Sex, Lies, and Vampires

by Katie MacAlister

"To hell with the time," I murmured, giving in to our shared desire.

  My feelings exactly, he thought, his mouth moving lower on me as he positioned me beneath him. His hair trailed like black skeins of silk down my belly as he parted my legs, my entire body tingling as his stubbled cheeks brushed against my sensitive flesh. I gave up trying to hold on to a thought, and allowed my being to merge with his.

  "Why did you ask if we Joined?" he questioned my shoulder an eon or two later. "You made the choice to take my blood despite my pleas for you not to. Your regret now—"

  "I don't regret it," I interrupted as he levered himself upward to peer down at me with suspicion. "Not one bit. I might be a reluctant newcomer to your world, but you truly are everything I've ever wanted in a man. Other than that whole eternally damned thing, that is, and I'm fairly certain we'll be able to work that out somehow."

  "Then why did you ask me if we were Joined?"

  I kissed the furrow between his brows, and accepted his hand when he got to his feet. "Because," I answered, wrapping the towel around me. Adrian didn't seem to feel the least bit self-conscious as he stood before me starkly male, his body all hard lines and muscle, but I was much less perfectly made than he. "I looked while I was in the bathroom, and nothing seems to be changed. In me. Does it take a while before the effect is seen?"

  "Effect? What effect?"

  "The Beloved effect. Or whatever you want to call it. Look." I smiled and pointed to the left side of my face. "See? It's still lopsided. And my leg and arm feel the same, too."

  His frown deepened until enlightenment suddenly dawned in his eyes. Then his face went stiff, as if a mask had dropped into place. "You believed you would be made perfect when you Joined with me."

  "Well, yeah! Isn't that part of being immortal?"

  "No." His voice was a harsh whisper that disturbed the silence of the room, but it was his eyes, his expressive eyes, that haunted me. Shuttered and flat, they were empty of all emotion. "In the case of a Dark One and his Beloved, immortality merely refers to an inability to die of natural causes. It does not mean that physical imperfections are eliminated."

  "Well, hell!" I stormed, my hands on my hips as I glared at him. "Why didn't you tell me that?"

  His entire body went still as I tossed my hands into the air and marched toward the bathroom. "I mean, shoot, you could have mentioned that! Here I was hoping that I'd be fixed up when we finally Joined, and now what do I have to look forward to? An eternity of having a weak arm and leg, and a face that isn't quite symmetrical. Lovely. Just lovely."

  It wasn't until I was in the bathroom that I realized something was seriously wrong.

  "Adrian?" I poked my head out the bathroom door and looked at him. He stood where I had left him, just as if he was a life-sized statue of an ancient Greek god. "Since you got me all dirty again, I thought it's only fair if you clean me up."

  He said nothing, staring at the space I had formerly inhabited.

  "I'll clean you up, too. There's bubble bath! Adrian? What's the matter—oh, my God!" I walked toward him, vaguely wondering what was wrong with him, but as soon as I came within a few feet, his pain swamped me, almost bringing me to my knees.

  I realized then the mistake I had made.

  "Adrian, touch me." I stood in front of him, feeling the full weight of his anguish. Without waiting for him to comply, I leaned against him, wrapping my arms around his waist, nuzzling the sweet spot behind his ear. Feel me. Feel how much I love you. Feel the truth, my sweet Adrian. I didn't just Join with you so I would be made whole—I did it because you are now my life. I can't possibly be happy without you.

  The brush of his mind against mine was tentative, fleeting, as if he were afraid to merge with me. I smiled into his neck and welcomed him as his velvet touch filled me with such contentment, I couldn't begin to express it with mere words. Instead, I laid my soul open to him, allowed him to feel for himself the depth of my emotions.

  You want to be made whole, his thought filled my head, a whisper of regret trailing the words.

  Yes. I'd also like to be twenty pounds thinner, have longer legs, and get rid of that annoying birthmark on my back, but if it's not to be, it's not to be. I'm sorry you misunderstood me, Adrian. I was just a little disappointed to find out how things work, but in the end, what's important is that we are together.

