Ash made a noise close to a chuckle, eyeing him out of the corner of her eye and took a slip of paper with their door keys, those fancy cards that all hotels use these days, from the manager’s proffered hand. His fingers brushed across hers lightly as he let go of the paper. Tristan saw the interaction and narrowed his eyes at man, but he was too busy being cheery and lecherous to notice Tristan’s glare as he bounced around to the front of the desk.
“Monsieur, Madame, if you would follow me, please,” Moreau said in passable English, smiling way too much for Tristan’s taste.
As the Directeur stared towards the elevators, Tristan stopped to offer his elbow to Ash. “No need to be so jealous,” she said as she encircled his arm with both of her hands. He harrumphed and Ash clung to Tristan’s arm as they followed their exuberant guide, chatting away in his thick French accent, telling them about their wondrous benefits as members of the luxurious Apartment Suite—the reason for the personal guide.
The anxious ball of dangerous vampire clinging to Tristan’s arm however, helped him tune the guy out. He thought they’d talked through her troubles on the plane, then realized, they didn’t really say much of anything. He still didn’t know what he was to her. He didn’t know how she really felt about killing Lucien. In fact, the only thing he was sure about was that she wanted to be with Tristan and did not love the vampire they were there to hunt. That wasn’t the same as wanting him dead though.
Next to him Ash flinched, looked up at him, eyes full of hurt and shock. “There are no good feelings for that man,” she whispered. “I wish to see him as you do.”
Tristan smirked. “Good answer.”
The elevator doors shut and Ash let out a sigh, glancing back at the man still talking away as if they were listening to him. She leaned into Tristan and whispered, “Yukihime put our reservation under Uruwashi.”
He flinched. “What? Why?”
Ash shook her head. “I do not know if she was trying to be cute or simply put out a great big banner announcing that we are here by doing so.”
Tristan shrugged. “What can we do? I’m sure Lucien knows someone is coming after him.”
“She did not have to announce it was us however.”
“If Desmond didn’t know what I was, there’s a good chance Lucien doesn’t either.”
Ash looked up, her expression full of worry. “I do not think that is the case.”
Of course. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it.”
She harrumphed, staring at the elevator door as it closed. Behind them, Directeur Moreau was still talking.
“You have any idea of where to go from here?” he asked her in a whisper.
She frowned at her reflection. “Not really. I have a few ideas, but nothing solid.”
They really were ill-prepared for this trip. Tristan sighed, annoyed at the buzz of Moreau’s thick accent filling the confines of the elevator, boring into Tristan’s brain. By the time they reached the seventh floor and stepped out into the hallway, Tristan seriously thought he was going to be forced to pull his gun on the guy—the gun he had hidden in a tidy holster under his dinner jacket. In addition to not even understanding pretty much every word out of the dude’s mouth, Tristan just didn’t like him. Or rather, he didn’t like the way he kept looking at Ash, how he would linger on the low buttons of her blouse. The same buttons that Tristan had intended to open in the car. He groaned to himself, resisting the urge to grab his crotch, his cock still stiff from their time in the car. What a hell of a time to have an erection.
There were only two doors on the floor, and just one of those with a plaque outside. Seeing Tristan’s confusion, Moreau said, “The apartment is the whole floor.”
Tristan understood why Yuki picked the place now. They had their own floor.
Moreau used his master card key to open the door and held it for Ash. She nodded her thanks as she slipped into the room, Moreau all eyes for her. Tristan wanted to stick his fingers in those vulgar eyes. He stepped up to the manager and cleared his throat, making the man snap around to look at him. The Frenchman had to look up, but then, who didn’t.
“Ah, I almost forgot.” Moreau reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. “This was left for you, monsieur.”
Tristan took the envelope without even looking at it and shoved it into his pocket, mumbling a thanks as he started to turn away.
“Darling,” Ash called out in her Greek accent again. “I’m waiting for you.”
Tristan tensed at the heat in those little words, the surge of lust he felt at being beckoned. By the expression on Moreau’s face, he felt something too. “I will have your bags brought up very shortly. Is there anything else we can be of assistance with Mr. Uruwashi?”
