Laws of the Blood 4: Deceptions: Deceptions (14 page)

Sara laughed. She didn’t suppose it was appropriate, but she couldn’t help it. She supposed finding a suicidal vampire charming was odd, but what about her life wasn’t? “I think I’m strong enough to stick around.”

“Well, you’ve been warned.” Andrew glanced toward the shouting man in the center of the street. Another cop car had arrived on the scene, along with an EMT vehicle. “Excuse me a moment, Sara.”

Then he was gone.

She didn’t know what other people saw, but she was aware of shadows, and a flicker of speed. The man in the street stopped shouting and walked calmly toward the waiting medics, a smile on his bearded face. A moment later Sara’s hair was stirred by a brief, gentle breeze, like a soft caress of fingers sifting through it. Then Andrew was sitting across from her once more.

She glanced toward the street and back to Andrew. “He’s going quietly. What did you do?”

“Told him he wanted to go. It only took a touch of telepathy to calm him down.”

“Oh. He’s psychic?”

Andrew nodded. “Any mortal like us could go that route, use drugs to keep the voices out of our heads.”

The psychically gifted with no natural shielding, he meant. The lucky ones were found by vampires before they cracked, but there were no vampires in the city limits of Washington to find this lost soul. “How sad.”

Another nod. “Finally figured out that the poor guy was sensing our presence, and it freaked him. Didn’t take but a whisper to get him calmed down enough to get him at least a little help. No saving him, though.” Andrew’s sadness returned in a dark rush that nearly overwhelmed Sara.

“It was good of you to do what you could.”

He looked her in the eyes. “That’s another of my problems.”

She couldn’t breathe for a moment, not until he looked away. Sara drew a shaky breath. Her heart raced. “What is—your problem?”

Andrew rose and offered her his hand. “Let’s go for a walk.”

She almost forgot her cell phone on the table, but Andrew scooped it up and handed it to her. “Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with your boss.”

She thought she was already in trouble. She knew what his other problem was. Andrew was nice. She wasn’t going to bring it up; it must be terribly embarrassing for him. She did want to know how a nice man had become a vampire, and how he’d stayed that way, and why that contributed to a death wish when there was so much good he could do with the powers his psychic talent had let him be reborn with.

She almost slipped and asked, How’d a nice man like you become a vampire? simply for the awkward having-something-to-say-facetiousness of it as he led her toward a crosswalk. Instead, she asked, “Where do you want to walk to?”

He seemed both eager and nervous when he answered,
“Do you like Georgetown?” He stopped as they reached the sidewalk on Dupont Circle. “What am I thinking? That’s too far for a mortal to walk, isn’t it?” He turned toward busy traffic moving around the Circle.

“Georgetown?” she asked as he hailed a cab. “Why?”

“I used to live there. Think I’d like to see if my wife’s house is still there,” he added as a cab came to a halt in front of them.

“Wife? You have a wife?” She heard her voice go up into a silly, outraged squeak.

A hand on her elbow urged her forward. She got in and slid to the other side of the backseat. As Andrew got in beside her, he added, “I told you I was from around here.”

“
I
HAVEN’T BROUGHT anyone home for a while.”

“You didn’t bring me,” Olympias pointed out. “I drove.” She found his being diffident as they stood at the top of the steps of his townhouse rather adorable. She hadn’t expected a big, confident sort like him to go all shy on her. She liked being surprised, it happened so rarely.

The touch of his hand on her elbow as he ushered her toward his front door was delicate, his attitude civilized, even slightly embarrassed. She felt his thoughts that it was rather silly and odd for a man his age to be indulging in a one-night stand. But he wanted her all right. His thoughts were civilized, but his emotions were a storm of lust. It wasn’t anything she’d done to him. Chemistry rather than telepathy was involved here. It pleased her to know that his desire came from within himself. He wanted her. It pleased her, flattered her, disarmed her, even.

And she certainly wanted him. His aura, his touch, even the sound of his voice, sizzled through her. It was a pleasantly refreshing sensation for a jaded old bird like
her. It was a mortal kind of desire, this wanting of his flesh for purposes other than feasting. She missed mortal sensation. All this living at an acutely psychic level wore one down sometimes.

“This is fun,” she said and kissed him again. They’d been making out pretty heavily at every stoplight on the way over, and she and the soldier boy were as disheveled as they were hot and bothered. She’d taken him outside for a little tête-à-tête for Lora’s sake. She meant to mind-rape the poor bastard and go about her business. Instead he’d touched her, a simple brush of his fingers against her cheek and throat, their gazes had met—and they’d ended up here.

“This is no way for grown-ups to act,” he answered when she stopped kissing him long enough to let him catch his breath. His hands made more of a mess of her dress while he added, “Maybe we better get in off the street before the neighbors notice.”

“They won’t notice,” she assured him as he turned away long enough to unlock the door. “But let’s get horizontal somewhere comfortable.” Simple passion this might be, but she’d never done it in doorways. Queens and vampires learned to watch their backs. Never do anything distracting in a place where you might be vulnerable.

His picking her up and spinning them into the front hall like a pair of newlyweds crossing a threshold caught her totally by surprise. The gesture caught her even more off guard than his almost immortal speed. She was surprised by the house as well when he put her down in the front hall. The only light he turned on lit the staircase at the end of the narrow hallway. Her colonel had called the place home. His presence permeated it, soul, spirit, and dreams, and had for a long time. This was not some place he’d leased for the duration of a tour of duty. “You were born here.”

He didn’t seem surprised by what she’d said. “I’ve lived here on and off my whole life,” he answered.

Interesting.

“Maybe this would be a good time for introductions,” he added, putting his arm around her shoulders and urging her toward the stairs.

