Demon's Kiss (22 page)

As well she should be.

“I ran away from my stepfather because he wouldn't stay out of my bed. Lived on the streets, fucked for money so I could buy cocaine and get something to eat now and then, got weak and thin and sick, and probably would have wound up dead sooner or later. But Gregor found me, and changed me and took me in. End of story.”

They all nodded, except Vixen. She looked away—unable to stand looking at her, Briar thought. Probably thought she was too good.

“So what's your lineage, Briar?” Reaper asked. “Gregor made you, but who made Gregor?”

“I don't fucking know or care.” Briar pushed herself up off the floor. “It'll be light soon. I'm going to find a place to crash.”

No one said good-night, or good day, or whatever the fuck they were in the habit of saying, as she walked away. She stopped and turned. “I almost forgot. Gregor sent me a message for you while you were all playing Bible camp.”

Reaper shot to his feet, and she smiled, knowing she had his full attention. “Is he on his way, then?”

She shook her head. “Not necessary. He wants a prisoner exchange. You and me, Reaper—alone. Tomorrow night, nine o'clock. He picked a public place—probably for your peace of mind. It's a goth bar called The Crypt, in downtown Savannah. I've memorized the address.”

Then she turned and walked away to find a dark corner where she could rest away from them. Their goodness made her want to puke.

“I
don't trust him,” Vixen said. She was walking through the warehouse at Seth's insistence. He had hold of her hand, guiding her to where they were going to sleep for the day, though he hadn't told her yet where that was.

“Gregor or Reaper?”

“Gregor.” She tilted her head. “Reaper…is dangerous. But he wouldn't betray us. Not deliberately, at least.”

“I'm not even sure what that means.”

She shrugged. “It could be dangerous tonight. The exchange.”

“It's in a public place. That will help.”

“No, Seth.” She stopped walking and turned to look straight into his eyes. “It makes no difference whatsoever to Gregor. He doesn't care if innocents die, or if his bloodlust is witnessed by mortals. He never has. But Reaper does. Don't you see that doing this in public puts Reaper more at risk, not less? He'll be at a disadvantage from the start, because he'll care about protecting the innocents.”

Seth shook his head. “I hadn't thought of that.”

“Something is wrong—I feel danger right to the core of me.”

“All right. We'll talk to Reaper.”

She nodded, started to pull her hand free.

He held tighter. “At sundown, when we rise. There will be time enough then.” And he started walking again, tugging her along at his side.

“Where are we going?”

“There,” he said. He pointed to the van, which had been parked inside, to keep it from view. It was in a small section of the warehouse, separated from the area where the others had taken up residence. The car was parked beside it. “Roxy said we could sleep in the van, if we wanted.”

“Oh.”

“You're disappointed?”

One shoulder rose, a half shrug that came automatically. “I used to curl up beside a fallen tree, or beneath a pine, snuggled and warm with the stars overhead. But now I can only sleep by day, and it has to be indoors.” Her eyes closed slowly. “I miss…my old life.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It can never be the same. But I can get some of it back. As soon as this is over, and Gregor is stopped and Topaz is safe, and I know that you'll be safe, too, then…” She let her words trail off as she searched her mind.

“Then…” he asked.

Vixen smiled. “I don't know, exactly. I only know I'll be free again. To do what I want, run wild, and play and explore. I won't be able to sleep in the sunlight, but maybe I can get some of my old life back again. Somehow.”

He looked sad then. She tipped her head to one side, then the other, studying his face. “Why does that make you feel badly?”

“I guess because…you didn't mention me as being a part of those plans of yours.”

“Don't be silly, Seth. I can't make your plans for you. Only my own, for me.”

They'd reached the back of the van, and she opened the doors. Then she paused to look. Seth had folded up the rear seats, leaving plenty of room for a bed on the floor. There were blankets and pillows spread out, ready and welcoming. She climbed inside and stretched out among the softness. “This is almost as good as being under the stars.”

“Is it?”

His earlier mood had been upbeat, even excited. Now he seemed brooding. It wasn't like him.

