The shower water had long ago lost its heat, but even the liquefied shards of ice couldn't help to quell the steady grow of the fire in her belly. There was nothing but Ryker—nothing but the naked feel of him plunging into a part of her that had too long felt open and bare. Vacant. Her pussy clenched him hard every time he sank home, her hips battling his incessant need to pull away from her.
"So good." He growled, and dipped his head to tease her nipple. "Nothing's ever felt so good."
"You're—lying."
Ryker's brow furrowed. "Does it feel like I'm lying?"
"Ryker, please—"
"Please. What?"
"I need. I need—"
"You need to come?"
The illicit smacks of his flesh hitting hers were making reality blink out again. Her vaginal walls clenched and her skin about melted off.
"You need it?"
"Yes. Yes." The words were out before her mind could catch up. "Yes, God, Ryker."
"Tell me."
"I need you. Ryker, please."
Something behind his gaze changed, baring him open to her, and she drank everything in. Ryker murmured and moved hard, again, again, his thrusts anxious, feverish, pushing into her with desperation. And with every plunge inside, she squeezed, the slippery slide of his flesh driving her into a new form of insanity, her pussy tightening and grasping him so hard the moans he gave her were almost riddled with pain.
His fingers kept busy at her clit, rubbing her fast but softly. His hungry eyes devoured her, swallowing every pleasured gasp, every euphoric sigh. He was so beautiful, and hers. He had become hers at some point. Perhaps they had been designed this way.
And she wanted to keep him forever.
Izzie made a decision then—a fast one. One she didn't question and knew he couldn't refuse, even if he wanted to.
"Bite me." The words rode out on a gasp. "Bite me now."
Any sign of resistance was fleeting. Then there was a flash of fang and a sting at her throat, and ecstasy so raw exploded that the blackness behind the fireworks consumed her, and the world fell away.
* * * * *
Ryker performed a cursory sweep of the cabin, checking for the last time for anything they had left out of place. It wasn't as though the owners wouldn't realize someone had broken in—the front lock was now useless, a good amount of the canned goods were gone, and Izzie had packed about every article of clothing she found in the bedroom. She'd also helped herself to the stock of toiletries in the bathroom, and he didn't ask why. The life she'd led up until a few days ago hadn't allowed much room for luxuries, and the only possessions she was allowed were what she could carry.
"That's it," Ryker said, approaching the front door. "All clear."
Izzie crossed her arms anxiously. She hadn't slept much, as the second dose of his bite had fueled her with nervous energy. He'd held her to his chest while the worst of it passed to keep her from accidentally breaking a dresser or taking a door off its hinge. The second stage for transitioning vampires was the worst in most cases, and typically led to a junkie-like need for another taste of death before a day had passed. If he'd been thinking clearly, he wouldn't have bitten her at all. Not without explaining again that she was on the path to becoming a vampire, and that where the first stage had brought about energy and strength, her body chemistry was too exhausted by the second bite to predict how she'd handle it.
The worst seemed over now. Izzie looked tired but at least her eyes were back to normal.
It'd be easy. It'd be so easy to take her in his arms and finish it. The third bite would render her unconscious, and he'd be with her all the way. Driving them somewhere nice and cozy, and when she awoke, he'd help her adjust to her new life. To start planning an endless future with the woman he loved.
It couldn't end that simply. He knew better. If she wanted it, she'd ask. Hopefully he'd have enough control to make sure it was what she wanted before he gave her the finishing touches.
"What happens now?" Izzie asked.
"I figure we head back to St. Louis. I owe Michael a chat." And a swift, brutal killing. Or a long and painful one. He hadn't decided. "And then it's up to you."
"Up to me?"
Ryker nodded. "What do you want?"
"Do—do you want me to stay with you?"
