by Elle Jasper
We fought. She was strong as hell, but I swept her legs out from under her and she fell again. This time, I pinned her throat with my foot, retrieved one of my blades, and held it to her face. “Chill,” I instructed.
Opaque eyes stared crazed up at me. She didn’t move. I glanced over at Eli. His face had contorted. Both almost-newlings were out cold.
Noah and Phin burst out of the exit door and ran to us. “I’ve already called Garr’s guys,” Noah said. They’re on their way.”
Eli, his face returned to normal—well, at least my normal—locked his gaze on mine. “You okay?”
I glanced down at the girl, whose face looked murderous, inhuman. I pressed my foot a little harder into her throat. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
By the time the ruckus finally wrapped up, it was close to four a.m. Garr’s guys came to collect the three, and we ran the roofs till nearly dawn before heading back to the battery. We encountered no further rogue vampires, no further newlings or those in the quickening, and although I wanted them off the streets, I was glad. Exhaustion began its descent, and I wanted nothing more than to crash. We said good-bye to Noah and his group, split, and headed to Jake’s.
Inside, my brother grabbed my arm. “Are you okay, Ri? Seriously?” Seth asked. “You don’t look so good.”
“Sure, squirt. I’m cool. Just tired. See ya in a bit, huh?”
He nodded. “I’m not tired yet, so I’ll hang with Josie down here. Call me if you need me, though.” He glanced at Eli, who stood directly behind me. “Take care of my sister.”
“I will,” Eli said gently. “I got her.”
I gave my sweet brother a smile and trudged up the stairs, Eli’s hand resting possessively against the small of my back the whole way up. With each step I wondered how in hell I’d made it through the night, jumping from buildings like a freaking monkey, fight after fight. Adrenaline had obviously kept me going. Well, that had worn off now, and I felt like Indiana Jones after one of his big fights. I hurt everywhere. Now that the action was over, I felt like a wet noodle. I needed a shower, then rest. I made it to my room and pushed inside.
“I’ll be right back,” Eli said. “I need a word with my brothers. For just a few minutes.”
“Okay,” I answered, my tongue feeling heavy in my mouth. Eli left out, and I scanned my room—Jake’s room.
Lamplight from the riverfront streamed in through my balcony door, casting a narrow beam across the floor. I eased to the bench at the foot of the bed and sat down softly, pushed my Vans off with each opposite foot, peeled my socks off, and just . . . sat for a second. Every muscle, every joint, even my skin ached. Slowly, I shrugged out of my tank, stood and peeled off my jeans, and dropped them on the floor. With my blades still sheathed to my various body parts, and in only my bra and panties, I hobbled to the balcony door, opened it, and stepped out onto the veranda. A slight breeze lifted my ponytail, and I reached up, pulled off the elastic band holding it together, and let my hair down. Overhead, thunder boomed; a few seconds later, a streak of lightning lit the sky. Red blinking lights flashed in the harbor as shrimp boats and fishing boats headed out to sea. As the briny breeze caught the palm fronds, they crackled, rubbing against one another. I let the sounds and smells and sights of normalcy wash over me. I leaned against the veranda’s railing and closed my eyes. I stood there for a while; how long, I didn’t know.
“Riley.”
My eyes flashed open, and my heart leapt at the voice. A dream. Of Eli. In my head. I’d fallen asleep standing up on the veranda.
“No,” Eli said against my ear with a soft laugh. “Not a dream.”
Gently, with both hands, Eli grasped my face and tilted my head up. He looked down at me, his eyes searching mine. The lamplight gleamed in their blue depths, and a small smile tipped his sexy mouth. “I missed you, Riley Poe.”
“Ow,” I said as he pressed closer. “Easy, easy. Not so hard.” My body ached everywhere.
“I’ll be gentle,” he whispered against my lips.
“Ah,” I said, flinching. Even my damn lips hurt. I wanted him inside me. I wanted to taste his skin. I wanted him to kiss me. But I freaking hurt.
Eli’s gaze searched mine. He kissed me gently; yet I felt the power he used to restrain himself. He pulled back, searching my eyes. “I’ll stop if you hurt too much.”
I looked at him, puzzled. “Are you crazy?”
