For a moment, Connie lay quiet. He let his hands wander up her back, feeling the delicate ridges of her backbone, her ribs, the dip in the small of her back. Her hair fell like a dark cloak around them, silky and private. She kissed his jaw, her soft lips working against the harsh stubble of his chin. Aroused, Mac felt his body temperature spike again, his skin starting to prickle.
“That feels so good,” she murmured, rubbing against him like a cat.
Cupping her breasts, he stroked her nipples, watching her eyes flutter closed, her lips part. He raised her perfect pink tips to a hard peak, watching them press against the fabric of her bra. As she hauled in a breath, rearing up, he bent his head to suckle her through the lace, the roughness adding an extra sensation for his tongue.
He tasted her cool skin, buried himself in it, breathed it in like incense. Her hands raked through his hair, the razor sharpness of her nails alerting every nerve down his spine. Turning, he gave the other breast equal treatment, working until he heard a ragged gasp of pleasure.
Sliding down his body, Connie sought his mouth, drawing in his tongue, teasing his lips with her teeth. She’s changed, he thought. More than her physical form had altered. Inhibitions had been stripped away, the ability to find and give pleasure brought to the fore.
Of course, that was how a vampire hunted. It ran in the blood Caravelli had fed her, part of the necessary DNA of the species. That was fine with Mac. No complaints on his end. Until she bit him, fangs sinking deep into the heavy muscle of his neck.
The white-hot sensation ripped through his body. He felt his own hot blood guttering in the hollow of his collarbone, the pressure as she bit even deeper, her fangs slicing into flesh.
Shit!
He was about to throw her off when he felt the cold tingle of venom, spreading like an ice cloud through his veins. Oh, Lord. The freezing sensation numbed him for a moment, extinguished the pain, then turned to a balmy warmth as it reached his belly.
“You’re hot and spicy,” she said, her pupils dilated to pools of black. “You make me warm inside.”
She licked his chest, dragging her tongue over the swell of muscle, circling his nipple with butterfly flicks of her tongue.
He was lost. Euphoria rose like a tide, sexual desire flooding him with life-and-death urgency. Connie’s hands were all over him, his all over her, clothes disappearing, his only objective to bury himself inside her.
Mac was harder than he’d ever been in his life. On fire. He thrust inside her, spearing her flesh as she had his. Her hips rose to meet him, a moan of pleasure escaping her. She was more than ready, slick and welcoming. Her legs hooked around him, holding him tight.
Mac’s head swam, the conscious part of his brain buried in animal sensation. The venom drove him, burning through his demon-hot veins like whisky. He pushed harder and harder, plunging and withdrawing, sparing nothing. He was created for only one thing: the here and now. Possession.
Connie came first, the orgasm tearing a throaty cry from her. Her body clenched, pulsing around him, milking him. Her nails shredded his back, writing her claim into his skin. He hissed through his teeth. The feel of her digging in wound through him, a bloody thread piercing his wild desire. The sting of it brought him, a hard, convulsive explosion. Hot and wet, he poured into her, spending himself until he was nothing but a mindless shell.
He collapsed on his side, as exhausted as if his battery pack had suddenly been ripped out. Connie curled against him, hooking a leg over his hip. He was aware of her there, but he was somewhere outside of his body, perhaps a stunned dust mote in the Milky Way.
Wow.
The venom rambled through his body, turning what was left of his mind to boiled spaghetti. Or maybe that was his limbs.
“Mac?” Connie whispered.
Why do women always want to talk after sex?
“Mm?”
He felt her hand, cool and soft, on his cheek. “I didn’t take much blood. It’s not really food for me. But it was exciting.”
This was a conversation he needed to be awake for. He forced his eyes open and took a deep breath. It forced back the venom haze a notch.
“I didn’t know demons could be rolled by a vampire bite.” He sounded drunk.
“It won’t last,” she said, her voice thick with apology. “It won’t addict you. Alessandro said so.”
You were discussing our sex life with him? Great.
“Forgive me.”
