by Michele Hauf
“Nope.” She waggled a naughty finger before him, and he wanted to suck it—but he’d abide by the no-touching rule, because this kind of torture was fun. “You can’t take love. You can only get it by giving it.”
Vail cracked a goofy sneer. “Are you in the market for love, sweetie?”
She leaned in so close her breath warmed his mouth. A flutter of her lashes dusted his cheek. Her tongue dashed out to wet her lip. “Nope.”
Fuck. He was hard. Vail unbuttoned the top button of his jeans and blatantly eased a hand over his erection.
“Got a problem?” She eyed his crotch, and slid a hand to the apex of her thighs.
“Nothing you can’t solve.”
“I said no touching. Which includes no sex,” she said in a singsong voice. Her fingers flirted with the shirt hem, and Vail could not take his eyes from it. “I meant it.”
“Very well, why don’t you take care of yourself? You know you want to rub that hot, moist pussy, Lyric. Don’t do it for me. You want something, you gotta take it for yourself. Give me a fantasy.”
“Fantasy? You know, I do have a fantasy about a bad boy.” She flicked out the tip of her tongue, and when he thought she’d lick his face, she tilted her head back and moaned.
“Yeah? Am I a bad boy?”
“You let a faery kill your girl. I’d say that makes you very bad.”
“You’re my girl?”
“You said as much earlier.”
“I did. You are my girl.” Nice. “So tell me about this bad boy you dream about.”
He spied her fingers slipping under the hem of the shirt. She would undo him.
On the other hand, he could undo himself nicely with this visual tease. Easing a hand inside his pants, he assumed a good grip on the main stick.
“He’s tall, dark and likes to brood. Bad boys always brood. I think it’s in their DNA.”
Shiny brown hair swished over her shoulder, still wet from the shower. Droplets of water pearled on her pale flesh, slowly trailing toward her breast. She dipped her head and eyed him, mouth partially open to expose the soft pink insides.
“His hair is black as sin and he’s got eyes like stained glass. But I never spend too much time looking into them because I’m distracted by his mouth.”
Her tongue flicked over her lips. “It’s all about his mouth.”
Vail sucked in his lower lip.
“Sometimes it smirks, a little curl on this side.” She licked the edge of her mouth. “His rare smile makes my body stretch out and push up for his attention.”
Vail felt a smile wriggle his lips, but he suppressed it. “He’s always smiling when he walks that walk. That sexy, hip-swaggering walk that channels a panther’s sure strides. He calls it his strut. Makes me wet to see him coming toward me. I want to match the rhythm of his hips…”
Vail squeezed his hardness, not wanting to come until she did, but he knew women were slower than men, and damn—now she lifted the shirt. Her hips rocked, pushing forward, seeking the rhythm of the bad boy’s gait. She still straddled him but, surprisingly, did not touch him.
He gritted his teeth and stopped stroking, squeezing at the base of his erection to prolong the intense force that shuddered for release.
“Take your shirt off,” he growled. “I need to see all of you.”
“That’s what he says to me.” The shirt hit the marble floor. Lyric cupped her breasts and thumbed the nipples. “And he leans forward and draws his hungry gaze over my body. I want him, but when I reach for him, he retreats.”
She flashed him a wicked grin. “And always that sexy smile. I don’t need his touch.” She moaned as she squeezed her nipple. “But I’m hungry for it. To feel his tongue on my skin, knowing he’ll tease me until I scream.”
Vail swallowed. “Mercy.”
“He likes to tease. He knows I want him more than he wants me. He can have any woman. Why me?”
“She’s all he wants,” Vail hastened out, hissing as an intense climax built in his groin. “Finish yourself,” he managed. “Please.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Ch’yeah, right. You need to, sweetie.” He hardened his jaw. “Don’t you?”
“Yes, I do.” She began to stroke herself, this time putting her hand over his shoulder to lean against the end of the bed. Her fast breaths hushed against his ear. “Soon,” she whispered. “You able to wait so we can do this together?”
