“Mr. Mernissi, the woman you are insulting is a decorated officer of the FBPR. Any attempt you make at discrediting her will be seen as an attempt to hinder her investigation of your alleged involvement in the massive wrongs perpetrated by the CCC. You will find that this branch of the Federal Government takes a dim view of those who obstruct justice.”
Su gaped. Her mother standing up for her? Since when?
“He’s alive.” Thom’s lips tucked against his teeth until his mouth disappeared into a tiny line.
“What?” Timothy wiped the tears from his eyes. All but one was turned.
“Mernissi survived,” he clarified, as though Timothy were a very small, stupid pet.
Timothy rested his face in the palm of his hand. “We put enough explosive in his office to kill a dozen hawks. What the hell happened?”
“She happened.” Thom pointed to an Asian woman with dust-coated features. “She saved his life.”
“This is Angela Block reporting from Portland’s Pearl District. Hours after the Baxter Building exploded, searchers are still pulling survivors from the wreckage.
“The police and fire departments have ruled out a gas explosion or any other mechanical failure after finding the remains of a homemade bomb under one corner. No one has come forward to claim responsibility for this atrocity.”
The camera jerked uncontrollably, as though someone had tackled the camera operator. When the image stabilized, Angela had her arm around a bruised and bloody young man. His eyes were glazed in terror, and under the dirt, his skin was pasty from blood loss.
“Are you okay?” she asked as she used the corner of her light blue linen blouse to clean away the gore.
The boy gasped for air, then grabbed the microphone from her startled grip.
“I have to say this.” His voice cracked as though he had been screaming for hours. “The Peace has been broken. It’s all my fault. I attacked them. They defended themselves.”
EMTs swarmed the two, checking on the young man’s health.
“Who defended themselves?” Angela’s reporter instincts remained firm in the midst of the chaos.
He clutched her sleeve. “The vampires. It’s all going to be my fault.”
“What is going to be your fault?”
“War.”
Jane, the director of the Tualatin Mountain Homeless Shelter, turned off the television set. The residents of the shelter muttered, the sound low but growing in hostility.
“That’s enough,” Jane said. “We don’t have the luxury of hating the humans. Jeffrey, Joshua, Jay, go to the pharmacy, buy all the emergency supplies you can think of. Mary, you go …”
Before Jane finished her sentence, Valerie had climbed out the back window unobserved. She closed it after herself with a firm shove of her boot. Digging her nails into the old building’s side, she spider-crawled to the roof.
“Motherfuckers,” she cursed.
Lance appeared beside her, his wings cradling her stiff body.
“I should have killed them,” she said. “But I didn’t.”
He touched his forehead to hers. Her once-colorful aura was again ink black, smothering even her tiny light of hope.
He’d hoped to never see her in such despair again.
“No, I got soft and saved them because they were family.” She spat out the word as though it tasted of bile. Angry, she dug her fingertips into his shoulders.
Lance shook his head, his palms coming to rest on her hip bones. He took human form as a blond man with arctic blue eyes and a body built for fucking.
“The bombs had been set long before the gang came along.” He massaged the tight obliques under his hands.
“I’m sick of war,” she whispered.
“So am I.”
Valerie tipped her head to the night sky. “The world is going to hell. Why do I want you so much?”
“Because now is the time we need love the most.”
Lance’s penis was a thing of beauty. The polished wood-smooth head was wider than the shaft. Veins circled the girth, and his heartbeat pulsed gently against her palm. The skin of his rod reminded Valerie of raw silk, slick and wet against the hard core.
She pushed him against a wall and knelt. If she moved fast, she could nick one of those pulsing veins and drink. And he would never notice that she did not allow for her own pleasure.
“Not tonight.” Lance lifted her up by her armpits. When he was in human form, he wore the shape she had fallen in love with. His thick arms and defined chest pressed against the ragged gray Henley she loved on him. His jeans cupped his package in a way that could tempt a sinner to sainthood if promised as a reward.
