Deep Deliverance: The Deep Series, Book 3 (11 page)

“She’s right though. Might as well get it over with. I mean, he’s not going to leave me some kind of curse that can backfire on his children, right?”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, if I were you,” said Donte.

“Whatever. I’m opening it.” Adin tore through the brown paper wrapping. Inside that there was a thickly padded manila envelope. He tore it open and found a cheap greeting card inside. “For Adin,” he read, “You seem exactly the type to enjoy this sort of thing.”

“Oh my God.” Adin tossed the box onto the table. “That
asshole.
”

“What’s wrong?” Donte peered over his shoulder. “Oh.”

Sean and Barrett laughed at Adin’s embarrassment when they discovered Harwiche’s bequest turned out to be a well-thumbed set of the Twilight Series books by Stephanie Meyer.

“What is this?” asked Santos, picking up one of the books.

“Vampire romance novel.” Sean didn’t bother keeping the smirk off his face. “The series was a major phenomenon with teens before they moved on to dystopian future stories.”

Santos nudged Adin with his shoulder. “Harwiche had your number after all.”

“Very funny.” Adin turned to Donte. “I want to go home.”

“So soon?” Barrett appeared unhappy to hear it. “Dinner will be served in a bit. I wanted to show you—”

“Sorry, Barrett. I really need to be going. I have vampire elders to appease.”

Barrett said, “I’ll call you,” but Adin had already turned to leave.

Chapter Sixteen

Donte sent a brief text to Boaz to let him know he didn’t need a ride back and then allowed Adin to lead him to the front door. On the way there, he bid a delighted farewell to everyone he encountered. He got into the back of Tuan’s SUV and made himself comfortable. Adin took his hand. He appreciated the contact. It seemed ages since Adin had initiated touch that wasn’t predicated on sex or anger.

He slid over so his shoulder brushed Adin’s. “I have missed you so much. Not just because you’ve been in Los Angeles. It’s been a long time since you’ve been with me in more than just physical proximity. I know you’re angry—”

“I have every right to be angry.”

“I know. I know that.” Donte let his gaze fall on their joined hands. “I will beg for your forgiveness as long as you like. I never meant to hurt you. I—”

“You warned me, Donte.” Adin sighed. “I’ve always liked playing with fire.”

“I should never have returned once I had my journal. But I have very little self-control when it comes to you.”

“That’s because I’m vampire catnip.”

“Apparently you’re actual catnip as well. I thought I’d need a tranquilizer gun for young Barrett.”

“He’s not my type. I don’t usually like—”

“No pussy jokes,” said Tuan. “Don’t make me stop this car.”

“I love you, Adin. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything. And everyone I have ever loved is dead.” Donte closed his eyes. “Can you comprehend that?”

“No.” Adin spoke so softly Donte barely heard the words. “I can’t.”

Behind his closed lids he sensed the red, yellow, and green light of traffic signals. Buildings formed shadows and bars of light, reminding him of early films—the flickering picture that had both awed and fascinated him when he’d first seen one. Films, and the haunting sound of the recorded voice, always seemed more like magic to him than being dead, and yet still alive.

He’d wished he could have captured his life that way, in talking pictures, instead of simply inking his memories on pages. He wished he could hear Auselmo’s voice again.

The laughter of his children.

“I’ve lived too long,” he said.

Adin drew his hand back and Donte winced. He’d inadvertently hurt his lover. He’d never intended to point out the obvious: there were losses in his life that still pained him. Grief he couldn’t let go of. Whatever he loved about Adin, whatever joy Adin brought him, it didn’t protect his heart from what he’d had to leave behind.

For the rest of the ride, Donte freed his mind from the past. He listened to the symphony of automobiles, allowed their rumbling purr to burrow deep inside him. He let the whir of tires on the tarmac fill him until he overflowed—until he was merely a conduit for the music of machines—and he floated along on a wide, soothing river of sound.

In the void, he found his equilibrium again.

Adin was probably still angry. Adin had only reached for him in the first place out of pity. He could accept that and be grateful for it.

They were closer to an accord than they’d been in Colorado.

“Donte.” Adin used the too-gentle tone Donte despised. “We’re here.”

Donte arranged his features into a blank mask, one he’d worn for far too long. “You don’t have to coddle me. I can take a cab home from here.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

Tuan pulled to the curb and turned off the engine before opening the door and exiting the car. He stood a polite distance away to give them privacy.

“Why?” Donte asked.

