Crave The Night by Michele Hauf, Sharon Ashwood, Lori Devoti & Patti O'Shea

by Michele Hauf

  He lifted his palms, and she relented her not-so-weak grasp about his collar. Faery glamour gave great strength. “Tonight’s business, Bree, not pleasure.”

  “Oh.” She stepped back.

  Clad in body-hugging white jersey, she looked a winter princess crowned by pale tresses, and sparkled like a century celebration cake. Club goers would suspect it was store-bought glitter. Rev knew better.

  “You wanted honesty,” he said. He nodded down the street where the pink neon flashed. “You still working at the club?”

  “No. What’s it to you?”

  “Nothing. Something. It makes me want to punch someone to imagine you taking off your clothes before a crowd of leering men.”

  “Yeah?” She didn’t hide a small smile. “I was visiting a girlfriend, helping with her routine. Only time I do the naked now is in the privacy of my own home.”

  “I’d like to see that sometime.”

  “It’s okay for you to leer but not others?”

  “I wouldn’t leer, Bree. I’d—” Worship. “Hell, I’m being rude.” He walked toward the stairs leading up to her flat. “Can we talk?”

  “Business? Nope, nadda, nein.”

  “We can either talk or I can rough you up.”

  Her jaw dropped.

  “I’m kidding. A little. Do you consider kisses rough stuff?” He smiled, trying to rescue the moment, and only failed a little.

  The faery softened, grinning, and gesturing he lead the way up. “I don’t know why I keep inviting you in but I’m doing it again.”

  Once inside she offered him blackberry tea, which he politely refused. Bree plopped onto the bed, which was the only furniture, save the bar stools. She sat cross-legged and patted the bed for him to join her.

  Rev remained standing, shoulders to the brick wall. She wasn’t being suggestive, but sharing the huge silk-covered bed with her was a no-man’s land he couldn't explore. Not yet.

  "Right," she said, and took a sip of tea before setting the cup on the floor. "Business."

  “Whatever it is you’ve been threatened with, I promise you safety, Bree. No wolf is going to bully you around and get away with it. I promise you that not because I’m working on the case, but because I care about you. You have my word.”

  “How can you care about someone you’ve known but a few days?”

  “You've been on my mind for months.”

  She glanced aside, conceding the point. “If we're all about honesty, then do you care about me or crave me?”

  He lifted a brow. Not so easy to answer, is it, tough vampire who is fighting the urge to lick the faery’s skin clean of any dust he can find? He’d never understood the meaning of crave until after biting Bree and consuming her luscious ichor.

  “Give me a name,” he said. Shoving his hands in his pockets he looked high, scanning the rafters. Anything to keep from admiring her soft, sparkly glow and those pale pink lips that pouted for a kiss. “Or even just a pack.”

  “It’s not that easy, Rev.”

  “Of course it is!” He lunged into her space, prepared to grip her shoulder and give her a swift shake. “You have to want to make it easy. Please, Bree.” He squatted before her. “Would it matter if I told you my reputation depends on your cooperation?”

  He shouldn’t have brought it to such a level—his desperation—but he didn’t know what else to do without breaching his self-imposed rules not to get involved with her.

  “Won’t they just send another vampire after me if you fail?”

  “Yes, they will. And the next one might not be so nice. He might like to rough you up and maybe get in a few punches if he thinks that’ll loosen your lips.”

  She stroked the tip of her tongue along her lower lip and cast a slow, sensual gaze at him. Teasing him when he was trying to interrogate her? The faery certainly wielded the tricks.

  Rev grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her hard and long. She wrapped herself about him, and moaned into his mouth as he matched her wanting pace.

  “Bree, you’re killing me.”

  “You don’t like kissing me?”

  “Love it. Need more. Deeper. All of you.”

  He lifted her in his arms and sat without breaking the kiss. Shifting her body, she straddled him, snugging her groin against his stomach. He slid his fingers along the slight curves of her body. Lithe and lean, the faery was more toned muscle than voluptuous curves. He liked that just fine.

  “Kissing me won’t get me to talk,” she murmured against his mouth. “In fact, it’ll keep my lips so busy I’ll never be able to say anything important.”

