“Indefinitely I suppose, given the right circumstances.” He smoothed a hand up and down Morgan’s back, more for his comfort than hers. “Ronan kept my mother, Auriella, as a blood slave for two centuries after she died. I think that’s what made him go insane. After he initially raised her from the dead, it took him a hundred years to figure out the right balance of necromancy, black magic, and human sacrifice needed to create life within her. After she birthed Rory, the deterioration started, and no matter how many spells Ronan knew, he couldn’t reverse it. He blames us. I don’t think he anticipated the side effects of what having children would do to a zombie.”
“You couldn’t heal her like you did Rory and me?”
A knife stabbed through his chest, the memories so painful he couldn’t breathe.
“I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to ask,” she whispered and tried to get off his lap. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
He caught her and pulled her to him. “Stay.”
Nodding slowly, she tentatively curled her hands around the back of his neck. The warmth of her touch chased the chill away.
“Ronan caught me healing Nolan once. After he realized what I could do, he forced me to fix my mother. The magic doesn’t quite work the same on the dead as it does the living. It just made things worse.”
“He punished you, didn’t he?”
“Not me,” Bastian said in a whisper. “Nolan and Rory paid for whatever mistakes I made, and I had to watch.”
In the dark silence, they sat together and were no longer strangers.
“Let me heal your hands,” he said.
She shook her head. “No.”
He cupped her jaw and drew her face up until their eyes were level. He stroked his thumb over her cheek before tracing her lower lip. “I’m not asking.”
“Will it make you sick again?” She closed her teeth around the tip of his thumb.
The erection he’d managed to will away came back in full force. “No, I’m well rested, and I fed enough last night.”
He clasped both of her hands in his, palm to palm. Magic raced to the tips of his fingers. Blue frost spread across her skin, adhered their hands together, and she sucked in a breath. He concentrated on the defensive wounds, the bruised knuckles, and finally the jagged gash. One by one, they faded into scars and then into unblemished skin.
“Cold,” she said through chattering teeth.
Bastian let go of her hands and snagged the covers tangled around his legs. In unspoken agreement, they lay back together as he drew the comforter over Morgan’s shoulders and pulled her against him. He wasn’t normally warm, but having spent the entire day in her embrace, he’d absorbed the heat from her skin. Over the blanket, he rubbed a hand up and down her back and generated extra friction. When her shaking subsided, he’d let her go.
The quiet faded when the murmur of voices from somewhere in the hall outside of his bedroom penetrated. Male and female.
Both he and Morgan stilled and looked to the closed bedroom door. Closed? Hadn’t it been open when he’d fallen asleep? Fucking Rory. The asshole had probably tucked him in too.
“I know he’s in there. Just let me in.” The familiar honeyed voice stiffened his spine.
Jodi.
“Shit.” Bastian groaned and closed his eyes.
“What?” Morgan asked. “Who is it?”
There was no time for explanation. Rory’s voice came from directly outside of the door. “You want in there, fine. Be my guest. Just don’t get pissy about what you might see.”
Time’s up.
The door opened. Blinding light spilled across the room to spotlight him and Morgan cuddled together under the covers. Jodi in all her blonde perfection came into focus.
As usual, her hair was immaculately styled with a layer of feathered curls framing her round face. She pressed a manicured hand to her mouth. The gesture didn’t stop the hitch of her breath, and it didn’t hide the hurt in her green eyes. Bastian cringed. He’d been witness to the gasp and the watery eyes enough times, thanks to Rory and Nolan, to recognize the sound of someone’s heart breaking.
He’d tried so hard to let her down gently. The shattered look on her face told him he should have tried harder. He should have stopped fucking her weeks ago.
Jodi’s apparent heartache twisted into anger. Lines bracketed her mouth, crinkled the corners of her eyes, and showed the age she so desperately tried to hide.
“Who the hell is she?” Jodi snapped.
