Grave Shifter: Shades of Black (Shades of Black: Grave Distinction Series)

by Gretchen Rily

  He knew just how to work her, his lips, tongue and teeth working in perfect synchronicity with his hands as they roamed over her, pressing the backs of her knees, brushing across her nipples, scratching down her ribs. She came on a keening cry, fisting his hair so tight she may have pulled several strands free.

  Galen’s smug laugh roused her from the state of twitching satisfaction he’d put her into. Water fell from him as he hauled himself out of the pool, dripping onto her legs and belly. He reached down to grab her, but she swatted his hands away, snagging the waist of his soaked pants and yanking them down his legs.

  Her nails scored his legs as she did. The hiss of pleasure he gave reverberated in her bones. He grabbed her upper arms, pulling her to her feet before she could wrap her hands around the thick length of him.

  That wouldn’t do. She slapped her hands to his chest, letting her nails sink into his pecs so he would know she wasn’t kidding. Aiming for the chaise, she pushed him, shoving him to his back when his knees touched the end of the cushion.

  Scrambling on top of him, Penelope held him down by his shoulders as she straddled his hips. He tried to flip their position, but she gave him a little warning shake. “Sometimes, Galen, you get to be on the receiving end. Now just lay there and enjoy it.”

  His eyebrows shot up. The man looked thoroughly perplexed at the concept. Guess all those women he’d been forced to satisfy both before and right after he was turned were selfish. She wasn’t. Hadn’t been before, either, but Penelope figured being a plaything had screwed with his head. Reminding him was going be fun.

  She didn’t bother hiding her laugh as she bent down and ran her tongue up his neck the way she’d been dying to. The faint taste of chlorine from the pool did nothing to cover the taste of him, strong, alpha, and undeniably male. She let the sharp edge of her teeth run along his collarbone and was rewarded with his fingers digging into her upper hips.

  Prying his hands loose, she made her way down his body, teasing him with the slide of her belly, then her sternum, then her neck, as she settled over his erection. It only took a few swipes of her tongue for him to slide his fingers into her hair, the pads pressing against her scalp in encouragement.

  She knew she had him a few moments later when he started murmuring ancient Greek. She didn’t know the language, but she’d picked up a few words from him. Words for please and more tumbled from his lips, and colorful curse words as he got closer and closer.

  Galen didn’t let her finish. No one would ever believe him weak with the way he hauled her up his body. There would be bruises on her arms, but only for a few minutes. Grave shifters’ restorative powers had their advantages.

  His mouth slammed against hers, tongue invading. It was raw and desperate, and just how she wanted him. Reaching between them, she wrapped her hand around him, adjusting the angle and then pushing back, taking him deep.

  Galen’s movements were uncoordinated as he grabbed two fistfuls of her ass and leveraged himself deeper. Her back arched as she sat upright, head falling back with a little squeal.

  Her body readjusted to the feel of him inside her. Slapping a hand to his belly to force him to hold still, she wriggled her hips, letting him hit all her best spots before she set an easy rhythm. In the pale glow of the moon, he looked like a living sculpture. She was content to merely look at him, feel him inside her, and enjoy the moment.

  He let her lead, for a while. His hands skimmed over every inch of her he could touch, from the tips of her ears to her toenails, snugged against his thighs for balance. Occasionally, he’d do that tapping thing he’d done on her face the night before. She ran her hands over his torso, mimicking his movements. She tried the tapping herself, but he was too beautiful to close her eyes. Especially when he smiled.

  “Does it work with one’s eyes open?” he asked.

  She giggled. “I have no idea, but it’s sort of fun.”

  He smiled up at her, and a pulse of joy set off more giggles that turned into a moan when he rolled his hips. Orgasm built inside her again and she moved a little harder, grinding her hips down against his on every stroke.

  He rose up, opening his mouth over the patch of skin protecting the pulse in her neck. He gave a little pull that made her arch, the tilt of her hips drawing his erection over her clit with every stroke.

