Kiss Me Deadly (6 page)

“I’d be happy to oblige, if that’s what you really want, but…” He pointed to the windows, shaded by blinds. “Daylight.”

“What, you forget your SPF100?”

“Did I mention your sense of humor is what I like most about you, sweetness?”

“Enough! So you can’t leave. What new hell is this day, anyway?” She tapped the counter. “I’m going to see about a reversal incantation. With luck, I’ll have you hating me in less than an hour, and you can be on your merry way. Of course then, you won’t kill me when you hate me, because you
will
owe me one.”

“I’d never kill you unless it’s between the sheets,” Nikolaus said as he approached her. When he was inches from stroking her cheek, he pulled back. A grin offered the acquiescence her sudden wielding of the cross dagger demanded. “Over and over until you can’t cry out any longer and the pleasure reduces us both to molten reverie.”

She cast him such a horrified look Nikolaus laughed. The last time he’d had to struggle to get a girl to accept his kiss had been, well, never. The challenge intrigued him.

“What? You can’t imagine making love like that? Let’s do it now, Ravin. I need you.”

“Back off!”

It was obvious she wasn’t going to be convinced of some early morning sex. Fine. He’d attacked her; she needed some time to get over it.

And he needed to put a finger on this weird abundance of emotion that kept him bouncing back for more and more punishment from someone he should be hating.

Nikolaus sat on a bar stool across the counter from where the witch stood. For the moment, she paged through a thick black leather book, ignoring him. But he could sense her regard. She was very aware of him.

This was madness.

Was that it? Somehow just intending to kill had visited the
danse macabre
upon him? For when a vampire killed he took the victim’s nightmares into him, and would relive them as if his own later. The more kills led to madness.

No, you’re not being logical. Use the parietal lobe, that’s what it’s for.

Yeah, she was tempting to look at. Nikolaus could appreciate women, instead of seeing them only as either food or sexual fulfillment. Or both. To know they required tenderness, no matter how hard a front the woman wore. Yes, a slow seduction, a journey of her body, soul and mind was required.

“What are you doing, Nikolaus?”

“Nothing.” She’d used his name. She was softening already. And he hadn’t accessed the parietal, but instead the visual, occipital lobe. What was up with that?

“You’re doing nothing very loudly. Go and sit on the couch, away from me.”

He propped his forearms on the counter and bent down to catch her elusive gaze. “No.”

“I can’t do this with you watching me.”

“Maybe that means you should save it for later. Right now you need to relax. You’re strung tighter than a bow. Your anger is so strong I can feel it. And you do need to take care of that wound.”

“What am I supposed to do about it? Stitch it up?”

“Let me lick it again. My saliva will—”

“If you so much as lay a finger on me—let alone, a tongue—I will strike for your eyes and tear them from your face.”

“You see? Such vicious anger. Where does it all come from? You need to chill.”

She slammed the grimoire shut. Black lacquered fingernails tapped the stone countertop.

“Are you a Goth?” he suddenly wondered.

“A—what? I am not!”

“You dress like one.”

“I could argue you dress the same. You’ve more black leather than a damned cow.”

“Cows are Goths?”

“Now you’re just trying to piss me off.”

Nikolaus met her furious gaze—and smiled. He loved her fire.

He knew there was a reason behind the strange feeling.

“I stink,” she finally said. “I smell like love spell and vampire. I need to wash you off me. I’m going to take a shower.”

“I’ll join you.”

“I shower with a stake in hand.”

“You’re not serious.”

She leaned forward, fluttering her lashes. “Try me.”

“I’ll wait out here.”

“No, you will not. My need to shuck off your scent leaves a convenient moment for you, the enemy, to quietly slip away, never to be seen again.”

“What about the spell? I thought you were going to reverse it?”

“If only. I can’t reverse it. The creator of the spell can never do that. It requires the owner—the one I created it for—to recite the reversion chant.”

“So who ordered the spell?”

She chewed her lower lip.
Let me
, Nikolaus thought.

“None of your business. So take a hike, will you? You must have a means for traversing in the daylight. A driver? Dark glasses and a hood? Go on. The spell doesn’t bind you to my home.”

