Lovers Awakening

by R. A. Steffan

  “You can use mine,” Eris offered, relief nearly overwhelming him.

  Trynn gave him a horrified look. “Are you kidding? That’s the equivalent of using someone else’s toothbrush. No, no—I need my computer.”

  Perplexed by her vehemence, Eris made a non-committal noise. “After dark, perhaps, when we can go with you,” he countered. “Deal?”

  She looked unhappy, but nodded. Relieved to have things settled—for the time being, at least—Eris crossed to the desk in the corner and sat down. After a few moments’ deliberation, he composed a terse email to Tré, explaining the situation as best he could in a few words.

  Tré would understand if anyone would, Eris knew. After their experience with finding Della, Eris was confident that he and the others would drop whatever they were doing and come to his assistance. And in the meantime, he had Snag.

  With his most immediate worries resolved, Eris let his gaze stray over the top of the bulky laptop and back to Trynn, who had moved from the chair to the couch. She wasn’t looking at him. Instead, she was frowning, leaning forward in her seat to rest her chin on her hands, the way she used to all those centuries ago—clearly lost in thought. His gaze raked over her like a starving man’s, taking in every svelte curve and tantalizing angle. She was tall—her body slender and coltish where Phaidra had been all softness. He longed to explore the differences.

  Eris swallowed hard and looked away, trying to get a grip on himself.

  He stood from the desk rather abruptly and walked past Trynn, who lifted her eyes to shoot him a challenging look. Snag, on the other hand, followed his path towards the en-suite bedroom with his customary impassive gaze.

  Exhaustion still nagged at Eris, and his vision spun in ponderous circles as he flopped down onto the bed without even pulling back the covers. With a touch as light as air, Eris felt Snag brush against his thoughts a moment later, a question hanging between them.

  “Please keep an eye on her for me,” Eris murmured. Snag’s gaze turned back towards Trynn.

  Worries and plans spun endlessly through Eris’ mind, making sleep impossible as thoughts of the coming darkness consumed him. In the space of a day, he’d come to appreciate what Tré must have experienced when Della emerged from the shadows and walked into his life. Eris hoped that he would have a chance to apologize for some of the impatience he’d expressed during the trying time before Della’s turning. He could understand fully now why Tré had felt so protective of his mate.

  A peace that came from outside him settled over Eris, and he shuddered as the tension he’d been carrying flowed out of his muscles without warning. Damn. He must have been projecting his thoughts more loudly than he realized. Snag had apparently had enough of listening to his internal monologue, and had decided to take action.

  Eris reached out mentally. We can’t let this escalate into a nuclear war, Snag, he said. It will take the others time to get here, but I could go ahead to Damascus and scout around. See what’s happening. We’ll need some reconnaissance before we go in en masse, so we’ll know what we’re facing. We’ve got to neutralize this threat.

  In response, Eris received a surge of disagreement and disapproval. With his brow furrowed in a deep frown, Eris allowed his displeasure to radiate across the mental connection.

  What the hell else am I supposed to do? he asked. We need to move on this. We can’t sit around hoping the bombs don’t off before the others can get here.

  Another wave of opposition.

  Wait. The single word was emphatic.

  We don’t have time to wait! Eris shot back, his frustration growing. This has to be resolved before it turns into a disaster! But we also can’t risk leaving Trynn unguarded. You need to stay here and protect her. I’ll go ahead to Damascus and see what I can do on my own about the situation. You know how important Trynn is—

  Eris felt a flare of irritation along the connection, but ignored it.

  —and we sure as hell aren’t taking her along. We’d be delivering her straight into Bael’s hands, he continued doggedly.

  Then I will go. You will stay.

  It was Eris’ turn to be angry. Why was Snag making this so difficult? The logic was simple—plain as day.

  Don’t be ridiculous, he shot back. You’re more powerful than I am. I need you here, with Trynn, protecting her. Please, Snag, just do this for me.

