by Angel Lawson
She ran a hand over my shoulder and asked, “You’re really willing to risk everything for her?”
“I am, but I’d rather not have to.”
“As a representative of The Council there is no way I can let you walk in there on a social visit. We’ll end up in the middle of a shifter-vamp war and your serial killer will have the run of the place. Not to mention the problem of exposing your human to two secret cultures she shouldn’t even know exists.”
“I have a plan, but you need to back me on it. I’ll make it happen and I promise there won’t be trouble afterwards. You’ll just have to run interference with Miles, because he won’t like it.”
“Why do you think I carry such weight with Miles?” she asked, her lips curved upward.
“Am I to assume you’ve found another partner to fulfill your needs? Maybe one of the twins?” The idea was laughable and she bit down on her lip at the suggestion. No, Genevieve was attracted to power. Only two members of our coven possessed the attributes she found desirable.
“So you have a plan then?” she asked. I nodded. “Explain it to me and I’ll see what I can do.”
I sat down on the rock and gestured for her to follow. Her eyes carried a look of suspicion when she sat next to me, but I knew I had her attention. Now I just had to convince her or she would be right—I’d find myself in the middle of a war I couldn’t win.
Chapter 14
Amelia
"A meat thermometer?" I asked, unwrapping the next item from the pile that lay out on the counter in front of me.
Grant's head was inside a large brown box on the kitchen floor and I heard him reply with a muffled, "Sure, why not?"
"Because I don't eat meat?" I said, frowning at the stainless steel, digital thermometer in my hand.
He lifted his head out of the box and rested his hands on the edges, his forearms bare and taut. He had a piece of packing foam nestled in his thick, bushy hair. "True. Isn't it funny that you don't eat animals, but I do?"
"Hysterical. But neither of us needs a meat thermometer," I said, placing it with the other returns on the counter.
Earlier that day, I had been at my desk when the doorbell rang. Grant beat me to the door, quickly signing for several packages and bringing them past me into the kitchen. The look on his face was full-on excitement and I spotted a trace of pride as he carried the largest box through my office.
Before I even stood up, I could hear him ripping into the boxes, sliding his sharp nails through the packing tape like a razor. By the time I reached the kitchen he’d started unpacking.
"Can I ask what all this is?" I asked, once I pulled my eyes from his quick moving hands and located the appropriate words.
He stopped briefly and smiled sheepishly. "It's for you. Kitchen supplies. Now that you live here you should have some tools to help you cook. And some food…we’ll go to the market next."
A grin spread across my face. His gesture was impossibly sweet. He was impossibly sweet. I walked over to him and stopped his hands from removing the wrapped objects from inside the box.
"Thank you," I said and slid my hand around his waist. I looked at him, waiting for approval, which he gave in a minute nod, before pushing up on my toes. My lips found his, soft and perfect, and I kissed him gratefully.
He kissed me back and when we parted, his tongue darted in my mouth one final time, revving my heart like an engine. This had become a pattern. His kisses made me hungry, deliriously so. Grant was convinced it was his vampire charms. I let him believe that but I knew it wasn't true. It was simply him and his touches that captivated me. He owned me body, mind, and soul.
I forced myself back to sorting, but found myself watching him instead. He was so relaxed, happy. His face had always been smooth and perfect, but before there had been an underlying anger and sadness. Since we’d moved forward, that tension had washed away.
Grant busied himself separating utensils, measuring spoons, and chopsticks ("For the Thai!" he exclaimed with glee). He was glorious and safe. He was exciting and carried the enthusiasm of a child. I felt a pull to Grant like I’d never experienced before. And as much as I was content working side by side with him, there were still questions I had and answers I needed.
But I wasn't sure how to approach it. Not exactly. Grant was from another time. He was polite and reserved. I needed to know our limitations personally and realistically. I needed to know the dangers and if he wanted me as much as I wanted him.
An hour later, I was still working on how to ask him when I realized most of the boxes were unpacked. Grant was holding a circular pizza cutter in his hand, spinning the sharp wheel, round and round, letting the edge slice across his finger.
"This is amazing," he said, totally fascinated by the spinning knife. "So you put it on your bread and it rolls across in a straight line. No breaks." I nodded trying to keep the amused expression off my face. For someone who knew so much and had experienced so many things, he could be utterly clueless.
I winced as he rolled the cutter down his arm, a faint line appearing for a second but healing immediately. "So your skin just heals?" I asked.
"Yes, see…" And he took a pairing knife out of the block and ran it down his cheek. Instead of a thick stream of blood, there was a pinkish line that quickly vanished. "And I have to press really hard for it to do that."
I walked over and reached my hand up. He lowered his head and turned his cheek so I could feel it. There was no trace of the injury, his skin was as flawless as before. I used my other hand to pluck the foam pieces out of his hair.
"I know you’re immortal but can you be killed? What’s your kryptonite?”
“You,” he said, with a cheeky smile.
“I’m serious.”
“The myths are just that. Myths. Garlic, holy-water, crosses. None of that works. The basics vampire kills include, decapitation, fire, full force assault—“
“Like Jenna?” I shuddered thinking of her body, torn into a million pieces.