“Spell or not, I am bound to you with this.” He pressed a hand over his heart. It had been a long time since he’d spoken words like this—and meant them.

“Oh, for freakin’ sake!” She charged past him, peeling her T-shirt over her head as she did so. As she wore no bra underneath, Nikolaus stepped from the stool to go after her for further investigation. “Don’t be here when I get out of the shower. I wasn’t lying about having a stake in the bathroom, and I will use it.”

Glancing toward the windows, he noted the slash of sunlight that beamed in around the edges where the vinyl shades had curved back from age. He did have a driver who was on twenty-four-hour call. Leaving wasn’t the issue.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, witch,” Nikolaus called to her retreating back.

Part of him knew the truth—they were enemies. He should not be here.

But a bigger part of him made Nikolaus walk over to the couch. Putting up his feet, he laid his head back and made himself at home.

W
as there anything worse than having a vampire in love with you?

Having a vampire sit on your couch and declare his love in sappy sweetness?

Yes, that was worse.

But he would rage when the spell was lifted. To be tricked into feeling love for his natural enemy? By the very witch who had once killed him?

Ravin closed her eyes and bowed her head. Water beat upon her shoulders and neck. The bite wound didn’t hurt anymore. But it pulsed, reminding her of her stupidity.

She had been bitten by a vampire before last night—many times. And despite the movies and books that would have one believe a vampire bite a sensual experience, it hurt like hell.

But this was the first time the biter had lasted longer than thirty seconds after sinking his teeth into her vein. There was a reason vamps called witch’s blood the
death cocktail.

So how to kill a vamp immune to her blood? That was the only option—a mercy killing. It was a hell of a lot more humane than allowing him to suffer under a love spell.

Would Drake be immune to another witch’s blood? Hmm…

Ravin had only lived in Minneapolis six months; she hadn’t encountered another witch, though she hadn’t gone looking for any, either. Like vampires, her kind were in the minority.

Certainly a stake should do the job nicely. Shove it in between a couple of ribs, twist and tear, and rip his heart open. If the vampire’s heart could be torn beyond repair, he would die.

Though, she wasn’t up on phoenix lore. He’d come back from ash? That was too incredible. Could the vampire take a stake and remain standing? And yet, he was obviously not at full strength for the glimpse of scar she’d seen on his neck.

The idiot was enamored, blubbering about love and dismayed over the harm he’d done her. How sneaky would it be to take him out as he declared his undying love for her? To maybe let him kiss her…while she held the stake ready behind her back?

Sneaky, but effective. He would never see it coming.

Who was she, if not a hunter who never allowed her prey rest?

Ravin soaped up her hair, kicking herself for leaving the vampire alone in her living room while she skipped off to get naked. In the same house? Was she stupid?

Obviously. Though, there was the dead bolt inside the bathroom door, and the Charlie bar, and the silver cross tipped with her blood. She took security very seriously. As well, a gun and an arsenal of blood bullets and stakes were fitted in the cabinet behind the towel rack.

She never welcomed anyone lightly into her home. Even her friends. In her line of work, it didn’t pay to have a lot of friends. In two centuries she could count on the fingers of one hand the faithful friends she had garnered—friends she would trust with her life.

Even those she did trust were never left alone. There were things in her home they could touch, and ruin and, well, destroy. Weapons, spells, protection wards. She was a private person, and she liked it that way. She didn’t do relationships, or—heaven forbid—
love
because she didn’t have time, the inclination or the patience for it.

Love was for people who possessed the capacity to care.

She shook her head under the stream of water and turned to press her hands against the slick tile wall. The awful smell from the spell had rinsed away and now the coconut body scrub filled her senses. To stand here all day would be the ultimate luxury. To not think about a thing. To not worry or have to communicate with the world.

Time to get back into hunt mode. Today, Ravin would rack up another notch on her stake. A notch that should have been permanent two months earlier.

At least she’d received credit for the botched spell.

Tracing a finger over the new slash mark, she smiled. So maybe the devil
could
be tricked? Ha!

