by Ashlyn Chase
Sly raised his eyebrows. “What’s wrong with my place? I have what I need. Maybe you’d enjoy more decadent surroundings when you come to see me?”
Her jaw dropped. “Of course not! How can you think that?” She swiveled away from him and crossed her arms.
Shit. She didn’t deserve that. Was he picking a fight with her to establish some distance?
“I’m sorry, Morgaine. I really am. You’ve been nothing but thoughtful and kind. I didn’t mean that.”
She twisted back to face him and sighed. “You’re an idiot if you think I need that stuff.”
He smiled. Then he reached out and stroked her cheek. “Yeah, I know. I might be an idiot once in a while, like it or not. But let me ask you this, what do you need?”
She turned into his hand and closed her eyes. Uh-oh. That soft smile indicated she was already having feelings for him.
“This,” she said.
“What do you mean?” Sly thought he knew what she meant, but he didn’t want to assume. If she asked for more than he could give, he’d have to tell her to slow down. But if he’d learned anything about women in his fifty-six years on earth, it was not to try to guess what they were feeling or thinking. Few men, if any, had them all figured out.
“Trust.”
Trust? Her answer puzzled him, but he wasn’t about to start an in-depth discussion about their relationship. He didn’t think they were “there” yet.
“I need to trust a person in order to venture out of the building with them. And I trust you. That’s why I’m going with you to New York.”
“So, you’ve decided? You’re sure?”
“I think the sooner we go, the better. Gwyneth will keep an eye on the still and answer the business calls while we’re gone.”
“Is that what you call phone sex? Business calls?”
“Well, yeah. That’s what they are.”
He relaxed slightly. “Morgaine, I’ve been hesitating to confess what I think of that for a little while, but I should probably get this off my chest.”
She arched her eyebrows and leaned back as if to get a better look at his facial expression. “Okay. Share.”
He smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. “I know it’s none of my business, and we’ve only been sleeping together for a short time…” He paused. How should he say this?
“But?”
“But, I’m not sure I want other guys talking to you like that.”
She waited, but he had no follow-up.
At last, she looked puzzled and asked, “Why? Or maybe I should say, ‘Why not?’”
Shit. He shouldn’t have begun this conversation until he understood it himself. Maybe he should change the subject? He chewed his lower lip until he noticed his fangs starting to protrude and tasted blood. “Ouch.” Fuck, it bothers me just to think about it.
“What’s the matter?”
“Oh, nothing. I just fanged myself.” He swiped his tongue over the spot that was beginning to bleed and it stopped. “I’ll live. Pardon the irony.”
She chuckled. “Okay, so let’s get back to the other thing. Why do you have a problem with my business?”
Damn. Not enough of a distraction. Maybe I should have set myself on fire? “Can we forget I said anything?”
“No. At least I can’t. Look, whatever you want to say, it’s okay to say it. It might not change anything, but you can tell me what’s on your mind.”
Suddenly he had a crick in his neck. He rubbed the spot until it eased. “Fine. What if someone finds out where you live? You could be putting yourself in danger.”
“We’ve got that covered. That’s not what’s really bothering you, is it?”
He gazed at the ceiling. “Oh, the joys of dating a psychic…”
She laughed, then crossed her arms and pretended to get tough. “Okay, you. Even psychics can’t read minds. Spit it out.”
“Thank God.” He sighed. “I’m not exactly sure what it is that bothers me about it. It’s not exactly jealousy. I just don’t want you treated that way.”
“Oh.” She appeared to ponder that for a few moments. “Thanks, I think.”
“Don’t your skills as a medium and psychic pay well enough?”
“Not by themselves. We really need to supplement our income with something, and as they say, ‘Sex sells.’”
“Is that why Gwyneth was writing erotica?”
“Yes, but she’s lost her enthusiasm for it. She claims she needs a new research partner, but I think she’s uncomfortable with her grammar. Joe used to take care of both for her.”
