“I was happy to, but we never made a deal where I’d be your new donor.”
Deirdre’s whimper hurts my ears. “Is she there now? Are they both there?”
He looks at us. Shane reaches out, offering to take the phone, but Jeremy shakes his head.
“I don’t know where they are.” Jeremy winces as Deirdre raises her voice, calling him a liar. Vampires can not only smell a lie, we can also hear it in the timbre of voices we know well. “I thought the DJs were giving you a couple of Jim’s donors, plus all the bank blood you need.”
“They are, but I want you. I like you.” Her voice goes low and seductive. “If you want, we could just hang out, see what happens. No biting.”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“Is that so bad?” she shrieks. “Am I too old for you?”
He holds the phone away from his ear. “Jeez, no! I have a girlfriend.”
“I’ve seen your girlfriend. I know where she works. Does she know what you do with Ciara?”
His face freezes. “Um—”
“She doesn’t know the truth about vampires, does she? Maybe it’s time she found out the hard way.”
“Don’t you dare touch Lea.”
“Silly, I don’t mean I’d show her the hard way. I meant you would. Jeremy, I could give you what you want,” she purrs. “I could turn you.”
Jeremy’s face goes blank, his eyes vacant. I’ve seen that look on game-show contestants, the moment before the reality of their megabucks-win sinks into their brains.
I grab the phone, barely beating Shane. “Deirdre, this is way out of line. You can’t take care of a fledgling. You can barely feed yourself.”
“You’re not Jeremy’s mother. He can do what he wants.”
I look at my friend sitting in front of me. Though we’re the same age, I’ve always considered him kind of a teenager, the way he dwells in fantasy and experiences every emotion at such great heights and depths. But Deirdre’s right: Jeremy’s a man who can make decisions for himself.
“Don’t do this,” I tell her. “You’ll both regret it.”
She lets out a drunken cackle. “We’ll see.” She hangs up.
Jeremy hunches over, his whole body folding in on itself. He looks exhausted and beaten.
“We can’t stop you,” Shane says. “But you need to wait at least two weeks from tonight. If you try to change before that, you won’t have enough blood to finish. You’ll die for good.”
Jeremy nods slowly as he raises his hazel eyes to meet Shane’s. “Two weeks, then.” He lets out a sigh, then picks up the remote from the coffee table and turns the stereo volume up. “I’ll walk you guys out.”
I laugh a little, since the door is only ten feet away. “Thanks for, you know.” I give Jeremy my hand to help him stand, my muscles singing with new strength.
“You’re welcome. And thank you.” He manages a crooked smile as he walks us to the door and undoes the dead bolt.
I follow Shane out, then stop and turn to Jeremy. “When you said, ‘Two weeks, then,’ did you mean two weeks to make your decision?”
He answers as he swings the door shut. “Two weeks to tell life good-bye.”
18
True Faith
Deirdre’s phone call has not only killed Jeremy’s blood buzz but Shane’s and mine, too. The mood on our drive home is tense and sad.
“You think she’ll really turn Jeremy?” I ask him.
“She was impulsive and reckless even before she had Jim’s blood in her, so yeah. Then she’ll regret it later.”
A jolt of empathy hits me. “I wonder if she wants another kid, now that she’s lost Ben. Someone who needs her.”
Shane’s fingers twitch on the steering wheel. “I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re probably right.”
His phone rings. I can see its screen where it sits on the console in front of the gearshift. Deirdre. He hits Ignore, then shuts the power off.
I think about my own turning, exchanging my blood for Monroe’s. Moments of peace interspersed with long periods of agony. “I could never do it, not even to save someone’s life.”
“You think that now,” Shane says, “but when the time comes—when Lori or one of your parents gets hurt or sick—the decision will tear you apart.”
I look at his face in the soft blue glow of the satellite radio screen. Regina’s weekly three-hour show on the punk channel is playing, but the volume is turned down to nearly zero. “When you knew I would die, did you consider turning me?”
