Dark Angel's Ward (13 page)

I frowned and shook my head, not that he could see me. "The longer you wait, the more likely that becomes."

"No, Jandra. It is more a want than a need at this moment. I will come to you later, when we both are calmer. Try to get some rest."

"Zeph...I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen." My tears spilled over now, hot as acid on my cheeks. "I don't even know how to take care of you anymore."

I felt a pulse of warmth from him--the telepathic equivalent of a smile, perhaps. "
It is enough to know you don't despise me."

With that, he withdrew from me again as he had earlier. My head seemed vast and echoingly empty without his presence, my own thoughts barely enough to fill one corner.

"Shit," I muttered aloud, sitting up now that I was free of his compulsion. It took a few more minutes' effort to get my legs underneath me and stagger toward the bathroom. Still, my knees trembled wildly, threatening to fail me at any moment.

As I cleared the doorway, I grabbed the edge of the sink basin to steady myself. It had become all too familiar a pose of late. With that thought, I reached up and opened the door of the medicine cabinet, swinging its mirrored front to lie flat against the wall. I had no desire to see my eyes.

Fourteen

Strings. A mischievous plucking of violins, followed by the doleful tones of viola and cello. A plaintive song, yet haunting, compelling. I followed along with the tune, my lips parting to join my voice to the singer's, but the vocals didn't come in where they were should have.

Blinking, I brought my head up. Two rows of prescription bottles sat on narrow glass shelves in front of me. All of them bore my name, most still half full or more--they hadn't done very much to help me. Obviously not, since I'd fallen asleep standing up in the bathroom. Not exactly the act of a sane person.

With a grimace, I shut the medicine cabinet and reached over to turn off the light. Still feeling drunk from the glut of energy I'd consumed, I turned and staggered toward the door. A soft, flickering light came from the bedroom. Fire? Startled, I rushed in, half falling through the partially open door.

I stumbled to a stop as I caught sight of the dark figure lounging on my bed. He held a silver candlestick between long, elegant fingers. "I'm sorry." Dream Man flashed me an unrepentant smile. "Did I frighten you?"

"I thought the house was burning!" I gasped, squinting in the dancing light. It seemed far too bright for the one little flame.

"No, no." He brought the candle to his lips and blew it out. The music stopped at the same instant, without him having touched the CD player. I sighed in relief. That small impossibility seemed confirmation enough that none of this was real.

"Why did you mess up the song?" I asked plaintively. "I love that song."

Chuckling, Dreamy rolled onto his side, facing me in the patch of moonlight streaming in the window. "Is music what's really on your mind?"

"Well, no." I tottered across the room and sat on the edge of the bed. "What I really want to know is why you're here again."

"I come at your will."

"Really." I gave him the best glare I could muster. "And how is it you know what I want, when I barely even know where I am?"

"Oh, dear heart." A warm hand crept up my back. "Are you
that
frustrated?"

I shrugged him off with a sharp jerk. "Stop it."

He sank back compliantly, grinning at me. "Don't you want to be touched?"

"Stop telling me what I want!"

"But I'm a figment of your subconscious, aren't I?" He shifted onto hands and knees, crawling across the mattress with the grace of a stalking panther. "In that case, shouldn't I know
everything
you want? Even the things you try to deny?"

I turned on him. "All right, smartass, you know me so well? Then tell me what I'm thinking right now."

He stopped mere inches away from me. "You're burning inside," he replied in a low murmur. "You have so much to give, and all you want is someone to share it with. All you want--" he leaned close and whispered in my ear-- "is for someone to kiss you."

"Who are you?" I demanded.

I can't say what made me ask. Dreamy looked surprised at the question, too. He sat back on his heels and studied me. "You really don't know?"

"No. I don't know anything anymore."

He pressed forward again, undaunted. "I'm yours," he purred. "What will you do with me?"

Before I could answer, his lips crushed against mine, hard and demanding, and damn if it didn't feel good. His warmth went right through me, finding and easing the ache Zeph's abrupt exit had left in the center of my chest. I tried to draw back a little, to soften the kiss, but his hand clamped onto the nape of my neck and held me in place.

