by Michele Hauf
And you deserve no one?
He tilted back his head and closed his eyes. The dark roil in his being had not let up. It commanded he take action. He fisted his fingers. Kill Constantine. He’d not forgotten, nor would he ever. It was what he most desired.
And yet. He wanted something more now.
All of her. Her kisses, her body and her blood. Inside him, outside, all over him. A part of him. He’d never wanted anything more than Lyric Santiago. He would sacrifice it all, die for her, even.
A hot burn clutched him from the inside, pulsing the ache throughout his system. And then he knew he could wait no longer.
“I want her blood.”
* * *
LYRIC LAY on the thick gymnasium mats in the east wing of the mansion staring up at the streams of red fabric suspended at the ceiling from carbon swivel hooks. The three-story room was quiet and she’d turned on one light, which spotlighted the silks. She’d changed into soft yoga pants and a formfitting shirt and had washed away the tears that had fallen unbidden once alone in the bathroom.
Now she closed her eyes and a tear trickled down her cheek and landed on the mat. She mourned her mother’s passing, and was calm with it.
Charish had lived over a century. She’d done the best she could with the knowledge and habitat she’d chosen for herself. Lyric loved her, and knew Charish had loved her in return. She would always remember her bubbly laughter, her inability to walk by a spider without shrieking and her joy for shopping in cosmopolitan cities.
Saying goodbye was easier than she expected, perhaps only because Lyric was now frightened for her future. It should feel easy now, she mutinously thought. But her heart told her that her world had been flipped. Everything Charish had begun while alive would require reckoning.
Like her mother’s deal with the Unseelie lord.
Spreading her arms out across the mats, she breathed deeply. Don’t think, she reminded herself. It was how she moved beyond tough situations. This room was meant for serenity. When working with the silks she could only feel peace.
She toed an end of dangling red fabric. Years ago, when Leo had been training, Lyric had become fascinated with the aerial silks used in the course of his training. While Leo had mastered the skill to utilize during break-ins to steal, she found the acrobatics calmed her, returned her to the innocence of her childhood, when summer camps and stolen kisses in the forest had ruled.
Grasping the strong yet giving fabric, she pulled her body up and, hand over hand, worked her way upward until she was suspended twenty feet above the landing mats. A swing thrust her body toward the other hanging silks, and she grasped another.
Hooking an ankle in the fabric with a deft twist, she dropped her handhold and hung upside down, gliding an arm along the silks to grip. Closing her eyes, and spreading out her arms to bring out the fabric like butterfly wings, she surrendered to the graceful art with pleasure.
Much like surrendering to the faery dust had felt.
“Never again,” she murmured. She would never put herself in a situation where she might imbibe dust. And she intended to be there for Vail should he decide the same.
* * *
VAIL WANDERED THE DARK HALLS in the Santiago mansion. It was a real castle, with musty stone walls and old tapestries on the floor and the walls. The furniture was dark, heavy, and reeked of ancient times. He had no idea how far back the Santiago lineage went. He sensed Charish had touched every part of this home, and it wasn’t a good sensation, but not repulsive either. Just different.
He didn’t want to impose on Lyric’s privacy, because he’d meant it when he’d told her he would wait as she took as long as she needed. Much as he should be looking for Zett—who was now a murderer.
And Constantine.
And find the gown to save his uncle’s ass.
But he could no longer deny the aching hunger. He’d felt the pain in his home just before the rock had smashed the window. It had returned as a hollow ache below his breastbone. Now that he was clean of ichor, he needed blood.
Cherry jasmine perfume led him down the hall. It tickled his veins, teasing his yearnings into desires. Saliva wet his mouth. A hot pulse burned around the ache. Everything he touched, every chair rail, wall or slip of fabric heightened his senses and opened him up to receive.
So this was the blood hunger?
What he’d once feared, he now craved.
Was it merely a replacement for his previous addiction? Vampires could become addicted to blood.