Adin’s caught his lower lip between his teeth. “I want you to stay with me.”

“Really?” Donte couldn’t help being mesmerized by the sight of those teeth. Adin had such a sweet mouth. Full-lipped. Saucy. “Is it possible you’ve missed me a little?”

“I’ve hardly been gone long enough for that.” Adin’s lashes fanned down over his cheeks. “I’m still angry.”

“And you’ve been so busy,” Donte teased, “giving grave offense to the elders. Or so Ellen Wentzler tells me.”

“Ah, yeah. I kind of did that.”

“So perhaps—”

“I’m glad to see you, all right?” Adin admitted at last. “My entire body did this insane little dance when I saw you standing there. I guess I’ve grown accustomed to your face.”

The words might have made Donte’s heart race if it still had the habit of beating. It might have made his heart burst into a thousand drops of happiness that shot around his chest like little comets. “Perhaps I should see you to your room, in case you cause further trouble?”

“You might even have to stay with me, just to make sure I don’t do anything worse.”

“I might have to
sit on you
.” Donte’s words were light, but his happiness gathered momentum. “Lest you destroy the precarious diplomatic balance of the entire undead world.”

“Yes. That.” Adin unbuckled his seatbelt. “You should probably do exactly that.”

Adin and Donte slid from the car and bid Tuan goodbye. As he got back in and prepared to drive away, Tuan failed to hide his smile. “Call me. We can still go for that drink.”

“All right.” Adin waved as the SUV took off. He turned back, eyes lit with a soft glow of welcome. No one in the world could shine like Adin Tredeger.

For a moment, the sight was so overwhelming it was nearly past bearing.

And then the joy of welcome reminded Donte too much of the pain of loss.

Damn Adin. Always wearing his heart on his sleeve.

“What is it?” Adin frowned at him.

Donte’s heart tried to crawl in on itself, like a hedgehog. “Have I reminded you lately how silly you are?”

“I’ll have you know, I’m an apex predator. That gives me
gravitas
.” They headed for the hotel’s grand entrance, dodging pedestrians and luggage trolleys and people taking photographs.

Donte dropped Adin’s hand before heading into the revolving door. “On you, gravitas looks like a milk mustache.”

“Wait—” Someone entering behind them tried to jump the gun getting in, and the door came to an abrupt halt before starting to move again. Adin half skittered, half fell into the lobby when it started back up. “How come you get to be a cool, moody bastard and I get a milk mustache?”

“I’m an elder. You’re barely a hatchling.” He followed Adin to the elevators.

“Is that vampire speak for ‘You kids get off my lawn’?”

“Possibly. Which floor are you on?”

“Nineteen.”

“Are you going to invite me into your room?”

“Do you still need me to do that?” A small smile played over Adin’s lips. “If you’re very good, I will consider it.”

“Well, make up your mind quickly. Ellen Wentzler appears to be on her way across the lobby, and she doesn’t look terribly happy to see you.”

“God
damn
it. That woman is like a heat-seeking missile.” Fortunately, the elevator doors parted and Adin hustled inside. He turned and yanked Donte in with him. “I can’t even use mind tricks on her because she’s not human.”

“If she were human, you wouldn’t be having this trouble.” Donte stifled a laugh. “At any rate, you’re a vampire, Adin, not a Jedi.”

“Does she seem kind of ‘PTA lady’ to you?”

“I have no idea what that is.”

“Never mind.” Adin pressed the button for floor nineteen and watched Wentzler’s face fall when she realized he was going to get away again.

“May I ask why you’re dodging her? When you’re traveling in a populated area, it’s protocol to meet with the elders. It’s necessary for your protection. Didn’t Santos explain all this to you?”

“Of course he did.” He had, hadn’t he? Adin groaned and faced the elevator wall. Maybe he hadn’t been listening too closely.

“Adin?”

“If I meet with her,” Adin admitted, “it makes all of this real.”

“This is real, caro. Fighting what you are doesn’t make it any less real.” Donte ran a finger lightly over the back of Adin’s neck. A light ripple brought the fine hairs up on his skin. “Do you remember making love in the elevator of the Bonaventure Hotel?”

“Yes.” Adin rested his forehead against the wall.

“You offered me your throat.” Donte kissed the exposed skin of Adin’s nape. “That’s when I first realized how utterly insane you are.”

“I repeat: No one asks why people jump out of airplanes. Having your teeth on my throat is goddamn sexy. That was one of the greatest rushes of my life.”