Questions like this threw him off balance, even more so when he realized it was authentic doubt rather than insecurity. And then something occurred to him that he should have recognized right off: Izzie had no experience dealing with the world's kinder emotions. She'd already explained the hellish conditions of her upbringing as well as what had followed. Wright hadn't taught her anything but how to take the pain of her father's house and channel them into a hatred of all things that went bump in the night.
Even the night she'd lost her virginity, from what Ryker gathered, hadn't been tender and sweet, rather direct and matter-of-fact. Thus when she looked at him with such wide eyes and genuine confusion, when she didn't know how to respond to him when he said he loved her, or demanded he repeat it, it was because love was more unreal to her than anything that had happened in Briggs's cell.
Ryker sighed, his shoulders slumping. She broke his heart without even trying.
"Do you want to stay with me?" he asked.
Izzie licked her lips. "I . . . ."
"I won't make you stay with me."
"You love me, though."
Ryker took a step forward and nodded again. "I do. But you don't need to stay with me because I love you. I want you to—if you stay with me, I want it to be because it's what you want to do."
"But I do."
"You do?"
"I want to stay with you. I . . . ." Izzie expelled a deep breath and glanced down. "I'm no good at this, Ryker. I don't know what to do or what not to do, and I don't know if I can ever know if I love you, too. But you're the only person I can see myself with."
"That took me right off my feet," he deadpanned.
She rolled her eyes. "See, and that's it. How do people say these things to each other every day? I don't know what love is or if what I feel for you is love at all or anything, but I know I want to be with you as long as you want me with you."
"And not out of fear?"
Izzie shook her head. "I'm not afraid of being on my own."
"Yes you are. You're fucking terrified of being on your own."
"I managed once and I can manage again."
"We all manage. Doesn't make you any less afraid." Ryker broke away. "Look, I'm set. You know where I stand. If you want me, I'm yours. All the fucking way. You're all I want. Just you. Today, tomorrow, and forever on. But I don't wanna be your escape plan, you hear. It's real for me."
"It is for me, too."
"How do you know?"
Izzie huffed and offered an exaggerated shrug. "I don't know how I know, I just do. I told you before, when I busted you out . . . I told you I didn't fake it."
"And then you needed space."
"You're the one who came into my room last night."
Ryker's brow furrowed. How in the world had they started arguing? "Izzie—"
Her hands came up. "I don't know what I feel. Everything's been a little fuzzy for me. But I know I want whatever this is to be love. I know I want to love you. I don't know if that's enough, but—"
The space around him blurred, and Ryker didn't realize he'd moved until he had her in his arms, her lips against his and her voice fading in his mouth. He kissed her breathless, kissed her until her body sagged and her tongue gave into the dance of his. She melted and sighed, her hands finding his cheeks and keeping him there, battling, needing, tasting him, and all at once nothing mattered.
"That's enough," he assured her between kisses. "That's always enough. Just say you'll stay."
"I'll stay."
"You want to."
Izzie nodded and he kissed her again, and it was enough. Something had clicked. Something else he should have realized, should have seen since she opened the
cell door to save him before she thought of saving herself.
He felt it now, and perhaps he'd felt it longer without acknowledging it. Words were just that—words. They didn't equal the sentiment of feeling, and he'd have them when she was ready. When she didn't second-guess what she felt.
Izzie did love him. She just didn't know it yet.
Chapter Eighteen
There were times experience made familiar places look different. Standing outside The Wall with Briggs and the cell behind him, and with love for Izzie burning his chest, nothing looked as he remembered.
God, he had never been so grateful to be home in his life.
"The Wall," Izzie said. She stood beside him, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable.
"You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy." Ryker grinned, but it faded when he registered the vacant look on her face. "What?"
Izzie arched an eyebrow. "What the hell was that?"
"It's a Star Wars quote."
She stared a moment longer, then barked a laugh. "Wow."
"What?"
"I didn't know vamps could be nerdy."
He frowned. "We can be whatever we like. And I'm not nerdy."
"Sure."