No, he mustn’t rush ahead of himself. He hadn’t tasted blood yet.
“But soon.”
You will step down to join the ranks of filth? Vampires are lesser than you.
No, he couldn’t subscribe to Cressida’s beliefs now. He wasn’t a faery and he didn’t belong in Faery. He’d never belonged there. It was time to claim his heritage from the person he trusted most.
He traced the stone wall with his fingers and strolled through the darkness. He sensed her presence as he took the stone stairs and knew she was in the room ahead with the door cracked open. Dim light crept along the door frame and veiled the stone floor.
Stopping outside the door, he put his back against the wall and wondered if he dared intrude. He should not. She’d been through too much the past few days. He owed her this time alone.
They were both alone now, without family. No, he could no longer cling to that tired excuse. He had family—he simply needed to embrace it. He would do so, with Lyric in his arms.
A swish of fabric tickled his curiosity, and Vail could not resist peeking inside the room. It was a gymnasium fashioned after something only the Addams family could appreciate, with dark stone walls, a dusty buttressed ceiling and low lighting.
An incredible sight stilled his breath.
A beautiful vampiress performed a ballet in the air, suspended by rich, red fabric strips. Must be the aerial silks she had mentioned to him. Her hobby, a means to relax.
Captivated, he carefully pushed open the door and walked inside. Low light lit only the center of the mat-carpeted room where Lyric worked out. The slide of her hair along the red silks whispered to his cravings, but he resisted in favor of the visual satisfaction. Graceful muscles pulsed and elongated, strong limbs belied her delicate beauty.
“You’re staring, vampire.”
“So I am.” He splayed out his hands. “I didn’t mean to intrude. You looked so beautiful. I’ll leave.”
“No.” She slid down one strip of fabric, stopping about six feet from the mat. “Join me.”
“Ch’yeah—no.” Vail thumbed his jaw and shook his head. “Sweetie, you were literally flying. You looked more graceful than any faery I’ve seen in flight. There’s no way I could—”
“Quit grumbling, and give it a go. It’s just strength and knowing when to grip and when to trust yourself.”
Sounded complicated, and off the chart for his skill level.
“I shouldn’t infringe on your—”
“Mourning? I’ve had a good cry, said blessings for my mother’s passing. I need to connect right now, Vail. Please—” an ache rasped her voice “—don’t leave me alone.”
No, he couldn’t walk away from her. Not from the heady scent of life that tormented his wanting soul. But more so, he wanted to hold the hand she held out, and never let go.
Vail took off his boots and mounted the foot-thick blue vinyl mats, finding a new balance to navigate the cushy surface. Lyric dangled a silk over his head and he pulled it down to inspect. It was flexible and stretchy and he didn’t believe it could support his weight. His lover was a bird compared to his bulk.
“Take your shirt off or the buttons will get caught on the silks.”
He did so, tossing it over by his boots, and doubting his sanity as he complied with her request. “You want me to strip naked?”
Her laughter felt good. “Maybe. But let’s try a few easy moves first.” She performed a move that worked her gracefully up the fabric,
supporting most of her weight by twisting the fabric about one foot. Lyric called down. “Just pull yourself up. If you catch me, you can have me.”
With a teasing challenge like that, Vail bit hard on the bait. He had climbed ropes and vines a lot when he was younger. Faery was a literal jungle gym for the adventurous youngster who’d always dreamed of having wings. More than a few faeries had teased him and called him a monkey when he was little. It was better than the longtooth epithet.
He impressed himself as he climbed hand over hand, using his feet to guide. Not so difficult when he relied on the strength of his arms. Could he have done this while mired in the hazy fog of his addiction? Probably, but he wouldn’t have had the determination to win the prize like he did now.
When he was about five feet off the ground, Lyric slid down, upside down, to meet him face-to-face. “Wrap the silk around your ankle and foot to hold position.”
