by Ким Харрисон
My eyes flew open when Kisten's weight shifted, and I slid into him. Our hair mingled, and with his lips brushing my ear he said, "No." His breath came and went on my shoulder, and I didn't move but for sending my fingers to play with his torn earlobe. "I like a woman who can take care of herself," he added. "Watching you got me all hot."
I couldn't help my smile, but it faded distressingly fast. "Kisten?" I said, feeling vulnerable despite having his arms around me. "Really, I'm scared. But not about the Weres."
Kisten's searching fingers stopped. Removing his encircling arm, he leaned back and took my hands in his. "What is it?" he said, concern heavy in his gaze.
Embarrassed, I looked at our twined fingers and saw the differences. "I had to use the threat of a demon to get them to back off." I lifted my gaze, seeing the worry etching his brow. "It makes me feel like a demon practitioner," I finished. "I'm an idiot for using a demon as a bluff. Or a coward, maybe."
"Love…" Kisten drew my head to rest against his chest. "You aren't a coward or a practitioner. It's a bluff, and a damned good one."
"But what if it isn't a bluff?" I said into his shirt, thinking of all the people I had tagged for practicing black magic. They hadn't intended to become the fanatical, crazed people I threw in the back of a cab and hauled off to the I.S. "Some guy talked to me today," I said, fiddling with the top button of his shirt. "He invited me to join their demon cult."
"Mmmm." His voice rumbled through me. "And what did my badass runner tell him?"
"That he could take his club and shove it." Kisten said nothing, and I added, "What if they call my bluff? If they hurt Ivy or Jenks…"
"Shhhh," he hushed, his hand gentle against my hair. "No one is going to hurt Ivy; she's a Tamwood vampire and Piscary's scion. And why would anyone hurt Jenks? "
"Because they know he's important to me." I lifted my head, taking a breath of the fresher air. "I might do it," I said, frightened. "If anyone hurts Jenks or his family, I might call Minias and trade in my mark."
"Minias." Kisten's surprise showed. "I thought you were supposed to keep their names secret."
There had been more than a hint of jealousy in it, and I felt the beginnings of a smile. "That's his casual name. He has red goat-slitted eyes, a funny purple hat, and a crazy girlfriend."
"Mmmm." Kisten pulled me closer and settled his arms around me. "Maybe I should call this guy. Take him bowling so we can compare crazy-girlfriend notes."
"Stop it," I chided him, but he had managed to shift my mood. "You're jealous."
"Hell yes, I'm jealous." He was silent for a moment, then leaned forward. "I want to give you your present early," he said, reaching around the arm of the couch and to the floor.
Twisting, I put my back against the arm of the couch more firmly. Kisten set the obviously store-wrapped package in my hands, and I beamed. The ribbon about it was imprinted with VALERIA'S CRYPT, an exclusive supplier of clothing where the less fabric there was, the bigger the dent it would make in your checking account.
"What is it?" I asked, giving the shirt-size box a shake, and something thunked.
"Open it and see," he said, his eyes flicking from me to the box.
There was something odd in his behavior. Sort of an embarrassed eagerness. Not one to save paper, I ripped it off and tossed it, running a fingernail under the single piece of tape holding the box shut. Black tissue paper rustled, and I warmed when I saw what was under it.
"Oh, this is nice!" I said, lifting the teddy up. "Just in time for summer nights."
"It's edible," Kisten said, his eyes glinting.
"Whoa!" I exclaimed, hefting its lightweight and wondering how we might explore this new option. Remembering the thing thunking around, I set the teddy aside. "What else is inhere?" I questioned, rummaging. My fingers found a small, fuzzy box, and when I recognized its shape, my face lost all expression. It was a ring box. Oh, my God. "Kisten?" I breathed, eyes wide.
"Open it," he prompted, scooting closer.
Hands trembling, I turned it to find the opening. I didn't know what to do. I loved Kist, but I wasn't ready to be engaged. Hell, I was hardly ready to be anyone's girlfriend. What with two Were packs after my hide, demons showing up whenever, a master vampire itching to have at me. Not to mention a roommate who wanted to be more and me not knowing what to do about it. And how could I embark on a permanent relationship when I wouldn't let him bite me?