"It's a well-known movie."
"That you have memorized."
"And a well-known line," Ryker said defensively, though he couldn't pretend to be irritated long. The mirth in her eyes had him higher than a paper kite. Whatever it took to keep it in place, he would do without argument.
"Whatever, nerd."
"Bite your tongue."
She grinned and shuffled her feet before directing her gaze forward once more. "I feel different. Do you?"
"Things have changed. Last time I was here, I hadn't any experience being a lab rat." He sighed. "Home sweet fucking home."
"You consider this place home?"
"As close as I've come. 'Til you, of course."
"Me?"
He nodded. "Home is where the heart is. Isn't that what they say?"
Izzie's cheeks tinged but she didn't take the bait. Instead, she said, "I thought Connor was nice."
"He is. Dumb as a mailbox, but kinder than most." Ryker shrugged. "I like The Wall, too. Feels like neutral territory. All manner of creatures can come in here without feeling like they need to look over their shoulder. It's why I tailed you, remember?"
"To make sure I wouldn't mess things up."
"That's right."
"For you and your vampire friends."
"Don't think it's limited to just vampires, sweets," Ryker replied. "We get shifters, demons, lions, tigers, and bears, oh my."
"Wizard of Oz."
"Oh, that one you know?"
"Just the line."
He decided against goading her about her lack of cinematic knowledge since her upbringing had been more than sheltered. For the first time, he had to wonder how much of the underworld she'd really experienced. Vampires weren't the only otherworldly creatures. They were, perhaps, the most publicized thanks to pop culture, but not the most populous, or even the most dangerous.
Had Wright's late wife been chow to another sort of beast, Izzie might never have crossed Ryker's path. It was for want of vampire blood she was here at all.
As though sensing his thoughts, Izzie inhaled and said, "Zack and I both knew vampires weren't the only supernaturals."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. We even ran into a few, but I guess I'd always thought . . . I don't know how to say this."
"That we were the baddest of the bad?"
"Or something," she agreed. "The night your cousin snatched us up, there was some sort of lizard-creature here."
"A hisser." Izzie looked at him askance, and he shrugged. "That's what we call them, at least."
"A hisser?"
"I'm sure they have an actual name. We just call them hissers. If they shift into something warm-blooded, we call them fuzzies."
"Fuzzies?"
"'Cause of the fur," he elaborated. "You know . . . fuzzy."
"Wow. You guys get top pick at the Lame Name Awards. What do they call you?"
"Bloodsucker," Ryker replied. "Or leech, if they wanna be really nasty."
"Nice."
He chuckled and shook his head, then reached for her arm. "Come on. You gotta be hungry for something other than canned noodles."
Ryker hadn't any idea what day it was, but he guessed the weekend was near by the size of the crowd. The Wall's patrons seemed to multiply the closer the week grew to Friday, as that was when the streets thickened with tourists.
Connor stood behind the bar, polishing a smudge on the counter with a rag and looking even more miserable than usual. The stains on his wife-beater tank were at least three days old and hadn't yet seen a wash cycle. A second dishrag lay across his left shoulder, and the layer of sweaty grease that seemingly coated every inch of his skin made him almost shine under the bar's weak lighting.
Connor might be a disgusting slob of a human being, but Ryker had never been more relieved to a man in his life. He tightened his hold around Izzie's arm and pulled her through the crowd toward bar.
Connor didn't look up. "What's yer poison?"
"Bloody Mary, hold the Mary. Or give me a lot, depending on the source."
The polishing stopped. "Now where the flying fuck have you been?" Connor demanded, his head whipping up.
The concern in his eyes betrayed his tone, and though Ryker wasn't sure how much he liked the idea of being worried after, it was appreciated all the same.
"Miss me?" he asked.
"Miss ya? I tought that skinny thing offed yer good and proper. Sent 'er after ya and didn't hear nufink."