  His arms went around me as he accepted the truth, his body hard against mine. He held me tight for a moment, his mind closed to me as he fought with his inner demons. I didn't press him, just held him in return, and prayed like mad that I would find a way to prove him wrong about his lack of belief in our future.

  Our bath, by necessity, was quick.

  "We must be off," Adrian said as he dressed in fresh clothes from his satchel.

  "Do you have anything but black clothes in there?" I asked, unable to keep from watching him as he pulled on yet another pair of black jeans. "It looks really good on you, but I'd kind of like to see you in something blue—a blue silk shirt, maybe. I bet it would set off your eyes."

  "I am the Betrayer," he answered. "I do not wear colors. Black symbolizes the absence of my soul. It indicates the stark nature of my being, and signals to all that I am outcast, an exile."

  "You are the ex-Betrayer, and you have a Beloved. That means you are getting your soul back, so you can wear whatever you like," I pointed out, dragging my gaze from him to the clothes Gigli had left for me, along with a tray of bread, cheese, and white wine. I plucked a pair of undies from the bed and pulled the tag off before donning them. "We won't even go into the fact that black is very stylish and makes you look incredibly masculine. Thank heaven Gigli bought me a new pair. Hand-me-down underwear is just too icky for words."

  Adrian made no comment, but his eyes followed my hands as I slid into the ankle-length silk chiffon skirt and matching beaded crochet sweater.

  Ten minutes later I had brushed my teeth (silently blessing Gigli for thinking of that necessity), combed my hair, and sat down to consult the book of charms she had given me earlier.

  "This is ridiculous," Adrian fumed as he paced by the couch where I sat. "It will not work. You will cease this immediately and let me do what I must. We have no time to waste on such foolishness."

  "It's not foolish. You're on the brink of reclaiming your soul—we're not going to risk losing it now." I turned the page, nibbling on my lower lip as I scanned the Latin text for something that looked like it would serve us. "Let's see… killing someone. Nope. Way too evil. Um… dismemberment. Ick. Turning victim into a wraith. What's a wraith? Is it bad?"

  Adrian nodded.

  "Bad bad, or just semi-bad?"

  "A wraith is a spirit that has been sent into limbo for eternity."

  "Ouch. OK, no go on the wraith curse. Hmm. Here's a charm to lift a curse that leaves the victim with the head of a dog and the body of a snake."

  I looked at Adrian. He rolled his eyes.

  "Right, that one's out as well. Oooh, here's something: a charm for lifting a curse that renders its victim helpless. Hmm. Doesn't sound like the person cursed is injured, just made helpless against the person who orders the curse. I bet that would work."

  I looked up as Adrian stopped in front of me, his hands on his hips. "Even if I agreed to allow you to use your power against the Eisenfaust member—which I have not—the fact remains that you cannot curse someone without invoking a servant of a demon lord, and I doubt if you have the strength or ability to control a demon."

  "I'm sure I don't," I said with a smile. "But you do! You can call up a demon for me, and I'll use it to curse the Eisenfaust guy."

  He shook his head before I finished the last sentence. "Dark Ones cannot summon demons."

  "They can't?" My hopes fell. I knew he was right, knew I didn't have what it took to summon a demon. If we didn't have a demon, I wouldn't be able to cast a curse, and that meant Adrian would end up putting himself at risk by having to turn a mortal. "Damn! Why not?"

  "Our bond
to the demon lord is too great. Servants cannot summon other servants."

  I frowned, on the verge of throwing down the book and giving in to a good old-fashioned hissy fit when his words filtered through my frustration and disappointment. I leaped up from the couch, kissing the tip of his nose. "You're a genius!"

  He stepped back as I snatched the book in one hand and his satchel with the other. "Nell—"

  "Don't you see?" I stopped at the door to grab my coat. "You said yourself that I needed to have a servant of a demon lord to cast a curse. We both assumed that meant a demon, but until we lift that curse from you, you 're a servant of a demon lord! I can use you instead of a demon. Come on, the sun's down. Let's go find this Eisenfaust bully and turn him into a helpless blob of German Mafia jelly."

  * * *

  Chapter Fourteen

  "You know, if I couldn't see for myself that it wasn't true, I'd say I was cursed."

