by Michele Hauf
Why the hell did she care at all for the stupid vampire who thought he was a faery? It wasn’t as though they meant anything to each other beyond a means to get what they wanted, both in life and sexually. He was arrogant and cocky. He didn’t have a clue how to exist in the mortal realm. The guy stood alone, and he liked that. He didn’t need anyone.
Oh, but he did. Just as much as she needed someone. Anyone. One single soul she could relate to. And Vail, for good or for ill, was that soul.
Rushing into the bedroom, she crawled onto the bed, wary of the dust. A little skin contact shouldn’t hurt her. As far as she knew, a vampire had to imbibe ichor to get high.
She pressed the cool towel over Vail’s forehead and he moaned pleasurably. The skim of his iron rings tickled her thigh.
“You’re good to me, vampiress. Why?”
“Because you deserve good. Because I like you.”
“Not like this.” He pushed away the towel, but she persisted, and sopped it along his neck. “Feels good. Too good. I don’t deserve you.”
“Just close your eyes, lover. I’m going to take care of you.”
* * *
VAIL SLIPPED IN AND OUT of consciousness. His brain had been floating through a loopy dream since taking the faery ichor. But he’d regretted it the moment he’d seen Lyric standing in his bedroom doorway.
He should have resisted. For her. He could be different for her.
Hell, he must still be high. He didn’t do anything to please anyone.
Except, apparently, Cressida.
You did as she asked you. You succumbed to the addiction you’ve always had, much as you deny it. It is how she kept you all those years. It is how she will always keep you.
Close by, his vampire lover fretted, “I don’t understand why the dust doesn’t seem to go away.”
The cool towel annoyed him when Lyric pressed it against his neck, and across his shoulders and chest. He’d felt feverish after taking the ichor, yet now he shivered.
He’d taken too much. He wasn’t sure if the faery had survived. He’d left her… I didn’t kill her. I would never.
And yet, he didn’t know. He just didn’t know.
If only he’d come home earlier, when the faeries had been trashing his place. They would have beaten him, perhaps killed him. One less thing for Lyric to worry about.
“It sticks like nobody’s business,” Lyric complained softly. “How do I get this stuff off your skin?”
Keep it there. Don’t take away the one means to oblivion I have left.
She wants to help you. Let her.
Resisting what he wanted most took too much out of him. Vail groaned and shoved away the towel.
“Rain,” he muttered. Outside the patio window, rain battered the small iron deck hugging the penthouse. “Faery dust repels mortal tap water,” he murmured. “Rain…can drown a faery.”
Lyric slid off the bed and opened the patio door. A gush of raindrops whipped in on the wind, and the cool spatters tickled Vail’s face.
Did she think she could save him? Dredge him up from the mindless oblivion of the high? Hell, the high? He’d not been high on ichor since he’d first started drinking it. He must have taken a lot.
But he hadn’t killed. No. The faery had been smiling, waving to him as he’d stumbled out from the ichor den. He’d left her all the money he’d had in his pocket, which was probably a thousand euros. Much more than the den charged, but he sucked at math, and didn’t care about paper money.
A heavy, wet glob of towel landed on his stomach. “That’s cold!”
“I’m sorry,” Lyric said sternly. “But if you want to get clean, this is the way to do it.”
“Who said anything…” About getting clean?
She’d decided for him? Hell. Why hadn’t he forced her to give him the gown that first night? He’d be done with her now.
And all alone.
You don’t want to be alone. Alone sucks. Lyric makes life right.
He admired her courage, and yes, he did want to get clean. To purge the dust from his system.
And after that? He wasn’t sure. He’d take things as they came.
“You’re shivering.”
“You noticed?” he said sharply. “I need another fix. I’m coming down. Fuck!”
The towel washed over his hips, and now he realized he was naked.
“You took off my clothes? What are you up to, woman? I don’t want this. I don’t…”
But again, he couldn’t force himself to speak the lie.
