Midnight's Kiss

by Thea Harrison

  Yeah, I knew my people-reading meter got you pegged right, asshole. Lowering her head, she studied him for a moment.

  Then she gave him a small, sad smile. She even threw in a quivering lip for good measure. “It didn’t have to come to this,” she whispered. “I liked you – I really liked you. If you had only asked me, I would have done so much better than a floor show.”

  The barrel of the gun lowered a notch.

  “What do you mean?” he said shortly.

  Wrapping her arms around her torso, she shivered and said pathetically, “Never mind. I don’t care if I could touch you between the bars. I – I don’t want to do it now.”

  The silence that greeted that statement sounded downright thunderous.

  This is unbelievable, she thought she heard Julian whisper.

  But she wasn’t sure, because Anthony spoke at the same time. “That just opened up a whole world of possibilities, princess.” Wiping his mouth, he ordered, “Come here.”

  “No. No, don’t make me,” she said, shaking her head as she hunched her shoulders. Meanwhile, she ran through her repertoire of moves. How far should she take the victim act? Would a sob be too much at this point?

  She had just decided that yes, a sob would be too much, when —

  The gun went off.

  In the enclosed area, the report was deafening. She felt herself shriek rather than heard it, while at the same time she dropped into a crouch and threw her arms over her head.

  The sound died, leaving a roaring echo behind.

  SAY SOMETHING, MELLY!

  It took her a moment to realize that she hadn’t actually been shot. Shakily, she said, I’m okay.

  Julian said, Jesus Christ. If I’d had a heartbeat, it would have stopped.

  “That’s the only warning I’m going to give you,” said Anthony. “Now, do what you’re fucking told, and come here.”

  Numbly, she walked over to the bars, watching every move the Vampyre made. He strolled toward her and even licked his lips. The whole thing was almost like a scene from a really bad, bad – bad – movie, except it wasn’t. It was horribly real.

  “Unbutton your top,” the Vampyre told her. “Press your breasts between the bars.”

  Watch the gun.

  She did as she was told, slowly unbuttoning the front of her top until it hung free, revealing the lacy bra underneath. She had to put her shoulders back to get her full, round breasts to jut between the bars.

  As she did, she glanced up at the Vampyre’s face. His gaze was fixed on her breasts. Slipping one hand to the stake at her back, she eased it free of her waistband and held it in a clenched grip.

  The sound of frenzied snarling penetrated her ringing ears. When Anthony stepped in front of her, he laughed. “Guess who finally woke up? We’re going to have an audience. That kind of makes me hot.”

  Easy, soldier, she whispered to Julian. It’s all going to be okay.

  Watch the gun and his hands, not his face.

  “I wonder what you taste like,” Anthony said. “I bet your blood is as rich as the rest of you, isn’t it? I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before. The possibilities are almost endless. I could make you get on your knees to suck me off. Or if you turn around and bend over, I could – why I could fuck a princess through these bars…”

  She had to clamp down on the need to spit in his face. Every muscle in her body screamed for her to move. Not yet, Melly.

  Not yet.

  Anthony shot one of his hands between the bars and grabbed her by the throat. Then, confident and still laughing, he tucked the gun in the waist of his jeans.

  Halle-fucking-lujah.

  She exploded into movement. Grabbing him by the wrist, she tore free of his grip, braced herself and heaved as hard as she could, yanking him toward her.

  She caught him completely off balance. As his body slammed into the bars, she lunged toward him and staked him in the chest. Rage lent her a delicious amount of strength. This time she didn’t even wince as she felt the blunt end of her stake penetrate the tough barrier of his chest wall.

  Please, don’t let me miss his heart.

  For one pulsing moment, the world froze. Anthony stared at her with an expression of shock and betrayal – what the hell – before crumbling into dust. The gun, which was not organic, clattered to the floor, along with a jangling bunch of keys, and a whistle.

