by Kayleigh Sky
Precious amber.
He leaned in again, and this time Jessa opened to him and sank back under Otto’s weight. With a groan, Otto pressed him down into the soft sheets. He pushed deep into Jessa’s hot mouth, shivering at the scrape of his fangs as they slipped out. He grazed his palms over the soft skin and dragged his thumb along the inside of Jessa’s hip. Jessa’s shudder shook him, his breath hot on Otto’s face as he yanked away and rolled his head on the covers. The arch of his back pushed his dick into the towel around Otto’s waist. His voice roughened and croaked. “I can’t… can’t help it.”
“Don’t help,” Otto whispered, silencing him with another kiss.
He rocked his hips, grinding into the space between Jessa’s legs. The hiss Jessa let out had an edge of pain to it. But Otto kept on until Jessa bucked against him, and when he rose and peered into Jessa’s eyes, they were glazed and senseless with lust. So pretty, the flush in his cheeks, the pearly shine of his fangs. The urge to touch overtook him and he slipped a finger into Jessa’s mouth. The little vamp closed his lips and sucked. The look in his eyes turned voracious.
“You like that,” Otto murmured.
His other hand had found Jessa’s cock. He kept his grip loose, barely touching, slowly drawing up until he circled the hot wet head with his thumb. Jessa’s mouth parted on another hiss. Otto pressed his finger against the tip of a fang and gasped as it pierced his flesh. Blood welled in a deep red ball. He stared in shock. Jessa moaned, his body as tight as a wire, thrumming with tension. Hunger fought with desire. Sweat beaded his upper lip and his eyes grew heavy. Fuck. It was beautiful. The raw desire. His tongue flicked out, searching for the ball of blood. Spellbound, Otto’s gaze locked on his own hand as he extended it. Jessa panted, his eyes frantic now. He shook his head, whipped it back and forth until he flopped back on the pillow. He grabbed his cock and stroked it, lips still parted, tongue still visible.
Otto dropped to an elbow, pressing close. Jessa whimpered. “You want it,” Otto said. “You fed though.”
A guttural rasp emerged from Jessa’s throat. “Yours.”
A burning heat rose from Otto’s chest into his head. His heart thundered, his flesh itchy, sticking, aching. “Only mine,” he whispered.
“Yours.”
Fated.
Not Wen’s. Nobody else’s. Not even Isaac’s.
But if he did it? If he fed Jessa? Would he ever escape? Would he be like Dawn, Jessa’s mother, an alien among a people never to be hers, forever exiled from her own world? Would he understand Maisie? Finally.
Jessa rolled his head again, catching gold and ruby strands on his sweaty cheeks. Otto tugged his towel off, swiped his finger on it, and dropped it on the floor. Moans rolled out of Jessa’s mouth. “I got you,” Otto whispered.
A thunderous roar filled Otto’s head. A storm, a quake, rumbling louder and louder. His dick throbbed, reddish purple, jerking at the touch of the air. He ached to be in the vamp beneath him, buried in his sweet ass, a place so hot he’d melt in its embrace. Mine.
He spun away, gone only long enough to grab the lube from his bag.
The scent of arousal filled the air. Oddly floral and woodsy at the same time. Working his arms under Jessa’s legs, he rolled him and stroked his dick between Jessa’s ass cheeks. The soft rasp against his flesh soothed him and stilled the storm in his head. Jessa panted, but sense had come into his eyes again. He licked his lips. Otto bent down and kissed him. “In me,” Jessa whispered. “Be in me.”
“Yes.”
He snapped the cap on the tube and drizzled lube onto Jessa’s hole. A shudder shook the vampire when the liquid landed on his hot skin. Otto dropped the tube and rubbed around Jessa’s hole with his thumb. His golden red hair glistened and his hole contracted. “You want,” he murmured, rubbing harder until the little hole loosened and let Otto’s thumb slide in.
“Want,” Jessa agreed.
He swiveled his hips.
Otto stroked himself with his slick hand, pointed his dick between Jessa’s cheeks, and pushed inside him.
