The Bloodline War (23 page)

Oh, he was feeling something now. Everything. Too much. He parted his lips as he stared down into Toni’s eyes, feeling their probing effect deep in his belly. He did want to unsheathe his fangs in front of this woman, wanted it more than life, to relish the throbbing hunger he’d feel, the raw pulse of desire. Which meant he was heading up shit creek fast
sans
paddle. “Look—” He edged around her and crossed to his wet bar, putting some much-needed space between them. “It’s a bad idea, Toni, I’m telling you. Fangs…showing you my fangs would be like an intimacy between us.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake. Your fangs extrude when you fight, don’t they? That’s not intimate.”

“It’s different with a woman. Just because I
can
elongate my fangs without the usual stimulations, doesn’t mean I don’t feel anything.”
Especially
with you.

She crossed her arms tightly in front of her and glowered at him for a small eternity. When he didn’t budge, her lips moved in a silent curse. “Fine.” Spinning around, she grabbed the doorknob. “I’ll just go ask one of your brothers to show me.”

He didn’t know what happened. One second he was watching her pull open the door, and the next he was
at
the door, slamming it shut to keep her from leaving his room to go find one of his punk-ass brothers. He stared down at her with burning eyes, his breath rushing in and out of his nostrils like steam hissing from an overheated pot. A raw possessiveness he’d never felt before ate a hole straight through the bottom of his stomach.

“It’s okay,” she assured him quietly,
she
all of a sudden the calm one. “I’ll be very clinical about it.” She peeled his hand off the door and led him toward his desk. “The total doctor at all times.” She placed her palms on his shoulders, pushing him down into his desk chair, then stepped between the vee created by his splayed thighs.

A low, guttural growl broke from his throat.

“It’s okay,” she repeated, and bent over him, her blouse gaping open to gift him with the most spectacular view of full, soft cleavage that existed on earth, making everything most-fucking-definitely
not
okay. The armrests of his chair were shaped like a cello’s neck and he curled his fingers around the fancy swirls, gripping them hard. He wasn’t going to make it through this.

“Tilt your head back,” she directed, ducking her own head at the same time to peer into his mouth.

A rivulet of sweat glided down between his shoulder blades.

“I’m going to touch you now.” She edged his upper lip back with her thumb.

The gentleness of her touch rocked him down to the seat of his pants. He slid his eyes away from her, his heart trying to break past the cage of his ribs.

She straightened a bit, checking eyes with him, her fingertips resting at his lip. “They’re hollow.”

He had to swallow twice before he could speak. “They’re supposed to be hollow. That’s where the Fiinţă comes from.”

“Oh. Yes, that makes sense.” Her breasts moved up and down beneath her blouse. “Can you elongate them now?”

A sensation crept up the back of his tight throat. He wasn’t sure what it was: eagerness, fear, anticipation, alarm…lust?
Definitely
that, for blood. For
her
. “I think…I’m back to thinking this is a bad idea.” He latched his gaze onto the long, elegant vein in her neck, counting each pulse beat there.

“Do you want to smell me,” she asked softly, “to make it easier?”

No
. His heart thumped.
Yes
.

Without waiting for an answer, she lifted her wrist to his nose. He went rigid as the perfume of her blood slammed into him like brass knuckles to the stomach, a deep moan spilling out of his chest. He’d been somewhat safe from her scent ever since she’d started wearing the mud, able to tolerate her…barely. But this close she smelled
exceptional
, like life’s essential elements, tangy earth and sweet water and crystal air.

Turning his head toward her, he nuzzled the soft skin of her inner wrist, pulling her scent deeply into his lungs then exhaling it past his lips. He began to shake with the feverish urge to feed on her. And then there they were. His fangs slid out of his gums slick as ivory, pulsing to the steady drumbeat of his heart. No…
hers
.

“Oh, my God,” she gasped. She leaned in closer, somebody help him, and gently parted his lips. Exploring one of his fangs with her thumb and forefinger, she tested how deeply rooted it was, how sharp.