“
Mm
.” Donte let his teeth skim the flesh beneath Adin’s ear. “For me too, in case you haven’t guessed. With or without bloodletting.”

Adin melted back into Donte’s body, so much so that when the elevator doors whisked open at their floor, Donte had to lock an arm around him to guide him out.

At Adin’s door, Donte glanced up and down the hallway before placing a soft, nuzzling kiss to the back of his neck. “Will you invite me in, Adin?”

Adin brushed his key card playfully over Donte’s lips—as if he were still thinking things over. In the end, his lips curved up in a warm smile. “Was there really ever any doubt?”

Ch
apter Seventeen

The moment the door closed behind them Adin pushed Donte up against it. “Hello, you.”

“Hello.” Donte’s answering smile wasn’t the wide, white welcoming smile he normally wore. His kisses were warm, but tentative. “We should probably discuss Boaz.”

“
Buzzkill
.” Adin groaned against his lips. “Why would you even bring that up?”

“I bring it up—” Donte cupped his face and pushed him away, “—for the same reason you ignore it. What’s happened still comes between us until the matter of Boaz is settled.”

“Everything’s between us.” He turned his back to Donte. He didn’t switch on the lights, but he didn’t need to anymore, did he? He tossed the parcel from Harwiche—those goddamn books—carelessly onto the bed and started to remove his clothes. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” Donte stayed near the doorway, watching.

“It isn’t only Boaz between us. It’s your past. It’s my lost future. It’s my old rival, Harwiche. It’s my ignorance and your fear that you’ll lose me.”

Donte lifted his shoulder in its well-tailored suit jacket. “Fair enough.”

“Oh, Donte. Why is it always like this?” Adin pulled his sweater off in a slow, sensuous glide of silken knit. Playfully, he looped it around Donte’s neck and drew him closer. “I’m angry. And I’m aroused. And we’re not going to settle our differences in a night anyway, so can’t we simply relax for a bit?”

Donte closed his eyes. Was that to hide his irritation? “I could be persuaded to table the discussion. For now.”

“I don’t mean to make light of the situation. I don’t know what will fix things, but I hate the distance between us.”

Donte shrugged out of his jacket and began the work of unbuttoning his shirt.

Adin sat on the bed to watch his lover strip. God, he was so gorgeous. And he never acted as though he was aware of that fact. His movements were precise. Careful. Not self-conscious in any way. Adin reached for him. He undid Donte’s buckle and gave the belt a tug. The soft leather slid from his belt loops easily. Sensually. He let his fingers brush Donte’s fly and felt the stir of a cock beneath his knuckles. “So I guess you need me to take your mind off things?”

“Is that what this is?” Donte’s lips curved into a small smile. “If it is, I’ll take it, gladly.”

Adin lost some of his bravado. “Maybe I need you for the same reason.”

“Are you troubled about something?” Donte frowned at that. He sat down on the bed and wrapped his arm around Adin. “What is it?”

“I fed last night.”

Donte nodded. “So you said.”

“There was a roomful of willing participants of all varieties, and I deliberately chose a woman. Someone older. I didn’t want to feel anything for her. I didn’t want it to be more than an even exchange.”

Dante’s lip twitched as he nodded. “Very simple. It’s goods for services.”

Adin sagged against him. “I guess.”

“And what do you believe she wanted in return?”

“A thrill? Or maybe just a good orgasm? I could give that. I’d planned on it, but—”

“Oh, Adin. Nothing is that simple. We develop attachments when we feed.”

“I know that now.” And now, it bothered him. “If the connection you and I forged in the beginning was because you fed from me, will it even be possible to keep that now that I’m like you?”

“I don’t know.” Donte’s eyes held traces of all the pain he’d ever known. “I’ve never had a vampire lover before.”

“Never?” That drew Adin up short. “Ever?”

“Why would I? Vampires don’t partner for the purpose of procreation, and we compete with one another for the food supply. We generally find human companions, and in that case, turning them means the food source is—” Wisely, Donte shut up.

“Goddammit. I didn’t even think of that.”

“I don’t turn humans as a general rule. You and Santos are the exception. In his case, as the child of my former lover, I think you can see why I’d never—”

“And you’ve never turned anyone else?”

“A handful, over the years. Other than you and Santos, I have only turned people who have asked to be turned. No one I cared about.”

“So you don’t even know if this—” Adin gestured between them, “—is possible?”

“It must be possible, because here we are.” Donte pulled him close. “And I still want you. I want you even more.”

