by Kim Harrison
Selene heard her own harsh sobs, the low moaning sound of a strangled scream.
Nikolai slid the coat off her shoulders while he dragged her along. Tossed it over the back of the couch as he pulled her into the living room. Then he grabbed the canvas strap of her bag, wrapped it around his fist, and jerked it up over her head. Selene let out a short cry, cut off midway when he clamped his free hand over her mouth. He dropped the bag on the couch as well, and looked down at her.
Silence, except for the muffled sounds slipping past his fingers. Fire raced up her side, tearing through her ribs—the stitch in her side, getting worse. Her calves were burning too. Her lower back ached, and her palms were scraped raw.
Worse than that was the miserable, hot, prickling need slamming through her. The low, relentless burn between her legs, spreading through her entire body. Now that she wasn’t running, it returned. When would she start to beg?
He considered her, cocking his head to one side. A few soft strands of black hair fell over his forehead. “I told you not to look.” There was no inflection to his voice, it was a passionless murmur. “But look you must. Are you happy? Are you satisfied?”
Selene’s shoulders slumped. I could bite him. What would he do if I bit him? Would he hold me down and…
Nikolai let out a low pent breath. It was for effect—he didn’t need to breathe, did he? He only did it when he wanted to.
He slid one hand around her waist, flattened it against the small of her back. His fingers scorched through her sweater. “I forgive you much.” His hand exerted a little pressure, enough that she shifted back away from him, resisting. “I forgive you because you are young, and because you are unique, and because you amuse me.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Sometimes you even surprise me, which is rare. But sometimes, my Selene, I wonder if I forgive too much.”
She tried to twist free, but he had her, one hand on the small of her back, the other over her mouth. Tears trickled down her cheeks. He pulled her close to him, closer, until she could feel something very definitely alive pressing against her belly, through his jeans and her sweater. I could give a lecture on this, she thought hysterically. Vampire Anatomy: Dead or Alive? I never even knew a Nichtvren could get a hard-on—they didn’t cover that in the textbooks.
It was her effect on him—her effect on any man. Maybe it was pheromones, maybe it was only her cursed power making sure it could complete itself. Nikolai had known what she was the first time he smelled her.
Or so he said.
“Now,” he said, leaning down just a little, whispering in her ear. “You disobeyed me. You tossed my last gift to you away like a piece of trash. You also acted as a complete fool, dropping your defenses and working the Art while you sat in the back of a police car. And I saw where you found the Power for that trick, my sweet.” He was murmuring, and Selene shut her eyes. Her entire body shook now, straining against his, recognizing that here was something it needed. Something that could take the ache away. “I wonder how you’re feeling.”
He took a step, and let her move too, back toward the bedroom. Only the nightlight in the hall broke the darkness of her apartment, but that would present no difficulty to him. Not to a Nichtvren, who could see in complete dark.
“Well?” He moved, his legs bumping hers.
Selene’s body betrayed her. Her hips jerked forward and her hands came up, sliding along his arms to find his shoulders and clenching, trying to pull him forward. Her lips parted, and she sobbed in a breath behind his hand. Two.
I hate myself. It was the only clear thought in the straining welter of sensation she’d become, her curse awake and alive under her skin. I hate him and I hate myself. She tasted salt, and kissed his palm, her lips softening, unable to help herself.
“I see,” he continued, pitilessly. “The succubus needs her food.”
That’s not what I am! She wanted to scream, but his hand was still over her mouth.
“You are the only tantraiiken of adult age to walk the earth freely for five hundred years, and you do so because of my protection.” He moved her back a step at a time, toward the bedroom. “If I were cruel, dear one, sweet Selene, I’d chain you in a stone cell and let you suffer. Let you burn for a little while, until you better appreciated me and the liberty I allow you.” Then he gave a bitter little laugh, and Selene went liquid against him, relieved. She knew that sound.
He would give her what she needed. He would make it stop.
Then she could do what she had to do. Find out who had done…that…to Danny.
