“Enough,” Cian’s voice said sharply.
Amaliya ignored him, wanting more. The blood was so rich, so delicious. The soft body of the woman in her arms elicited the desire for so much more. The more the girl writhed, the more Amaliya wanted to take her fully.
“Enough!”
To her dismay, Cian’s fingers pried her teeth out of the girl’s flesh and he shoved Amaliya into the wall. Clutching her shirt, he scowled at her.
“I’m hungry,” Amaliya moaned, licking her lips.
“I know. But we do not kill.”
“I wasn’t going to...” Amaliya’s voice trailed off as she saw the girl slumped over on the sink. “Is she...?”
“No. She’s not.” Cian licked the bloody wound on the woman’s throat closed and grabbed the few paper towels left in the dispenser. Running some water over them, he cleaned the streaks of blood from the woman’s neck and breasts.
Hugging herself, Amaliya watched, dismay replacing her feeding fervor. Her victim was sluggishly rousing, but she was a bit more pallid than she should have been. Amaliya felt a twinge of guilt as she realized she had taken a little too much.
“Look at me,” Cian said to the human, his hands cradling her face.
Slowly, the woman’s eyelids opened.
Cian’s hazel eyes peered into the human’s, and Amaliya felt his power, red and vibrant, twisting about the woman’s mind. A delighted smile flitted over the mortal’s smeared red lips. The false memories that Cian was pressing into her mind were obviously very erotic from the way the human was writhing under his touch. When he finished, the girl’s eyes closed.
“She’ll awaken in around ten minutes,” Cian said, his Irish brogue a bit thicker than normal, revealing his agitation.
“I am just so hungry,” Amaliya said, lowering her eyes. “I usually feel high and totally full after being with the dead, but not tonight.”
“Tonight you served as a battery for Samantha.” Cian rubbed his eyes, then sighed. “You will need to find a balance between you.”
Amaliya hated letting Cian down. The trust they shared was important to her. He trusted her not to bring the attention of the authorities down on them by killing her victims. Though it was embarrassing to admit, she had almost drained the girl completely dry.
“But you didn’t.” Cian took her in his arms, the hardness of his body and the coolness of his touch a familiar comfort.
For once she didn’t complain about him reading her mind. Instead, she rested her head on his shoulder. The hunger inside of her was still gnawing at her gut.
“Feed from me. I fed well earlier. You need to regain control of yourself,” Cian whispered in her ear.
A smile crept onto her lips. “I remember the first time I fed from you.”
Cian’s mouth was cold and soft against hers. “I remember, too.”
Sliding her fingers through his chestnut locks, she bent her head to his throat. From the very beginning they had been drawn to each other in a terrifying and dynamic way. It had been lust in the beginning, but had quickly evolved into something much deeper and more frightening.
When Amaliya sank her fangs into his throat, Cian trembled and one hand settled underneath the mantle of her hair to rest against her neck. There was still a hint of warmth in the blood. The life threaded through it seeped into the marrow of her very being. With a low growl, Amaliya’s hands strayed downward but her hands paused on his belt. She needed to regain control, not encourage him to lose his own, so she snaked her arms around him and held him close.
Every time she fed from Cian, she was bound more intricately to the vampire on a supernatural level. There was a time when such knowledge would have sent her fleeing, but now she embraced it. All her life she had failed the expectations of others. Before her mother, Marlena, had died, she had shared her hopes and dreams for her daughter’s future. College, a career, a family: all the trappings of a good life in her mother’s eyes. After Marlena’s death, Amaliya had been typecast as the family failure, the black sheep, and the unredeemable troublemaker. Her father’s looks of disappointment haunted her throughout her childhood. Nothing she had ever said, or done, had ever satisfied him. Amaliya had careened through her life with no sense of real purpose until she had woken up in a forest grave with a new, terrible hunger. It was then she had found her purpose in life: to survive.