  A shockwave hit her when he dropped his feet to the floor on either side of the chaise, spreading her legs wider, giving him room to press even deeper. His arms banded her back as he sat up, her breasts mashing against his chest. There wasn’t much room for movement in this position, but it didn’t matter, it was enough to rock their hips together, the friction sending her over yet again.

  He’d have claw marks on his back, but she didn’t care. Her mind was shattered into a thousand fragments and her heart was racing.

  “I thought you’d come back,” he said, the words strained and rough as he neared his release. “Every night as I lay there, unable to feed, barely able to move, I listened for you. Unlike you, not to stand and deliver when you think you’ve been wronged.”

  It took a moment for the words to penetrate her pleasure soaked brain. Even when they did, all she could manage was a muffled, “Huh?”

  He raised his head, and there was a fierceness in his eyes she thought never to see again. Underneath that, a tinge of sadness, and her heart rolled over. Had she abandoned him?

  She opened her mouth to speak, but he changed their angle, bumping into that now over-sensitized spot inside her, and she jumped. As if he’d planned it, he flipped them, pinning her to the chaise and driving deep and hard. Any thought as to her response exploded from her brain as he drove deep one more time, his body going rigid above her. His fingers dug into her back as he came.

  Galen collapsed against her, and she soothed her hands over his back. Moments later, the silence bordering on uncomfortable, she nipped at his ear to lighten the mood. It was muffled, his face buried in the crook of her neck, but she thought he laughed.

  Then he took a long lick of her neck, the flat of his tongue raising goose bumps. “Stop,” she murmured. “Little recovery time here, please.”

  Now she knew he laughed. He propped himself up on his elbows and brushed the hair back from her face. “Isn’t that the man’s line?”

  Penelope put on her best put-out face and jabbed a finger into his ribs. Not enough to actually hurt, just enough to make his abs clench. “Perhaps for the rest of your kind, but obviously not for you. There, feel special now?”

  He leaned close, letting the tip of his nose touch hers. “I felt special back in that little cemetery when you reminded me what fun is.”

  She gaped, but he’d already levered himself off the chaise and lifted his arms over his head to stretch. The spit went to sand in her mouth at how gorgeous he was. Graceful like a feline predator and chiseled like fine art.

  He took her hands in his and pulled her up. Before she got her footing, he bent, catching her belly with his shoulder, and lifting her right off her feet. Her fight or flight response instantly kicked in, and she struggled in his hold, grabbing his hips in a death grip for purchase.

  “Easy love,” he teased. “Wouldn’t want the blind vampire to miss a step and crack your skull into a pillar or anything.”

  He had a very good point, she thought, as several stone pillars, and their sharp corners, came within inches of her eyes. He headed straight for the bathroom, not putting her on her feet until he’d turned on and adjusted the water temp.

  Some of her best parts said hello to his best parts as her feet slid to the floor. Galen cradled the back of her head in his hand, massaging gently as all the showerheads pummeled them with water. She was thoroughly boneless after what he’d done to her on the patio, and if he hadn’t been holding her up, she would have happily sunk to the floor in a happy pool of satisfied shifter goo.

  A moan echoed off the tile around them. When he chuckled, she realized it was her. The scent of the dandelions wafted through the enclos
ure as he massaged the shampoo into her hair.

  “I need to feed soon. You wore me out.”

  She smiled, tipping her head back to wash out her hair. “Don’t need you fainting from weakness, now do we?” She yawned. “I may take a nap while you’re gone.”

  Galen washed quickly. It was a delightful show. She sort of wished it lasted longer. He stepped from the shower and moved efficiently, the thick white towel only a blur. Before he left, he leaned back in and grabbed her close for a fast kiss. “Care for some breakfast? I can bring something back for you.”

  She shook her head and stretched. “There’s plenty to eat here. If you come across a jacket that doesn’t smell of demon innards, you can bring that back though.”

