“Don’t let him go in there,” I said.
Gideon stood to accompany him to get his clothes. “Once more, yeah? Then done for a good twelve hours minimum. Have to go back tomorrow for Marybeth.”
“Who is Marybeth?” I asked Gideon’s back.
“His motorcycle.” They walked out.
As soon as they were gone, Wade shifted his chair close to me. “So you inherited this place? Just getting settled?”
Was this the fourth date now?
“I have vampire brain in my hair.” I wiped up the final round of sauce from my fingers, then dropped paper towels into the second box as I stood. Finding my own beer can empty, I took a drink from Gideon’s. “I know we need to … well…”
“Discuss?” Wade suggested. “Plan the next move?”
“Right. Maybe while Adam is getting his appendages sorted out and vacuuming up his next supper, I’ll shower. I’ll be quick. Then we can sit down and…”
Wade stood to be right in my face while I was talking. I felt like I should move away, or tell him to back off since he was the one invading, but I didn’t want to. Only “should” while I wondered why some people have to be so difficult to peg. Here was the sort of guy who you’re not even sure if he’s an extrovert or introvert, much less how his other pieces fit together. Had he lied about his experience? In light of not having any other casters to help out, did it matter? I wasn’t being totally honest with them either. That didn’t mean I couldn’t get the job done. Only … it might possibly mean exactly that.
I started to step away.
Wade followed. “Earlier, in the room, by the window, I didn’t mean to … you know. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. If I overstepped.”
He knew he hadn’t, knew I’d been all over him. He was fishing for me to say I was totally into him or whatever it is that guys want to hear when they pretend to apologize and really they’re seeking coddling, or ego-stroking.
That was the first moment it occurred to me since meeting the guy behind the bed that my conversation with him had been private. Wade and Gideon might like to know about that. What had happened to them when we’d been separated? Another thing to talk about instead of going around like college buddies hanging out for no special reason. Mom would have said I was in shock after the upsets of the house. I wasn’t in shock. This felt more like … relief. I didn’t have people in Midway City. A few friends in Atlanta, but I’d mostly had my parents and some contacts in the community—getting ready for school, focused on other things.
Now I had these guys and I’d launched my mission, and everything had gone shit-faced wrong, but what the hell? I was moving, wasn’t I?
Relief and refocus and even just plain happy.
Was I drunk? One fruity beer? Not hardly.
My lips were on fire, blood pumping, lungs working. No matter how much of a mess we’d made of that house we’d come out alive. That had to count as a victory right now.
I could have kissed Wade. I could have pretended he had sauce on his nose and licked it off. I thought about it. Yet I wasn’t actually drunk, or totally unaware of the situation I’d placed myself in—bringing these guys home. Sure, I liked them, ready to admit that to myself, but I hadn’t lost every shred of perspective.
I glared at Wade. “This is how you want to make up for it?”
He eased back at my tone. “Sorry.”
“Whatever. Just … kill the candles. The only finished room downstairs is the family room in the back with the TV. Make yourselves at home and I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.”
As I left the room I saw him touch the side of the beer can for the condensation, then pinch out the flames. Why? Was he that magic-drained? He’d been the same about the door locks. Flipping a basic deadbolt or similar wasn’t exactly a magic sinkhole.
I hurried upstairs, talking automatically to the cats as I went. “It’s okay, Chester, the new people aren’t going to eat you up. Are you in my room, Casper? It’s just me.”
I wasn’t staying in my parents’ room but the unfinished guest room that I’d used while staying over before. It was the farthest along, paper stripped and partly furnished and painted. There was only one bathroom upstairs, no master suite, and this was next-door in the middle of transformation. New toilet, new shower stall, 1950s sink, with a broken cabinet door and no real mirror, just a tiny one hung above. No bathtub at all, having been removed—that side of the room a mess of plaster and pipes sticking from the wall with water shut off.
My room had a queen-sized bed and antique bedroom set from my mom’s family. Didn’t exactly match the sawhorse dining set.
