My hips are circling, thrusting up, my own lips parted to allow hot puffs of desperate breath to rush over my lips.
Her fingers snap the elastic of my shorts. Find my panties.
This time, when she touches me, there’s no other thought in the world. Everything slides away as her fingers finally reach the hot spot inside my panties.
She’s slow at first, gentle and exploratory, teasing out new territory a piece at a time. But as my moans intensify and my hips continue to jerk up and down, Rayne finds what she has clearly been searching for and begins to stroke with soft, even motions.
“Fuck…” It’s the most I can manage. Not that it matters, because I don’t think she even heard me.
Long, agonizing moments, Rayne continues her ministrations on my clit, teasing, caressing, flicking, and massaging before easing her hand away.
This time, my moan is disappointment and frustration, answered by a small chuckle from Rayne as she lifts that same hand to her lips.
She licks my slickness away with long, languid laps of her tongue, and my entire body gives an answering throb.
“You taste incredible,” she whispers. “And you smell…even better.”
I have no words for that. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out, so instead I focus on her fingers and the way they slide in and out of her perfect mouth.
I frown. Stiffen.
With a cry, I shove Rayne back from my body, crab-scrambling up the bed until my back slams into the wall.
She tumbles forward, caught off guard by my sudden motion. “What? What’s wrong? What happened?”
My heart is pounding, my chest heaving.
Instead of answering, I fumble to get the shorts off my body, kicking frantically when they catch on my knees. They hit the floor on the far side of the room when I finally manage to get them off, and next I’m staring into my panties.
“I’m bleeding.” The voice doesn’t sound like mine. Not heavy with pleasure like before, but frightened and childlike. I hate it. But I can’t stop.
“There’s blood, I’m bleeding, there’s blood on your hand. Why am I bleeding? What did you do?”
Chapter Two
Rayne gasps and stares again at her fingers. I recognize the exact moment she sees what I did because her eyes widen and her jaw drops. “Oh, no.” Her voice quivers. “No, Danika, I’m so sorry—how could I? I thought my nails were trimmed, and I—” The confused expression gives way to thoughtful consideration. She sniffs, then seems to relax. “Oh, thank goodness.”
“Huh?” My mind stutters.
She lifts her hand for me to see. “Menstrual blood. It’s your period.”
The hammering in my chest eases a tiny amount. “Period?” Why do I sound like a child? “But…”
Rayne nods and continues to lick at her fingers.
My stomach knots. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Don’t worry. I don’t mind a little mess.”
“Mess?” My chest feels tight and thick. Even my throat seems to narrow. “You’re licking my blood off your fingers, Rayne, what the actual fuck? And how do you know it’s my period? I haven’t had one in almost six years.”
She pauses, mid-lick. “What?”
“SPEAR drugs screw up your cycle. It’s something Mum always got pissed about because it meant I couldn’t have kids. So why would I suddenly have one now?”
“I don’t know, I—” Her eyes narrow. “Wait. Are you asking if I cut you?”
“I—no. Of course not.”
“You think I did it. You think I scratched you on purpose.” Rayne shoves off from the bed and stands, arms crossed, in the centre of the room. “How can you think that of me?” Her voice is high and shrill. Shock fills her eyes.
“Come on, Rayne—”
“No. What kind of monster do you think I am?”
“I think you’re a fucking vampire.” As soon as I say them, I want the words back.
Rayne turns her head aside. “The truth at last. So is this why you won’t let me touch you? Even after so long? Do you truly believe I could bring myself to harm you?”
“No.”
The fullness of her lips compresses into a tight, thin line. “I don’t believe you.”
“Rayne—”
“Just stop.” She drags her hands back through her hair, mussing up her pixie cut the way I’ve always enjoyed doing. “Danika, I want you so much. I want the feel of your body beneath mine, my skin against yours. I want to hear those moans you make when I bring you pleasure. But that’s all I want. I get my blood supplies from Clear Blood just like everybody else. I even drank before you woke just to be sure I was safe. All I want is time for us.” Her gaze lowers. “I’ve hardly seen you in days. You barely let me touch you. You say you want me, but—”
“I do.”