“Please,” she mouthed against his palm, before she could stop herself. “Nikolai.”
I am such a whore. Loathing filled her mouth like spilled wine, added another complex layer to the straining need pounding in her blood.
“Hush.” He pushed her through the bedroom door, kicked it shut. She flinched, shaking so hard she couldn’t walk, and he pushed her down on the bed. She landed hard, her head flung back, her back arching. The covers were still thrown back.
Danny, the part of her that wasn’t crazed with need sobbed. Danny. Oh, my God. My brother is dead, and what am I doing? God help me.
He stood there, watching her shake against the cotton sheets. Selene bit her lower lip. That was a mistake—the pain now fed the loop of sensation, fear and pain and lust driving in a circle that wrung shuddering little sounds from her.
Finally, he shed his coat, draping it over the chair set by the closet. Selene closed her eyes, twisting, her hips rising, falling back down. Her clothes were impossibly hot, confining, scraping against suddenly sensitive skin.
He knelt down, and worked her damp boots off, and her socks. Touched the inside of her ankle with a fingertip, under the damp cuff of her jeans. The touch sent a spark racing up her leg, through her entire body. “Selene.” Why did he have to sound so human, so soft and reasonable? “I wanted to save you that sight.”
“My brother,” she whispered, then moaned as the bed accepted Nikolai’s weight next to her. He propped himself up on one elbow and used the other hand to pop the button on her waistband. I’m going to kill whoever did that to him. Just get this over with so I can go on. She drew in a sobbing breath, her hips lifting helplessly.
“I would rather have you remember him alive.” Nikolai slowly unzipped her jeans. The sound of the zipper was loud in the dark stillness of her bedroom. Tears leaked out between Selene’s eyelids, and her sweater was drenched with sweat.
Addicted to this, but I have no choice. I never have a choice. The need would get worse and worse, a tantraiiken’s curse burning through her bones, until she was little more than an animal. She’d gone that far sometimes, when she was young and thought she could rule her own body, at least.
Before she’d learned how to use the curse for her own benefit. And before she’d met him. Since she’d come to Nikolai’s notice, she hadn’t needed to feed her curse in alleys or cheap hotel rooms. Even if she could forget it, he reminded her often enough. She owed him.
Owed, and was owned by. There wasn’t much of a difference where Nichtvren were concerned.
“Nikolai…” It was a long despairing moan. It wouldn’t take long before she started to beg. She’d drained her batteries and worked herself into a frenzy.
He slid his hand into her jeans, settling the heel of his palm against her mound. His fingers slipped down, and made a slight beckoning motion. Selene arched, her breath hissing in. But then, torture of tortures, he stopped.
“Why disobey me?” His breath was warm against her cheek. “Why, Selene? You leave me no choice.”
“Nikolai—” It was all she had left, the pleading. He would give her what she needed, and then she could think again, ponder, consider, plan. But how much would he make her suffer first, and how much of the suffering would she enjoy because of her traitorous body?
He took pity on her then, and made another little beckoning motion with his fingers, and another. He knew exactly what to do. It was all Selene needed, an
d she cried out, arching, her head tipped back and her entire body shuddering. It was like being dipped in fire, and the relief was instant.
Relief—and fresh need. She would need more. Much more. But now she could think, the first edge of her curse was blunted.
“Nikolai,” she said, when she could speak again. “You were in there, what did you see?” Give me something, you fucking suckhead. Get it, Selene? Fucking suckhead? You’re such a whore.
The image of Danny’s apartment rose in front of her eyes again, and she struggled away from Nikolai’s hand, curling into a ball, pulling her knees up while she hugged herself, making small sobbing sounds like an animal in a trap. Her wet clothes rasped uncomfortably against her skin.
Nikolai sighed again. He sounded frustrated. Good for him.
