by Juliet Lyons
From the corner of my eye, I spot a woman in a business suit and trainers rolling her eyes in our direction as she strolls past, and I experience a weird lightning bolt moment where I realize that would have been me not so long ago.
I guess Laura and the rest of the world are right—it really does happen when you least expect it.
“Oh yes,” I say. “The top-notch acoustics. I forgot about those.”
He leans even closer, his masculine scent pulling me under faster than a riptide. “Maybe we should skip the outing and go back to that bed of yours. Maybe it’s time I stopped going easy on you.”
I experience several very un–Grace Kelly–like thoughts as our lips connect, my thumbs rubbing circles into his stubbly jaw as he pulls me tighter against him. Although we’ve had sex pretty much every day since the incident, it’s been more of the intimate lovemaking kind than the wild, take me now variety. Though I appreciate Vincent’s thoughtfulness over my injuries, I have to say, I am dying to get things back to how they were before Moreau showed up and ruined everything. Particularly the biting.
“I would love it if you stopped going easy on me. I’ve been asking for months,” I point out.
“Begging too, at times,” he says, brow arched.
I narrow my eyes. “There was no begging. Now, shall we go inside before someone tells us to get a room?”
He takes a step backward and a sudden breeze lifts a lock of golden hair from his forehead. I stare, agog for a few seconds, which happens quite often—I still can’t believe he’s mine.
“What?” he asks. “Did you forget your keys again?”
“No. Just thinking, that’s all.”
I take his arm and let him lead me up red-carpeted steps into an impressive, white marble lobby.
“It’s a bit of a climb to the box. Shall I carry you?” he asks, his eyes filled with concern.
“I’m fine, Vincent. I can handle some stairs.” As I loop my arm through his, I imagine how he might act if I were pregnant. From what I’ve seen these past months, he would almost certainly be the type to wrap a woman in cotton wool and chat to her stomach. A black chasm opens at the pit of my tummy. The more I fall for him, the more it seems to happen. I’m hoping after I’ve told him tonight about what I’m going to do, these dark feelings will disappear.
Vincent is as good as his word. The box is empty, four red velvet chairs with gilt backs sitting neatly in a row. I look over the balcony into a sea of red and gold below. A low hum of chatter surrounds us as people mill around, looking for their seats, a whisper of excitement on the air.
“It’s really beautiful,” I say, craning my neck to see the carved dome of the ceiling, soft lights flickering like fireflies around the edges. “Like being in a fairy tale.”
Vincent glows with happiness, his blue eyes warmer than a tropical sea. “I’m pleased you like it. Even if the performance is going to remind you of cats being strangled.”
I chuckle as he pulls out a seat for me. “I was only kidding. I’m sure I’ll enjoy every second. It’s not like I’ll be able to concentrate anyway, not with you here being all you.”
He slips into the seat beside me, closing his fingers around mine. Our eyes lock.
“Mila,” he says, his voice hoarse.
“Yes?” I’m so breathless the word sticks to the back of my throat.
“I love you.”
Not for one millisecond do I hesitate. “I love you too.”
Before there is a chance for either of us to kill the moment, the lights dim and a drumroll echoes off the walls. The heavy red curtain begins to rise.
Vincent inches his chair closer to mine. When shrill singing voices begin to cut through the air, he leans in, lips brushing tantalizingly against my hair and ear as he whispers the meaning behind each song. It is through this seductive narrative that I discover a newfound love and respect for opera. Several times during the performance, I accidentally on purpose turn my head toward him so our lips meet, his sweet tongue sliding over mine and driving me wild with desire. At the end of the first half, when the lights go up, we stare at each other for a few seconds.
“Did you really say you love me?” I ask him.
“Yes. I did. I do. Did you really say you love me too?”
I smile. “Yes.”
A palpable wave of arousal prickles the air around us.
He extends a hand as he rises from the seat. “I’m sure we can buy the DVD, if you want to skip the second half.”
I sigh in relief before snatching his hand. “Let’s go.”
Like a pair of naughty coconspirators, we hurry back down the stairs and out of the building. In the car, we collide like magnets—hands and lips all over the place. When we eventually break apart, a thin sheen of mist clings to the windows.
“We need to get home,” he says, his hand reaching above my shoulder for the seat belt. “Now that I no longer work for the police, I’m not so sure a public act of indecency would be easy to wipe from the system.”
I reluctantly allow him to the start the engine. “Good thing there’s no law against indecency in my flat. I’m ready for a lot of indecency, by the way. I’m talking torrid acts of sexual gratification in places never designed to accommodate the heat of naked skin.”
He groans, pulling out onto the street, blue eyes hooded with lust. “Mila, put the dirty talk on hold or I’ll crash the car.”
Though Vincent’s apartment is luxurious, I’m happy to be back at my flat in Finsbury Park. Thanks to kindhearted Tom and Laura, all traces of the break-in and dead rat were gone when I finally returned home. With Lee Davies still down on his luck and living at Vincent’s place, Vincent was more than happy to move in until I recovered. Which, technically, I did several weeks ago. But he hasn’t mentioned going anywhere.