He nodded and said, “In the wild we’re the top of the food chain, except with the shifters. They sense us and if we get too close they’ll attack.”
“But theoretically,” I said. “You could live forever.”
"Yes, if you stay out of trouble you can live forever, but that’s…well, a really long time.”
"And you said you can go out in the sun, you just don't go out in the sun, because it makes you weak?" I confirmed.
Grant put the knife in the utensil drawer and finished placing the measuring cup in the cabinet. "It burns a little, especially the more recently you’ve turned. It’s inconvenient enough to keeps us indoors, out of direct sunlight. It's why I often stay home on sunny days and it's why we live in the mountains. The weather can be nice but the winters are long and foggy, damp days are common."
I leaned against the counter, my elbows propped on either side. We had never been outside in the sunlight together before. "Will you show me?”
He looked perplexed. "Really? It’s not that exciting.”
I pushed off the counter. "Please? I want to know everything about you." I tugged on his arm and pulled him toward the back door, the one that took us out to the patio.
It was gloriously sunny outside, so bright it made my eyes hurt for a second due to the glare. I walked past Grant, out into the heat and scowled at him as he hid just inside the door.
"Grant. Come on. It can't be that horrible." I laughed but he still wouldn't budge. "Are you afraid to show me your weakness? We all have them you know.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have any weaknesses.”
“I have a million. I eat too much ice cream and forget to pay my bills sometimes. I don’t call my parents enough and spiders scare me. I have this stupid thing were I keep talking to the wrong person at the bar…”
Okay, that comment didn’t amuse him so I walked back up the short stairway to the door and placed my hand in his. "It's okay. You can show me that you aren’t always perfect. T
hat you’re vulnerable." I gently pushed him down the stairs so he was a step below me, the sun grazed the top of his dark hair, making the tips glow copper. I leaned down and began placing soft kisses on his face, starting with his forehead and working my way down his cheeks, across his nose until I reached his mouth. My fingers gripped the sides of his shirt, near his waist, and I could hear a faint growl under his breath. Speaking against his lips I said, "Close your eyes."
They fluttered closed and I shut my own as I nudged him down one more step, trying to distract him with my mouth and hands.
I could feel the sun beating down on my head and I opened my eyes to find him standing, tall and long, eyes shut, skin turning pink in the sunlight. Although I didn’t exactly know how, I saw the lethargy take over.
“Sit down.” He did as directed and I ran my fingers up his arms, gliding them over his skin. He shuddered under my touch which pleased me. My hands traveled over the fabric of his shirt to his neck where, again, I fingered the skin, manipulating the shadows, reveling in the beauty of this man. Tracing the collar of his shirt, I stopped at the button under his throat and said, "May I?" With eyes shut, he nodded, granting me permission. With confident hands, I unfastened the buttons, painstakingly, one at a time, basking in the glow of his skin as I slowly revealed his chest and then stomach.
Once it was completely unbuttoned, I pushed the material back, over his shoulders, letting it slide down his arms and drop to the ground. His exposed skin, pale and white reddened under the afternoon sun, but didn’t burn. My hands found his abs, chiseled and perfect, and traced the muscles, one by one until I reached his chest.
"Are you kidding me?" I wondered aloud, my eyes drawn to perfection of his body.
"What? Why?" he asked, breaking from the quiet spell he was under.
"You! You’re like a freaking God or something. Carved by Michaelangelo himself.” I walked around him and ran my hands over his sculpted back. It was all I could do not to lick his skin.
"I’m not even sure if I could fight you off right now,” he said nervously.
“Would that be the worst thing?” I stopped my ogling long enough to weave my fingers with his. “To let me take control?”
He swallowed, seeming more interested than I expected, but I wasn’t playing fair, so I led him to a shady area to sit in a soft cushion of a wide wicker chair across the patio. I settled in his lap and pressed my lips to his.
“I don’t know. I’ve never experienced anything like this,” he laughed, weakly. The shade soothed his skin and quickly it returned to its normal coloring.
“At some point you’ll have to trust me. Let me take control.”
“You know that’s hard for me.”
I touched his abs and shifted a bit in his lap. “There’s a lot about you that’s hard, Grant.” His jaw dropped but I saw the hunger return to his eyes.
“Amelia,” he warned in a low voice.
“I’ll behave,” I told him, but didn’t move. I was testing his limits, like the day in his closet with his shoes. The difference was that this time I wanted to be the change he was willing to make. “For now, but you’re going to have to explain some things to me.”
“Like what?”
I gestured to the space between us. “I need to know the vampire facts of life, Mr. Palmer.”
“The facts of life?”
“Birds and the bees. All of that.”
He nodded, but the look on his face was priceless.
Chapter 15
Grant
I reached my hand out and brushed back a sticky, sweaty piece of hair from Amelia's neck. Her face was flushed from the heat and I noticed a bead of sweat rolling down the back of her neck. I drew her to me and pressed my lips against her flesh, tasting her.