  He ducked his head and rubbed at his bottom lip with his thumb, then nodded and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

  ****

  Galen felt like a heel. First he lets her fall, and then he runs out the door while she’s still naked in the shower. Two thousand years old, and he still couldn’t handle his own softer emotions. Manipulate, connive, lie for his own ends? Those things he did easily. Open his heart to the one person his soul wanted? He ran like a child.

  The small bistro was noisy and filled with smoke. He was glad he didn’t breathe. Nevertheless, his lungs were tight. Tapping his fingers against the scarred wood beside his glass, he rethought his plan.

  If he told her the truth, that in order to kill Elsbithy, she would have to go within seconds of death, would she still do it?

  He threw back the wine, and while he savored the taste, it burned his mouth like acid. Within moments, the blood he’d drank healed the lesions. He set the glass down carefully, rolling the stem between his fingers. The glass fractured the light, and he focused on the glints.

  It didn’t matter if she would or not. Elsbithy would know it was a trap. He couldn’t tell her. Which meant telling her of his feelings would only make the betrayal worse for her. Her trust would be shattered as it was.

  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled the summons he’d stolen from Penelope’s pants when he woke. He had to squint, but he made out the lettering. As he suspected, the Council wanted him dead as well.

  “Another glass, sir?” the bartender asked, breaking into his thoughts.

  Galen pushed his glass forward. The splash of liquid into the glass sounded very different than the splash of wine into the goblets used during his mortal life. While he’d like to believe people were different as well, many were just as hungry for power, and just as willing to harness dark forces to gain it.

  The mysterious nature of the Council haunted him. His mother told stories about secret rituals in the woods outside their home in Greece. As a temple hetaera, she’d had more power than most women, but only by virtue of her access to powerful men and religious ritual. She’d often told him that he was destined to mystical power. He’d thought it rubbish, especially after being sold by a Roman general to a Celtic warlord for land.

  He wanted control of the Estate. The Council agreed to it in return for killing Elsbithy. The agreement came too easily, and his sanctioned assassination obviously why. But Penelope would be unable to carry it out. That gave him time to force his hand, to make them hand over the Estate so he could turn it back to its original purpose.

  Tossing money on the bar, Galen stood and picked his way through the crowd and out the door. People brushed against him, but he only wanted Penelope. He had intended no betrayal the first time he ran a sword through her. In the long view, he intended none this time either.

  His hand shook as he pressed it to his stomach, a useless effort to calm the roiling in his gut. He’d have time to learn to grovel before she rose.

  Chapter Seven

  The Estate reeked of death. Not the smell of decay and peace in the cemeteries she preferred, or the knowledge and history of catacombs, but the sticky fear of murder and stolen power.

  It was too quiet. Nothing moved. Not mice along the walls, not worms in the dirt. Not one living thing. Not even a spider web. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness. Ahead of them, in another room of the catacombs, a steady light seeped into the passageway. Through the hole where the doorknob should be, Penelope could see a fair distance in three directions. The catacombs appeared abandoned. Fat chance they actually were. It was faint, but the stench of hellhounds crinkled her nose.

  Lord Elsbithy had made some improvements of his own since Galen left. She’d been unable to shift into his cairn, now lined with some sort of hard man-made plastic. It had been a nearby storage area, disorganized with shovels and brooms and pickaxes. The tools of tomb building. Just dirt and some flimsy wooden boards. Not even stones.

  Someone was buried shallowly under the loosely packed dirt of the floor. It was the sort of place a shifter could manage on their very first shift.

  “This isn’t right,” Galen said behind her, his voice so quiet, yet so loud in the still space. “Shift us out of here.”

  “No.” With her fingertips, she eased open the door, sword drawn, hoping Elsbithy was arrogant enough to want to play first.

  The passageway was clear, and she stepped into it, taking a moment to stand in plain view from all directions. Nothing blinked, no cameras or other modern technology keeping track of them. Just the eery stillness.

  Galen eased into the passageway, his head tilting quickly as he searched for sounds. “Penelope.” The nerves in his voice sounded genuine. He reached for her arm, his hand shaking slightly.

