It was difficult to breathe. Michael, shaking, with his mouth pressed to her ear, whispered her name. In his voice: respect, admiration, relief, and exhaustion. Contentment.
And more—so much more that Keeli did not dare name.
“Yeah,” she breathed, her voice floating, curling. “I feel the same.”
Chapter Fourteen
He wanted to drown himself in her salty sweet scent, the soft creamy warmth of her pink skin, drown himself in sleep, dream away his life, free of nightmare and pain and sorrow. He pressed his lips to her neck, tasting her hot pulse, licking the sweet spot of her throat.
“You going to bite me?” Keeli asked drowsily. There was no rancor in her voice, no fear or recrimination. Just a question. Simple. Michael ran the tips of his fangs over her skin. She shivered.
He pulled away, suddenly uneasy. Keeli opened her eyes, looking him full in the face. Her eyes were strong, clear, blue as crystal sky. She touched his face, fingers tracing the tattoo in his cheek. “What’s wrong?”
He began to shake his head, but stopped. “I haven’t taken blood from a person for a long time. It feels … wrong to me. Dangerous.”
She studied him, with her fingers still dancing, whirling lovely patterns. “Why?”
“Why?” It was difficult talking to her like this; it was more intimate than he could have imagined, as though his soul were laid open, his pain and insecurity tangible enough to taste. He did not pull away, though. He controlled his terror of her deep-seeing eyes, and said, “Because there was a time when I took too much, when I was not … myself. People died.”
Her eyes did not change. “Are you sorry?”
“Yes,” he breathed. Sorry was inadequate. Sorry would never be enough.
She said nothing, and Michael waited, locked tight within her gaze, desperate for some answer, even more desperate for silence. Better that, than hearing words that would kill.
In the end, Keeli gave him silence, but it was not what he expected. She wrapped her arms and legs around his body, drawing him into a tight, soul-reaching hug that did not ease in potency or strength, even after long minutes passed into the quiet rhythm of their beating hearts.
“Who would have thought?” she finally whispered. She brushed her fingers through his hair.
“Thought what?” he murmured, savoring her gentle touch. In all his life, all the centuries left dull and dead behind him, he had never felt so comfortable, so at ease. So at home.
“This,” she said. “All of this. I never imagined.”
Michael wrapped his arms around her body and turned them. Books scattered, pressed hard into his side. He ran one hand up her thigh, caressing the crease of her backside. Keeli smiled, snuggling closer. His hand trailed into her bunched-up skirt, which rode up her waist, bumping her breasts.
“You do like it fast,” he said.
“I like it slow too,” she said.
He laughed, and she kissed him. “I like that even better,” she breathed against his lips. “Do it again.”
He laughed, low, and it was easy. Easy, because it was Keeli in his arms, that smile on her pink mouth. He slid out of her body, and she looked down between them. She stilled, her smile fading.
“You didn’t use a condom.”
Michael blinked. Did he even carry them? “I—no. I forgot.”
“So did I.”
“I’m not sick,” he said.
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
They stared at each other.
“It’s not possible. It can’t be,” Michael said.
“Yeah, but how often has it been tested? Can you say for certain?”
“No.” Michael propped himself up on his elbow. “It just seems outside the realm of possibility. A child who is both vampire and werewolf?”
“A child is a child,” Keeli said thoughtfully. “But yes. That would be … different.”
“Some might call it an abomination.”
Keeli gave him a sharp look and he shook his head. “Not me.”
“Good,” she said, fierce.
He wanted to ask her why she cared—why the possibility of such a child would make her so protective—but he said nothing. In a way, he felt the same—or at least, he thought he did. But it was so far outside the realm of possibility, as to be a dream. An odd one, at that.
Someone knocked on Keeli’s door; hard raps that echoed like dull iron chimes.
Michael stared at Keeli, frozen.
“Keeli!” A woman’s voice. “Please, are you in there?”
