by Jill Myles
“Your eyes are so blue,” he said, catching my hand with his good one, pulling me back down close to him. “You must be in terrible distress.”
A good, if old-fashioned, way to put it. My clothes were chafing my ultra-sensitive skin, and I had to resist the urge to fling them off and jump on him. “You’re wounded, I’m dirty, and we’re both worn out,” I reasoned, trying to remain strong in the face of opposition.
His fingers skimmed my cheek, brushing away sand. “Liar. You don’t get tired.”
I looked into his eyes, seeing the rim of red slowly flaring into the black irises. He was interested, all right, wounded or not. I averted my eyes, my gaze landing on the black waterfall of feathers edging gracefully over the bed. “Your wings are so beautiful,” I said, enthralled by the sight of them. “Can I touch them?”
His eyes flared red and he gave a jerky nod.
My hand stretched out, gingerly touching the feathers. The interior feathers were extremely soft and downy, the ones on the edges harder and longer. My fingers trailed over the smooth, shining fall with wonder. “They’re incredible.”
He remained silent, and I looked over at him. His eyes were bloodred, watching my every move with unnerving intensity. His fangs grazed his lower lip, and his hands were curled into fists that shook ever so slightly.
“Don’t,” he said softly.
I pulled my hands away from his wings. “Does it hurt when I touch them?”
Zane’s voice was a low growl. “If you touch them again, I’m going to throw you back on this bed, throw your legs over my shoulders, and fuck you. And not gently, like I want to. Because I won’t be able to control myself.”
The images flashed through my mind with breathtaking intensity. “Oh,” I said, feeling a twinge of disappointment that he was so controlled. I clasped my hands on my lap. “You … you wanted them back?” I wasn’t sure how to phrase my question. “The wings?”
“I fell for the love of a woman, just like every other Serim,” he said, his hot eyes intent on me. “I left Heaven behind for her, and when she was taken from me, I had nothing left but an eternity without her.” He looked away, and the room filled with silence. “When Nitocris offered, I took the chance, hoping for … well, never mind that. I was young and foolish, and I didn’t know everything that her bargain entailed.” He gave me the lopsided, self-incriminating grin that was becoming so familiar, and my heart flipped in my chest. “We all do things we regret at some point.”
I had to have him. Vampire or not, enemy or not, I was drawn to his tortured soul. I wanted to pull him to my breast and make him forget all about her. I wanted to kiss him so hard that he’d never remember her and think of me. I wanted to be the only woman he thought about.
“Zane,” I breathed, putting my hand on his knee and leaning into him. Mindful of his injured hand, I gently tilted him back on the bed, those marvelous wings tucked underneath him and almost out of sight. His few simple, sweet words had wormed into my heart, and I wondered if this was the real Zane, the one who hid behind the brash, laughing exterior.
It nearly drove me mad with desire.
I straddled him, pressing my hips against his erection and sliding my hands under his black shirt, wanting to feel his skin against mine.
“Zane,” I murmured. “I can’t hold out for much longer.” I slid my wrist against his mouth, and felt his teeth scrape against it. “Use my blood to heal your hand.”
“Are you sure?” His question was a warning, even as his lips nuzzled the soft skin of my inner wrist.
Hell no, I wasn’t sure. My feelings for Zane conflicted with my loyalty to Noah, and I didn’t know what I wanted—except that I wanted to climb on top of him and let him take me to the longest, slowest, hardest climax I’d ever had.
“You use me,” I said, sliding my hand down his chest, “and I’ll use you.” His hips fit just right under my own, rubbing against the juncture of my thighs in the most sinful way.
His teeth broke the skin of my wrist, and he was unable to hold back any longer. I felt a soft, gentle pull as he sucked on my skin. Desire flared through me white-hot, and I moaned and rubbed my hips against his harder. His tongue moved against my wrist, and just the barest of sensations drove me wild.
“Zane,” I begged, “I want you.”
No response.
“I need you,” I pleaded.
Still no response.
I pulled my wrist away and leaned in for a fierce kiss …
And a gentle snore came from his lips.
