Counselor of the Damned (12 page)

He gave her a flat stare. “But I do worry. Tell me.”

She suppressed a crazy urge to collapse into his arms and sulk. She waved her hand. “My boss found out I’ve been ordering the blood packs.”

“I don’t want you to be in trouble because of me. What will she do?”

“Nothing. She went off on me and told me not to do it again.”

“Tegonni—”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Yes, because you will not be putting yourself at risk for me anymore. No more blood substitute.”

“Actually, that’s why I wanted to see you. I’ve found another way.” She paused, still not sure how to sell satanic-miasma-tainted food. “I think you can feed without compelling.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Really. I found out from a client that a touch of miasma blocks the narcotic effects of vampire venom. I’m sure—”

“Do you think I would feed off those touched by demons?” He studied her. “I’m surprised you would make the suggestion.”

Tegonni dropped her head. The whole idea was over the line, but… “I know it’s not ideal, but feeding on a human donor without compelling them would solve your problem.”

He pushed away from the column. “If such an option could solve my dilemma, I would choose someone touched by Heaven. Not by the darkness I wish to escape from.”

She whipped her head up. “What are you saying?”

He waved a hand. “Lephiri magic is a more effective bane to our venom than that of demons. Lightworkers who channel it are also immune.”

She gaped.

Fernando ranted on about “foolish children playing with demonic forces they didn’t understand” as she stood there, raising her clenched fists to her hips. He’d known about this the whole time and was only now mentioning it?

She stormed toward him, and stopped just inches away. “What the hell, Fernando?”

He gave her a look of confusion.

“While I’ve been agonizing over ways to help you, and you’ve been all”—she deepened her voice and affected a tone of tortured nobility—“‘I have to die, it’s the only way,’ you’ve know that wasn’t true! You lied to me.”

He looked stunned. Then guilty. “Yes. I’m sorry, but I didn’t want you wasting your time and hopes on an impractical option.”

“Impractical? We need to explore
every
option. I care about you! And you’re just willing to die? How do you think that makes me feel?” Tegonni’s throat tightened. She wanted to scream, rail against her uselessness. She didn’t know how to change his mind or convince him to help himself. They stared at each other for several long moments.

Fernando placed his hands on her shoulders, his touch light. “I am sorry. You know I don’t wish to cause you pain. But listen to what you’re suggesting. That I feed off a Lightworker. Even without enthrallment, that strikes me as…sacrilegious.”

She deflated a little. Part of her agreed with him. But another part was willing to jump on the technicality Matanji had offered. Enthrallment was the issue, not the feeding. “If the Lephiri are willing to accept it, I think we can. And Thursday night you said you didn’t find it abhorrent.”

His guilty expression returned. “That was an accident.”

“And all that seductive baiting after?”

“I admit I expected a much different reaction.” He dipped his mouth toward hers.

Her eyelids fluttered, and she had no thought to stop him.

His lips brushed hers. Then he released her and took a few steps away. His shoulders were rigid as he stood looking at the high ceiling.

Get it together, girl. Focus.

He turned back to her. “It is not a solution. Even without the ability to compel, feeding is not a sinless act.”

“Fernando, stop painting yourself as some sort of serial killer. If your donor is willing and you don’t take their free will, where’s the evil?”

“Naive. Free will and blood are not the only things taken when a vampire feeds. Besides, the bloodlust is nothing a truly devout man should ever allow to boil inside him.”

Bloodlust?
Tensing, she banished the image of the bloodied Father Morgan from her vision. “Are you saying you’re worried about losing control?”

“For some, if they don’t feed and allow the craving for blood to get out of control…” He shook his head. “No, such an extreme case is not to what I’m referring.” He leaned forward, closing the distance between them to a bare inch. “It is the everyday pull to the sweet essence of human blood. The warm glow that heats a vampire’s soulless body, and the overpowering desire to be as close to the source as physically possible.”

She swallowed hard, and his gaze traveled from her eyes to her throat.

