by Tally Adams
"Good afternoon," he returned. "How are you feeling today?"
The polite question gave her pause. "Much better, thanks. Can you tell me how I got here?"
"Lyric?" Emily called just before she appeared in the doorway directly across the hall. "Thank goodness!" she said, rushing forward to grasp Lyric's hands and lead her into the room she'd just come from. "William's meeting with Jonathon today. I decided to stay here and wait for you to come around. Are you feeling all right?" She peered into Lyric's face speculatively. "You still look pretty pale."
"I'm weak, but everything else seems to be back to normal," Lyric told her, striding over to sit on the edge of the bed, which was much larger than the single in her own room. "Why are we here?"
"After you passed out, Jonathon insisted the whole flock come here for protection. William tried to argue the point, but the fact that one of our vampires was half-dead, our werewolf has a broken leg, and our human had collapsed sort of made the case for refusal a little tough," Emily said, flopping down on the bed beside her with an ironic smile.
Lyric couldn't help but return the smile. "I could see how that would make it difficult. When you put it that way, we didn't really fare all that well, did we?"
Emily rolled over to face the ceiling. "We're all still alive. That makes it a win in my book."
"I suppose," Lyric said without conviction. "I'm sorry about your sister."
"They didn't tell you?" Emily asked on a gasp. Then, answering herself, she said, "Of course not. You just woke up. Well, Amber's body wasn't there when the committee's team came to clean the place."
"What?" Lyric gasped, turning to face Emily fully. "But we saw her fall."
Emily nodded. "Yes, but her wounds must not have been enough to keep her from healing them, because there was no sign of her."
Lyric remembered Paoli saying the only sure way to kill an immortal was by beheading. But there was no way she could have brought herself to do that. "At least we accomplished what we set out to do."
"We did more than that," Emily said, rolling onto her side and propping her head in her hand. "Our ability to call both species to our aid is very significant in the immortal world. It's sparked the committee's hope we really can find peace, after all."
Lyric remembered the vampire nest and gave a doubtful shake of her head. "I don't know about that. If Michael hadn't had an opening in his floor, we might not be having this conversation now. How can anyone hope to find peace with vampires?"
Emily sat up cross-legged and frowned. "But not all vampires all like that," she said reasonably. "Look at Paoli and Sekhmet."
"I worry they're the exception," Lyric admitted.
Emily sat quietly, as if thinking that over. "Maybe so," she said at last. "But if they're the exception, there must be more like them out there. And Michael has agreed to help in our quest for peace."
"But Michael can't even control his own group. How can he help?" Lyric retorted.
"I'm not sure. I can't see the whole picture yet. Right now, we're just taking this one step at a time," Emily said.
Chapter Forty Five
Paoli heard their voices down the hall. He entered the room silently and leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest in a deliberately relaxed posture. Lyric was sitting at the end of the bed, turned around with her back to him, facing Emily who was lying on her side. Their heads were bent toward one another in a conspiratorial manner. In a way, they seemed almost childlike; like little girls exchanging secrets.
He could hear every word they said perfectly clear, as could any werewolf who might happen to walk past the door and listen, but they didn't seem to realize that. He'd been listening long enough to hear Lyric say he was the exception; well, he and Sekhmet, though he privately disagreed with that. To some extent, at any rate. Sekhmet wasn't as bad as most of the vampires, but he still made it his habit to use humans as prey, which he despised. To give credit where it was due, Sekhmet didn't typically kill his prey, but still. It was taking chances with the lives of others and he couldn't condone it.
Emily finally noticed his presence and gestured toward him with her chin to tell Lyric they were no longer alone. He would have preferred to listen a little longer, since their conversation gave him insights Lyric wasn't normally so open about, but he should have considered that before letting his presence be known. What had happened to all his seductive charm, that he was honestly regretting not eavesdropping more effectively? He'd been sought after and chased by women for centuries; had never failed to bed one who'd caught his eye, which was a matter of great pride since he'd been chasing the fairer sex quite literally for centuries. Yet, when it came to Lyric, he was now listening at keyholes like an untried youth.
He was still disgusted with himself when she turned to him and he found himself lost in the soft, rich brown of her wide eyes. He wasn't sure how long he just stood there, but a slow, sensual smile appeared on his face as—once again—the conversation he'd come to have was wiped out of his mind. "Can we talk privately?" he asked, not even aware of the heat in his gaze until color stained her pretty cheeks.
Lyric glanced at Emily and found her already smiling and waving her away. "We'll talk later," she said.
Back in the room Lyric had started in, Paoli closed the door behind them and leaned against it, watching as she walked across to sit on the only piece of furniture in the room; the bed. There was a strangely awkward tension between them, as if neither of them knew what to say to one another after the events of the previous night.
"How are you feeling?" he finally broke the silence.
"I'll be all right. Sorry I fainted. Again," she said with a slightly embarrassed grimace.
Paoli noticed her embarrassment and a wave of guilt crashed over him. "You didn't faint this time," he said sternly. "You lost consciousness from blood loss, which is a very different thing." Then, with an almost angry look, he added, "You took a terrible risk."
