Every Witch Way But Dead th-3

by Ким Харрисон

  He gazed at me for a heartbeat, then said, "Okay."

  "Good." I took a quick breath, turned and walked out.

  My knees were shaking, and listening for any steps behind me, I took a right into my room. Heart pounding, I reached for my perfume. The one that hid my scent.

  "Don't."

  Gasping, I turned, finding Kisten behind me. Ivy's bottle slipped from my fingers. His hand darted out, and I jumped as it enfolded mine, imprisoning the precious bottle safe within my grip. I froze. "I like the way you smell," he whispered, far, far too close.

  My stomach clenched. I could risk bringing Al down on me by tapping a line to knock him unconscious, but I didn't want to. "You need to get out of my bedroom," I said.

  His blue eyes looked black in the dim light. The faint glow from the kitchen made him an alluring, dangerous shadow. My shoulders were so tense they hurt as he opened my hand and took the perfume from me. The click as it hit my dresser jerked me straight. "Nick isn't coming back," he said, unaccusing and blunt.

  My breath slipped from me, and I closed my eyes. Oh God. "I know."

  My eyes jerked open when he took my elbows. I froze, waiting for my scar to flash into play, but it didn't. He wasn't trying to bespell me. A foolish part of me respected that, and like an idiot, I did nothing instead of telling him to get the hell out of my church and away from me.

  "You need to be needed, Rachel," he said, inches away as his breath shifted my hair. "You live so brightly, so honestly, that you need to be needed. You're hurting. I can feel it."

  "I know."

  His solemn eyes took on a shade of pity. "Nick is human. No matter how he tries, he'll never understand you entirely."

  "I know." I swallowed hard. There was a wet warmth in my eyes. My jaw tightened until my head hurt. I will not cry.

  "He can't give you what you need." Kisten's hands slipped to my waist. "He'll always be just a little afraid."

  I know. My eyes closed, opening as I let him pull me closer.

  "And even if Nick learns to live with his fear," he said earnestly, his eyes asking me to listen, "he won't ever forgive you for being stronger than he is."

  A lump formed in my throat. "I…I have to go," I said. "Excuse me."

  His hands fell from me, and I pushed past him and into the hall. Confused and wanting to scream at the world, I strode into the kitchen. I stopped, seeing among the pots and flour a huge aching emptiness that had never been there before. Arms wrapped about myself, I lurched into the living room. I had to get the music off. It was beautiful. I hated it. I hated everything.

  Snatching up the remote, I pointed it at the player. Jeff Buckley. I couldn't handle Jeff in the state I was in. Who in hell put Jeff Buckley in my player? Clicking it off, I tossed the remote to the couch. Adrenaline jerked me straight as the remote hit, not the suede of Ivy's couch, but someone's hand.

  "Kisten!" I stammered as he turned the music back on, watching me with half-lidded eyes. "What are you doing?"

  "Listening to music."

  He was calm and wire-tight, and panic struck me at his calculating surety. "Don't sneak up on me like that," I said, my breath coming short. "Ivy never sneaks up on me."

  "Ivy doesn't like who she is." His eyes were unblinking. "I do."

  He reached out. Breath coming in a quick surge, I knocked his arm aside. Tension sang through me as he jerked me forward, holding me to him. Panic, then anger, flashed. There wasn't a twinge from my scar. "Kisten!" I exclaimed, trying to move. "Let me go!"

  "I'm not trying to bite you," he said softly, his lips brushing my ear. "Stop it."

  His voice was firm, soothing. There was no blood lust in it. My thoughts flashed back to waking up in his car to the sound of singing monks. "Let go!" I demanded, strung out and feeling like I was either going to hit him or start to cry.

  "I don't want to. You're hurting too much. How long has it been since someone held you? Touched you?"

  A tear leaked out and I hated that he saw it. Hated he knew I was holding my breath.

  "You need to feel, Rachel." His voice grew soft, pleading. "This is killing you slowly."

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. He was seducing me. I wasn't such an innocent that I knew he wouldn't try. But his hands upon my arms were warm. And he was right. I needed another's touch, ached for it, damn me to hell. I had almost forgotten how it felt to be needed. Nick had given that back to me, that tiny thrill of excitement knowing someone was wanting to touch you, wanting you and you alone to touch him.