“I can imagine.”
“Look, don’t tell her I said that. Her ego has taken enough of a beating. To be honest, the still is the only thing she’s been excited about for quite a while. That’s why I’m not asking her to dismantle it and why I didn’t say much to discourage her cockamamie idea in the first place.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“No, of course not. I had hoped we’d be able to bottle a vampirism cure for you.”
“Why do you think it didn’t work?”
“Mikhail said there was some kind of secret ingredient. Even though he refused to tell me what it was, I’m hoping if we spend some time with him and I help with his magickal needs, maybe he’ll decide he can trust us with it.”
“That’s a big ‘if.’ At least he’s willing to give us a case of the stuff. Maybe we can reverse engineer it.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“Great minds…”
“Yeah.” She smiled and looked down at her lap.
Damn. He wanted her every time she gave him that shy smile. Reaching out to cup her cheek, he drew her closer. “I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to help me. I know traveling to New York might be hard for you.”
“It might also be good for me.”
He kissed her straight nose. “That’s the brave woman I’m proud of.”
* * * *
Morgaine hadn’t expected to end up in the bedroom that evening, but she was glad they did. Sly was an incredible lover—surprisingly gentle, considering his vampiric strength. He also had great—ahem—endurance. He made sure she was completely satisfied before reaching his own destination. And his recovery time might as well be measured with an egg timer.
She was still huffing and puffing from her second climax when he rolled up onto his elbow and gazed down at her.
“Want to go again?”
She laughed between deep breaths. “You’ve got to be kidding. Don’t you ever get tired?”
“Sex exhausts me about as much as a Sunday stroll.” He bent over her and kissed her forehead, nipped her nose, and then claimed her mouth with a fierce possession she hadn’t experienced before—ever.
She held onto his shoulders and returned his kiss with the same fervor. Their tongues met and swirled. He tasted slightly like the Vampire Vodka she’d given him, but another flavor mingled with it that she’d come to know as Sly’s very own.
Without realizing it, her hands began to wander. When her nails raked down his back, it only inflamed his passion more. He climbed on top of her, and she felt the unmistakable hardness of his staff nudging her entrance.
She parted her legs and allowed him access. Without breaking the kiss or waiting for permission, he rammed himself home. She gasped and he wrenched his lips away.
“Fuck! Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”
He began to pull out until she grabbed his ass. “No, I’m fine.” She hauled him toward her until he was fully seated again. “Now let’s do that first thing you mentioned.”
They both grinned.
He began his rhythm while they stared at each other. She moaned with wonderful sensations as he filled her. Her eyes closed on their own. “Goddess, that feels good,” she said, breathily.
“Yes, it does.” His voice lowered and he leaned closer, kissing her temple. “You know what else feels good?”
She paused. “What could feel better than this?”
He raised himself up on one hand and locked his elbow. Balancing like that, he used the other hand to locate her clit. The moment he touched her pearl, she arched and let out a loud moan.
Heightened sensations zinged through her, rippling outward. “Oh, my Goddess!”
His strength was definitely an asset in the bedroom. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat. He continued to pump in and out of her as he rubbed her supersensitive button. She writhed with the powerful pleasure of it. Barely conscious of making odd sounds, something primal emanated from deep inside her.
She was skyrocketing toward a higher climax than ever before. Even with all her squirming, Sly stayed right on her clit. He stroked it quickly, and the glorious vibrations led to a shattering orgasm.
Morgaine bucked and screamed. He didn’t let up and she kept coming. Electric jolts shot through every cell and nerve ending. Her thighs shook uncontrollably.
At last, he let go and landed on his elbows over her. He jerked and spasmed with his own release and blew out a deep breath.
“You’re amazing,” she whispered hoarsely.
He pushed back the hair from her face. “You too.”
“How? All I do is let you play me like a piano.”
He chuckled. “You’ve got a great keyboard.”