“What the—” I shook Zane slightly, in total disbelief that he’d fall asleep at such a crucial moment. As anger cleared my fog of passion, I realized that sunlight was streaming through the panes.
“Goddamn it! This no-daylight shit is pissing me off.”
I stared at his beautiful face with longing. Something inside him was noble, even if he didn’t like to show it, and that part of him called to me like nothing I’d ever felt before.
I finally hauled myself off him and headed for the bathroom and a cold shower. On the way, I grabbed the breakfast plate.
If I couldn’t have the man, pancakes and bacon was the next best thing—right?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Several long, agonizing hours later, I sat with Remy in the hotel restaurant, clutching my coffee cup in shaking hands. “I don’t know what to do with myself. My whole body aches; it feels like I’ve been beaten with a stick. I’m exhausted, frazzled, and tense, and I know it all has to do with the Itch.”
Shrugging, Remy licked her fingertip and ran it along the empty baklava tray, catching a few crumbs and bringing them to her mouth. “I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s just sex.”
“It’s not just sex,” I protested. The waiter came to refill our water glasses, and I whispered, “It’s the principle of being enslaved to your loins.” The waiter smiled at me, his eyes clearly interested, and my mouth began to water. I forced myself to avert my eyes and gulp the liquid down.
Remy shook her head. “Consider it self-preservation, then.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re on a one-way ticket to Hell if you keep this up.” She paused, waiting for the waiter to leave.
He slid a napkin under my water glass, and I noticed he had a room number written on there. Cute. Real cute. He bowed and left.
Remy leaned in. “So tell me, what do you think destroys a succubus?”
My Itch-induced squirming ceased immediately, and I stared at her. “Destroyed? Why are we talking about being destroyed?” This roller coaster of an Afterlife might suck, but that didn’t mean I wanted it to be over.
Remy licked her fingertips languidly. “I’ve seen it happen two different ways. One,” she flicked a finger up, admiring her shell-pink fingernail. “Both of your masters bite it. They go, you go. It’s the rules of the game I’m afraid.”
“Well, I don’t plan on destroying Noah—we’re on this whole sorry trip to save his ass. And since I don’t know who my vamp master is, there’s not much chance in destroying him.”
“Oh, he’s around, if I don’t miss my guess. Vamps wouldn’t miss out on the opportunity to have a succubus at their beck and call, trust me. Enough succubus blood, and even they get immunity to our powers—so I’m sure the queen’s itching to get you back in hand.” There was a note of pain in her voice, and she cleared her throat. “Anyhow, the second way for a Suck to die is by starvation.”
“You mean … ?”
She nodded, all seriousness. “You’re just hurting yourself with this hold-out, kiddo. If you plan on seeing this abstinence thing through, it’s all downhill from here. Your hair will get dull and fall out, your skin will wrinkle up, and you’ll crack under the pressure. Pretty soon your body’s going to be in intense pain, too, if I don’t miss my guess.”
My throat went dry. “How … how long does that take?”
“A couple of weeks,” Remy said.
A few weeks? I cringed at th
e thought. I was going stark, raving nuts after being overdue a day and a half. “I’d go mad,” I admitted, hating myself for conceding to the Itch.
“Yeah, that’s usually one of the first things to happen,” Remy agreed cheerfully.
So I was truly trapped in this lifestyle for eternity. I forced my shaking fingers around my coffee cup and tried to breathe like a normal woman. “How long have you gone without?”
“Five days,” Remy said flatly. “Not by choice, and trust me when I say it’s not something you want to go through.”
Numb with misery, I felt unable to focus my brain. “I miss Noah.” I thought of his warm smile and his protectiveness of me. His ass that wouldn’t quit. “I didn’t realize how good I had it with him. So right now basically I’m stuck with Zane, then.”
She snorted at me. “Not hardly, girl. If I were you, I’d avoid the fanged persuasion and find yourself a little piece of Egyptian tail. Like this one.” She pushed the napkin with the phone number toward me. “Or Stan. He’s damn good in the sack, and I’m not the jealous type. You’re welcome to borrow him for a few hours.”