  “Bree, you steal my concentration. All I can do when I’m with you is think about how good it feels to touch you.” He slipped a hand under her dress and glided it along her thigh. Bad business practice, but impossible to resist. “Tell me to stop.”

  She arched her spine and her breasts brushed his chest. “I'm sorry, handsome, but…keep going.”

  Not what he needed to hear. Definitely what he wanted to hear.

  Rev kissed her through the white jersey, using his teeth to pull the neckline low and bite softly at the mounds of her breasts. So sweet, ever sweet and giving. She never tried to stop his advances when she knew they could be dangerous. How dare she?

  The same way he dared.

  Licking her skin, he tasted the essence of her, the dark menace of Faery and the macabre pleasure of its glittering seduction. Tingling on his tongue, dancing icy then hot against the back of his throat. Permeating his body and bones and shimmering into his heart.

  The puncture, teeth into flesh, happened instinctually. He bit shallow upon the mound of her breast, and licked at the flowing ichor. Bree cried out softly, a moan of delight as he sucked at her, and drew her into the giddy swoon a vampire’s bite always delivered.

  Flooded with her hot, pulsing life, he moaned deep in his throat. Crushing her body against his, he ground his hips to hers. Falling backward onto the bed, he rolled her to her back and moved on top, pinning one delicate wrist to the silk spread. Kneading her breast with his fingers, he tended the other with tongue and mouth, suckling, drinking, devastating.

  “Oh, goddess, Rev, no.”

  “You can’t tell me no when you were the one to start this.”

  She pulled at his hair, shoved his shoulder, but he did not relent. It wasn't really a fight. She was just going through the motions. Pulling him closer, she settled, slipping into the swoon, surrendering not peacefully, but feisty, as any faery would.

  And when he’d taken a long draft and his head swam with sparkling things of wild and mystic oddity, Rev pushed away and slid from the bed, his back banging against the mattress. He caught his head in his palms and swayed forward, following the swoon’s sinister tease and the high only faery ichor could promise.

  Returning. Descending.

  Swallowed once again by the addiction.

  Chapter Six

  Swimming in a sea of pleasure, submission and outright shock, Bree clung to the side of the bed. Eyelids fluttering, she could not see Rev, but she could hear him moaning—with pleasure.

  She touched her breast where he’d bitten her. It was sore, yet had already healed. He’d taken a lot of ichor. So good. So wrong. Her heart sank.

  “He couldn’t help himself. And I encouraged him." Hell, she'd seduced him when he'd been set on business. "What have I done?”

  She scrambled off the bed and stumbled against the glass block wall. Didn’t want to get too close to him. Wasn’t sure how to react. What to do? Rush over and hold him? Or push him out the door and lock it behind him?

  "This is all my fault. Why did I let this happen?"

  She'd been following her heart, not her better judgment. She'd wanted to bond with her Intended.

  Rev sat on the floor, head hung forward and legs stretched out. He worked his fingers through his hair and tossed his head back to rest on the bed. Dark eyes searching his surroundings, they landed her face. He smiled a drunken grin an
d a low guttural chuckle tainted the air.

  Bree’s heart dropped to her gut. She’d stupidly slaked her own greedy desires to seduce a former dust freak.

  “I’m so sorry.” She shut up. Apologizing? Like it was going to do any good now.

  Rev pulled himself up by the bed and, wobbling, sat the end of it. He smiled widely, like a junkie knowing his next fix stood two steps away. “Bree, Bree. Apologies are not necessary. God, I feel great. It's been a while. Come here.”

  She pressed her back against the cool glass. What had happened to her plan to have sex with him in hopes it would entice him with more than her ichor? She hadn’t a chance, that is what happened. The vampire had been too fast, too eager for the fix. So seductive. Or had that been she as the seducer? She’d wanted him as much as he had wanted her. Maybe even more.

  She should have never dallied with his unstable condition. Once an addict; always an addict.

  You risked a silly infatuation and now you've created a monster.

  It wasn't an infatuation, it had been a desire to claim her mate, risks be damned.