  “Jesus,” Julian spat out again. “Are you all right?”

  Was she? For one reason or another, her throat had taken a lot of abuse lately. She massaged the sore muscles with one hand.

  “I’m okay,” she croaked. Betrayal, bah. Life hadn’t turned out to be quite how Anthony had imagined, had it? Angrily, she hitched a shoulder as she buttoned up her top again. “I only wish I could stake the bastard twice.”

  Julian watched Melly go through the tedious process of breaking out of her cell and into his again.

  She gave him a wary look. “You’ve torn your wrists completely raw,” she croaked. “You need to calm down, soldier. Everything’s all right.”

  That was easier said than done. At the threat of Vampyre Guy raping Melly, he had gone berserk, and that didn’t ease away in an instant, or because of a few soft-spoken words.

  He knew he must look like a monster out of one of Melly’s horror movies. His fangs had descended, and the structure of his face had changed. His eyes would be red and glowing, and all his fingernails had lengthened into talons.

  His body had prepared itself for a life-and-death fight, only the fight had already been won. He was too far gone into his rage to do any more than snarl wordlessly at her.

  She had collected everything Anthony had left in the hall and set it in a pile to one side before turning her attention back onto him. Then she did the most incredibly foolish thing.

  She walked up to him, put a hand on his chest and whispered, “Hush.”

  Didn’t she know she should never approach a Vampyre when he was in such a frenzied state?

  He didn’t want to hush. He wanted to tear and rend, and drink the blood of Melly’s would-be attacker until he felt the man’s body crumble to dust in his hands. He bared his fangs and hissed at her.

  She just looked at him. “Now you’re being pissy.” Her voice was gentle as she said it. She patted his chest and raised her hand to his face. Because it was her, he fought to control his impulse to strike at her. As she cupped his cheek, her palm and fingers were warm. “Julian, I really need you to calm down. I’m starving and exhausted, and there are over a hundred ferals that are going to be back at the tunnel gate at any minute, let alone Justine who might show up earlier than she had planned if she decides to go looking for her missing attendant.”

  Her words began to penetrate the killing instincts that had flooded him. He ran his gaze over her. She did look exhausted. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her face was drawn with marks of stress.

  He also noted that the other Vampyre hadn’t been gentle when he had grabbed her. The slender, elegant line of her throat was already turning dark with bruises and swelling. The cut at the side of her neck had broken open again and was bleeding lightly.

  The sight brought him back into himself.

  “I hear you,” he growled. Taking a strong mental grip on his self-control, he forced his fangs to withdraw. “I got it.”

  She searched his gaze, then gave him a small smile and a nod.

  When she pulled her hand away, he missed her touch and grew angry at himself for it. Digging into her pocket, she pulled out two misshapen metal springs and knelt at his feet.

  As she got to work again on the manacles at his ankles, he said, “That’s what you were doing earlier. You were making another set of lock picks.”

  “Yep.” She sounded as tired as she looked. “I told you I wasn’t going to leave you. No matter what you might think of me, or what anybody else might have said, I always keep my promises.”

  He didn’t know what to do with that, so instead of respon
ding, he fell silent and watched her.

  This time after a few minutes of trial and error, there was a snick and the lock fell open. She sat back on her heels and beamed up at him.

  Triumph surged, along with a fierce sense of pride in her. He said in a soft voice, “Will you look at that. You’re going to fucking break us out of jail after all. You are full of wow, lady.”

  “I don’t know about that. I gave my bag of tricks a good shake a few minutes ago, and it’s pretty much empty.” She shifted and bent over the other manacle.

  “That’s all right,” he told her. “If you can get me free, I can take care of the rest.”

  “That’s my plan, soldier.”

  After a few moments, the second lock fell open with a snick. She put a hand at the small of her back as she straightened to look at the manacles overhead. “I know you said I would have to climb up your body, but I’m still not sure how I’m going to do that.”