Lyric looked at him; really looked at him. She could see the pain in his eyes; the remorse and regret, and she couldn't bear the realization he was eating himself up over what had happened. It wasn't as if she hadn't known the risk from the start. She'd gone into the situation with her eyes wide open and didn't blame him in the least. "It was my risk to take," she told him earnestly.
"Never take that risk again," he said, holding her gaze.
Lyric scoffed at his serious tone and looked away to stare at the wall, unwilling to have a confrontation with him now. Too much had happened that she still wasn't sure how she felt about, and she didn't want to make things any more weird between them.
Paoli continued to regard her silently from his spot against the door. "We need to talk about our connection," he finally said, drawing her attention again.
"What about it?" she asked warily.
"There are a lot of things I'm not sure you understand. Considering what's happened, I think you should have a detailed explanation," he said reasonably. "I could have completed it the night I found you. But I didn't because..." he groaned and turned his eyes heavenward. "Because I'd never actually taken blood directly from a person and I wasn't sure how I'd react," he said quickly and without looking at her; as if he'd just admitted a great shame.
"I appreciate your consideration," she told him, fighting to keep from smiling at his reaction to something most people would consider a positive trait.
He took a deep breath and blew it out, bringing his gaze back to her. "The problem was, that connected you to me, but it didn't connect me back to you." When she frowned in confusion, he went on to explain, "It saved your life, but made it difficult for me to track you because it caused the connection to be sort of watered down. Last night, you changed that."
From his tone and demeanor, she wasn't sure if he thought it was a good thing or not, so she made no reply. She'd never seen him so reserved, and she wasn't sure what to make of it.
"You've heard the term 'immortal human'. What that means is, barring injury or
accident, you will live as long as I do, especially now that the connection has been completed fully," he went on.
A new worry started creeping up on her. "Are you saying I'm going to turn into a vampire?" she demanded.
"What? No," he said quickly. "You'll remain human. But remember when I told you our fates are now connected, and that the Fates themselves consider us a single life force?"
She nodded slowly; almost suspiciously. If she grew fangs and started preying on babies, she'd kill him herself.
"Well," he went on, "what I meant by that is things like time and disease no longer have any effect on you. You won't age any further, in other words. That's what the term 'immortal human' means. You'll live as long as I do, be that one more day or the next thousand years."
Lyric couldn't even wrap her head around the idea of living for a thousand years. It was an unattainable concept that her mind simply couldn't grasp. Living outside of a normal life expectancy wasn't something she'd ever considered. It would take time for her to ponder what that really meant, but it made her wonder about something else. "How old are you, Paoli?"
The question made him hesitate, probably because it seemed unrelated. "I'm old," he said simply.
She scowled at his non-answer, but didn't press any further.
"Now that our connection is complete, we'll be able to feel one another easier," he went on. "The downside is, like yesterday, if one of us suffers a significant injury, it can affect the other one."
Lyric remembered Emily's face; white and strained, as she'd fed him her energy. "Does that mean I'll be able to give you energy if you need it, like Emily did?"
"On a smaller scale, yes. Emily can draw the energy from everyone in the pack because we're all connected through William. In the case of you and I, we'll be able to do the same, but only from our own energy."
"How will it work during the day, when you're asleep?" Lyric wanted to know, thinking about the day she couldn't reach him when werewolves were after her. Damn, had that only been two days ago?
Paoli's eyes became hooded. "I don't know," he admitted. "Which is why I suggested you sleep when I do."
At the reminder, Lyric's eyes instantly narrowed.
Paoli held up a placating hand. "I know," he said. "It might not have been the best idea I've ever had. It's just that the idea of you, alone and unprotected isn't easy for me. It's my job to keep you safe."
She met his eyes levelly. "It's my job to keep me safe," she insisted. "These days, women are pretty self-sufficient, you know? We don't just sit around in corsets fainting at things." She hesitated a little uncomfortably. "Not usually, anyway," she amended on a mumble.
Paoli crossed the room to stand in front of her; his eyes intense and looking right into hers. He put a single finger under her chin and lifted her face to his.
Chapter Forty Six
"You risked your life for me," he said firmly, holding her soft brown eyes with his own bright blue ones; determined to make her understand the significance of her actions. "Which means when it came right down to it, you chose me."
Lyric couldn't look away from the intensity in his gaze. Her mouth felt suddenly dry.
"Try to have patience with me. This is all new for me, as well. We'll both have to make some compromises here, but I'm confident we'll find common ground. Eventually," he said the last with a slight twitch to his lips, which Lyric couldn't help returning. "All right?"
"All right," she managed to croak just before the she noticed the heat in Paoli's eyes and his lips covered hers in a kiss so full of hunger, she could do nothing but wrap her arms around his neck and hold on.
The kiss was long and lingering. It started with a spark of answering desire and slowly building into an inferno of need. She went from merely having her arms around him to clutching at him, pulling him closer. He took the hint quickly and pressed her back onto the mattress while kneeling over her, continuing to keep her mind drugged with his mouth as his hands began roving over body, brushing feather-light along the curve of her neck and lower.