He leaned back at his leisure, raising hooded eyes to meet mine. "This is what you want."

"No."

"You want to be taken." He bowled me over onto my back. His body stretched above mine, taut and lean. "You want to be held down and ravished to the core of your soul."

"No!" I gasped again, though my breath came fast from excitement as much as fear. Because he was exactly right. This was what I'd wanted from Zeph--his power, his strength. I'd wanted him to overwhelm me completely, so I could lose myself in him. The very same reason I claimed to hate him, and yet after a mere two days together I'd been begging for it all over again. Shit.

Dreamy seemed to take up the thread of my thoughts, his aggressive posture relaxing. "Life is so very complicated, isn't it? What to do, whom to trust. It's never safe."

"That's what I want," I murmured, meeting his gaze. "I want to feel safe."

He traced the seam of my lips with a fingertip before pressing them with a gentle kiss. "What is there to fear in your dreams?" he asked.

The line sounded familiar. I gave him the same answer I'd given before. "I'm not afraid of anything."

A knowing smile danced across his lips. "Then nothing we do is a sin."

A laugh rose in my throat at the irony, but his mouth covered mine again before I could react. He lay fully atop me, his hips trapping my legs, my breasts flattened against his chest. He caught my wrists in his hands and pinned them down just as Zeph had earlier. I couldn't suppress a moan at the secret thrill of it.

"This is what you want." He growled the words against my lips.

"Yes," I breathed.

He gave a grunt of satisfaction. His lips strayed down to my neck, forcing my head back with the pressure of his kisses. I writhed beneath him, though I knew I'd never escape. When I finally did manage to free my left leg, I wrapped it around his butt and spurred him onward. Laughing, he began to drive his hips against mine, a promise of things to come.

I nearly lost it right there, but Dreamy wasn't finished yet. He released my left hand to catch my chin and twist my head to one side. His lips bruised the tender flesh. He suckled hard, drawing blood to the surface of the skin in a heated rush. I let out a shrill gasp, arching so hard I nearly lifted us both.

He pressed me down again. "Be a good girl," he rumbled in my ear, "and I'll give you exactly what you want."

"Oh yeah?" I gripped his shoulder with my free hand, digging my nails in deep. "And what if I'm a bad girl?"

"Hmm. Even better."

He lowered his head again, now feathering gentle kisses over my inflamed skin. Moaning, I raked my nails down the length of his back. His body tensed and he bucked his hips once more. His lips parted, teeth scraping along my throat. "Yes!" I gasped. "Yes! Oh, please...!"

"This is what you want?" It was a question this time, his soft whisper cooling my damp skin and covered me in goose bumps.

"Yes!" I shouted it.

"Then close your eyes," he ordered.

Eagerly, I obeyed. Once deprived of my sight, the sensation of his touch seemed all the more vivid. He transferred his other hand to my shoulder, bone grinding against bone as he restrained me. He set his teeth against my skin, biting down....

"Yes!"

"Jandra?"

The shout came from the hallway, and it jarred me out of my haze of ecstasy. Dreamy cursed and disappeared. "Wait!" I gasped, sitting up. The sudden cold of the darkened bedroom chilled me to the bone.

Zeph stood in the doorway, his eyes wide with alarm. "You were screaming."

"Oh...no." I panted the words as I struggled to calm my fevered body, but it was already too late. His eyes began to blaze as he sensed my arousal, then slowly dimmed again as his pupils dilated to swallow the irises. His lips parted soundlessly.

"No, Zeph." I scrambled back against the headboard, holding out a hand to dissuade him. "Go back upstairs. Now!"

"I hunger," he groaned, lurching toward the foot of the bed as if pulled by puppet strings.

"You didn't want it to happen this way," I reminded him frantically.

Unfortunately, I
had
wanted it, so badly that I'd conjured it in my own head. Thanks to my vivid imagination, I was even more turned on now than I'd been earlier. He stared fixedly at my neck, as if he had been the one kissing and licking and....

"Jandra." The word came in a savage growl.

"Control, Zeph. You need control!"

