“You’re wrong,” Sebastian retorted.
“And what do you care?” the blonde asked Sebastian. “You did what you were told.”
“My part is not done,” Sebastian hissed.
“What are you going to do?” Micah called after the other vampire.
“Take it back,” Sebastian whispered at the door, and then he was gone.
The blonde came to the bar, surveyed the wolf shifter, then smiled at Mel. “I’ll have what he’s having.”
“You’re not going after him?” the wolf shifter asked her.
“What for?”
“To defend his back.”
She laughed lightly. “He prefers to be alone. We all do.” Her expression turned mocking. “Unlike you, we don’t run in a pack. We don’t think like a hive. And we don’t work in unison.” She touched her beer, glanced to his and drank as the wolf shifter regarded her with disgust.
“What about the coven of mercy?”
“It’s a fluid consortium,” she said, much to Micah’s displeasure. “I think it might be a smaller one now.”
Something passed between the vampires, a current of energy so lethal that it seemed to crackle in the air between them. Mel couldn’t help but notice that Micah was the first to drop his gaze.
Because he hadn’t fed yet. He was weaker.
“This cannot be a good augury,” Raymond whispered as the mood shifted in the bar. The Others began to argue and once again, Mel felt their union crumbling.
How and why had Micah chosen the human woman who’d been given the book? Mel wanted to know more, but Micah flickered and retreated. He was gone before she could make a sound. How had Sebastian known to watch for the arrival of the book in Mel’s apartment? If Micah had told him, then how had Micah known? Who had the fallen angel been? How had Sylvia known to come to Bones? Mel had watched Sebastian give her the book, but had thought it to be a random choice.
She had the definite sense that the vampires were running their own game and withholding a lot of information.
Maybe the vampires were even on Maeve’s side.
The blonde vampire finished her beer, meeting Mel’s gaze over the rim of the glass, then smiled.
Sebastian left the Others without a backward glance.
The simple truth was that when anything of importance had to be done, it was better that he do it himself. He should never have allied with Micah and the Coven of Mercy. He should never have agreed to wait to collect the book, and he should never have surrendered it to Sylvia as Micah had instructed.
Micah had no respect for magick. Micah didn’t know the risks.
Sylvia needed to be defended.
At this point, the best Sebastian could do was retrieve the book and hypnotize Sylvia so that she forgot everything related to the book. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but screw-ups demanded compromises.
Sebastian hated compromise.
He wasn’t good at being part of a team. He’d taken care of himself for centuries, just fine. Self-sufficiency was part of what he loved about his nature, though it was convenient to hunt with Bella when he had time constraints.
He just wouldn’t do that very often.
In fact, he wouldn’t do it again. He was done with the coven, or would be as soon as he’d figured out what to do with the book.
First, he had to get it. That should be easy.
It felt good to run across the rooftops, although he cursed the high rise buildings that were springing up like mushrooms across the city. He liked cities with human scale, buildings that were maybe six stories high at most. Superman might be able to leap taller ones in a single bound, but Sebastian found them too ugly to test himself.
He went around them. But as the city grew, he knew that one day, the leaping he loved wouldn’t even be possible.
Perish the thought that he would move to the suburbs.
He landed on the roof of the building where Sylvia lived and listened. He could hear the residents in all the units of the converted townhouse but he was most interested in the two women on the top floor.
They were both sleeping, although one was more restless than the other.
Sylvia.
He moved silently to the small terrace at the front of the building, slipping from the roof under the cover of the shadows. He couldn’t descend all the way to the terrace, since there were buildings facing this one, with windows that weren’t covered. He peeked down from the corner and could just barely see her face.
She frowned in her sleep, her dark brows drawn together in concern. The expression made her look vulnerable and uncertain, a combination that appealed to Sebastian’s nobler impulses. Now that he had feasted, he could look at her without seeing how soft her skin was on her throat, without being so aware of the pulse of warm blood so close to the surface. Now that he had feasted, he could be a little more dispassionate in assessing her beauty.
Now that he had feasted, he could remember other sensual delights. When the thirst was upon him, it obliterated all other physical needs. The thirst was sated, and his desire for an intimate union grew.
Sylvia clutched something to her chest beneath the sheets and he guessed that it was the book. He doubted it could be pulled from her grasp without her noticing.
He’d have to wait for his moment.
Wait and watch.
Again.
She looked so vulnerable. It would be so easy to sink his teeth into her fair skin, to take her essence and her blood. She’d be safe from the dark queen then, because she’d be dead.
The very idea repelled him, which was interesting.
He wanted her to remain alive. He wanted her to continue with her dull little mortal life, as if he’d never intervened. He wanted to change the past few hours, wipe them out, not destroy her because of what he’d done. Strange how he killed mortals all the time with little concern, but this one, this one awakened his almost-forgotten sense of responsibility.
It would have been so much easier if she’d been oblivious to the book’s truth.
The fact that she wasn’t fed his fascination with her. She was more than an ordinary mortal and that made her worthy of his curiosity.
It made Sylvia special—and worth defending.
