Blood and Metal

by Nina Croft

  And she didn’t want to die.

  Where was Fergal? Had his scientist friend betrayed him? He’d been with Hatcher—he must have changed sides.

  Was Fergal somewhere in the prison? Would they make him watch as they burned her? At least there was a good chance he would still be alive when The Blood Hunter got here. They would save him. But it would be too late for her—she’d be reduced to a little pile of greasy ashes.

  A sound at the door made her jump. She raised her head and snarled, but the face in the glass was familiar, and a wave of warmth washed over her, calming her tremors.

  She blinked, and her vision cleared as Fergal pushed open the cell door. He stepped inside, and her mouth tugged up into a broad smile that she couldn’t seem to stop.

  She’d believed she would never see him again, and it was enough that he was here. She forced her gaze beyond him to where a second man loitered in the doorway. Stefan Wolfe. So was he a true friend after all, though he didn’t look happy. Unlike Fergal, who was grinning at her like an idiot. Like she was no doubt grinning at him.

  “I missed you,” he said.

  “Me too.”

  He crossed the few steps between them, took her face between his palms, and kissed her on the forehead. She closed her eyes and relaxed. This was enough. He’d come for her. Even if she died now, she would be content.

  Then she snapped back.

  No, she fucking wouldn’t.

  She wanted out of here. She wanted them both out of here. Time to discover what was really going on. Whether there was a plan, a chance. She peered past Fergal to the man who still hovered in the doorway.

  “So is he a friend after all, or did you bring me a snack?” she asked.

  The man blanched, but Fergal chuckled. “He’s a friend.” He released her and turned back to his friend. “Don’t you have something you need to do?”

  The man nodded. “I’ll go to Hatcher, see what I can arrange.”

  “We’ve less than two hours. You fail and I’m making a break for it. So be quick.”

  Daisy waited until the door closed behind him. “What’s he going to do?”

  “See if they will let him use you for research. It will give us more time.”

  “You know what they plan?”

  He nodded curtly.

  “I lost it again. I’m sorry. If I hadn’t they might not have been so sure, might have waited. But I was so angry. That man killed Janey. I hate him. Hate feeds the darkness. I’ve found out that much.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “We’ll get out of here.” He pulled a small key from the belt he wore and unlocked the shackles that held her arms above her head. She rubbed at the red marks on her wrists. Then she ripped the black robes down the front, spraying the room with tiny buttons, dragged the dress over her arms and hips, and kicked it into the corner. The release was enormous. She could breathe again. She went to the small alcove and splashed her face with cold water, washing away the dried blood. When she turned back, Fergal was at the door, peering through the window.

  “Should we make a run for it?” she asked.

  “We will if we have to, but the place is swarming with guards. We’ll wait and see if Stefan is successful first.”

  She slumped down on the cot behind her and studied him. Lines were etched between his eyes—he was worried. Obviously in no way sure of his friend.

  “Did he give you more antidote?”

  He let out a short bitter laugh. “He didn’t need to. He never really poisoned me, just told me he had as insurance so that I would come back.”

  “He didn’t trust you.”

  “Why would he? He’s known me for a long time.”

  “Why did you stay so long at Cybercom?” she asked. “I know in the end you were prisoners, but before that you must have had a chance to leave.”

  “For the first few years, I needed the antirejection drugs. After that, I waited because Stefan hadn’t completed the process. He was still working on the final phase of his little project.”

  “Immortality?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re scared of dying?”

  “Strangely, no. Though if you’d asked me that when I was growing up, I would have given you a different answer. My father was very into the whole fire-and-brimstone thing. You know—follow the Lord’s path or you’ll roast in Hell’s fires.” He rubbed at his arm as he spoke. “Well, I very rarely managed to follow the Lord’s path, so for a lot of years I fully expected to end up in Hell’s fires.”

  “You actually believe that? That’s why you don’t want to die? You’re scared you’ll go to Hell?”

  He grinned, the seriousness lifting from his expression. “Fuck, no. I gave up believing in Hell or Heaven years ago.”

  “Why don’t you want to die then?”

  “I sort of made a promise to someone—that no way was the devil going to get me.”

  “To your dad? You still see him.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Shit, I’ve never told anyone this crap before. But no, I haven’t spoken directly to my father since I was twelve years old.”

  “You still hate him? After all this time?”

  “Yeah. I guess so—some things you never get over. But it’s complicated when it’s your dad. I’ve come to see that. Otherwise I might have gone back and killed the bastard before now.”

  “Seems a little excessive.”

  He took a deep breath, and for a moment, she thought the conversation was over. And she didn’t want it to be. She knew she was getting to the heart of what made Fergal tick, what had made him into the man he was.

  “My mother killed herself when I was eight. He drove her to it.”

  “Couldn’t she have taken you away?”

  “She tried. We ran away twice, and both times, he had us brought back. She was genetically modified, though she had no outward signs and didn’t know it when she married my father. Neither did he.” He gave her a grim smile. “At the time, my father was head of the Church’s program for the abolition of abominations.”

