by J. R. Ward
“I’m going to hold you to two days, then.”
“I’ll start getting what we need from Home Depot and Lowe’s this morning. I’ll split the supply orders between the two. And we’re going to need a small bulldozer, one of those Toro Dingos with the interchangeable bucket and hoe setup. I know where we can rent one.”
“Good. This is all good.”
O leaned back to stretch his arms and idly parted the drapes. U’s house was an anonymous split-level deep in soccer-mom territory. This was the part of Caldwell with streets named Elmwood and Spruce Knoll and Pine Notch, where kids rode their bikes on the sidewalks and dinner was on the table at six every night.
All the happy-happy, joy-joy made O’s skin crawl. He wanted to torch the houses. Put salt on the lawns. Chop the trees down. Level the place until it couldn’t resurface. The impulse went so deep it surprised him. He had no problem with destruction of property, but he was a killer, not a vandal. He couldn’t figure out why he gave a shit.
“I want to use your truck,” U was saying. “I’m going to rent a trailer to hitch on. Between the two, I’ll be able to take delivery on the boards and roofing supplies in batches. No reason for the Home Depot folks to know where we are.”
“And the stuff for the storage units?”
“I know exactly what you’re looking for and where to find it.”
An electronic beeping sounded.
“What the hell’s that?” O asked.
“Reminder for the nine-A.M. check-in.” U took out a BlackBerry, his blunt fingers flying over the little keyboard. “You want me to e-mail your status for you?”
“Yeah.” O focused on U. The lesser had been in the society for 175 years. He was pale as paper. Calm and sharp as a tack. Not as aggressive as some, but steady.
“You’re an asset, U.”
U cocked a smile and looked up from the BlackBerry. “I know. And I like to be used. Speaking of which, who are you going to give me for a crew?”
“We’re going to use both prime squadrons.”
“You’re taking all of us off-line for two nights?”
“And days. We’ll sleep in shifts at the site.”
“Fine.” U looked back down at the thing in his hand, fingering a little wheel on the right side of it. “Oh…shit. Mr. X is not going to like this.”
O narrowed his eyes. “Oh, yeah?”
“It’s a blast e-mail to the Beta squadrons. I’m still on the list, I guess.”
“And?”
“A bunch of Betas were hunting last night and ran into one of the Brotherhood in the park. Of the five of them, three are unaccounted for. Get this, the warrior was with a human female.”
“Sometimes they have sex with them.”
“Yeah. Lucky bastards.”
Mary stood over the stove thinking of the way Rhage had just looked at her. She couldn’t figure out why offering to cook him breakfast was such a big deal, but he’d acted as if she’d given him a tremendous gift.
She flipped the omelet over and headed for the refrigerator. Taking out a plastic container of cut fruit, she spooned all there was into a bowl. It didn’t look like enough, so she grabbed a banana and sliced it on top.
As she put the knife down, she touched her lips. There had been nothing sexual about the kiss he’d given her behind the couch; it had been all about gratitude. And the mouth-on-mouth action in the park had been deeper, but the distance on his side was the same. The passion had been one-sided. Hers.
Did vampires even sleep with humans? Maybe that was why he held back, instead of it being some kind of power play.
Except what about the hostess at TGI Friday’s? He’d definitely sized that woman up, and not because he’d wanted to buy her a dress. So clearly his kind had no problem being with another species. What he had no interest in was being with her.
Friends. Just friends.
When the omelet was finished and the toast buttered, she rolled a fork up in a napkin, tucked the twist under her elbow, and took the plate and the bowl into the living room. She quickly shut the door behind her and turned to the couch.
Whoa.
Rhage had taken his shirt off and was leaning back against the wall, inspecting his burns. In the glow of candlelight, she got a serious look at his heavy shoulders, his powerful arms, his chest. His stomach. The skin over all that muscle he was carrying was golden, hairless.
Trying to keep it together, she put what she was carrying on the floor next to him and sat down a few feet over. To stop herself from staring at his body, she glanced at his face. He was looking down at the food, not moving, not speaking.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” she said.
His eyes flipped up to hers and he shifted so he was facing her. The frontal view was even more spectacular than the profile. His shoulders were broad enough to fill the space between the couch and the wall. And the star-shaped scar over his left pectoral was sexy as hell, like some kind of brand on his skin.
After a good beat or two of him just staring at her, she reached for the plate. “I’ll get you something else—”
His hand shot out and gripped her wrist. He stroked her skin with his thumb. “I love it.”
“You haven’t tasted the—”
“You made it. That’s enough.” He picked the fork out of the napkin, the muscles and tendons in his forearm working. “Mary?”
“Hm?”
“I would feed you now.” As he spoke, his stomach let out a howl.
“That’s okay. I’ll get something for myself…Ah, why are you frowning like that?”
He rubbed his eyebrows, as if ironing out his expression. “Sorry. You couldn’t know.”
“Know what?”
“Where I come from, when a male offers to feed a female from his hand, it is a way of showing respect. Respect and…affection.”
“But you’re hungry.”
He brought the plate a little closer and tore off a corner of the toast. Then he cut a perfect square out of the omelet and placed it on top.