The shower curtain slid open. Ravin choked on a stream of water. Steam fogged the small white bathroom and blurred the hanging spider plants to verdant blobs, but the large dark image was unmistakable.

How had he…? She hadn’t heard another door crash to the floor.

A naked vampire stepped into the bathtub.

“No.” She lifted her leg to kick at him but lost her balance on the slick porcelain surface.

Nikolaus caught her wrist, stopping her from a graceless fall against the shower tiles. “I need you, Ravin. You need me, too. Let’s do this.”

She resisted his attempts to kiss her so desperately, Nikolaus almost gave up. He could find street whores gladly willing to service his needs. But he didn’t need to be serviced. He wanted to dive into this woman and hope upon hope she’d allow him an inch.

He got an inch. Maybe it was because she had slipped under the hot rain of water. He didn’t care. That slight alteration in her stance moved her lips against his, and when he grabbed the back of her head to support her, she ceased to protest. And she began to indulge in the kiss as much as he wished her to.

“I know nothing of your kind,” he murmured against her ear, “but I intend to learn. All of you.”

For this moment he wouldn’t venture off to any other parts of her body. Only her lips. Inside, her mouth was as warm and wet as outside. Slicking his tongue across her teeth, he cautioned against nipping the plump lower lip.
No teeth
. Keep it sane.

One of them moaned. It was Ravin. A deep rumble in her throat that wasn’t admonishing or angry, only wanting. She had begun to respond to him in ways that didn’t hurt him.

Deep. Yes, she allowed him a long lazy kiss. Slide down inside her. Feed her moans with another, and another kiss. Control her with a few directing fingers along her spine, pressing the slick curves of her groin against his hips.
Make her yours
. And then softer, teasing kisses that led him from her mouth up to the tip of her slick nose.

Nikolaus shifted his entire body against hers, effectively holding her against the wet tile wall. Every pore on his body drank in her essence, the heat-steam misting from her like a wicked witch’s potion.

Like the potion you drank from her blood? Watch it, Drake, you’ll allow her the upper hand, no matter the conditions of
the silly spell. You are not enslaved to her whims; she is yours to do with as you please.

He dropped her arms and slid his fingers over her breasts. Heavy and firm, they were too large for a handful. He liked that there was so much of her to hold. To possess. Rock-hard nipples skimmed beneath his palms. The feel of them tightened him, made him hard.

Nikolaus growled out his need. He wanted to take her right now. No sane man could hold back the burgeoning want. The hot water pinpricked the thick head of his cock. Every touch, sensation and slide tempted him closer. He had to be inside her.

But he must be patient, not push too hard, for only moments earlier she had been ordering him to leave and never return. A man never gained headway by charging the front. (If the occasional door had to be battered down, that was different. The bathroom door had come down with one kick after he’d knocked off the hinges.) Yet Nikolaus had never been one to grasp and snatch. Slow and sure had never led him wrong before.

He bent to bury his face against her hot velvet breasts. A dash of his tongue tasted the ruddy texture of a nipple.

The slap of her palm tingled across his cheek. She shoved him hard against the shoulder. “Get out!”

“Make me,” he said, knowing this slip of a witch might be able to fire some bloody bullets at him, but she would never be able to physically move him. He towered over her by a foot, probably more. “You want this, too, Ravin. I can feel it in your kiss.”

“You’re going to feel something a lot more painful if you don’t step back!”

Instead of beating on him, or attempting a few expert shin-kicks, she stepped out of the shower. Steel curtain rings
zinged
across the shower bar with her exit.

Nikolaus pressed a hand to the tile wall and jerked back his head to flick the water from his eyes and disperse the hair from his face. A grimace quickly became a wistful grin.

“Why does love have to be so difficult? What am I doing wrong?”

His erection, heavy and taut against his stomach, wasn’t about to go flaccid anytime soon. Sex wasn’t love, he knew that, but the key body parts involved weren’t as up on the intellectual aspects of lovemaking.

With a glance over his shoulder he spied Ravin stomping out of the bathroom, dripping wet, her dark hair long eels slithering across her shoulders.