A taxi came down the street and Sebastian retreated to the roof, crouching beside the chimney where the shadows were deepest. He knew he should simply guard Sylvia from the roof, but the temptation was too great.
And Sebastian had never followed the rules.
It was only sensible to find out exactly what she’d seen. Yes, understanding the full extent of her memories was only sensible, because he’d have a better idea of how deeply to hypnotize her. It was flimsy, as excuses went, and he knew it. But he would take the justification for learning more about her all the same.
He took a deep breath, then slipped into Sylvia’s dreams, so smoothly that he might have even belonged there.
Ah, the red room. Sebastian smiled, knowing he could work with that.
Sylvia dreamed of the red room.
Once again, Sebastian closed the door behind himself. He leaned back against it, that seductive smile curving his lips, his eyes glowing with anticipation. Sylvia’s mouth went dry and her pulse skipped.
It had been so long, but this would be worth the wait.
He said nothing at all, but surveyed her, obviously pleased by what he saw. Sylvia glanced down to find herself wearing a black satin halter dress that looked vintage. It clung to her curves like nothing she had ever chosen to wear herself. Even without a mirror, she knew the back plunged low because she could feel the pillar of the bed against her bare back. The front also had a deep vee and she could see her own cleavage. Her skin looked very pale against the black. Her hair was twisted up and her neck was bare. Long earrings brushed against her throat when she moved. She wore high heeled sandals, also black, the heels much higher than she’d ever worn before. She could feel that she was wearing stockings and a garter belt, but not much else beneath the sm
ooth satin.
She felt seductive. Alluring. Sexy. It was an unfamiliar sensation.
Sebastian crossed the room with leisurely steps. He moved like a panther or a predator, slowly, as if he thought she might disappear—or flee. Sylvia stayed put, although her heart raced with greater and greater speed. When he was standing right before her, his smile broadened a little. She tipped her head back to hold his gaze and his eyes were such a vivid blue that she couldn’t look away. She couldn’t take a breath when he lifted one hand to her throat. His fingertips brushed against her skin, his gaze following the progress of his hand as he moved it upward. He touched her earring, making it tinkle, then slid his fingertip around the curve of her ear, making her tingle. His fingers slipped into her hair, pushing the pins out of her hair so that one heavy lock tumbled loose. His fingers tightened slightly, his grip turning possessive as his hand closed around her nape. He bent closer and Sylvia tipped her head back, her lips parting as his mouth grazed her jaw. He kissed her ear so gently that she shivered, then grazed it with his teeth. Sylvia felt as if her bones were melting, and that was before his lips brushed over hers.
It was a light kiss, a promise and a tease. He did it again and she heard him chuckle when she caught her breath. She couldn’t stand him being so close and not tasting her, so she straightened and leaned against him, sliding her hands around his waist. He was lean and strong, she fanned out her hands on the back of his waist before pressing herself against him. This time, he caught his breath and she glimpsed the hungry glitter in his eyes before his mouth slanted over hers in possessive demand.
His kiss was hungrier and more demanding than she’d expected, but Sylvia loved it. She kissed him back, opening her mouth to him, moaning at the expert caress of his lips and teeth and tongue. He hauled her against his chest, his desire setting her blood on fire, and his other arm locked around her waist. She arched against him, taut with need, then rubbed herself against his erection.
He inhaled sharply and backed away, taut with restraint. This time, his survey was quicker and hotter. On impulse, Sylvia unfastened the halter of the dress, baring her breasts to his view. Her nipples were dark and taut, and when he stared, throat working, she unzipped the dress and kicked it aside. He chuckled, his hand falling to the nest of curls at the top of her thighs, his gaze locking with hers as his fingers eased into her slick heat. Sylvia took a step to one side, giving him access, and gripped the post of the bed as she leaned back in surrender.
“Seductress,” he murmured, but didn’t seem to have an issue with that. He fell to his knees before her. His mouth closed over her and Sylvia gasped with pleasure as his tongue flicked over her clitoris. She sighed when he lifted her, placing her knees upon his shoulders, and braced herself against the bed as he ate her with leisure. Every time she approached her climax, he retreated, letting the passion build again, teasing her repeatedly with the promise of release until she heard herself beg for satisfaction. Her voice was husky and sounded strained to her own ears, as unlike her usual practical tones as could be imagined. His fingers gripped her buttocks, his demanding kiss drove her higher, and Sylvia writhed against the pleasure he was determined to give. His teeth grazed her clitoris and she cried out as the pleasure flooded through her, roaring with satisfaction.
She blinked at the sudden pounding and her eyes flew open. Her breath was short. The sheets were twisted around her, her skin slick with the patina of release, and the room smelled of her arousal. She was startled to find herself alone.
Then Celeste pounded on the ceiling beneath her once again.
Sylvia fell aback against the pillow. She’d awakened the neighbor with the sound of her release, and she’d done it all by herself.
That was a first.
Where was the book?
She panicked because it wasn’t in her hand or beneath the pillow, but she found it on the floor on one side of the bed. It was open and she wondered if she imagined the little glitter of gold dust above it.