“Mary, eat from my hand. Take from me.”
He leaned forward, extending his long arm. His teal eyes were hypnotic, calling her, pulling her forward, opening her mouth. As she put her lips around the food she had cooked for him, he growled in approval. And after she swallowed, he came toward her again, another piece of toast suspended between his fingertips.
“Shouldn’t you have something?” she said.
“Not until you are full.”
“What if I eat it all?”
“Nothing would please me more than to know you are well fed.”
Friends, she told herself. Just friends.
“Mary, eat for me.” His insistence had her opening her mouth again. His eyes stayed on her lips after she’d closed them.
Jesus. This didn’t feel like friends.
As she chewed, Rhage picked through the bowl of fruit with his fingertip. He finally chose a slice of cantaloupe and held it out to her. She took the piece whole, a little juice escaping down the side of her mouth. She reached up with the back of her hand, but he stopped her, lifting the napkin, brushing it over her skin.
“I’m finished.”
“No, you’re not. I can feel your hunger.” This time half a strawberry came toward her. “Open for me, Mary.”
He fed her choice morsels, watching her with a primordial satisfaction that was unlike anything she’d seen before.
When she couldn’t take another bite, he made quick work of what was left, and the moment he was done she picked up the plate and headed to the kitchen. She made him another omelet, filled a bowl full of cereal, and gave him the last of her bananas.
His smile was radiant as she laid it all out in front of him. “How you honor me with this.”
As he ate in that methodical, tidy way of his, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the wall. She was getting tired more and more easily and felt a stab of cold terror because now she knew why. God, she dreaded finding out
what the doctors were going to do to her after all the tests were in.
When she opened her eyes, Rhage’s face was right in front of hers.
She jerked back, banging against the wall. “I, ah, I didn’t even hear you move.”
Crouched on all fours like an animal about to spring, he had one arm on either side of her legs, his massive shoulders bunched up from bearing the weight of his torso. This close, he was huge. And showing a lot of skin. And smelling really good, like dark spices.
“Mary, I would thank you, if you would let me.”
“How?” she croaked.
He tilted his head to the side and put his lips on hers. As she gasped, his tongue penetrated her mouth and stroked her own. When he shifted back to assess her reaction, his eyes glowed with the promise of ecstasy, the kind that would boil her bone marrow.
She cleared her throat. “You’re…welcome.”
“I would do that again, Mary. Will you let me?”
“A simple thank-you is fine. Really, I—”
His lips cut her off and then his tongue took over again, invading, taking, caressing. As heat roared in her body, Mary gave up the fight and savored the mad lust, the pounding in her chest, the aching at her breasts and between her legs.
Oh, God. It had been so long. And it had never been like this.
Rhage let out a low purr, as if he’d sensed her arousal. She felt his tongue retract, and then he took her lower lip between his—
Fangs. Those were fangs nipping at her flesh.
Fear threaded through her passion and thickened it, adding a dangerous edge that opened her even further. She put her hands on his arms. God, he was so hard, so strong. He’d be so heavy on top of her.
“Will you let me lay with you?” he asked.
Mary closed her eyes, imagining them going beyond the kissing to a place where they’d be naked together. She hadn’t been with a man since well before her illness. And a lot about her body had changed since then.
She also didn’t know where his desire to be with her was coming from. Friends didn’t have sex. Not in her book, anyway.
She shook her head. “I’m not sure—”
Rhage’s mouth fit over hers again briefly. “I just want to lie down next to you. Okay?”
Literal translation…right. Except as she stared at him, she couldn’t ignore the differences between them. She was breathless. He was calm. She was dizzy. He was clear-sighted.
She was hot. He was…not.
Abruptly Rhage sat back against the wall and pulled the blanket that hung off the couch into his lap. She wondered for a split second if he was hiding an erection.
Yeah, right. More likely he was cold because he was half-naked.
“Did you suddenly remember what I am?” he asked.
“Excuse me?”
“Is that what turned you off?”
She remembered those fangs of his on her lip. The idea that he was a vampire turned her on. “No.”
“Then why did you shut down? Mary?” His eyes bored into hers. “Mary, will you tell me what’s going on?”
His confusion as he stared at her was appalling. Did he think she wouldn’t mind being a pity fuck?
“Rhage, I appreciate the lengths you’re willing to go to in the name of friendship, but don’t do me any favors, okay?”
“You like what I do to you. I can feel it. I can smell it.”
“For chrissakes, do you get off on making me feel ashamed of myself? Because I’ll tell you, having a man get me all hot and bothered while he might as well be reading a newspaper doesn’t feel good on my end. God…you’re really sick, you know that?”
That neon gaze narrowed in offense. “You think I don’t want you.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I’ve missed all that lust on your side. Yeah, you’re really hot for me.”
She couldn’t believe how fast he moved. One minute he was sitting back against the wall, looking at her. The next he had her down on the floor, underneath him. His thigh shoved her legs apart and then his hips drove into her core. What came against her was a thick, hard length.
His hand tangled in her hair and pulled, arching her up against him. He dropped his mouth to her ear.