“Shit.” Keeli scrambled out of Michael’s arms. She hiked down her skirt and grabbed her T-shirt off the floor. Michael pulled up his pants. His shirt was still on. His body suddenly hurt from all the places his weapons had jabbed him.
“Who is it?” he asked, as Keeli ran fingers through her hair.
“Emily. How do I look?”
“Like you’ve had sex.”
Keeli grinned, which made him feel better. He still wasn’t sure she would make it another day without regrets.
Appreciate the little moments, he told himself. Make them last.
Michael stood behind Keeli as she answered the door, and it was good he’d had centuries to practice hiding his emotions, because the woman who appeared before him stirred every instinct, every ounce of sympathetic agony.
Emily wore a pink hat with a wide sweeping brim. It did not hide her ravaged face. A full mask would still have revealed tragedy; the energy sweeping off the young woman was all sweet pain, desperate desire.
The left side was the worst: a gutted cheek, a scarred nose thick with ridged flesh that arced high into her torn brow. No hair spilled out from beneath her hat. Her left ear was gone. A delicate golden earring spun from her right ear.
A vampire did this to her. A vampire who went unpunished.
“Keeli,” Emily said, breathless. She looked up at Michael and her green eyes grew large, dewy. Beautiful eyes, almost lovely enough to make a person forget her monstrous face. Michael watched fear enter her gaze, the first mark of panic, and he did not know what to do—how to calm a woman who had been so ruined by his own kind. He did not blame her for being frightened of him, and finally—finally—Jas’s unreasoning hatred made sense. The entire clan’s prejudice made sense.
Keeli grabbed Michael’s hand. Emily watched, blanching.
“He’s safe,” Keeli said. “Please don’t be afraid. He won’t hurt you. I promise.”
“They lie,” Emily whispered, beginning to shake. “Please don’t touch him, Keeli.”
Michael carefully disengaged himself. He took a step back, deeper into the room. “I would never hurt Keeli,” he promised, trying desperately to be gentle. “I would never hurt you, or anyone else in this clan.”
Emily took a deep, shuddering, breath. “You’re the first vampire I’ve seen since …” She touched her face. “You frighten me. I’m sorry, but you do.”
“I understand.” Michael looked at Keeli. “Perhaps I should leave while the two of you talk.”
He could see the apology in her eyes as she nodded. Emily had been hurt too badly for him to expect her to embrace his presence with any degree of calmness. He slid past Keeli out the door, pretending he did not notice the corridor-wide berth Emily gave him. She dashed into Keeli’s room as soon as he was a good distance away. Michael met Keeli’s gaze. Her smile was rueful, gentle. Michael wondered if it would always be so, if they would always be separated by the fear of others.
He watched her shut the door.
Emily perched on the edge of Keeli’s bed, rubbing her arms. Convulsive, mindless. Keeli wrapped a blanket around her friend’s shoulders and sat beside her—surveyed the mess, just as Emily was doing. She wondered if her friend would come to the right conclusion.
“I’m sorry,” Emily said. “I’m so sorry, Keeli. I acted like an idiot.”
“You were afraid,” Keeli said gently. “You had a right to be.”
“No, I didn’t. You
vouched for him. I trust you. It’s just … he was the first. The first I’ve been close to, and I just couldn’t think straight.” Emily began to rock. Keeli placed an arm around her slender shoulders and drew her close. “All those memories,” Emily whispered. “I can’t ever get away from them. Not looking like this, anyway.”
Not looking like this. Not with her face a constant reminder. Jas and Emily had no mirrors in their home, but it was enough that Emily could see her disfigurement in the faces of every person she passed. She knew what she looked like. The only miracle was that she had not managed to push Jas away. Keeli knew Emily had tried—that at first she believed he deserved someone less broken, someone who wouldn’t turn his stomach—but Jas, with careful patience and love, had convinced her that he didn’t care about her appearance, that he still adored her with the same passion he had felt the first time he laid eyes on her. Keeli wanted to cry every time she thought of it.
I’ll never be able to hate Jas. Even if I don’t agree with him, I know why he’s doing this. And maybe … maybe I would do the same if I were in his position.