Tristan almost snickered at how badly the Frenchman pronounced the foreign name. Even Tristan didn’t mess it up that badly before Ash taught him the correct way to speak it. He sighed and stepped halfway into the room, ready to make his escape. “No, we’re fine. Thanks.” Seriously, just piss off already.
“Perhaps, you would like a cold bottle of champagne sent up?” he asked, a twinkle in his dark eyes. “On the house, of course.”
Tristan’s nose crinkled up in disgust. Just because they were both men, it didn’t mean he had a connection with the guy. And just because of his sexy company, didn’t mean he was going to get some the moment the door shut.
Tired of dealing with the nefarious looks and stupid accent, Tristan furrowed his brow and did one of the ruder things he’d done while sober. He stepped back into the room and slammed the door in the guy’s face without saying a word. Free of the man finally he turned to face the room, slumping against the door and let out long a breath. He barely had time to finish his exhausted sigh when Ash attacked him.
7: Fuel my Fire
THE suite door shuddered under the sudden weight of an Uruwashi being pinned by a vampire. Only, this wasn’t an attack of life and death, this was something far simpler and instinctual. Ash’s lips mashed against Tristan’s so hard that he could feel the outline of two dainty fangs fighting to break through. He opened to her, releasing the pressure between their mouths and she forced her tongue roughly in. He moaned, grabbing her head, digging his fingers deep into her hair. A whisper of fang grazed his tongue and then he was in her mouth, tasting her deeper than he’d ever before.
He couldn’t think of why she’d so suddenly break her own rule of no spit swapping, but at that moment, he couldn’t really think at all. Her hands pawed frantically at his shirt until cold fingers found the bare skin of his stomach. Instead of shying away from that coolness, he pushed into her hands, letting them smooth across the muscles of his stomach. A thumbnail traced quickly along the ridge of scar there, a reminder of his mortality. Tristan shivered under her touch, wanting more, but if he didn’t make sure this was what she really wanted then he’d be the one paying for it in the end.
“Ash,” he said, forcing her mouth away from his long enough to speak. “Are you sure about this? What about—”
Ash gave a groan and then she forced his jacket off. Dazed, he helped slip it off and then Ash was tugging at his gun holster. The leather snapped together as she tore it from him and then his shirt was being ripped up and over his head in one quick motion. The cuffs were still buttoned and got caught on his wrists. Ash didn’t hesitate to just rip those buttons off to free him of the shirt.
Surprised at her sudden vigor, he could only blink down at her as he panted for air. He wasn’t about to argue with what was happening, just the opposite. But he wondered why she would risk possibly infecting him with her vampiric saliva. She’d made it clear, and more than once, that she would not bite him. She would not kiss him. She would not kill him. Still, he could get used to this side of Ash, the aggressive Ash. He liked a woman who knew what she wanted and made it happen.
Ash mashed her lips against his again, demanding he open to her. With a soft groan, he parted for her, letting her frantic tongue stroke o
ver his. She wrapped her arms around his back, her touch cool, and pressed nails into his flesh. Tristan grabbed her in return, lifting her by the ass so that she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist. Her short pencil skirt bunched up around her waist and one of her garters unsnapped, smacking Tristan in the hand. He hardly noticed the quick sharp pain as he got the first hint of fang scraping over the soft tissue of his mouth and tongue. Ash was drowning, too lost in her desire to notice the dangerous position she was putting Tristan in. But he was okay with that. He was happy to help her drown, if it was only in him. If she nicked him by accident and he was turned, then so be it.
It would have been totally worth it.
Starved for air, he was forced to pull away from her probing kiss. He sucked in a gasp the second their lips parted. Those pale lilac eyes he’d come to admire were now burning into his with an intensity that he’d never seen before, not even when she killed. Something was happening between them that Tristan didn’t understand. Something had pushed her need over the edge. She was going under and this time, she didn’t care. She couldn’t stop herself—wouldn’t.