We crash into the flat and dive at each other. Before I know it, my dress is lying in a silvery puddle around my ankles and Vincent’s shirt is nowhere to be seen, his muscles standing out against the golden glow from the window.
I drag fingers over the ridges of his tight abs, watching as he shivers, his eyes half-closed as I undo his fly and slide a hand into his trousers.
He emits a low moan before capturing my mouth in his, working on the clasp of my bra and rubbing a callused thumb in circles around my hard nipples. By the time he lifts me up and wraps my legs around his hips, my panties are soaked through.
“Oh God,” he moans, carrying me through to the bedroom. “Did I ever mention your arousal is the sweetest scent I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing?”
“Uh-huh,” I mumble, ghosting kisses along his jaw.
He lowers me onto the bed, blond tresses falling in my face as he kisses me. With nimble fingers, he reaches down and pushes aside my lacy strip of underwear. I cry out as he parts the folds of slick flesh, arching into his touch. My back could be broken now and all I would know is ecstasy as he toys with me, liquefying my whole body until I’m little more than a hot spring waiting to erupt.
“Take your trousers off,” I pant, fumbling over the zipper. In a blur of movement, he’s off the bed and tossing them aside, his smooth erection springing out between us. I stroke him hungrily as he hovers above me, palms flat on either side of my shoulders.
“Bite me,” I say, his thick length brushing my groin. “Do it right as you enter.”
He leans down to kiss me, palming my breasts until I’m writhing beneath him.
“I’ve been wanting to show you for a while now,” he murmurs, skimming my jaw with his lips.
“Show me what?” I whisper, closing my eyes with a shiver as he positions his slick, velvety stiffness at my entrance.
He doesn’t answer, and a second later, I forget he’s even spoken as he pushes inside me, his pulsing length sliding in, swelling against my wet walls.
I climax right away, whimpering as hot
waves roll over me. When I eventually come back into my body, I open my eyes to find Vincent gazing intently into my face.
It’s like staring up at the sun.
“When you do that, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs.
I smile lazily. “Shut up and make it happen again.”
He grins, punishing me with a hard thrust. I spread my legs wide, inviting him deeper, cradling his face in my hands.
Before I have to ask, he bends to my throat, coiling my hair in one hand and gently tipping my head to expose my neck. The thrusts come harder, another orgasm building as I clench with anticipation, waiting for the bittersweet torture of his bite.
Lips brush my collarbone, fangs sharp against my skin. I moan as he presses a chain of kisses into my throat before sliding in his fangs.
“Yes,” I gasp, as hot sparks of pleasure and pain hit. Then I’m tumbling down into darkness, my mind no longer my own.
I find myself not at the edge of a field of corn, but beneath a navy-blue sky, my arms wrapped around the waist of a young blond woman who is leaning against me, her hazel eyes round with fear. I’m struck by an urge to protect her and by a sudden, startling attraction that sends heat roaring through my ice-cold veins like fire. The scene shifts and I’m outside a classroom in a corridor that smells of damp books. The blond woman emerges through the door, and my heart soars as she approaches me. I am flooded with hope and fear in equal measure, all of my nerve endings firing—as if waking up after a long sleep. The corridor fades and I am holding her in my arms, my mouth fastened to hers. I am peaceful. Filled with love. I know I would do anything to make her happy.
It’s only as my eyelids flutter open that I realize the woman was me. That I was the only one in his life essence.
I stare into Vincent’s eyes, seeing all the love I just felt reflected back at me—deep and bottomless, like the ocean.
“That was—” I start.
“You,” he says, smiling.
“But how did you know it changed?”
He kisses me quickly on the lips. “I told you once before—I know what’s in my heart. I know you thought Adrienne was there because I still loved her, but really, she was there because I hadn’t let go of what happened. I was hanging on to the past. Catching up with Moreau changed all of that. Though it would have changed anyway—because there’s no one more important to me than you, Mila.”
I pinch him hard on the arm.
“What was that for?” he asks, bemused.
“Just checking that you’re real.”
“Oh, I’m real,” he says with a smirk, taking my hand and placing it on his hard member. “Very real. And I’m not finished with you yet.”
I smile. Now would be a perfect time to tell him what I’ve decided, but all rational thought checks out as his lips seek me out, his length sliding into my warmth and obliterating all thoughts of what I was about to say.
* * *
The next morning over breakfast at my mismatched table and chairs, I decide now is as good a time as any to make my proposition.
Vincent sits opposite, poring over a broadsheet. Since quitting work, he always reads a newspaper at breakfast. He says it helps him stay in touch with what’s happening in the world.
The serial killer’s capture was never mentioned in the press. Vincent and Lee Davies are convinced that somewhere high up the media chain, a vampire—or at least a sympathizer—is making sure the killings never go global. The families of the victims were keen to keep their privacy too, so there is little chance of them selling their stories. To this day, my mother still has no idea what happened to me. Which, if I get my way, is how it’s going to stay. I’m going to need to keep her in the pro-vampire camp, the way my life is going. For more reasons than one.
“Vincent,” I say slowly.
His eyes flick up from the paper. “You want me to drive you out to that shopping place again, don’t you?” he asks, quirking a smile.