Maybe. Probably. Keeli and Emily were friends, but still, she had only been hurt in a peripheral way by Emily’s attack. Nor had her judgment of vampires ever turned to hate. It had been frustration, anger, and an awareness of the atrocities they were capable of.
She still felt the frustration and anger, the wary distrust, but Michael—Michael, somehow, by some slip of a miracle, had managed to make her see the bigger picture with nothing but his example: that vampires and werewolves were not so different, and that to dehumanize one would be the same as dehumanizing herself.
But would she ever be able to convince anyone else of that?
“Jas told me about the baby,” Keeli said. “I’m so happy for you, Emily.”
That made the woman smile, and for a moment, Keeli glimpsed her friend’s old beauty, ethereal and golden. “It’s wonderful, Keeli. I can feel her inside me, growing. And Jas … Jas is so excited. He keeps asking me if we should start buying clothes and toys. He’s going to redecorate the guest room soon.”
Emily touched her stomach. Keeli could not see any sign of her pregnancy, but she imagined a tiny life turning warm in the womb.
“About Michael,” she began.
Emily glanced up, quick. She said, “I can think more clearly when he’s not around.” She smiled, wry. “I used to believe I was so tough. So brave. Funny how that can change. But if you trust him, Keeli, I’ll do my best to feel the same. I’ll try.”
Keeli’s eyes felt hot. Prickly. “Thanks, Em.”
Emily shrugged. “Everyone is talking about him and you. They want to know what’s going on, what got into you.”
“It’s complicated. Do you … do you hate me for it? For the investigation, for bringing him down here?”
Some of the old tartness touched Emily’s lips. “Do you think I would be here if I hated you?”
Keeli flushed. “I just thought … You know. …”
“I think you’re smart, Keeli. I think you know what the vampires are capable of. I think you know what you’re doing.” Emily touched Keeli’s hand. “I also think you’re insane.” She glanced around the room, at the scattered books. Her gaze fell upon the black bra lying twisted on the ground. “Very insane.” Emily hesitated. “You know I don’t like the idea of this alliance. It scares me, opening ourselves to vampires. I don’t trust them.”
“I don’t trust them, either,” Keeli confessed. “I trust Michael, but that’s it. He says that once the vampires sign the treaty, they’ll abide by it, but he doesn’t speak for everyone.” She frowned, thinking. “Though I suppose if anyone breaks the truce, they’ll answer to him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He punishes vampires who breaks their laws. He executes them.”
Emily blinked, taken aback. “He kills his own kind?”
“Yes.” Keeli frowned, thinking of the way he lived, the scratches the female vampire had left on his face. “It hasn’t made him very popular.”
“I can’t imagine it has. I didn’t know vampires did that. Murdered their own kind.” There was an odd light in her eyes; speculation, perhaps. Hunger, maybe.
“He doesn’t enjoy it,” Keeli said carefully, watching her friend.
“Of course,” Emily agreed, distracted. “Oh, I can see why you find him attractive.”
“Excuse me?”
“He’s better than the others. He’s not like them.”
Which was true, to some extent, though Keeli sensed that Emily had another meaning, and it bothered her. Made her uneasy.
“I’m not with him because he kills his own kind,” she said.
Emily did not seem to hear. She stood up, rubbing her arms. The room was not cold; Keeli sensed the shivers were from excitement. Her eyes were bright. “I came here because of the challenge. I didn’t know Jas was making a bid for Alpha, Keeli. I really didn’t. But I was there when you fought those wolves today. I saw, and I know … I know … Jas can’t beat you. He can’t. And I just wanted … wanted to ask you to please, please …”
“I don’t want to fight him,” Keeli said.
“I know, I know. Maybe now you won’t have to. Jas is doing this for me, because I’m afraid of the vampires. But it’s really only one who scares me. Just the one.” She raised a hand to her face; her fingers trembled. “If Michael could … get rid of him … maybe I could convince Jas to lay off the bid. Maybe I could convince him to support the alliance.”
