by Tina Donahue
Not the answer he’d wanted. Pushing aside disappointment, he stood and grasped her wrist to keep her from fleeing, possibly disappearing forever. He’d had enough of that shit with the vamp who’d turned him. “Hold on.” He made certain to keep his voice calm and his grip light rather than hurtful, even stroking her thumb for good measure. “Please.”
“I don’t think so.” She twisted her arm.
He used more pressure, but took care. Since being turned, his strength had increased a thousandfold. He hadn’t realized his new physical prowess until he’d merely opened his apartment door one morning and managed to rip the thing off its hinges. “Forget what I said, okay? I was just asking. No obligation. No reason to run.”
“Are you serious?” She approached faster than he would have expected and got in his face. “You want to use me.” She pushed to her toes to make herself taller. They still weren’t on eye level. Giving him a murderous look, she jammed her forefinger into his chest. “You want to drain me dry.”
“No—never.” Doing so would defeat his purpose. She’d be turned, then they’d both have to search for new hosts to keep them in plasma. “Just a taste. No more than a mouthful.” He risked rubbing her thumb. “You wouldn’t even miss it, I swear.”
She clenched her jaw. “Easy for you to say. Where’d you learn to sweet talk? Did Rocco teach you?”
The pretty server rushed up, carrying new drinks for other patrons, threw him and Wren a glance, then hurried past, disappearing into the smoky room. Everyone surrounding them talked, laughed, boozed, and had a good time, not noticing their argument. Even the bouncer was oblivious, tapping his foot in time to the booming music. Maybe he was the Rocco she’d mentioned.
Roman inclined his head to the man. “You mean him? No. We’ve never spoken.”
“I’m talking about Rocco from Blue Creek. Before he died.”
She was full of surprises. “You killed him?”
“No.” She tugged her arm but couldn’t free herself and growled. “He tried to kidnap me, as he’d done with other young women, to sell as a blood slave to these vamps he knew. What a prick. He also said I wouldn’t miss a few drops. Like he wouldn’t have missed his balls if I’d had a chance to slice them off?”
Roman took care not to anger her too much. As a witch, she might be able to seriously harm him, which gave him another thought.
“Let. Go.” She bounced in place. “I mean it.”
He didn’t want to and wouldn’t. She was the first good thing in his life since he’d turned immortal. Her kiss had been paradise. Her initial concern for him better than anything he’d known. “If I don’t, will you promise to strike me dead?” His hopes soared. “Can you do that?”
She leaned away. “No. Even if I could, I wouldn’t. I’m not a murderer.”
“Technically, I’m not really alive, so I’m sure the cops wouldn’t mind. You’d never face a trial. Go on.” He held out his other arm, leaving himself vulnerable to whatever she wanted to do. “Let me have it. End my misery.”
Her anger collapsed. She searched his face.
He wasn’t certain what she was looking for but didn’t particularly like this much emotional intimacy. “What?”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“What?”
She waved her free hand. “Never mind. You’re a guy. It comes with the territory.”
“What does? Tell me, please.”
Another female server hooked up with a demon, jumping into his arms. He staggered back from her weight and bumped into a table. The thing skidded toward Roman and Wren.
He eased her away before she got hurt. “You okay?”
She slumped. “No. I hoped you were different.”
Agreeing with her at this point might be his wisest choice even though he hadn’t a clue what she was talking about. He wished she’d share complete thoughts rather than partial ones as she’d been doing. “You mean more different than needing AB positive blood, rather than—”
“No. Kissing me because you honestly wanted to. Liking me because you did, rather than pretending you felt that way to drain me—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you talking about?” He couldn’t believe she’d doubted his passion. Even when he’d been human, he hadn’t enjoyed a woman more than he had her. “My reaction to you was pure desire, nothing else. While you were stripping, I would have asked you for a date as the other guys did, but I couldn’t get my mouth to work. The moment you stepped on stage, all my spit dried up. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Any man who’d had a different reaction would have to have been dead.”
“Like you?”
He’d never been good at serious conversations with women. The only time he shone was between the sheets. He’d wished they were in bed now, playing rather than verbally sparring. This wasn’t a battle he could win. “Point taken.” He released her wrist and cupped her face. “You were really nice when you first came to my table. Think we could go back to those moments and start over?”
She crossed her arms. “I was worried about you then. I thought we were kindred souls, both hating eternity. Now, you’re trying to use me for—”
“I’m not.” He tilted her face so she had to look at him.
Took her a moment before she stopped glancing past. “What?”
“You don’t like being immortal either? Why? You’re a witch. You can fix crappy stuff with spells, potions, and whatnot. No reason to suffer or endure. Sounds beyond awesome to me.”
“It was. For five seconds. Ever get everything you ever wanted without having to work for it?”
“I was a natural at math and card counting. Not that I’m bragging.”
She struggled to kill her smile. “Multiply your talents by everything in the universe. You want it, it’s yours. Nothing is out of reach or impossible, including beauty, wealth, position, power, all the world has to offer. Not because you deserve those things, but because you took them or rather conjured them. Sweet, huh? Until you meet someone who strove for years, possibly decades, to attain a goal. They understand how precious their reward is, while you haven’t a clue. It’s just stuff. It’s not respect earned by being a good person or love deserved because you cared for someone who feels the same for you. But who gives a crap about that right? This is the Amazon age where we order up whatever we want and get it. Easy. No sweat. No emotions. Simply endless indulgence.”