“You know who I am,” she said. “Mike—”

“Falconer.”

Even more interesting.

“Really?”

“It’s not an uncommon name.”

“I have heard it a couple of times recently.”

“Really? Where?”

She almost stopped this little escapade right then, but he touched her cheek with the back of his hand, all the while giving her a sweet, curious smile that sent a fresh jolt of heat through her jaded senses. Instead she gave a throaty, sexy chuckle, and said, “Never mind.”

She slipped her arm around his waist and pulled him up the stairs.

“I shouldn’t be saying this, but—your blood smells really great, you know?”

“Uh—thanks.” Sara did not know what to think of Andrew’s words. On the one hand no one had ever said that to her before. On the other hand, no vampire should pay her such a compliment, and not only because it wasn’t true. If she had a third hand, she might consider the ramifications of someone on the not exactly empty Georgetown street overhearing them. There were lights on in most of the townhouses they passed, lots of traffic in the street, but she supposed they were private enough. Being overheard was fine for him—Andrew was planning on exiting this mortal and immortal coil.

“I know you have an arrangement with the Hunter,” he went on. “But I wanted you to know. Sorry.”

He was being far too gentlemanly in calling what she had with Olympias an arrangement. She wasn’t sure what she resented more at this moment, the truth, or Andrew’s kindness in disguising it. He did not look deathly pale
when they stopped to stand beneath the glow of a streetlamp. He was such an attractive young man, even with his unfashionably long hair and brooding expression. His eyes were large and dark, quite thickly fringed with long lashes. She felt magic when she looked into them. There didn’t seem to be anything particularly otherworldly about him. He seemed like such a nice man, though he talked about blood, her blood, as though it were a sweet perfume.

“That’s all right,” she said. “I—”

“The world is very strange, I know,” he interrupted, catching her thoughts.

“Our world—”

“Your world.” His expression turned harsh, bitter. “I’m out of here as soon as it can be arranged.”

“I—”

“You can’t imagine why anyone would want to die, can you?”

“Will you let me get a word in?” She should have fear, or at least cautious respect for him, he was a vampire, but Sara found herself wanting to stomp her foot in frustration, preferably on top of one of his grimy athletic shoes.

He looked like he was about to say something, then he smiled and put a finger over his lips instead.

Fine. Good. He was going to let her get in a few words. But what did she want to say, and why was it important that she talk to this suicidal vampire?

Why do you want to know why, you mean?

Telepathy is cheating. It’s still talking. Out of my head!
she ordered. Frankly, there was nothing deep and dark and tortured about his touch in her mind. She felt gentleness, amusement—fondness? For who? Her? He didn’t feel insane. She grabbed Andrew by the arm and tugged him deeper into the darkness. He could pull shadows around him. She needed to rely on the tall bushes in front of one of the houses to provide them with more cover from the lights of passing traffic.

She pulled him closer, grabbing him by the front of his shirt this time. “First off, bub, I’m not a vampire, never going to be one—so stop referring to our world when you talk to me. I work for a vampire, and believe me, from the outside I am painfully aware of all the advantages your kind have over my kind. You have amazing powers. You have immortality. You have the power of life and death over us measly little mortal creatures. You could rule the world if you bloody well wanted to. You can have all the wealth and power and slaves and worshipers you—”

“You called me ‘bub.’ ”

“Did I? Who cares? Don’t interrupt me in mid—”

“Diatribe,” Andrew finished, annoyingly.

“Tirade,” she corrected.

“Whatever you say, sister.”

“Sister?”

Andrew smiled. She knew the sight of mating fangs even when she only caught a faint glimpse of them in the night.

“Well!” she said, and tried to back away. His hands were on her waist, and his eyes looked compellingly into hers. He wasn’t letting her go anywhere, and she didn’t really want to.

She knew this was getting them nowhere, but she hadn’t felt so alive in years. She realized how close they were to each other, and how close they were to something happening between them. She’d never felt her blood race like this, never felt the air sizzle and crackle in a way that made her hair stand on end and sensitized her skin in a way that intimately caressed her even though she knew she wasn’t being touched. She’d never felt this flare of insatiable hunger, not even the one time Olympias had—

“You don’t belong to her,” Andrew said.

She did. “I do.” What difference did it make to him anyway? “You’re the one who wants to die,” she added. “Do you want to take me with you?”

“Of course not. I—want to take you.”

His last words came out slowly, full of diffidence and embarrassment. She absorbed his emotions, keeping herself from blurting out that she wanted him as well.

Andrew sighed, said, “Come on,” and then he pulled her deeper into the shadows. They ended up on a bench deep in a mansion’s back garden. His hands and mouth were all over her. It was wonderful and frightening at once. Sara only barely managed to keep her hands off of him. She couldn’t help but respond to a long, deep kiss, but she didn’t move. His weight covered her and the heat of his body permeated her; his touch roused even more heat, but Sara dug her nails into her palms and didn’t move. She didn’t realize she’d drawn blood until he slowly opened her fists and touched his tongue to the crescent cuts in her palms.

“Perfume,” he whispered as he tasted each droplet of blood. “Like roses.”

An orgasm shivered through her, along with an image of blood red roses. She felt him absorbing her emotions, and didn’t care, knowing he took only what she’d let him arouse in her. Was this anywhere near what it was like to be a companion?

The thought hit her so hard she started to cry. Andrew knew her pain as well, and took it, sucked it up with as much fervor as he had her pleasure.

“Parasite,” she heard herself whisper. “Monster.”

“Yes,” he whispered back. He kept caressing her. “Do you want it to stop?”

No. Of course she didn’t. “I don’t make personal choices.” Because she was having trouble controlling her breathing, the words didn’t come out as coherently as she’d have liked, but she knew Andrew understood her anyway.