“Hey, that was pretty fine,” he managed a crooked smile. “It’s all right?”
“Oh, yeah.”
She blinked hard, her eyes filling with pinkish tears. “I can’t help myself. Something takes over...”
“Hey. Hey.” Mac raised himself on one elbow, drawing her to him. “You couldn’t help it. You’re just a newbie. Every vampire has to learn control. That’s just the way it is.”
“I could hurt someone when I bite. I did hurt someone, and yet I still want it so much. I didn’t think it would be like this. So out of control.”
He kissed her, remembering the terror of his own first days with Geneva. The memory made him hug Connie tighter. “Hey, with me, just let yourself go and enjoy it. We’re consenting adults, demon and vamp. You can’t really hurt me. No harm, no foul.”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Even if this happened to me unintentionally, I have to be honest—I wanted the power of the Undead. I wanted so much to be able to fight at least some of my own battles. But I had little idea of the price.”
“You don’t think it’s worth it?”
She sank back onto her pillow, looking up at him. “You became a demon. You tell me.”
He wanted to sugarcoat the answer, but he stopped himself. She needed the truth. “The first time I Turned, it was awful. This time wasn’t so bad. I’m learning to live with it.”
“Really?”
“I don’t have a choice. I don’t know how to go back to being human.”
Connie stroked his arm, her fingers running over the curve of his biceps. “What about your people? Your friends? How did they take it?”
Mac hesitated. Another tough question.
“My letters came back unopened.”
Connie put her hand to his cheek. “That’s sad.”
“Their loss. I’m still the same guy.”
She was pensive. “Is that really true?”
He captured her hand, kissed her palm. “I’ve changed, but not as much as they think.”
He angled his body to face her, putting all his reassurance into a kiss. Her lips were cool, soft, and sweet, but she seemed suddenly shy. He didn’t push.
“What is it?”
“Mac, I...” She trailed off, looking away. He was only half listening, fascinated by the long line of her throat.
“I can see your world is beautiful. There’s so much to love in it, but I...”
He brought himself back to the conversation. “What?”
She covered her face with her hands. “Too much has changed too fast. I need something I know. I want to go home.”
“It’s dangerous in the Castle. I’d rather you and Sylvius and, yeah, Viktor, Were out here.”
“Give us some time.”
“Why put yourselves in danger?”
“Oh, Mac, in there I won’t feel like a monster. Here, I’m hungry all the time. Starving.”
“You’ll gain more control.”
“But right now it’s like a thousand voices shouting in my head, demanding and demanding. I’m not sure where I am inside myself. I feel like a bystander and all these appetites are ruling my soul. I gained strength in some ways, but I’m weaker in others. I bit you. Just now. And I liked it so much.”
Mac felt for her, as if his heart spiraled into an abyss. “I know, sweetheart. I’ve been where you are. You get control by facing your hungers. You can’t hide forever.”
Her silver-blue eyes were sad. “I know. Please, please understand that after being frozen for so many years, I just need to take al
l this slowly. Come to me. Come to me often, but give me some time.”
Sweetheart, I wish I could.
She squeezed his hand. “I have to do this, Mac. Don’t rush me.”
She gave him a stubborn look. He loved it, because he could see the steel underneath all her doubts. She was having a rough ride, but she was giving herself what she needed.
Too bad it wasn’t in the cards. Mac had wanted to wait, to spare her what he knew, but his options had just run out. “Connie, I need to tell you what I found out about the Castle. And Sylvius.”
He leaned over her, wrapping her fingers in his, and told her about Atreus, the Avatar, and the guardsmen’s plan to murder her son.
Chapter 23
October 9, 10:00 p.m. 101.5 FM
“Earlier this evening, we had special guest Dr. Gaylen Hooper discussing the transition between species. But some supernatural talents are learned—and that’s what we’re going to talk about now. Please welcome our next guest, John Jameson of the Wizard’s Guild. Hello, John.”
“Hello, Errata, and a big wizarding hello to the folks at home.”
