Blacker than Black (37 page)

Energy slams into me with the force of a howling winter gale and even less finesse. I gasp, breath escaping my lungs in a whoosh, and Leonard’s arms twine under and around me as the spasm of his orgasm and the flood of energy continue unabated.

“I can’t . . . stop it,” he grunts, arms clenching tight with a strength that shocks me.

Wave after wave of chi surges into me, searing my skin, buoying my orgasm and drawing it out further and further and on and on until it overwhelms my senses.

Then darkness takes over, nothingness blacker than black.

Smooth heat radiates into me from everywhere at once. The familiarity of the sensation is relaxing, soothing away any trace of alarm. I take a deep breath, the weight atop me creating an uncomfortable, yet welcome, resistance. Limbs tangled with mine. I curl my fingers into the soft silk of hair, buried deep and cradling Leonard’s head where it rests on my chest. It feels like there’s nothing but cotton between my ears. Sandpaper shrouding my eyes instead of eyelids.

I smell dragon’s blood and . . . well, sex. And that unique tang that tingles the nose after a large transaction of energy. Like gunpowder at a firing range. Didn’t hang around long enough to catch a whiff of it when he stripped that other
lyche
.

Gaia save me from myself. Leonard just thoroughly fucked my brains out. Or . . . should it be the other way around? Probably best to classify it a mutual thing and leave it at that. My body heats at the memory, nerves tingling. I look down at him, breathing softly, each exhale stirring across my skin, warm and moist. Mixed feelings surge through me, tenderness and a thread of horror. I don’t want my emotions tangled up in this mess. But it’s already too late.

Too late for many things. Details are vague, blurred by the energy craze I got caught up in. But he and I, we have a few things to talk about. Later. I drape my free arm over his back, feeling the combination of the heat in his skin, the satiated calm of his aura. He moves, mumbles a few wordless sounds, his arms tightening their embrace a fraction.

Despite the layers of shadow blanketing the room, the black light highlights whorls of paint decorating the spaces between the heavy rafter beams in the ceiling. Abstract strokes and splashes in variegated shades of gray, contrasting, blending, melting from one hazy suggestion of shape to another.

The length of Leonard’s body twitches. He shifts his cheek against my skin. I look down at him again to find half-hooded eyes studying me.

“I’m sorry about that.” His voice is a rasp against my ears. I watch the curve of his throat move as he swallows. “I lost control of it. The energy.”

“How long have I been out?” All I recall is everything fading away.

He curls his mouth into a smile. “I don’t know.” His brow furrows. “I think I passed out when you did.”

I trail a fingertip along his lips. He shifts against me, and the sensation of warm skin is so intimate, so tactile, so casually executed, that heat floods through me all over again. The yearning is every bit as strong as it was before. I want to roll him over and slide inside him. Pin him down and fuck him senseless. And then let him return the favor.

Leonard slides his hand up my side, over my chest, a languid, deliberate journey to my face. His fingertips play over my lips, mirroring me. His face is mere inches from mine, gaze sharp, intense.

“You didn’t seem very surprised.”

“By what.” Purposeful evasion. I know exactly what he’s referring to. Wasn’t a virgin before I came in here with him—far from it. No, I’m not a professional whore, not like that, but I’ve definitely had a few—botched—attempts at relationships. I watch his eyes flick back and forth, studying my expression, trying to read me.

“Humans usually register some level of reaction or negative response when . . . confronted with the true nature of a
lyche
the first time.” He furrows his brow, his expression so utterly serious and formal it makes my throat tickle with the urge to laugh.

I shrug my shoulders, enjoying the slick feel of the sheets against my back. It’s difficult to believe he didn’t notice anything unusual about my physiology—but then, to describe both of us as thoroughly distracted would be an understatement. “I’m not human. You said so yourself.
Mutt
. Right?”

It’s nice to think I’d fit in so easily, even if he hasn’t yet grasped just how well I would. More than nice, actually, since it’s the one thing that’s eluded me thus far in my life. It’s what I’ve always wanted. Is it truly acceptance he’s dangling just within my reach, and what’s his ulterior motive? Everyone—but a
lyche
especially—always has one.

But he didn’t seem to have any, aside from the need to flood my body with his excess energy. Perhaps that’s all this was to him. Necessity and nothing more. It felt like more to me. But maybe that’s because I want it to be something more.

His features relax, tension bleeding from his body to rest heavily against mine. “Maybe.” I can almost see the gears turning in his brain. “Depends on what you mean by that.”

Maybe I really
did
fuck his brains out?

I can’t even begin to figure out how to frame an explanation that involves words. Rolling my head to the side, staring off across the room at nothing, is easier. “What I mean is . . . I know the difference between fucking a woman and fucking a man.” I trail my fingers down his side, and shift my gaze back to meet his when his body tightens against mine. I have to swallow a few times to loosen my throat enough to get the rest of the words out. “Never fucked a
lyche
before, but if I had, maybe I would’ve realized before now that I’m more
lyche
than human.”

He stares at me, entire body still, unmoving. I think he might even be holding his breath, or something. I wonder if his heart’s stopped beating, too.

Dark rooms and overwhelming lust have certain advantages. Less exploration. Easier to keep secrets. My heart is suddenly hammering against my ribcage, painfully, a prisoner pounding futilely on the walls of its cell. I attempt to disentangle from him, to get out of the bed, find my clothes, gripped by the overwhelming need to escape. I’ve had this conversation with others before. Many a time. It’s never gone well.

