by Zoe Forward
“Sorry,” she muttered. Oh dear, she was face to chest with him, and her gaze darted to his wide shoulders. Her mind filled in details beneath the T-shirt, like the perfectly proportioned muscles.
He ducked his head and brushed his mouth lightly against hers. She inhaled sharply. But instead of stepping away like she should because this couldn’t happen…because this guy made her lose her mind, she melted into him, desperate for a taste. She grabbed a handful of his shirt to pull him to her.
He took the invitation. Desire ripped through her when his tongue slid across hers and lightly explored. His grip was powerful, his kisses soft and explorative. There was no fumbling as his lips took control.
Oh, God. He wasn’t stopping. Neither was she.
Giving herself freely into the surprise of the kiss, she allowed herself to relax, to enjoy the forbidden moment. Every hard angle of his body pressed into her in all the right places. She dropped her hands to his waist, fighting the urge to drop them so much lower.
What was she doing?
She pulled away and pushed his chest to put a few inches between them. “No. Whatever this is…I’m sorry. All my fault, I’m sure.”
“Kiera…”
“Erase it from your mind. It didn’t happen.” She touched her now-puffy lips with a finger.
“It happened.” His blue eyes remained focused on her lips where she touched.
Oh my. How she wanted to do it again. And again. She shoved the longing back into its box and locked it away for examination at another place and time far from here and now. She muttered, “I’m losing my mind.”
“Me, too.” He pressed the button for the elevator. His head dropped as he sagged against the elevator frame. He fisted his free hand. The doors opened, and he stepped on. “This is a first for me. You’re a vamp, and I’m in a war against your kind.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “If only—”
The doors sealed. He hadn’t tried to stop them.
Chapter Six
Kiera blinked into the darkness of her room. Goose bumps studded her arms, but this wasn’t from the coolness of late night. Cold bothered her, so she kept her house warm. The ambient temperature remained perfect.
She threw off her covers, not that she’d been asleep, and jogged to the elevator, swamped with need to check on Michael.
This wasn’t a new experience. When she connected with someone emotionally, she picked up the other’s distress. Happened all the time with her sister, Carol, even though they were usually thousands of miles apart.
Right now, something had him worked up.
Adric lay zonked out on guard duty with his head against the hallway wall. She removed the precariously perched computer off of his lap to set it on the floor.
“I’ve got this,” she whispered to him. “Go to bed.”
Adric stood, mumbled something incoherent, and stumbled to the elevator. He pressed the up button. He conked out in weird spots all the time. She had full confidence he’d find a comfortable space upstairs.
Inside the bedroom, Michael rolled and threw off his covers, still asleep. A small noise escaped him, something that sounded purposefully stifled. Sweat plastered the hair on his forehead.
She shut and locked the door. Touching him wasn’t smart. Blay’s words filtered through her mind: When he wakes up, there’s a high probability he’ll kill you. Was that because he got violent when jolted out of sleep?
She couldn’t leave him like this.
A tiptoe nearby didn’t wake him up. Standing a few feet away, she said, “It’s not real. Wake up.”
He continued to thrash and then stilled, breathing rapidly.
She sat next to him and smoothed damp hair off his forehead. “You’re not there. You’re here with me.”
His arms flailed, curling around her body and whacking her spine. She landed against his chest with an “oomph.”
He froze. Eyes wide open.
Where had the knife pressed tight to her throat come from? His acute smell must’ve detected vampire and triggered his kill reflex.
She blinked into his gaze. The instinct to fight for freedom clawed at her mind so fervently that her body began to shake and her fangs tingled. Stay still. She wasn’t a person who’d go down without a struggle. Even though Michael outweighed her and he had advanced training, she had little doubt she could win a one-on-one fight.
“Knife,” she choked out. The dull blade scraped her skin, but she didn’t smell her blood.
His eyelids opened and shut, but he didn’t remove the knife. Did he register her as real?
Waking him had been one of her worst decisions ever.
“Do you know who I am? Kiera? Remember me? Not your enemy.” She arched to move her neck away from the knife, but his arm kept her banded close to him. “You were having a nightmare.”
Still, he didn’t release her.
She strangled out, “Remove the knife or I’ll hurt you.”
He lowered the weapon but retained a tight grip on it. The danger lingered too close.
She made a super-speed move to stand beside the bed, which put her well out of range. She clasped her hands together to hide their shaking. A few deep breaths did little to settle the violent predator within her clamoring to dominate her attacker.
Had he pinched one of her kitchen knives? Damn. Total respect for him swiping it without her noticing. Still, she tracked every minute motion of the blade.
“Why are you in here, Kiera?” He pushed himself up onto his elbows, the covers falling to expose his naked chest. “I could’ve fucking killed you.”
Her focus didn’t deviate from the weapon. “I almost killed you.”
His lips curled upward.
“Are you questioning my skills?” She squared her shoulders.
“I would’ve won,” he said.
“You have no idea what I’m capable of.” The ferocity surged again.
He lifted the knife and offered it handle first toward her.
She grabbed it and flung it across the room, where it lodged into the wooden doorframe.