“So, first of all, let’s address the first FAQ I see listed on your Web site. What is the difference between a wizard and a sorcerer?”
“Well, first of all, let me say these are equal opportunity talents. Any species can be either a wizard or a sorcerer, although natural ability does play a role.”
“How do you mean, John?”
“Some pupils are gifted, just the way some folks naturally take to playing the piano. But back to your original question, Errata. The big difference between wizardry and sorcery is that sorcerers rely on ritual and study. They’re all about the big books and summoning demons. Wizards spe cialize in the mix of magic and technology—y’know, data magic. We’ve blown open the world of online gaming.”
“No summoning demons?”
“Most of us live in apartments. There’s the damage deposit to consider.”
Mac could have stopped Connie from running back to the Castle. Alessandro could have stopped her. Or so they told themselves. After one look at her face, they both saw there was no point in trying.
Mac had heard that Turning ramped up a person’s natural aggression. That was expressing itself in Connie’s maternal instinct. Goodbye, milkmaid; hello, mama bear. He approved, even though his inner caveman was feeling a little more cautious.
They took the T-Bird to the Castle, parking in front of the Empire Hotel. Connie was fascinated with the car, and even more fascinated with how fast it could go. Mac could see a small fortune in speeding tickets somewhere in her future. He was going to be keeping a close eye on the keys to his Mustang.
Mac couldn’t dust and carry two people with him, so they went through the door in the conventional fashion, the hellhounds looking on curiously but obeying Caravelli’s order to let them pass.
After coming and going so many times without a problem, they forgot to be watchful.
“Patrol!” Connie whispered, her head whipping around.
Mac grabbed her shoulders, his gaze following hers. The flash of torchlight on a patch of armor gave the guardsman away.
“Go!” said Caravelli, leaping upward, clinging to the stones of the wall. Spider-swift, he crept upward, vanishing in the murk of darkness above.
Creepy.
Mac dusted, taking Connie with him. That was too close.
As soon as he materialized in Connie’s secret room, adrenaline surged through Mac. He let Connie go, almost pushing her away as demon heat bathed his limbs with a blast of fright and anger. He felt the flush creep up his neck, hotter than ever before.
The body-heat thing was getting out of control. Maybe he would have to start carrying one of those little battery-operated fans. Bursting into a fireball would definitely be a showstopper.
But not this show. Mac was a bit-player in this scene. The moment he released Connie, she flew across the room to Sylvius. Viktor got to his feet with a whuff.
“You’re safe!” she said, falling on to the sofa beside her son.
“Of course I am.” Sylvius stared at Connie, looking at her curiously. Then nodded slowly. “You’ve done it. You’ve changed. I wondered if you would.”
“It was an accident.” The words came out sheepishly.
“No, this was meant to be.”
Viktor woofed again, this time turning to Mac and snuffling wetly at his jacket. The beast was enormous, as high as Mac’s chest, but something in him reminded him of his old black lab, although the lab didn’t smell as bad. He rubbed Viktor’s ears, anyway, earning a tail wag.
The simple act calmed Mac’s demon. He felt his heart slowing, his skin returning to its usual temperature. The conversation on the sofa faded into the background.
Mac missed his old dog. As if reading his thoughts, Viktor slurped his face.
I don’t miss that part.
There was a knock at the door. “Who is it?” Mac demanded.
Viktor shuffled to the door, sniffing at the crack. “Caravelli.”
Mac shoulder-checked the beast out of the way and let the vampire in, drawing back the heavy bolts that secured the thick door and giving the word that released the wards Lore had set.
“What the hell is that?” Caravelli asked, glancing at Vik tor as he stepped inside. The werebeast was doing some sort of a doggy dance, rising up on his back feet every few steps.
“Viktor! Down!” Mac ordered.
Viktor bounced happily, ignoring him.
Mac gave a two-fingered whistle. Viktor froze. Mac pointed to the floor. Viktor lay down.
“Good boy,” Mac said, patting the huge werebeast’s head. It felt vaguely ridiculous. There was a person inside there somewhere.