  “How did he find out—I’m presuming he did?”

  “Yeah, he found out. I had a sister. She was born when I was five, so I remember her…just. She had webbed fingers and toes.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “She died. Smothered in her cot.”

  Her hand went to her mouth, and she stared at him. “Your father did that? Killed his own daughter?”

  “It was never spoken outright, but yes. Things weren’t the same afterward. My mother never really recovered from the death, but even before that, she was always a little unstable. And afterward he started the beatings—driving the devil out, he called it.”

  She had a flashback to the pale lines on Fergal’s back, and a wave of rage rose up inside her, making the blood pound in her veins. She quashed it down. “He beat you as well?”

  “Yeah, well, I definitely had the devil in me. Anyway, after the second time we ran, he made sure we wouldn’t try it again. He kept us separated so we’d have had to leave the other behind. She killed herself to give me a chance to be free.”

  “Oh, Fergal. I’m sorry.” She blinked back her tears for the little boy he had been and the man he had become.

  “It’s weird, but in his own twisted way, he did love her, and me as well. He was doing what he thought was right.” He shook his head. “Crazy asshole.”

  “Did you love him?”

  He looked away again. “Growing up, all I wanted was for him to say something good. The few times he did—I lived for. Yeah, I loved him and hated him. Now—enough. We have a little time. Let’s not waste it talking about history.”

  “Okay, one last question.”

  “One.”

  “Are you immortal?”

  “Let’s hope we get to find out.” He came across and sank down on the cot beside her, took her hand in his and tugged her up close. “No more questions.” He gave her a long look out of half-closed lashes, and her
breath hitched. “You know,” he murmured, “there’s something about imminent death that makes me horny as hell.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Did they have time for this?

  Daisy glanced at the door, half expecting to see a whole load of the bad guys ready to bear down on them. But the door was closed, and she could see no one through the small window.

  They weren’t going anywhere until Fergal’s friend got back. So why not?

  Maybe this wasn’t the best time to make love. They were surrounded by enemies. But it also might be their last chance. She needed him to hold her. To wipe out the fear and push back the darkness. They weren’t out of here yet, and they still might die. Couldn’t they take a little time-out, just to forget the bad things and maybe to remember that there were definitely things worth living for?

  She looked at Fergal, so close beside her. Lines of pain, or fear, etched his long, lean face, but his silver eyes were as clear as she had ever seen them, as though he had been through some sort of catharsis. And maybe he had—after all, he’d said he’d never told anyone about his father before.

  He returned her gaze with one that was hot and heavy, and her nipples tightened, heat pooling in her sex.

  Yeah, they deserved this.

  Staring into his eyes, she crossed her arms in front of her and held them out to him. “You want to tie me up?”

  He studied her for a long minute, and in the silence a slow beat started between her thighs, a fire sparking into life in her belly.

  “No.”

  “No?” He didn’t want to make love after all?

  “I’m not kidding myself that we’re definitely getting out of this, and if not, just once, I want to feel your arms around me when we make love.”

  “You do?”

  “Oh, yeah. And your legs.”

  “What about my teeth—you want to feel them?” She really didn’t want to lose it and bite him. Not now.

  “I’m willing to take the risk. Are you?”

  She peered inside herself and realized that the fear had left her for now and the darkness was once again sleeping. She wanted him so much, but she wanted to relax, and could she do that while she worried that she might rip out his throat? Hardly an image she wanted him to take to the grave.

  Though hopefully, there wasn’t going to be a grave anytime soon, if ever. In all likelihood they were both immortal now. Eternity with Fergal. What would that be like? She didn’t know and wasn’t sure any relationship could survive eternity, but she desperately wanted the chance to find out.

  She nodded, and the tension in his body smoothed out as he relaxed.

  Without waiting, she dragged her shirt over her head, kicked off her boots, jumped up and tugged off her pants. In seconds, she was naked.

  Fergal sat, a slightly bemused expression on his face, but only for a moment. He reached out, his hard hands on her hips, and dragged her to him. She toppled onto his lap, and he slanted his mouth over hers.

  The kiss held an edge of desperation. Daisy opened to him, and his tongue pushed inside, filling her with the unique taste of him. She was used to it now and no longer found the hint of cold metal off-putting. Instead, it woke the sleeping darkness.

  But this time she didn’t fight or try to push it back down into its corner. Instead, she welcomed it as it stretched and reached out along her nerves, through her blood. She kissed Fergal back, her tongue stroking his, slow and gentle, and she felt him respond. Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her deeply and warmth stole through her, mingling with the rising darkness.

  His hands slipped down her body to slide around her rib cage just beneath her breasts, and he picked her up and laid her on the bed. Shifting so he lay half by her side, half over her, he rested on his elbow and stared down into her face.

  “I want to kiss you for hours, but…”

  “But we might not have hours,” she finished for him.

  He gave a wry smile. “You know one of the things I love about you is you always tell the truth.”