Sylvia snatched it up, noting that it was open to the page with the list of vampires, then shoved it beneath her pillow.
She really had to get some sleep.
Daylight was the bane of Sebastian’s existence.
He hated it more than he hated anything in the world. Even the faintest glimmer of sunlight burned his skin and his eyes. He lingered so long with Sylvia and her seductive dreams that the sun was already cresting the horizon when he left. It was bad planning on his part. Once again, Sylvia had tempted him to change his routine and his rules.
She’d also fallen asleep on top of the book, leaving him no way to take it without awakening her. He’d been in her dreams, but would have needed to enter her apartment, as well, to claim a physical item. Better to hide the fact that he could pick the locks on her patio doors for the moment—and await a better opportunity.
The eastern sky was light when he raced across the rooftops and he knew he couldn’t flee far in time. The apartment where he’d watched for the book’s arrival was too distant, and probably not a good refuge anyway, given the portal to Fae in Melusine’s studio. If the dark queen hadn’t followed the fallen angel yet, she soon would.
Let her find Melusine alone. Mother and daughter understood each other as few others did.
He raced, ducking humans at their windows, and finally landed on the roof of the antique shop. He knocked and the door was opened immediately to him, although Rosemary’s gaze was assessing. He pushed past her and shut the door.
“Micah wants to talk to you,” she said.
“Micah will have to wait. I’m tired.” Sebastian eased past her and strode to the room he preferred.
It was the library, of course.
He pivoted once inside the room, met Rosemary’s gaze again, then flicked the door shut with his fingertips.
He turned the key in the lock, knowing that the lock offered no real barrier to his kind. He was making a point, and he heard Rosemary move away, choosing not to challenge him.
Micah must not have a revised plan.
The blinds were already down, but he pulled the heavy drapes over the windows, too. The room was glorious in its details, the retreat of a wealthy Edwardian gentleman, and the book collection was superb.
Sebastian turned on a desk lamp with a very low wattage bulb and surveyed the glass fronted bookcases. Was there any information in this library that he could use? He was too restless to sleep and old books so often held old secrets.
He started at the top shelf in one corner, opening the doors and running his fingertip along the titles, embossed in gold on the leather covers. There had to be something here about the Fae. It would have been written by a human, but sometimes, their kind inadvertently caught hold of a truth.
Four
Sylvia and Emily had a bit of a rush in the morning because they’d both slept in, but they did get to Penn Station in time for Emily’s train.
They had to run.
To Sylvia’s relief, Emily had missed her orgasm in the wee hours of the morning, and she didn’t feel inclined to tell her friend about it. They hugged and promised to get together more often, just the way they always did, then Emily complained about her headache.
“That’s what you get for ordering a drink called Name Your Poison,” Sylvia said. “Twice.”
“Don’t say it so loud,” Emily complained with a wince. Then she smiled. “Good birthday, though?”
“Great birthday, because you were here.”
“And it seems to be raining men around you. Maybe this is the year that you find the one.”
“I don’t need a partner.”
“But a man can be more fun than another vibrator.” Emily gave her another hug and turned toward the train platform. “Better conversation.” She looked back from ten paces away and shrugged, her eyes twinkling. “Usually.”
“I don’t need conversation...”
“No. You need an orgasm!” Emily shouted and people turned to look.
“Emily!”
Sylvia protested but her friend laughed, unrepentant.
And really, Sylvia didn’t want her to change one bit.
Sylvia waved one last time, then checked her watch before hurrying toward work. She was passing the stationary shop at the end of the block when she spotted notebooks in the window, notebooks just like the book the waiter had given to her.
On impulse, she ducked inside to look at them. These didn’t glimmer or change, no matter how much she looked at them or turned them. On impulse, she took two to the check-out.
“I can give you a better price on six,” the man there joked.
“All right,” Sylvia said, wondering just how often—and for how long—she’d have to defend this strange little book. She kept one in her hand and put the others in a foldable tote bag she kept in her purse for shopping. She zipped it up so no one would be able to see what was inside.
Maybe she was getting paranoid, but if someone wanted the book, they could snatch the cheap notebook out of her hand instead.
She should have felt vindicated that someone did.
Instead, Sylvia was alarmed.
It happened so fast. She was hurrying along the street to work, making her way through the crowds of people doing the same, holding tightly to the strap of her purse with one hand and the book with the other. She’d put the tote bag with the extra books on her shoulder, so that her purse was closest to her body and barricaded by the tote bag. She was right by the entrance to the subway, where people streamed down the stairs. It always made her think of lemmings, and it was a struggle to keep from being swept along with the tide.
Someone bumped her from behind on the purse side.
She glanced that way to look at the offender, and felt the book being tugged out of her other hand. By the time she looked back, she could only see a dark figure being swallowed by the crowd that flowed down to the subway station.
“Hey!” she shouted but no one paid any attention to her. She hadn’t even seen the thief—he or she wore a black coat, which didn’t exactly narrow the list of suspects—but she instinctively wanted to chase him or her.
Maeve’s Book of Beasts Page 6