He remained as physically powerful as she; a man with gifts that matched and enhanced hers. Lance Soliel had made her face herself and leave her past behind.
But her past would never leave her alone.
Lance dragged his wingtips over her bare back. Unlike bird feathers, angel feathers stroked her skin like the wide silk tails of an erotic whip. Valerie closed her eyes.
Behind each touch, light poured into her body, like a sparkler in a child’s hand. She could see the radiance of Lance’s love engulfing her darkness, rekindling her strength. Her shoulder blades twitched, for love was not always comfortable. It forced her to face her fears.
She was no longer the fearless, frozen-hearted vampire of her past. Love meant she had things to lose. Right now, she was afraid of losing her tenuous grasp on the joys of Eros. She hissed through her teeth at the struggle between keeping her thoughts to herself and the impulse toward vulnerability that Lance’s touch brought her.
Lance gave a low, breathy moan. His feathers were as sensitive as the thin skin of his inner wrists. Inspired, she reached behind her and entwined her fingers around his thick flight feathers.
He rewarded her with a groan. He pressed his cock against the small of her back. Valerie sucked in air. His hardness spread warmth through her trousers.
Lance took a hold of the lapels of her jacket and pulled. The enormous gold dragon embroidered on the back stiffened the fabric enough that it protested as he lifted it off of her. He tossed the exquisite garment to the side. Valerie couldn’t protest—He trailed his tongue along the bumps of the vertebrae of her neck.
Ilona would have liked this if I had done it to her, Valerie thought. Before the idea triggered her guilt and loss, Lance shoved two fingers in her mouth.
Folklore said angels tasted of many things—stardust, gold, wildflowers, fresh rain, clean snow. Lance tasted of skin and salt. Neither Valerie nor John knew why he filled their mouths with the flavor of humanity. Perhaps because he was so strongly tied to his human form after millennia on the Wheel, attempting to earn his penance. Perhaps because those were the tastes that spoke of home and love to his beloveds.
She licked between his fingers, teasing the webbing at the base. Lance pulled them in and pushed them in, caressing her tongue.
“Mm,” she sighed. Her eyes still closed, she sucked his digits. Her suction encouraged his blood to pool in his fingertips. His veins pulsed against her lips and palate.
With his free hand, Lance unbuttoned her shirt, slowly exposing her skin to the fresh air. She had neglected to put on a bra before he teleported her. Her nipples grew even more erect as he bared her to the gaze of the heavens.
She nibbled his fingertips. Removing her hands from his wings, she clasped his hips and dragged him closer. Valerie kneaded the hard muscles she found there.
He ground against her ass. “Touch me,” he ordered.
Ever so gently, she ran a fang along the side of his index finger. A tiny line of blood opened.
“I am touching you,” she whispered around his makeshift gag.
He curled his free hand around one breast. Curling his abs, Lance dry-humped her. She threw her hands out, catching herself on the low wall of the shelter’s roof. The movement tipped her pelvis so he rubbed against her hot vulva. His cock urged him to go faster.
“Perfect,” he grunted. He withdrew his hand from her mouth and slapped her upturned ass. The sound sung like a gunshot in the night.
“What the fuck?” she hissed, annoyed but aroused by his unusual aggression.
“Taking what I want,” he said, uncaring if all of downtown Portland heard them.
The PNCs that circled the shelter looked around, searching for the sound’s origin.
Fortunately, PNCs were much more accepting of lust than mortals. Those on patrol smiled to each other and ignored the growling above.
She struggled against his grasp. Lance knew if she was truly panicking, even though she wouldn’t call it that. She was testing him, just as he was testing her.
Lance was stronger than she was. But was he strong enough to help her with the visions that ruined her sleep?
Lance subdued her, his arm wrapped around her shoulder and neck in a half nelson. He pushed until she bent all the way over, her bare chest resting on the half wall.
“You cannot hide from me,” he warned.