In his eyes shined possession, fierce longing, and something way deeper I had no desire to dwell on at the moment. “Come in here,” he said, grasping my hand and pulling me into the room. I followed.
Inside, he stood me next to the long antique dresser facing one wall. “Stand still.”
I did as he asked.
Slowly, and one by one, Eli’s deft fingers moved over my skin to the blades I had sheathed against my body. Loosening each one, he removed them and set them on the dresser. My eyes closed as his fingers trailed down each hip, unclasped the sheath, moved to the next ones, lower on my thighs, then on my shins. When they were all removed, he stood there, simply staring. He grasped my hand. “Come with me.”
Leading me across the floor, my gasped breath hitching with each step as the pain in my body shot through me, Eli drew me into the massive bathroom. A large, walk-in tiled shower with multiple water jets faced one wall; a claw-footed bathtub faced the other. Eli walked to the shower, turned on the jets, adjusted the water temperature, then dimmed the lights. When he returned to me, he stood there, staring down, his eyes devouring me. I felt it; I craved it. I craved him.
A small smile lifted his mouth at the corner. “I love how unshy you are.”
Steam quickly filled the room; Eli grasped his shirt at the hem and yanked it over his head. In fascination I watched the muscles pull and grow taut with movement. His eyes never left mine. In less than five seconds he had his jeans and boots off and shoved against the wall. My vampire stood there, looking at me with wild hunger and desire in his eyes and not wearing a stitch of clothing.
My body involuntarily shook.
He came to me, then; close, his body brushed mine. His fingers eased over my shoulders, across my collarbone, down the front where my bra clasped between my breasts. He released it, eased the straps down, and, as I held my arms straight, I winced. With a gentleness that no longer surprised me, he pushed the silky material off my body and dropped it to the floor.
Inside, I was dying; outside, my body raged with pain.
“I know, baby,” he said, slipping his fingers through the waistband of my panties and easing them to the floor. “I’m going to fix that.”
My heart leapt.
Slowly, Eli grasped my shoulders and walked me into the shower. Although it was equipped with pulsating, massaging jets, he’d adjusted the water stream to a soft, soothing, and very, very hot waterfall. Guiding me beneath it, he followed. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. I did.
With gentle fingers, Eli tilted my head back, and soothing hot water glided over my head and my face; it soaked my hair and drenched my body. His hands smoothed my wet hair back; his fingers traced my nose, my jaw, the column of my throat. Already, the tension in my body began to seep out.
An aroma of jasmine and verbena filled the air; I realized quickly it was the shampoo that filled Eli’s palms. Gently, he lathered my hair; blunt, strong fingers dug into my scalp, massaged it, and I thought I’d fall asleep standing there.
“No, don’t do that,” he whispered. “Stay with me, Riley.”
I sighed. “I’m trying.”
His seductive mouth against my wet skin made my nerves leap. “Try harder.”
“Rinse.” He pushed me beneath the cascade of water and rinsed my hair. Next, the air filled with the same aroma as he lathered his hands. “Now be still. Don’t move.”
Then, he lathered my body.
I stood and allowed it for a little while.
Eli’s hands, slick with water and soap, glided over my shoulders, down my arms, intertwined his fingers with mi
ne, and drew me close. His wet body pressed close to me, his lips sought the top of my shoulder, my throat, my ear, jaw, and slid to my mouth. In a slow, erotic kiss, his tongue grazed mine, his teeth scraped my lips, captured the bottom one, suckled gently.
Inside, I grew heavy with desire; my knees weakened, and I lifted my arms to his chest, trailed the muscles there; his breath caught in his throat; he captured my hands in his hands and lowered them.
“Not yet, Riley,” he said, his voice strained, his accent more prominent, his breath brushing against my ear. “You touch me, I’ll explode. Just . . . be still.”
“Then don’t kiss me like that,” I said.
I felt his smile against my skin. “No promises there.”
I sighed.
“Turn around,” he said against my cheek.
I did, and he pushed my hair over one shoulder and lathered my back, his fingers kneading deep into the sore muscles. I gasped with pleasure and pain, and it took every ounce of strength I had to remain upright. It took even more not to touch Eli.
There was a wet, sexy, naked vampire in the shower with me.