  I had endured more short-term relationships than a socialite has shoes. Either it was my I.S. job, or my wacko mother pushing for commitment, or that I attracted jerks who simply saw a redhead as a potential notch on their broomstick. Maybe I was a crazy bitch demanding trust without being able to give it. I didn't want another one-sided relationship, but Nick was gone and Kisten smelled good. He made me feel the pain less.

  My shoulders eased, and he exhaled as he felt me stop fighting him. Eyes closing, I dropped my forehead into his shoulder as my folded arms made a small space between us. The music was soft and slow. I wasn't crazy. I could trust. I did trust. I had trusted Nick, and he had left.

  "You'll leave," I breathed. "They all leave. They get what they want, and they leave. Or they find out what I can do, and then they leave."

  His arms about me tightened for an instant, then relaxed. "I'm not going anywhere. You already scared the hell out of me when you took Piscary down." He buried his nose in my hair and breathed in my scent. "And I still am here."

  Lulled by his body warmth and his touch, my tension tricked away. Kisten altered my balance—and I moved with him. Moving, hardly moving, our weight shifted as the slow and seductive music lured me into swaying with him.

  "You can't hurt my pride," Kisten whispered, his fingers tracing the middle of my back. "I've lived my entire life with people stronger than I. I like that, and have no shame in being the weaker one. I'll never be able to cast a spell, and I don't give a shit that you can do something I can't."

  The music and our almost-not-moving started a warm spot in me. Licking my lips, I slipped my arms from between us to find they felt natural about his waist. My heartbeat quickened and my eyes were wide as I stared at the wall, my breath slipping in and out of me in an unreal evenness. "Kisten…"

  "I'll always be here," he said softly. "You can never fill my need, never drive me away, no matter how much you give me. The good or the bad. I'll always be hungry for emotion, always and forever, and I can feel you hurting. I can turn it to joy. If you'll let me."

  I swallowed as he drew us to a stop. He pulled back, and with a gentle touch on my jaw, he tilted my head so he could see my eyes. The pulsing beat of the music pattered on my mind, numbing and soothing. His gaze was heady. "Let me do this," he whispered, deeply dangerous. But with his words, he put me in a position of power. I could say no.

  I didn't want to.

  My thoughts pinged through me too fast to be realized. His hands felt good, and his eyes held passion. I wanted what he could give me—what he promised. "Why?" I whispered.

  His lips parted and he breathed, "Because I want to. Because you want me to."

  I didn't look from him. His pupils never shifted, never grew. My grip on him became firmer as my arms pressed into him. "There will be no sharing of blood, Kisten. Ever."

  His breath came and went, and his hands tightened. Expression dusky with the knowledge of what was to come, he leaned closer. "One," he said as he kissed the corner of my mouth. "Step." He kissed the other side. "At a time," he continued as he kissed me gently, so gently it made me ache for more. "My love," he finished.

  A stab of desire went right to my core. My eyes closed. Oh God. Save me from myself.

  "I make no promises," I whispered.

  "I don't ask for any," he said. "Where are we going?"

  "I don't know." My hands drifted downward from his waist. We were swaying to the music again. I felt alive, and as we almost-danced, a
hint of fire came from my demon scar.

  "Can I do this?" Kisten asked, moving closer so more of our bodies touched. I knew he was asking my permission to play upon my scar, to willingly let him bespell me. That he asked gave me a feeling of security I knew was probably false.

  "No. Yes. I don't know." So torn. It felt good, just my body touching his, his arms about my waist, a new demand in their strength. "I don't know…."

  "Then I won't." Where were we going? Exhaling, he ran his hands down my arms, lacing his fingers in mine. Gently he pulled my hands to the small of his back, holding them there as we swayed, shifting to the slow, seductive music.

  A shiver rose inside me. The scent of leather grew thick and warm. Where he touched sent a sliver of heat to tingle my fingers. My head dropped into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. I wanted to put my lips there, knowing what he would feel, knowing how he would taste if I dared. But I didn't, contenting myself to send my breath there instead, afraid of what he would do if my lips touched him.

