He let out a heavier gasp when I pulled on him again.
“I’ll return the favor. For hours if you want...” He let out another gasp when I didn’t answer, but his voice remained deep, almost guttural. “Miri... gaos di’lanlente... I’m going to be a demanding asshole for a while. Do what I fucking ask. Please...”
I found myself kissing the bite marks left on his skin, as well as the bruises and cuts they’d left on the rest of him. He really hadn’t told me very much about what happened to him there, after the vampires took him from me, but his body told me some of it.
I didn’t realize I was crying until I wiped my face on his skin.
I didn’t look up to see if he noticed. I tried to push it from my mind, focusing on his light and skin as I worked my way down his body.
Even so, my mind never shut off entirely. In the not-so-distant background, some part of me was definitely nervous about Black’s plan to get revenge. Along with my fears for his life, the more clinically-trained, rational side of my brain knew his sudden desire to turn his security company into a vampire-killing army was driven by trauma as much as by anger.
That said, another part of me––a bigger, maybe more seer part of me––was all in favor of his plan.
That part of me wanted to kill those damned things as much as he did.
2
I’ll Replace It
HE WALKED THROUGH my office door sometime after two-thirty in the afternoon, when I had only two appointments left for the day.
We’d been back in San Francisco for almost two weeks, but I still felt completely alien trying to fit back into some semblance of my previous life. I’d mostly buried myself in work, and in Black himself. I’d barely seen my friends, and I missed them.
Truthfully, though, I was still worried about him.
The dreams hadn’t stopped. In fact, they seemed to be getting worse.
He’d also gotten more and more quiet about how he spent his days.
When he came by the office that afternoon, he was wearing a suit, which was always distracting. I’d only seen him in a handful of suits, and this one was new to me. It consisted of a black jacket and a white shirt, open at the neck. Both looked tailored, in part because they fit him perfectly, despite his height. He didn’t wear a tie. Something about the ensemble managed to make him look even taller and more broad-shouldered than usual.
He was also packing a gun.
He was moving fast, preoccupied. I definitely got the sense he was multi-tasking in his mind, and not only because he barely took a breath before he launched into speaking to me.
“We’re leaving tonight. I have Kiko packing for you.”
I looked up from my desk, startled.
He’d entered the room so damned quietly, I hadn’t even heard him come in.
Which told me Gomey, as in Gomez Ramirez, my so-called administrative assistant, must have wandered out of the building again without telling me. If he’d seen Black, the fawning definitely would have been audible, even with my door closed.
“...Hope that’s all right,” Black added, making one of those vague, graceful gestures of his with one hand, inexplicably motioning towards the window. “A few things came together today.”
I blinked, looked down at my laptop, then up at his face again.
“And sorry about having Kiko go through your stuff,” he said, more gruffly. “She claims she knows your side of the closet pretty well now. Oh, and she’s not coming with us to New York. Dex is, though. And Javier... along with a bunch of others. I think your uncle wants a few of his people on us as well. Security, I mean. Seers. I’ll add to the group, depending on how long we stay, but I might be recruiting people while we’re over there, too. There are a few names in D.C. I’d like to check out. I want to look into getting a few people out of that prison, too... Cowboy. A few others.”
I’d heard him mention Cowboy before, so I only nodded.
I continued to stare at him, fighting to catch up with everything he was saying. He hadn’t so much as mentioned New York since that night, and it had been two weeks. Truthfully, I’d wondered if he’d changed his mind. Or if maybe he’d found some other way to get the money he wanted.
It had been an odd day, even before now.
I’d seen four clients already––three that morning and one right after lunch. Most were people I’d been treating for awhile, but I was still playing catch-up from when I’d been out looking for Black. I’d arranged to have all of them covered by other counselors, but some were still hurt and upset I’d been gone so long. I think it bothered them more that I wouldn’t say much about where I’d been.
Only one gave me serious grief about it––and I knew her issues well enough to know why––but I still felt guilty.
Apart from individual clients, though, I still felt completely off-center in this part of my life. It felt like I’d been out of the counseling game for so long that walking into my private practice office was like walking into a different world.
Everything looked the same. My calendar still hung on the wall, opened to two months ago. Dusty books on various disorders and treatment plans still stood on wooden shelves next to stress toys and psychological questionnaires and checklists.
My squeaky desk chair was as uncomfortable as it had ever been.
It all seemed to belong to a life I no longer lived in, though. I felt like a tourist here, like some part of me was waiting for something else.
It didn’t help that Gomey hadn’t watered any of my plants while I’d been gone, so my last two ficus plants and even the relatively indestructible ivy plant I used to have sitting on my highest window shelf were all dead. I’d spent a chunk of my first morning back tossing plant carcasses in the garbage and placing the earth-filled pots in the small garden downstairs to maybe reuse later.
Slowly, my regular job as a psychologist had been eaten away by the work I did for the police and now for Black himself.
When I pulled myself from my thoughts, Black was still standing across from me, his mouth pursed in a frown.
“Do you care?” he said.
