“She won’t be buried,” he tells me solemnly. “There will be no funeral. Otherwise there would be questions, questions we can’t answer. Like who stabbed her. You can blame Poe, but it won’t look that way to them. Besides, this is just her body. Not her soul. Her soul is already at peace. I can tell.”
“How do you know?” I sniff.
“I know. Now please, let me do this.”
I exhale, holding my arms tightly, body still trembling. “Okay.”
I watch as he steps into the black and white world, pulling Elle along with him. Then he steps out and the flames disappear.
The hall goes back to normal.
And Elle is gone.
All that’s left is the blood.
“She’ll be reported missing soon,” Solon tells me. “We need to get into the messages you’ve sent with her and erase them. Ezra can do that. That’s why we keep him around.”
“What about the blood?” I ask numbly.
He eyes the crimson pool on the floor and then looks to me, brow raised. “We get rid of it,” he says simply.
My teeth grind against each other, a sick feeling in my stomach. “No,” I say shaking my head.
“You can do it,” he suggests.
I shake my head in quiet revulsion. “It should be me. But I can’t. I can’t.”
“Then you might not want to watch this,” he says, getting down on all fours in front of the pool of blood.
“Solon,” I gasp. “You can’t possibly…”
“I’m a fucking vampire!” he roars at me, his eyes going a shade of crimson. “Turn around!”
Shaking, I do as he says, pinching my eyes shut, placing my hands over my ears so I don’t hear anything I don’t want to.
A few moments later I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder.
I turn, looking up at Solon. He looks the same, except his eyes are much brighter. There’s not a drop of blood on him, nor anywhere else in the apartment.
“We need to leave,” he says to me, reaching down and taking my hand. “We could go through the—”
“No,” I say abruptly. “I’m not going in there if she’s in there. We go back like normal people.”
He gives me a stiff smile. “Okay.”
We leave my apartment, stepping out into the sunshine, both of us putting our sunglasses on, wincing at the light, and start the walk back to the house, a couple of vampires.
Chapter Seventeen
I am numb with grief.
I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting in Dark Eyes for, but it feels like forever. After we walked back from my apartment, Solon took me straight down here and gave me a glass and a carafe of bourbon.
I appreciated the alcohol, but asked him to leave me alone.
He did, hesitating only slightly.
So I’m drunk. And I’m alone.
I’ve been this way for hours.
And I keep replaying everything over and over again in my head. Down here, there’s nothing to distract me from what just happened, I’m trapped in my own mind, drowning in my own guilt.
Elle is dead because of me.
That’s the truth of it.
It was my fault that Atlas found me, my fault that he killed her. I could tell he didn’t even mean to, that he acted out of panic, thinking perhaps it was a vampire walking through that door. But he was there because I was.
I shake my head, expecting the tears to keep falling, but I’m all cried out. All that’s left is my heart, waterlogged, weighing me down until I feel like I’ll never be able to move again.
My only friend.
Gone.
The last tie to normality I had.
A girl that had such a bright future ahead of her, friends and lovers and family, she had it all…she should have had it all. She should have been able to have all the things I’ll never have.
Instead, she’s dead. Gone. Her body rotting in the Black Sunshine.
I feel like the wrong girl got killed.
Eventually, I get to my feet, swaying slightly, needing to run away from this, but knowing I can’t. I can’t run away from myself, can’t run away from what’s done.
I can escape though.
Just for a bit.
And the alcohol isn’t cutting it.
I walk out of Dark Eyes, the doors closing behind me, and head up the stairs.
I don’t stop until I get to the very top floor, and knock on Solon’s door.
He opens it, eyes raking over me.
He doesn’t say anything at first, just opens the door wider, and I step inside, enveloped by the darkness of his room, then turn to face him.
He’s got on dark grey jeans, is in the midst of buttoning up a black shirt that fits him like a glove, his chest beneath so hard and powerful. With his hair in perfect black waves by his face, plus the darkness of the room, his eyes seem extra blue and mesmerizing.