Nikolaus flicked off the water and stepped out. Barely avoiding clonking his head on a hanging plant holder, he dodged toward the vanity. Amid the fog of coconut steam, he could see there were no towels on the counter, so he went after Ravin, but she walked out of the bedroom and on into the living room.

“Where are you going?”

“Stake time,” she said.

He followed her wet trail, enlarging her scattered drops to puddles as the water poured from him. If she wasn’t going to play hostess, there wasn’t much he could do about the mess.

Besides, who could think about the nonessentials when the steam misting off her body carried the scent of her blood to his nose? Again, not so much appealing, as intriguing. It was different, and that drew him for further exploration and discovery.

“I can understand you’re not of the right mind, but I’ve lost all patience,” she insisted in the tough-girl bark that gave Nikolaus a chuckle. “You touched me!”

“I liked it. You did, too!” He rushed to pass her and slammed his shoulder against the closet door where, he guessed, she must keep the stakes. “You think to tease me by stripping naked but a room away, and expect I’ll just sit out on the couch twiddling my thumbs? I couldn’t not touch you, Ravin.”

“Get out of the way.”

“Make me.”

“Oh, my goddess.” She turned and stomped the floor with an ineffectual slam of her bare foot. “Don’t stand there like that.”

“Like what? Naked?”

“Yes!”

Hands to hips, Nikolaus stood tall. And erect. “You don’t like what you see?”

Avoiding eye contact, the witch snapped her gaze away from his torso, then back, then away. “You are so going to hate yourself for this later, I assure you.”

Now she took off in a jog back into the bedroom.

When he entered the room, she sat on the bed and twisted to face him. Her hand pulled something out from under the mattress. A pistol with a wooden grip and platinum barrel.

Deadly eyes held him from behind the barrel.

Nikolaus crossed his arms and stood at the end of the bed. He didn’t say a word. She’d find out soon enough. His erection bobbed against his stomach. Damn, but her audacity was making him all the more hungry.

“What the hell?” She jerked the gun toward his left side. “What is that? On the underside of your arm, and…your torso.”

He lifted the scarred appendage to display the witch’s handiwork. “Your work, Ravin.”

“That’s from the…
my
blood?” She walked across the bed on her knees, bringing the aimed gun on target with his heart. But her focus took in the havoc stretched along his side. “That’s…a lot of scarring. Why didn’t you die? You should have!”

Nikolaus took it all with calm resolution. Which surprised him, because he did not suffer anyone who held a weapon on him. A supernatural swiftness and agility allowed him to dodge bullets and sink in his fangs in but a blink.

But she needed to know him if she were ever to return the love he held for her.

Turning, he displayed the pink convoluted flesh marring the underside of his arm and all down his left side. It didn’t hurt to touch it, though it did bring back flashes of that dreaded night. Burning embers in the shape of a friend. Ash raining over the tarmac. Cries of terror. And Cory, fallen, and dying in his arms.

“One of my fallen cohorts bled on me. I…took from him, and it helped to stave off further desiccation. With Cory’s blood, I was able to fend off the immediate blaze of poison, keep it from spreading over my entire body, but it ate into my organs.”

“I don’t need names, vampire.”

“Why not? Cory Grant. That was his name. I’d known him for six months. He was just a kid, mid-twenties. Worked nights as a mechanic to pay child support for a baby he wasn’t sure was his, but loved all the same.”

“Enough.”

“Not enough.” Nikolaus tilted up the barrel of the gun so it pointed directly at his eyes, and focused on the witch’s flickering gaze. “My heart stopped that night—I was literally dead—but I remained conscious the entire time. Drinking. Feeding off a friend. Cory Grant was mortal. Your bullet killed some baby’s father.”

She cringed, and her sneer stretched wide. But her reply was almost too quiet to be heard. “That’s why I needed the Sight.”

“The what?”

Ignoring his question, she resumed her tough-girl stance. Naked and dripping, with but a towel wrapped about her torso. Her eyes did not stray, though Nikolaus willed her gaze to glance lower. To see his want, his need.