by Linda Wisdom
“Takes the life force,” Nick murmured to himself. “Blood. He is taking our blood.” His eyes briefly glowed red. “That can only mean he’s taking our blood to sustain his own life.”
“Then why does it state it will take a shadow to kill him? Don’t you all go poof when you lose all your blood like you do if someone stakes you in the heart or cuts off your head?”
“Something I really don’t like to think about since none of those options appeal to me,” he said dryly. “Many think that taking a vampire’s blood is a cure for disease and even more think it can extend their lives. That appears to be happening here.”
“It does if the vampire bites the human first, almost drains them dry then urges the victim to drink from them.” Jazz wrinkled her nose. “They wake up as night people on an eternal liquid diet. Personally, the idea of giving up chocolate and coffee for life is enough to keep me out of that non-lifestyle.”
Nick shook his head as he searched his memory for whispers of stories told long ago, tales he would not have thought of until now. He would have to contact Flavius. As an Elder in the Protectorate he would know all the legends, fact and fiction. The Elders enjoyed stirring up old tales every decade or so because it kept the mortals from truly knowing what walked their streets after dark.
“We need to speak to Flavius.” He felt her withdrawal the moment the words left his lips. “Don’t give me that look. He might be able to make sense of the riddle where we can’t. He’s existed longer than both of us together.”
“Really? Then I’m surprised they asked for my help,” she said with a touch of snark.
“It doesn’t hurt to ask.”
“He’s an Elder, Nick. He’ll only take what I learned and pass it on to the Protectorate. He won’t tell us a thing.”
“And why shouldn’t he do what is right? It’s my kind in peril, not yours!” he shouted. “My kind who have vanished while yours have no fear of being hunted like animals and, for all we know, treated like nothing more than a food source.”
Okay, now she was mad. “No fear of being hunted? What do you call the bloody Inquisition in 1233? How about Salem in 1692? While your kind hid in the shadows, mine were dragged out into the light, burned at the stake, pressed to death, stoned, tied to horses, and torn apart like a piece of meat!” She advanced on him, her fury a living thing. Thunder echoed overhead. “And along with my sisters were innocents unjustly accused just because they happened to be different. Is that a wart on your nose? You must be a witch!” She planted her palms against his chest and shoved. He fell back a step. “You take walks in the moonlight? You must be a witch! You have red hair. You must be a witch!” She started to push him again, but this time he grabbed her wrists and held them tightly. She struggled but was no match for his superior strength. “While vampires creep along the shadows, preying on whomever they wish, sometimes erasing their victims’ memories of the encounters. While vampires treat many innocents like a damn food source.” Her words tasted bitter on the tongue.
“I have not crept in the shadows for over nine hundred years,” he said tightly. “You want to compare horror stories? I can do that, too. So let’s just agree that both of our kind have had it rough.” He tightened his hold on her wrists. “We have survived, Jazz. That is what counts. We have made our way in the world as best we could.”
She tipped her head back, inhaling the earthy scent she always associated with him. She looked up into his face that showed arrogance with a rare vulnerability peeking out.
“Why couldn’t you stay out of my life?” Her cry carried centuries of memories, centuries of love-making, and centuries of pain. “I’ve made a good life here. I have everything I need.” She did not move away as he once again wrapped his arms around her and his hand crept up to curve around the back of her neck, gently rubbing the exposed skin.
“I can’t stay out of your life anymore than you can stay out of mine,” he murmured close to her ear.
“We are bad for each other,” she whispered.
“We are very good together,” he corrected.
“For one night, maybe. You rock my world then next thing I know I’m pulled into whatever rogue vampire caper you’re investigating, and I somehow end up in jail because you claim you’re protecting me even if it sure doesn’t sound like protection to me. Like that time I got thrown in a cell with that shape-shifter and almost ended up a full moon snack. There are times I’ve really hated you.” Her anger had been replaced with sorrow for what had been, what she knew would happen if she allowed Nick fully back into her life, and what could happen if they did go up against Clive Reeves and lost the battle.
Even if she didn’t have the gift of Second Sight she could see the time coming when the dying man she comforted would be Nick. Except, in the end, all she’d have would be a handful of dust and no chance to say what she truly felt.
She opened her mouth to tell him just that, but he made the first move.
His mouth covered hers pulling her breath from her lungs. Even if his skin couldn’t generate heat, hers could and did. The surface of her skin warmed under his touch as her blood raced in her veins, giving him what he lacked.
“Don’t say a word,” he whispered into her mouth. “Just feel.”
And feel she did. Jazz looped her arms around Nick’s neck, aligning her body against his when he bent at the knees enough that she could feel the heaviness of his erection nestled in the cradle of her hips. She pushed back, wanting more—needing more. When he straightened up, keeping her in his arms, she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips.
No amount of chocolate could equal the taste that spelled Nick in big block letters.
He walked them over to the table and set her down on the top. She didn’t bother to unwind her legs from his waist. Having him against her, feeling his desire for her was just too good.