I blinked. “Do I care about what?”
“About this.” He gestured around the office. “About this side of your job?”
I smiled in spite of myself, fingering my long hair out of my face. I sat back from my laptop monitor, making my chair squeak. “Are you asking me if I care about my job?”
“No,” he growled. “I’m asking you if you care about this part of your job. I thought you weren’t so much into this side of things. The weekly therapy crap.”
My mouth pursed in a frown.
“I’ve always been somewhat ill-suited for it, if that’s what you mean,” I said stiffly. “I was trained more for research... and now Nick has me doing mostly forensics.” My voice came out a touch sharper, maybe even defensive. “That doesn’t mean I feel okay about abandoning people I have a professional responsibility to, Black. And I don’t think I could handle working for the cops full time either, frankly, not with––”
“What about me?” he cut in. “Could you handle working for me full time?”
When I only looked at him, unsure where this was coming from, he frowned, averting his gaze as he clicked softly under his breath, another seer mannerism I was now used to. Usually it conveyed frustration or irritation, but it could be more nuanced too.
I got the sense I was seeing more of that nuance now.
“I’m not irritated with you,” he clarified, his voice subdued. “But I don’t think you’re hearing me, either... about me wanting you with me. I don’t usually stay in San Francisco full time. I’ve been here more or less full time lately because of you, but it’s not going to work with my plans now. Not anymore.”
He met my gaze, his gold eyes glowing faintly in the sunlight from the windows.
“I want you with me,” he repeated, his voice even less compromising. “That’s going to make it hard for you to see clients like this. Unless you’re willing to
do more of it remotely. And assuming your clients are okay with that.”
But I’d more or less heard enough.
“Can we not talk about this now?” I said, frowning a little. “I can’t deal with this right now, Black. I know where it’s coming from, why you’re saying it the way you are, but it’s still coming across as pretty heavy-handed. I told you I’d go to New York with you. Can we just start there, and then see how things develop with––”
He held up a hand, his expression losing some of its tension.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice firm, but carefully calm. “You’re right. I’m not doing this right. I just want you to think about it. It’s not only my ‘issues,’ or whatever.” His jaw hardened as he met my gaze. “I could really use you. All the time, I mean, not just a few hours a day.”
He paused, shrugging as he adjusted the suit jacket he wore. “And I want to teach you the business,” he added, gruffer.
I found myself studying his face from where I sat. He was in lock-down military mode right now. I couldn’t help wondering what was behind it, and I suspected several things. Without thinking, I stood up, and walked around the desk towards him.
He backed off slightly.
Feeling a plume of heat off him, I hesitated, looking up at his face again.
When I did, I caught him looking me over in the short skirt and heels.
“Miri,” he said. “When’s your next appointment?”
His voice already sounded deeper.
“Jesus, Black.” I snorted a half-laugh in spite of myself. “I thought you were in a big hurry to get us out the door. Are you serious right now?”
“Dead fucking serious.”
He took a step towards me, moving fast enough that I backed up instinctively, running the back of my thighs into the desk. His eyes followed my legs to the desk and darkened more. When I looked up, his pupils had dilated, swallowing most of the flecked gold of his irises.
“Sit down,” he said, his voice gruff. “On the desk.” He made another of those graceful motions with a hand, his jaw tightening. “Spread your legs.”
A flush bloomed in the middle of my chest. “Is now really the time for––”
“Yes,” he said. “It really is.”
I hesitated for the barest breath, staring up at him, and again he took a step towards me, his light coiling around me like a flicking tail. I felt a predatory thread in that and my skin grew hotter. I found myself sitting on the edge of the desk and looking up at him, feeling my breath catch when I saw his eyes.
Realizing he was waiting, I spread my legs, hiking up the skirt as I did.
“Wider,” he said.
“Black...” I said, almost a whisper.
“Do as I say, Miri.” His voice was calm, reasoned, but utterly without compromise. He went on without missing a beat. “You never told me when your next appointment was.”
My breath caught in my throat when he didn’t lift his stare. “Twenty minutes. But, Black... Gomey. He could walk right in here. He never knocks, and––”
“You still haven’t done what I said.”
He stepped up against me, using his hands to ease my thighs further apart. Then he pressed one of those hands up between my legs. He slid his palm over me at first, massaging there slowly with his fingers over the thin, silky lace I wore. Then, watching my face, he moved the fabric aside. His eyes grew more heated... right before he slid his fingers into me deliberately, all the way in, tugging on me with a slow, sensual pull of his light.
I let out a gasp, watching his eyes close as he wrapped his other hand around my rear, yanking me hard up against him.
He’d been a different person since he got back.
With sex, I mean.
Something was different there. He was different.
I was having a hard time wrapping my mind around what those differences were exactly, what they meant. My body had zero problem understanding him in that area though, or understanding the feelings coming off him in increasingly violent waves.