“Where are you going?” I whisper.
He continues to button his shirt. “I thought I would go out and get you something to eat. Real food. You must be starving.”
“No,” I say quietly, a slight shake of my head. “I can’t eat.” I swallow, my throat raw from screaming and crying. “I can’t think. I can’t escape.”
I walk to him and place my hand over his, curl my fingers around his palm to stop him from buttoning his shirt. I stare up at him, searching his eyes as his shadowed eyes search mine.
“Fuck me,” I whisper.
He inhales sharply through his nose, a line etched between his brows, his pupils widening. “I can’t,” he eventually says, though his expression says otherwise.
“Tell me why.”
“Lenore…”
“Tell me,” I demand.
He closes his eyes, breathing in deeply. He slowly shakes his head, licks his lips. “I—”
“Don’t tell me you can’t again. Amethyst told me that you’ve slept with plenty of woman here in the city.”
“Amethyst,” he growls, looking away.
“Hey,” I say, reaching up and placing my fingers on his chin, making him look at me. This brings another flare to his nose, a curl to his lips. He doesn’t like to be directed, but I don’t fucking care. “If it’s me, then just tell me the truth. I can handle it.”
He swallows thickly, his eyes dropping to my lips. “It is you.”
“Oh.” My heart feels like Atlas stuck the blade all the way in.
I look down at my hands, curled possessively at his shirt. I don’t want to be this person, especially if I’m not what he wants.
I bring my hands away from him, feeling numb, turn to the door, needing yet another escape. Always running away.
He reaches out and grabs my elbow. “Wait,” he says sharply, his fingers digging into my skin. “Wait,” he says again, voice softer now.
He pulls me back to him, stares down at me with wild eyes, his jaw tight, breathing heavily. His grip tightens. “Not that it’s anyone’s business, especially not Amethyst’s, but the woman I sleep with don’t mean anything to me.” He inhales, forehead furrowed. “You mean something to me, Lenore. And that’s a problem.”
My heart has skipped a few beats already. “How is that a problem? You sleep with women you don’t respect, but you respect me and—”
“This isn’t about respect,” he says gruffly, pulling me to him until I’m pressed up against his chest, his other hand going to the small of my back. He fastens my body to his, until I feel every inch of how hard he is. “I respected those women too, believe it or not.”
“Then what is it about?” I ask in a hush, so confused.
He presses his lips together, frowning, his eyes looking haunted. “There’s more to me than you know, Lenore. There’s a part of me that could hurt you.”
“I know that. You’re a vampire.”
He closes his eyes and exhales heavily, his breath smelling like sweet wine.
“It’s not just that. There’s…a darkness that lives inside me. That’s been there for my w
hole life as I know it. A darkness that has led to madness and back again. A darkness that feeds a beast. I can’t risk unleashing that beast with you.”
When his eyes open again, I see more than just pain in their blue depths. I see a dark figure with claws, and big, wide black wings that blot out the sun. Something beautiful and horrifying. But I feel no fear.
I take my free hand and reach up, placing it against his cheek. “Then I will tame the beast.”
He stares at me, and from the intensity of his gaze, I can’t tell if he thinks I’m stupid or if he’s impressed. Then he takes my hand and brings it to his mouth, placing a long, soft kiss on the palm of my hand, eyes never breaking contact. It feels like a fuse being lit, igniting my blood, rushing up my veins to my heart.
“You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” he whispers against my hand.
“I know I want you. There’s nothing else.”
He lets out a low rumble from his chest, his eyes flashing with desire.
“Oh, Christ,” he swears.
Then he’s grabbing my face with both hands, kissing me with such ferocity, such passion, that I nearly fall backward, my knees buckling.
He keeps me upright, one arm going around my lower back, the other gripping my face as his lips move against mine, mouth open, licking my tongue with his.