  She sounded hoarse and listless, and he really didn’t like how she looked. “First, check out what’s in the bag,” he told her. “It’ll be a while before Justine starts to miss Anthony, and it won’t take you more than a minute to take a few bites of food and a drink.”

  After a brief hesitation, she didn’t waste time arguing. He watched in approval as she dug in the bag, pulled out a paper-wrapped sandwich and bolted a few bites. After she sucked down half a bottle of water, she held it to his lips so he could drink the rest.

  While he needed a strong infusion of blood more than a drink of water, the hydration did help him to feel better too. When he had rinsed out his mouth and drank the rest of the bottle, she threw the empty container into the bag, squared her shoulders and turned back to him.

  “Now, climb up on my leg and stand,” he said. Bending one knee, he braced his foot on the inside of his other thigh and held steady for her to perch on him.

  She squinted at his posture. “You can take my whole weight like that?”

  “Yes. Use me to steady yourself.”

  “The strength you undead lot have is something else.” Slipping off her delicate-looking flats, she stepped barefoot onto his thigh and held on to one of his arms as she straightened. Even though she clutched him in a tight grip, she still wobbled on her perch. “This isn’t going to work. I need both hands to pick the locks.”

  “Don’t just hold on to my arm,” he said. “Use my torso as your support. Brace one foot at the top of my thigh and lean against me.”

  After a quick glance down at his expression, she gingerly eased against the length of his body. Their positions were odd and strained, yet the full curves of her body felt so incredibly delicious, he couldn’t resist closing his eyes and turning his face into her warm, narrow abdomen.

  She sucked in a breath and wobbled again, clutching at his shoulder to steady herself.

  The whole maneuver had turned unexpectedly torturous.

  She felt so good, smelled so fucking good. Her top had ridden up, baring her skin to his cheek. He wanted to lick her and bite – not to draw blood, but lightly, in sex play – and he tightened his jaw against the impulse. If he did nip at her, more likely than not, she would lose her balance entirely and fall off her perch, and until he was free, they were in no position to play games.

  Clamping down on his self-control, he gritted, “Can you reach the manacles?”

  “Yes, but they’re too high and they aren’t at the right angle.” Her voice shook.

  She was showing all the signs of being near the end of her rope, and it brought his attention into focus like nothing else could have.

  “You’re doing an amazing job,” he said gently against her soft skin. “I knew they were underestimating you, but not even I could see how much you could accomplish on your own. I want you to hold on tight to me now.”

  “O-okay.” She wrapped an arm around one of his biceps and gripped him by the shoulder again. “Like this?”

  “Yes.” As soon as he felt her weight stabilize, he flexed up as high as he could, gripped the chains and shook his hands so that the manacles slid down his wrists. There wasn’t much give. After only a few inches, they were stopped by the thickness of his muscled forearms. His voice muffled against her, he asked, “Is that enough?”

  “It might be. At least now I can turn the lock toward me.” She twisted at the manacle, and he turned his wrist to help. “That’s it – hold still!”

  Obediently, he froze while she worked.

  The lock snicked open just as she slipped and started to fall. “Oh shit!”

  Shaking his wrist free, he snaked his arm around her and clenched her to him. “It’s all right, sweetheart.” He hefted her up a few more inches, and gods, even just that small freedom, just the ability to put that one arm around her, felt like bliss. “Only one more to go. Now you don’t even need to balance.”

  “Piece of cake, right?” she said breathlessly. “Mmn, what I wouldn’t give for a piece of cake right now.”

  It surprised a chuckle out of him. Never mind all the gourmet foods she had generous access to – she always had been a fiend for chocolate cake made from a box mix, with sour cream frosting.

  “When we get out of here, I’ll bake a cake for you, myself,” he promised. “One with a file in it.”

  Her flat stomach flexed as she snorted. “Now, that I would have to see, although I don’t know about eating any of it. You don’t know the first thing about how to bake a cake, or for that matter, how to bake anything else.”