Though that goal remained at the core of her being, she had also evolved into a fighter, a protector, a lover, and a true friend. She was definitely not the same girl she had been before, yet, she was still a rebel who did not like to be told what to do, or constrained in anyway. Maybe that was what made her and Cian work so well. Neither one of them had any real interest in adhering to any particular societal rules.
Cian’s hand stiffened in her hair and drew her away from his throat. Her tongue flicked over the tiny wounds she had inflicted and the last few precious drops of blood. Pressing her against the grimy wall, Cian’s lips covered hers and overwhelmed her mouth. The kiss was full of everything that throbbed between them: love, lust, blood, and power.
Finally, they parted.
“Almost out of time,” he whispered against her lips. His eyes darted toward the young woman still held in his thrall. “Meet me outside.”
“Okay,” Amaliya breathed, trying to keep herself from crawling on top of him.
The human began to stir, the embedded suggestion that Cian had planted in her mind taking hold. Fading into shadows, Cian waited by the door. Amaliya licked her lips and stepped closer to woman. Sliding her hands over the mortal’s hips, Amaliya waited.
Several seconds later, the other woman flashed into awareness as a massive orgasm seized her. Clutching Amaliya close, the girl writhed with pleasure. Amaliya couldn’t help but grin. Cian must have given her victim one hell of an implanted memory.
“You’re amazing,” the girl gasped, then kissed Amaliya ravenously.
Amaliya lost herself for a few minutes in the afterglow of her feeding, relishing the softness of the other woman’s body and her full lips. Giggling, they finally parted, flushed, and sated. Stepping back, Amaliya helped the pretty brunette off the sink.
“Are you sure you won’t come home with me?”
Amaliya lightly ran her hand down the girl’s arm. “I wish I could, but my husband’s a real tyrant. He doesn’t get my needs.”
Pouting, the mortal nodded her head. “I used to have one of those. I ditched him.”
“He’s rich and has a big cock. It’s hard to give up,” Amaliya said. She sensed Cian’s amusement, but didn’t look toward the place where he was hidden by his power.
“I hear ya,” the other woman sighed.
Slipping out into the club, she gave the girl one last peck on the lips before weaving her way through the tight cluster of people near the bar. The harsh music thrummed through her body and she wanted to lose herself in it. It made her a bit grumpy to know that any fun nights out would have to wait until after she ripped The Summoner’s head off his shoulders and finished him for good.
There weren’t a lot of people on the sidewalk, so Amaliya spotted Cian right away. He was leaning against a lamppost waiting for her. Strolling up to him, she put her hands on her hips.
“Did you get her number?” Cian asked.
“Nah.”
“She was very pretty,” Cian said, his tone teasing.
“Well, yeah. I know how to pick ‘em.” Amaliya slanted her body toward him, giving him a sly smile. “So did you give her a really awesome memory of me?”
“You were amazing. The best ever. You’ve ruined her for all other women. And probably men.”
“Yes!” Amaliya high-fived him.
“You could probably still go get her number. For after the apocalypse.” Cian caught her about the waist with one arm and guided her down the sidewalk.
“Oh, you liked her!” Amaliya had to admit the girl had been delicious. “I can go back.”
“Nah.” Cian kissed her temple. “I
just thought she might be a nice meal and a bit more sometime in the future.”
Snuggling into his side, Amaliya felt content despite the cloud of impending doom hovering over their heads. This is the life she wanted. Freedom to be with Cian. Freedom to hunt. Freedom to feed from and flirt with pretty young things, or dangerously hot metalheads. Blood, sex, magic, metal, and Cian were all the things that made her happy. She still felt guilt that Pete had died trying to save her from the life she loved. Pete had dreamed of a life with her filled with sunlight, a perfect home, marriage and children. She was grateful that he didn’t know that those were the things she had never really imagined for herself. The thought of marriage made her skin crawl and she could never imagine herself being pregnant.
“You, pregnant.” Cian chuckled.
“Fuck you.”