Jessa’s groan sent shivers down his spine.
Mine, mine…
But Jessa wasn’t. Not in this world. Jessa was a vampire. Conquered and conqueror. But here—and now—Jessa gave way. His steely strength softened around Otto’s cock, warm and welcoming. As Otto sank in, he slid across Jessa’s gland and shuddered as hot flesh clenched around him. Jessa stroked Otto’s arms and shoulders, dug in with his fingers, rolled his head back and whispered, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck…”
The light in the room grew bright, the shadows gone. Jessa’s skin was as luminous as marble, his eyes as dark as a twilit lake. Could he dim? Fade away, so all Otto had of him was sensation? Satin and steel and scorching heat? He thrust into a furnace, going faster and faster, kicking the flames into a conflagration. His heart ignited. Cries fell from Jessa’s lips and swirled in his head with the roaring winds of fire. Lightning struck and raced down his spine. Jessa grunted, his nails digging into Otto’s skin, body rigid, dragging at Otto’s dick until Otto exploded, his climax swooping down like the rocks on Celestine City, burying him in darkness.
Mine…
43
A Pissed-Off King
As he had the last time he was here, the King defied Otto’s expectations. Clad in jeans and a plain white T-shirt, he strode barefoot down the hall.
“Who was this dead human?”
The vamp turned his face away as he spoke but not before Otto caught a glimpse of despair in his eyes.
They passed portrait after portrait down a hall Otto would swear was longer than the house.
Zev had cooked their breakfast in a kitchen with white cupboards and a black and white checkered floor. No servants anywhere.
“It’s just us,” Zev had said. “My cousins are asleep.”
Vampires hiding from the sun that had poured into the kitchen.
Before departing with Otto after breakfast, Zev had opened the back door and gestured Jessa outside. “My gardens. Enjoy.”
Now they were talking about dead people. Mateo.
“I thought he witnessed Acalliona’s murder,” Otto said.
“Yet he didn’t go to the police.”
“No, but that’s no surprise, not for a street kid.”
“Kid? Do you mean that literally? How old was he?”
Otto shrugged. “About twenty.”
Zev’s relief was obvious. His face, whitewashed in the light streaming into the hall, warmed with color.
They reached a door, and Zev paused. “You thought he was a witness. What do you think now?”
“A friend of the witness.”
Zev humphed. “We’re talking about a human, right? A human who might know the identity of the murderer?”
“If he’s still alive,” Otto said. “The dead boy, Mateo, told another friend that the kid disappeared shortly after the murder. Mateo hid because he guessed he’d be suspected and only surfaced because he’d run out of money. His friend Isaac, Jessa’s donor, was going to give him enough to disappear.”
They turned a corner and entered a library. But instead of the grandeur Otto was expecting, the room was cozy and comfortable. A fire burned in the giant fireplace, and here too the windows stretched from floor to ceiling, but they were narrow and nestled between book shelves.
“Sit,” said Zev, gesturing to the chairs in front of the fireplace. “Forgive the long walk. I think better here because it reminds me of home. The greatest library ever imagined was in Celestine City, you know. Carved out of rock crystal. Of course it was destroyed.” He waved his hand. “I have reminders.”
Otto had his picture of Maisie. His reminder of what he needed to do. As he sat, his gaze rose to the portrait over the mantle piece. Zev. The pose was strange and striking, nothing like the portraits in the hallway. His hair was loose, his elbow braced on something off the canvas, chin resting on his thumb, eyes glittering and blood hot. His shirt was red, and he wore a neck
lace like Jessa’s. So human.
Otto met Zev’s curious gaze. “This has more to do with your people than mine.”
Zev smiled. “Sounds like you want to discontinue the investigation.”
“Can I?”
“I’d prefer not.”
“Why am I here?”
Zev’s face went cold, his eyes like ice. “Why is a human and another vampire dead? Did you misunderstand what I wanted from you?”
Otto flared. “You expect me to stop a vampire?”
“Too many vampires wouldn’t want to stop another vampire, Detective Jones. That’s why I have you.”
“You want to.”
