His wound had healed already. “More,” I said, letting go of his finger before I could gnaw it off.
He sat up to remove his shirt. “You can bite me anywhere.” His eyes were lit with a new fire. “You can’t hurt me.”
I touched the curve of his neck, where it met his shoulder. “Will you feel pain?”
“Just the right amount.” His mouth quirked. “You know I like it a little rough.”
I knew everything he liked. But as I ran my hand along the planes of his chest, I wanted to learn him all over again. “Let’s do this right. Let’s make love.”
He exhaled hard, desire mixed with tension. “Are you sure? You’ve been through a lot. Dying, becoming a vampire, almost getting fried by the sun.”
“Not to mention zombies.”
“I’m not sure we should put sex on top of all that.”
“I want to feel like me again.” I stroked his cheek with the back of my fingers. “Making love with you is normal.”
“It won’t feel normal. You’ve changed.”
I looked down at my body. “Everything works, right?”
He nodded. “But just like you’ve had to get used to your new skin and eyes and ears, you have to get used to your new muscles.”
The muscles that could totally ruin a human male’s day. “Will it hurt?”
“It might. Like when you lost your virginity.”
“I meant, will it hurt you?”
He gave a gentle laugh and brushed the hair out of my eyes. “You’re so sweet. No, it won’t hurt me. And you’ll be okay once you relax.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
Instead of answering, Shane kissed me deep and slow, until I was melted wax molded against him. Then he pulled away a few inches and looked into my eyes.
“I’ll beg if I have to,” I whispered. “I’m not proud.”
His expression eased into a smile. “Sorry. It’s just that I’ve almost lost you too many times not to get overwhelmed at the sight of your face.”
Now I was melted all the way through. “If you think my face is overwhelming…”
In ten seconds flat I was naked. In twenty seconds, I had him in the same state. We kissed and stroked and explored each other’s bodies as if for the first time, reconsecrating our connection.
Finally he eased me to lie on top of his smooth, hard chest. “Go as slow as you need,” he said. “We can stop anytime.”
Trying not to hold my breath, I opened myself and guided him inside.
He was right—it hurt. I felt sixteen again, wondering if I could go through with it, if pleasure awaited me on the other side of such gut-rippling pain.
But I wasn’t sixteen, I was twenty-six. I wasn’t with an awkward, self-absorbed boy. I had a man of infinite patience and understanding.
Shane kissed me with a tenderness that eased the ache inside. “We can try again later.”
“I don’t want to wait.” I eased my hips down, but the pain shot back up my gut, making me grit my teeth. “I don’t suppose you have a smaller penis we could use.”
“Sorry, the mini version’s been in the shop for about thirty years. I probably lost the receipt by now.”
I laughed, and my muscles loosened. Shane stroked my lower back, relaxing me further. His hands crept around behind my thighs, then he slipped a single exploring finger between my cheeks.
As in life, my new body responded instantly to that most intimate touch. I quivered as a sudden warmth flooded within, allowing him to move deeper inside me.
He let me control the pace, and I went slow, savoring the new sensations. The way his palms lit up the surface of my skin, the way his tongue scraped and rolled my nipples, the way his muscles coiled beneath my hands—it all helped ease the hot, hard pain and turn it into a building, blinding pleasure.
“I love you,” he murmured in a shaky breath as I came—with deep, quiet cries—wrapped in his arms. Then he pressed my face to his neck and said, “Do it now.”
I opened my mouth wide and gave in to instinct.
His body seized with the first bite, and his arms tightened around me. But no blood came.
“Harder,” he gasped. “My skin’s tougher than a human’s.”
“I don’t want to hit an artery.” The last thing we needed was blood on the ceiling.
“You can’t. Your fangs aren’t long enough.” He turned us over to put himself on top. Then he slid a hand behind my head and pulled my mouth to his neck. “Do it.”
I stabbed hard. The blood came, and I licked it eagerly before the wound could heal. His taste flooded my senses. I finally understood why this act was described with words like delicious, sexy, trippy. Sacred.
“Yes.” He pressed against my mouth as he thrust deep. “Do it again. Now.” He gave a long, shuddering groan as his orgasm pulsed within me. I could feel it stronger than ever and realized I was close to the edge again myself.
I bit him, so hard it jarred my jaw.
Oh. My. Gooooooood.
He tasted like liquid fireworks coated in spiced honey, like lightning basted in barbecue sauce, like heaven and hell suspended in maple syrup.
My moan mingled with his as white heat slammed through my body. The fire shot from my tongue, down my throat, all the way to my core and back again. I met his thrusts with new strength, every muscle flaring with the electricity that arced between us.
Shane clutched me close, filling me with himself, until I knew he’d never let me go. Until I knew that this Ciara—the cold, undead, less-perfect-than-ever Ciara—was the one he loved.
We came to a stop, letting our breath slow, without parting even an inch. My fangs had receded, but I kept my mouth against his skin, tasting his sweat and the last drops of blood. His own mouth was pressed to my hair.
Finally he turned his head and stared down at me, as if seeing me for the first time. “Now I know why you always said I was alive.”
“Why?”