  Snag did not respond but Eris felt a chill of power emanating from him. Snag’s anger seemed to be growing, filling the entire suite. Eris could tell that Snag thought he was being an idiot.

  It’s pragmatic, and you can’t stop me from going unless you plan on fighting me outright, Eris pointed out. I’ll find out exactly what we’re facing in Damascus, so that we can stop whatever Bael is intending with these bombs.

  He took a deep breath and pulled out his trump card. And I swear on my life, Snag, if you abandon Trynn or allow anything to happen to her while I’m gone, I will purposely lose every game of chess we ever play from this day forward in ten moves or less.

  There was a very pronounced silence following his words. Eris could tell Snag was musing over the threat, trying to decide if it was legitimate.

  Apparently, he realized that it was. After the space of several heartbeats, Snag relented. Eris could tell by the way the tight bond of energy between the two of them relaxed. Snag was clearly still unhappy, but Eris had—somewhat to his own surprise—won the argument.

  And anyway, it wasn’t as though Snag was ever particularly happy.

  Good. Now that it’s decided, I’m going to sleep, Eris sent, pulling a pillow toward his chest. He settled deeper into the soft mattress, and allowed his mind to drift.

  Several hours later, he awoke with a start. His dreams had been confused, a swirl of memories and worry about the current situation that left him disoriented in the wake of his slumber. Shaking his head, Eris stretched out his senses and found that the sun was setting.

  That was a relief; it would be easier to embark on his mission without having to worry about the possibility of being burned by its rays if he wasn’t flying fast enough across the narrow stretch of the Levantine Sea that separated Cyprus from Syria. After his unexpectedly restorative sleep, Eris felt he could wait no longer to start his self-imposed mission.

  As he stretched his awareness outward, he found that Snag was gone. For a moment, this concerned him, but then he sensed the familiar presence outside, hovering in the deepening shadows. He had merely left the room when Eris started to stir, apparently to give Eris and Trynn some privacy.

  Eris pushed wordless gratitude across their mental connection as he climbed from the bed and walked back into the living area of the generous suite.

  He found Trynn fast asleep on the couch, one arm draped across her forehead, the other wrapped protectively around his laptop.

  He stared at the computer for a beat, blinking in confusion. Hadn’t he locked the screen earlier?

  Fascinated by her sleeping form, Eris walked over to her and knelt down next to the couch where she was slouched. He stared at her face, drinking in the unfamiliar lines, unable to stop himself from falling back into memories of their life together, all those centuries ago. She was just as captivating now as she had been then. Even though her features were different, his heart clearly recognized its other half and rejoiced at their reunion.

  I will protect you, he vowed. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Not again. Never again.

  Trynn’s breathing, which had been slow and soft, deepened as she stretched, coming awake. With her free hand, she rubbed her eyes and looked around, blinking.

  Her eyes landed on Eris, kneeling next to the couch, and she pushed up on her elbows. “Where’s the other guy?”

  Eris hesitated, unsure how much to tell her. Trynn didn’t know yet about the alternate forms that vampires could take, and he wasn’t sure now was the moment to enlighten her. While part of him longed to tell her everything, all at once, the more cautious part warned that she was sti
ll struggling with the things she’d learned earlier that day.

  “He stepped out for a few minutes,” he said. “He’s not far away, though.”

  Trynn relaxed back. “Oh.”

  “I see you made yourself right at home,” Eris teased, gesturing at the laptop that had slipped down between Trynn’s leg and the back of the couch when she woke.

  Completely unabashed, Trynn gave him an appraising stare. “I was doing research on you while you slept.”

  “And?”

  “You’re an art thief,” she accused, narrowing her eyes. “I hacked into your laptop.”

  Eris snorted. “I guess I should’ve seen that coming, huh? Though I prefer the term collector.”

  Trynn didn’t respond to his attempt at humor. “That’s not all I found out. I…” She swallowed. “I was an art thief, too, wasn’t I?”

  Eris raised his eyebrows, surprised at her revelation.

  “How—” he began.

  “I dreamed it just now.” she said faintly. “I dreamed the past.”