“I have nothing against humans.” He waved his hand again, the ring that had once belonged to the Seneras winking in the light. “Not all of us do. It’s the others I’m thinking of. I trust you. You have a promise to keep.”
Those last words sank deep into Otto’s chest and took up space. His lungs struggled. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“You aren’t as transparent as you think. You were fired, you know? And you had multiple warnings. You’ve been on the downslide for a long time. You want what I want. It doesn’t matter if we want it for different reasons.” Zev leaned forward, elbow on his knee, thumb at his chin, mimicking the pose above. His thumb rubbed at his chin, rasping slightly. A slow smile lifted his lips and his eyes heated to melting again. “I have enemies. I brought a peace that offends my own people. Killing is nothing to them. Your sister. An innocent boy. We have suffered for thousands of years, paying for a crime none of us remember outside of myth. We fell into darkness, but the darkness that lurks now is deeper by far. It is a darkness of the soul. Who are the elusive murderers in my midst?”
A vision of fog came to Otto, and he clamped down on a shiver as his thoughts went to Jessa.
He reminded himself vampires didn’t matter to him. This was about Maisie and the hatred in him of those who fed off others. At the bottom of it, nobody got away with murder if he had a say.
“You tell me,” Otto said.
Zev glowered. “I hired you.”
“You aren’t paying me.”
Zev grinned, his fangs sliding down, tattooed with an intricate design that looked like wings, but the tiny image was a blur that vanished as Zev’s grin disappeared. “Consider your payment due on delivery.”
“You’re keeping something from me,” Otto said.
Zev rested both elbows on his knees now, shoulders bent, no trace of humor on his face anymore. His eyes had darkened to something beyond black, to a lightless pit where Otto imagined his demons lay. “A human boy is dead. Two vampires. At a minimum. Why in God’s name would I keep anything from you? Hate is a power that consumes everything in its path and bides its time in the dark if it has to. Things crawl out into the open when good people pay no attention. Why hate drainers? They feed on humans. We have always fed on humans and, yes, the evil among us have taken lives that weren’t theirs to take. All the old stories are true.” He flicked his hand in a quick wave. “We have lived off each other, Detective. And you have killed mine. The old, infants, buried in rubble. I have every right to rage, but of what use is it? I am the king of my kind. I could embrace a thousand years of war, and they would follow. I do not want war. You, me, too many others, we have all lost too much. Family, friends, lovers…” He faltered for a moment, or maybe it was the pause as he sat back in his chair that made it seem so. “Somebody wants to destroy what I have built. I want you to stop them. I don’t want anybody else dead. I will drain you myself, Otto Jones, if you fail me in this.”
For fuck’s sake.
Otto gripped the arms of his chair, tightening his body. The heat in his face grew. “Don’t fucking threaten me. It’s not an incentive. I will do my job because it’s not in me to let a murderer go free. Maybe it’s payback for my sister too, maybe it’s for Jessa, but I don’t give up.”
“I know,” said Zev. “That’s why I hired you.”
Otto stood. “The necklace.”
Zev frowned. “What?”
“The necklace in the picture. I noticed a couple in the portraits in the hall too, all with writing on the stones.”
“It’s a common design, like our tattoos or your scrimshaw.”
“Jessa has one. So did my sister.”
Zev looked taken aback at the mention of Maisie. His expression grew reflective for a moment before he pushed himself from his chair and glanced at the portrait. “The Revelatory letters are meaningful to us, ancient, but they’re only symbolic. There’s no actual value to them. They mark the qualities we must learn before our return to God’s grace. They aren’t even unique to us, but at one time an amulet of a precious stone with a particular letter belonged to each of the seven families. For my family, it is Dilme, the symbol for resurrection. But the importance has become diluted with time, and necklaces like this are everywhere.”
“What happened to the real ones?”
“Lost, I guess.” Zev shrugged. “Or maybe they were just a myth.”
All the old stories are true.
Otto returned with Zev to the kitchen and stepped into the garden where Jessa stood gazing at the mist-shrouded trees.