“But what we had before I was turned—that might have been a simple biological need. What happens now that we don’t have that anymore? What if vampires can’t have relationships with one another? What if it’s not—”

“I have known vampires who had vampire partners. It isn’t common, but it’s done.”

“But—maybe they’re like incestuous human partnerships. Maybe—”

“For the love of God. Stop trying to look at the undead world from a limited human perspective.”

Adin wrapped his arms around himself and sat on the bed. That Donte couldn’t understand his frustration—that he could never seem to understand why Adin worried when life gave him questions and there were no good answers—was starting to wear thin.

“What’s wrong now?” Donte sat down beside him. “You don’t really believe that a vampire is any more unnatural when he loves another vampire. Being a vampire is unnatural, period. Whatever we do must be based on some other system of morality or ethics or—”

“You sound just like Charles.” Adin’s bitterness with regard to his former lover, his mentor, the man who betrayed him personally and professionally in the most profound way, didn’t go unnoticed by Donte.

Donte narrowed his eyes. “Who is this Charles?”

“Someone I used to know. He believed he had the right to take what he wanted, simply because no one could to stop him.”

“I’ve known a thousand men—and an equal number of women—like that. Both living and undead.”

“Charles was ethically bankrupt. He was a liar, a cheat, and an entitled asshat.”

“This Charles is the man who taught you not to trust your heart by hurting you.” Donte’s gentle gaze unmanned him. “I am not this Charles.”

“I don’t believe he actually succeeded.” Adin’s cheeks heated with a rush of hot denial. “I trusted my heart where you were concerned.”

“Was that your heart?”

“It might have been my dick.” Adin shrugged. “But Charles came and went from my life, whereas the things I believe are important are still with me.”

Donte took Adin’s hand. “If you like, we can find this asshat—this Charles—and drain him dry.”

“That would leave a pretty bitter taste in my mouth, both literally and figuratively.”

“I’m beginning to think you’re going to be no real fun.”

“Ah, now see?” Adin lay back on the bed, arms over his head seductively, on leg bent, one dangling over the side. “That’s where you’d be wrong.”

Donte chuckled. He rolled over and pinned Adin onto his back. “I’m so very glad to be here with you, caro.”

“We shouldn’t quarrel anymore, should we?”

“I’d prefer it if we didn’t. I’d prefer to have you by my side always. I’d prefer it if there were no more secrets between us, no more bitterness.”

“Do you believe that’s even possible?”

“We will make it our reality.” Donte pressed his face into Adin’s neck and breathed deeply. “You smell delicious. Like raisins and Chanel No. 5.”

“I don’t know where the raisins came from, but Sahar was wearing the perfume.”

“Sahar.” Donte leaned over him. Kissed his mouth with astonishing tenderness. “I like that name. If you liked her, you can always call her back to you.”

“I can?”

“Of course. She belongs to you now. A part of her will always—”

Adin sat up. “What are you talking about?”

“Pazzo.” Donte pressed his thumb into the center of Adin’s forehead. “We’ve spoken of this, I’m certain. If you fed from her, you’ve marked her as yours. You can call her to you. I told you how different it was with us, that this sense of belonging went both ways? I know I mentioned it because it astounded me. What did you think I meant?”

“I had no idea what you meant. If you remember, I was dodging you in those days. Being attacked by Santos’s men. Fighting for my life.”

“Santos’s men attacked you because you were mine.”

“Does that mean someone will attack Sahar?” Every nerve in Adin’s body fired up, ready for a fight. “Because if that’s the case—”

“It doesn’t work quite that way. I fed from you more than once, and I marked you as my property in several—” Donte laid his hand on Adin’s cock, “—obvious ways. I made it known that you were under my protection.”

“Fat lot of good that did me.”

“In my defense, I didn’t think anyone would dare defy me.”

“Santos isn’t just anyone,” Adin guessed.

“Exactly.” Donte tugged Adin back down. “No one will harm your woman. You have no enemies yet.”

“She’s not my—” He stopped the words because maybe she was. He
felt
possessive. He
felt
protective. He even felt some form of those emotions for the man he’d fed from at the airport. It wasn’t the same. Perhaps because Bishop’s gift hadn’t been a willing one? “It’s weird, how deeply I feel for her. It’s…disconcerting.”

“Do you still feel something for me?”

“Of course I do.” Despite their arguments, despite his disillusionment, Adin did.

Donte’s lips curved into a smile. “Even though I’m a monster?”

“Don’t call yourself that.”