He did so, and looked to her for further instruction. His muscles were taut and stretched, and he liked the feeling. But even more, he liked the position of her hanging before him, her hair tied back and dangling in a ponytail.
She hung by one ankle that held a sure grip on the silk. With her free hand she slid her fingers through his hair. And then she kissed him upside down. Vail pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. Her lips were salted with what he knew had been tears. Taking away her pain fed the ache that haunted him. His ankle became unloosened from the silk, and he slid down—he caught himself with a clutch of fabric.
Lyric giggled. “My kisses make you lose your cool?”
“Give me a break. This is my first time.”
“And you’re doing well.”
He found a position next to her again and this time divided his concentration between holding on to the fabric and kissing her. “This rocks, kissing like this.”
One of her hands strayed down his chest and flicked across the fly of his pants.
“You think so?” he asked.
“I need you, Vail.”
He blinked, understanding. His grip on the silk was tight and not at all sure. “I warn you, this could end disastrously.”
“Trust me,” she said, and she lashed her tongue up his bare abdomen. “Trust yourself, Vail.”
* * *
WHEN WITH VAIL, the world slipped away and a blissful peace overtook her. It wasn’t wrong, in the wake of her mother’s death, to want to connect, to feel, to seek confirmation that she was loved.
She unzipped Vail’s pants, and he let them slide down to land upon the mats. Ten feet above the ground, they hung suspended, their bodies relying upon each other for support.
Lyric fitted herself in the silks so her support was a cradle of fabric bracing her elbows. Spreading her legs, she wrapped them about Vail’s hips and lowered onto his cock. “Don’t let go,” she whispered.
“Let go? I’m trying not to come right away. Lyric, this is incredible. We’re flying and having sex.”
She tilted back and jerked her head to the right, which set them to a sway, and then Vail felt her intention and moved his body with hers. They spun out widely, joined together and flying.
He spread out his arms, completely supported by the silks twisted at his thighs, and cried out as climax shuddered through his body. She wrapped her arms and legs tightly about him, feeding off his tremors. And they spun slowly and descended to the mats together.
They settled onto the thick mats in a tumble of arms, legs and laughter. “That was amazing.”
When she laughed, Lyric tilted her head to the side to expose the sweep of her pale neck.
Vail stroked his fingers along her neck, sweeping aside strands of dark hair that she preferred golden but knew he would admire in any color so long as he could touch it.
Bending, he touched his nose to her neck, beside the pulsing vein.
“Thanks for being here when I needed you most,” she said. “I feel like I could get through anything with you. You’re the rock I’ve never had.”
Kissing her neck, he licked her skin. “What if I need you to be my rock? Lyric, I feel something…. I’ve felt it since we left my place. I think it’s the blood hunger. I know now is not the right time—”
“Now is the best time, lover.” She curled her hand at the back of his head and gently pulled him to her neck.
Brushing his lip over the tender vein, he gauged the steady thrum of blood beneath the surface. Her life.
His sustenance. If he would take it.
Did he want it? Could he release all the years of lies and deception Cressida had instilled in his soul, the idea that ichor had only ever sustained him?
Dare he?
“Take what you will,” she whispered. “I’m yours, Vaillant.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
VAIL WILLED DOWN his fangs. The tingle in his gums always stirred his hunger, and this time was no different, save for the tight clutch in his gut. Nervous, then. But some inner beast roared forward and demanded it be fed what it had always been denied.
The darkness Cressida had tamed, he would now set free.
Pricking a fang against Lyric’s flesh, he did not open the skin, only testing as he dragged it over the thick, enticing vein. She hissed with pleasure. Her body arched against his, making him instantly erect. He clasped her breast, filling his palm with her roundness. And still, he lingered, pointed fang to smooth skin.
Could he do this?
He’d been inside her with his cock, thrusting deeply and taking from her what he desired, and giving pleasure in return. They knew how to satisfy one another. But the sex was not a means to bond.
Only the blood could forever entwine them.
“I love you, Lyric.”