“Black, wait.” He doesn’t restrain me, shifting away to avoid my thrashing limbs, but his hand on my thigh anchors me. Aura swelling to encircle, embrace, unencumbered. I couldn’t keep him out if I tried. And Gaia, the feel of his energy laced with mine is heady. It soothes away the panic, the sickly hues in my aura, with a calm like nothing I’ve ever known. I hesitate, taking a deep breath before turning to look at him. “You mean . . .” He shakes his head, grip tightening on my thigh. “Come back here.”

He pushes himself up off the bed, leveraging his weight between the anchoring grip on my leg and his hand splayed in the tangle of bed sheets, until he’s close enough for me to feel his gentle exhale against my cheek. Hand on his neck, I angle my head and brush my lips over his, close my eyes and thread my aura through his. Not the conversation I intended to have at all, but the unrestricted welcome he gives, so utterly open, without the faintest hint of resistance, leaves me in awe.

Leonard’s hand moves from my thigh, and he grabs me, rolling back down into the bed with me sprawled atop him. His expression is calm, open, when I brace my arms by his shoulders and look down at him. The feel of his skin against mine, our auras tangled, translucent hues of blue and purple and veins of yellow swirling along the periphery of my vision, is more soothing and welcoming than sexual. Without the tension of the energy imbalance, the sympathy resonates between us in a muted thrum, synchronicity that makes him feel like an extension of me.

He rolls his hips against mine, fingers digging into my back. Not foreplay, just a simplistic awareness, acknowledgement. Acceptance. “All
lyche
are hermaphrodites.” He studies me, as if braced to gauge my reaction, to absorb a violent outburst. “Your sire was. And yes, it makes you more
lyche
than human.” He slides a palm up the length of my spine, pulling me down against him, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “Which explains a great deal about your long-standing prowess as a chi-thief, and this . . . aural sympathy between us.”

I arch my brows in disbelief, struggling to focus on his words past the tactile sensation of his body, perfectly aligned with mine.

“It also presents a number of issues.” His grip tightens on me fractionally, and hooks a calf behind my knee, locking me against him.

“Does it.” I deliver the non-question deadpan and gyrate my hips, hooding my eyes at the feel of friction. At the pulse of arousal that answers, from his aura and his body. Not in the mood for
issues
.

Leonard’s yellow eyes become slivers, and his fingers dig into my ass. “Does what?”

The laughter slips out of me, and I rest my forehead against his shoulder for a moment before giving up and collapsing onto him.

His hands wander over my skin in languid, aimless circles, then his chest lifts me on a deep inhale. “Nice distraction technique you have there.”

I hum a noncommittal response. Much as I’d prefer to avoid it, he’s right. The issues will still be there, and they’re not about to go away. He has answers, too, for the questions that have plagued me for much of my life.

The ones my father should have been there to answer.

Lifting my head again finally, I study his face. Still calm, with that edge of inquisitiveness, and the residual heat of arousal flashing in his eyes. I shift off him, onto my side, propping myself up on an elbow so I can watch him. “You know what’s going on then.”

“I . . .” Leonard hesitates, and I watch his throat convulse as he swallows. His features contort into a grimace for a brief, fleeting second, and then he rolls out of the bed in one swift movement. He stands there, unmoving, for the space of a heartbeat, before looking back over his shoulder. Not quite meeting my gaze. “I’ve not told you everything. I don’t pretend to know all the details. But we need to discuss a few things.”

“Okay.” I swing my legs off the bed and gather my scattered clothes off the floor. The lighting isn’t any better than it was, but my eyes have adjusted and it’s not difficult at all. My hands are shaking though, and the adrenaline is thick in my blood just like it was that first evening. When I was shoved through the door into his suite in the aftermath and discovered who my easy-on-the-eyes john had actually been. “I imagine we should include my sister in this discussion as well.”

He pauses in the process of snapping a fresh shirt up over his shoulders, and stares at the wall. A statue, frozen in time. His profile is beautiful, sharp even in the lack of lighting. The features startling in their definition, and I find myself weighing the feminine shape of his lips against the masculine line of his jaw. Cheekbones against brow. Nose against chin. The balance of gender is odd. Fascinating, now that I understand the reason.

“Yes.” His voice is neutral, smooth. “That would be best.” He glances up from working the buttons on his shirt. “She’d find out anyway, would she not?”

What, that we’re more
lyche
than human? Gaia, does he think I would really withhold that information from her? “She would. I hold few secrets from my sister.” Even fewer when she’s the only ally to speak of in a hostile work environment. Knowledge is power.

Damn shame I didn’t manage to get a repeat performance before Leonard’s brain reengaged, though. Gaia, that was the hottest experience in my life, and something tells me once just isn’t going to be enough for me.

Leonard pushes into the main office without knocking. I follow in his wake, impatient, agitation increasing by the second. Totally prepared to holler my sibling out of bed, I draw a breath. Only to let it out in a long gusty sigh when Leonard steps to the side and glances back at me. Jhez is still sitting at the desk where we left her. The passage of time is apparent in the abandoned room service trays, the detailed charts adhered precariously to the wall behind her, side by side with a few of the
lyche’s
originals. I wonder if she used acid-free tape.