“Every moment.”
“Even though you thought it’d make you a murderer, and me a suicide, and we’d both go to hell.”
“Yep.” His lips go toothpick straight, then soften again. “Even though,” he whispers.
I feel a pang in my chest, as if my heart has literally expanded from the incremental but sudden increase in my love for Shane.
He stops at the traffic light a block from our house, then turns his head to look at me full on. When his eyes meet mine, his pupils dilate and his mouth opens half an inch. I want to gaze into the darkness of one and fill the other.
He takes my hand and pulls it to his lips. I slip one finger inside. And just like that, the blood is flowing again.
The light turns green, the tires squeal.
In less than a minute we’re in our apartment. From the sofa, Dexter quickly raises his head and wags his tail, then returns to his nap. Miracle.
I shut the door behind us and go to turn the top dead bolt. Shane’s hand covers mine, his skin burning hot.
By the time the locks click shut, his other hand is under my shirt, his mouth at my neck. He slides against me, hard against my ass, making me squirm.
Part of me wants to take him right here, right now, against the door. I hate waiting.
But knowing someone wants to kill us, knowing what the days ahead might bring, gives me one certainty.
“Shane . . .” I can barely get his name out between gasps. “I want you to bite me.”
“What? Huh? What?” He pushes himself away from me and steps back. “What if you’re not ready?”
“I am ready. I want to try again.”
Shane gives me a sidelong look. “I don’t feel like getting punched tonight.”
“I promise I won’t punch you, or throw you against a wall.” I take his hand and lead him toward our bedroom.
“You can’t promise. You can’t stop a reflex.” He drags his feet as we cross the threshold. “And if you break the wall with my head, we won’t get our security deposit back.”
“I know.” Reaching our bed, I open the bottom drawer of our nightstand. “So you’ll have to tie me up.”
His gaze freezes on the set of handcuffs I’m displaying. “Oh.”
I shake the cuffs, jingling the chain. “We know they’re strong enough to hold me. Heck, they’re strong enough to hold you.”
“It’s not that.” Shane is clearly having trouble breathing. “I just—after what happened to you . . .”
With Jim, he means. Having my throat half torn out. “It was bad. But since then, I’ve bitten David, I’ve bitten Jeremy, I’ve bitten you. I didn’t hurt any of you. It was nice. With you, better than nice.”
He takes a tentative step closer. “Do you really want to be bitten, or do you just think you should want to be bitten?”
“I won’t lie and say I’m not afraid. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want it.” I lay the cuffs in his palm. “It doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”
He swallows, then touches my face with warm, trembling fingers. “I promise I’ll make it worth it.”
I sit on the bed, then pull off my shirt and bra. “You take off the rest after you tie me up. Our usual safe word?”
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Lie down.”
I don’t say the safe word, “Ravens,” out loud, because nothing snaps Steelers fanatic Shane out of a sexual reverie like the name of his least favorite football team.
I lie
on my back, but when he slips one cuff over my wrist, something feels wrong.
“Wait. This’ll be better.” I turn to lie on my stomach.
“You sure?”
“This way it’ll be different than, you know, before.” When Jim bit me. “Plus, easier access to the best part of my neck.”
Shane leans over me, loops the handcuff’s long chain around the reinforced-steel bed frame (specially built for vampires), then fastens the other cuff over my left wrist. “How’s that?”
“Perfect.”
He lies next to me and brushes the hair out of my face, smoothing it back over the curve of my shoulder. “What’s this about?”
I meet his eyes, the pale blue barely visible in the low light. “We might die soon. That’s what this is about.”
His eyes narrow with a new ferocity. “No way I’ll let that happen.”
He leaps out of bed, so quickly I wonder if he’s gotten mad and changed his mind. Instead he jerks open his belt buckle and jeans. He shoves them to the floor along with his boxers, then tears off his shirt.
Shane climbs atop me, then kisses a trail down my spine until my back is arched with need. His hand slips around the front of my own jeans, and I sigh at the feel of his fingers between my legs, even through the thick denim. He unzips me and slips a hand inside, over my panties.