“Anything,” he mumbled. “If I’m bad—fuck—you’re naughty. Oh, Lyric!”
He couldn’t wait. But remarkably, when he cried out and released, she did, as well. The vampiress nuzzled her face against his neck to muffle her cry. He felt the tiny prick of fang—she pulled back, grinning like a drunken pussycat, and tapped her descended fangs. “Not going to tap you, goth boy.”
She rolled onto her bottom, and teased her wet fingers up his rigid abdomen where his come had splashed. She waggled a finger at him, then licked it clean. “I like ’em bad.”
* * *
AFTER THEY’D SLEPT a few hours, they stood on the balcony overlooking the city. It was around two in the morning. It was weird she’d slept, but Lyric had been running on empty lately. She needed blood. And while tempted to sink her fangs into Vail’s neck after their incredible Jack ’n’ Jill session, she was still leery of the faery ichor she knew pulsed through his veins. Good thing the sex controlled the hunger pangs.
“So we’re going to FaeryTown?” she asked.
He’d avoided touching her since they’d risen, and her skin tingled for his touch. But if he could stand not to touch her, she could certainly hold out, as well.
“We’re already there,” he said, and splayed a hand to indicate the streets below. “Your brother lives at the edge of it. Clever place to hide. Of course, he does have the elevator of death to keep him safe.”
“Leo doesn’t take risks.”
“Apparently.”
“So how do you know it’s FaeryTown? It looks like the rest of Paris to me.”
He went into the bedroom and returned with the small violet glass jar. “They’re everywhere, if you know how to see them. You’re going to have to see the enemy coming in order to stay away from him.” He opened the jar and tilted it toward her. “You willing?”
She nodded and allowed him to trace under her eyes with the stuff using his little finger. It smelled sweet and wasn’t so much greasy as viscous, and immediately blended into her skin.
“So, if vampires go to FaeryTown looking for a high, how do they see the faeries without this ointment?”
“The sidhe who service the vampires don’t wear complete glamour. They want the customers to find them. It’s the sneaky, fully cloaked ones you need to be able to see.” He studied his handiwork.
“Do I look like a raccoon now?”
“It’s kind of sultry,” he said, and tossed the jar up and down in a hand. “Do I get to call you goth girl now?”
“Goth boy was Leo’s name for you. But I’ll refrain from using it, too.”
“Fair enough.” With a nod over his shoulder, he said, “Take a look.”
She peered down the street, sighting humans walking briskly in the light rain that drizzled onto the cobbled streets and sidewalks, passing in and out of a supermarket with flashing red neon vodka signs.
From behind her, Vail’s hands caressed her hips and he pressed his groin against her ass. It didn’t take long for him to get hard, and she encouraged his arousal by grinding her backside against him.
So much for not touching. She wouldn’t mention the broken pact if he wouldn’t.
“Do they look like the faeries in the Lizard Lounge? What am I looking for?” she asked.
His deep whisper tickled her ear. “You’ll know it when you see it.”
She had slipped into the thin faery dress and now his hands moved around to caress her breasts. Lyric closed her eyes and moaned at the exquisite pain when he squeezed. The man knew how to summon the naughty side of
her. Why she’d ever asked him not to was beyond her.
When she opened her eyes the man three buildings down flickered in and out of focus as he walked the street. It reminded her of how they did ghosts in movies, cutting out a few frames to give them a staccato like movement.
“I think I see one.”
Vail crushed his body along hers and, clasping his arms under her breasts, peered over her shoulder, but he was looking in the direction opposite to where she had pointed. “Yep, that’s a sidhe. No wings. Must be under his clothes.”
“How do you know? You don’t have the stuff under your eyes.”
“Looking out the corner of my eye, like I showed you to do earlier. Remember that, if you ever find yourself without the stuff.”
He unscrewed the jar cap and put some under each of his eyes, then leaned onto the railing.
“Is he looking for us?” Lyric asked.
“Could be. Could be looking for trouble. See the other? The female?”