"You mean this skinny thing?" Ryker asked, nodding to Izzie.
"Hi," Izzie said.
Connor's brow gathered, confusion setting in. "Oh, 's you."
"Skinny Thing Numero Uno," she agreed. "And former demon hunter. I've officially resigned."
Ryker's lips quirked at her tone, and the bartender's gaze flickered between them.
"Yer with him now?"
There was no hesitation in her voice. "Yes. I am."
Connor huffed, his squinty eyes narrowing on Izzie. "Ya know, a guy come lookin' fer you ta other night."
She deflated at the news. "Oh?"
"Ya. Wuddn't ta friendly sort, neither. Made my customers jumpy. Jumpy customers ain't happy customers." He paused and waved at them. "Now where'd the two of yous come from?"
"It's a long story," Izzie replied. She sounded slightly distracted, but didn't otherwise react.
"Too long for out here," Ryker added. "Care to take this to your office?"
Connor shook his head. "Jus' me t'night. Have to clear 'er out."
It was a testament to how much Connor trusted him. Clearing out the bar on a crowded night was a costly move, but the man did so without flinching. After hollering last call and swatting off the groans and protests, he disappeared into the kitchen and didn't emerge until Ryker had shown the last patron to the door.
"Ya din't eat before," Connor all but growled at Izzie. "Fryin' ya up a burger. Tink you'll find yer appetite?"
Ryker stifled a grin when Izzie's eyes widened. He was nearly surprised she didn't drool.
"Oh God, yes."
"Dunno how yer skinnier than before, but ya need meat on them bones." Connor wheezed as though she offended him and then waddled back into the kitchen. When he reappeared this time, he had a heaping plate of greasy burger and a mountain of fries, which he shoved unceremoniously across the counter. "Eat 'er up, girlie."
Izzie didn't need to be told twice. She dove into the food with all the markings of a girl who didn't know from where her next meal would come.
"Beer?" Connor asked.
"Give the lady a glass of water," Ryker said. "I'll take a beer."
Connor poured and served, then leaned back and crossed his arms. "'M all ears. Start yer yappin'."
Ryker glanced at Izzie. She was too occupied
with her burger to speak, but she nodded her permission. He hadn't realized he needed it until that moment. He wanted to make sure her secrets were his to tell.
"The last night she was in here—the night you tried to make her eat—"
"An' she wouldn't." Connor sniffed. This was clearly still a sore spot.
Izzie looked up, her cheeks full and her eyes contrite.
"Oh, lay off," Ryker said. "The girl was just being cautious."
She swallowed. "Stupid. This is delicious."
"Damn right," Connor muttered.
Ryker groaned. "Not the point. She was grabbed after she left here."
"Grabbed?"
He reached for his beer and downed a hearty gulp. "By my cousin."
This revelation took a few seconds to sink in. "Yer cousin?" Connor repeated. "Since when didja have a cousin?"
The whole story regarding Michael, Caroline, and the business back in Natchez had the effect of a stone sitting in his stomach. Nonetheless, Connor had a right to know—especially for the favor Ryker was about to ask. He rushed through the account as painlessly as possible, doing his best not to blink when he recounted draining a dying Caroline or the confrontation with Michael years later in the cemetery. Discussing the recent events seemed more bearable. He could access his frustration without guilt—for while Michael had cause for his outrage where Caroline was concerned, he had targeted Izzie for no reason aside from the fact that she had captured Ryker's interest.
"Yer cousin grabbed 'er then, diddee? After she wuddn't eat my food."
Izzie polished off the last of her burger, scowling at Connor. "I'm eating it now, aren't I?"
The bartender grunted, looking particularly flushed.
"Told you Connor was proud of his cooking," Ryker replied, tossing back another mouthful of beer.
"Just seems silly to keep focusing on that," she said.
"So why don't you change the subject and tell the nice man about your conversation with Michael."
Know Thine Enemy Page 21