“Sam. You’re here.” Vincent frowned. “Why are you here?”
“We had to leave the apartment. The Pack hit it, Ben barely made it out. Alice... we don’t know where she is.” Vincent nodded, but oddly enough didn’t seem worried. “You gave Ben this address, so here we are.”
“Ben’s here, too?”
Sam nodded. “And Frank. They’re downstairs. I can go if you’re—“
“No. I’ll grab some things while you’re in the shower... Give you some privacy.”
“I don’t...” Sam bit her lip, searched for the words... God, please, give me the right words... “I don’t really need the privacy but thank you.” Vincent kept moving though, grabbed a pillow and blanket off the bed, and started toward the stairs.
Please don’t go.
She wasn’t sure it had worked, whether the thoughts had been strong enough to push through the barrier he had put up around his mind. He stopped, and Sam still wasn’t sure, until he turned to look at her.
I don’t want privacy... Sam thought, her mind straining as she pushed the words toward him, hoping he wouldn’t clamp down and shut her out for good. I want to understand.
“Sam, you can’t possibly understand... what I am. What that means.”
“Okay,” Sam replied. “I’ll give you that. Here’s what I do understand. You... are the best man I know, perhaps the best I’ve ever known. You’ve... been... like this for more than a decade, and yet, when I look in your eyes, all I see is a man. You’re not perfect, and sometimes you are more than a little bit of an asshole... but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter how many werewolves you’ve killed, or that you like to watch trivia shows, or that you stress yourself out, taking too much on and worrying about things. That’s who you are, and if there’s more to you that I haven’t seen yet... then show me. If you think the monster inside of you, the same one inside of me, is too awful... You let me be the judge of that, ‘cause I can take it. But what I can’t take is you turning away from me, shutting me out, like none of this matters any more. And it does matter, Vincent, it matters so much. So, show me what you are, and if you can’t trust me enough to do that... then stay anyway, and let me love you despite what you believe yourself to be.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Vincent didn’t make a definitive move, either to leave or to stay, and Sam began to wonder what was going to happen, when suddenly... he smiled, a soft smile that spread across his lips, the light of it eventually reaching his eyes.
“You don’t give up easily, do you?”
Sam shook her head. “Not when it’s something, or someone, I believe in.”
Vincent moved slowly, tossed the pillow and blanket back onto the bed, and stood there, still smiling, his arms empty. That needed to be remedied immediately.
Sam threw herself into his arms, and the two embraced tightly. Vincent nestled his face into her neck, his lips and stubble brushing over her skin, and sending chills of goosebumps throughout her body. Sam raised her head up, and gasped.
“What? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Sam shook her head, smoothing the concerned frown lines from his handsome face.
“No, but I just thought of something.”
“Does it involve nudity?” Vincent winked, his smile growing roguish.
“Actually, it does.” Sam grinned. “I was all worried about taking a bath, because I thought I’d fall asleep. Now...” She leaned in, and brought her lips close to his ear, close enough that they grasped his earlobe as she spoke. “You can keep me awake.”
Vincent shook his head. “No, takes too long to fill the tub. We’re going to have to start here. Fill the tub for round two.” He picked her up, burying his face in her chest, and, turning quickly, flopped Sam down on the bed. Sam squealed and squirmed to get away, but Vincent wasn’t having it. He pinned her arms above her head and laid down on top of her, the heat of his body pressing into her more than his actual weight did.
“You gonna behave, love?”
“When do I ever behave?” Vincent laughed at that, the movement shaking the bed, and only serving to arouse Sam more than she already was.
“Good point.” He looked at her, his laughter fading into a smile, and he smoothed her hair in that soft, petting sort of way that always made her feel cherished. He rubbed her earlobe briefly, another tender gesture they shared. His eyes moved over her face, seemed to take in ever curve, every feature, ever summer freckle. He leaned in, kissing her gently, his tongue gently caressing her lips at the end as he leaned back again.