While Vail’s hands massaged her breasts, Lyric sucked in her lower lip and scanned the street farther up. A woman in a pink dress flipped her long white hair over red and brown wings that hung heavily in the rain. Her image flickered and rain spattered off the luminous wings.
“I can’t believe it. Are they always everywhere like this?”
“Yep. But more so in FaeryTown.”
“It’s so curious how they flicker.”
“This realm tends to slow the sidhe’s usual movement so they flicker, but it’s virtually imperceptible on those faeries who have been here a long time. They adjust after a few months, and that makes them more difficult to see because they blend so well with the mortals.”
“I’m not sure I like this.”
His ministrations at her nipples stopped.
“No, I mean the sight. Keep doing that, lover.”
“Are you okay with this now? I thought we were slowing down? Not touching?”
“That was a stupid idea. I’m always okay with the two of us making love. But wait.” She turned and looked him up and down. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just checking, you know, for wings.”
“I’m completely vampire, sweetie. Love me or leave me.”
“So now you admit to being a part of my race?”
“I’ve never denied it.”
“True. But you know when you put vampires down for being filthy you’re also putting yourself down? You should never do that. You should be proud of what you are, Vail. I’m proud of you.”
“Ch’yeah, right. How does that work? I’ve done nothing worthy of your admiration.”
“You’ve saved my ass more than a few times.”
He slid a palm over the backside in question. “It is far too nice to let get harmed. Which reminds me… We need to take a look around FaeryTown. Maybe we can find someone to remove your mark.”
“You really do want to protect me.”
“I made a vow. And I meant it.”
“Then let’s do it. But before we go…” She bit her lower lip because his hand stroking her ass felt too good. “Why don’t you, um…do that thing you do?”
“With my fingers?” He flicked his fingers before her in demonstration.
She clasped his wrist and lowered his hand to her loins. “Yeah, that thing.”
“All right, but you have to look at me.” He moved in to kiss her, and as his lips connected with hers, his fingers parted her legs and slid inside her.
His intrusion made her soft and melty, opening her to his dark glamour. Lyric closed her eyes and tilted back her head to moan.
“Eyes on me, Lyric. Right here.”
Sucking in her lower lip, she held his gaze, which was sexily defiant. His blue irises were hot with desire, and his stare felt more intimate than what his fingers were doing. He played her well, stroking softly and then more sure.
“Oh, yes.” Her fangs lowered and Lyric grinned widely, showing her bright incisors to her lover. “You know exactly how to do that thing you do.”
“You ready to come?”
She nodded, and he caught her jaw with a palm, forcing her to maintain eye contact with him. The bad boy’s smirk revealed his wicked pleasure. Lyric pressed her mons hard against his wrist and fingers, taking from him what she wanted.
And he gave it to her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LOOKING AROUND FAERYTOWN, Lyric was fascinated by what she saw. Everything was normal according to mortal standards, and the mortals she did see walked through the streets unaware of what existed around them, beneath their feet and above their heads.
Yet with the ointment around her eyes, she saw the fourth dimension that existed simultaneously.
Faeries were everywhere. They walked the same streets as if the mortals did not exist. Occasionally a faery would walk right next to a mortal, its wings brushing their shoulder, and the mortal would flick their fingers as if at a nuisance fly.
The buildings were mortal buildings, but the faeries could enter them on the level of their own realm. It was like parallel realms stacked one over the other. And since this neighborhood was not a popular spot with the mortals, the faeries had taken over.
They passed more than a few bars flashing luminescent signs with wings and a huge V in them. Vail explained the symbol vampires recognized for ichor dens—wings embracing a down-pointed triangle. It wasn’t V for Vampire, he explained, but rather the triangle represented a fang.
“Do you go in those?” she asked, clasping his hand at her hip. His palm felt too warm. Did the ichor house lure him with its offerings, increase his hunger?
“Once in a while. I rarely take from a live faery. Usually from the vial.”