Bastian ran a hand down his face and hoped to wipe the remnants of guilt away. Morgan sat up at his side, looked back and forth between Jodi and Rory. Bastian had never fixed her shirt, and the buttons were still askew. His brother’s gaze zeroed in on the elegant line of her collarbone before dipping to the open V of the shirt. While her breasts weren’t exposed, there was enough showing to give whoever looked an eyeful.
The swift, consuming urge to punch his brother in the face scared the shit out of him.
“Hey, Morgan.” Rory waved. He flashed a charming smile that got him whatever and whomever he wanted. “You’re looking much better this evening. Like the shirt. Sleep well?”
“Like the dead,” she muttered and pulled the top half of her shirt closed.
Rory threw his head back and laughed with his normal enthusiasm. Freshly showered and dressed in Bastian’s clothes, Rory wore jeans and a plain white T. Bastian felt like he was like looking into a mirror. Jodi turned her head. She glared at Rory before stalking fully into the room. In her furious wake, stacks of books tumbled and scattered across the floor, upsetting the order. He’d just organized those. Annoyance overrode his guilt.
“What are you doing here, Jodi?” he asked.
“Me?” His ex balked. She pointed a daggerlike nail at Morgan. “What is she doing here? You’ve never even let me inside your bedroom, and I’m your girlfriend!”
Beside him, Morgan tried to scoot away. He caught her wrist and pulled her back.
“You were never my girlfriend. And as of last week, we’re not even lovers.”
“I told you not to go in there,” Rory said. He grabbed Jodi’s shoulders and tried to pull her out of the room. “Let’s go into the living room, and you can let the man wake up.”
Jodi dug in her heels and put a hand out on either side of the doorjamb. “If we aren’t back together, then what the hell was last night when you were all over me?”
Damn Rory. Bastian knew feeding from her last night was going to come back and bite him in the ass.
Jodi yelled. “You told me you didn’t want to make love because you were tired! I can’t believe you lied to me so you could go out and fuck some slut with a bad dye job.”
Rory let out a low whistle and backed out of the door with his hands held up. Bastian wished he could follow him.
Morgan was out of bed and across the room before Bastian could blink. Fuck. Charging after her, he managed to catch her around the waist seconds before impact. Morgan’s momentum jerked him forward, and he had to spin her away from Jodi to keep the two women separated.
Struggling to get free, Morgan hissed in Jodi’s direction, “I’m no one’s slut, you jealous bitch.”
The temperature in the room plunged. Red crystals fell from Morgan’s clenched fists, a lethal magic Jodi couldn’t see. He held her arms immobile behind her back with one hand, using his above-average strength. With the other, he cupped her jaw and turned her head until his lips met skin.
He whispered into Morgan’s ear, “Jodi is human. If you touch her right now, you’re probably going to kill her. Are you prepared for that? You need to pull back your magic. You control the energy, not the other way around.”
“You’re going to let this trash talk to me like that?” Jodi seethed.
Morgan stiffened and tried to turn her head away from him. He ignored Jodi and held Morgan tighter. “I’m not letting go until you have it under control. Find the door inside you, open it, and shove the ice where it belongs.”
“Fine,” she mumbled and drew in a deep breath. After another moment, the goose bumps along her neck and chest faded. He let her go of her wrists and slid a proprietary arm around her waist. He gathered her close and ignored the smirk Rory flashed from the hallway.
Jodi looked between them with her mouth hung open. Three seconds later, her teeth snapped together, and tears filled her eyes. “You’re taking her side. I’ve done everything you’ve ever asked without question! I even agreed to your stupid no-touching rule! You’ve known her for what? One day? She must be some piece of ass.”
“Goddamn it, Jodi, drop it,” he growled, an ache forming at the base of his skull. “Nothing happened between me and you last night.” He shot a glare at Rory. “My brother should never have called you.”
“I see.” Jodi sniffled. The moisture in her eyes spilled over. “So I mean nothing to you, then.”
“You do not want me to respond to that. It’s been a real shitty few days, and I’m not in the best of moods. Just go.”
Her jaw hardened. “The reason I came here is because two of my waitresses are missing.”