She tried to be clinical, he’d give her credit for that, but there was just no getting around the effect her touch had on him. Her hand was electricity itself, the crackling heat of it passing right from her into him, racing the length of his limbs and then landing in his crotch. Thunder roared in his ears as blood rushed in the direction of his cock.
Oh
.
Fuck
. He braced himself against the inevitable agonizing back-surge that would come when that river of desire hit the dam which was built into every unmated Vârcolac’s plumbing.

When it hit, the pain of it forced a short howl out of him. He’d never felt anything so awful—and good—in his life.

Toni straightened and stared down on him.

He stared back at her, breathing as heavily as if he’d just been fighting for his life with an Om Rău. His body burned with a dangerous combination of lusts: blood hunger and the primitive desire to pound savagely between her legs. He flexed his fingers around the armrests of his chair to keep from grabbing for her.

One bite,
one
, and then he could be inside her.

“Your fangs are
real
.” She looked at him like, yes, Santa Claus did exist, but he and his elves really made Snuff Films in their workshop instead of toys. She spun on her heel and marched for his wet bar, plunking her elbows on the countertop and then burying her face in her hands.

He stared at her profile for several long seconds. “What…now?” Chrissake, was that his voice? It sounded like he’d dredged it up from a dungeon.

“I need a drink.” She abruptly walked around to the other side of the bar and crouched down, rummaging noisily through the cupboards. “Damn it, don’t you have any booze around here?”

“There’s, uh, beer in the mini fridge.” He shifted carefully in the chair, very aware of the blood still loitering in the vicinity of his cock.

She thrust rigidly to her feet, her hands landing on her hips again. “That’s
it
?”

“I don’t drink hard alcohol.”

She scowled at him. “Life as I know it just sort of went
sayonara
, Jaċken. I need something a little stronger than beer.”

Yeah, okay, from here on out, he’d keep an emergency bottle of J&B stashed away because this totally sucked. She—

Whoa, something just happened to her expression. She was eyeing him with distinct speculation in her gaze now, her eyes aimed right at his…his
mouth
! He gave in to a spurt of alarm. If he’d had any hair on his body, every follicle would’ve been standing on end. As it was, his neck hairs were at full salute.

“You know what,” she mused. “If I’m heading down the booby hatch, anyway, I might as well go all the way, right?” She started toward him at a rapid clip.

He leapt to his feet, the chair crashing to the floor behind him, his feet tangling in the rungs as he scrambled to get away from her. He backed up at a near run.

She matched him step for step, pursuing him right into the corner.

He pressed his spine into the wall, even going up on his toes to get as far away from her as possible.

“Do you mind telling me,” he croaked out, “what’s going on?”

“Bite me.” Not as in,
screw you
, but in the good way.

His mouth went slack.

“The Dragons said that Fiinţă gives pleasure, and I want to know what it’s like.”

Sweat rolled into his eyelashes and he blinked at it, struggling to make some kind of coherent sound come off his vocal chords. A denial would be good at this point.

“Do you realize how long it’s been since I’ve felt any sort of pleasure?” she came at him in a tone that sounded accusing, like
he
should be in the penalty box for that.

“I haven’t had a boyfriend,” she went on, still hard and attacking, “for a year, and I had to
fake
with him!”

Did he want to know about that? No. Maybe a little. The suck-o part, at least.

“Jaċken—”

“Stop talking,” he barked at her. “Vârcolac don’t have flings, Toni. I can’t just…give you pleasure without bonding to you. Permanently.” Never had a single word sounded so fatal.

“Okay.” No sooner had she spoken than her cheeks pinkened. She looked like she wanted to glance over her shoulder to see who’d actually said that.

His mouth, meanwhile, had dropped into full fly-catcher mode again. “Have you gone insane?!”

She offered up a laugh that cracked at the end. “I think we’ve already determined that.”

“Jesus, even if I wanted to take advantage of your temporary idiocy, I couldn’t.” He worked his jaw once. “I’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”

“You’ve taken a…?
Why
?” She stared at him with a whole lot of
you dolt
showing in her expression.