“Tell me when to do everything,” he whispers.
I groan at his command. It gives me a sense of power, even as I relinquish that power to him. “Take it all off me.”
In a few moments I’m naked.
“Your mouth, everywhere.”
He starts at my toes and moves up, his hands a few inches ahead of his lips. Shane’s human teeth scrape and bite at the backs of my knees, then my thighs, and then . . . he lifts my hips, spreads my legs, and gives me his mouth and fingers.
I writhe and moan, jerking at the chain that binds me. He takes me close to the edge but lets me hold on. I want to come later, with him inside me and his mouth at my neck, tasting me at my fullest.
Maybe not too much later, though.
“Fuck me. Now.”
Obeying immediately, Shane moves forward and above me, sliding his hot, smooth chest against my back, and then finally himself inside me.
For a moment I forget about the biting and savor the feel of every inch of him, meeting his long, slow thrusts with my own. For a moment, this is enough. For a moment, this is everything.
Shane’s hand slips around my waist and down. He strokes me, inside and out, in a perfect rhythm, but I can’t come, not yet, because when I do, he’ll sink his teeth into me. And yes, I’m still afraid.
He stops, sensing my hesitation. “Ciara,” he whispers behind my ear. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He’s giving me one last chance to back out, avoid the pain, pretend I’m still human, still fragile.
But I’m not. I’ll never be a real vampire—at least in my own mind—until I can do this.
I turn my head to the side, wishing I could touch his face. But my hands are bound, so I slowly lift my hips, grinding them against his. “You’ll never hurt me.”
Shane pulls in an unsteady breath, maybe overwhelmed at the trust I’ve put in him. He sweeps my hair off my neck, then inches forward, filling me up, deep and sweet. I let out a moan.
The next breath I draw is cut short by the feel of his fangs on my skin.
“Breathe,” he whispers. “Keep breathing, no matter what.”
I do as he says.
“Good.” He runs his tongue, hot and wet, over my skin. “And remember I love you.”
The pain spikes into me. I cry out, jerking my arms to punch, but I’m trapped here, under him. Shane goes deeper, and not just with his teeth. He seems to expand inside me, stretching me mercilessly with his unyielding hardness.
The pain shoots out from the back of my neck, burning toward the tips of my fingers and toes, like lines of gunpowder leading to bundles of dynamite.
It arrives, and explodes, everywhere at once.
My mind turns pure white with fire. I’ve lost the breath to scream. Yet somehow, I manage to choke out a strangled, pleading “Yes . . .”
Shane groans in assent, sinking his teeth to the hilt. My body convulses with wave after wave of delirium. I hear him gasp when I come.
“Oh God, you taste . . . oh God.” His voice is muffled with the flow of my life into him.
The world bursts apart at the seams and all my senses collide. I see sounds and hear smells and taste light. My mind flashes and spins like a carousel out of control.
Slowly, inexorably, it all fades, and the world returns to normal. Normal, but never the same again.
Shane rests on top of me, holding his weight on his hands. He licks the back of my neck, collecting the last few drops, or maybe just soothing me like a cat grooming its mate. His tongue trembles, as does the rest of both of us.
Finally he collapses beside me. I turn my head to gaze at him.
His eyes half-closed, he sweeps his fingertips over my shoulder. “If you never want to do that again, I understand. Even this once has been more than I could ever ask for.”
“Are you kidding? That was literally out of this world. I now believe in astral planes, because I’m pretty sure I wasn’t here for about a minute.”
His eyes open wide, shining into mine. “Really?”
“Really. Now uncuff me.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” Shane grabs the key from the nightstand.
“I promise, no retroactive punching.”
“After that, you can punch me all you want. You can do anything to me.” He frees my right wrist, then the left, then lies beside me again with a heavy sigh. “Are you okay?”