He might have been thick as far as feelings were concerned, but he got what she was saying. “I had no idea living was so hard for a witch.”
“Most humans don’t. Hell, many paras don’t either. That’s why I thought you were different.”
“I am.” He kissed her fingertips. “I shouldn’t have asked what I did, okay? My only excuse is I’m reaching a point where desperation is my last recourse. I won’t turn anyone. Ever. I’d prefer to suffer, and, trust me, I loathe doing so. But what else is there? I’ve tried to off myself numerous times. Nothing freaking works.”
She pressed her hand to her chest. “You actually tried to hurt yourself?”
“’Scuse me.” His first waitress sidled past, her tray laden with drinks. The wolf shifter she’d been with was gone.
Roman eased Wren back to his table. “Let’s get comfortable, all right?”
She sank into his chair.
He would have preferred she’d chosen his lap to sit on, but was grateful she hadn’t bolted. After snagging a chair from another table, he plopped into it. “You want something to drink?”
“I’d like an answer.” She rested her hand on his knee. “What did you do to yourself?”
Nothing that made him feel as good as having her touch him again. Her warmth seeped into his leg, sped to his balls and cock, then whisked to other parts, thrilling yet also relaxing him. “Remember when I said I couldn’t shift into a bat and fly?”
“Because the vamp who turned you couldn’t shift either.”
“Right. Since I’m new at this, I wasn’t sure how morphin
g into an animal worked. I tried to will myself to do so, but nothing happened. I flapped my arms, hoping for the best, but— Are you laughing at me?”
She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. The picture you created when you said you flapped your arms…” She giggled.
The sound thrilled him as few things could. Seeing her smile and making her happy was better than owning every fortune in the world. He got what she’d said about respect and love being the truly important things in life, especially if they’d been earned. With her, he wanted to go for the gold and succeed. She was one in a zillion even if she’d never be his blood slave. He’d cut out his tongue before suggesting such a thing again. “You’re right. Me trying to fly wasn’t pretty or effective. So, I had another idea.”
“You asked Aria how it’s done?”
“I didn’t know about her then. Does she morph?”
Wren lifted her shoulders.
“Just as well. Anyway, I thought maybe the change took place during flight and chose the highest building in Vegas—”
“Oh my God, the Stratosphere Tower?”
“Technically, it’s not a building since it’s not fully inhabitable. I’m talking about the Fontainebleau Resort.”
“Still tall.”
She had that right. “Since I am able to move quickly, like the vamp who turned me, I managed to streak past security to get to the roof. My guess is, all they saw was a blur as I ran past. Once I was on the top, I stood at the edge, threw out my arms, and dove over the side.”
“Gawd.” She covered her face. “Don’t tell me what happened. I don’t want to know.”
She was so adorable when she worried about him, he couldn’t help but tease. “I sank like a brick and landed on my head.”
“Ew.” She waved her hands. “That’s too awful. How long did you have to wait to heal or whatever it is you do?”
“Seconds.” At the time, he’d been too amazed to realize what the reaction meant. He couldn’t end his misery, no matter what he did.
“I hope you didn’t try such an awful thing again.”
“Naw. One time doing that was enough for me. After my changing into a bat failed, I watched every vampire film I could to find out what worked to off myself. Staking won out. Hey, piercing Dracula’s heart finished him off, why not me?”
She paled. “Please tell me you didn’t…”
“Sorry, I’m desperate. I tried stakes made from wood, silver, gold, iron, and every other material imaginable. The damn things didn’t even leave a scar.” He lifted his tee. His skin was tan and smooth, no marks from impaling himself.
Wren touched his abs.
Too much pleasure and warmth glided through him. He trembled.
She stroked his pecs.
Even his teeth tingled. He leaned into her touch.
Her features grew distracted and dreamy. She thumbed his nipples, paused, then pulled back her hand. “There’s not a scratch on you. I don’t understand.”
He didn’t either, unable to figure out why she’d stopped touching him. Unless she’d finally realized what she was doing. He lowered his tee. “Did you expect there to be scars?”
“Sure.” She gestured to his neck. “Like the ones the vamp left on you.”
“Maybe doing it to myself doesn’t have the same effect. Like I said, this is my first go around at being a vampire. When staking myself didn’t work, I drove my Harley into a brick wall at high speed.”
She covered her eyes.
“Didn’t do my cycle any good. Had to buy a new one. Afterwards, I read vampire novels nonstop. Most sucked. The romances were the worst. When I pick up a book, I expect blood and gore not guys making flowery speeches. Since I figured I wouldn’t get any usable information in the stories, I googled vampire history to see what the people way back when did when they’d destroyed one. The info was fascinating.”
Her moan filtered through the din from the music and patrons.
He rubbed his mouth to suppress a smile. “Would you rather I not tell you?”
“Will it make a difference if I do?”