Laughing, she reached for him, and pulled him so hard that he fell into the nest of blankets with her, landing on top of her. His groin was nestled between her thighs, and his face was close to hers. She felt him growing hard against her, and smiled even more. “Oh, I see how it is. That's what you have in mind, is it?”

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Sex. Mating.”

“Not exactly.”

She frowned, disappointment dousing her excited anticipation away. “No? What, then?”

“Lovemaking,” he said.

Her smile returned. “But isn't that the same thing?”

“Not by a long shot, Vixen. Tonight I'm going to teach you the difference.”

She lifted her eyebrows, and her smile widened. “You mean, we get to do both?”

The look of sadness fled from his face. He smiled, slowly but deeply; it reached his eyes and, she thought, his soul. “Yeah,” he said, “we'll do both.” Then he slid his hands around the nape of her neck and kissed her. But it was a light, teasing kiss. His lips danced over hers, first upper, then lower, and they almost tickled, their touch was so featherlight.

She parted her own lips, longing for the heat and passion of his earlier kisses. Mouths open, tongues questing, suckling and biting as their bodies strained to press closer, even when they were touching at every possible juncture.

But he didn't give her that. Instead, he kissed slowly, tenderly. His fingers drifted back and forth over her nape, the touch exquisitely gentle and yet incredibly arousing. God, he was killing her.

His kisses moved to her jaw and down to her neck, where he nibbled and sucked, but softly. So softly.

She felt an arousal the likes of which she had never felt before. The bloodlust rose inside her, creating a red haze over her vision. His mouth near her throat was an image, a sensation, that drove her wild. She wanted him to bite down, to drink from her. She wanted to push him down and spring on him and drain him. She wanted him inside her. She wanted all of him.

And yet he held himself above her, not even letting his body's weight rest on her, just gently nibbling, his entire demeanor one of infinite control. Except, perhaps, for the hardness between his legs. He arched his hips against hers in a slow, primal rhythm that spoke of mating.

She was trembling now. She was panting.

“We have more than an hour,” he whispered.

“If you make me wait that long, I swear on the undead, Seth, I will rip out your heart.”

His eyes, lazily half-lidded before, widened a little at that declaration.

“Please?” she whimpered. “Seth, could we do the mating first, fast and urgently, the way it's meant to be, and save this slow lovemaking for after? If I don't achieve release soon, I think I'll surely die of need.”

He smiled then, his features relaxing. “I'm a little eager myself, to be honest.”

“Then take me, Seth. Take me now. Make it hard and fast and deep. Please.”

The smile died, and his eyes became darker. Passion-glazed, she thought. He looked different. Intense and deep. He reached down to peel his shirt up and over his head as she watched.

His chest was magnificent. She'd noticed as much before, and she noticed it all over again now, with an even deeper appreciation this time, though it hadn't changed. Maybe
she
had, though. She'd become more and more fond of him, and that might make him appear even more physically attractive to her. Had his abs been that taut before? Had his chest been that smooth and firm? Had his biceps
really
been that hard? Had his shoulders…

Suddenly her hands were on him, running over every spot she had admired and every place in between. Touching him, feeling his skin and muscle slipping beneath her palm, had suddenly become as necessary as breathing. She couldn't help herself.

He'd been undoing his jeans, but he stopped when she began caressing him. He went still, watching her, and then his eyes fell closed as she stroked and rubbed his shoulders and his chest, his arms and his belly.

“You're killing me, Vixen.”

“As you were me, a few moments ago. It serves you right.” But she stopped running her palms over him and instead peeled off her own blouse. Then she quickly shimmied out of her skirt and panties, and leaned back to observe him.

He was kneeling in front of her but had only managed to unsnap his jeans before he'd apparently lost the ability to do anything but stare at her. She blinked up at him. “What?”

“You.”

“What about me?” She looked down at her body. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong.” He reached out, touched her arm, traced his hand down it. “You're beautiful, that's all. The most beautiful woman I've ever…God.”