“I think you already know the answer.” I reach out and trace the line of his collarbone. “It’s weird: tied up and held down and bitten, I’ve never felt so powerful. I wish we hadn’t waited so long.”
“I’m glad we waited.” Shane pulls me into his arms. “It was . . .” He doesn’t finish the sentence, and he doesn’t have to. For once I don’t need words.
We lie together, letting our breath slow, falling into the same rhythm, finally the same.
19
A Murder of One
An hour before dawn, Shane and I decide to go to the station so we can spend part of the day planning Monday’s wake for Jim. Two of the main Control operatives, Agent Rosso and Captain Henley, along with our combat trainer, Captain Elijah Fox, have been guarding the place all night and have some thoughts on how best to protect the station from an attack.
So we pack up Dexter and head for WVMP. With Kashmir on the loose, we can’t bear the thought of leaving the dog alone.
I enter the lounge and walk past the other vampires, a secret triumph humming through my veins. I finally conquered my fear of being bitten. Lori will be thrilled. In fact, she probably won’t even mind if I call to tell her.
I pull out my phone as we enter the DJs’ apartment, but as usual I’m getting a spotty signal here. Sometimes Shane has better luck.
“Can I try your phone to call Lori?” I ask him.
“Why, whatever could you have to tell her?” He smiles at me as he hands me his phone.
“You forgot to turn it back on last night.” I watch the screen while it searches for a signal. His bedroom often has the best reception, so I open his door.
As I step across the threshold, his phone buzzes in my hand.
IO VOICE MAILS, the screen flashes.
Oh, crap. I hit Play.
“Shane!” Deirdre’s terror comes through on the first word.
Shane drops his duffel bag and zips to my side.
“They’re coming for me,” she says through the speaker. “I’m at home, but I don’t know if it’s safe to stay.” A long pause. “Call me.” Click.
He goes completely still, his eyes frozen on mine. I skip to the next message, from an hour later.
“Shane? It’s me, Deirdre. Ignore my other voice mail. Sorr
y if I sounded panicky. Everything’s okay.” The tension in her voice belies her words. “I was just being paranoid. Hey, we should get together for lunch like we talked about.”
“We never said we’d meet for lunch.” Shane takes the phone and steps farther into his room, leaving the door open. “It’s gotta be a signal that something’s wrong.”
He plays the message again, louder. As he listens, he cocks his head and peers intently at the wall. “I hear someone breathing in the background. Clothes shifting.”
I can’t hear it, but he’s got fifteen vampire years on me.
“The next one’s from her number, too,” he says as he hits a button on the phone.
Her number, but not her voice.
“Shane, Shane, Shane.” The man lets out a long sigh. “I don’t know how these phone message mails work, but I think you do. So I can’t understand why you’d ignore one from your old lover. Is it because of that new girl, Ciara?” He pronounces it See-AIR-ah. “I pity you, being too young to experience free love. Things became so uptight in the eighties, when you finally got laid. By then, sex killed. And not just sex with vampires.”
“Kashmir.”
We turn to see Noah, his light-brown eyes going round and wide behind his glasses. His mouth hangs open after saying the name.
The caller sighs again, but the noise can’t cover Deirdre’s muffled voice in the background. It sounds like she’s wearing a gag. My heart races faster.
“Where was I?” Kashmir sounds genuinely distracted. “Oh, right. I’m taking Deirdre for a walk, a little gift for my blood sister. See, I remember being her age. As a human, I was a surfer, and I used to love to get up before dawn and hit those early waves. During my first year as a vampire, the thing I missed most was sunrises. So I want to give Deirdre that gift of one last sunrise.”
My stomach plummets. I grab the edge of the dresser for support. Shane’s head whips around to look at the clock: 6:09—fifteen minutes until morning twilight.
Unless she’s right around the corner, we can’t save her without burning up ourselves.
“Don’t worry,” Kashmir continues. “You’ll be able to say good-bye. To Deirdre and to Ciara.” This time he pronounces my name right. “Shane, I’ll be seeing you.”
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