“Now that we have the livestock under control,” Caravelli said dryly, “there are some things I need to discuss with Constance since she’s going to be away from her sire for the first time.”
Viktor looked at the door and whined.
“He wants a walk,” Sylvius said. “So do I.”
Mac thought about the patrol and weighed the odds of any guardsmen showing up in this corner of the Castle, but Sylvius’s expression said he needed to talk. “Come on then,” Mac said. “We’ll leave them to Vampires 101.”
He had no intention of going far. Viktor could probably hold his own or at least run away, but the kid didn’t look like a fighter. Plus, Connie would have his head if anything happened to her son.
Sylvius sighed when they closed the door to the room behind them. Viktor loped ahead, shaking a cloud of hair from his ragged coat.
“I can’t stay shut up in there forever.” Sylvius started walking, his head down. “I need freedom to fly.”
“You could always leave. We’ll find a place for Viktor. You could talk Connie into going outside the Castle, and then you’d all be safe.”
“She won’t go without me, will she?”
“No.” Mac tried to keep the word neutral, not to lay the guilt on too thick. “This is all she knows. Everyone she loves is here. Including you. Especially you.”
“Ah.” Sylvius stopped and turned to look at Mac. “I wish I could make it easier instead of harder.”
They’d reached the junction with the next corridor, the limit of how far Mac intended to wander. The torchlight shone behind the incubus, showing the network of fine veins running through the skin of his wings. Mac studied him for a moment, taking in once more the long silver hair and black eyes. Behind all that strangeness was the face of a young man.
He focused on that, wishing for common ground. “If you don’t leave, I’m not sure how else to help you.”
Mac could make him leave. In fact, if Sylvius, Connie, and Viktor were still in the Castle by the time the council had met, he would be sorely tempted. But he didn’t want to force the issue quite yet. He wanted it to be their choice.
Sylvius folded his arms, ducking his head. “If I’m what’s left of the Avatar, I can’t risk leaving. As I said before
, what if I’m the last thing that’s keeping the Castle standing? What if I walk out, and it all turns to dust?”
“I don’t believe that. It sounds crazy.”
“Crazy is Atreus making my mother out of sunbeams and then killing her.”
“Your mother died giving birth to you,” Mac said gently. “That’s not the same thing.”
“Guilt has made Atreus go mad. That’s as good as a confession.”
“Could the decline of the Castle be part of the reason he’s sick?”
“No.” Anger thickened Sylvius’s voice. “Maybe. If it were just that, he’d never have confessed to you.” He fell against the wall, turning his face into the stone. There were tears in his voice. “There were others who needed her, not just him. She was the sun and rain. It wasn’t right for him to take her for himself. To make me. I shouldn’t even exist.”
“Bull,” Mac said firmly, putting a hand on Sylvius’s shoulder. He expected the kid to be upset, but his anguished voice raised the hair on Mac’s neck. It wasn’t supernatural. It was the pure intensity of a teenager. “And don’t think you can restore the Avatar by dying. That’s a load of crap.”
Sylvius shook his head slowly, his eyes fixed on the flagstones at his feet. “If I knew it to be a fact, I would cut my own throat and put things back the way they’re supposed to be. I’d save the guardsmen the trouble.”
Mac saw the dilemma written on Sylvius’s face. Stay and risk death. Go and risk the death of everyone here. What the hell was he going to do with the kid? Sixteen was the age of school dances and hockey.
“Mac?”
“Yeah?”
“You’ll figure this out, right?”
Constance had always loved the Summer Room. There was just one problem.
Nothing here dampened her appetites, and now she was suffering, the blood hunger gnawing her from the inside out. She tried to ignore it as irrelevant. Sylvius was protected here. In her sight.
Constance paced, feeling the gauzy swish of Holly’s cotton skirt around her calves. She liked the freedom of the modern clothing, but felt sorely underdressed. Her old petticoat had more substance. And warmth. She was freezing cold.
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