She would have laughed, but she didn’t have enough breath.
He withdrew slowly and flopped onto his back. After a few moments, he asked, “Do you want to stay the night?”
Morgaine was barely aware of his question or her obvious nonverbal answer as her consciousness slipped away.
Chapter 11
Morgaine awoke the next morning feeling well rested, refreshed, and… blind! Oh, my Goddess! She felt her eyes with her fingers. Yes, they were open. But no matter which direction she faced, she remained in total blackness. Could the myths possibly be true? Could sex make you go blind?
“Where the Hell am I?” Her heart squeezed.
“Relax, pumpkin. You’re okay.”
“Chad? Is that you?”
“I’d say, ‘In the flesh,’ but… well, you understand.”
“Oh, thank Goddess, I’m not alone!”
“Really? Wow, I think this is the first time you’ve ever been happy to see me. Usually you tell me to get lost.”
“I-I’m really sorry about that. I don’t mean to sound—”
“Forget it. Listen, you’re not alone anyway. Sly’s right next to you.”
She patted around the mattress until she hit an arm. “Oh!” She tried to shake him awake, but he didn’t move or make a sound. “Sly? Are you okay?”
“Nah, he’s out cold. You won’t be able to wake him until sunset—unless you set him on fire or something.”
She was too freaked out to laugh. “Chad, can you help me? I need to find the door. I’ve got to get out of here.”
“Sure, but first you might want to slow your breathing. If you keep hyperventilating like that, you’ll pass out before you get there.”
She deliberately took some slow breaths. “Okay. I think I’ll be all right long enough to reach the door if you can help me find it.”
“Stand up and I’ll guide you.”
“Wait. I have to find the floor first.” She covered her chest with the sheet, leaned away from Sly, and felt for the edge of the bed. When she had it, she dragged her feet over and set them on the hardwood. She tugged on the sheet, but she couldn’t pull it free. “Okay. I—uh, I’m not dressed. You won’t look, will you?”
“How the hell can I guide you out of the room if I can’t look?”
Morgaine mentally rolled her eyes. “Okay, you have a point, but don’t stare.”
“Fine,” he said, sounding bored. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen a million times.”
She gasped. “You’ve seen me naked a million times?”
He laughed. “No, but I got your mind off what’s happening, didn’t I? Now stand up and I’ll put my hand under your elbow. We’ll walk around the bed to the door.”
Morgaine chewed her bottom lip, but she forced herself to stand, leaving the safety of the mattress behind. Good to his word, Chad applied gentle pressure on the underside of her arm, near her elbow. She shivered at his cold touch but was grateful for it.
“Ready, set, walk with me.”
She tentatively advanced a few baby steps at a time. “I thought you promised to stay out of our bedrooms. Does my waking up and finding you here mean you’re not doing that?”
“Not at all. I just noticed you didn’t make it back to your place last night, and knowing how freaked out you get in the dark, I figured you’d be in deep shit when you woke up.”
“Uh, yeah. I guess everyone knows my little secret now. Thanks.”
“What? That you’re afraid of the dark? Please. Any thirty-year-old who sleeps with a night light on is either afraid of the dark or thinks she’s five.”
Eventually she ran into something soft with her foot. “Oh! My dress.” She bent over and scooped it up with her free arm. “Thank the Goddess. Now I have something to wear when I get out of here.”
“Damn,” Chad said.
“Don’t tease. I’m about a hair away from losing it.”
“Okay, okay. Relax. We’re almost there.”
She walked a few more steps completely blind and stubbed her toe. “Ow!”
“Sorry, I should have warned you. You made it. That was the door.”
“Oh!” She fumbled around until she found the handle. As soon as she twisted it, relief washed over—only to be replaced by despair when she discovered that darkness lay on the other side of it too.
“Shit. The living room is blacked out too. Now what?”
“I’ve got you. I’ll just take you to the other door.”