Some achy part of his tattered soul did want this. He needed this. Lyric’s touch worked a balm to his pain. It was the first and only touch he could endure since leaving Faery.
“You’re right, the rain takes this stuff off your skin.” She returned to the patio, and he heard her wringing out the towel.
Tilting his head, Vail saw through blurry eyes the image of a beautiful vampiress, her thin pink dress damp with rain clinging to her skin. Red ruffles spilled below her curvy ass, which segued into long, gorgeous gams. He wanted to lick the rain from her skin—but only if it was shimmering with ichor.
Gripping the sheets, he growled and tore the sheet from the bed. Ichor dried to dust spilled over his face. He lapped at it like an animal.
“No!” Lyric grabbed the sheet and wrestled him for it. “You idiot vampire. I’m trying to help you!”
“Fuck you!”
She gaped at him, bewildered by his violence.
His heart pulsed. “I’m sorry, Lyric—no, I’m not!” He did not release his hold on the sheet. “I want another taste. I need it!”
She pulled so hard, he reneged and she won the sheet. Vail turned his back to her. He was hurting her. And she only wanted to save the wib vampire.
“You don’t know how to save me,” he muttered. “This is what I am. I—” He bent double, wincing at the pain clamping his stomach. It radiated through his muscles. Clawing at the dust sprinkled on the mattress, he pressed his fingers into his mouth.
“Just try it,” whispered from the sodden angel. “Give it a chance, Vail. If not for me, then for your own sanity.”
“Why? You think I will go mad like my crazy mother?”
“No, I didn’t mean that. Don’t you want to see clearly?”
She was an angel he didn’t deserve, but, oh, did he desire her. And not just for sex. He desired her admiration, and her trust. But most of all, he desired her respect.
Smashing his fist against the headboard averted some of the pain tracking his nerves. With a shout to curse all the sidhe in Faery, Vail surrendered to his lover’s selfless determination.
* * *
IT WAS WORKING.
Lyric had no idea about addicts and how they functioned, but she had seen a few television shows. Denying the addict the drug and helping them through withdrawal was the way to do it. And now that she had gotten Vail’s skin wiped clean of dust, he seemed to be in less pain. His tight abdominal muscles had relaxed, his chest now rising and falling as if in sleep. And he’d stopped insisting on more ichor.
The fact that no more dust emerged on the surface of his pores gave her hope. Had the vicious fever racking his body expelled all the dust within his veins?
Blinking and catching the heel of her palm against the headboard, she cautioned herself not to fall asleep. It couldn’t have been more than forty-eight hours. She only needed a few hours of sleep. But she couldn’t risk Vail waking and leaving to get more dust while she was catching a few Z’s.
If he wandered out now, it was likely the Unseelie would find him, and she was in no position to protect him, since they would take her, as well.
But sleep teased. Or rather, some kind of loopy bliss begged her to surrender. She couldn’t keep her lids from fluttering, yet the sensation humming across her skin was like tiny kisses, electrifying her nerves and sparking them erotically.
So what if Vail didn’t come clean? She could understand the desire for the high that ichor promised.
She’d never drunk it herself, no—but she could completely relate right now.
Funny. That seemed…not right.
“You need blood,” she whispered. “So hungry.”
She scanned the room. A pile of sheets mounded in the open doorway. The mattress was exposed, the green satin fabric glinting here and there. She leaned forward and wiped a finger through a smudge of dried ichor and held it before her to examine in the full moonlight that shimmered through the rain.
So pretty, and yet so addictive. Of course a vampire who had lived in Faery all his life could handle the stuff. He had known nothing else. Certainly wasn’t a replacement for fresh, hot blood.
It had no scent. It tickled her nose when she got some on the tip of it. Lyric sniffed and a shock of sensation heated the back of her throat and softened her resistance. Licking the dust from her finger, she settled across the end of the bed, allowing her limbs to loosen, and her mind followed.