  “Do you want me to call a friend for you?” Stupid, Bree. Make him feel like a leper, will you? “I mean, someone to take you home? Rev, are you okay?”

  He moved swiftly, his body fitted to hers and pinned her against the wall. She felt every hard surface on Rev Parker. Great Herne, his body was a sculpted masterpiece and every movement flexed a different muscle against her slender frame. The dark gaze searing hers melted her silly worries. He was gorgeous. A man she desired. A man she'd wanted to lure into her bed.

  “You want to be rid of me so quickly?”

  “You bit me, Rev.”

  “I know.” He dipped his head to lick her breast, using a fang to drag down her dress.

  Bree tensed, but his hot tongue worked wicked pleasure through her body in irresistible waves. She stood on tiptoe to keep the connection. Difficult to push away what she wanted so desperately.

  “Didn’t mean to,” he muttered as he glided his tongue under her chin and along her neck. “But you taste like heaven, Bree. No one passes up a bite of heaven.”

  “Heaven is closed to you and I.”

  “Then the closest I’ll ever get is you. Let me have it again.”

  “No.” She pressed two fingers over his mouth as it moved to parallel hers. “You can’t do this, Rev. Don’t lie to me and tell me you’re not jonesing for more ichor.”

  “Jonesing?” He smirked. The man stretched back his shoulders as if to display his brawn, and she did not miss the pulse of his muscles. His confident chuckle echoed in her core. “Not even.”

  “But why not? That was—”

  “The best bite I’ve ever had. And I want another. You going to deny me?”

  He must not realize he was in the throes of the dust. A wicked enchantment wanted to pull him under again. Her wicked enchantment. Or maybe he did, and didn’t care. What junkie did care about anything but their next fix?

  Curse her for wanting to be his next fix, for wondering what another bite would feel like. Wicked good. Like an orgasm stretching inside her veins and endlessly shuddering from head to toe. Could a faery become addicted to the bite?

  Yes, she'd heard of those sidhe who sought vampires for the pleasure of their bite. They left dust freaks in their wake, and were shunned by their kind for working their cruel enchantments to fulfill a twisted desire. And that was exactly why vampires and faeries did not mix.

  “One more bite and I promise I’ll leave,” Rev cooed against her ear.

  His breath tickled her skin and pricked her nerve endings. His smile revealed a gorgeous white fang, sharp and promising exquisite pain.

  Want more.

  He slid up her skirt. His warm hand cupped her derriere and glided over the dimples at the base of her spine, testing their concave shape. “You’ve captured me again." He blinked and shook his head, and found a moment of clarity. “Christ, this shouldn’t be happening."

  Yes, he was finding reality. And she should, too.

  Another blink spread the sexy grin across his face and he cupped her chin firmly. "But if I’m going to fall, what better person than with the only woman I desire. I want you, Bree.”

  Fall? This man was no angel, and neither was she for allowing this to happen. Perhaps she could yet rescue him. Steer his desires toward safer territory. It wouldn't be easy, and would take all her strength, but if she could enchant him sexually it would overwhelm the dust coursing through his system.

  “Make love to me?” she wondered softly. “Yes, let’s make love. I have something better than ichor to offer you, Rev.”

  “Nothing better than dust, pretty, sparkly faery mine.” He nuzzled into her neck. The sharp slash of teeth made her shiver.

  She didn’t feel the intrusion of fang through flesh, only realized when he sucked at her skin and the ichor pulled within her.

  This was wrong.

  It felt too right. It had to be right. Why else would he be her Intended?

  Rev’s mouth seduced her body to melt against his hard ridges and firm muscles as if a flower softening against stone under the sun. She wanted to be under his touch, within his embrace, mastered by his hold upon her.

  This time the swoon attacked him first. The powerful vampire shuddered against her body, his erection hard and angry against her thigh. Yes, angry, for he was unwilling or unable to join with her, for the ichor high was greater. It overwhelmed all.

  Slapping his palms against the wall above her head, he groaned with pleasure, and tugged her into an embrace with one arm. Bree’s feet left the floor. He held her to him, rocking her, smothering her, bleeding her pores of dust and thriving on the high of it all.