Wonderful. “Did you call the authorities?”
“I’m reporting it now.”
“I don’t do missing persons.”
“You’re a cop, aren’t you?”
Bastian shook his head with a sigh. “Just go wait in the kitchen, and I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Jodi shot Morgan a murderous look before she turned, the silver hoops in her ears flashing within her wispy blonde hair, and pushed past Rory. His brother’s mouth opened as if he was going to say something. Bastian stepped to the door and shut it in Rory’s face.
He looked back to Morgan. In the struggle to hold her off Jodi, the open collar of the shirt had slipped off her shoulder. How could one bared body part be so damned sexy? His anger melted into lust.
His little kitten crossed her arms over her chest. “So, that’s your type? Blonde and bitchy?”
“No.” Two strides and he was in front of her. “It seems I’m into stubborn brunettes.”
He cupped the back of her neck and brought her against him. Not giving her a chance to protest, he pressed his mouth to hers. She tasted as sweet as he’d imagined. Her lips parted, and he delved deeper. His stomach tightened with desire at the first stroke of her tongue. When was the last time he’d kissed a woman just to kiss her?
Morgan pushed him away and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She glared at him. “Is that how you kissed Jodi last night?”
“I didn’t kiss Jodi last night. I fed from her. My mouth touched hers, yes, but I wouldn’t consider it a kiss. Kissing implies an emotional attachment. A desire to feel and taste another. What I did with Jodi was a means to an end.”
“When you say ‘fed from,’ you mean blood?”
“I need it regularly, more often if I use a lot of magic. I feed when I fuck—it’s the easiest way to do it discreetly. Jodi has no clue I’ve been taking blood from her.”
“How did she not know you were drinking her blood?” Morgan shook her head. “Never mind. Look, I should go. Thank you for helping me last night.”
Bastian stepped in front of her to block her path. “You aren’t going anywhere dressed like that.” He trailed a finger over the scar on her wrist where he’d drunk from her. “I didn’t take blood from her the way I took it from you. Normally I use magic to siphon the blood from the skin, kind of like giving someone a hickey. They don’t notice, not in the heat of the moment.”
“That seems kind of rude to just take it without asking.”
He stared at her mouth and thought about kissing her again. He thought about running his hand up her thigh and finding her sweet spot. He thought about bending her over the bed and plunging inside her wet heat.
“Trust me,” he said and eyed the hard points of her nipples, “the women I feed from get plenty in return for their donation.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Women? Plural? How many women are you currently fucking? Wait. Don’t answer. It isn’t any of my business.”
“You’re right. It’s not your business.” He was almost tempted to make it her business or tell her Jodi was the only woman he’d been with in the last few months. Her jealous glare was too cute to ruin. “Take whatever you need from the dresser. I’ve got to go get rid of Jodi.”
Not waiting for a response, he turned the knob and left Morgan alone in his bedroom.
Chapter Nine
Morgan sat on the corner of the bed and glared at the door. None of her business. She traced her still-tingling lower lip with a finger. Bastian had given her the single best kiss she’d ever had. Hot. Passionate. Possessive. The jerk probably hadn’t even been trying all that hard. He was probably out there kissing that blonde bitch.
She glanced at the rumpled sheets on the bed. Her gaze fixated on the dented pillow where she and Bastian had just lain. This led to the image of him beneath her. The differences between their bodies were palpable. Where she was soft, a little squishy in some spots, he was all hard, lean muscle. She could still feel the thick steel length of his cock nestled against her sex. Had she really woken up riding him?
Tension coiled in her stomach. Warmth gathered between her legs. Her nipples tightened, begging for something she’d never craved before. While she wasn’t a virgin, two thirty-second fumbling sessions in the dark didn’t exactly count for experience. Neither time was worth remembering. What would it feel like to have Bastian slide inside of her? To have his hands spread across her body while he pounded into her? She shouldn’t be thinking about this! Not after Ronan. Not after finding out she was an immortal necromancer. Not after having her apartment set on fire. Hell, she didn’t even have a job, had no place to go. What the fuck was she going to do now?