“Later, dear one. Right now you are in pain.” He sliced her sweater up the back—his claws, extended delicately, not even brushing her skin beneath the wool. Chill air met her wet skin. Then his fingers, skating down the muscles on either side of her spine. His claws were retracted, but she could still feel the strength in his hands. He pushed her hair aside—the elastic band holding her ponytail snapped—and his mouth met her nape. She shivered, curling even more tightly into herself. He stroked her shoulder, touched the two dimples down low at the small of her back.
The first edge of pain was gone, and the burning settled back into a low dull agony. Her Talent wasn’t like others, she had to fuel it with sex. It was the only thing that worked.
But Christ, do I have to let him touch me like this? He’s not human. Can’t he just fuck me and get it over with, leave me alone so I can do what I need to do?
The rest of her ruined sweater was discarded over the side of the bed. He worked her jeans free and tossed them away too, then took her in his arms. His own clothes were gone—how he did that she couldn’t guess, but it probably had something to do with his claws, and the fact that she was too busy trying to gulp down air and fight her body’s need to really pay attention to him.
She was paying for the magick she’d done earlier. No preparation, no patterning—she’d simply dropped her defenses and gone for it, performed a major Work without any thought of the consequences. No wonder she was shaking with need.
Everything has to be paid for. She realized she’d said it out loud. “Everything has to be paid for in magick, Nikolai, everything.”
“Do you think I do not know?” He pushed her onto her back, slid his hand between her legs. She was slick and feverish, damp with need. “Hush. Lie still.”
It took a massive effort to do what he said. It would be quicker if she just let him—if she submitted, if she gave in.
Selene erupted into wild motion, trying to fight him off. He caught her wrists, stretching them above her head, and pinned her to the mattress. She would have been screaming, but his mouth was on hers, catching the scream, killing it. She tried to kick him, straining, but he slid a knee between hers. Then all of his weight, and Selene felt the edges of his hips against the soft insides of her thighs. He was much warmer now, his skin almost scorching hers.
The energetic discharge of sex would feed him, too. That was why a tantraiiken was such a valuable paranormal pet.
Pet? Slave. It was frowned upon, of course, but paranormals and Talents weren’t that tightly policed, even though the laws were almost in effect to give them some protection and codify them. The higher echelons of the human world—the powerbrokers and politicians—knew about the slavery, of course, it was an open secret in some circles. But no newspaper would ever report on it, and no television anchor would ever talk about the things that went on under the blanket of normality. How sometimes, people born with certain Talents were lost to the night side of life.
He found the entrance to her body, thrust in, and his hands tightened around her wrists, the small bones grinding together. Selene gulped back another useless scream, relief spilling through her. His fingers gentled, threaded through hers. He murmured something—maybe it was Russian, she didn’t know, didn’t care, the only thing she cared about was that the agony had stopped. He was in her to the hilt, stretching her, her hips slamming up, silently begging.
He moved, again, and Selene closed her eyes. Pleasure tore through her, a dark screaming pleasure wrapped in barbed wire and dragging hot velvet laceration through tender flesh. Soon enough she would be able to think about grieving.
“Get…it…over…with.” She set her teeth together, even as her hips rocked and her ankles linked together at the small of his back. Her body betrayed her over and over again, that was the worst. Her body was an enemy, a traitor, it didn’t care who he was as long as he had what she needed.
“Oh, no,” he whispered into her ear, then caught her earlobe in his teeth, gently, delicately. A slight nip of razor teeth, and she sucked in a breath. He laughed, a low harsh breath against her cheek. “There are a few hours until morning.”
“I hate you,” she whispered back, even as her body shook and the blind fire took her again. And again.
CHAPTER 5
IN THE END, EXHAUSTED, SHE LAY LIMP AGAINST the bed, hugging a pillow rescued from the floor. Nikolai curled against her back, sweat slicking his skin so it slid against hers. Her entire body sparked pleasantly, and her shields were back up, thick enough to protect her again.
If Danny had been able to shield himself, would he have died? If he’d been able to run away from whatever had battered his door down, maybe he would have survived.