“I love you, darlin’... You know that, right?” Sam reached up, gently touching his stubble-covered cheek, brushing an errant curl back off his forehead. Her eyes teared up a bit as she answered.
“I know it. I like hearing it, though.”
Vincent lowered his head to kiss her again, and the kiss deepened quickly. Sam slipped her hands under his shirt, the heat of his body searing her skin as she inched the shirt up. He broke the kiss for a moment, pulled the shirt up and over his head.
“Hang on.” Vincent visibly wilted at that, and Sam’s eyes glinted with mischief, a smile twitching at the corner of her lips. “I need to take a shower first. It’s... a very nice shower.” Vincent smirked, and pulled her up with him.
“Alright, fine. One condition, though.” Vincent said, and before she could reply, he began to take off his pants. Sam grinned, and pulled her tee shirt off over her head, then unfastened her jeans.
“I think I’ve already established that nudity will be involved.” Sam slipped out of her pants, turned and walked away toward the “Hers” bathroom. Vincent watched her for a moment, then rushed to catch up, smacking her on the ass as he passed her and got into the bathroom first. “Okay, I’m going to get you for that.”
“Bring it on, darlin’,” Vincent said, as he stripped out of his underwear, and tapped the control panel by the shower, turning it on. He opened the door and held out his hand to her. He busied himself, first undoing Sam’s bra, then slipping her panties off. He pulled her into the shower with him, the warm water cascading over them as they came together. Vincent lifted her up, her legs wrapping around him as he backed her up against the wall of the shower. Their kisses became more intense, as did their breathing, and soon Sam could feel the delicious pressure of him against her... inside her... as rhythm took over, and the feel of the water hitting her skin went from soothing to erotic. The water cascading around them did nothing to drown out the moans, and sighs, and cries of either of them, and Sam wondered fleetingly if the guys downstairs had gone to bed, if they could hear them... Let them hear, Sam thought, as she felt herself on the cusp of release, and clutched Vincent closer, wanting as little distance between them as possible... now, and always.
“Sam?”
Sam heard the husky whisper in her ear, the Irish accent wrapping around the letters and giving her name the most glorious sound she’d ever heard.
“Hmm...” she moaned, and nestled into Vincent’s side, her cheek cushioned on his chest, her fingers gently twirling the hair on his chest.
“I need to tell you something.” Sam felt her blood run cold, but she kept as calm as possible, not wanting to alarm him. Vincent shifted under her, forcing Sam to move. He got out of bed and grabbed his pants off the chair where they had landed earlier.
“Where are you going?” Sam asked, the alarm sneaking into her voice... and flashbacks of the other morning when he dressed and left in a hurry. Vincent must have recalled it as well, or read her mind, because he quickly grabbed the robe from the bathroom, and laid it on the bed.
“Hudson doesn’t want us smoking inside. Come out on the terrace.”
A few minutes later, they were both on the terrace, cigarettes lit and smoke rising. It was still dark, though hints of the coming dawn were beginning to lighten the eastern sky. There was some activity below, mostly delivery trucks trying to get to their destination early, or taxis transporting late-night partiers.
Vincent took a dee
p breath and exhaled with a whoosh.
“I’ve changed...a lot.”
“Changed?” Vincent gave her a meaningful look and waited for Sam’s mind to kick in and process what he’d said. She blinked, frowned, and then... Sam’s eyes went wide with shock. “How much is a lot?”
Vincent smiled awkwardly. “I’m not sure. I think Hudson has it written down somewhere. Although, he wasn’t there for a few of them.”
“So, okay...” Sam sat down on one of the small café chairs on the terrace. This was unexpected, to say the least, though certainly a hopeful sign. One, he was showing signs of opening up, and two, the fact that he’d changed so much meant it could be done and survived.
“Do you know anything about me? I mean...”
“There’s a little in the book... you’ve seen it... And Hudson connected some dots for me... About how you were infected, and about Alice.” Vincent nodded, and sat in the chair across from her.
“The first thing I remember was waking up in the hospital in Dublin. Everything hurt... just everything. They had to keep me doped to keep me still, and quiet.