  “Yeah, it’s a bad habit. Now we are on a time limit here, so…” She slid her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down to her. She loved the feel of him, the heavy weight of his big body against hers. The hardness of his erection pushed against her hip, and she squirmed so she lay directly beneath him, then opened her legs and wrapped them around his waist. Now she could feel him pressed against her core, and she wriggled, sending shivers of pleasure pulsating through her.

  Fergal lowered his head and licked across one taut nipple, sucked it into his mouth. Heat flooded her, sinking down through her belly to her sex, leaving her drenched with need.

  He moved to the other breast, nipped it with his teeth, and a sharp jolt shot through her, lifting her hips from the bed, tightening the grip of her legs wrapped around him.

  One of his hands pushed between them to unfasten his pants, so she could feel the scalding heat of him against her skin. His other hand shifted lower, to ruffle through the curls at her sex, and one long finger slid inside.

  “Fuck, you’re wet,” he murmured. He pulled the finger out, rubbing the moisture up over her clit so she gasped at the sensation. Closing her eyes, she gave herself up to it as he massaged the swollen nub, bringing her to the brink. He stopped moving, and she blinked open her eyes.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  His gaze searched her face, and she knew what he was asking. She gave a jerky nod, and his lips curved up in a smile. “Good.”

  As he parted her with his fingers, the tip of his cock pushed inside, and he flexed his hips, filled her.

  Her spine arched, and she came in a flood of pleasure. He held himself motionless as her body spasmed, only withdrawing when she went still beneath him. The drag of his shaft against the sensitized skin almost brought her again, but she relaxed into the rhythm. He moved slowly, but with purpose, each long slow stroke filling her completely, pushing at her womb. She closed her eyes, concentrated on that place where they joined so all she knew was the ebb and flow of his body on her, in her.

  The pleasure was a heavy weight building inside her, spreading, suffusing her whole body with warmth, embracing the darkness so the coldness at her center entwined with the heat of his lovemaking.

  “You ready?” She vaguely heard the whispered question but had no power to speak, to break the spell holding her. Instead, she bucked her hips against him.

  He must have understood, because the tempo changed and he was pumping into her, faster now, harder, and at the end of each stroke, he ground against the swollen mass of nerves at her core. Everything inside her tightened, she was flying without a ship as she’d always dreamed of. Then he pushed again, and she shattered into a thousand pieces and she was falling, hurtling to the ground. She snapped open her eyes, and Fergal was there to catch her. As her back arched, he lowered his head, kissed her, thrust into her one last time, found his own release, and they were flying together.

  When she opened her eyes, the air was tinged with crimson. But she blinked, and it was gone. And the darkness slept.

  Fergal smoothed the hair from her face and dropped a kiss on to her forehead, then gripped her hips and turned her so she was lying sprawled across his body.

  “No biting.”

  She smiled. “Not even the urge to nibble.”

  “Should I be offended?”

  “No. My darkness likes you.”

  As she spoke the words, she realized they weren’t the whole truth. She loved him. She could see that now. And as she acknowledged the fact, warmth stole through her, easing the inner cold. That’s why the darkness hadn’t fought for control; it recognized Fergal, was content to share her. Love would always conquer the darkness.

  But even as she gave a name to her feelings, she knew she couldn’t say the words out loud. Not yet. They would have to wait until later. She suspected there were decisions ahead, hard decisions, and she didn’t want to burden Fergal with her love and make those decisions harder.
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  Maybe she deserved to die. Rico had never said to her outright, we are evil. Maybe he’d known she wasn’t ready to accept that truth. But he had hinted, told her there would come a time when she would have to face up to what she was and either accept or reject it. If she rejected it, she would fail. He’d told her there were vampires who courted destruction, unable to continue with the knowledge of what they had become. Even if you were immortal, it was easy enough to end it all if you wanted death enough.

  Now she could look inside herself, stare into the darkness, and accept it as part of her. She’d faced it clearly now, and she didn’t think she was evil. The darkness lacked a conscience, an understanding of the morals that governed most people’s lives. All it understood was hunger and need. But it was also willing to work with her if she allowed it, and together they could become something more. The outcome was really down to her. She could be anything she wanted. Well, if she got the chance and they didn’t fry her to a crisp at the first opportunity.

  Maybe there was a place in this world for such as her. And she’d rather be a bloodsucking monster than a hypocritical asshole like Hatcher, who killed in the name of some god who would probably strike Hatcher down with a bolt of lightning if he could be bothered.

  She lay with Fergal’s arms around her, listening to the thud of his heart while he stroked her hair. She should move. She really didn’t want to be naked when Stefan returned, but it felt so good to be held. Finally, she pushed herself up and pulled free. “Thank you,” she said.

  A lazy smile flickered across his face. “My pleasure, but for what, exactly?”

  “For trusting me. For giving me the courage and opportunity to trust myself.”

  “Anytime. But it worked, didn’t it? You were different this time. You weren’t fighting.”

  “No. It felt right. There was no conflict. As though at last I’m one person again. Not him and me. He likes you.”

  “He?”