over me and ran his cheek along mine.
"We both know you want me as badly as I want you."
I clenched my fists at my sides. "It's a reflex." I tried to squeeze my eyes shut. I couldn't. "You're like a heartbeat," I said. "And I think about you just as much."
His thumb ran over my lips. "Interesting reflex to choose, mi amore." He tucked the blankets around me. "It will be a few hours before you begin to feel better. Stay warm. I'll be back to see you when I can."
He swirled away like he'd come and I was left to lie in the dimly lit room and wait for the shadows to shift to morning. As exhausted as I was, as spent, I thought I would fall into a coma-like sleep. But I was painfully aware of every moment passing. At some point just before dawn, I heard my apartment door open and I cringed into the sheets, thinking it was Gio returning.
I heard my name being called. Magnus. Great. Two vampire suitors in one night and not enough blood to make me blush. He burst through my bedroom with hot as hell Sam trailing behind him like a wake of water.
"I have your recruiter," Magnus said. His jaw line wore stubble and his cobalt gaze regarded me with what seemed to be accusation. I rolled my eyes. I just didn't have the energy for this complete batshit craziness.
"I brought him so you can decide his fate."
I tried to wave them both away, but Magnus took a stance that reminded me of a Viking about to suffer a hissy fit. I managed to giggle.
"Jade. Do you want him to live?"
At the words, Sam came to life. "I was just doing my job," he said. "Like I've done every week for the last five years."
Magnus eyed him silently until he clamped his mouth closed. Then he turned to me again.
"Sam is our best recruiter," he said. "What do you want me to do with him?"
A little chirp of fear came from Sam's direction.
I was stupefied, and I must've shown it. Magnus eased closer to the bed, suspicious. "What's wrong?" He leaned over me, touching my neck with his fingers. He leaned in toward my throat and inhaled as though he was scenting me.
"You've been bitten." His tone went flat. I couldn't do much more than nod in confirmation.
Rage took him and he flew to Sam, grabbing him by the shirt with both hands and lifting him off his feet. I watched, entranced as Sam kicked at empty air. As though Sam were nothing more than a haunch of meat, Magnus twisted that beautiful neck into a straining arch and tore into his throat. I watched as the great muscles worked to swallow the stream of blood that gushed forth.
My stomach recoiled, pushing bile up into my throat. I tried to scrabble from the bed but met a solid cement wall of unmoving muscle. The Viking glowered down at me.
"Is this what you want, Jade?" He shook Sam at me, the blood drooling down the poor boy's chest. "Is this what you're after?" Magnus pushed Sam's neck against my mouth. "Drink, then. Taste it. See what your sustenance will be like for the next eternity."
Chapter Eight
GOOD TO THE LAST DROP
I barely had the energy to twist away, and I found myself sobbing beneath Sam's corpse. I felt his blood trickling down my neck, and tasted it on my tongue. I spit it out, spluttering and trying to wipe the back of my hand across my mouth.
Magnus caught my wrist with his free hand as he flung Sam behind him. His eyes had gone red, his teeth straining for me as he lowered his face to mine. I shrieked and kicked and spluttered as that mouth locked on mine. His tongue entered me, laving away each drop of coppery fluid, stroking across my palate.
As quickly as his mouth touched mine, it lifted, and I realized that Magnus was on the other side of the room, Sam at his feet in a puddle of blood. The vampire was trembling, but I couldn't tell if it was from any emotion other than pure rage. I shrank into the bed, pulling my knees up to my chin.
"I told you to use the silver," he said. "I told you to push it into his skin. Where is it? Where is the chain?"
I shook my head. "I don't know."
"You don't know? How could you be so stupid?" He began prowling the room, knocking things over, pulling open drawers. At one point he came close to the drawer where I'd hidden the bracelet, but before he had a chance to yank it open, I shouted at him.
"It's in the bathroom."
He whirled toward me. With a scathing look, he strode from my bedroom and disappeared into the tiny cubicle. I heard him upending baskets of personal grooming products. He came back out holding the chain from the end of my toothbrush. He tossed it at me.
"Put it on."
I looped it over my neck without protest. He grunted his approval. While neither one of us would spare an eye for Sam's body where it lay crumpled next to my bureau, it was evident that one of us would have to mention it. I licked my lips tentatively. The metallic taste of blood filled my senses as my tongue found a smear Magnus had left when he kissed me. He'd kissed me. I was still reeling from the shock of it. Either that, or I was dizzy from the lack of blood. That was it. Lack of blood. I'd forgotten for a moment that an infatuated ancient vampire had nearly drained me again.
"You can't leave him here," I said, testing the waters.
Magnus toed Sam with a shoe tip
. I found it peculiar trying to match up the image of a Viking with such civilized things as shoes. But then, I was struggling with a lot of things.
Without a word, he reached down and picked Sam up with one hand and flung him over his shoulder. He looked sideways at me, almost as though he wanted to say something. I swallowed, waiting. Instead, it took three or four steps toward my bureau drawer where I'd thrown the bracelet. He opened it. Reached in. I heard a jangling in his hand as he turned it over, inspecting it. This too he threw at me.
"I'm here for another week. Bring the priestess to me."
Instead of heading for the apartment door, he moved toward the window and despite it being locked, opened easily. The breeze moved the curtains and reached out for me, making the hairs on my arm rise.
There was one more thing. I couldn't let him go until he explained it.
"He said his..." I felt the burning shame creep up my neck as he twisted round to see me. "He said his seed would...it would..."
"Jade."
Although he was at least six feet away, I could swear I felt his hand on my hip.
"You don't have to say. I can guess. He said it would help you recover."
"Yes. And he said that..."
"Yes?"
"... That it would keep my blood from being tainted."
Instead of looking at him, because I couldn't, I couldn't meet those knowing eyes– I studied my fingers as they twisted together in my lap. "What does that mean?"
He sighed. "It means if he gave you his blood to heal you, then you would be like us, and he could no longer visit you in the same capacity."