The thought left me slightly nauseous. “I’ll pass, thanks. Where is he anyhow?”
Remy waggled her eyebrows. “He’s catching up on some much-needed rest.”
I raised a hand in the air. “Spare me the details, thanks.”
She lifted her coffee mug with a grin. “The offer’s on the table if you want it, and I’d recommend this afternoon.” Remy sipped, then continued. “But since I’m sure you won’t take me up on it, what do you plan to do this afternoon to kill some time?”
The first real enthusiasm I’d felt for this excursion bubbled over. “My boss at the museum mentioned that the Museum of Antiquities here has one of the best Old Kingdom collections to be found. She suggested that we look here for stuff about Queen Nitocris.” My hands clasped together eagerly. “I can’t wait to go spend the day there among the treasures. I thought I’d head there after I picked up my film.”
Remy looked like I’d suggested going to the dentist. “Riiiight. Boy, that sure sounds like fun.” She checked her watch. “Wow, is it noon already? I—”
I laughed. “Nobody said you have to come with me, Remy. I don’t mind going by myself.”
Relief showed on her face. “Are you sure? With those slavers you were telling me about …”
“That’s why I’ve got this.” I reached into the tote bag at my side and pulled out a new black burqa I’d bribed a bellhop into buying for me. Boobs were sometimes a good thing. “This is the best disguise a girl could ask for.”
Remy raised her coffee mug. “Cheers to that, then.”
I clinked my mug against hers, my smile forced. “So what are you going to do while I’m gone?”
A wicked smile curved her lips. “I think I’ll see if Stan’s awake.”
“We’ll take a quick break before proceeding to the next portion of our tour, the Amarna period and Akhenaten, the heretic king.” The tour guide’s voice was monotone with boredom.
I dog-eared the page on my guidebook and sat on a nearby bench. No one sat next to me. I expected as much; the museum was filled with American and Canadian tourists, all of whom gave me a wide berth at the sight of my burqa.
It was nice to fade back to invisibility, even if just for an afternoon.
While the tourists milled around me, I reached into my purse and pulled out my newly developed photos and began flipping through them.
The images from the tomb were backlit with blackness, courtesy of the cheap flash camera. I stared at the painted figures in each photo, wondering if I had missed a clue. There were several of what must have been Nitocris, her hands upraised to the heavens. Her face looked just like every other Egyptian queen, but I now recognized her black cloak as a stylized image of wings. The next photo was a larger shot of the queen’s wig-covered head, the Double Crown and Uraeus on her brow. Her thin mouth curved up in a half smile, which creeped me out a little. In the other pictures she was unsmiling and grim. The elongated hands were raised to the sun, and in the center of the sun there was a faded symbol that reminded me of the one on Noah’s wrist. The angelic alphabet—how curious.
“If everyone is ready, we can proceed to the next room,” the tour guide announced.
I slid the eerie smiling photo into my guidebook and quickly pocketed the rest of them, nearly tripping on my long burqa as I rushed to join the group.
The tour guide cleared her throat. “Akhenaten was the most hated pharaoh in all of Egypt. He took the happily polytheistic society and tried to convert everyone to the religion of the one god, the Aten, who was symbolized by the sun.”
The docent launched into a long, droned spiel about Akhenaten’s reign in the New Kingdom. It was amazing how one person could make an interesting subject so damn dull. Restless and bored with her presentation, I flipped through my guidebook, looking for objects of interest. I wanted to get away from the New Kingdom stuff and head to the second floor, where the Old Kingdom artifacts were kept.
I looped around the tour group to the back of the room, browsing through the artifacts. The sun was due to set soon, and I was anxious to get back to the hotel. Just the thought of Zane sleeping in my bed made my breath catch, and I fanned myself with the guidebook. Idly, I paused near a broken, wigless bust and glanced down at the plaquard. Nefertiti. I’d never been a big fan of hers; she looked cold and arrogant in all of the sculptures and paintings I’d seen, and this one was certainly no different. The beautifully sculpted lips were curved at the edges in a thin, almost bitter smile.