  Heart pounding, I moved his hands to the small of my back and I left them there, moving, pressing, massaging. My hands rose to twine my fingers behind his head. My thoughts touched upon us in the elevator when I thought Piscary was going to kill me. It was too much to resist, the memory of my demon scar alive and alight.

  "Please," I whispered, my lips brushing his neck to make him tremble. His torn earlobe was inches from me, tempting. "I want you to." Pulling my gaze up, I searched his eyes, seeing but not fearing the narrowing band of blue. "I trust you. But I don't trust your instincts."

  A deep understanding and relief pinched his eyes. His hands dropped lower, caressing until they found the top of my legs, then reversed their motion, moving, always moving, as we swayed. "I don't trust them either," he said, fake accent utterly gone. "Not with you."

  My breath caught as his fingers traced from my back to my front, a whisper against my jeans. Tugging at the top button. Hinting. "I'm wearing caps," he said. "The vampire has been defanged."

  Startled, my lips parted as he smiled, showing me that his sharp canines were indeed capped. It sent a surge of heat through me, disquieting and thought provoking. Sure, he couldn't draw blood, but now I'd let him explore a hell of a lot more of me. And he knew it. But safe? No. He was more dangerous now than if he hadn't capped his teeth.

  "Oh God," I whispered, knowing I was lost as he nuzzled his head into the hollow of my shoulder and gently kissed me. Eyes closing, I sent my fingers into his hair, clenching as his kiss shifted, moving to the very edge of my collarbone where my scar started.

  Waves of demand pulsed from it, and my knees buckled.

  "Sorry," Kisten breathed huskily as he caught my elbows and kept me upright. "I didn't know it was that sensitive. Just how much saliva did you get dosed with?"

  His lips were off my neck and by my ear. Almost panting, I leaned into him. The blood in me pounded, wanting me to do something. "I almost died," I said. "Kisten…"

  "I'll be careful," he said, the tenderness going right to my core. I willingly followed his lead as he sat me on the couch, nestling me between the back and the arm. Taking his hands, I pulled Kisten down beside me. My scar was tingling and waves of promise scoured me. Where were we going?

  "Rachel?"

  I heard the same question in his voice, but I didn't want to answer. Smiling, I pulled him closer across the couch. "You talk too much," I whispered, and covered my mouth with his.

  A soft sound came from him as his lips pushed back, his stubble rough. Fingers spaced wide across my cheek, he held me still as I pulled his weight farther down upon me. Nudging my hip, he made room for his knee between me and the back of the couch.

  My skin tingled where his fingers touched my jaw. I slipped a hesitant tongue between his lips, and my breath came quick as he darted his tongue deep into me. He tasted faintly of almonds, and when he moved to draw away, I twined my fingers at the nape of his neck to keep him there just a moment longer. He made a surprised sound, pushing more aggressively. Now I pulled back, running my tongue across the smoothness of his teeth as I went.

  Kisten shuddered, the tremor felt clearly as he supported his weight over me. I didn't know how far I wanted to go. But this? This was good. I couldn't lead him on, promising more than I could give. "Wait…" I said reluctantly, meeting his gaze.

  But seeing him above me, breathless with his passion held in check, I hesitated. His eyes were black, heady with desire and need. I searched for and found a carefully checked blood lust. His shoulders were tense under his shirt, a hand was firm against my side, his thumb massaging under my halter. The look of wanting in him sent adrenaline to my core, rousing me more than his rough and gentle touch that rose higher to find my breast. Oh, to be wanted, needed.

  "What?" he said, poised and waiting.

  The hell with it. "Never mind," I said, playing with the hair about his ear.

  His soft hand under my halter top went still. "You want me to stop?"

  A second stab of feeling struck though me. I felt my eyes close. "No," I breathed, hearing a hundred well-thought-out convictions die in that word. Heart pounding, I slipped my amulets from me and dropped them to the carpet—I wanted to feel everything—but it wasn't until I reached for his belt buckle that he understood.

  A low guttural sound escaped him, and he dropped his head to mine. His weight was a welcomed warmth pressing on me as his lips found my demon scar and gently mouthed it.