“You are my sun. My warmth,” he said against her lips, trailing his fingers along the waistband of her jeans then moving them upward under her hoodie. His fingertips traced her bright yellow bra’s lace band then edged under it to trail across the curve of her breast before he pushed up the fabric and covered her breast with his palm. His skin was cool against hers but no less arousing. He pressed his palm over the plump flesh, feeling the increasing respiration. “Your heart beats fast for me, Griet of Ardglass,” he murmured, finding her lips again, parting them with his tongue, sinking into her taste, the smell of her skin, the very essence that once fore-told she was the woman for him.
For eons, witches and vampires fought each other. Their battles were conducted tastefully with no bloodshed. Never a truce was sought and it was understood among all that never the twain would meet.
Until the night Nikolai Gregorivich attended a party in Venice in the guise of a wealthy Slavic merchant while he investigated an Italian vampire’s bloodthirsty reign. With the approval of the Protectorate he had executed the vampire, and then to his own surprise and hers, had swept a saucy copper-haired witch off her feet and into his bed.
Nick had never been a witch’s lover before that night nor had he sought another after. He felt it was because Jazz always caused so much turmoil in his usually well-ordered existence that he couldn’t imagine having all the ups and downs with someone else. Plus he felt that any other would be found seriously lacking.
He pulled her closer to him, smoothing his hands along her denim-covered thighs until he reached the juncture. She uttered a soft mewling sound as he ran his fingertip up the zipper until he reached the tab. He slowly lowered it, nudging his fingers inside to find silk fabric. He didn’t need to see them to know her panties were the same bright yellow as her bra. His sun. His light.
“It is only the two of us here under the night sky.” He ran his mouth along the exposed skin just above the hoodie’s neckline, pushing her hair aside to kiss the delicate surface along her neck.
He used two fingers to push aside the silk and delve into her, finding her wet and welcoming. Her inner muscles co
ntracted around him.
“It’s been too long, Jazz,” he whispered, finding the small nub and rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.
She dug her nails into his shoulders as she lifted her butt off the table to keep the tension as tight as possible, but he felt no pain from the tiny wounds she inflicted. He tore the waistband tab open and lifted her up enough to push down her jeans. A flick of his fingers and the ribbons at her hips were loosened, revealing skin that was now flushed pink with arousal. He dipped his head, finding the small mole seemingly purposely placed just above the crisp red hairline.
“Mark of the witch,” he murmured against her skin.
She jerked under his touch and cried out.
“Nick!” She pulled at his shoulders, drawing him back up to her. The moment his head lifted, she reached for his waistband, her nails tearing at the fly.
Not that he was complaining, since he needed her as much as she needed him.
He shoved down his jeans, grasped her hips and brought her onto him.
She cried out in pleasure as his cock stretched her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, arching up as he bore down.
Jazz vaguely heard Nick’s rough voice mutter words in his native tongue. No translation was needed. She imagined she could read them inside her mind.
He filled her as no other man ever had, aroused her to the point where pain and pleasure mingled in a rush of heat. She tunneled her hands under his shirt, enjoying the feel of his smooth muscular skin. She felt his muscles ripple and tighten under her palms and his back bow as she lowered one hand to caress the dip in his spine. As she pressed down with her fingertips, she felt his body tighten.
It had been so long for them and she knew they were too close to hold back.
“Show me the moon,” she whispered. “And I’ll show you the sun.”
Nick’s thrusts increased their intensity with Jazz arching to meet them. She felt the ripples of her orgasm increase until they shot through her like lightning. As she looked up at the velvet black sky and screamed his name she knew she saw fireworks.
Yet she also felt the tickle of magick being worked around her. She could have sworn she felt eyes watching their intimate activity. She shivered at the thought and Nick misinterpreted her movement as a reaction to their unleashed passion. He swept her into his arms and all thoughts of a voyeur were banished from her mind as he kissed her into oblivion.
Fourteen
The night the lights went out in Georgia.” Jazz’s smile broadened in a face alight with post-coital bliss. “Look at us. We almost did it again.” She rested her forehead against his chest. “Mmm, you don’t expect me to move, do you? Because right now I’m not sure I can move a muscle even if this table is really cold on my ass.”
“And such a lovely ass you have too.” He rested his chin on top of her head, occasionally dropping a kiss in the coppery strands. “So you think that was our absolute best?”
She wiggled her bare butt against the table, smiling as his cock thickened and lengthened within her. There was certainly something about a vampire’s recuperative powers that appealed to her love for multiple orgasms. She automatically tightened her inner muscles, pulsing around him and urging him for more. His growl of pleasure was all she needed to tighten them again.
When his mouth hovered over the vein in her neck, she automatically moved her face away.
“Why ruin a perfectly good moment? Fangs and witches don’t mix, remember?” She buried her face against his shirtfront, inhaling the scent of his cologne mixed with his personal scent.