Fuck. Me.
Fireworks explode down my spine, spurring on my hunger for him, a tangle of tongues that feels as close to fucking as possible, something deep and raw. His mouth ravages mine, a hot, hard messy whirl of lips, tongue, teeth. It’s unraveling me more and more by the second, the way he so expertly owns me already, our kiss deepening into parts of me I didn’t even know existed.
I gasp against his lips, my hands traveling up the hard, wide expanse of his back, trying to claw the shirt off him, feeling feral, an animal on the loose.
He pulls away and for a moment I think he’s going to change his mind or chastise me for trying to ruin another shirt. Fingers press into my cheekbones, his mouth open and wet, and when I stare into his eyes, I see a man on the verge of losing all control.
Please, please, come over the edge with me.
The corner of his mouth lifts for a second, showing that he heard my thoughts.
“I’m not going to be gentle,” he says hoarsely, breathing hard. The sharp, intoxicating tang of his adrenaline and desire fills my nose.
“I don’t want you to be gentle,” I say, digging my nails into his back. “I want to feel everything you have for me.”
“Fuck,” he says gruffly, grabbing my chin with hard fingers, searching my eyes with something like amazement. “You’re going to be my ruin, aren’t you?”
Then he’s kissing me again, moving me backward until the back of my thighs hit the bed and I sit down.
He steps back, taking off his shirt, unbuttoning his jeans, shoving them down along with his boxer briefs and socks. He’s completely naked in front of me, his cock jutting straight up, hard as stone and impressive, enough that I’m almost salivating, my body hit with a sharp pang of need.
He truly is the most perfect-looking man.
Vampire.
Whatever he is, he’s mine for the moment.
I reach down to take off my sweater, but he gives a shake of his head.
“You’ve been doing that enough. Lie back on the bed,” he commands.
I do as I’m told, heart in my throat as he prowls over me, his fingers curling around the hem of my sweater as he slowly pulls it up over my skin, goosebumps forming as he plants kisses on each section he exposes.
My heart flutters, skips. Heat builds between my legs, waiting for him.
He brings the sweater up over my head and arms, his head between my breasts as he reaches behind my back to unhook my bra. A vein running across the fullness of my breasts catches his attention, nostrils flaring as he breathes me, running the tip of his nose over my sensitive skin.
I gasp, my breasts swelling under his touch, his lips gently brushing over me as he pulls the bra away. My nipples are already in hardened peaks and he eyes them with a throaty growl before he starts licking up the side of my breast, his tongue flat and wide, his gaze locked with mine as he moves. Then he covers my nipple with his mouth, sucking me in.
Biting me.
Just for a second.
Just a pinch.
I gasp, my body stiffening from the pain as it quickly dissipates, his lips and tongue now soothing the spot, swirling around my nipple until I’m squirming underneath him.
“Sorry,” he murmurs against my skin.
I lift my head to glance down at him, and he doesn’t seem very sorry at all. A wicked look gleams in his eyes, a hint of my blood on his lips, my chest rising and falling against him.
“Do it again,” I tell him.
His brows raise in surprise, but there’s no hesitation after that. He attacks my other breast with his mouth, biting down, sucking at my skin.
“Fuck,” I cry out, my head going back. His teeth pierce the skin, but it’s a surface scratch more than anything and, like before, he’s licking the pain away with his broad, rough tongue. I make a fist in his black satin sheets, lost to the pleasure and pain, an intricate dance that only makes me want more.
Then he brings his mouth up to mine. I taste the tang of my own blood, just a bit of it, then he’s sinking his tongue deep inside until I’m melting further and further into the bed, succumbing to his kiss, body and soul.
I had no idea it would be like this. That it could be like this.
He pulls away, my lips open, tingling and yearning for him to return, my hand running through his thick, silky hair, marveling at it, that I can touch him this way, every way.