* * *
HE WASN’T SURE how much time had passed. But the world felt different now. Lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, Vail noticed the hum of traffic outside the open patio door was louder than usual. Bird chirps were sharp and surprising. Clear.
The quilted mattress fabric abraded his skin, and he lifted his arm away from it. Studying the skin on his biceps, he brushed his fingers over it. No dust? Impossible.
And yet, something had changed. The air in the room did not suffocate as it had earlier. His breath sounded plainly, not muted by the fog of ichor. Had he come out of the high?
Impossible. And improbable. But he did feel…different.
He clutched the lily bracelet. One blossom remained. It meant nothing to him right now.
He sat, and his toe nudged a body. Long and lithe, she lay stretched across the end of the bed, the brown hair she hated so much spilling over her face. Green Snake slithered along her body and aimed for the floor. Her dress had dried wrinkled against her skin, yet it outlined the sexy sinuous form of her.
Lyric Santiago was some kind of dark angel. A rescuing angel. She must be exhausted after nursing him, and had fallen asleep. He owed her so much. He was…yes, he had to be—was he clean?
That was what was different. He didn’t feel Faery at all. Gone was the numbing hum of ichor that spoke to him on seductive whispers. The overwhelming knowledge that other sidhe occupied this realm had dissipated.
Gone? And he did not regret it.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “I love you for this. I guess you were right. You can’t get love until you give it. You gave it to me, Lyric. Now I want to give it back.”
He leaned forward and stroked her hair down to her waist. She felt feverish. “Lyric?”
She moaned and slid up a knee, curling her hands under her chin. “More,” she murmured.
“More?” He touched her hair. On the curled brown tips, it shimmered. She must have gotten dust into her system after all the contact with him. “No, not this. You can’t succumb, Lyric.”
He lifted her into his arms, and at first she lolled, but when he juggled her closer she snuggled against his chest.
Was it already too late? She could not have taken it by mouth, only through skin contact. Would that save her?
“Just a little taste?” she pleaded in a small voice that would have seduced him to his knees had she been clear and lying before him naked.
Hell, he was naked. No time to worry about that. Though maybe he should. The mattress was dusted with ichor, and the floor, too.
He rushed to the closet and pulled on a clean long-sleeved shirt and leather pants to protect his skin from absorbing the dust. He’d take Lyric into the living room, which was probably dusted with residue ichor from him, but it shouldn’t be as thick as it was in here.
Stripping the clothes from her body, he then eyed the wet towels heaped in the hallway. They sat in a thick ichor puddle.
From the bathroom he claimed a new towel then held it outside to collect the rain. Tossing it over Lyric’s shoulder, he lifted and carried her out to the living room sofa.
Kicking the couch, he managed to turn it upright and lay Lyric on it.
She squirmed and moved sensuously as he wiped the towel over her, getting all the places where she glittered, which was the exposed skin on her legs and arms and neck. There wasn’t much on her, so he counted that as good.
“Lover, give me some of that ichor-laced blood of yours.” She tickled her fingers into his hair.
“You helped me get clean,” he said. “There’s no ichor in my blood, sweetie. I’ve never felt better. Ever.”
“But I want some.” She pouted. “It’s so good. Makes me tingly. You like me tingly?”
“No, sweetie, not like this.”
How to counteract the ichor’s effects? Dust had sweated out of his body. He’d done this to her!
Her clothes glittered with the stuff. He shuffled her arms from the dress and then slid down her skirt, being careful not to brush the skin beneath with more dust.
She hooked a finger around his wrist, below the bracelet, and tugged. “Give me.”
She thought he had ichor in his veins? No, he innately knew it was all gone. And yet…
Vail stood and paced to the doorway, near a window. He could help her. Maybe. He had to know for sure.
Biting his wrist, he held it toward the window to study the blood. It was thick and oozed brightly.
“But no ichor,” he decided. Not a single glint. “It’s gone. She did it.”
“Vail!