I paused. I’d seen that look somewhere before. Crouching low, I circled the glass case and peered at the bust from all angles. Where had I seen that regal, go-to-Hell look before?
“… built a temple to the one god, the Aten,” the docent droned.
Something clicked in my mind.
I whipped out the photo tucked into my guidebook and stared at the picture. On a hunch, I headed to the back of the exhibit, looking for tomb paintings from the Amarna period. Sure enough, there was one along the wall, and I held up the photo next to a picture of the Akhenaten’s queen.
Hands upraised, she appeared to be supplicating, a thick black cloak covering the shoulders of her followers.
Wings.
“Of course,” I muttered to myself, as I made my way out of the crowded museum. “The first church wasn’t a church to God at all, but Nitocris’s worming her way back into Egyptian history.”
This certainly threw a kink into things. I raced out of the building and headed for the nearest taxi, burqa flying.
I needed to talk to Zane.
“It’s Amarna!” I entered into my hotel room with a triumphant smile, a stack of travel brochures clutched in my free hand, burqa tucked under my arm. “I figured it out.”
Zane sat up in my bed and rubbed his face with his good hand, his hair tousled and falling over his forehead. His bad hand looked nearly healed, the skin merely reddened now. He gave me a sleepy look, a hint of red peeping out from heavy-lidded eyes. “Evening, Jackie. You’re in a good mood.”
His voice caused me to come to a screeching halt. My muscles seized up at the sight of him looking so sexy in my bed, and I had difficulty breathing. The air around me became heavy and uncomfortable, and I moved as if in a fog. “Zane,” I breathed, my voice taking on a seductive timbre that caused his eyes to flick bright red with interest.
“Itch bothering you much?” He kept his voice light, though his eyes blazed red, betraying his interest. I could see the gleam of fangs against his lips.
“Not at all,” I lied, slinking over to the bed and staring down at him. Blood pounded in my ears. “I’m not sleeping with you.” My hands trembled from the sheer force of my body’s response to his proximity. It was taking all my effort just to remain upright.
Zane stood and came to my side. He took the brochures from my clenched hand and tossed the burqa into a nearby chair. “You’re torturing yo
urself over nothing, Jackie. Don’t you realize that?” His hand went to my shoulders and he began to knead the tense flesh at the base of my neck.
Weak at his touch, I sat on the bed, my head rolling forward to allow him free access. “Sex is not ‘nothing’ to me. And I don’t like being forced into doing anything.”
“Don’t do it because you have to, then. Do it because you want to.” His fingers trailed over the sensitive flesh of my neck, and I nearly came unglued at the gentle touch. “I like you; you like me. What’s wrong with sating our mutual urges?”
“Everything. It’s all messed up.”
His hand slid away from my neck. “Do you want me to find you someone to take care of your needs? I guarantee any sane man would be willing.” His voice was solicitous, neutral.
I pulled my legs up and hugged them against my chest, feeling miserable at the desire that raged through my body. “I don’t want a stranger.”
“Noah, then?” His voice was decidedly cold.
I glanced over at Zane in surprise and saw anger in his eyes. He was jealous of Noah? The thought was baffling.
Zane abruptly turned. I watched the sweep of his wings as he walked away, graceful and beautiful, so at odds with my conceptions of vampires. He picked up his trench coat and shrugged it onto his back, covering his wings and heading for the door.
“Wait,” I said, getting up and following him. “What’s wrong with you?”
He opened the door, ignoring me.
I grabbed it and slammed it shut before he could leave. “What’s eating you? I’m the one with the compulsion.”
Zane’s red glare met my blue one. “Do you think I don’t care about your feelings?”
I hadn’t given it much thought, to be honest. He was one of the bad guys, right? “I didn’t …”
“Didn’t what?”
In agony at this point, I just grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “I’m tired of all this crap.” My mouth planted on top of his, and flashes of light sparked in my brain.