He shook visibly, perhaps trying to resist. "Come to me," he commanded in that same guttural tone. I realized then that he was fighting the urge to compel my obedience with his voice. He was giving me a choice--and probably giving himself one hell of a sore throat in the process. I also realized that if I truly wanted to stop this, I'd be on my feet and running, trusting him to let me pass safely.

I didn't run. I can't really explain why, not in any way that makes sense. Surely his need factored in somewhere, not to mention the fact that he'd only grow more and more unstable the longer I delayed his feeding.

But more than that, hearing him speak in that gravelly voice had touched some hardened scar in my heart. For once, despite his own pain, he'd
trusted
me to care for him, rather than expecting and demanding it. So I forced myself to relax, to trust him in turn. "You come to me. It's all right."

"Jandra...?" His eyes framed the question he couldn't force out through his constricted throat.

I met his gaze squarely. "It's all right," I repeated. "I'm not afraid."

He squared his quaking shoulders. "You lie. But...thank you."

Given permission, he wasted no time. He was upon me with the speed of a striking snake, knocking me flat and breathless. He paused for just an instant with his mouth above my throat. I almost expected him to ask in a whisper if this was what I wanted, but he didn't. He bit. Decisively.

I screamed--I couldn't help it. Thankfully, though, the pain lasted only briefly. Not that his teeth were particularly sharp, as countless legends had grown to suggest. They tore and bruised my skin. But then his warm lips touched me, and his tongue soothed the wound. He stroked his hands over my shoulders in a silent gesture of apology.

"I'm all right," I said through my teeth. "Just don't hesitate. It hurts more that way."

He exhaled in a rush, seemingly reassured. His lips fastened around the wound he had made. As he began to drink, the sharp sting of torn flesh mingled with the tender pressure of his mouth--that terrible blend of pleasure-pain I so craved. I moaned and clutched at the back of his head, threading my fingers through his hair.

He came alive as the urgency of his hunger began to ease. His hands roved over my body, stroking every sensitive spot he could reach. And I could feel my body responding as it always had--warming, loosening. Soon I'd be clay in his hands.

"Zeph," I gasped.

He raised his head to look at me, lips stained bright with my blood. "Do you want me?"

I scoffed at the question. "Since when do you ask?"

"I'm asking now."

He was, wasn't he? Once again, he'd presented me with a choice where I wasn't accustomed to choice existing. I wondered suddenly just how far I could take this. I fell back with a sigh, feeling the tense reaction in his muscles. But instead of saying yes, I said, "No. I told you no."

"Very well," he breathed. After a long moment, he returned his mouth to my throat.

I couldn't help asking, "You're really going to take 'no' for an answer?"

He just grunted in response. His hands found my hips, but rather than stroking, he rested them there quite chastely. Why did I find that frustrating beyond belief? "Zeph...."

"Jandra." His breath tickled my raw skin. I shuddered at the sensation. He groaned and slid his arms under the small of my back, clutching me tightly against him.
Now,
I thought. Now he'd lose his composure and take me whether I liked it or not. It caught me completely off guard when he merely rolled us over.

"There," he said softly, gazing up at me. "Now you're in control."

I clutched at his shoulders as a wave of dizziness rolled over me. "What?"

"I said, you're in control. When you want me to stop, you have but to stand and walk away."

"The hell you say, this is my bed. I'm not leaving."

"Then I will. It makes no difference." He leaned up to lick away the blood that had welled out of the wound while we'd been talking. I could feel a sticky trail of it running down my throat, soaking into the collar of my best blouse.

"Damn it, I've got to clean up," I muttered, scowling at his expectant look. "What? What do you want?"

"You," he replied.

"So? What are you waiting for?"

"You."

I sighed. Zeph lay quietly underneath me, unflinching even as blood began to drip and spatter his chin and chest. So he wanted permission, and wouldn't do anything until he got it, huh? Grudgingly, I asked, "You haven't taken enough yet, have you?"

"I'm no longer in pain."

"But you're not sated, and you need to be. Otherwise we'll be doing this all over again in a day or two." When he still didn't move, I growled, "Go on, damn it."

He smiled almost shyly as he drew me down to his mouth, one hand cupping the nape of my neck. His lips grazed my cheek as he spoke. "Thank you, Jandra."