Tristan grabbed the back of her head with his free hand, keeping the other on her ass for support, and pulled her to his mouth again. Her legs tightened around his middle and she moved against him. He kissed her deep and started to march across the suite. He took them through the living room, expertly avoiding the sofa, coffee table and desk, towards the main bedroom all without having to take his tongue out of her mouth.
They fell onto the king sized bed with Ash on the bottom. Her mouth broke from his as she cried out from the sensation of having his erection pressed so roughly between her legs. Tristan immediately dove into her neck, kissing and sucking at the smooth flesh, a hand groping over her breasts. He pulled a mouthful of skin between his teeth and bit down, only to immediately release it, remembering what he had done to her last night. Whatever it was that Yuki did to him was still riding him, just not as strong. He could deny it now. Especially with the memory of what happened yesterday.
Ash, however, didn’t even notice as she raked at his back, smoothed her legs up his hips, her desperate moans sounding in his ear to encourage him. Lost in the passion, lost in Ash, he tore open the front of her shirt. And just like in movies, he managed to rip a few buttons away, plus a bit of cloth that got caught up in the fray. With an eager groan, he pushed the shirt over her shoulders to reveal her black and completely see-through bra. Lucky for him, the clasp for the horrible piece of clothing was in the front. He hooked a thumb under the small clip and pulled forward and up, releasing the restraints.
Ash answered the hot hand on her breast with an arch and a moan, but her face was turned away, teeth clenched tightly. She was fighting the overwhelming urge to bite. Tristan ran his not-so-gentle caresses over her breasts, hardening her nipples between his lips, at the tip of his tongue. Under him, Ash’s hips bucked into him, an almost involuntary motion as she started to lose control over herself. Tristan’s body automatically responded and he pushed his hardness against her, wishing he were inside. He growled low in his throat, half in frustration.
Ever since Ash came into his life, he stopped jerking off. At first it was just the thought of masturbating in someone else’s bed, weirded him out little. Especially since it was poor, darling Haruka who changed the bed sheets. But after he and Ash became an item or whatever you called it, well, despite not even being able to touch her, he didn’t see the point. And despite all of his no-no habits after the accident and his panache for women, he hadn’t had sex in nearly eight months. That was a whole story in itself.
As for Ash and her needs, he couldn’t really say. Sure, she said before Lucien two months back it’d been nearly four times that for her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t having her own hand in the meantime. Vampires were, after all, creatures of blood and lust. So Ash said anyway. All he could speak on was his own frustrations and the overwhelming need burning in him, begging to be fulfilled. His Uruwashi blood didn’t help a god dammed thing either, urging him towards the creature that was supposed to be his prey—not his girlfriend.
And therein laid the real problem. They were enemies, not lovers. Despite their “mutual understanding” they both secretly fretted over the thought that once Tristan was an Uruwashi in name and blood, he would want to kill Ash. That’s why she couldn’t bite him. She couldn’t risk infecting him even with a simple kiss. But they were well beyond a simple kiss now.
Oh god, we can do this, Tristan thought. I swear we’ll take it slower next time, but right now I just need...
Ash found the top of his pants and tore open the button and zipper. She reached in and gave him a quick grab before smoothing her palms back and over his ass to push his boxers and jeans down. He bit into her flesh again, the soft tissue of her breast, nearly mad with anticipation. She breathed his name and dug nails into his ass, pulling him against her. He could feel her wet through the thin panties as his body fought against the barrier.
We can do this, if she can control herself just enough to not bite at a critical moment...
Tristan felt up her outside thigh and moved around to grab at the hip of her little thongs. He’d gotten one side down and was just plunging his hand between her thighs again when someone cleared their throat from behind them. They both flinched and Tristan looked up over his shoulder.
Standing just inside the double doors of their bedroom, hands out before him, one clasping the wrist of the other and eyes respectfully cast downward, a man stood silently waiting for the entwined couple to acknowledge him and make proper. He was a petite man with dark hair that hid his ears, coming down to brush his cheeks with his bangs pinned back in a style that was decidedly female but looked good on the man. He wore a suit, and damn expensive from the tailored cut. A pair of white gloves hung from his pocket.