I was still watching his face when he bent down, kissing my throat, his tongue hot on my skin. I caught hold of his arms when he didn’t stop, and his light got even more invasive, pulling on me inexorably, with a directed intent that got more focused as he worked his way up to my jaw. His hand clenched on my ass right before he brought me tighter up against him. Then he was kissing my mouth... still fucking me slowly and deliberately with his fingers, his body melting into mine.
I let out another groan against his mouth, unable to help it.
Somewhere in that, my mind pretty much... stopped working.
That, or maybe his mind and light were just so far inside of mine, they eclipsed everything else. I felt him pulling on me, trying to get me to surrender to him, to give him whatever he wanted. A harder flush of desire came off him when my light started to open... then he wanted to fuck for real, to force me down on the desk and enter me, with me still fully clothed.
The sheer intensity of the aggression behind both things––the images he sent and what was coming off his light––forced another startled moan from my lips.
He’d just finished unbuckling his belt when someone coughed delicately from the direction of the door. I looked over, still lost in that haze of Black’s fingers and mouth and light...
When my eyes found an obviously delighted Gomez staring at the two of us.
He leaned against the door jamb like he’d stood there for awhile, arms folded across his chest in the checkered hipster shirt he wore under a pumpkin-orange tie.
He grinned when he saw me looking at him. It changed the shape of his long sideburns.
“Naughty, naughty, Dr. Fox...” he said, waggling a finger at me. “You know you’re not supposed to do that with patients, don’t you?”
A hard pulse of fury left Black’s light, even as he angled his body to shield mine.
He took his fingers out of me too, tugging my skirt down to cover my legs as he backed away from me somewhat, still placing himself firmly between me and the door. Feeling his aggression worsen... then turn outwards, towards Gomez... I caught hold of Black’s arms, alarmed in spite of myself.
“Gomey,” I said, still gripping onto Black. “Get out of my office. Now. Shut the door behind you.”
Gomez grinned, raising his eyebrows. “Sure thing, Dr. Fox. Sooo sorry to interrupt...” Despite his words, he didn’t move, but glanced down pointedly at Black’s unhooked belt. “Looks like Mr. Black came by for a little walk-in session. Or would that be a drive-in? Either way, he wasn’t in the book... so how was I supposed to know?”
Again I felt that fury emanate off Black.
The sheer intensity of it alarmed me again.
“Get the fuck out of here, Gomey,” I snapped that time. “Right now. Or you’re fired.”
He jumped, maybe from my tone or maybe from my words, but that smirk never left his face. Still looking at Black, he pulled his shoulder off the door frame, backing out through the opening into the hall. I started to wonder if maybe Gomez was suicidal.
“Fine. Be that way.” He smirked down at Black’s ass again. “No need to get all... hot and bothered about it. After all, I work here, too. And it’s a little late for a nooner.”
My jaw clenched. “Gomey.”
The door finally closed behind him, and I grimaced.
When I looked up at Black, his jaw was hard.
“I’m going to kill that little shit,” he muttered.
“No, you’re not. But I do seriously need to fire him.”
Exhaling, he looked down at me, then at his watch. He scowled. “All right. I have a few more things I need to do in town before we leave. I want us in the air by eight o’clock, so I’ll pick you up here at six-thirty. Will you be done by then?” When I nodded, he exhaled again, nodding back. “Good. We’ll eat onboard.”
He met my gaze finally, his gold eyes sharp, but still holding flickers of that heat. “We’re taking my plane. You haven’t been on it
yet, have you?”
I shook my head, still fighting to pull myself back from whatever the hell just happened between us. I couldn’t quite match his business-like tone, but I tried.
“Nope,” I said, shaking my head again as I slid off the edge of the desk. “Not yet.”
He nodded, still looking at me. “It has a bed,” he said.
I grimaced. I couldn’t help it.
“Do I even want to know why it has a bed, Black?” I said, aiming my scowl up at him. “Since I’ve never been on it?”
When I glanced up after a second of silence on him, he frowned.
“I’ll get a new mattress,” he said. “Before we leave.”
“Really not helping, Black.”
Still thinking, he frowned. “New sheets, too. Maybe change out the covers on some of the sofas...”
“Really, really not helping, Black.”
He was already pulling away from me though, straightening his shirt. He grimaced as he finished buckling his belt.
“I’ll replace it,” is all he said.
Then he walked out of the room, not looking back.
3
Chocolate
MY LAST APPOINTMENT of the day was already fifteen minutes late. I found myself checking the clock on my computer every few seconds as I caught up on paperwork, then, when I’d done as much of that as I could stomach, I debated leaving to grab something to eat or another cup of coffee before Black showed up.
More than anything, I was tempted to call my two best friends, Angel and Nick. I really wanted to see them before I took off for New York.
Somewhere in the midst of that indecision, Gomey walked back into my office.
He knocked, that time.
He must have been really worried when I’d threatened to fire him... that, or he overheard me saying the same to Black after he left the room. Either way, he came in with one of the large-sized cups from the Royale Blend coffee shop downstairs, holding it out in both hands, like an offering, a contrite expression on his face.
Black Blood: A Quentin Black Mystery Story: Quentin Black Mystery #5.5 Page 2