  Fire spilled like molten stone through me to my groin, and I gasped as the sensation rebounded and multiplied. The dull aches from my recent demon attack mutated into pleasure, courtesy of the old vampire saliva he was playing upon. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. My hands jerked out from where I had been trying to undo his pants, and I clutched his shoulder. "Kisten," I breathed when I was able to take a shuddering breath.

  But he didn't let up, pushing me down until my head was on the arm of the couch. My fingers dug into him as gentle teeth replaced his lips. A groan escaped me, and he worked the scar, his teeth soft and his breath harsh. I wanted him. I wanted all of him.

  "Kisten…" I pushed at him. I had to ask first. I had to know.

  "What?" he said flatly as he pushed my shirt and halter out of the way and his fingers found my breast and began moving, promising more.

  In the gap between us, I finally got his belt undone. I gave a tug, and I heard a rivet snap through. His head dropped back to me, and before he could find my neck again and send me into an unaware ecstasy, I undid his zipper and sent my hands searching. God save me, I thought as I found him, the smooth skin tight under my questing fingers. "You've had sex with a witch before?" I whispered, pushing his jeans down and running my hand across his backside.

  "I know what I'm getting into," he said breathily.

  I felt myself melt into the couch as my thoughts and shoulders eased. My hands found him again, and he exhaled long and slow. "I didn't want to assume—" I said, then gasped as he dropped his weight lower and pulled my shirt up. "I didn't want you to be surprised…. Oh God. Kisten,"I panted, almost frantic with need as his lips moved from under my jaw to my collarbone and then to my breast. Waves of promise rose high, and I arched my back as he pulled, his hands warm against my skin. Where was he? I couldn't reach that far.

  He silenced my whisper as he lifted his face and kissed me. Now I could reach, and my breath slipped from me in bliss as I grasped him and sent my fingers moving lower. "Kisten…"

  "You talk too much," he said, his lips moving against my skin. "You ever have sex with a vamp?" he said, his eyes half closed, watching me.

  I exhaled as he turned his attention to my neck again. His fingers traced the path his lips were going to take, and waves of ecstasy rolled through me when they did. "No," I panted as I yanked his jeans down. I'd never get them off over his boots. "Anything I should be aware of?"

  He ran his hands under my breast, again tracing the path his lips soon followed. Back arched, I tried not to moan wit
h need as I reached down, trying to find all of him. "We bite," he said, and I cried out when he did just that, gently pinching me between his teeth.

  "Get my pants off before I kill you," I panted, almost insane with desire.

  "Yes, ma'am," he growled, and his stubble scraped me as he pulled away.

  I took a much needed deep breath, following him up to push him back down and straddle him. His hands worked my zipper as I fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. A sigh escaped me when I got the last one undone and sent my hands over him, my fingers tracing up and across the definition of his abs and chest. I leaned over him, my hair hiding what I was doing as my lips hop-skipped from his middle to the hollow at his neck. I lingered there, hesitantly, daring to run my teeth against his skin, pulling against it with a slight pressure. Under me, he shivered, and his hands, working my jeans down my hips, shook.

  Eyes wide, I pulled away, thinking I had gone too far.

  "No," he whispered, putting his hands on my waist to keep me there. His face was strained with emotion. "Don't stop. It's…I won't break your skin." His eyes flashed open. "Oh God, Rachel. I promise I won't break your skin."

  The passion in his voice struck me. Abandoning myself, I pinned him to the couch, knees to either side. Lips searching, I found his neck, turning my kisses into something more substantial. His heavy breaths and light hands drove my desire into pulsing demands, pounding through me in time with my heartbeat. Teeth replaced my lips, and his breath grew ragged.

  His hands grasped my waist, and I was lifted up enough that I could push my jeans off. They caught on my socks, and with a cry of impatience, I pulled my lips from him long enough to kick them off. Then I was back, my skin warm where it touched him under me. I leaned over him, holding his neck unmoving as I used my teeth against his skin instead of my lips.

  Kisten's breath came in a shuddering sound. "Rachel," he breathed, his hands firm against my middle as he sent his hand downward, searching.

  A low sound, barely audible, came from me as his fingers brushed me. In his touch, I felt his need flash into demand. My eyes closed and I sent one hand downward, finding him.