Paoli pulled away long enough to strip her shirt and return to her, his mouth moving over her face and neck, then lower to brush the swell of her breast. Her gasp of pleasure acted like a stimulant to his own need, urging him on. He wanted to be inside her; to find his pleasure and relief, but he was determined to take his time, instead. So, he held his own desire in check and continued to explore her body with his hands and mouth; tasting her, drinking in her every groan, every soft cry like it was an answer to the call of his own soul.
Lyric tugged at his shirt, determined to feel the heat of his skin against her. He raised up in answer and stripped it off, throwing it carelessly across the room. Before he returned to her, however, her fingers brushed against the pressing bulge in his jeans, making his precarious hold on control very difficult to maintain. He watched her fingers as she caressed him through the material, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight.
"Let me touch you," she whispered throatily, pulling the button loose and freeing him from the constraint of the material.
Paoli moaned at the feel of her hands on him; so soft and delicate. She easily found the perfect rhythm and her touch was everything he'd ever hoped and more. He clenched his teeth, determined not to allow himself to lose control this time. In the end, it was the wicked smile she flashed that was his undoing; like she knew exactly what she was doing to him and reveled in it.
His intention to make slow, sweet love to her was wiped away. He was much too close to fulfillment for that. With a growl, he knocked her hands away and continued stripping them both with indecent haste that had her gasping in surprise when he jerked her jeans off unexpectedly. He sent them sailing away and kissed her belly, dipping his tongue into her navel on his way lower.
Lyric cried aloud at the feel of his mouth on her and buried her hands in his hair, unknowingly holding him to her. His deep chuckle vibrated along her thighs, making her realize she'd wrapped her legs around his torso. She was gasping and panting when he pulled away with a muttered, "You're not having it without me," and entered her swiftly, burying himself to the hilt. His hands slid under her to lift her hips for better access, which drove him even more deeply inside her. It took only a single thrust for Lyric to cry out with pleasure, her every muscle seemingly alive and pulsing with a mind-shattering fulfillment that left her breathless and spent.
When her mind became aware of anything again, it was the steady beat of Paoli's heart beneath her ear and his hand caressing her bare back. He pulled her tighter to him and kissed her forehead with such tenderness it almost made her heart ache.
"I'm sorry that was so quick," he said contritely. "You drive me wild, woman."
Lyric gave him a satisfied smile. "You don't hear me complaining, do you?"
"Not aloud, but I know how women are," he said in mock-seriousness. "I can't have you going to Emily with news I'm slipping in the bedroom. Sekhmet would never let me live it down if he caught wind of it."
She laughed aloud at that. "I'll keep it in mind," she promised.
"I don't think I ever properly thanked you," he said, all traces of humor gone from his demeanor. "You and Emily really saved us all yesterday, you know?"
Lyric looked up at him. She saw the seriousness in his face and realized how much it had to chafe them all to be saved by the women. "I know," she said lightly. "And you're welcome." She kissed his chin. "Just don't make a habit of it."
"Paoli," William's voice called impatiently, followed by pounding on the door. "Get out here."
Paoli gave her a final squeeze and a deep sigh. "Come on, love," he said, rolling off the bed to pull on his jeans and shirt as he strode to the door. He glanced back to assure himself she was properly clothed and found her already hopping on one foot while she pulled her shoes on. He had a stab of regret that things couldn't have been different. In an ideal world, they would have been in a bedroom with no windows where they could lay in bed for hours making love and whispering promis
es for the future. In reality, they were in the middle of a war with constant danger and demands, and every minute they managed to steal was precious and rare.
Still, Lyric never complained. She accepted the insanity that was his existence, just as she'd accepted him so long ago. While he had no idea where his life was headed, he was damned proud to have her along for the ride. "What?" he asked tersely when he opened the door to find William standing there with his hand raised, prepared to start banging again.
William glanced first at him, then over his head at Lyric. "Sorry to interrupt," he offered. "But our meeting with Jonathon is concluded and we need to have a pack meeting."
"Are we meeting in your room?" Paoli asked.
"Yes," William confirmed. "Everyone's there now except the two of you."
Paoli gave a short nod of understanding. "We'll be right over," he said. He closed the door quietly behind William just as Lyric approached him. He spun her against the wall so suddenly, she let out a squeak of surprise which he quickly stifled when his lips closed over hers.
He continued to kiss her until they were both quite breathless. "You don't even know what you do to me," he whispered huskily. "There are so many things I want to do to you," he murmured, brushing his lips over hers again, though lightly this time. "I swear, there will come a day when we can spend entire nights pleasuring each other. Until then," he didn't finish the sentence, instead pressing his thigh between hers to give her the most wonderful friction. "I just wanted to give you something to look forward to."
When he stepped away, Lyric's knees were shaky and Paoli was grinning. "That was just mean," she told him, her voice husky and thick.
His grin widened and he held his arm out. "Shall we?'
Chapter Forty Seven
When they entered the room across the hall, it was to find the entire flock waiting for them, plus Michael and Jonathon. Everyone was wearing an expression of such seriousness, Lyric was momentarily taken aback. She looked from one person to the next, trying to determine the cause of the solemn atmosphere.