“That's very nice, Seth. But you're doing it wrong.” She clasped his hand, removing it from her arm and placing it squarely on her left breast.

“Impatient little minx, aren't you?”

“I'm not a minx at all, though I've known a few, and you're right, they're terribly impatient.”

He laughed, adjusting his hand, then using it to knead and squeeze her flesh. Then he brought his fingers together to press her nipple between them. She closed her eyes and breathed through smiling lips. “Yes, yes. That's better.”

And then his lips were on hers again, but no longer with those useless, teasing kisses he'd been giving her before. Now he kissed her the way she'd been wanting him to: fully, deeply, almost desperately. It made her body heat, made the trembling he'd already elicited come on more strongly. Full-body shudders racked her now. And she loved it. She loved it all.

She twined her fingers into his hair and tugged his head away from her mouth, guiding it toward her breast, until he latched on and took her nipple with his lips, his tongue, even his teeth, which made her scream with pleasure.

She wrestled with his jeans, shoving them down his hips; then she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, locked her ankles behind him and used them to pull him down, until his hard, erect member slid right inside her. Deeply inside her.

She closed her eyes, and her mouth formed a perfect O, which was also the sound that emerged. It was a cry of sheer sensation, of physical bliss.

He moved then, sliding back and forth, in and out, but not only that. Sometimes he moved his hips in circles, rocking so deeply into her that she went into an instant orgasm.

His hands slid beneath her, gripping her hips tight and holding her to him so he could penetrate even more deeply as she climaxed. She moaned and cried, then came again as her body tried to shake itself apart. And all the while he held her, pushing her more and more, making the pleasure go on and on.

Finally he eased back just a little, changing his movements to slower, gentler ones, just to give her time, she thought, to come back to earth again.

Panting, she managed to stammer one word. “Ah-ma-zing.”

“We're just getting started. Come here.”

He wrapped her in his arms, hooked a leg around and beneath hers, and rolled them both over, until she was lying on top of him.

She liked that
very
much. Her knees were down, her body upright, her thighs straddling him. She rode him that way, hard and deep, fast, and she enjoyed knowing that he was getting incredible pleasure from watching the way her breasts bounced as she worked him. She could tell. After a while he used his hands to torment her nipples, pinching and pulling while she drove herself into a frenzy on top of him.

It wasn't enough, so she began to lean back, just to see how far she could go, changing the angle of entry and slide, the contact points, just enough. New nerve endings came to screaming life, and with a few more strokes she was coming again, screaming his name, shivering all over, bouncing faster than before, and then losing herself in a torrent of spasms that rocked her right to the core.

She didn't realize at first that he had climaxed, as well. She only figured that out when he didn't start moving in and out again. He held her close, kissed her mouth, her neck, stared into her eyes in between.

And there was something…Something way beyond the intense sex they'd just had and the momentous orgasms he had given her—the likes of which she'd never known. There was something else, twisting in her gut. It was big, and not entirely pleasant. It felt like a stirring of panic, of utter, heart-rending fear. It felt like the fight-or-flight response she'd heard spoken of, taking hold. It was hard to breathe, because for some reason her throat was constricting painfully, and her eyes were burning, as if someone had dumped them full of acid.

“What did you do?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” He stroked her hair, unable to see her face, because she was resting it on his chest just then. “Are you all right, Vixen?”

“I feel…Something's wrong.”

He sat up a little, lifting her from his chest and searching her face. “What is it?”

“Is it—is it possible for a vampire to have a heart attack?”

“I don't think so.”

“Well, that's what it feels like. It hurts. Right here.” She pressed a balled-up fist to her chest. “I think you made me climax so powerfully I damaged my heart.”

He grinned, but when she didn't respond in kind, he wiped the look from his face and studied her seriously instead. “I promise, there's nothing wrong with your heart. Maybe it's just starting to feel something for the first time, hmm? Could that be it?”

“
Feel
something? Of course it felt something. That was
incredible.
Every single part of my body felt something. But it shouldn't
hurt.
”