“Wait. I need to put my dress on.”
Fortunately, it was a peasant-type dress with elastic around the neckline and bodice, so all she had to do was slip it over her head. Once she had it on, it felt funny and she tried to adjust it.
“You have it on backwards.”
“Oh, for Goddess’s sake.” She blew out a frustrated breath.
“What’s the matter?”
She heaved a deep sigh. “Screw it. Just get me to the hallway door.”
“Aren’t you even going to say, ‘Please’?”
“Sheesh! Fine. Please take me the rest of the way.”
As he took her elbow and guided her, she pondered out loud, “I wish there was something I could do to repay you.”
“I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
She clamped her lips together, realizing she should have kept her mouth shut.
* * * *
Merman Jules enjoyed splashing around for several minutes in his saltwater fish tank before he relaxed and gazed outside his front windows. What was going on? He’d seen people filing in and out of the building all day. Now several people were traipsing up the walk together. Mostly related by the looks of them. Was somebody having a family reunion?
Fortunately, the landlord and his pregnant wife were out of town, but if they had been home, all these guests would have put them at risk for discovery. Since his job included protecting the landlord’s privacy as well as his property, Jules had warned everyone to keep visitors to a minimum. So who was ignoring the rules?
Jules’s super-sonar hearing picked up the vibration of the buzzer as someone let in the whole troop. Damn.
He hopped up onto the wall of his tank and waited for the water to sluice off. When his body sensed he was no longer submerged, his tail divided and he jumped onto the hardwood floor, landing on his bare feet.
He grabbed a towel off a shelf, wrapped it around his waist, and trickled water all the way to his bedroom. When he had changed into blue jeans and a “Save the Mermaids” T-shirt, he ventured into the hallway.
To anyone else, it would have seemed quiet. He fine-tuned his sonar until he could have heard blips passing through the air instead of through water. The group had apparently wo
und up on the third floor. He jogged up the flight of stairs and listened. The sounds were coming from the right. Ah, Morgaine Marlowe’s apartment.
He stood outside with his ear to the door for a few moments. Suddenly all the chatter and movement inside stopped. He heard someone taking deep breaths and then more quiet. At last a single voice said, “He’s here.”
He? Me? Crap. He knew the girls were rumored to be psychic, so he backed away from the door. Suddenly he heard a scream across the hall.
Rushing to the opposite apartment, he tripped and fell before he reached the door. He glanced around his feet but didn’t see a thing he could have tripped over. What the hell is going on up here?
Suddenly the door he had been running toward opened. Gwyneth Wyatt, the pretty redhead who lived there, gazed down at him. She held a phone in her hand and looked like she was just finishing a call.
“All right, sugar. I’ll be here if y’all need me.” Click. Reaching down, she took his arm and helped him up. “Why, Jules! What on earth happened to y’all?”
“I—uh, heard a scream coming from your apartment. I was on my way to make sure you were all right, but I tripped.”
Gwyneth looked at the ceiling. “Hush, Chad. That wasn’t funny. Y’all could’ve killed the man.”
Jules looked up and saw nothing, even though he glanced all around. Eventually she filled him in.
“That was our ghost you tripped over. Chad thinks it’s funny to see people fall down—now that he can’t.” Then she set her hands on her hips and aimed a stern expression at the ceiling again. “But t’ain’t funny a’tall, Chad. Not cool, as y’all would say.”
Jules’s spirits plummeted. He’d thought the redhead might be relationship material or, at the very least, a good romp in the sack. Why are the prettiest ones always the total nut jobs? “So what was the scream about?”
“Y’all want to come in? I can explain everythin’.”
“Uh, no. I have a… thing… to do… downstairs…”
“Oh, that’s too bad. I was gonna tell y’all about our phone-sex business.”
He raised his eyebrows but managed to hold his reaction to no more than that. She continued on as if she’d just said she worked as an accountant.