I turned on the light and fan in the bathroom and hurried into the bedroom to grab clothes. Around the doorframe to the dresser, snatching from the stacks on top. I set my glasses on the dresser.
A tiny floor creak.
“Casper?” I started to turn as light coming in through the hallway flickered.
Too late. A wad of fabric in a very strong hand clamped around my mouth before I could scream.
21
“Shhh… You know the routine. No screaming, nothing stupid, and you’ll be fine. I came here to help, not harm you.”
As he spoke, the man who held me pushed the door shut with his foot, plunging us into darkness with only a light at the bottom crack in the door and moonlight through the window.
Initial attempts to kick or elbow had been fruitless as he was a slippery customer, ready for my every move. That left magic to blast us apart. I gathered energy but hesitated, listening with my heart in my throat and breaths choked off. It was my own T-shirt or similar in my face—scent of laundry soap. He’d been in here poking through my things, waiting for me.
Did he have a weapon? Was he a caster? Those hands were strong as steel bands. A fresh chill. Was he … inhuman? Vampires didn’t last but they started their deaths far stronger and more agile than living flesh. If there had been a fox in the trunk, could something else have followed us here? How? To “help” us? I’d believe that when pigs flew.
Just get him to back off. That was the first step. Noise and magic after. Three guys downstairs who could help. But I didn’t need their help if I had a moment to marshal my own powers.
I nodded, willing myself to stop squirming, relaxing rigid muscles to show I wasn’t fighting.
“See how easy?” He breathed in my ear, hot in the warm but not stifling room. He had to be connected to all this, yet it still left so many questions.
“Very nice,” he continued, voice silken, smoky as a luscious barbecue sauce with bite in the background. A voice I knew. “Just a little talk, you and I, and you’ll see how we can work together. A quiet little talk…” Trailing away to a breath while he pulled off the cloth with one hand, drawing the fingers of the other hand along my arm as he stepped back.
He tossed the shirt on the dresser when he slipped to my side, between me and the door, and I turned, also slow, no sudden moves, until we were nose-to-nose.
“How did you get here?” Another ripple of fear, extra terror for more that I could not explain or tackle.
“Called a cab, Cabby.” He grinned, flash of teeth visible with the hint of moonlight on his face. Inches apart, no longer touching, though I still felt heat off him.
“What do you want?”
“How about a seat?” Gesturing to my bed.
“How about you explain yourself and get out of here?”
“How about … compromise?” He lifted his eyebrows, still grinning, maybe a smirk. His tone was even smokier, slow and seductive as butter melting on pancakes. “The building blocks of any strong relationship, so I’m told.”
I jumped involuntarily when he touched my hand but he held on, pulling my fingers up until he could kiss them.
“Delicious. Did you bring me wings?” His hot tongue touched my skin and I jerked my hand away, my own breaths panting in my burning ears. “Nervous? Dreadfully sorry. I haven’t even introduced myself.” He caught my hand again.
He was my height. Also, I was just noticing in the dark, shirtless. He wore some sort of slacks or jeans, but nothing else. Barefoot even? Knee to the balls, or stomp to the foot—I did still have on shoes—then quick blast of magic and dash from the room? And … if he responded with magic? Find out what’s going on. That seemed the thing. Then action.
“No,” I said, voice tight as a piano wire, “you haven’t. Maybe that can head your explanation.” Deep breath, just chill. He didn’t seem to have a gun or anything. Even if he did have magic, so did I.
“May I ask you something first? ¿Por favor?” Taking my other sweaty hand which I tried subtly to pull away.
“Why don’t you just go ahead with the introductions? That’s usually first.”
He moved even closer. His breath smelled woody, like herbal tea, or even fresh cut grass. I willed myself not to give ground, not to focus on the wham, wham, wham of my heart or feel of the heat off his skin, but getting answers and mastering the situation.