“What? No. Why do you say that?”
He points at his face with an index finger. “You have that kitten eye thing going on.”
“You mean puppy dog eyes, not kittens.”
“On you, they’re kitten eyes. Trust me.”
“It’s not about shopping.” Though now he’s mentioned it, I do need to return a dress. “I wanted to bring it up last night, but then we got busy with all the stuff.”
Vincent’s lips twitch. “Oh yes. All that stuff.”
I stare into my empty mug. If I look at him, I’ll get all flustered and then it’s a slippery slope to Sexville. “The thing is—”
“We’re moving too fast for you, aren’t we?”
I flick my eyes up in surprise. “What? Are you kidding?”
“I’m sorry for burdening you with my feelings last night, Mila. I’ve come close so many times to saying it, but I’ve always stopped myself, or someone else has stopped me. I know it’s only been a few months—”
I stand up quickly, the chair scraping back over the linoleum with a loud squeak, and press an index finger firmly to his lips. “No. It’s not that. Last night was one of the best nights of my life. And by the way, all the other best nights of my life also involve you. This isn’t too fast for me. That’s the thing. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and it’s clear if we keep heading in the direction we’re going, we’ll need to address our problem sooner or later. Where we’re concerned, I think sooner is much better than later.”
He frowns, clearly having no idea what I’m talking about. Before I chicken out, I take a deep breath and say, “I’m going to ask Ronin McDermott to turn me.”
For a moment, I wonder if time has frozen. His jaw drops, his face turning the color of parchment. The only sounds are the cars roaring along the street outside the window and the drone of a double-decker bus as it hurtles past.
“No,” he says, the word coming out in a strangled choke. “Absolutely not.”
I sink back into the seat. “Why not? You’re going to live forever, Vincent, and I’m going to age and die. I don’t want that for either of us.”
“I don’t want this life for you, Mila. I would never forgive myself.”
“But Ronin was going to change Adrienne for you. What’s so different?”
He shakes his head vigorously. “I was an idiot back then. I had no clue what I was getting myself into. You have no idea how many times over the years I’ve wished I’d died on the guillotine with the rest of them.”
I lean forward to cover his hand with mine. “I’m not saying we should do it tomorrow, or even next year. I’m just putting it out there as a solution.”
Vincent gazes down to where our hands join. “What if I told you there’s another solution?”
I frown as a memory surfaces. Right before Moreau captured me that night at Scotland Yard, I was talking on the phone. I know because Lee Davies told me, though I still have no recollection of it—concussion does that to a person, apparently. My last memory is of speaking with Lee about getting his wife back.
Until now.
I hear Karolina’s husky Eastern European tones. Lucky for you to meet a vampire witch.
“What other solution?” I murmur, wondering if I dreamed it.
He sighs, placing his free hand over mine on the table. “When you had to stay overnight in hospital, I went back to the apartment to pack some of your things.”
I nod. “You brought my toothbrush and night things and clean clothes.”
“I found a card on the bed. You must have dropped it there at some point that day. It was Karolina’s—the one who claims to be a psychic witch.”
A hint of excitement creeps into his voice that makes me wonder where he’s going with this.
“It got me thinking about vampires and their powers. I know of a vampire who was a healer in his human life. Nothing mor
e extraordinary than those we have today, but after he turned, the power was tenfold. He could heal cuts, mend broken bones…”
“What happened to him?”
“That’s the other thing. He’s human now.”
I screw my face up. “How?”
“He is the only person I know of who managed to destroy an ancient—his ancient. When she was destroyed, humanity returned to all her subjugates.”
“Are you saying you’re going to try to kill Ronin?” I ask, shocked.
He shakes his head. “No. Even if I knew how to do that, I wouldn’t. He saved your life that night. I owe him more now than I ever have.”
“Phew, because I don’t think I can handle any more assassin trips. Besides, I did sort of like the guy.” Vincent grimaces and I lean over to ruffle his golden hair. “Aw, don’t worry. You’re way prettier.”
We both chuckle.
“So,” he continues, “I got curious. Like I mentioned once before, if she was a genuine witch when she was human, those powers could be significant as a vampire. I called her.”
My stomach twists. “Was I speaking to her right before Moreau came for me?”
“Yes. She spoke to you that night. I didn’t want to remind you of it.”
“What did she say? About her powers?”
A flush I haven’t seen for a while rises in his cheeks. I recall the night we met, his shyness in the backseat of the police car.
“I explained our situation, about how besotted I am and how I hoped you felt the same.”
I roll my eyes. “Duh.”
He grins. “She thinks she might be able to help. Word of what happened to Logan—the vampire who turned human—has spread. Being London-based, Karolina heard about it too. When the ancient died, her venom died with her. If there was another way to kill that venom, it makes sense that humanity could be restored.”
“But how? Voodoo?”
“Not exactly. There’s a spell she’s working on. It involves a sort of exorcism. Ancients are more demon than human, after all. If she could rid a body of all that was demon inside it, their humanity could return.”
I scrunch my face up. “What if it’s dangerous? I won’t let you be her guinea pig. What if it kills you?”