He rushed to Lyric’s side, and eased a hand over her feverish forehead. “You want my blood?” He lifted his wrist to his mouth and touched it to his fangs. “I hope this works.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE FIRST DROP of Vail’s blood spilled across Lyric’s tongue like water to a parched wanderer. She didn’t understand how or why he was giving her his blood. The guy refused to accept the fact he was a vampire.
Another drop trickled across her tongue and burst at the back of her throat. Many followed. She pressed her lips to his skin and sucked in his dark glamour. It beamed a heady crimson heat through her system and battled against the loopy dust high.
His blood was not laced with dust, and she could taste it was missing. But what wasn’t missing was too good. She didn’t want dust—she wanted Vail. Inside her mouth. Streaming through her veins. Filling her.
As she sucked from him, he slipped behind her body and slid a hand around her ribs to cup her breast. He pulled her against him, and she held tight to his wrist.
He nuzzled into her hair and whispered, “Take it all, Lyric. It feels as if you are drawing out my soul. I want you to have it, to bond with me. This is incredible.”
The only way they could bond was if he, in turn, took her blood. She sensed that would never happen. The reason he made this offer was he must still be tracking remnants of the high. Because if he were clear, this would not be happening.
It probably wasn’t happening. This strange offering was a whacked hallucination brought on by the dust.
Vail moaned and pressed a kiss against her jaw, his fangs grazing her skin. The tease of his hard tooth against her skin pushed her over a sensual edge and Lyric cried out, as if in orgasm. The blood high—the swoon—rushed over her and she arched her body, lifting her chest and tilting her head back against Vail’s shoulder.
She grasped his leather pant leg, disappointed he was dressed, and dug in her nails. “You have to have sex with me right now. That was so good, but it can be better. I want you inside me, Vail.”
He stood and shuffled off his shirt. “You’ve my blood on your lips.”
She teased out her tongue to lick it off. “You taste better than anything I’ve ever had.”
“Really?” He unzipped and tugged down his pants, which revealed an erection that snapped up to slap his torso. “I want you,” he said, and then reluctance washed over his face. “I do and I don’t.”
He stood there, looking aside, his eyes tr
acking the floor.
“You don’t have to reciprocate,” she offered. “I know—”
“Everything I thought I knew, and wanted,” he said, meeting her eyes, “has changed. You brought me into the clear, Lyric. I…I do want us to bond.”
“But that means…”
“Yes.” A sexy smirk revealed his fangs, descended and ready for action. That meant he did want her. “But I still need some time. You got me clean. And now you’ve taken my blood. Everything is happening so quickly.”
She hooked a foot around behind his thigh and toppled him onto her body, wrapping her legs about his hips. “Come inside me, lover. With this.” She grasped his cock and guided him into her depths. “We’ll save the fangs for later.”
The thickness of him thrusting inside her brought her to the precipice of orgasm so quickly Lyric could but grasp the couch, while one hand clutched air.
He clung to her, his fingers closing over her breast and squeezing the nipple. His hips slapped hers as his rhythm increased. It happened as if the proverbial fireworks were going off in celebration. His muscles tensed and he growled roughly at her ear. Her body reacted of its own volition and answered the call of instinct.
Giddy with the high, Lyric sought more, and sank her fangs into Vail’s neck. He moaned, yet did not pull away as she sucked out the glamorous elixir. The vein pumped hot blood down her throat, feeding her his darkness and the magical wonder he tried to hide. She tasted it now—Vail complete.
Crying out with climax, he collapsed upon her, his lips brushing hers, breaths warming her cheek.
“Was it as awful as you expected it to be?” she asked.
“Never,” he said, huffing and hugging her tightly. “Too amazing when you bite me. Man, I never imagined it could be like that. Your teeth sinking into me when I came? There are no words.”
“Soon, you’ll allow me…?”
He nodded and stroked his neck to look at the blood smeared on his fingers. “Yes, but don’t push, Lyric, please.”
“I’ll give you all the time you need.” She stroked the hair from his face. “Your eyes are so clear. I think the dust is completely gone from your system.”