"But, Kisten…" I stammered, pulse racing.
"Just open it," he urged impatiently.
Holding my breath, I wedged it open. I blinked. It wasn't a ring. It was a pair of…
"Caps?" I questioned. Relief spilled through me. I looked up to see his fluster. They weren't his caps. No, these were sharp and pointy. And they're for me?
"If you don't like them, I'll take them back," he said, his usual confidence gone. "I thought it might be fun sometime. If you wanted to…"
My eyes closed. It wasn't a ring. It was a toy. I should have known after the edible teddy. "You bought me caps? "
"Well, yes. What did you think they were?"
I went to tell him, then closed my mouth. Flushing, I set the box aside and looked at the caps in their velvet cushion. Okay, it wasn't a ring, but where was this leading? "Kisten, I can't let you bite me." Closing the lid with a snap, I extended them to him. "I can't accept these."
But Kisten was smiling. "Rachel," he coaxed. "That's not why I bought them."
"Why, then?" I said, thinking he had put me in a very awkward position. I couldn't help but wonder if this had been a reaction to Ivy's kiss.
Placing the box back in my hands, he curved my fingers around it. "This isn't a backward way to wiggle my teeth into your neck. I'm not even looking for you to bite me, though that would be…" He took a breath. "Nice."
I could tell it was the truth, and my agitation eased.
Kisten dropped his gaze. "I wanted to see you with little pointy teeth," he said softly. "It's bedroom play. Like wearing a teddy. Sort of like… window dressing."
"You don't like my teeth?" I said, unhappy. Damn it, I wasn't a vampire, and he wanted more. This sucked royally.
But Kisten pulled me to him with a rueful chuckle. "Rachel, I adore your teeth," he said, his silk shirt against my cheek. "They nibble and pinch, and that you can't easily break my skin drives me fu—" He caught the next word sensitive to my disaproval. "Crazy," he finished. "But with you wearing those caps and me knowing you could break my skin?" A sigh lifted through him. "I don't care if you bite me or not. It's the thought that you could that's exciting."
His hand against my hair was soothing, and the last of my confusion vanished. This I understood. I found a thrill in the same way. Knowing that Kisten could bite me but held back because of respect, will, and perhaps Ivy was enough to get my rush going full tilt. That someday his will might not be strong enough or he might be willing to stand down Ivy was the attraction.
"You… ah, want me to try them on?" I said.
His eyes were dilating. "If you want to."
Smiling, I shifted my body and opened the box again. "You just slip them on?"
He nodded. "They're coated with some miracle polymer. Put them on and clench your teeth, and they'll mold right to them. They'll come off with a little prying."
Cool. His eyes were on them, and I set the box on the table, the unfamiliar smoothness of bone under my fingers as I picked them up. Feeling like I was putting on contacts, I fumbled until I figured out which one went where and slipped the molded bone over my teeth. They felt odd as I gritted my teeth. Lips parted, I ran my tongue across the inside.
Kisten inhaled, and my attention went to him. "Damn, woman." The rim of blue about his pupils shrank. My smile widened, and, seeing it, his eyes flashed to black.
"What do they look like?" I said, jumping up.
"Where are you going?" he said, his voice holding a sudden urgency.
"I want to see what they look like." Laughing, I pulled away from him and heade
d for the bathroom down the hall. "Are you sure I won't cut my lip?" I asked when I found it. The overhead light flicked on, yellow and dim from the low voltage.
"You can't," Kisten said, his voice raised against the distance. "They're designed not to," he added from right behind me, and I jumped, smacking my elbow into the wall in the tight confines.
"God! I hate it when you do that!" I exclaimed.
"I want to see, too," he said, an arm curving around my waist and his head tucking into the hollow between my neck and shoulder.
His eyes weren't on my reflection. Trying to ignore the tingles his lips were creating, I looked in the mirror, my tongue feeling the backs of the caps. They had a delicate curve, and the backs were angular. I smiled and turned my head to get a good look, seeing how they fit into the concave space between my lower teeth. The memory of wearing wax fangs for Halloween when I was eight flitted through me and was gone.
"Stop flashing your teeth," Kisten growled.