  Adrian shook his head at the flight attendant's offer of a beverage and cocked an eyebrow at me when she moved off.

  "That whole nothing-turning-out-as-planned thing," I answered his silently questioning eyebrow. "First there was you—well, OK, I'm willing to admit that turned out better than I imagined."

  The grin that never failed to make my heart do back-flips curled his lips for a moment before he resumed his scan of the passengers on the British Air plane en route to London.

  "But then there was the cursing in Cologne." At Adrian's look of warning, I pushed up the armrest between us and slid my hand onto the hard muscle of his thigh. Two could play at the possessive game. Not that I'm blaming you, of course. You did your part perfectly, and I'm strangely pleased to know that, should the need ever arise to curse someone again, we're set, but that whole experience of Herr Baxton growing a third eye has given me the willies. You're sure it will go away?

  Adrian's hand covered mine, almost as warm and reassuring as his voice in my mind. I am certain that both the extra eye and the tail that were the result of your curse will disappear with time. The curse you cast was not a strong one, Hasi. It will dissipate in a few weeks.

  Good. I'd hate to think Hen Baxton would have to get a whole new wardrobe just because my cursing skills aren't terribly accurate.

  His laughter rumbled in my head as I snuggled into his side. The flight itself was uneventful despite a storm that followed us as we flew toward England. Adrian didn't seem to be much in the mood for conversation, his attention focused on making sure that no one had slipped past his guard. I understood he was worried about Sebastian and Christian finding us, but I wasn't overly concerned. Gigli had sent one of her henchmen along with us to the airport, and both he and Adrian had kept their eyes peeled for any vampires, but neither one spotted anyone suspicious. None of the travelers had paid any attention to us as we collected our tickets and waited to board the plane. The passports Seal had given us had been works of forged art, so perfect that not even the overly conscientious Cologne security had given them a second glance. I had to admit being a bit disappointed that we had no need for the hastily conceived cover story I prepared about who we were and why we were going to London, a story that involved a coffee pot left plugged in, a litter of newly born kittens, and a priceless Picasso, but the realization that we were, at long last, on our way soothed that minor irritation.

  "So, what now?" I whispered to Adrian less than an hour later when a tired flight attendant asked us to make sure our trays and seat backs were upright. Beyond the tiny airplane window, the lights of the London suburbs flashed beneath us. "We find Asmodeus, and we'll find Saer, right? Since you're working for him, you must know where Asmodeus is."

  Adrian's eyes went cold. "Yes. I know where he is."

  "Good. This is going to sound kind of odd, but where exactly does a demon lord stay when he's in London?"

  The plane dropped into its final descent, bouncing slightly when the wheels hit the tarmac. A few minutes later, everyone leaped to their feet and began tugging luggage from under seats and out of the overhead bins. Adrian leaned toward me to avoid being beaned by a woman with a large stuffed panda.

  "Since losing his source of power, Asmodeus has been bound to an ivory figure currently in storage at the British Museum."

  My mouth dropped open. "He's what?"

  Adrian's fingers closed around mine. You must be quiet, Hasi. For anyone to realize we are in England is a danger to us both.

  I scooted out of my seat as Adrian stood, his satchel slung over one shoulder as he waited for me to precede him. I hurried off the plane, smiling at the flight attendant as we left, pausing in the disembarkment area until Adrian caught up with me. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shout, but, Adrian, the British Museum?"

  He shushed me and nodded, hurrying us up the long corridor to the customs area.

  I grabbed his arm. There is a demon lord in the British Museum?

  Yes.

  Doesn't anyone notice ?

  He slid an irritated glance my way. He is bound to a figurine, powerless until the ring is returned to him. No, no one has noticed he is there.

  Oh. I showed my passport, chatted briefly with the passport control lady, and waited until Adrian did the same and joined me again before I asked, "What sort of figurine? One of those china shepherdesses with all the pink frou-frou and stuff?"

  "Hardly," he answered, his voice dry as we followed the signs to the train station beneath Heathrow. "This figure is ivory, from Toprakkale, in Urartu."