We had been sitting on the patio for some time, the sun getting lower, shining only on one corner of the tile floor. Amelia's hands were still attached to my bare chest, like they were affixed with adhesive. Outside, I held onto my composure, but inside, I was a quivering mess. Her hands were so soft, moving over my body with care and tenderness and it coursed with electricity. The closeness was new and exhilarating.
Showing weakness did not come easily for me. Amelia pushed me to my limits again, helping me see that being vulnerable had its merits. Especially when she climbed on my lap and pressed against me. I could handle those merits all day long.
"Grant?" I hummed in response and she continued, “Stop stalling.”
"I’m not stalling," I replied, totally stalling. I ran my nose along the velvet of her ear.
She shivered and I felt a smile next to my chest. "Stop it. I need to know what exactly we can do."
"Do?"
She pressed her sticky forehead into me and her already flushed skin turned redder. I knew what she wanted to know. It was in her heartbeat and the slight tremble of her voice. I could smell the adrenaline in her nerves. The idea that she wanted me was thrilling—arousing—but even those feelings were dampened by the reality of the situation.
"Yeah. I get the feeling there are rules going on here that I don’t exactly understand," she mumbled. The wind blew across the patio cooling our faces. I heard the creaking chains from the hanging flower baskets as they swayed on their hooks off the eaves.
I pulled her chin up towards my face. "You really want to know?"
"Of course. Grant, we aren’t children. I've been in relationships before. I assume you have, too."
I nodded, feeling a twinge of unfounded jealousy at the thought of Amelia with another man. "True, but the men you were involved with were human.”
“And you?” she prompted.
“Ah, no, not human.”
We let that disclosure settle for a moment and she kissed me quickly on the forehead and said, "Then we’re starting on even ground, I guess. Experienced but not knowledgeable in this exact area. We both need to know what is safe and what we’re each comfortable with."
Her eyes were earnest and she had such faith. This talk was hard for me. Not only because I didn't want to disappoint her with the harsh facts, but because men and women from my time didn't discuss things of this nature. The relationships I’d had before didn’t require conversation. But this was her time, not mine, and I knew I needed to adjust. Nervously, I ran my hand down her leg and let my finger graze the pulsing vein near her ankle, allowing the rhythm to build my courage.
"Well, I'm not completely sure of the protocol—in fact what we’re doing here—simply having this conversation is violation of Council policy.”
“So you’re breaking vampire law or something to be with me?”
“Something like that. I’ve never been much of a rule follower.”
“Yes,” she said dryly. “I read your journals, remember?”
“How could I forget?” I sighed. “I’ve never paid much attention to the idea of a vampire and a human involved in this type of relationship. Consensually that is. It’s possible they just didn’t live to tell about it."
She stiffened slightly at this comment, but her hands resumed stroking my chest. I continued, “The limitations, Amelia are more in the ethics of the situation than the logistics. Assuming we’re okay with breaking Council policy, the only remaining danger is me killing you in the process.”
Her heartbeat quickened in my ears and under my finger. Swallowing deeply she said, "Explain what you mean.”
“I mean losing control or using too much force.”
“And you’re afraid of this happening?”
I hold her eye. “It’s a concern, but only because I care for you so deeply.”
She frowned. “Because you care for me, you think you may kill me? I don’t understand.”
“If this was a casual affair and I lost control there would be two options. Kill or transition. The choice would be mine to see through.”
“Transition?” she asked, her pulse had quickened even more.
"Transitioning is the process of changing from a human to a vampire."
“So if that happened, I’d be like you,” she clarified.
Although I could sense her fear, it wasn't enough, which left me with conflicted emotions. “No. You wouldn’t. Because you aren’t a casual affair and those results are not applicable in this situation.”
“How so?”
“Even if you consented, Amelia, any physical relationship between the two of us will be on my terms. If and when I feel ready and I’ve assessed that there is absolutely no chance of me harming you in that way.” She pulled away and I got the sense I’d somehow crossed a line. “What?”
"You’re talking about me like I’m a fragile doll or something.”
I laughed. “But you are fragile and my strength and desires are not to be underestimated.”
She dropped her head back to my chest and squeezed me as tight as her human arms could manage. “I trust you. But don't underestimate me either."
"I won't. Is that all of your questions?" I asked this, but I already knew the answer. "Is there anything else you want to know?"
She made a face. "I don’t think you really answered my question."
I hadn’t, but the answer wasn't what either of us wanted to hear so I didn't want to be the one to break the news to her. I sighed. "We can do whatever we want, but it’s a matter of self-control, Amelia, or my personal lack thereof, that’s all."
“You have more self-control than anyone I’ve ever met, Grant.”
“Not when it comes to you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Especially when it comes to me.”
I caught her hand and kissed it, then moved my lips to her neck and collarbone. “Everything in my life is orchestrated,” I explained. “The only times I didn’t adhere to these methods turned out badly. All it took was one slip and I was off on a bender. It wasn’t pretty and it took years to get my head straight again. That’s the feeling you give me, Amelia. You make me want to break free of my discipline and throw caution to the wind. You’ve got me buying kitchen utensils and wearing sneakers and pushing past a thousand levels of personal comfort.”