Her pulse picked up tempo. She remembered Caden’s comment about feeding his vampire girlfriend being like sharing souls. What would that experience be like with Fernando? She asked, “Is it sexual? Sex isn’t a sin. In the garden, you must have realized that I—”

“Yes, I know you want my bite. At least your body does. Though perhaps that is a result of my seductive magic. Do you not believe the desire is wrong? Feeding is wrong? That is the reason you ran away, is it not?”

He couldn’t really believe that. “No, Fernando, that’s not why I left. And you know my wanting you has nothing to do with vampire powers.”

He stepped closer. “Why did you run?”

“I, ah—I wasn’t…”

“The truth please.”

Her mouth worked, but the truth wouldn’t come out.

“Then let me tell you why,” he said. “You realized what I know to be true. I am evil. Admit it. Your quest to save me is hopeless.”

“Don’t tell me what I believe. I don’t believe anything about you is evil. However, my superiors aren’t so certain, and I could lose more than my position for helping you. So forgive me if the thought of building a relationship beyond that is daunting.”

And there it was. The truth she hadn’t admitted to herself. It wasn’t about the boundaries she’d crossed, or him being a vampire, or even the blood drinking. She was terrified of what Jaime would do to her if she started dating a vampire. Matanji had her back as long as he was just a case, but even the Lephiri would have something to say about a Lightworker hooking up with hellspawn. Some tension eased from his face, and he gave a small smile. “Now that, I believe. Thank you for being honest.”

She ducked her head, wondering how to redirect the conversation.

“Unfortunately, you are wrong about the feeding. Even without compelling—”

“My dad’s
houngan
—priest—sacrifices animals.” Her bizarre interjection worked.

Fernando watched her, brows creased.

She continued in a neutral voice. “He blesses them, dedicates their life forces to the deity he’s working with, then slits their throats. The blood is collected in a bowl and sometimes drunk by those possessed by the
loa
, the deities.”

He flinched and looked at her with an expression caught between disgust and confusion.

Good
. She wanted him to disapprove. Her point would be all the clearer. “Many people feel the same way, but the Lephiri don’t. They know the houngan slaughters the animals humanely and with respect, with reverence even, before preparing them for community meals, which are often shared with the poor. A scenario no worse than any person walking into a store and buying meat. It’s a different viewpoint, but still valid.”

Confusion won out on his face. “I believed they used the life force for their own ends. I didn’t know they ate the animals. The intent makes a difference.”

“Yes.” She leaned toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “And your intent when you feed… It makes all the difference.”

He looked down at her, his breath feathering over her cheek. She hadn’t realized she’d moved so close. Only an inch or two away.
I’m such a hypocrite
. She’d just told him why she couldn’t get involved, and here she was again in his arms. She couldn’t find the willpower to move away.

She held his arm over the creamy silk. Her fingers twitched with her desire to stroke the expanse of honey skin bared by the unbuttoned top of his shirt. She licked her bottom lip, and his gaze zeroed in on the movement. He lowered his hands down to her waist. His head dipped closer, and her breath caught. He stopped and pulled away again, though he now had a sparkle of hope in his eyes. A weight lifted off her shoulders.

“My intent makes a difference. You really believe that’s true?”

She smiled, attempting to radiate confidence and encouragement. “I do.”

He brushed her bottom lip with a gentle finger. “Then you’re a fool.” His voice was soft as he stroked a path along her cheek. His words were difficult to concentrate on with him so close, his cool fingers leaving tingles on her skin in their wake.

“Why?” she asked, voice husky.

“Because the bloodlust won’t allow for
sacred
intentions,” he said against her lips, before his mouth closed over hers, rough and demanding. She sank into him. Unbidden, her hand came up and slid into his shirt. She stroked his bare skin. He felt cool, toned, and smooth. When her fingertip brushed against his nipple, eliciting from him a silky moan, she forgot all about theories and intentions.

He encircled her with his arms. One palm caressed her back, while the other hand pulled at her twisted hair. The curls sprang free, and his fingers threaded through them. He leaned into her, and took possession of her mouth with a deep kiss. The soft tip of his tongue delved deep to stroke over hers.