  Just before he touched her, she dissipated. Following the map he’d shown her, she did a map of her own, moving through bones into each room. She had doubts about his plan. He’d been strong enough to escape, and Elsbithy had the smarts to figure out how to harvest grave shifters, so he had smarts enough to figure out Galen played at weakness.

  Something was weird. Her feet weren’t tingling. None of the tickling sensation she usually felt when standing over a shiftable grave, like whoever was in it was inviting her to sink down and cuddle for a spell. She could move through them, but she couldn’t draw any sustenance from them. Would she be able to shift out when the time came?

  Galen stood hunched into a corner when she reassembled in front of him. “Forget to tell me something?”

  His head shot up. “Such as?”

  “None of these bones want to curl up with me and read a book.”

  His shoulders relaxed. “Oh. Well, there are only a few whole skeletons. In the chamber I built to trap Elsbithy.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she got in his face. “The raised hair on the back of my neck tells me not to believe you.”

  “Penelope,” he whispered, cupping her jaw. “After all we’ve shared the past few nights, you still don’t trust me?”

  Her heart stuttered. “Something is off here. The rooms are different than you said.”

  “I told you he’s most likely made changes since I left. It’s been a long time, after all. We need to stick to the plan,” Galen urged, a little too vehemently.

  “No. Fuck the plan.” She straightened, pivoting on her heel and heading straight for the room that was all lit up. Galen shot to his feet, grabbing her arm before she could enter.

  He canted his head to the side, listening. Straining her ears, she heard nothing. She tugged on her arm, but he didn’t release her. “You’re right. Something is wrong. Shift us out of here.”

  Galen was jumpy. Too jumpy, as if he couldn’t make up his mind which course to take. He always made up his mind. His lack of confidence made the decision for her. Stepping closer, she raised her arms to encircle him for the shift, but a charge shot up through her feet, jarring her body. Her vision blurred and a sharp ringing sounded in her ears. Immediately, she tried to shift, even putting her hands to the bones lining the wall, but nothing happened.

  “Galen?” In the passageway, her voice echoed, sounding small and weak.

  Footsteps, heavy and ominous, came from the darkness at the very end of the passageway, drawing closer.
<
br />   “In here, love.” His hands were strong as he took her shoulders, guiding her backward through the doorway into the lit room.

  Her vision cleared, sharpened to high definition, as power like she’d never felt before closed around her. Every cell in her body vibrated, as if the power were trying to infuse her. It wasn’t malicious. It crashed around her with such confusion, but her feet tingled, a weight pressing down on her, as if the power were trying to suck her into the floor but couldn’t.

  Looking down, Penelope saw an intricate configuration of bones. A series of circles, long bones, as if from arms and legs, making the outermost circle, until, in the middle, a circle of skulls, their vacant eyes seeming to watch her with regret, and then an almost mosaic pattern of toe and finger bones. A rectangular trough broke the design just outside the skulls. Her brows drew together at the metal container inside it.

  Her feet moved without her permission, stepping onto the mosaic of small bones. The power surged around her, but she couldn’t shift into it. The breath seemed to saw into her lungs as she panted, raising her eyes to Galen. He stood behind her, opposite the door they’d entered through, leaning comfortably on her longest sword.

  “What the hell is going on, Galen?” she demanded.

  He lowered his chin to let her see his eyes over the rim of his sunglasses. “I’m sorry, Penelope. There wasn’t any other way.” Then he winked and pushed the glasses tight to his face.

  This was part of the plan then? She gripped the hilts of her other swords as the footsteps reached the doorway, halting with the swish of heavy, expensive robes. Evil washed through the room as Elsbithy stepped over the threshold.

  Stealing power must be a growth hormone. The swarthy complexion and refined features were the same, but he now stood almost seven feet tall, towering over Penelope as he stalked toward her.

  “How thoughtful of you, Galen,” he said, “bringing me my greatest desire. The only grave shifter to ever elude me. And on a night perfect for seizing her powers too. I knew you would come through. Eventually.”