  Don't let him fall. Save him.

  “No!” She kicked at him and managed a heel to his thigh.

  Dropping her, the vampire stumbled backward. A growl flashed ichor-dripping fangs.

  “Think clearly, Rev.” Bree ran to the door and opened it. A cool evening breeze gushed in, clearing her head. “Leave, please. I’d never forgive myself if—"

  “So it’s all about you, then?” He staggered forward, more a swagger, actually. Aggression tightened his jaw. Bree remembered him saying the dust brought out his Hyde as opposed to sinking him into oblivion. Would he hurt her? Trash her place? “The faery gives and the faery takes away.”

  He slapped his palms to the door frame, standing over her. The wood frame cracked, giving credence to her suspicion he’d take out his aggressions on her home.

  Until he leaned down and licked her aside the temple. Oh, sweet hot touch of her lover's tongue. Could she really make him leave? She didn't want to leave him alone when this was all her fault.

  Rev growled at her. “Fine. You want to play this game?”

  “No, Rev, I didn’t mean—"

  “Next time we meet, faery, you’d better have some information for me. Or it won’t go well for you.” He grabbed her wrist and before she could struggle, his fangs tore along her vein. Rev licked her oozing ichor and smiled behind the wicked act. “Love it when a woman pushes me away. Makes it a kick to push back. And this time no chains to keep me off you. Heh. See you later, Bree.”

  He jumped over the stairway landing, accomplishing the three-story drop with ease. Bree didn’t look. Didn’t want to watch him slip away. Because he wasn’t gone. She’d opened a connection tonight that shouldn’t have been unlocked.

  The vampire would return. To push, as he’d put it. And while she should be fearful, regretful, she teased the idea of meeting his push with as much shove as she could muster—and perhaps, a little pull.

  Chapter Seven

  Rev stalked the shadows tracing the alley behind the nightclub. Fists tight at his sides and jaw clenched he fought the shudders threatening to tremor through his body and steal his control.

  He was in control. Dust heightened his senses and made him stronger. He just had to keep this new strength. He would maintain…

  Lunging,
he punched the brick wall. The skin on his knuckles, already bloodied from previous punches, opened and bled, yet healed moments after. He growled with pain, but even more so from lack of dust. His insides were losing their grasp on her enchanting ichor. Everything was gradually becoming…less.

  He needed a fix.

  Slapping a palm against the wall he closed his eyes and pressed a cheek to the rough brick. “What have I done?”

  She’d trusted him.

  He had trusted her.

  Both had allowed it to happen last night.

  Now here he stood, trembling like a junkie, with an eye out for the first faery he could spy. Hell, it had happened so quickly. He couldn't have stopped it if he'd wanted to.

  She could have stopped him. Had she wanted this to happen to him? Why would she be so cruel?

  He could return to Bree’s flat. It was just down the street. Salvation loomed close. He growled and kicked at a curious alley cat.

  He would not go to the fickle faery who had trapped him in the addiction with but a curve of her gorgeous mouth and a bat of lash.

  He wanted, he needed, he devoured dust. He would have it. By any means. But a small part of him still recognized his respect and admiration for Bree. He couldn’t harm her. He’d promised.

  Because betraying Bree would betray his heart. Their connection was more than friends, more than a means to get his job done. She was a part of him for reasons he couldn't quite figure, and he valued that trusting sacrifice.

  A trio of women crossed the street at the end of the alley, giggling and chatting about their clothes. Two mortals and a cat-shifting familiar, to judge by her feline mien. No faeries out tonight. Damn it!

  Clamping his arms across his chest to fight the urge to again punch the brick, Rev beat the back of his skull against the wall. Teeth chattering, he exhaled and bent double. Need worked at his gut. He could remember that kind of visceral hunger, yet had never starved or gone hungry. It was but a shadow of the pain he felt now. Pain mixed with craving. And the craving promised bliss.

  He had to find more ichor.

  Stumbling forward, he broached the end of the alley. Red and blue neon bar signs flashed on the sidewalk. Cars cruised slowly by, looking for a hookup, dropping off partiers in clouds of laughter and hoots.