“I first met Jack about a week later. He came into the room, was talking about blood and genetics, and all I could think of was getting out of there and finding my family... or burying them.” Vincent took a final puff from his cigarette and put it out in the can of sand on the table. “Hudson told me they were all dead, and he could have me released into his care. I said, yes, immediately, thinking I could go do what I wanted as soon as I hit fresh air.” He chuckled. “Little did I know.”
“Did you change right away, like me?” Sam asked.
“No. I had two weeks before the first full moon... and I needed that time. Hudson took me to this house in the country... woods nearby... I ran a lot, worked out, tried to soothe the nerve twitching, and restlessness, and everything. Didn’t work, though.” Vincent grew somber, and kept his eyes lowered. “That first night... Hudson and I walked out to the barn on the property, and there was this cage in the corner...” He smirked. “Hudson wasn’t taking any chances... Said I’d been too agitated during conversion, and he had a bad feeling.
“The moon rose... and it came for me...” He closed his eyes at the memory. “Even now... I can hear my bones... breaking.... Muscles...tearing... and the pain...” He rubbed his eyes briefly, and hurriedly grabbed for another cigarette. He lit it quickly, inhaling deeply. “I nearly tore the door off the cage. Hudson had to tranquilize me.”
“So, you went through that a bunch of times... Being locked up and all?”
“At first, he locked me up.” Vincent sniffed, and tapped the ash into the sand can. “But his scientific analysis revealed interesting things in my blood, as he put it. And good old Jack decided that perhaps the infected weren’t converting properly, because they were injected instead of infected.” Sam’s mouth dropped open, and tears filled her eyes.
“He made you do that?”
“He didn’t make me, Sam, I was driven to do it.” Vincent managed a small smile. “Some kind of natural urge... When I turned, it was all I could think about... getting to people, making them just like me. Only they weren’t. There ended up being no difference in how they accepted it. Hudson wanted to stop, but the Pack wouldn’t allow it. I was...removed from his care.”
“So, they just gathered people up, and once a month they threw them in with you and devil take the hindmost?”
“I wish.” Vincent sighed, and looked at her. Sam’s insides crumbled, for the look in Vincent’s eyes was, well, heartbreaking. “They would...force me to change as needed.” Vincent tossed his cigarette in the sand can, the last bits of ash smothering in the sand and emitting a final wisp of smoke. “That’s why I don’t talk about it. Even seeing you change... I’ll admit, I’m glad I didn’t... I don’t know if I could have stayed... or controlled myself.”
“But you haven’t changed since, right?” Vincent nodded his head slowly, his eyes never leaving Sam’s face. No doubt, he was wondering if his revelation would change things.
“I know,” Vincent began. “I know we may have to do it to end this... And it scares the fucking hell out of me, Sam. I’m capable of anything, and you can’t even put me down.”
“Well,” Sam reached across the table, and took both of Vincent’s hands in hers. She held them tightly a moment, then bent down, kissing the back of the right one gently. When she looked up, the expression on his face was priceless... It could only be called a look of wonder, not in what she was doing, or why, but the kind of wonder you see in a child’s eyes on Christmas... the how-did-I-get-so-lucky kind of wonder... “If we do... and I really hope we don’t, for your sake, but if we do... this time will be completely different.”
“Really? How’s that?” Sam stood, never letting go of his hands, and moved around the small bistro table until she could sit in his lap.
“This time you have me.” Vincent laid his head on her chest, and the two embraced tightly as the first red rays of the hot sun illuminated the sky, reflecting off the buildings and down into Central Park below.
29
THE MÉLANGE OF SMELLS meant Vincent was cooking up one of his delectable breakfast fry-ups, and Sam could feel her stomach rumbling as she descended the stairs, her hair damp from the morning shower. She and Vincent had talked, and loved, and talked some more, until the hour was reasonable enough to start banging about in the kitchen. Vincent had proclaimed he was starving, and Sam had to agree. Chicken tikka masala was delicious, but the rice made it a light meal, and the pair had expended a lot of energy. Sam chuckled as she entered the lofty second floor and headed for the kitchen. She sniffed the air... the food smelled wonderful, but she needed that particular smell first... Coffee. Sam planted a kiss on Vincent’s shoulder as she reached past him for the coffee pot.