“I can’t imagine that either. Or the marriage thing. Though you would be a lovely bride. All dressed in white.” He was mocking her.
“Fuck you again.” Amaliya shook her head.
A slight smile graced Cian’s lips. He was being the mysterious, moody vampire tonight. She wondered if it was because of what had occurred between her and Samantha.
“No, no. It needed to happen. You both needed to rise to full power. It’s something else.”
“You’re not freaked out because I now have this deep connection to your ex-fiancée?” Amaliya had actually wondered if it would bother him. Though both of them had a big disconnect between sex and love, the emotional bond between them was very real and even sacred.
“Do I suddenly fear you’re madly in love with Samantha and want to leave me for her?” Cian smirked. “Why, yes I am.”
“You’re such a dick,” Amaliya exclaimed.
“I’m not worried about that. I’m concerned about something else altogether.” Cian drew her around a corner and they walked up a darkened side street toward the parking lot.
“What is it?”
Cian stopped in mid-stride, turned toward her, and took her hands gently in his own. “Bianca.”
“What about Bianca?” Amaliya knew before he even answered. The vision she’d had and the dreams had already told her the truth, but now she was going to hear it from Cian’s lips and her emotions began to harshly bubble in her chest.
“Benchley discovered that there’s a good chance she’s still alive,” Cian answered, then poured out the rest of what he had been told by Jeff.
Standing in the shadows of an old vacant bar, Amaliya fought against the urge to be furious at all three men. She balled her hands into fists and struggled with the impulse to storm off.
“Benchley had no fuckin’ right to tell Jeff. And Jeff had no fuckin’ right to tell you! Behind my back,” Amaliya wanted to scream with her frustration.
Cian folded his arms across his chest and gave her his most intense look. “Do you want to know what scares me, Liya? Bianca. Because I know you will do everything in your fuckin’ power to save her.”
“She’s like me!” Amaliya cried out. “I can’t abandon her! Our roles could have been so easily reversed. Why did I rise in three nights when she didn’t?”
“Jeff thinks it’s because you suppressed all your magical abilities and were living as a human. All accounts about Bianca are that she was struggling constantly with what she was, Liya. She was severely haunted by her power.”
A vivid memory of Bianca stepping out in front of her on the last day of her life sprang into her mind. The hesitant nervousness of the other girl had been off-putting. Bianca had tried to talk to her. She had said something, then The Summoner had come out of the building.
“I think she tried to save me,” Amaliya said, her voice catching.
“What?”
Though her death was shrouded in a haze, Amaliya had distorted dreams of dying. Sometimes, she saw flashes of Bianca’s face. “I think Bianca tried to warn me about The Summoner. I think she may have tried to save me, but failed.”
“You never said this before.” Cian’s brow furrowed beneath the fringe of his hair.
“It’s always been a really messed up memory. More a dream than anything, but I think it’s real.” Running her trembling fingers through her hair, Amaliya held her long tresses back from her face. “Shit, Cian. I can’t just abandon her!”
“But you also can’t go off half-assed,” Cian retorted. “You can’t go running off to rescue her when we don’t even know where she is. And how are you going to remove The Summoner from her body?”
With a cry of anger, Amaliya slammed the side of her fist against the building next to her. There was a loud crack as a spider web of fissures formed in the bricks. He was right and it infuriated her. Her inclination was to commandeer his car and drive immediately to San Antonio. But she knew that was foolhardy.
“We’ll sort this out together,” Cian said calmly, but with steel in his tone.
With an exasperated sigh, Amaliya stared past him, her vision blurred by the tears in her eyes. “I’m not going to kill him if she’s still trapped inside her own body.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it. I won’t kill her, Cian. I won’t sacrifice her for him.” Too many people had already died trying to save Amaliya’s life. She wasn’t about to let Bianca die a second time.
“I understand. We’ll find a way.” He met her glare with a steady gaze. “I promise you.”
The fight left her at his vow. The one thing Cian never did was let her down. Once he committed to doing something, he did it. He wasn’t lying to get her to not do something foolish.