Eli’s low chuckle as he read my thoughts resonated against the tile, and his fingers continued to work magic. For now, I didn’t think of carnage, vampiric attacks, monsters, or fight clubs; I thought of nothing but Eli, his touch, and the craving he stirred within me. His hands glided over my body, every inch passed made my eyes roll back in bliss; I wanted him everywhere, inside, out, and I never, ever wanted him to leave me again.
His hands moved over my hips, encircled my stomach, and pulled my body against his. I felt his muscles pressing into my spine; his hardness pressing against the small of my back. His arms tightened around me, his mouth at my jaw. “I swear, I’ll never leave you again,” he whispered, his voice strained, somewhat painful.
I turned in his arms, and together we stepped out of the mainstream waterfall; steam rose all around us, and I locked my gaze on his. His dark, wet hair fell across his eyes, and I reached up and pushed it aside; I grazed his jaw and ran my thumb over his sexy lips. “Don’t,” I said quietly. “Don’t ever again, Eli.”
His mouth sought mine. “I promise,” he whispered, his tongue tasting mine.
I pushed him back. “Now you be still.”
A small smile tilted his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”
I gathered a handful of liquid soap. “Sorry.” I ran my hands over his chest, his shoulders, down his arms, over his stomach. “You’re gonna smell like a girl.”
He ducked his head and captured my mouth. “I don’t care,” he said, in between sensual kisses and nips. I lost myself in his drugging kiss; my hands glided over the muscles in his back, over his tight ass, his hips. The feel of his tongue against mine, his teeth scraping my lips, made me hot, wet, crazy. Blind with need, the pain of my battered body forgotten, I moved my soap-slickened hands over the cut ridges of his abdomen, lower, and grasped his slick hardness. He gasped in my mouth, groaned, kissed me deeper.
“Jesus, Riley,” he said, pained. “Control’s slipping.” He pushed me against the tiled wall, his hands roaming all over me.
“Don’t care,” I muttered against his throat, my hands stroking him. “Need you,” I panted, pressing my body to his. “Now, Eli.”
Without words, he lifted me; as I wrapped my legs around his hips, I slid over his hard length until Eli filled me completely. My head dropped back, drugged, weightless. Beneath the waterfall, Eli’s mouth tasted my skin, his tongue teased the hardened, sensitive peaks of my breasts; first one, then the other. With his fingers digging into my hips, he moved me effortlessly, the feel of his hardness sliding inside me making me crazy high. His mouth caressed me as his cock moved within me.
“Eli,” I gasped, and held on, our rhythm matching, and somewhere deep within me, an intense orgasm began like a faraway storm. We moved beneath the steaming water, fast, out of control, until the storm grew in strength and finally crashed. Wave after wave of climax claimed us both. I lost my breath, and spasms wracked my body. Eli held me close, his mouth pressed to my throat. The world tilted still; Eli’s lovemaking had that effect on me. I could do nothing more than hold on to him. I knew if he wasn’t holding on to me so tightly, I’d slip to the tiles below.
“I’d never let that happen,” he whispered against me.
“I know,” I answered, and ran my fingers through his soft, slick hair, tracing the shell of his ear.
Without words, Eli reached down with one hand and turned off the waterfall. Through the steam, his eyes searched mine. Slowly, he lowered his head, captured my mouth, and kissed me. Now, his control had returned, and he used it to savor my lips and my tongue, speaking to me with just his mouth; they were actions that spoke volumes over any words he could have whispered.
Still wet from the shower, and with me still clinging to him, Eli walked to the bed and followed me down into the softness of the down comforter. We shifted, and he pulled me close against him, my head resting on his chest, his arm completely around me and holding me to his body. He pulled back, just enough so that I could see his face without it being blurry.
Serious, cerulean eyes bore into mine. “I love you, Riley Poe.” He brushed a thumb over my lips. “Don’t forget that.” He kissed me, slowly, erotically, then looked at me again. “Ever.”
I opened my mouth to tell Eli how I felt, but his fingers over my lips stopped me.
“No, Riley,” he said gently. “Another time. When you’re really ready.”
Before I could respond, he pulled me against him again; resting his chin on top of my head. “Go to sleep, mostly mortal woman. We have a busy few days ahead of us.”