Robert Palmer’s “Addicted to Love” broke the tension. The front pocket of Lance’s pants vibrated against her exposed hip.
“It’s John.” Lance released her, allowing her to rotate toward him.
She chafed at his bossiness, but he was answering the call.
“Ah, mon homme et mon chou.” John’s image came through the small screen. “I see I have called at just the right time.” The purr of sex in his voice told them exactly what John was thinking. His face was flushed, his voice breathing the endearments directly to their genitals. Valerie’s clit grew heavy and hot. Lance ground his bigger erection against her mons.
“I was just thinking of you both,” John continued. He tipped his phone enough for Valerie and Lance to see his nude body.
“I see we are on the same page,” Lance murmured, his voice a silky rumble next to Valerie’s ear. His breath sent goose pimples down her arm, brightening her aura with his angel’s touch.
“Mmmm,” John exhaled as he stroked his thighs, framing his cock for their viewing pleasure.
Valerie’s vagina swelled and poured moisture onto her thighs. That was the noise he made when she tightened her grip on his beautiful penis.
“Would it not arouse you to be forced to watch our ange and I delight each other?” John’s French accent blurred his words together until they ran together like liquid heat. Valerie’s nipples tightened further.
Lance ran his thumb over her breasts, molding and pinching her sensitized skin.
She pressed her ass against Lance’s crotch. “Fuck me,” she demanded. She wouldn’t lose control. She couldn’t. The minute she let go, the visions of death and horror came back. But if she could be in command of everything, she would be fine.
Valerie didn’t notice the glance the two men exchanged through the video call.
“Do my eyes on you excite?” John asked. Through the pixilated screen, they both watched as he teased the head of his cock with his thumb and forefinger.
“Yes.” Valerie’s secret and her atonement had limited her sexual experiences. She’d always been the voyeur, not the exhibitionist. Not hiding who or what she was doing exhilarated her. It felt like taking off an ill-fitting suit of armor she’d worn for decades.
Lance unzipped her pants and pulled the opening wide. Her black pubic hair sprung free, as soft as his wings. He peeled her outer lips back, exposing the pink and purple furls of her inner labia.
“Can you see?” he asked John.
“Oui.” John further responded by stroking his thumb over the sensitive spot at the base of his cock, right above his tightening balls.
Valerie’s teeth bore down through her gums. She swore she could smell hot apples, the scent of John’s arousal. Lance’s clove aroma weakened her further. She wanted to fall, wanted to let them take her to where she knew they could lead.
She closed her eyes.
Mina’s broken ribs pierced her skin red and white and black on the Shelby …
Valerie shuddered. If the visions continued, she would not be able to stop the vampires who had started this mess. She would be useless. The responsibility of the next world war would land directly on her shoulders.
“She’s thinking,” Lance said.
“Stop her.”
No. She would not make them take care of her. She would not allow this.
… the dead eyes of another woman she couldn’t protect …
Pain above her jugular startled her.
“Ouch!” She opened her eyes. “What the hell?”
Lance growled like a hell-dog as he worried his blunt teeth deeper into the tight muscle between her shoulder and her neck. “Be with us,” he murmured. The vibration of his words prickled her skin. Her nipples thrust out in response. The hood of her clitoris retracted.
Lance lowered her pants until they hit the gravel of the rooftop. Dead bugs, cigarette butts, and hot tar coated the roof, but Valerie was never the sort to care. Messy clothes were the last thing on her mind.
He steadied her with one hand, the other busy with the phone. He aimed the camera at her, showing her off to John.
Physical power and willpower were her specialties. Sexual power? Something she’d not let herself experience before she met Lance.
She licked a fang. Practice did make perfect.
Valerie planted her rear on the half wall. Her shirt fluttered in the light wind, playing peekaboo with her swollen breasts and tight nipples. She ran her hand down her abdomen, caressing her navel before laying a finger alongside her clitoris.