“I won’t bullshit you on this.” Cian gave her a weary smile. “I know that if I did it would backfire immediately.”
“I’d go to San Antonio and find a way to save her.”
“Or die trying.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re incredibly, annoyingly stubborn.”
“Fucking-A.”
Cian dragged her into his arms, his lips pressed to her forehead. Wrapping her in his embrace, he rocked her gently. “I love you for it even if it scares me to death.”
“Sucks to be you.” Amaliya twined her arms around his neck and allowed herself to calm down. If she wanted to, she could keep her anger going for hours, but it wasn’t worth it. In the end Cian would help her disengage The Summoner from Bianca’s body and she would save the world.
“It’s as simple as that,” Cian agreed.
“Exactly.”
Chapter 17
Roberto prowled around the bedroom Samantha shared with Jeff, ignoring the cat sitting in the middle of the bed hissing at him. The ghost’s body was frayed around the edges and his face tended to be out of focus, but it was almost like the old days when Roberto and Samantha had given each other hell. Though she was grateful he had agreed to help her, he was already on her nerves.
Throwing out his arms, he declared, “It’s so...plebian.”
“Fuck you,” Samantha automatically answered.
“Though the antiques have potential. If they were properly restored.” Roberto sniffed.
“You’re not here to snark on the house’s decor.”
“I wouldn’t call this decor. I would call it a...catastrophe. This is far worse than Cian’s IKEA obsession.”
“Yeah. What’s up with that?” Samantha shook her head and returned to her task. Scrounging around in her large purse for her iPad, Samantha wondered how something so big could get lost. Pulling a stack of bills, a couple of fashion magazines, and her makeup bag out of the purse, she finally spotted the tablet. Jerking it out, she flipped open the case.
“What’s that?” Roberto asked, drifting closer.
“My notes on how to deal with you, dickface.” Samantha drew up the information she had collected from Benchley and Alexia’s research.
The ghost smirked.
“What?”
“Your power is wasted on you.”
Samantha raised one finger, ignoring him. “First off, you can’t leave the property without my permission
.”
The moment she said the words, she felt her magic surge out in a big wave. She was peculiarly aware of it building a perimeter around the house. It was as if she had some sort of supernatural radar that pinged back information to her. Maybe she did. Tilting her head, she let her new powers decipher what she was feeling. It was a bizarre sensation, but she could feel, see, and almost taste the ward she had placed to keep Roberto in check.
Roberto narrowed his eyes. They looked more like smudges of black in his slightly blurred face. “Hmm...”
Giving him a victorious look, Samantha said, “See. My powers aren’t wasted. I can do this.”
“Apparently,” the ghost answered with a hint of grudging respect.
“Where was I? Oh, yeah. You’re not allowed to enter any of the bedrooms without permission. Especially this one. We don’t need you spying on us having...you know...relations.” Another ripple of her magic flowed out, creating new wards within the house.
The ghost winced, then began to slide along the floor as misty tentacles of her magic gripped him and dragged him toward the door. Pinwheeling his arms, he tried to grab onto something.
“Samantha!”
“Oh, you have permission to be here right now!”
Roberto’s skid stopped just before the door. He glared at her.
“Oops.” Samantha made a mental note to remember that her magic took her words literally.
“What is my job exactly?” Roberto’s voice was cold, angry, and stubborn.
“You’re going to be the general of my ghost army,” Samantha answered. “Cool, huh?”
“Possibly,” Roberto replied noncommittally, but appeared intrigued.
“Also, play nice with the others. Cian’s in charge. Don’t piss him off.”
His hazy form slightly drooping, Roberto averted his face.
“Are you listening to me?”
“Yes. I am. Unfortunately.”
“Be nice, Roberto. I saved you.” Samantha frowned, worried that maybe this had been a bad idea after all.
“I am grateful for that, but a ghost can have many regrets once their life is over. I know I do.”
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