“What does that mean? A live faery? Is that like me drinking from a live mortal? Because you know we get no sustenance from blood without a heartbeat.”
“Doesn’t work that way with ichor. Some vamps prefer their ichor direct from the vein. Some buy a few vials and take it home to enjoy the high in private. Others will buy a faery to take home with them, draining them dry.”
“To death?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t elaborate, and Lyric didn’t need him to. The practice was barbaric. Vampires did not need to kill for sustenance.
“But where does the ichor in vials come from?”
Vail tugged up her hand to kiss the knuckles. No answer to that one either. And she knew, without doubt, live faeries were drained to fill the vials.
His habit was awful. But was it any worse than those vampires who insisted the kill was the only way to survive? Lyric had never, and would never, kill. She didn’t need that much mortal blood to satisfy her hunger. And the kill would bring on the danse macabre, a state in which the vampire relived the victim’s nightmares—while awake. Often, if the vampire had killed multitude times, the danse macabre ultimately drove him mad.
They passed an ichor house with a stout, indigo-skinned faery guarding the door. He nodded as they approached, and said, “Vaillant.”
Vail nodded in acknowledgment but walked by.
He’d been in FaeryTown often enough that he was recognized? That shouldn’t surprise her, but after discussing drinking methods that eventually killed faeries, Lyric felt her throat go dry.
“I shouldn’t have brought you along,” he said. He slid a possessive hand about her hip. His claiming her settled some of her apprehension. “But it’s my truth.”
She liked that he was willing to show her his truth. Maybe someday he’d step beyond what he’d been taught, and begin to explore life and develop his own tastes. She’d help him if he ever indicated an interest.
“You don’t feel compelled to go inside and feed the habit?”
“Lyric, I told you—”
“I know, you do it to maintain. But if we’re talking truths here, do you want to stick with that excuse?”
He pulled her to him as he leaned against a wall beneath a neon sign advertising La Fée Plaisir. The bustle on the street
moved around them, coving them into the hazy blue glow of the neon.
“I may be the sorriest excuse for a vampire you’ve ever met,” he said, whispering into her ear. “But it’s all I know.”
She kissed him. He let her take as she pleased, not reacting, and she liked the moment. A press of their mouths, an exhalation of breath, a sigh shivering across her lips.
“Learn differently,” she challenged. Another kiss to his nose and his cheek. “For me.”
His smile was completely lacking in mirth.
She’d pushed too far. The man was not the kind a woman could tame or change or shape into something to suit her designs. That would be cruel to even attempt. Vail was unique, and despite his addiction, she did not want to change him.
But could she reach the untouchable core he guarded so fiercely? They had a connection, but it yet felt too thin, not nearly substantial enough to forge a long and trusting bond.
“I misspoke. I do need you along. Ahead,” he said. “See that symbol in the window with the blade and herbs? It’s a healer’s house. Let’s see what we can find.”
It was a narrow building, seemingly squished between two surrounding buildings, as if an afterthought; couldn’t be more than twelve feet wide. Cozy and intriguing. Violet waves of smoke swirled through the air as Lyric followed Vail through the black-painted halls of the healer’s house.
Head bowed and eyes closed, Vail stood outside an open door, seeming to take a moment of peace or thanks. Lyric wanted to blow away the smoke that trailed about his head, but then she yawned.
“Is this some kind of sleeping stuff?” she murmured.
“Smells like poppy flame,” he said.
“Opium?”
“Could be. She’s inside. We can enter. I feel her invitation.”
Lyric had always avoided accompanying Charish’s monthly visits to the witch seer, much as her mother had insisted she could craft a love spell for her. She just didn’t believe in hocus-pocus.
Vail had felt the invite? Things had just gotten spooky.
Lyric followed as he stepped into the room, which resembled some kind of gypsy tent, hung with colorful silks that upon closer inspection looked like spider webbing. An ivory incense burner trickled out the mysterious violet smoke and Lyric positioned herself on the side of Vail opposite the cloying haze.