John exhaled and pressed his hips toward his stroking fist. Lance’s wings disappeared. With an exhale of his own, he floated the camera in midair, letting it hover above her wet pussy.
“You ready for me?” he challenged, dropping his own pants to the roof beneath them. His cock, heavy and engorged, hung low. The blue veins under his skin tempted her with their pulsing heat. She wanted that in her.
She peeled her lips away from her lips, baring her fangs in a display of appetite. Her eyelids lowered until she studied him through narrow slits.
“Come and get me.”
The camera flitted closer until it floated above her belly button. Lance stepped closer.
His thick head pressed against her opening. He was huge and her vagina engorged tight. He grunted like a feral animal as he entered her. She clenched her molars together. The flaring edge of his cock rubbed her G-spot. He teased her, sliding that flaring rim back and forth over the sensitive bundle of nerves. His angel aura, mixed gold and platinum light, penetrated her the same time as his dick.
“Faster.” Valerie leaned back on her hands, presenting her body to both the camera and Lance’s eyes. “Fuck me like you mean it.”
Hard and fast meant she was in control.
John laughed, his dark side emerging in response to her demands.
Lance grasped her hips tight. “Just like our first kiss, darling,” he reminded her. “Play with me.”
Her throat constricted. She couldn’t lose this contest of wills.
“Non,” John panted. Precome dripped down his cock and had coated his balls. Valerie knew how that slippery fluid tasted, how it felt inside of her, how it coated her fingers when she breached Lance. She breathed through her fangs, cooling them so she could burn faster.
“None of us will come until we are together,” John said.
Lance’s cock stiffened further. Valerie’s body relaxed, engulfing more deeply and more comfortably.
No orgasm, no flashback.
“Damn, yes,” Lance punctuated his approval with a hard thrust. “You’re a genius.”
“I do my humble best,” John smirked. With both hands, he wiped the sweat from his chest. “I want us to be primed for anything.” Their lover teased his brown nipples. “Until you beg for a simple touch.”
Lance cupped his balls and tugged. “Hell,” he blasphemed. “Don’t say things like that.”
Valerie contracted her vag
inal muscles, milking him from root to tip.
His hand came down, slapped her inner thigh. Valerie’s blood ran hot enough for her to pink up like a human.
“Stop now.” Lance’s tone was crisp and blunt. “Both of you.”
The phone’s screen was small, but Valerie could see John reluctantly place his hands palm down on the duvet. He fisted the fabric as he resisted the urge to take his engorged cock back in hand.
The speaker carried his panting to his lovers’ ears. The two men grunted in unison as Lance withdrew from Valerie’s pussy. He laid his cock above her cleft. It throbbed like a white-hot poker on her skin; a heat that healed rather than burned.
Lance’s pulse returned to normal. John’s penis softened and lost its harsh purple cast. The angel and the vampire touched foreheads.
“I wish I were there,” John whispered. He was their Guide, the star that always led them to truth. “I would kiss you both as we looked over that lovely city.”
The small gestures, the gentle words, transformed her cold anxiety into tender warmth. She swam in the love of her family. If they trusted in each other, nothing would stop them.
CHAPTER 12
Radu was glad he didn’t need to breathe. Death had its own smell, one he found comforting, but tonight, the nasty blade of methamphetamines sliced through it, fouling the air.
The stone walls of the old pump house would have been comforting and cozy for the giant horned vipers, probably reminding them of an earthen den. Long, colorful cushions and radiators, warm necessities of life, once lined the floor but now were shredded and punctured by the mated pair’s anger at the attack on their clutch.
The nursery, a round pit in the floor of the hut, would normally have been tucked with electric blankets to keep the eggs warm while they incubated. Colorful ceramic bowls of water and minced meat, once neatly arranged on the lip of the pit to welcome the babies when they hatched, lay crushed and leaking over the entire floor.
Radu squatted, balancing on his toes away from the muck spilling from the eggs.
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