She looked at the door and listened to the muted sounds of conversation in the next room. She had no problems telling who was whom. Bastian and Rory exchanged a few more words, Bastian irritated, Rory amused, but both voices too muffled for her to make out the specifics. A door opened, shut, and their discussion ended.
Half a second later, a feminine whine drew a set of nails across an imaginary chalkboard. Morgan closed her eyes and got a vision of Jodi sidling up to Bastian’s side. She pictured the woman’s large breasts spilling from her low-cut V-necked sweater, pressing against Bastian’s arm as she spoke.
Was hate at first sight possible?
She could admit to herself she was jealous. Bastian had been “siphoning” from Jodi while Morgan was being tortured. How could Jodi not know he was taking blood from her? Morgan bet he was dynamite in the sack. Holy hell, just the feel of Bastian’s mouth on her skin, his tongue slowly trailing over her flesh…even that felt better than her pathetic vibrator. Perhaps the cheap, store-brand batteries were to blame.
Morgan shook her head and tried to focus.
“Come on, Bastian, one last time,” Jodi said from the other room.
The woman was probably begging for sex. And Bastian, the man whore she now guessed he was, would probably oblige. Would he screw her right there in the living room so Morgan had to hear it? Rising from the bed, she avoided the stacks of books and walked to the door.
She followed the sound of Jodi’s grating voice and moved down a narrow hall. The wood panels beneath her feet were smooth and unblemished. She passed two closed doors and wondered what was behind them. Another bedroom? An office? A BDSM playroom? As she went, Morgan trailed her finger along the rough brick wall devoid of any family pictures or art, and walked into the mouth of the living room.
In no better shape than the bedroom, the living room was littered with clothes, books, and various empty liquor bottles covering what little furniture she saw. Coffee table. End table. Standing lamp. Shoved against a dark leather couch partially covered in wrinkled blankets, she saw a laundry basket. Why was it in the living room?
She arrived just as Bastian pried Jodi’s fingers from his arm. “Not going to happen,
Jodi. Morgan’s moving in with me.”
Morgan froze midstep. Moving in? She must have made a sound, because Bastian turned and looked at her. His gaze went from annoyed to heated. As in scalding hot. Hot enough that she had an insane urge to rip off her clothes. He looked her over from her messy hair to her toes. Any urge to squirm under his intense stare vanished at the unflattering scowl puckering Jodi’s mouth.
He likes me better than her. Why was Morgan suddenly so relieved?
She straightened her spine and lifted her chin. A sexy, intimate smile curled her lips. “As much fun as last night was…I’m not moving in with you.”
Morgan sashayed across the room and took joy in the clenching fists at Jodi’s side. She stopped in front of Bastian and then grabbed the steaming mug out of his hand. The bitter aroma of coffee rumbled her stomach and soothed the nerves she repressed. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the scent. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a cup of coffee. She pressed the rim of the hot mug between her lips and cracked her eyes open to glance at Bastian.
“Help yourself,” he said, one corner of his mouth twitching.
Grinning, she trailed her gaze down his body. “Oh, I already did.”
The disgruntled sound in the back of Jodi’s throat widened Morgan’s smile. Mission accomplished. At the first tentative sip of heavenly liquid, her eyes fluttered shut. A moan fell from her lips. Who needed an orgasm when in the presence of such decadent caffeine?
She took another sip and cradled the cup close to her mouth in case Bastian tried to steal his coffee back. “This is real, isn’t it?”
“Real, as opposed to what?” He reached for his cup, and she slapped his hand away.
“Decaf. Instant. Ground in some factory in China ten years ago.”
When he let out a soft laugh, everything around them faded. There was no Jodi. No mess. No trauma from the night before.
“Then yes, it’s real. And, you’re moving in. Ron—”
Morgan held up a hand and cut him off. “No. Don’t even say his name. I’m trying to repress.”
Bastian stared at her. “Let me know how that works out for you.”
Crimson Sins Page 11