Prick, I said in my head.
Eli laughed, squeezing me a little tighter, and I closed my eyes, smiling.
Finally, I fought the exhaustion no more. I was content. I mean, how could I not be? Eli was naked. I was naked. We’d just had mind-blowing, soul-searching sex. The only thing better right now would be . . . I don’t know. Some corn dogs, maybe. Or a bag from Krystal.
“God, you’ve become such a hog,” Eli said, shaking with laughter. “Go to sleep, girl. I’ll get you food after you’ve rested.”
I laughed. “Okay.” I snuggled against him. His body temperature was perfect—not too warm, and definitely not too cool.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Sleep.”
Just before sleep claimed me, I felt relief that the monster hadn’t killed again; it was nearly daybreak, anyway.
How very wrong I was.
I experienced two kills, back-to-back. It was almost too much for me to handle.
I’d just felt that wave of exhaustion and contentedness wash over me.
I found myself walking along the city market. In the harbor, a tugboat blasted its horn, but I paid little attention and continued up the walk. Most of the stores hadn’t opened yet, but in the French Quarter a little café opened its doors to early risers; they weren’t about yet, but I slipped along the wall, to the back entrance of François Patisserie. Silently, I eased inside. The scent of freshbaked bread and pastries filled the café, but that wasn’t what made my stomach ache with need. In the back, near the double ovens and beside a long stainless steel counter, stood a plump, middle-aged woman, pulling a fresh batch of croissants from the oven. She had no idea I was in the kitchen with her. Rising on pudgy tiptoes, she reached for the top shelf over the sink, grasped a plate, then slid a hot croissant onto it. She smiled, moved to the counter, and removed the lid from a ceramic butter tray. With a knife she buttered her already-buttery croissant and took a big bite. She groaned with pleasure.
A feeling of impatience came over me, and I knew it was his feeling, not mine. I did the usual—scream, holler, but nothing came out, nothing worked, and I could not warn the plump baker that her death was coming.
No sooner had the baker woman swallowed her bite of croissant than I moved directly behind her. She must have sensed a presence, for slowly, she turned.
Her scream died in her throat.
The monster wasted no time. He lunged, held his hand over the woman’s mouth, and ripped right through her white cotton blouse. He sank his fangs into the flesh of her chest before finding the pulse of her heart. As he pierced the pumping organ, her warm blood gushed into his mouth and slid down his throat; fast at first, then slower, slower until her life force was no more. He dropped her on the floor, wiped his mouth with a rag left on the counter, and left.
The moment he stepped outside and noticed the jogger heading toward the river, I knew he’d kill again. I don’t know how, but I did. I thrashed, bile rising in my throat at the memory of the poor woman in the bakery, her blouse doused with blood, her dead face contorted in shock and terror.
Thankfully, the next kill was swift. The shirtless man jogging along the river was young, extremely fit, his chest cut with muscle, a six-pack to die for. He wore a Gamecocks ball cap as he ran, his iPod jamming in his ears. The moment he turned off the river and down an alley to cut through to another street, the monster was there. He stepped out, bumping into the man. The jogger stumbled, his blue eyes shocked to see someone else along his path. The monster waited for nothing. He changed; I knew this because of the horror on the jogger’s face. The monster ripped into him just as he’d ripped into the baker woman, nearly snatching the man’s heart out with his fangs. But the moment the hot metallic fluid pumped into him, he relaxed; he drank fully, and, when he was finished, he threw the jogger against the brick wall and walked away.
The last thing I remember before waking and separating from the monster, was his laugh.
It was oddly familiar. . . .
I bolted up in bed, my surroundings unfamiliar for a split second. Only then did I notice Eli was gone. I looked around, noticing how dim it still was outside. Eli must have slipped out the moment I’d drifted off. The exhaustion I felt was too real, too thick, and no way could I get out of bed right now. I must have closed my eyes at the exact moment the monster decided to feed; unless he knew me and was torturing me on purpose. If Eli was right, and Valerian, despite how Eli and his brothers had destroyed him, had manifested himself into one of his newlings, then he was the monster. He did know me. And I was pretty fucking sure he wanted to torment me to the fullest. He was succeeding.