Her breath quickened as he explored her body with his hands. He traced lightly up her neck and made little circles behind her ear before trailing down again. Tegonni’s skin tingled with the subtle sensation. He toyed with the buttons on her blouse before unfastening them.

He kissed a trail down her throat and sucked at the flesh where shoulder met neck. She jumped and groaned at the same time. Adrenaline flooded her heart as dampness flooded her panties. She thought he was going to bite and dug nails into his chest in apprehension and eagerness. He chuckled, a low sound that made her quiver.

He pulled away, lips lusciously wet. “Someone’s coming,” he said. Her brain had hardly registered the information when Fernando swept her up and carried her off to a side door.

When he set her down, his lips claimed hers again as he backed her into a room. Or rather, a closet as the space was very small. She heard the door click as he shut it, cutting off all but the dimmest of light. His eyes held a silvery incandescence with his amber shining behind. His power was upon him. Her breath caught. He was unsettling, but beautiful.

“Shall I stop?”

Even like this she didn’t fear him. She went with her desire. “No.”

“Tell me when you change your mind.” He seemed certain that she would.

His magic prickled deliciously along her skin. Then it sank into her and touched her soul. She flinched, and panic pushed against the pleasant tingle of his magic. The caress on her soul was unexpected and a bit disturbing. Hellspawn and human souls rarely made a happy combination. But this was Fernando. She resisted rising doubt. “Fernando?”

“I won’t hurt you.”

She was herself, her spirit intact. As his essence filled her, it drew energy from her and brightened. Yet she didn’t feel drained. She was the sun, and Fernando basked in her light. Her fear eased, though she realized the truth. “The human soul is what really sustains vampires.”

“Tell me to stop.” His tone was plaintive.

She wasn’t wrong about him. “I trust you. Don’t stop.”

He pushed her against the wall and ravished her neck, but with lips, not fangs. He sucked at her tender flesh, moving down as his hands pulled at one cup of her bra and exposed her breast. He bathed her nipple with his tongue, then sucked as much of the breast into his mouth as he could. A spark of pleasure shot through her, and Tegonni groaned.

The clack of shoes on tile sounded near the door. She startled and tried to control her heavy breathing. Fernando wasn’t helping. He pulled her leg over his hip. Pressing against her, he rubbed the bulge of his erection between her legs. Even with their slacks—and her wet panties—between them, her clit pulsed on contact. He continued to grind until pressure built low in her belly. She couldn’t hold back a soft moan.

The footsteps outside paused. “Hello?” Father Morgan.

Flushing with embarrassment, she smothered her gasps against Fernando’s chest. The cruel man had not stilled his hips at the sound of the father’s voice. After a moment, the priest moved away, and Tegonni exhaled, leaning her head back against the wall as she continued to quiver with aftershocks.

Dim light shined in a latticework pattern across Fernando’s smirking face, and she realized where they were.

One of the confessionals.

Holy crap!

Embarrassment claimed her as she came back to her senses. This wanton display posed only a small problem for her spiritual sensibilities. One of many things she’d gained from earth religions was a healthy view of sexuality. Also, the Lephiri, not in the habit of spying, and not having a human view of sin and punishment, wouldn’t be offended. They didn’t work that way. However, Father Morgan and his parishioners might feel differently.

She gave Fernando a frown. He had to see such behavior as being abominably sinful. She set her clothes to rights. “How could you do that in here?”

His poker face cracked a bit. Then she understood. This was part of his bid to show her what a horrible, sinful vampire he was.

She pushed against him, trying to get past. “This is ridiculous. You can’t escape being a good person any more than you can escape being a bloodborn vampire.” His chest was like a brick wall. “Move. We owe Father Morgan an apology.”

His hand, which had caressed moments before, turned into a fist, clutching her jaw. Dull fingernails dug into the meat of her cheeks as he snarled in her face. Light glinted off his bared fangs. “You are too trusting. I could drain you dry right now. You are helpless to stop me.”

Pulse leaping in her throat, Tegonni stared at him with what she hoped were calm eyes as she fought an inner battle with her panic. Every survival instinct told her she was about to die.
Jaime was right. I never should have trusted him!