“You’re alive, Ciara.” He ran his hand down my body, following the curves of my waist and hip. “You’re even sweating.”
“No different from the way you always were with me.”
“That’s what I mean.” He brushed his lips over my forehead. “With you, I’ve lived. Without you…”
“There is no without me. You’re stuck.”
If I survive, I added mentally. If I ever got over my hang-ups about drinking from humans. If one day it didn’t feel like whoring myself or turning off part of my soul.
But lying there with Shane’s arms around me, hearing his familiar quiet breath as he slid into sleep, I felt like I’d taken the first step. He’d shown me that it could be beautiful, something no one else could have done.
And even if I never felt that way with anyone else, even if every human’s blood turned my stomach and withered my soul, I would do whatever it took not to leave Shane and this world behind.
I would live.
29
Waiting in Vain
I woke at 5 p.m. with a mad need to pee, thanks to that bottle of water. I crawled across Shane, trying not to knee him in the groin in the process.
“Where you going?” Eyes slitted, he tried to tug me back into bed.
“Bathroom. Urgent.” I shoved against his chest. “Ack!” I tumbled onto the floor, knocking my head against the dresser.
He peered over the edge of the bed. “You’re still learning your strength.”
Grumbling, I picked myself up, slipped into my clothes, and headed for the bathroom.
While I was in there, I sensed someone in the common room. Let it be Monroe. I walked down the hall, making no effort to mask my sounds, my mind whispering please, please, please with each step.
In one of the overstuffed armchairs, Noah looked up from the book he was reading. I glanced at Monroe’s closed door.
“Still no,” Noah said.
I rubbed the aching spot on my chest. “What are you doing up so early?”
“I could not sleep.” He
took off his glasses and set them on the end table. “Regina kicks.”
“I bet she does.” I shuffled one foot behind the other, feeling awkward at the mention of his sort-of girlfriend, who had put her hands and mouth on me just a few hours ago. “What are you reading?”
He turned the book around so I could see the cover. “Camus’s La Peste,” I read aloud. The Plague. “Appropriate.”
“French makes me drowsy.” Noah opened the book to the place his finger was marking. “Sit. I will read to you.”
I padded over to the sofa and sat down, curling my feet underneath me. Noah picked up his glasses and began to clean them with the tail of his long red, green, and gold cotton shirt.
“I’ve always wondered—why do you wear glasses? Vampires’ eyes are perfect.”
“They remind me of being human.” He adjusted the dark frames on the bridge of his nose. “And they look good.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “They do. And at least you don’t have to fool with contact lenses and all that cleaning stuff.” I thought of Tina and her elaborate nightly ritual.
Huh. Wait a minute. Control Enforcement agents were supposed to have at least 20/50 uncorrected vision. How did she get assigned to that branch?
Family connections, of course, though they hadn’t helped her achieve her dream of the Immanence Corps.
Thinking of Tina reminded me to check on Lori. She and the rest of the civilian population had less than two hours of freedom before the indefinite quarantine took effect.
Using the common room’s landline, I dialed Lori’s cell. She answered right away. “Hey! How are you?”
“Getting better.” I heard traffic in the background. “Are you still fighting the crowds for bread and toilet paper?”
“No, we’re looking for Tina. I called her this morning to tell her about you, but there was no answer. Her mom hasn’t heard from her, and now with the curfew, today is our last chance to find her.”
I twisted the phone cord around my finger. My secret was out there, unsecured. After all we’d done to ensure Ken’s loyalty, my cover could still be blown.
“For my sake, you’d better track her down.”
“It’s not just that.” Lori’s voice tightened. “I think she raised the zombies.”
I almost dropped the phone. “Tina couldn’t raise a lump of pizza dough. She bragged about every talent she thought she had. If she could raise the dead, she would’ve taken out a full-page ad in the New York Times.”
Noah looked up from his book. “Who raised the dead?”
I couldn’t answer him, because Lori’s words were pouring into my ear. “You won’t believe what we just found in her apartment. Books and papers on how to call the spirits, and all this ritual equipment. Her mom recognized one of her own texts, one that’s forbidden to all but the top necromancers. Tina had stolen it from her.”
“She was wearing a bandage on her arm the night of your bachelorette party. It was hidden by her sleeve, but I saw it when she took her coat off.”
“It could have been from the blood ritual. Good eye, Ciara.”
I paced as far as the phone cord would let me. “Tina doesn’t live in Sherwood. How did you get past the National Guard to go to her apartment?”
“We got a Control escort. Tina’s mom is pretty high up in the agency, and she convinced them there was cause, since her necromancy texts were gone.”
I looked at the clock. Still daytime. I hadn’t realized Colonel Petrea’s wife was human. “What does Tina’s dad say about this?”
Lori hesitated. “He’s not with us.” Her voice sloped up at the end of the sentence, which told me she was nervous, maybe purposely cryptic.
“Is Mrs. Petrea there with you?”
“Yeah.”
“And that’s why you can’t talk about Colonel Petrea?”
“Pretty much,” she said in a forced casual tone.
“So when you say he’s not with you, you don’t mean just because he’s a vampire and can’t go out during the day.”