“You feel that, Mary?” He rubbed his arousal in tight circles, stroking her, making her bloom for him. “You feel me? What does this mean?”
She gasped for air. She was so wet now, her body ready for him to drive deep into her.
“Tell me what it means, Mary.” When she didn’t answer, he sucked her neck until it stung and then took her earlobe between his teeth. Little punishments. “I want you to say it. So I know you’re clear on how I feel.”
His free hand dipped under her butt, tucked her closer, and then his erection pushed into her, hitting the right place. She could feel the head of him probing through his pants and her pajama bottoms.
“Say it, Mary.”
He surged forward again and she groaned. “You want me.”
“And let’s just make sure you remember that, shall we?”
He released her hair and took her lips with a raw edge. He was all over her, inside her mouth, on top of her body, his heat and his male smell and his tremendous erection promising her one hell of a wild, erotic ride.
But then he rolled off of her and went back to where he’d been against the wall. Just like that, he was under control again. His breathing even. His body still.
She struggled to sit up, trying to remember how to use her arms and legs.
“I’m not a man, Mary, even though parts of me look like one. What you just had is nothing compared to what I want to do to you. I want my head between your legs so I can lick you until you scream my name. Then I want to mount you like an animal and look into your eyes as I come inside of you. And after that? I want to take you every way there is. I want to do you from behind. I want to screw you standing up, against the wall. I want you to sit on my hips and ride me until I can’t breathe.” His stare was level, brutal in its honesty. “Except none of that’s going to happen. If I felt you less, it would be different, easier. But you do something weird to my body, so totally controlled is the only way I can be with you. Otherwise I’m liable to lose it, and the last thing I want to do is scare the hell out of you. Or worse, hurt you.”
Visions swam in her head, visions of everything he had described, and her body wept anew for him. He took a deep breath and growled softly, like he’d caught the scent of her sex and relished it.
“Oh, Mary. Will you let me pleasure you? Will you let me take that sweet arousal of yours where it wants to go?”
She wanted to say yes, but the logistics of what he was suggesting hit her hard: getting naked, in front of him, in the candlelight. No one but doctors and nurses knew what had been left behind on her body after the disease had retreated. And she couldn’t help thinking of those sexy women she’d seen come on to him.
“I’m not what you’re used to,” she said softly. “I’m not…beautiful.” He frowned, but she shook her head. “Trust me on this one.”
Rhage prowled over to her, those shoulders rolling like a lion’s. “Let me show you how beautiful you are. Nicely. Slowly. Nothing rough. I’ll be a perfect gentleman, I promise.”
His lips parted and she caught a glance of the tips of his fangs. Then his mouth was on hers and, God, he was fantastic, all drugging sweeps of lips and tongue. With a moan, she wound her arms around his neck, digging her fingers into his scalp.
As he laid her down on the floor, she braced herself for his weight. Instead he stretched out next to her and smoothed her hair back.
“Slowly,” he murmured. “Gently.”
He kissed her again, and it was a while before his long fingers went to the bottom of her T-shirt. As he pushed the thing up, she tried to concentrate on what he was doing to her mouth, forcing herself not to think about what he was revealing. But when he tugged the fabric over her head, cool air hit her breasts. She brought her hands up to cover them and closed her eyes,
praying it was dark enough so he couldn’t see much of her.
A fingertip brushed the base of her neck, where her tracheotomy scar was. Then it lingered on the puckered spots on her chest where catheters had been plugged in. He pulled down the waistband of her pajama bottoms until all the punch holes in her stomach from the feeding tubes were revealed. Then he found the insertion site for her bone-marrow transplant on her hip.
She couldn’t stand it any longer. She sat up and grabbed for the shirt to shield herself.
“Oh, no, Mary. Don’t stop this.” He captured her hands and kissed them. Then he tugged at the shirt. “Won’t you let me look at you?”
She turned her head away as he took her cover from her. Her bare breasts rose and fell as his eyes took her in.
Then Rhage kissed each and every scar.
She trembled no matter how much she tried to hold still. Her body had been pumped full of poison. Left with holes and scars and rough spots. Rendered infertile. And here was this beautiful man worshiping it as if everything she had borne was worthy of reverence.
When he looked up and smiled at her, she burst into tears. The sobs came out hard as punches, tearing at her chest and throat, squeezing her ribs. She covered her face with her hands, wishing she had the strength to go into another room.
While she cried, Rhage held her against his chest, cradling her, rocking her back and forth. She had no idea how long it took before she wore herself out, but eventually the weeping slowed and she became aware that he was talking to her. The syllables and cadence were completely unfamiliar and the words indecipherable. But the tone…the tone was lovely.
And his kindness was a temptation she shrank from.
She could not rely on him for comfort, not even in this moment. Her life depended on her keeping it together, and there was a slippery slope to tears. If she started crying now, she wasn’t going to stop in the days and weeks ahead. God knew, the hard inner core of her had been the only thing that had gotten her through the last time she’d been sick. If she lost that resolve, she had no power whatsoever against the disease.
Mary wiped her eyes.
Not again, she thought. She would not lose it in front of him again.