Adin froze.

God, how could I have been so blind.
Adin roughly cupped Donte’s face between his hands. “Do you think I don’t know how hard you try to hide your kindness? Your empathy? Do you think I didn’t see how often you protected me, even from myself? You left me on my own, but you charged others with keeping me safe. Tuan saved me from Santos’s men, because of you.”

“Caro—”

“I’m such an ass… You haven’t lost your humanity. You only hide it, because you believe others will use it against you.” The minute he said it, he saw the truth in Donte’s eyes. Jesus.

How many times had Boaz said it?
You don’t survive five hundred years by wearing your heart on your sleeve.

“There are those who most certainly would use my humanity against me.” A muscle in Donte’s jaw tensed. “Especially if they knew I value you more than my own existence.”

“Jesus.
God
.” Adin’s world seemed to collapse in on him. His thoughts were tighter and brighter.
I’m not going to be a monster.
He felt dizzy with the realization.
I’m never going be a monster.
“I haven’t changed since I’ve become Kind, except now that I’ve lost my mortality, I understand better what it means to be human. I loved Sahar while I had her. I still feel her presence deep inside me. I feel as though I’ll love her forever, even if we never meet again. As though she and I belong to one another. It’s so powerful—”

“Shh.” Donte wrapped his arms around Adin’s shoulders and drew him closer. “Slow down, caro.”

“I’ve already grown some kind of fierce protective instinct for her. I feel a kind of love I never knew I could be capable of.” Adin rubbed the flat of his palm over his chest. “It hurts that I’ll never see her again.”

“I know,” Donte said gently. “I understand.”

“Christ Almighty. Is this what you felt for me?”

“It’s what I feel for everyone I’ve ever fed from. With you—” Donte closed his eyes. “With you it was as if I’d been struck by lightning. As if I’d been burned throughout my entire being and the fire cleansed me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“With you, I felt something entirely new—as if you’re a beacon in a window, guiding me to a home that exists purely in my deepest longing.”

Tears stung Adin’s eyes. “Donte—”

“I fought what I feel for you for your sake. And for mine. I fought it because, out of all the things I’ve seen and experienced, you frighten me the most.”

“My God.” Adin fell back against the pillows, struck speechless by Donte’s confession.

Donte groped for his hand to lace their fingers together. “I’m a lovesick boy all over again. Adin. I love you. I want you. And you terrify me.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Adin gave Donte’s hand a squeeze. “I don’t even know how that makes me feel.”

Donte turned his head toward Adin. “In the cabin, I would watch you stand at the window at sunrise. You died a little, every morning.”

“I did.” Adin nodded.

“I wanted to beg you to stay with me. To plead for your smile. I wanted to say, ‘Just give me some time to show you what we can be together.’ But I felt so guilty for turning you when you didn’t want it, I could never speak the words.”

“I’m so sorry, Donte. I didn’t understand. I let the past—I let my prejudices—come between us.” Adin stared up at the ceiling. They’d wasted so much time. And despite his current seemingly endless supply of that commodity, he regretted it. “What’s going to happen now?”

Donte turned to him, all his love and longing right there, on his face for Adin to see. “What do you want?”

“You.” Adin turned to Donte, his heart so full it felt like it would burst if he didn’t say what was in his heart. “Oh God, Donte. I want you.”

When Donte finally drew Adin into his arms, it was with the familiarity of lifetimes and the desperation of a starving wolf.

Adin was fair, where Donte’s skin was the rich olive of his Mediterranean heritage. When they’d met, the symbolism of that, of centuries of conditioning that said light was good and darkness was evil hadn’t been lost on him.

Now, there was only contrast. His tan hand roamed over a vast, sleek expanse of creamy skin—seeming acres of it—dusted lightly with golden hair and a spattering of freckles. Adin was a wonderland of sensory input for him to enjoy in every way he could carnally imagine.

“Più amato.” His hand slipped inside the silken knit of Adin’s pricey briefs and found his cock. “I never tire of looking at you.”

“Look your fill, lover.” Hazel eyes met his with warmth he probably still didn’t deserve. “But when you’re done, I expect you to do a little touching as well.”

“All in good time, my love.” Donte dipped his head and pressed a kiss to Adin’s full lips.

Adin had a sweet, sweet mouth. A tentative lick of Donte’s tongue opened it, causing them both to smile almost shyly. Nothing lay between them now but this heat, this passion he’d felt from the very first moment he’d laid eyes on Adin Tredeger.