  “Don’t be too sure,” he murmured. “Baking is just chemistry, and the directions are printed on the box, right? Besides, I watched you do it a couple of times.”

  “Sure you did,” she retorted. “You watched me all of twenty years ago, and you never had a vested interest in the process.”

  She was wrong. He’d had a vested interest in everything she did. What she wore, the way she moved, the things she loved. The times they had spent in the kitchen, as she fixed herself something to eat and he opened a bottle of wine for them to share, were some of his favorite memories of when they had been together.

  He hadn’t let himself think of those times in years, but he did so now, immersing himself in the memories. The way she had thrown back her head to laugh. The time she had teased him into dancing while her pasta water boiled away, forgotten, and the pan had burned.

  After they had put out the small kitchen fire, he had growled, “To hell with it.”

  With one sweep of his arm, he had cleared the kitchen table and lifted her onto it. Laughing, she had lain back, her arms over her head, while he knelt between her legs to feast on her gorgeous, delicate flesh. When he had risen at last to sink his aching erection into her, she had clasped him tight in wholehearted welcome, with her arms and legs, body and soul.

  As he thought of how she had hugged him, his eyes grew damp.

  The last manacle fell from his wrist.

  “There,” she whispered, her breath catching on another sob. “Oh thank God, there.”

  Eight

  F

  inally free, he wrapped both arms around her and sank to his knees, only loosening his hold just enough so that she could slide onto his lap. Then he clenched her against his chest again. Her arms slid around his neck, and she held him just as tightly.

  “I’ve got you, Melisande,” he whispered.

  Her quick, ragged breathing sounded in his ear. “I’ve been so, so scared.”

  “I know. I’ve been scared too.” Without fully being aware of what he did, he sank one fist into the back of her curly, tangled hair and pulled her head back so that he could look deep into her eyes. He whispered, “Jesus, he was going to rape you, and I couldn’t have done anything to prevent it.”

  “Don’t think like that,” she said, as she framed his face between her hands. “It didn’t happen. I didn’t let it happen. But oh God, Julian, when she was cutting you, I went half out of my mind. I thought it would never end – and when she let the ferals into your cell, I was so afraid t
hey were going to kill you.”

  “Stop it.” His voice turned harsh. “It was nothing, and it’s over with now. It’s all done.”

  She opened her eyes very wide. “I. Can’t. Stop. This. And I’m not even going to try. I’ve been promising myself this meltdown for two damn hellish hellish HELLISH days, and nothing’s going to keep me from it now.”

  He stared at her in utter perplexity. She looked terrible. She looked adorable.

  She looked stripped down, totally raw, like she didn’t have a single barrier left between her and the world, and he couldn’t take it any longer.

  He covered her shaking mouth with his, and when he felt the soft curve of her lips move in response to his, it felt so damn good, just as he had remembered it, just as he had always known it would.

  No, it didn’t feel just as he remembered – it felt better. It felt like a vital, necessary part of his life had come back to him. Ravenously he parted her lips with his tongue and conquered the private recesses of her luscious mouth.

  And she kissed him back.

  Her active, eager involvement, the sensation of her tongue colliding with his, set fire to all of his nerve endings. After having been so parched for so many years, he drowned himself in her.

  She gripped him at the back of his head with both hands while she wrapped those long, slender legs around his waist, and in response, he growled low in his throat while his cock swelled to stiff attention, pushing at the restraints of his jeans.

  He needed to lay her down on the floor, spread her legs and feast on her tender, private flesh again. He needed to hear her breath catch and sigh, while she stroked her fingers through his short hair. He needed to bury himself so deeply inside of her, he never truly came back out. He…

  As he framed her face with both hands, he felt something wet slide over his calloused fingers. The sensation jolted his eyes open. She was leaking tears, and the muscles in her arms and legs trembled.