“Right.”
Why didn’t Petrea’s wife want him to know their daughter was missing? Didn’t she trust him? Or was she hiding something herself?
Lori continued. “You knew Tina in a different way than I did. Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”
I tried to think, but my brain was murky as usual. “Sorry. I’ll call you if I think of anything. Good luck.”
We hung up. I sat on the sofa and explained the situation to Noah. Then I asked him, “If you were on the run because you’d done something wrong, where would you go?”
“I would stay here.” He lifted his hands to encompass the station. “I trust no one more than these friends.”
“What if they couldn’t protect you?”
“I’d be worse on my own. Vampires need community.”
I hoped my chagrin didn’t show. Before I met this odd little family, I’d only trusted myself. In Tina’s situation, I would go far away from anyone I’d ever known.
But to get inside her head, I couldn’t think like a con artist. Tina wasn’t a vampire, but like most humans, she needed community. Her community, her coven, was the Control, and even they couldn’t help her now.
Who did that leave? Her parents. Maybe they were protecting her, either because she really had raised the dead—or because they had done it themselves. They were necromancers, after all. But then why would Mrs. Petrea tell Lori about the missing books?
“I’ll be right back,” I told Noah, then went into Shane’s room to fetch my research books on Romania. If I could understand the Petreas’ people better, maybe I could figure out how this all fit together. Or at least I’d fill the time until our next zombie-shoveling party.
I lounged on the couch with a fresh mug of, well, breakfast and turned to the last chapter I’d been reading before I died. Before Aaron died. Before the whole world fell apart.
Under the chapter title appeared this pithy quote from Bram Stoker’s Dracula:
“Every known superstition in the world is gathered into the horseshoe of the Carpathians, as if it were the centre of some sort of imaginative whirlpool…”
I let out a sigh. No wonder Petrea had hated my human self. I questioned everything, believed in nothing. My blood or my mind—my soul?—drained the potency of superstition, the very thing that had once made his class of people so powerful. In his mind, I was everything wrong with the modern world.
Further reading confirmed my suspicions—the Transylvanian and Moldavian noblemen had used the threat of vampires, ghouls, and other “fictional” creatures to keep the peasants in line. What was a little physical hardship, or a starving child, compared to the eternal damnation of the vampire’s clutches?
“This is interesting,” I told Noah. “A group of seventeenth century Carpathian noblemen claimed they had vampires in their thrall, that they could control their actions. So if you crossed these guys, they’d sic the vamps on you.” I flipped the page. “Of course, this book has to claim vampires aren’t real, or it would never get published.”
“Do you think they truly had vampires in their thrall?” Noah asked.
“They were probably bribing or blackmailing them. We can’t actually be controlled, right? Like those zombies?”
Noah took off his glasses and squinted at the ceiling. “There is a Haitian voodoo practice where a person is given a potion that make them seem dead. The witch doctor then brings them out of their grave. The zombies, if you want to call them that, have so much brain damage from the potion, they do anything their master says.”
“But vampires’ brains aren’t damaged when we die, right?”
“Such is my point. If the resurrection is proper, we are not even dead a minute. Humans have drowned for longer than that without destroying their minds.”
My chest grew cold. “I was dead longer than a minute. You said you thought you lost me.” I put a hand to my head. “My mind’s felt sticky off and on ever since. I thought it
was because I was sick, or because Monroe had left me.” I shot Noah a pleading look. “Do I have brain damage?”
He shrugged. “If you do, it will get better eventually. We can recover from almost anything.”
I stared at the page in front of me, checking for blurred vision or sudden lack of literacy. I could handle losing a limb, but not my mind. My wits had gotten me out of more jams than I could count. The loss of even half of them would be the End of the Ciara as We Know It.
I recalled how foggy I’d felt while the CAs were doing their cheerleading routine. Shit. What if the zombie spell had a hold on me? Was I half zombie?
The book’s spine snapped in my hand.
“Watch your strength,” Noah warned, “especially when you’re upset.” He turned back to his own book and continued reading aloud.
I couldn’t hear his words over the roar of panic in my head. I knew I should tell someone my theory, but revealing my weakness could land me in a laboratory, away from the people who’d nursed me back to life. The thought of leaving the station turned me cold and empty inside.
Plus, it was impossible, right? Elijah said the zombie spell worked through blood magic, and it wasn’t as if the necromancer had bled on my dead body or—
Wait. My thoughts lurched back to another problem, one that I might be able to solve.
I picked up the receiver and punched in Lori’s number. When she answered, I said, “I know where to look for Tina.”
30
Help Me
A grim-faced Elijah opened the door of his basement apartment and ushered me and Shane inside.
“Tina’s in the bedroom.” He joined me as I passed him. “How are you feeling, Griffin?”
“Fine,” I lied. “Which is more than I can say for Tina. At least I had friends who would save me.”
He held up his hands. “I don’t make vampires. Period. I told Tina that, and I offered to call an ambulance. It was daytime, so I couldn’t carry her to the hospital myself.”
“But if she was dying—”
“That’s the thing. She’s sick, but she ain’t dying. Check this out.” He led us down the hall to a closed door.
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