Keeli stood up. “Do you realize what you’re saying? You want Michael to kill someone.”
Emily’s eyes hardened; her mouth twisted. Just that, and her face—which seemed so unchangeable in its wounded agony—shifted into something truly monstrous. Ugly. “I want justice, Keeli. I want him nailed to the floor with his head in my lap, so I can do the same thing to his face that he did to mine.” She pulled off her hat. Keeli barely kept from flinching. It had been a long time since she’d seen up close Emily’s scalp. Or rather, what was left of it.
“Yes,” Emily hissed, her raw pink head bobbing like a slick beach ball, or the torso of a skinned whale. “Yes, you understand. You have to. Do you know what it’s like to be scalped alive, Keeli? Can you imagine?”
“No,” Keeli breathed. “I can’t.”
“Then don’t judge me. I want this. I want to stop jumping at shadows, wondering when that freak fang will come and finish the job. He told me he would, Keeli. He whispered it my ear. Called it the foreplay of his class act event. And I believed him. I still do.”
“Emily,” Keeli said, stricken.
The door opened. Nerves strung tight, Keeli crouched instinctively into an attack. Emily gasped.
Michael did not intend to seek out Jas, but he heard the werewolf’s voice shouting orders, and curiosity dragged him down the corridor. He had the DNA kits; it might be a good time to press for Jas’s cooperation in at least one small thing.
The werewolf was not hard to find. He stood in the middle of exposed piping, heavy corrugated steel piled around his legs. Men worked near him; the air smelled damp. New waterlines, it seemed.
“Hello,” Michael said, over the dull clang of pounding steel. “I need to talk to you.”
“You and everyone else.” He raked the vampire with a cool gaze. “Where’s your fang-bang?”
Michael’s mouth twisted. “You will speak about Keeli with respect.”
“Or what?” Jas sneered. “Are you going to be her hero?”
“If I have to,” Michael said quietly. “If she’ll let me.”
Jas looked away. He watched the other werewolves hammer and weld pipes into the wall. Michael noticed soft plugs stuck into their ears. Good. The sound hurt.
“What do you need?” asked Jas.
Michael showed him the kit. Jas shook his head.
“Shit. You pulling the Man down on me?”
“Keeli doesn’t think you did it. I trust her. But I need the sample to prov
e it to the police.”
“Who else is on your list?”
“Whom do you think? I’ve been told there aren’t many people in this clan with the strength and motivation to kill a vampire.”
“Yeah.” For a moment, Michael thought Jas looked tired. “I can only think of a couple.”
“Estella,” Michael said.
“I guess Jonathon, too. Considering our history and all.”
Michael held up the test kit. “Let’s make this easy.”
Jas snorted. “Easy. Shit.” He took the kit, but grabbed Michael’s wrist with his other hand. He whispered, “I don’t trust you. I’m just doing this so I don’t make waves with the Grand Dame. I’m a good little wolf.”
“Sure you are,” said Michael easily. “That’s why you’re planning on murdering her and fighting Keeli.”
Jas sucked in his breath. “You don’t understand our ways. You never will. You’re a vampire.”
“Your wife is human,” Michael said, “but she could have been a vampire. What would you have done then, Jas? What would you have done if her attacker turned her? Would you hate her, just because she drinks blood? Would you hate her, even if it were the same woman in a different skin? You tell me, Jas. How much do you love your wife, and would it matter to you if she weren’t human anymore?”
Jas shoved Michael away from him. “Don’t you dare talk to me about Emily. You have no right.”
“Pushed a button, didn’t I?” Michael raised an eyebrow. “Think about it, Jas. Think hard. I’m sure Emily will.”
Jas straightened; his fists curled hard and tight against his thighs. “What do you mean by that?”
“Emily and Keeli are together. Talking. It’s why I’m here, to give your wife space.”
Construction had stopped. Jas snarled at the men, some of whom had pulled out their earplugs. “Get back to work!”
A Taste of Crimson Page 18