He pulled up my hands, so we seemed to be about to pray together. “You were foolish tonight. I regret your actions.” He kissed the knuckles of my left hand, two, three kisses, while my pulse sped and skin shivered and sweat broke out on my back. “I wouldn’t want to see you come to harm. How often does one meet a woman so reckless? So daring? So passionate? So … tall?” Kissing across my right hand.
Even as I considered stomping on his foot, his words distracted from other sensations and desires with a ripple of irritation. “Reckless? Really? We’re doing a job.”
“How wonderfully vivacious of you. Does it pay well? These public servant jobs aren’t always what they’re cracked up to be.” His tongue again touched my fingers as I tried to pull my hands free. “Lovely, how blue cheese and spice work so well. Fire and ice.” He took my fingertip in his mouth, sucking at traces of sauce that remained around the nail.
I jerked my hand away, bringing his along since he wouldn’t let go. He was nearly standing on my feet, the hyper-sharp lines of his face almost touching mine, growing more visible as my eyes got used to the dark. His whole body was like that. All sharp sinew and straight lines. His muscles didn’t stand out in curving perfection like the werewolves, but bands of muscle and sleek outlines revealed bone structure of ribs and hips and collarbone.
“Why wound so tight?” he crooned as he leaned in, holding my hands. “Do I scare you?”
“You broke into my home and showed up in my bedroom in the middle of the night. I mean, do you see me screaming and panicking? But it’s still kind of a stupid question.”
“You broke into my home in the middle of the night, Cabby. Let’s not throw stones. You didn’t hurt me. I won’t hurt you.” Drawing my hands in again.
I wouldn’t turn this into a tiny wrestling match. He was obviously a hell of a lot stronger than me. I let him keep my hands, thinking fast.
“Tell me who you are and what you’re doing here,” I said.
“Humans must be the most impatient species. You don’t have to hunt anymore, do you? You don’t wander the plains to graze. You don’t crouch at rabbit holes or circle the skies or stalk beetles, fish, or elk. You want everything just so, right now, chop-chop, in a package, on the go, streaming, instant, now, now, now. Can’t hear? Plug it straight into your ear. Can’t wait in line? Order it for next-day delivery, same-day, or store pick-up. Do you know how long a cat will spend waiting in one spot where she knows the hummingbird swoops low in an arc toward the feeder? Hours. For one tiny, possible prize. And you can’t even wait for a dude to tell you his name.”
“Wow. Really deep and insightful. And you’re right. Surprise. If you don’t tell me who you are and what you’re doing here in the next ten seconds I’ll blast you through that door and you’ll be lucky to get out of here at all before my friend downstairs blows your head off.”
He sucked gently at the middle finger of my right hand, licking around the nail and joint.
I shivered and involuntarily started to tug away again. Of course, he held on.
“I’m at your service, señorita. I came to warn you. The old stiffs in the big house were displeased by the destruction you brought. You’d have done well to finish the job. Since you scampered out a window after merely irritating the locals, there’s a price on your head.”
“How do you know? You’re not a vampire.”
“Think of me as a double agent.” He looked up from my hands, nose almost brushing mine. “If you have a message for them, I can take it. If you want to fight back, the only thing you can do is finish the job you started at the house.”
“You’re saying you’re a friend, or at least associate, of vampires? But you’re alive? And you’ve come to tell me to finish destroying the vampires? Is that right? So … what part are you not telling me? Because that sounds like me going to the home of a burglar and saying, ‘Hey, I noticed you only bumped someone in my family on the head while you were there before. You’d better go back and kill them all if you want any peace.’ Yeah? I mean, you see where I’m coming from? Would you believe you?”
“I don’t believe anything I hear. Only what I … taste.” So, so close.
I was still trying not to give ground but jumped back when his tongue touched my lips. “Quit it,” I panted, shivering, his hands tight on mine, holding me there.
He followed, again closing the distance. “Vel. Vel Teumessian. Want to see some magic? You’ve never met anyone with a sense of taste like mine.”
“Tell me why you’re really here. And how you got in.” I took a step back.