“Pardon, mon seigneur,” he said in a soft, but confident voice. He enunciated very preciously through his thick French accent. When he bowed Tristan noticed that the man’s hair wasn’t black, only died that way as bright red roots started to peek. “I apologize for the intrusion, however I was instructed to see you right away. No exceptions.”
Tristan let out a long, annoyed groan and rested his forehead on Ash’s chest, not giving a damn that he was mooning the man—not the first person he’d mooned, definitely not the last. Ash was motionless under him, except for the rhythm of her heavy breathing, rocking his head back and forth on her breasts like a boat on water.
Are you fucking kidding me? he thought, not believing this shit. Finally, Ash and he managed to break through their invisible barrier and be with one another, rather safely even, and they get interrupted. The guy had better have a damn good excuse or he was seriously going to regret interrupting them.
Tristan lifted his head enough to look into Ash’s eyes. “Didn’t you feel him come in?”
Ash shook her head and whispered, “I was too busy feeling something else.” She wiggled her lower half against him, just in case he didn’t understand.
He couldn’t help but grin. He more than understood. “Oh, dirty... We’re in the right room, right?”
Her lips stretched wide as she fought not to laugh. After a moment of staring into her eyes and lamenting not getting to finish what they started with the taste of her so strong on his lips, he heaved a sigh and rolled off, leaving himself exposed.
“Who instructed you?” he asked, not caring that he was being very lewd to the man in their room. Hey, it was the guy’s fault for coming in like this.
On the bed, Ash sat upright, holding the front of her shirt with its missing buttons closed. Tristan took a seat in front of her and she rested against his back, looking around his shoulder to the dapper man in their room waiting for them to make themselves proper. The man whose mind was completely locked from her. He was no human and yet, there was no reason to fear him. She knew what this creature was, could smell the fine blood in his veins. She also knew exactly what his purpose here was.<
br />
“Yukihime,” Ash said and the man nodded.
Tristan sighed, slumping. He should have known. “All right. What’s your name, pal?”
The dapper man smiled brightly, placed one arm across his waist and bowed low. “Sebastian, mon seigneur.”
“Mon seigneur?” he whispered to Ash. “My…?”
“Lord.”
Tristan turned back to the other man. “Okay, seriously, dude, stop calling me that. It’s kind of creepy.”
Ash sighed at him, climbing off the bed and marched off to disappear into the bathroom.
Across the room, Sebastian’s bright green eyes grew wide. “Mon seigneur, I could not do something so disrespectful. I have been charged to you and as such you are my ruling Lord.”
Tristan raised an eyebrow at him, thinking he was being a bit overdramatic.
“It is their way,” Ash called out from the bathroom followed by the sound of running water.
“Whatever dude.” He sighed and stood, finally tucking himself away and zipping his pants. “So what exactly did Mistress Yukihime bid you to assist with?”
Sebastian’s eyes shot to his for a split second. There was fear in those green orbs, fear for Tristan’s flippant remarks about the ancient vampire. Seeing Tristan watching him so closely, he quickly returned his gaze to the floor.
“I am to ensure your stay is comfortable, that you and mademoiselle have everything you need, not matter what it may be.” He finally made good, solid eye contact with Tristan and with his chin held high, looking resolute, said, “Including proper meals and clean up.”
Tristan gave him a confused look, wondering what he meant, until it hit him. “Whoa, hey. No, that’s cool. Ash doesn’t—she can take care of herself. And I eat solids.” Wasn’t that the truth of it all? He wasn’t sure how much Yuki told the dude, but Tristan didn’t know this guy and wasn’t about to start telling him secrets. Like the fact that Ash didn’t feed from living hosts. And as far as Tristan was concerned, everything was a secret. Even if it was something silly like preferring boxers over briefs. Never knew what little detail might find him in trouble later. Was he being paranoid? Maybe, but he saw it as smart life insurance.
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