  He caught his breath. “You dreamed it? You dreamed… us?”

  TEN

  TRYNN STARED UP AT ERIS’ beautifully sculpted features. The remnants of her dream shrouded everything in a hazy, comforting cloud. She could still feel his hands on her, untying laces, slipping through lengths of soft fabric, dragging clothing up and off. Her heart pounded in her ears as the echo of sensation sang along her nerves.

  Eris’ eyes darkened, his pupils growing large as he gazed down at her.

  Can he sense my arousal? Trynn wondered. She pressed her knees together, trying to restrain the urge to leap on him then and there.

  If I don’t get up and get some space between us, this is going to end very badly. Or possibly very well… depending on how you look at it, she thought, a bit wildly.

  The dreams had been so vivid—so real that she could no longer hold onto her doubts about the validity of Eris’ claims. How could her mind possibly formulate such vivid images and sensations based on nothing but the random synaptic firings that supposedly made up dreams? How could a dream encompass another entirely separate life?

  Trynn was no idiot. She understood that there were things in the world that she didn’t understand. Was the existence of angels and demons and vampires and soulmates really so far-fetched? Was it so impossible that reincarnation existed? Right now, Trynn didn’t think it was.

  Of course, all of these musings basically meant that her wild dreams of carefree and uninhibited sex surrounded by a room full of beautiful treasures were more than likely real.

  “We were… happy once,” she whispered. “Weren’t we?”

  His voice was hoarse. “Yes. We were.”

  “Maybe we could be happy again?” Trynn asked in a soft voice, watching him.

  Eris swallowed hard, clearly struggling with some powerful emotion. His breathing quickened as Trynn searched his face for answers.

  She laid her hand on his arm and traced her fingers up perfect skin, smooth and unblemished. She could feel the electric pulse between them… feel the goose bumps erupting beneath her touch—tiny, dark hairs standing at attention. She knew—without knowing how she knew—that he loved soft, ghost-like touches. She also knew that he liked the scratch of fingernails across his back, and the sensation of her legs locking around his hips, pulling him in deep.

  They had spent only a few hours in each other’s company, yet her familiarity with him was absolute.

  She trailed her nails down his arm, pressing harder so that they dragged across his skin. He reached out with his free hand, quick as a snake, and caught her wrist in a tight grip. Trynn felt a thrill of excitement pass through her body.

  He lifted her trapped wrist up to his nose, smelling her skin and rubbing its sensitive underside against his stubble.

  “Your scent,” he said, his eyes falling closed. “Like jasmine and musk on a summer night. How can it be exactly the same, after so long?”

  Trynn rolled up, propping herself on her left arm so they were eye level with each other. He let her wrist slide free from his grip, his eyes flickering down to her mouth and back up. Her tongue darted out instinctively to moisten her lips.

  A callused, long-fingered hand cupped her cheek, as though she were something precious. The electricity between them crackled with renewed tension.

  “Phaidra…” Eris breathed, framing her face in both hands. His expression was lost. Dazed. The expression of a man staring at an oasis in the desert, expecting it to melt into a mirage and disappear as soon as he reached for it.

  Something about that look pierced Trynn’s heart like a blade. She couldn’t bear it, and she would do anything it took to remove it. She grabbed Eris’ sleep-rumpled collar in her fist, jerking him forward until their lips crashed together.

  As though a dam inside him burst, Eris responded, pressing Trynn down into the soft cushions of the couch as he plundered her mouth. She kept her vice-like grip on his abused shirt as insurance he would not pull away, and moaned into the kiss as one of his hands raked over her stomach, searching for bare skin.

  The first brush of his fingertips against the burning flesh of her belly was like a lightning bolt. They both gasped in reaction, and Eris pulled away from the kiss. Trynn stared deeply into his gold-flecked eyes, desire for him radiating outward from her center until she thought it must surely be pouring from her skin like a beam of light, illuminating her from within.