I turned to face him, his hands tracing a delicious path about my waist. "Why?" I bumped into him suggestively. "Does it bother you?"
"No." His voice was terse, and his grip on me grew tight.
There wasn't much room in here, but when I tried to push him out, he stood firm. He was warm and solid, and I stayed where I was, putting my arms about his neck and using him to keep my balance. "Do you like them?" I whispered, inches from his ear.
"Yes."
His lips traced a path across my collarbone, and I shivered, feeling the stirrings of desire.
"Me, too," I said. Pulse hammering, I aggressively nuzzled his head away so he couldn't reach my neck, pulling myself up to run my new-teeth teasingly across an old scar.
Kisten shuddered against me. "Oh, God. This is going to kill me," he whispered, his breath warm against my shoulder.
My blood pounded as I felt the new power I had. Kisten had gone still under my teeth, submissive without being docile. His hands drifted down to trace my curves, tugging my shirt from my jeans as they came up again.
Fingertips roughened from work traced lightly over me, rising until they cupped my breast. His other hand was at the small of my back, pressing me into him. Breath quickening, I gently bit an old scar at the base of his neck, sensations rising almost too fast to appreciate.
I turned my attention to a tiny scar I knew was sensitive. I breathed in his scent, a relaxed tension filling me. I hadn't come here looking for this, but why not? A small voice in my head wondered if I was letting Kisten sway my thoughts so easily on the teeth issue to reaffirm that he and I had something real already—and that accepting Ivy's offer, the surprise of it aside, would be cheating on him. If so, I would be the only one it would bother. Vampires considered multiple bed and blood partners the norm and monogamy the exception. And though I wasn't a vampire, to accept polyamorous relationships without a lot of soul-searching, all I could think right now was this felt damn good.
I grazed my teeth the length of his neck, feeling his muscles tighten. Kisten's hands trembled, and I wondered why I was trying to figure this out right now. His sigh flashed adrenaline through me, and it was all I could do not to bear down and dent his skin. A wicked feeling was beginning to grow, and I relished it. I could bite him. I could sink my teeth. And I knew exactly what it would do to him. I wasn't a vamp to set his scars alight, but he was, and one vampire was all it took.
His hands moved against me under my chemise, and in the gap between us I sent one of my hands downward, wanting to undo just one button. Just one.
Fingers awkward from the tight fabric, I managed it. Unable to resist, I fumbled for his zipper. Kisten shifted his weight, pressing me into the narrow slice of wall. His blue eyes were lost in black, and he pinned my hands above my head.
"You assume a lot, witch," he growled, and a spike of desire shot through me.
"You want me to stop?" I said, leaning forward and forcing a kiss.
Oh, God. His lips pushed aggressively against mine, tasting of wine. The thought of my teeth so close to his lips was thrilling. I knew Kisten could feel my need to find all of him building, and he played upon it. But as long as he had my hands pinned over my head, he couldn't stop me from tasting what I could reach.
A small shift forward and my lips found his neck. Kisten exhaled slowly. Enjoying being able to pull such a response from him, I explored, finding new reactions from old scars.
I should have done this before, I thought, hooking one foot behind his leg and pulling him closer. As soon as I got home, I would have to see what Cormel's guide to dating vampires said about this.
My arms dropped to encircle Kisten's neck lightly as he let go of my hands, and a sliver of thrill hit when he moved us into the unlit hallway. My back went up against the thin paneling with a thump, and he slid my camisole strap down my shoulder, bending to kiss the newly exposed, flawless skin that I knew was irresistible to vampires. The smoothness of his capped teeth across my unmarked skin sent a tremor through me. If his phone rang, I was going to kill somebody.
My eyes slipped shut in pure enjoyment, and I worked by feel to undo the buttons of his shirt. Jazz played, and the sound of a boat echoed over the flat water. I couldn't get the last of the buttons—Kisten kept nipping at my skin to send jolts that didn't have the chance to ebb before he added to them. Giving up, I gripped his shirt and pulled until the buttons snapped.
Kisten mmm'ed in annoyance. He shifted his weight, pinning me. Eyes flashing open, I reached for his belt. "Give me what I want," I whispered, feeling my new teeth. "And I won't have to get rough, vamp boy."
