by Quinn, Cari
Her dark hair spilled over the white pillows, highlighting her pallor. With each day that passed, her once-tawny skin paled further, and her rosy lips darkened. Now they were a delectable shade of claret. And her body had changed as well, curves rounding where hollows had once ruled.
He envisioned her in a dress of deep emerald velvet, with a high neckline that swept along her delicate collarbone. She would be stunning.
Once the change was complete, he would buy her that dress. Or have one made. He would give her everything she’d ever wanted. More, he would give her things she hadn’t even known to want.
If she ever woke, that is.
He knew it was all part of the change. He’d pored over books, even had endless discussions with the infernal Emily, who viewed vampirism as some sort of exciting spectacle not unlike the two-headed woman at the local fair. But he couldn’t deny she was an expert on the subject. On most subjects, actually, something he found admirable when he wasn’t annoyed by her superior intellect.
He’d never been an A student in school. Bs had been tough enough to manage. Unlike his best friend, Kellan hadn’t enjoyed being trapped for hours on end in a classroom. He’d wanted to see things, experience life.
His lips twisted. Experience women, more accurately.
Luke had been the one with the mind for facts and figures. He’d intended to be a high-powered accountant. When that hadn’t worked out, he’d turned his able mind toward the stock market. He’d become a broker who was more often heard from than seen, and it was his financial expertise that allowed them to live as well as they did. It certainly had little to do with Kellan’s earning abilities.
He glanced at the easel in the corner of the room. He was an artist, though he despised the term. To him, the word “artist” brought to mind scrawny men with foppish hats and pencil mustaches. So he skipped the self-indulgent title, preferring to think of himself as a craftsman in a visual medium. He liked to draw. Sketch, more precisely. His medium was charcoal, and his subject? Lately, he had but one. And she was sleeping several feet away.
Stacks of drawings he’d done of her were piled on the table next to his easel. He’d started doing them the night they’d met at Pastry ’n’ Joe, and now she seemed to be the only thing he was capable of rendering. Her hair, so luxuriant and dark. Her eyes, such an impassioned, smoky green. Even though they were red now, he knew the green would return. In time.
Time was something he happened to have a lot of. Patience, however, was not.
He opened the book on his knee, flipping to the page he’d marked. He’d reread the article about the fertility of latent vampires so many times he could probably recite the information cold. But he read it once more, the lines he’d underlined in charcoal leaping out at him.
Fertility peaks after the first intake of blood, rising sharply before beginning to lessen within 24-28 hours. If implantation is to occur, intercourse must take place almost immediately after the original infusion.
He’d mated with Sydney less than forty-eight hours after biting her in her car. Then Lucas had had sex with her less than twelve hours after that. Between her usage of birth control and the timing, the likelihood was that she wasn’t pregnant. If she was, the chance that Lucas was the father was remote.
Kellan shut the book. Remote was still too high as far as he was concerned. Not that it mattered. Whatever was, was. She wanted a child, that much was clear. If she was indeed pregnant with Lucas’s baby, he would learn to love the child as his own.
As he already loved her.
He rose and walked over to the bed, then sat next to her to stroke her feather-soft cheek. Her skin had changed, too. As lovely as she’d been before, now she was luminescent. Maybe the eyes of love influenced his opinion slightly, but he didn’t think so. His Sydney was perfect.
He skimmed his hand down her arm to her long fingers, tipped with aqua blue nails. He smiled and kept going, his palm finally resting on the concave dip of her stomach.
Sydney stirred, her eyelashes fluttering against her almost transparent cheeks. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“I doubt that very seriously.” He leaned over to brush his lips over hers. She usually woke once or twice a day, most often to feed or visit the bathroom, though the latter need was lessening as the days passed. Conversation between them had been scarce, but he often took advantage of the opportunity to hold her while she slept. Sometimes touch was more powerful than words, and he wanted her to know how much he treasured her.