“Show off.” He released a small chuckle, the deep sound so rich it deflated all her anger.
“I would’ve won.”
“Perhaps.” He fell back against the pillows and covered his eyes. Humor disappeared. “Not a fight worth dying over.” His pain called to her need to help.
“How long has it been since you slept without nightmares?”
“Go away.” It came out a ragged whisper.
“That long, huh?” She sat next to him and took his large hand, fully expecting him to yank it away. But he didn’t.
This war-hardened warrior suffered, either from something in his past or maybe the trials of the current war. As leader of the werewolf offensive, he had no choice but to keep it together for everyone else. She understood too well hiding suffering until alone, of holding the frayed edges together in public for all the people who depended on her. She doubted he’d admit to PTSD. Maybe she could help him a little bit. For the werewolf cause, right?
Nah, for herself because she liked him. A little bit too much.
“Get out of here,” he ordered and tacked on a harsh glare.
Unfazed by his attempt to intimidate her, she released his hand, intent on brushing sweat-soaked hair off his forehead. “I want to help. I think I—”
“I don’t want your help,” he interrupted, catching her fingers before she touched him again. This time, he dropped her hand like it burned him. “Go. Take your empath magic elsewhere. Lock me in. Or, better yet, drug me again so I don’t hurt anyone else who might wander in here.”
“I’m not going to shoot you up.” She lay down next to him with her head on his shoulder and her palm flat to his chest. Cozying up might be idiotic, but he needed a connection to a living being.
“What the
hell are you doing? I’m not interested.”
“Oh, you’re interested. I could prove it in about three seconds.” She compressed her lips to hide her smile when he grunted.
“What happened upstairs was a bloody mistake.” Although said with indignation, he didn’t move to push her away.
“Don’t worry. This isn’t a booty call. Things are complicated enough between us without throwing sex into the mix. You owe me for saving your life, though. So I’m calling in that favor right now. I want you to do something for me.”
“What?” he asked with a buttload of unease in his tone.
Her fingers swept back and forth across his chest. She liked how solid he was and how fast his heart beat despite his stoic exterior. His breath caught when her fingers neared his nipple. One deep inhale of him and she captured the scent of the red liquid charging through his veins—pure heaven.
“Tell me one thing in your life that makes you happy. One thing that makes you relax and smile. Perhaps your mate or a child? Maybe a pet or a car?” Please don’t blow me off.
“Stop this thing with your hand. It’s distracting.” He trapped her hand beneath his to hold it still against his chest. “I never took a mate. Never had much time for romance. I’ve never met anyone who inspired more than a one-off affair.”
“I’m sorry. Is there something else, then? Maybe a place?”
“Happiness…I don’t remember what that is. I can’t access much emotion anymore and haven’t in a long time.”
“Maybe not, but you’re feeling right now.” She glanced down at the erection tenting the covers.
He scowled. “That’s a physical reaction. Not emotional.”
“There’s got to be something you dredge up in your darkest moments.” She levered upward to search his face. “I’m not asking for a romantic connection between us. I’m not trying to dredge personal information from you to use against you later. I want to help you see a way to ground yourself when you’re alone and in trouble. When you’re trapped in one of those bad dreams.”
He stared at the ceiling. “You ask a lot.”
She zeroed in on his pounding jugular vein. To lick over it…no! One drop of his blood and I’ll die. This is enthrallment aura. “I want to understand why you get lost to nightmares when most of us cling to the few positives in our lives to keep our minds clear of the horrific parts.”
His body loosened, and he breathed easier. “I often sit on the veranda at the back of my house and look at the mountains. Well, one particular mountain, as the sun rises and sets. The colors catch in the trees and scatter. It’s even better when I’m on the mountain, under the trees, and can watch the sun filter down until the light disappears.”
“Have you climbed this mountain a lot? I’m not sure how high it is. I mean, if it’s Mount Everest-type height, then maybe not.”
He rolled, dislodging her from on top of him, and gave her his back. “It’s a hill in comparison to Everest. I’ve run up it thousands of times. I’d remember the paths blindfolded. There was a particular tree at the top that I knew since she was young. I watched her grow over the years. We’d sit together and mark the passage of time.”
She hooked fully into his emotions, not something she often allowed. Usually, she only aimed to pick up bits and pieces. A full mental lock could leave her incapacitated for minutes or even hours if the other person experienced profound feeling. But she believed Michael wouldn’t hurt her. Holy shit, she trusted him to protect her if she was rendered defenseless.
Can’t breathe. Ribs crushing. Too much pain. She gasped when she could finally tug in air and disengage from his emotions. Quick swipe to remove the tears streaming down her cheeks before he noticed. She struggled to distance herself from the churn inside his head. Why so much reaction over a tree?
“What happened to this tree?” That came out steady. Stop crying.
“A developer bought the back half of the mountain last year. For some asinine reason, they bulldozed a road straight to the top and cut down the tree. One day she was there. Then she was gone. Over two hundred years gone in an instant.”