Slowly, with deliberation, he starts moving back over my collarbones, over my breasts, over my abdomen, placing wet, languid kisses as he moves down, a path that sets my skin on fire.
He stares up at me as he goes and I look into his eyes and in them I see a man caught between angel and beast, and maybe that’s what a vampire is. All I know is that right now, perhaps in this moment only, he adores me, reveres me.
I am his.
And I am safe.
Then his gaze burns hot as he grips the waistband of my leggings and underwear, peeling them off me with smooth precision, down over my hips, my thighs, my knees, discarding them to the floor, my feet already bare.
The sight of his face, that gorgeous, dangerous, perfect face between my legs makes my whole body start to tremble, waiting for him, wanting him, needing him. Bursts of hunger lash through me, and I’m not sure how patient I can be.
Meanwhile, for all his talk of not being gentle, he’s acting like he has all the time in the world. Maybe because he does.
He comes up between me, my legs parting for him, his large hands spanning the width of my thighs, showcasing how large they are. I’m not a delicate flower, but in his grip I feel like I am.
Long, slow kisses are placed inside my knees, up my inner thighs, his stubble scratching me, and I’m gasping again, the blood rushing too fast through my veins.
“I need you inside of me.” I’m practically whimpering, trapping him between my legs.
“This isn’t for you,” he says as he slides up, eyes never leaving mine, even with his face between my thighs. “This is for me.”
I close my eyes and inhale sharply, my nerves on high alert. He brings his mouth up to my pussy, pausing there. I can feel the cold of his presence, his breath, but he’s not touching me.
Holy fuck, what are you doing? I think.
Taking my time, he says inside my head, his voice so low and rich it settles into the base of my skull and unravels me a little more. Don’t forget who’s in charge here.
I grin at that, almost laughing, my heart leaping in my chest, my thighs gripping the sides of his head, as my hands make fists in his hair.
But he’s still taking his fucking time. He’s just breathing on me, blowing on me, and fuck, fuck, fuck.
I’m close to coming already.
This isn’t fair.
He isn’t even touching me this time.
Then he angles his head so his cold breath spans the length of me, sending waves through my skin, making me shudder, making that ache reach the breaking point.
Holy god.
Swiftly, he covers my clit with his mouth and I yelp, unintelligible sounds falling from my gaping mouth and he’s licking me, sucking me and fucking hell, I’m coming already.
“Shit!” I cry out, yanking at his hair. I’m bucking my hips against his mouth while the rest of me is blown glass, shattering. A million jeweled pieces thrown into the universe.
He devours me, literally, as my body quakes, shaking the bed, his hands gripping my thighs, keeping them spread until I’m spent.
Boneless.
Breathless.
Speechless.
“Well,” he says, lifting his head. “You didn’t give me a lot of time to enjoy myself. Sensitive little thing, aren’t you?”
I can’t even respond, I’m still chasing my breath, my hands dropping away from his hair and making fists in the sheets again.
In a flash, he’s on top of me, the quick movement taking me off-guard, like a mouse caught when the cat pounces.
A breath of surprise is caught in my throat while he pins my wrists above my head with one hand and straddles me, big strong muscular thighs on either side of mine.
He leans down, kissing me, wet and messy, but still soft. A sense of teasing that deepens as I open my mouth to him, letting him in, letting him consume me, because that’s all I want, to be consumed.
Take me, take all of me.
With one hand on my wrists, binding them together, he brings the other to his cock, rubbing it against my clit, so slick and wet and I’m crying out again, dying from my need for him. Fingertips reach down, stroking over me until I’m seconds from coming.
You’re going to be a handful, he says in a low, rough voice in my head, taking his hand away.
But I don’t have a reply to that. My brain has been wiped clean of all thought.
I arch my back, wanting, needing, aching.
“Fuck,” he grumbles.
And then he pushes himself inside me with one sharp thrust.
Black Sunshine Page 24
