“Are you all right?” The urge to laugh bubbled in her throat, was ruthlessly pushed down, and died somewhere behind her breastbone.If he says yes I’ll probably die of embarrassment.
She was, after all, stark naked.
A deep thrumming slowly intruded on dead-air silence. He was staring at her, andstarvingdidn’t even begin to cover his expression. A faint crackle accompanied ripples sliding through his cheeks, muscles on his jaw flickering.
She might have been overconfident, Simone thought. Just a little.Oh, what the hell.
More courage was necessary to step close to him, to place her palm flat on his shirt. The vibration in his chest slid up her arm—like a massive jungle cat, purring.
Those have fangs too. Oh, Simone, be careful.
“You can have what you want.” Hard not to coo, or flutter her damn eyelashes. She felt ridiculous. “But it has to be howIsay.”Are you really doing this?
He leaned into her touch, gaze fastened on her lips. A heady feeling—this powerful monster, old enough to walk around in sunshine, right at her fingertips. Waiting to be unleashed.
A slight change in his weight, inclining toward the bed, and she understood as if he’d spoken aloud. “No,” she said. “Not on the floor, either. And you’ll need to take your clothes off?—”
Fabric tore. Her bare, still-damp back hit the wall next to the bathroom door, and the fact that the paint was stained with ancient cigarette smoke didn’t matter because his mouth was on hers, a thin thread of copper-taste from his bitten lip stroking the spot in her throat where dormant thirst roused in a sheetof blinding crimson. Lifted and held, the growl rattling into a sonic haze—she wondered for a moment if the neighboring room could hear it through the shimmer—and warm skin sliding against hers, her fingers clutching, full of silken strands as she plunged her hands into his hair. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and her hiss at the sudden heavy, stretching first thrust was lost in the flood of sensation.
Oh hey, this isn’t bad?—
Then there was no time for thought, just clutching and writhing, her body determined to get what it could. He seemed to know which way she’d move, each convulsive move closer to shattering, her clit ruthlessly massaged by that wicked, knowing extra protuberance and the wave building, lightning slamming up her spine to detonate in her head.
This time he waited until her shudders eased, his breath hot against her ear, whispering something she couldn’t hear through the pounding of her heart, her own ragged gasps. And when he tilted his head, guiding her mouth to the pulse beating hard and high in his throat, her fangs sprang free of their own accord, burying in the insistent throbbing.
He held her impaled, pinned to the wall as she fed, shudders passing through them both with each mouthful, each twitch of her sheath clamped tight around him. For a few brief moments Simone didn’t have to think about the meeting, a possible cure, how to keep her balance on the edge of an unpredictable hurricane in vampire form.
It was over far too soon.
CHAPTER 18
A wrenching change of direction,another miracle. The shock left him dizzy, barely able to concentrate, for she had approached him—not quite fearless, yet bravely, a shepherdess taming a snarling lion. She had beenwilling, and not only that, but afterward, soft and languid with the double opiate of release and his blood filling her veins, she looked over his small offerings and pronounced themnot bad, I guess you know how to shoplift for quality.
Pointing out that he had paid for each item brought a long, solemn appraisal, her beautiful forest-eyes dancing, the corners of her mouth trembling slightly, suppressing a smile. He watched, uncertain of just what to do with his hands, his voice, his very self as she packed the suitcase with swift dancing movements, and his remark that he had acquired another car gained another lingering look.
She kept glancing at the red numbers of the clock wired to the nightstand, a thread of nervousness appearing in the spicy gorgeousness of her scent. Each time she also looked at the door or the walls, where the seals held firm. A rare, wondrous bird, weighing whether to batter itself against the cage.
Jonathan knew her apparent willingness was likely a bid to establish some manner of control, perhaps the beginning of a more complex attempt at escaping his presence and protection. Whatever this ‘meet’ consisted of, its import to his leman was clear—and high indeed.
“There’s plenty of time.” He was gaining facility with the speech of this era—not least from listening to the telly-vision’s endless flow of chatter, information, exhortation, enticement. “I will accompany you to thismeet, and once you have what you wish, we will?—”
“You aren’t part of the deal.” She fastened the suitcase with swift grace and straightened; the bed now stood drifted with bags and discarded packaging. “It’ll only take an hour. We can rendezvous somewhere when it’s finished.”
He could easily keep her trammeled until well after the proposed time, though this filthy little room was increasingly unappetizing. Moving a somnolent fledgling during daylight was reasonably easy, with a few elementary precautions. By dawn tomorrow they could be in another city; she would wake under seals, and no matter her protests the pattern could continue nearly indefinitely.
She did not belong in this rundown hostel reeking of desperation, smoke, cheap burnt food. A leman was to be kept in comfort; she belonged behind pierce-carved porphyry screens, lounging upon silken pillows, cosseted with gifts and fed to repletion, her every whim indulged and delight procured. To think of her moving in patterned moonlight, her hair swaying, long legs and softly curved belly overlaid with delicate shadows, was at once a pleasure and a torment.
If he spirited her away in that manner, how long would it take before she approached him of her own will again? A few centuries, half a millennia?
Never?
Though she had packed the offerings neatly, she chose to wear her own rumpled clothes. Well-fed, her eyes bright, she was still uncertain, nearly flinching when he made a restless movement. She was so new to the Blood, having little idea of a leman’s pricelessness or place, and he wished there were other sanguinant to ask of such things while understanding quite well why there were not. Why there could never be.
Even the whispered proverbs were of limited aid. He was forced into the uncharted territory ofthisleman, the deeply reluctant sum of every dream or desire he would ever have.
“If there are other sanguinant present—” he began, hoping against hope she would be willing to listen.
“There’d betternotbe.” Her hands settled on beautifully rounded hips clasped in worn denim; the trousers clung lovingly to long, lithe legs. “It’s just humans, okay? And I can handle a few of those for an hour. Once it’s done, maybe we can meet back here? I’m gonna need a place to sleep.”