  Slowly, his fingers slid further underneath her shirt. Trynn arched into the contact and smiled in satisfaction when his palm pressed greedily against her skin, no longer teasing. He spread his fingers, his large hand possessively spanning her flat stomach, and Trynn felt the burn of fresh desire between her legs, as the air around them seemed to heat.

  Eris angled his upper body over hers as they resumed the kiss. His hand was fully underneath her shirt now, working steadily upward toward her aching breast. Trynn’s legs fell open of their own accord, as if inviting Eris to cradle his body between them. The small movement did not go unnoticed, and a low growl rumbled in the back of his throat.

  His tongue and teeth traced the edge of Trynn’s jaw line until his lips met the soft skin of her throat. She shivered with pleasure, the sensation sending waves of hot and cold down the length of her body. She could feel the tip of his tongue teasing her skin before his lips and teeth closed over the same spot, worrying at it. He kept at it, utterly single-minded until he had driven her into a frenzied state of nearly animalistic need.

  She was only vaguely aware of his rapid breathing, and the fine tremor that had taken up residence in his sleek, athletic frame. It was only when he pulled back rather abruptly and dropped down to sit on his heels next to the couch that she truly took in the wild look in his dark eyes.

  That look called to her own wildness, and Trynn tried to pull him forward again to resume her exploration of his mouth. He resisted the movement.

  “No,” he said in a rough voice and covered her hand with his. Clearing his throat, he continued, “I’m sorry, Trynn. If we keep going, I don’t think I could… stop myself.”

  Trynn’s desire-muddled brain tried to make sense of that statement, and failed. Wasn’t it the point of sex not to stop? Her confusion must have been evident on her face. Eris leaned forward to place his lips over her jugular, and kissed her there twice, very softly, the points of his teeth rasping against the thin, delicate skin.

  The rush of understanding made Trynn suck in a breath, her body suspended on the knife-edge separating horror and dark, forbidden lust. The image of those sharp fangs sinking into the flesh of her neck during the throes of passion was simultaneously terrifying, and the single hottest thing she’d ever imagined.

  Before she could act on the insane idea of trying to test Eris’ resolve, he pulled away again and stood up, turning away from the couch and running one hand over his face as if to clear away cobwebs.

  “Gods,” he muttered—hair mussed, shirt rumpled, and stil
l breathing heavily.

  Trynn’s answering groan was not one of pleasure. More a combination of fear, dark excitement, and a truly staggering degree of sexual frustration.

  Great. He’s the hottest thing I’ve seen on three separate continents. I’ve never been so fucking turned on in my life. Aaaand… now he’s walking away from me. Maybe the forces of Satan really are controlling my life.

  Before she could do anything too humiliating—like begging, or, y’know, jumping up from the couch and rutting against his leg—Trynn scrambled to her feet and awkwardly excused herself to the bathroom.

  Standing before the mirror, she glared at her own reflection, roundly cursing would-be suicide bombers, ancient demons, the Russian mafia, and hot vampires with their goddamned oral fixations.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” she grated, still feeling like one giant ball of aching need.

  She took a deep, slow breath. And another. And another.

  It didn’t help.

  She looked around. The bathroom in this place was goddamned epic; she’d noticed it when she’d ducked in that afternoon to use the toilet. She’d lived in flats that were smaller, for one thing. In addition to the marble vanity with two sinks, there was a giant walk-in shower enclosed in glass, with four showerheads arrayed around the top. The entire far end of the room was devoted to a sunken, jetted tub large enough to accommodate two people who didn’t even particularly like each other.

  No, Trynn, stop right there. Do not think about two people in the freaking jet powered mega-tub! Not. Helping.

  A line of bottles containing bubbles and bath oils stood along one edge like colorful soldiers. Fluffy towels hung on warming racks. A pristine white bathrobe hung on the inside of the bathroom door.

  Making an abrupt executive decision, Trynn crossed to the tub and turned on the tap, adjusting it until steam billowed up from the depths. She examined the bottles and poured in the contents of a couple that appealed to her, then stripped out of her clothing and stepped in.