He expected her to continue, but she didn’t. Instead, she yawned and stretched, jiggling her ample breasts under her flimsy green nightgown. He’d found a drawer of lingerie at her apartment, and had immediately scooped this particular item into the bag of things he’d gathered. He imagined the gown was a bit tighter on her now than it had once been, but he was okay with that.
Kellan smiled, his eyes devouring the gorgeous slope of her cleavage. More than okay.
The vibrant color suited her, and he’d yearned to see the deep hue against her pale skin. Now he saw even more. Her nipples strained against the thin fabric, beckoning him.
His mouth dried. And his blood pumped hot.
“You weren’t here the last time I woke.”
“I’m sorry about that, but I had to go out.”
“Lucas said you went to the store.”
“I did.”
He thought of the tests he’d lined up on the kitchen counter. He’d had no clue which pregnancy tests to get, or if they would even work, but the helpful salesclerk had oh-so-perkily directed him to the ones he’d purchased. She’d suggested an ovulation predictor kit, too, which he’d bought as well, though he was pretty sure Sydney would be done ovulating by now.
Not that he could say for certain. He was a guy. Much more than a guy, true, but he was still male. What the hell did he know about ovulation? Even the word sounded ominous.
“What did you buy?” Her voice was slurred, alluringly so. She sounded as if she’d had a bit too much to drink. When he met her heavy-lidded eyes, she smiled. “Anything for me?”
“A couple things, actually. I bought you a treat.”
“Really? What?”
“Strawberry ice cream. You told me once that was your favorite.” Noticing her skin seemed flushed, he got up to turn on the air-conditioning unit he’d purchased for the window. The heat didn’t affect him anymore, but it was a warm day. He didn’t want her to be uncomfortable.
“It was. But will it still taste the same? And can I even eat?”
“You can still eat, but regarding the taste? Only one way to find out. “
Kellan fiddled with dials and knobs. He had no clue how to work the blasted thing. Lucas was the one who knew how to use the stupid machine, not him.
“Where’s Lucas? He’s always playing with the A/C.”
“He’s at work. He has an office downtown that he goes to occasionally. Most of the time he works from home.”
Even he could hear the irritation in his response, but come on. What man liked hearing that another could do something he was apparently incapable of? Especially something as lowering as operating a damned A/C unit.
To his surprise, Sydney rose and took a few halting steps to join him at the window. Her soft fingertips slid over his, pushing buttons and rotating dials until a steady stream of cool air wafted over them.
“There. Perfect.”
He cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her lightly on the mouth. “You’re a genius.”
“Hardly.” She grinned against his lips. “I have the same unit in my apartment.” Then her smile dimmed. “Had. Since I’m guessing you won’t allow me to leave.”
His chest tightened until the area seemed too cramped to hold his rampaging heart. “You want to go?”
“I can’t stay here forever.”
“Until you’re well—”
“I won’t ever be well.”
“You know what I mean.” Kellan finger-combed her silky ha
ir away from her face. “You’ll get to a point where the change has progressed as much as it can, but you’d need to be bitten again to the brink of death to become a true vampire. Now you’re somewhere in between.”
“With red eyes.”
“The woman I’m looking at right now has green eyes. Beautiful, clear green eyes.”
She stared at him for a moment, then dashed off to the bathroom to check for herself. At her joyful whoop, he grinned.
“They really are green!”
“Told you.” He laughed when she appeared in the bathroom doorway, all but vibrating with exhilaration. “You’re most of the way through the transformation. The book said up to two weeks, and it’s been almost that since we picked you up.”
Sydney strolled back into the bedroom. He didn’t miss the way she fingered the spaghetti strap of her nightgown, but he didn’t want to read too much into it, either.
His cock, though, was reading plenty.
“How do you feel?” he asked quietly as she circled the bed.
Her predatory green gaze flickered over his bare chest, skimmed the black silk pajama pants that rode low on his hips. “Hungry.”