Aw, she was really worried about him, which made him more mischievous. “The solutions I read up on didn’t make a dent in my vitality or supersized strength. I can still pulverize any damn thing even after I drove steel and iron needles into my heart, poured boiling water then oil over myself, consumed garlic—like I said, I like how it tastes, even more than when I was human—shoved a brick into my mouth, and a lemon, took a buzz saw to my throat to try to decapitate—”
“Stop it. Just stop.” She crawled onto his lap and buried her face in his neck. “I don’t want to hear any more. I don’t want you hurting yourself.”
He hadn’t come close and wasn’t sorry for having teased her. Whatever he had to do to get her back into his arms was okay by him. “I didn’t. That’s what I’m saying.” He stroked her back and buried his face in her hair. Damn, she smelled fine. “Nothing I do works. I’m fucked.”
“Wrong.” She lifted her face. “You said you forgot your bloodlust while we were kissing. We’ll do that.” She captured his mouth and drove her tongue inside.
The room spun. His world changed. She was softness, warmth, and goodness he couldn’t resist and needed as much as blood. Possibly more. Taking command, he grasped her head and angled his mouth for greater penetration then eased her tongue from him and filled her instead.
She whimpered.
A glorious sound.
He pulled her tight against him, using more strength than he’d intended, but wouldn’t stop unless she squealed or squirmed. He had to be close. If he could have crawled inside her soul and become one with her, he would have done so in an instant and begged her to let him stay.
They were kindred spirits, exactly as she’d said, both struggling with existence. Maybe together they could find a solution to enrich their endless lives and give them a reason to go on.
She gripped his hair, keeping him to her.
He didn’t want to be anywhere else and kissed her hard.
A moan spilled from her, the noise confirming her delight.
They cuddled and explored, using their mouths and hands. She cradled his balls, making him tremble from outrageous delight. He cupped her breast.
Their kiss grew torrid then tender. Back and forth they went, not settling on lust or affection for long. Needing both equally.
He’d never been happier, his craving for blood subdued by passion, his future looking bright.
Cold air swept past.
The air-conditioning, finally. Thank God. Even when he’d been human, he’d never been hotter, but loved it. He dove in for more, deepening his kiss.
She stroked his cock and sucked his tongue.
That’s my girl.
She had to be. He wouldn’t allow any other conclusion. To never see her again… No, he wouldn’t go there. The thought was too awful to consider.
More air poured down then circled them and lingered, growing chillier by the second.
Wren shivered.
He pulled his mouth free and lifted his face. Weird. The vents were above other tables, not his. So where in the fuck was the arctic blast coming from?
Her teeth chattered.
“Here.” He eased her as close as he could and rubbed her arms, trying to warm them. “Better?”
“No. Cold-d-d-d.”
No shit. Her voice trembled, and her teeth clacked.
Perspiration dotted the faces of the nearby patrons. Each looked hot and sweaty.
Roman twisted to the left.
A tall man stood several yards away, his hair dark and slicked back, cheeks hollowed, which accentuated his gauntness. Despite tonight’s heat, he wore a long-sleeve black shirt and pants.
Roman had never seen a reaper before, wasn’t certain they even existed. However, if they did, this guy looked like one should. And might be here to take someone to the great beyond.
An hour ago, the notion would have thrilled him. He would have
fought the others to be first in line to end his existence. Now though, he’d met Wren. They needed time to explore who they were, what they wanted, how they fit into each other’s world.
Dammit, he couldn’t leave or lose her, the only person who mattered to him. He wouldn’t.
He held her close.
She trembled worse than before and stared at the creepy guy, recognition on her face.
Not a good thing. Roman pressed his mouth to her ear. “You know him?”
“Unfortunately.”
“How? You haven’t wanted to off yourself, too, have you?”
“What?” She made a face. “No.”
“Then how do you know a reaper?”
The man stepped closer. The temperature dropped several degrees.
She clutched Roman’s shirt. “He’s not a reaper, though he could be, right? I mean, he is ugly enough, outside and in. He’s Dimitri Xanthos.”
The name didn’t ring a bell. “Is he famous for something?”
“More like infamous. He’s a warlock and fucking powerful. Dark magic’s his thing.”
No surprise since warlocks were part demon. Roman had learned as much from a TV show he’d watched and a vampire book he’d read. “Why is he staring like he’s really into you? Did you two used to date?”
She made a gagging noise. “God, no. Never. You better split.”
“And leave you here with him?” Not a chance. He held her tighter. “I’m not taking off without you.”
“If you value what existence you have, you better.”
Dimitri advanced another step. Those paras surrounding him edged away, concern on their faces.
Roman should have been scared but wasn’t. “What can he do to me that hasn’t already been done? Wait. He can’t kill me, can he?”
She slapped his chest. “Will you quit trying to off yourself? No. He can’t. At least, as far as I know, but I’m no expert. He can do other things though.”
“Unless it’s making me crave more blood, I’m good.”
“You’ll be toast if you stay.” She squirmed, trying to leave his lap.
He wouldn’t let her.
She met his eyes, hers pleading. “Go. Please. Before things get nasty.”
His insides churned. “Why would they? What is this goon to you?”