44
A Pretty Postcard
Waves as gray as granite crashed against slick black rocks, and lichen dripped from the cypress trees. Jessa hugged himself, standing coatless and barefoot on a path that led to a rocky cliffside.
“Hey.” Arms closed around Jessa’s shoulders, squeezing him tight. “What are you doing?”
“Looking. It’s scary. Like the lakes underground. Black and bottomless.”
Otto tightened his grip. “You remember that?”
The flash of memory startled him. Not that it was a bad memory, only that he didn’t think he had any of Celestine. Yet, it was there. The memory of a still, black surface spreading into a darker dark.
“Maybe I remember. I don’t know. Maybe I saw a picture. It scares me to think people might still be living down there.”
“Why?”
“What kind of people would do that?”
Otto was silent, and Jessa thought maybe he wasn’t going to answer.
“My dad was that kind of pissed. Not able or willing to get over it.” Otto’s voice turned heavy, and when Jessa turned in his arms, he was frowning. “I guess that was me too.”
“I’m not sure I hate my life,” Jessa murmured. “I wouldn’t be here with you. I wouldn’t have my gardens or romances. If Celestine still stood, Rune would be king though, and I’d have my mom. I wish she had lived, but I don’t hate my life. I’d be scared to go back.”
Otto rubbed Jessa’s face with his cheek. “You don’t have to.”
Of course not. Who would make him go back into the dark? But he was still afraid.
“Let’s do something fun.”
Otto nodded. “You got it.”
The Cypress Inn, where they were staying now because it was closer to Gem Fest, offered shuttle rides into town where they explored the shops that lined both sides of a wharf. When the sun fell low, they headed back in the direction of a restaurant that overlooked the bay.
“Wait,” said Otto. “I want to look in here.”
The shop Otto stepped into was a small, snug square filled with crystal necklaces and sun-catchers hanging from the ceiling. A U-shaped display case took up the center of the floor, and posters and paintings hung on the wall.
A woman behind the counter by the door smiled at them. “Let me know if you need any help.”
Jessa headed to the display case, but glanced back when Otto said, “Did you paint these?”
He stood by a rack of postcards.
“Not me,” the woman said. “A local artist brings them in.”
“Vamp?”
Jessa returned to Otto’s side.
“Human,” the woman said.
The postcard was painted in shades of brown and blue and white. A mountain against a blue sky. After a
moment, Jessa noticed the clouds formed the shape of the letter for forgiveness. A strange vertical wisp cutting through a pair of clouds formed an undulating horizontal wave. Weird.
“What’re the names of the mountain ranges around here? This isn’t part of it, I don’t think?”
The woman gave a perplexed frown and tapped her lips for a moment. “Well, the Santa Lucia and Gabilan, for sure, but I think… the San Benito is close, and the Diablo range is one, I believe.”
Otto rapped the card against the fingers of his other hand then set it back in the rack. “Thanks,” he said.
“Sure.”
They returned to the cold outside.
“What was that about?” Jessa asked.
Otto chuckled. “I have no idea. The picture just caught my eye. I have a feeling it should matter, but I don’t know why.”
“That was our mountain, wasn’t it?”
“It looked like it. A stylized version anyway.”
A few minutes later, they were sitting by a wall of windows. The restaurant was dark, decorated with wood and red and black leather, but the light at the windows was bright and silver. It lit Otto’s cheekbones but filled the hollows under his eyes with shadow.
“Tell me what you think is going on,” Jessa said.
Otto’s mouth twisted and he shook his head. “I should know, but I feel like I’m grasping at straws. Or postcards. The whole fake tattoo thing seems too far out there just to get some blood. Suppose Acalliona did think of himself as too good for a blood whore. So he went to some trouble to arrange luxury accommodations at home. But in a town he didn’t know? A blood whore would just be so much easier.”
“I know, but I told you. Some vampires despise blood whores even more than drainers. They wouldn’t want to.”
“But if they used them…”
Jessa thought about it. “They wouldn’t like it.”
“It might jack up their hatred even more,” Otto mused, dropping his gaze to his menu.