He lifted his wrist and, watching her, sliced his vein with his fangs. This was now part of their routine, so she needed no coaxing. She gripped his extended hand and clasped her lips over the bloody wound. His fingers flexed in hers. Clenched. Deep, dark pleasure bubbled in his gut, flowing through his system like some sort of magic elixir.
And when she lifted her head and flashed the bright white fangs he’d seen only glimpses of before, dripping red with his blood, it took every shred of his strength to keep from throwing her on the bed.
As if she could read his thoughts, she smiled and smacked her lips. “Delicious. But I’m still thirsty.” She moved closer and unknotted the drawstring of his pants.
“What are you doing?” His voice wasn’t steady as she freed his straining erection, already painfully thick and damp with arousal.
“Looks like I’m touching a gorgeous cock.”
She made a band of her fingers around his shaft and started to work him mercilessly. In mere moments, he was gasping.
“Now I’m going to suck it.” She knelt and rubbed the head against her lips, her eyes slumberous with delight. “And bite it.” Her fingers traced the vein that throbbed along the underside. “Right here.”
“Jesus, Sydney.”
He nearly begged when her mouth claimed the tip. A few drops of pre-cum trickled from his slit as her free hand kneaded his stomach. Even her palm against his tensed muscles pushed him closer to orgasm. But she continued to draw on him, gently increasing her suction, then eased back to trace her tongue along the vein that pulsed for her.
He’d thought he was prepared for her to bite. She’d warned him, after all. But the instant her fledgling fangs scored his flesh, his balls clenched and he started to spurt, drizzling his release over the beautiful breasts she’d bared for him at the last possible moment.
He came and came, groaning as she slurped his blood into her throat. And then when he was sure it was over, she took his swollen cock deep into her mouth. He shouted and clutched her hair, the sight of her pleasuring him, her distended nipples bouncing, pushing him past any control. This climax stole the breath he gathered to shout, buckled his knees. But she only sucked harder.
“Ah, baby. I love you.” He bent to gather her in her arms, taking her lips in a drugging sex-and-blood laced kiss as he laid her on the bed. “More every minute.” He trailed kisses down her neck, trying to resist his cock’s insistent and unerring pursuit of the warm, wet opening between her thighs. “You know that, right?”
Sydney stared up at him, her hair pooled around her head, her sooty lashes tangled around her clear, expressive eyes. Eyes now filled with trepidation rather than passion. “Why do we have to put labels on things? Can’t we just—” she hiked up her nightgown, revealing her dewy pink folds “—enjoy?”
He wanted to enjoy. Wanted to fuck her until his name was the only word she remembered how to say. But he couldn’t pretend he didn’t feel as he did, even if she was scared. “You’re my mate, Sydney. That’s a lifelong commitment. Casual enjoyment isn’t part of the scenario.”
“Casual?” She let out a purring laugh and rocked her hips upward, sheathing him with one slick undulation of her body. Moist heat surrounded him, impelling him to thrust. “Doesn’t feel casual to me.”
He gripped her hands beside her head and knotted their fingers together. His gaze hot on hers, he started to move inside her, raising and lowering his hips in a blur until she was arching and panting beneath him.
Her lips parted on a ragged moan. “Oh, yes. Kellan.”
He sliced his fangs along her lower lip until blood beaded on the plump flesh. He lapped up every drop, pumping harder, driving her back into the mattress with his surges inside her. She screamed, long, thin wails that raked over his skin like silk ropes.
“Come. Come.” The demand spilled out of him. “Let me feel it.”
Sydney reared up in bed and bit into his shoulder. “Oh, I feel—”
He cut off her gasp with his mouth and delved his fingers between their joined bodies to manipulate her clit. She was so swollen. So blisteringly wet.
“There. Right there.” Sydney started to shake. “Oh, God.”