As she whispered, “Yes,” Vail sank his fangs into her skin. They entered with ease, and hot blood spurted against the roof of his mouth. It dripped onto his tongue, and he retracted his fangs to swirl the flavor about his palate.
He moaned as the intensity of Lyric’s being struck him. Hot. Bold. Sweet. Sexy. It was like no ichor he’d ever consumed.
And he wanted more.
He pressed his mouth over the entry points and fed upon her life. Her hand slid up his torso, clinging but not demanding, just touching, the curves of her nails cutting a gentle claim into his soul. She tilted her head farther back and he caught it with his palm, holding her in an embrace three mortal decades in the making.
An embrace that would have been impossible had he decided to put on the May bell bracelet. This embrace fed him the strength and power he’d not known he was missing until now.
Straddling her hips, he knelt, drawing her up in the cradle of his arms, and fed on his lover’s blood. Swallowing it, sucking it, savoring it for the perfect blend that it was. Falling into the crimson salvation of Lyric.
Lyric inside of him.
Lyric becoming him.
He, becoming Lyric.
“Lover,” he whispered against her neck, dashing out his tongue to slick over a droplet. “Lyric, mine.”
She hugged him, melding her body against his. As he moved, the hanging silks brushed his bare back. And the darkness within Vail expanded. It pulsed with a life of its own, a beautiful darkness that he snatched out to claim.
His fangs descended again, and he bent to bite into the high curve of her breast. Lyric cried out in pleasure. Her fingernails gashed his back and shoulders, but she did not break skin. He wanted her to. He wanted to bleed for her.
“This is what I’ve hungered for,” he muttered against her breast, licking, and then sucking. “You, Lyric. Your blood.”
“I love you, Vail.”
He laughed against her skin, and kissed her over the bite marks that swelled the flesh. “Yes.” Another kiss along her throat. And one kiss to each puncture on her skin. “Yes, and yes.”
And he sank his fangs into her neck again, below the previous bite, and let the blood flow down his throat and sweep him to oblivion.
* * *
HE HELD HER in the cr
adle of his arms, and she floated beyond the moment and into another space that could only ever be occupied by Vail and her. That he’d trusted her to take her blood was beyond words, but the way he claimed her now took away her breath.
A fierce gentleness held her captive. At her neck he mastered her. At her breast he teased and tasted her. At her lips, he now kissed her, the taste of her blood on his tongue. She devoured his need, his urgent want and desire. It was all she desired.
Sliding a leg along Vail’s hip, she opened herself to allow him to penetrate her doubly. The swollen head of his cock intruded into her wetness at the same time his fangs pierced her breast. Vail growled that delicious wanton tone.
She was his.
* * *
AFTER A SHOWER, Lyric slipped on a red jersey dress that clung to her curves, then eyed the thigh-high black suede boots in her closet. Vail’s hands slid down the fabric from behind her, and he kissed her neck where the bite marks had already healed, but she still felt tender. His touch reignited the hum of pleasure the bite had given her, and she wanted him to do it again, and again.
But they needed to reconcile more important things before they could lose themselves completely in this new and lasting bond.
“I can see your red, ashy aura now,” he said.
“I can feel your shimmer.”
“I’m completely vampire.”
“You are. How do you feel about that?”
“Yippi-i-oo!”
Laughing, she slipped on the suede boots, which tied up the backs with a bright red ribbon. She posed for him and he nodded approvingly. Slicking his fingers through his soot-dark hair spiked it and gave it an Elvis swoosh. Her sexy lover waggled his eyebrows and delivered the bad-boy smirk that had attracted her even when she’d been afraid of him.
She loved the goth look on him now, but wouldn’t call it that. He had a style all his own. The steel-gray shirt studded in hematite buttons, the dark jacket that sported a line of spikes along the seam of each arm. All of it played into his appeal. Had he the faery ointment on his eyes, she would have to shove him onto the bed and take him again, so powerful was his dark glamour.