  "Urartu," I said, frowning as I dug around in my historian's memory.

  "Ancient Rusahinili. Eastern Anatolia." Adrian plopped a couple of coins in a machine and grabbed the two train tickets that emerged.

  "Oh, that's Turkey! Gotcha."

  "The statue is of a griffin-headed demon, one of the figures used in an altar devoted to Asmodeus. Because of its nearness and the fact it had been consecrated in his name, he was bound to it when his ring was lost."

  "Huh. So he's stuck in the British Museum, powerless. Where's Saer, then?"

  "I suspect with his Beloved," Adrian answered as he shoved me toward a train that had just arrived.

  I was getting a little tired of being astonished by what he said, so I didn't stop and demand an immediate explanation. No, I held my tongue until we were settled in the back of the last car, then I asked in a casual, barely interested voice, "Your brother has a Beloved?"

  "He's found her, but they haven't yet Joined. At least they hadn't when I last heard of Saer." Adrian sat stiffly next to me, his eyes constantly moving around at the people filling the car. It was just before dawn, a fact that seemed to worry me more than Adrian, but he was focused on the occupants of the car. Most of the people were commuters clutching travel cups of coffee, blinking with bleary eyes at the morning paper.

  I put my hand on Adrian's and gave it a squeeze. "Angelpants, I know you're just doing the protection thing, but I really don't think you have anything to worry about here. No one knows we're in England, and quite frankly, I don't think anyone on this train gives a hoot about us."

  An eyebrow cocked as he slowly turned to look at me, his lips thinned. "Angel… pants?"

  I sighed and raised my hands in surrender. "I'm trying to find an endearment for you, but nothing seems to fit. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a love name for a vampire? You guys thrive on names like Betrayer and Spike and Vlad the Decapitator, none of which lend themselves to cute, adorable cuddle names."

  Adrian's eyebrow arched even higher. "I believe you are referring to Vlad the Impaler, the man later known as Dracula."

  "Whatever. My problem is that honey is too bland, and I don't like darling, and sweetie really is not you, so that leaves me with babycakes, angelpants, and love."

  "I choose love," he answered, trying to look stern and unbending, like a man feared for centuries as the Betrayer, but I saw the corners of his mouth quirk.

  "You know, the more you do that, the easier it'll get," I teased, leaning over to kiss the curved corners of h
is mouth.

  "I have not had much in my life to smile about," he admitted, his eyes starting to go dark with desire. Mindful of the passengers around us I moved my kisses to the safer region of his stubbly cheek.

  "I know you haven't, but that's going to change. You've got me now, and all my friends say I'm a wacky girl. I'm just what you need."

  He looked for a moment like he was going to argue that point, but stopped before he said anything. I leaned into his side, content to be there with him, the feel of him warm and solid next to me bringing me a sense of fulfillment and completeness I'd had no idea was missing from my life.

  So, was Vlad one of you guys?

  A Dark One? No.

  What was he, then? And why did Bram Stoker think he was a vamp?

  Dracula was a strigoi, a member of a rare blood clan. Strigoi ingest blood as sustenance by choice.

  Whereas you guys have to have it?

  Adrian's thumb brushed along my jaw in a tender gesture that melted my heart. Dark Ones cannot manufacture blood. We must absorb it from other sources, but we do not ingest it. The blood I take from you joins with my own to give me life.

  A little erotic shiver ran down my spine, but whether it was from the soft touch of his mind or the remembrance of just how exciting I found it to feed him, I didn't know. I did know that I had to stop thinking about it, or the early-morning commuters on the train to Oxford were going to get the show of a lifetime.

  "Let's back up a minute to your brother. Why would he not Join with his Beloved?"

  An interesting mixture of regret, pain, and something that looked very much like embarrassment passed over his face before he turned his head to look out the window. "Saer has always been determined to wield great power. I have done what I could to deny him the power he seeks, but I fear my reign of influence is at an end."

  I looked at him, for a minute confused. His jaw was tight, and his hands fisted, both indicators that he was revealing another facet of his character that he felt would show him in a bad light. I knew better—I'd seen into his heart, and I knew he was not a vindictive man.