“You want everything, love?” He asked, turning slightly to accept a second kiss, this one on the mouth.
“Mhmm, everything” she replied. Moments later, as Sam searched through the refrigerator for the creamer, Ronne slouched in, and slumped into a chair at the counter. “Morning, sunshine,” Sam said, grinning broadly at his disheveled state. The response was barely a grunt, and Ronne laid his head down on the counter a bit harder than he intended.
Vincent chuckled at the obviously hungover man. “Have to go easy on Hudson’s cabinet, mate. You want food?”
Ronne turned his head, though he never picked it up. The movement pulled at his generous nose, and Sam stifled a giggle at the cartoon-like appearance of it.
“My head,” Ronne whispered, “says ‘food’, while my stomach says, ‘leave me alone’...”
“Start with this.” Vincent plopped a mug of black coffee down in front of him, and Ronne winced as the vibration and noise assailed his head. “We’ll get some food in you yet.” He turned to Sam. “It’s ready, darlin’.”
Sam nodded. “Keep it warm for me. I’ll see if Ben’s awake.” She headed quickly for the stairs, and skipped down to the first floor, where the hall of doors, including the front door, were located. Sam stopped in front of the only closed door, as she assumed that was the one Ben had claimed and reached up to knock. Suddenly, the door swung open, and Ben was there in the doorway. Sam backed up, startled by his sudden appearance, and by the fact that said appearance included him wearing no shirt. Ben had always been healthy, if slight, in his build, but he’d filled out a bit in the months since she’d seen him, something that hadn’t been as noticeable when he was clothed.
Another thing that hadn’t been noticeable...was the scar. Ben realized Sam was looking at the scar in the same instant Sam realized where that scar had come from...
“What. The. Hell.” Sam said, trying to maintain a calm, measured tone, even while inside she was freaking out. When had he been scratched? Had he been infected? Why hadn’t he turned?
“Now, Sam, try to stay calm,” Ben began. Sam wondered fleetingly why people did that, ensuring that as they asked you to remain calm, they were literally
activating the freaking-out zones in your brain. “I’m okay. It happened a long time ago.”
“How long?” Sam asked, tightly.
“March. In Brooklyn.”
Sam’s mouth dropped open. “March?! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“And what? What were you going to do?” Ben replied, his voice getting louder as he continued. “Huh? Put me down with one of Vincent’s guns? Or maybe give me an injection, courtesy of Doctor Doom in there?” He jerked his head toward Hudson’s bedroom door, though the doctor was quite clearly not in.
Sam was quiet for a moment and watched her best friend fiddle around in the bedroom, pulling on a black tee shirt and running his fingers through his dyed black hair. He looked so much younger than he was, especially now since he’d taken to wearing less of the emo makeup than he used to. In fact, seeing Ben without the layers of dark liner around his eyes was kind of odd. He’d spent so much of his life hiding wounds, physical and emotional, with that thick layer of black, seeing him without it now was like seeing him anew. These months since she’d last seen him had changed him a lot... Ben was older, stronger, calmer... It was like he’d converted, but he hadn’t... or... She sniffed at him, not bothering to be subtle about it, and Ben glared at her.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Okay, I’m baffled. You were scratched, right? How come nothing happened?”
Ben shrugged. “I don’t know. I felt a little woozy for a few hours after, like when you get a tetanus booster, then... nothing.”
“So, you got infected, and nothing happened?”
“Pretty much, yep.”
“Say that again.” The voice startled them, and Sam whirled around.
Hudson stood in the doorway. He’d clearly been out running, his shirt sticking to his muscular chest like cellophane. He was looking at Ben like he was the Lost Ark of the Covenant, or something.
The Bloodline Series Box Set Page 60