Her reverberations traveled up the entire length of his cock. Speared straight into his balls. She pulsed around him, tiny explosions of intense heat. He shouted her name as he came again, pulling out then surging deep so she could absorb every bit of his scalding release. Before the last spasm stopped, he drew back to lift her legs up on his shoulders, bending her knees until she was totally spread open and exposed to him. He pounded into her again and again, swallowing her excited puffs of breath and needy cries while he sucked on her tongue.
She was his. Would be his for all eternity. And he wouldn’t allow her to forget that for even a moment.
“Kellan, you’re killing me.”
Her body thrashed under his, and her head whipped from side to side. Her expressions shifted from bliss to the brink of pain and back again, but her rhythmic hip thrusts and the liquid easing his thrusts let him know exactly how much she was enjoying herself.
Enjoying. What a hateful word.
He gripped her ankles and rocked against her, swiveling to reach every hidden spot. Her inner walls cupped him, contracting with each of his massaging strokes. When she whimpered, he changed the angle and ground the base of his shaft against her still-sensitive clit.
“Gonna come for me again?” He panted the question against her glistening red lips. Lips that had devoured his blood and his come in equal measure, so that each kiss burned with his own flavor.
She didn’t answer.
He moved faster. Harder. Pressed her for everything she had to give. Finally she imploded, showering him with her wetness as she threw her head back and moaned loud enough to shatter the windows. He followed right behind her, half-expecting his spine to snap from the violent force of his plunges.
Once the haze lifted, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. That Sydney still breathed like a marathon runner beside him gratified him somewhat, but not much.
Only two thoughts resided in his mind. She didn’t love him. And she didn’t seem to care that he loved her.
He waited for her to say something, or to give him that look under her lashes that made his stomach clench with longing. Instead she adjusted her nightgown, hiding her breasts from him and lowering the hem to her thighs. Then she got up and walked out of the room.
“Fuck.” He punched the pillow still indented with the imprint of her head.
Now what?
***
Baby, I love you. More every minute.
Sydney pulled at her hair and stared at her dazed eyes in the bathroom mirror. She looked like a woman who had been thoroughly plundered. Plundered and used and she’d loved every goddamn minute of it.
But that didn’t mean she loved him. It was too soon. She’d been locked up in this place for two weeks, barely waking long enough to talk to him while she sucked down her supper. They’d talked more at Pastry ’n’ Joe, for pity’s sake. She cared for him, of course, and she definitely wanted him—
“God!” She closed her eyes and shook her head. What the hell was wrong with her? For the first time since she’d picked him and Lucas up on the side of the road, she felt more like herself. More…normal. And now that she did, how could she even be considering having feelings for a vampire?
A goddamned vampire. The man she drank from as if he were her own personal sippy cup.
She braced her hands on the sink and leaned close to the mirror to examine her eyes. Not even a speck of red remained in the green. Maybe it was an aberration. Some horrible mistake. She’d just fallen in with a bad crowd. Somehow they’d used delicious, dirty sex to influence her into thinking she needed blood to survive.
She wasn’t a vampire, latent or otherwise. She wasn’t. Sydney Louise Langdon was a barista and a chakra and palm reader. That’s all.
And she was very much single.
The last thought roused her enough to smile. If tiny, gleaming white fangs hadn’t marred her expression, she might’ve actually felt better.
Okay, so the fangs were a little harder to explain.
On the verge of tears, she lowered onto the toilet and stared down at her flat belly. She felt stirring deep inside her, a shifting almost. Her hands trembled as she cupped her stomach. Could life grow there? Could it really be possible?
But when the cramps strengthened, she knew. Knew even before the white tissue came up streaked with red. As her cries finally broke free from her chest in shuddering sobs, she saw the tidy line of pregnancy tests on the counter.
***
When Lucas returned with his bookworm, Kellan was staring at the closed bathroom door. Sydney had been in there for over an hour, and he’d had to quell the urge to summon her out more times than he could count. Then again, maybe she’d fainted. He’d pounded into her awfully hard, especially since she’d only recently arisen from the transformation.