He followed, nose touching mine. “Ripley, Ripley what? I devour your passion, Ripley.”
“Devour?” Easing back.
“The room, your admirers, your sense of adventure was contagious. I can tell who you are by how you taste.”
“Bully for you. But you need to tell me who you are, and why, and be on your way.”
“You don’t believe me. I can tell you what you dream about by how you taste.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s like palmistry to me. Oh pure, silken skin of youth, tasting of the heat of August, what secrets will you reveal?”
“Is Vel short for something?”
“Just Vel.” He looked up, clasping my hands against his chest, breath in my face, our noses almost brushing, a new tension and excitement in his hold. “Let me show you. Your scent sings to me. Your skin mocks me. Let me tell your fortune in your flesh. Never have I been so tempted as tonight. Surely you would not deny my perfection meeting yours when you don’t deny two new lovers in a dusty room as romantic as a filling station? You already know I’m far more worthy. Your heart beats for me as it did not for them. Your soul leaps with mine as easily as two candle flames merge.”
“How do you know they’re new? We clear houses together. We’re partners working on—”
He was laughing. “You can’t lie to me. You might as well know from the start—”
“Start of what?”
“If they were existing lovers I would taste them on you. I would taste the many nights of sweat and arousal melting off your skin. I would inhale sweet perfume of the mornings you all wake together tangled under the same sheets. I would already have savored the intoxicating bouquet of your lust layered atop the noxious stench of the essence they left in your body. No, you three had never touched like that before tonight. And you never will again if you don’t let me help you—because you’ll all be dead.”
He was meeting my eyes now, still holding my hands but fixated on my face.
I couldn’t get my breath. Again. I couldn’t … something…
I should be upset about a stranger being … well … the circumstances. Yet I was sure that didn’t adequately cover this blazing feeling in my chest and face and everywhere.
I swallowed. “You tell me why you’re really here, what’s going on, and I’ll … and you can… Just a small taste.”
He pressed his lips to mine, hot as this afternoon in
the sun. I stepped back. He followed, moving with me, and back, follow, in a dance, until my shoulder hit the wall beside the window. His feet made no noise on the old boards. He really was barefoot. So stomp down. Or a knee up into his groin would wipe the smile off his curved, hot, sensual lips. Perfectly normal replies to such a situation. Not only normal, highly encouraged and all around sensible.
He stood so close, body pressing into mine, way too close for a knee. Tight and strong and freaking hot. Sweating all over again, couldn’t breathe, blood rattling to the soles of my feet. So totally not numb.
I opened my mouth for his tongue.
22
The woody taste intensified with the heat. There might have been a hint of weed about it, as in pot smoke, not woodlands. I couldn’t tell. He certainly didn’t seem stoned now, so purposeful.
He explored my lips and tongue, licked my teeth and sucked and nibbled at my lips while I shivered, flat against the wall, pulse speeding and skin dripping. This new layer of sweat bloomed as my temperature rose and he shrouded me in his own heat, while wetness of my mouth and between my legs felt like a deluge.
He moved down my jaw to taste my neck, licking and inhaling as far as my ear.
“There, okay.” I twisted sideways. I should mean it, put some force into it, but I sounded like someone sleep-jogging: both breathless and zoned out.
He kissed down my throat, into my collar. He bit and tasted the fabric. Could he taste vampire brains?
“Why are you really here?” Deeper breath. Come on, Ripley—pull yourself together, dammit.
“You,” he breathed into my skin. He came back up for another taste of my lips. “Seeing you with them, right in front of me and out of reach… I told you…” Another kiss. “Your passion, your energy, the scent of you… Wasted on them. Wasted on a limited human and a stupid oaf. All well and good to have wolves along to fight vampires, Cabby. But don’t embarrass yourself by throwing that passion their way. You’re so much more. They’re so much less. It’s true the vampires are … unsettled. And you’d better take note. But I’m here for you. You would be here for me if you knew what all I could offer.”
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