She wrapped her arms around him as much as she could and squeezed, unsure if she sought comfort for herself or him. “She was there one day, alive and vital, and taken for granted. Then, the next moment, she’d been stolen from you. No one gave you time to say good-bye.” Like my sister, Arie. Alive one day. Murdered the next.
Head against his back, she listened to his steady heartbeat. She marveled at how strong and sturdy it felt even if he remained stiff beneath her. He didn’t make a single move to indicate he accepted or liked her there. No way she’d attempt to read his emotions again. One more immersion into the chaos of his feelings and she’d be rocking back and forth for hours, or she might pass out.
She whispered, “We have to remember the best of those we loved and lost. To focus on the loss is a path to personal destruction.”
His arm unexpectedly wrapped her waist as he rolled toward her. God, she wanted him to take this further. Another kiss… She shouldn’t. This was taboo and deadly on too many levels.
“You here is a bad idea,” he whispered.
It probably is. “You needed me.”
“I don’t need anyone.”
She scooted to the edge of the bed and sat up. “I’ll go. You’re right. This is a bad idea wrapped in futility.”
“No, don’t.” He caught her arm before she rose. “Not yet. Please, stay longer. This is difficult, dealing with the new feelings. You somehow allow me to feel certain emotions again. I’m trying to get a handle on it, but I’m not doing a great job.”
“Another minute.” She tucked her head against his chest again and grinned as she rode the rise and fall of each breath. His heavy arm around her offered a sense of safety when that was so far from the truth.
“Why didn’t you buy the land? Preserve what you could?” she asked.
“Some of us aren’t made of money.” It came out gentle, not reproachful or upset. “Many rely on me to support them. What I bring in from investments pays for their welfare and the war.”
You keep little for yourself. Generous. Not something she ran across in vampires often, actually not at all. “You’re not at all what I expected. Certainly not a deranged vampire killer.”
“Disagree. I kill all vampires I cross.”
“Except me.”
“You’re different.” Wrinkles appeared mid-forehead as his gaze fell to her mouth.
She licked her lips.
He rubbed his thumb over her mouth, a tremor in his touch. He was…nervous?
His voice came out rough as he whispered, “So goddamned beautiful. You’re driving me nuts. I don’t like it.”
Suffocated by his words, his proximity, and the way he looked at her, the world dropped away as if nothing else around her existed. Her pulse vibrated an erratic rhythm that didn’t make sense.
“I’ve never wanted someone not of my species before either. But…” This hurt her so much. Yet it had to be said. “We can’t. Us naked means I’ll want to bite. You might want to bite, too. Crap…” She nibbled on her lip and groaned. “Sorry, the imagery was hot.”
His breathing hitched.
Her cheeks scorched. “If I bite you, I’ll die. It’ll be messy.”
“I’m not keen on being bitten. Biting you, though…”
“Not helping.” She covered her face. “Being serious here. It’s not going to happen.”
“Agreed.”
Now he’ll kick me out. But he didn’t.
“You want me to stay for a while?” she offered. “Make sure the nightmares don’t come back at least for tonight?”
“I’d like that.”
“It’s okay to sleep. I’ll stay. I promise not to do anything to make this any weirder.”
The sensation of safety with Michae
l next to her made no sense. She’d never experienced this for even a moment with the vampire she’d been mated to in 1865. Armand had been a self-absorbed, power-hungry asshole with little care for her. If she shared his bed, he wanted to be pleasured. He didn’t want her to be imaginative. He directed and she complied or he punished. He never pleasured her or spoke with her as an equal in their twenty years together. There’d been no companionship. No trust. No fidelity. He considered her a failure and never hesitated to point out her deficiencies, lack of offspring leading the list.
Avoidance of any sort of deep, long-lasting connection had become second nature to her. Never would she be trapped under another male’s control. To discover intimacy with another living being to be somewhat comforting freaked the hell out of her. Thank God, after tomorrow this wouldn’t happen again.
She snuggled in next to him and whispered, “I’m going to miss you when you leave.”
…
Just leave her be, Michael told himself as he regarded her, tucked into his body. She’d been the one to doze off, not him.
She lay on her side with her head on his shoulder, her knees tucked up tight with her hands curled under her chin. The position was so innocent, it reminded him of a child. Dark lashes rested on pale cheeks, and her hair lay tangled down the arch of her back.
He might never see her like this again. When awake, she’d be back to herself, and he’d resurrect the species barrier between them.
He liked this, the companionship. He’d miss this when he left. Wasn’t that just the mind fuck of the century?
He liked lying next to someone who was a member of the species he’d fought against without a second thought for centuries, ever since they tortured him. Her kind drilled bolts into his shoulder blades and chained him to a wall. In addition to the agony of the silver bolts’ continuous burn, they’d stripped his dignity to the point where he begged for death. They refused. That he’d never forgive.
Maybe his real insanity lay in his never-ending thirst for revenge. He sought the next opportunity to eliminate vampires, even though he never found satisfaction from killing them. He’d assassinated every leech that humiliated him eons ago. He then targeted their descendants, but none of it freed him from the past. Maybe he’d wanted them to give him a better fight, perhaps even best him. There was freedom in death.