Don’t worry, Danny. Little sister’s on the job. I’ll get whoever did this to you. I promise. The words were a lump behind her breastbone, steel closing around her beating heart. I swear to you, Danny. I’m going to find who did this to you. I’ll do whatever I have to do.
That was one thing being a whore was good for. It let her contemplate doing just about anything to get what she wanted. What she needed.
Nikolai’s hand polished the curve of her hip, something cool and metallic sliding against her skin. He drew it up over her ribs, under her breast, until the medallion lay where it used to, half the chain spilling down to pool on the sheet. He fastened it at the back of her neck, one-handed, and flattened his other palm against the silver lying between her breasts. “There. This is important, Selene. Without it, you’re at risk. This gives you protection. You cannot throw it away. Understood?”
Shut up, suckhead. “Someone killed my brother.” Her throat rasped from choking back screams. “What happened? What was it?”
“If I tell you what I know, it would be nothing. If I tell you what I suspect, it will be confusing, because I suspect many things.” He yawned, burying his face in her hair, then spread one hand against her belly. He was warm enough to pass for a feverish human, metabolizing the jolt of sex into fuel. “If I tell you what I expect, we will be here for many hours, since I have learned to expect everything. It is too soon to tell.”
“My brother,” she said, tonelessly. His knees were behind hers, one arm under her head, the other holding her to him. A huge exhausted yawn took her unaware, threatened to crack her jaw. “Someone killed my brother, Nikolai.” If you won’t help me…
“Cooperate with me, and I will find whatever killed your brother,” He sighed again, relaxing against her back the way a cat might. A very big, very warm cat. “Dawn is approaching. Will you come with me?”
She should have known. The same offer as always, delivered as if she should be grateful for it. Leave it to Nikolai to use even her brother’s murder to try and get what he wanted out of her. “I have work tomorrow.” She watched the edge of her pillowcase, breathing shallowly. Leave me alone. You got what you wanted, now go away.
“Already attended to. You are not expected there for another two weeks.”
Jesus. “I can’t afford—”
“With pay.”
“I don’t want your money.” I don’t want to fuck you, either. See how well that works out?
“Mh. It is not mine; it is from the college. You may cal
l it a gift. For my Selene.”
She closed her eyes. If he was human, what would I do? I’d ask him to help me and he might even do it without turning it into a power play. “Don’t call me that. I’m not yours.”
“You must belong somewhere,” he said softly.
“I belonged with my brother.” Poor Danny. Locked in his apartment except for those times he slipped the chain of his own body and went Journeying. How many times had Selene climbed the steps to his apartment to ask his help for the cases Jack Pepper brought her? How many times had she brought him meals, or little things he needed because he couldn’t stand to leave the wards Selene had made for him?
Danny had been immune to her pheromones, immune to her curse. He had been the only man capable of seeing her without her goddamn body complicating things.
I belonged with him plenty, you undead jerk. Now he’s gone, and you wouldn’t have even let me look at his body.
I hate you.
And he was so easy to hate, wasn’t he? A Nichtvren. Inhuman, for all that he’d been mortal once, however long ago. How old was he, anyway?
“He was under my protection too,” Nikolai said. “Come with me, Selene. You will be safer.”
Like hell I will. “No.”
“One day you will.” He didn’t push the issue, for once. “Jorge will come to offer you use of a car.”
“And to keep an eye on me? No thanks, Nikolai.” Selene bit her lower lip. It was bruised already. She tasted blood. She would ache tomorrow. It had been too long, she’d built up a heavy debt, and her body had exacted its toll with a vengeance. Not only had she cleared a poltergeist infestation and pulled the wards from Danny’s apartment, but there had also been the work for that witch over on Seventeenth Street.
She’d needed the money. She always needed the money. Lecturing didn’t pay nearly enough for both her rent and Danny’s. And by God, Selene never wanted to be poor again. She agreed with Scarlett O’Hara on that count, thank you very much.
Nikolai paused, and his hand tensed against her belly. She held her breath, but he didn’t move, just tightened his arm around her.