"That's my line," he said, his voice carrying a new edge to it.
The words were laced with blood hunger, and fear lanced through me, quickly stifled. Kisten's hands hesitated for an instant, to regain control, and then he continued. His restraint far stronger than mine, he took my shoulders, holding me unmoving as he found the base of my neck, wanting my blood but not taking it as he worked my old scar.
"Oh, God," I breathed. Unable to stop, I hoisted myself up, wrapping my legs around his waist and tightening my grip on his neck. He shifted again, adjusting for my weight. I could feel him heavy through his slacks, and my pulse quickened. Sensing it, his touch became aggressive, and silver threads of anticipation tightened to a hard ball in the pit of my being. This wasn't good. It was too much. I wasn't thinking anymore. It was too damn good.
I clutched at him, wanting the rush of feeling of his teeth sink into me. If he knew how badly, he might ask, and I wouldn't be able to say no. Ivy will kill him.
As if sensing my confusion, his lips became gentle, tracing a cool-warm sensation from the base of my neck to rise slowly to behind my ear, where he stayed, pulling with a gentle pressure—hinting at more. "Can you stay through the morning?" he asked.
"Mmmm," I managed, making sure my willingness was obvious by sending my nails to trace the back of his neck.
"Good." Carrying me, he headed down the hall to the night-darkened bedroom. The lights from Cincinnati were a soft glow reflecting off the water, and I spared a thought that I wasn't going to have the chance to wear that teddy. At least not tonight. His bed was under the bank of windows, but he set me atop the dresser, my legs still wrapped around him.
I was at an excellent height that lent itself to all sorts of possibilities— and feeling surged when his hand sketched a heavy path to my breast, his thumb teasingly caressing. Kisten's lips left me, and with a deliberate slowness, he pulled back. The motions of his fingers against me stopped. Almost panting, I met his eyes.
They were black with a familiar, collected blood lust, glinting in the reflected light. Adrenaline zinged through me to mix anticipation and fear. Something was changing—I had become more with my sharp teeth. They weren't just bits of bone, they were a source of power, giving me control over him through the sensations I could invoke. And Kisten knew it; that had been his intention in giving them to me. With his teeth capped and mine sharp, he had elevated me above him. The thought
was a definite turn-on for both of us.
Eyes never leaving mine, he took my hand that had slipped between his open shirt and his back. He breathed deeply of my wrist, lids closing as he scented my blood. "You smell like my two favorite people all mixed up."
His words sent a tremor rippling through me. Ivy's scent coated me, a soft memory of what they once had. The two of them had banded together in their vulnerable youth to survive, and I knew he missed their past closeness. He ached with his need to find it again. His pain pulled on me, making me want to give him what he needed, soothing both his body and mind. I wasn't coming in second behind Ivy but first; I could give him something she couldn't—everything he had found with Ivy, but ignorant of what Piscary had put them both through. I knew that was why Ivy had left him. She couldn't live with the reminder.
The draw to submit and give him everything strengthened, and when he felt me lean into him, his grip tightened. Body meeting his suggestively, I pulled his scent deep into me. It swirled through my body, the pheromones flipping switches until I ached with need. My hands slipped to his back, feeling the tension there and wanting so badly to get lost in him. I exhaled, my breath shaking. "Do me here," I whispered.
Tilting his head, Kisten held my shoulders and kissed my lower neck, gently, hesitantly, as if he had never touched me before. I lost my breath at the rush of feeling, the burning tracings of desire settling deep and low. I exhaled into it, calling it to me. The pause to gather our breath was over. Oh, God. I have to do something.
Fingers fumbling, I reached for his slacks. The top button was undone, and I unzipped them, pushing them down enough to give him freedom. His hands were at my lower back, and I clasped my arms around his neck, lowering myself off the dresser so he could pull my jeans down. My feet touched the floor long enough to shake off first one pant leg, then the other.
Impatient, I tightened my grip around his neck, lifting myself back up against him until I was on the dresser again. His hands ran over my curves to my waist, then higher. A groan of anticipation slipped from me when he bowed his head. Massaging my breast with one hand and sending his lips over the other, he tugged and teased—the hint of teeth telling me what he could do if I let him, almost promising.