He clenched his teeth briefly. “Because that was the only way I could stay in Ţărână, that’s why. Half-Rău bloodlines like mine don’t mix well with Vârcolac DNA—or with Dragons’, either, for that matter. Peak 12 skyrockets in both situations. So we three Brun Brothers were allowed to live here only if we promised never to let our tainted lineage into the community. We took the damned vow, of course.”

“But…?” Her blonde brows closed in on each other. “Can’t you just agree not to have children?”

“Mistakes happen, even with Vârcolac males, who can scent their mate’s fertile time. And vasectomies screw up our testosterone, for some weird-ass reason that even Dr. Jess can’t figure out. So, that’s it.” He chopped his hand through the air. “No women.”

She hesitated still.

He could tell that she was trying to be brave about it and accept what he was saying, but her eyes gave her away. Their blue depths were clouded with such an unbearable disappointment that now
he
wanted a bottle of J&B. Not to drink, but to crack over his head and escape this totally fucked situation.

He glanced away, his voice dropping into his chest. “You once accused me of hating women. I
don’t
, Toni. Not by a long shot. But because I can never be with one, it’s just too painful to be around them.” He looked at her again. “Can you understand that?”

“I—” A small contraction of pain crossed her features and her voice dropped to a near whisper. “Very well. I won’t bother you again.” She grabbed the knob, but then just stared at the back of the door for a long moment. “You know, the same life of loneliness stretches ahead of me, too, Jaċken. You may not think so, but it does.” Her eyelashes moved against her cheeks. “I don’t have anyone to love, either.”

His throat filled with lead. He made himself say it, though. He had to concentrate like hell to form the words, but he did it. “There are tons of other men in this community, Toni, great men, who—”

“No.” She turned her head to look at him, her eyes filled with such a tender ache that the floor dropped away from beneath his feet. “No other men.” She walked out and closed the door gently in his face, leaving him with nothing to do but stare at the spot where she’d just been, his soul screaming the loss of her with a sudden, debilitating defeat.

Chapter Twenty-five

The scene was unreal.

Toni stood with her toes squishing in the sand and took it all in, feeling like she had no idea where she was, and not for the first time since her arrival in Ţărână. A tropical jungle and water cliffs in the middle of a cave half a mile beneath the earth’s surface?
Come on
. How much more was she expected to take, really?

A beautiful white sand beach spread out before her, complete with palm trees, ferns, tropical plants, and moss covering a panoramic out-cropping of the cave wall. This lush greenery, all fake, of course, provided the backdrop for a spectacular array of waterfalls, fountains, and slides splashing cheerfully into pools of various shapes and sizes. Off to the right, several mini geysers spurted periodically, much to the delight of a group of squealing children. The whole scene could’ve been photo-shopped right off of a travel agency poster for the perfect Rio de Janeiro vacation, including the gorgeous, half-naked people frolicking about. Although the display of dragon tattoos among the blondes also gave it a new wave, live art exhibition feel.

Toni still couldn’t quite get used to how incredible those tattoos were. The dragon adorned the entire span of the back, shimmering green scales on the body and wings, red scales on the belly, claws, and mouth. The head arched over the left scapula, the wings extended out over the right, the tail curved down to the lower back, and the feet extended out to the left of the spine. The dragon had a fierce look to it, with its claws and teeth bared, but also elegance, the creature giving the impression of graceful flight.

“Amazing, huh?” Kasson popped up at her side, having just finished spreading their picnic blanket out on the sand. Shirtless, he was dressed in a pair of Reef flip-flops and a Billabong bathing suit. The outfit, along with the cowlick in his light brown hair, turned him into the epitome of the California surfer dude. Even his skin tone was surprisingly honey-colored, the result of being a Dragon rather than a Pure-bred, from what she understood.

“Maggie designed the Water Cliffs,” he went on. “You know, the curly-haired one? She’s the horticulturist. “

“Yes, I know Maggie.”

“And her husband, Luken, built it for her…for the community. That’s another one of the cool things about living here, Toni. When you put your skills to use, everyone really appreciates everything you do. Hey, look”—Kasson pointed toward the water—“there are the Costaches.”