He settled for pressing a kiss along the sweet spot behind her ear. She shivered under his touch. “I don’t know. We seem to mix quite well.” He rotated his hips, finding another sweet spot that brought a gasp to her lips. He carefully bit down on her ear lobe, making sure not to break the skin. She moaned, lifting her hips to push back. He inhaled the scent of arousal skimming along her skin, her blood running hotly beneath the surface—and regretfully backed off before he was drawn more to her blood than to her body. Sharing of blood was a potent aphrodisiac between vampires but went the other way when one of the partners was a witch. He and Jazz had treaded that fine line for years and veering off wasn’t an option. “I fit so well within you,” he murmured, thrusting inside her slow and deep, wanting to savor her every countermovement.
He drove in deep and stilled, feeling her contract around him with a possessive grip.
He leaned back just enough to see her face. A peachy flush lit up her skin leaving her moss green eyes round and luminous with desire. She panted lightly as she looked up at him.
“Don’t stop now,” she purred, reaching down, her delicate hand cupping his sacs and squeezing oh so gently but with enough pressure to make him hiss. He didn’t need any type of reflection to know his eyes glowed a dark red.
He quickened his thrusts, gripping her hips tightly until he felt his orgasm rise up and seem to explode out of his head. If he hadn’t held on to Jazz, she would have been pushed off the table and possibly straight off the roof.
Nick lifted his head, blood red eyes glowing, fangs flashing white as he roared with exultation. After that, all he could do was wrap his arms around her as she fought to regain her breath.
So many times their encounters had been hot and fast, the desire between them so strong there could be no leisurely lovemaking, just raw animal mating. This time was no different and no less intense.
Except once their hot blood cooled and reason returned, something always happened.
He never told Jazz nor, it appeared, did she realize that the times in the past when he arranged to have her arrested on false charges were actually for her own good. Each of those times he was involved in cases where his prey was dangerous and insane to the point they would have retaliated by striking back at him through her. Of course, if he had explained his reasons to her back then, she would have accused him of lying and conjured up a stake.
Jazz’s personality was one that burned bright and hot. She attracted men to her like moths to a flame. Some of those men had not taken rejection kindly. Others suspected there was more to her than met the eye. He knew she was well able to take care of herself, but there were times he still felt she needed help and he was willing to give it, whether she wanted it or not.
The Protectorate always provided a secure identity for him and his guise as a police inspector or detective from another country allowed him freedom to hunt the ones he was sent to find. The fact that Jazz was sometimes in the same city and they usually managed to find each other wasn’t always a good thing because he might not be able to offer her the protection she needed if his work turned more dangerous than anticipated. He preferred to fabricate false charges against Jazz and keep her out of harm’s way. He knew his witch too well. She would have been right in the midst of battle fighting by his side instead of retreating to a safe place.
While he would prefer her to be fighting with him rather than against him, he refused to be the one who would cause any harm to her or worse. The wrath of the Witches’ High Council would be minor compared to what he would do to himself if anything happened to her.
He nosed her hair, inhaling the lemon scent. Tart. Like her.
“Uh, Nick.” Jazz’s voice was muffled against his shirtfront. “While you don’t feel temperatures, I do, and this table is bloody freezing. My ass is turning into an ice cube.”
He chuckled, but obliged by stepping back. Forgetting his jeans were around his ankles, he stumbled, not displaying his grace in movements. Jazz giggled as she slid off the table and rearranged her clothing. She laughingly flashed him her breasts as she pulled her bra down and then her hoodie. She pulled her scrunchie out of her drooping ponytail, raked her fingers through her hair and secured it again.
She looked over her shoulder at the gooey mess that was once her large cup of Diet Coke and funnel cake that was now splattered on the rooftop.
“I’m not cleaning that up.” She heaved a deep
sigh when Nick shot her a look. “Sure, let the witch do the domestic work,” she muttered, zapping the cup and funnel cake into a trashcan set near the Emergency Exit.
Nick crooked his arm around her neck and brought her back against his side.
“It appears there’s a celebration somewhere,” he said, pointing beyond the pier. They sat down on the edge of the roof, Jazz settled in comfortably between Nick’s legs with his arms looped around her waist, their legs dangling off the building.
Jazz’s face lit up as the sky seemed to explode with multi-colored sparkles. The crackling sound of fireworks echoed in the air, prompting people below to stop and watch the show.
“And here I thought I only imagined them,” she whispered.
“We need to find a way to get onto the mansion grounds,” Nick said as they took the stairs down to his office with the intention of heading to the basement slash Civil Defense Shelter slash Nick’s apartment. He still felt the tingling remnants of their lovemaking. He thought about an encore in the large bed that dominated his place. Then he saw the look on her face.
The moment had been lost.
Jazz didn’t need to pull away from him physically. She’d already pulled away mentally so far that she might as well have been in another galaxy. He cast a quick look at her hands. So far, no witchflame was in sight.
He quickly guided her into the elevator, but she slipped out before he could pull the grille across.
“Since you know everything I do, I think I’ll head on home.” She walked toward the large glass door leading to the boardwalk.
“Jazz,” he called after her. “Fine! We won’t talk about it, how is that?”
She paused with her hands on the door handle and looked over her shoulder.
“One thing that hasn’t changed over the years is your timing.”