A sad shake of her head. “I’m not so sure. And I don’t think you are either.”
“I freaked out, that’s all. I’m sorry, I just—it was unexpected. Even you have to admit it’s weird for me to drop a period out of the blue, right?”
Silence.
“I-I know you won’t hurt me. I know that. And I’m sorry. Please? I want you, too. Come on. We have time before I have to go…why not pick up where you left off?”
“Danika—”
“I’m half naked, Rayne. You tore my clothes off, remember? Just like you promised you would.”
She looks at me. I dare to step forward and wriggle my lopsided panties off the rest of the way. They drop to the ground and I watch as Rayne’s gaze follows them.
The tightness in my chest intensifies.
“Give me your panties.”
It takes longer than it should for me to process the order. But I do, hooking them on the edge of my toe and flicking them upward.
Rayne snatches the flimsy cotton out of the air and spreads it across her fingers. I cringe at her intense scrutiny, hoping the last household wash cycle did its job well enough.
She stares for the longest time, and a flurry of emotions pass through her eyes. Most of them are gone too fast for me to read, but I know she sees more in my panties than I ever have.
“I have no interest in this blood, Danika.” At last, Rayne finishes her inspection of my underwear and flings them over her shoulder. “I don’t want your blood. I want you.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“Then have me. Please, Rayne.”
Her next step forward is the slow, graceful glide of a predator. I see the instinct in her eyes, the power in her motions. With two long steps she is in front of me again, staring hard into my eyes before slowly sinking to her knees.
My legs are shaking. I can’t stop them. I can’t control my breathing. I can’t do anything except watch as she gently parts my thighs with a commanding tap of her fingertips.
I feel her breath on me, that cool gust against my most private and intimate of body parts.
I freeze.
She growls and whirls away. An instant later, she’s across the room and riffling in my drawers to yank out a T-shirt.
I’m too slow to duck her overhand throw at my face, and the bra, when it comes, hits me too.
“Get dressed, Danika.” Rayne’s voice is hard, clipped, and heavy as thunder. “You’ll be late for work.” She stalks toward the door.
“Wait. Please?”
She does, but only for an instant. Long enough to look back and pin me with a cold, withering glare. “Why? Clearly I’m not safe to be around.” With that, she’s gone, the door clicking softly behind her.
* * *
I’m still standing there two minutes later, naked, cold, and confused.
No. Not confused. Not confused at all.
As my body begins to shake and my hands curl into fists, I realize that I’m angry.
Once I recognize the feeling, it begins to grow, a hot, prickling tension across my back and shoulders. I shove my legs into a pair of jeans and drag that thrown T-shirt over my head.
Then I’m after her
The door to Rayne’s room is closed when I reach it. The number pad outside it glows with a faint green light, one I know will switch to red when the sun rises.
As if in reminder, my watch starts beeping, a subtle two-tone warning of the impending dawn.
I stop it, breathe deep, and raise my hand.
No. Actually, I’m too angry to knock. Instead I throw my whole weight against the heavy door, nodding at the satisfying crash as it flies inward and hits the adjoining wall.
Rayne stands in the centre of her room, part-way into sliding her blouse onto a wire hanger. She offers me the smallest of glances before buttoning the blouse and hanging it up. Then starting on her jeans.
“What the hell, Rayne?”
Hmm. Not the way I intended to start this conversation, but maybe anger has the better of me. Maybe.
“You’ll be late for work,” she says, now hanging her jeans over the back of her desk chair.
“I don’t care. We need to talk.”
She rests her hands on her hips, standing there defiant and beautiful in a light vest and panties. Both white.
Fuck.
“I don’t think there’s much to discuss. You made your feelings abundantly clear.”
“Stop it. You caught me off guard, what did you want me to do?”
“I want you to trust me.” A silver flare lights her eyes. “I want you to look at me and know you’re safe. I want you to know that you never have anything to fear from me.”
“I do—”
“You don’t. You’re holding back. Like you always do. You’re afraid to let me in and it’s not just because I’m a vampire. This is so like you, you always do this.” Rayne’s words trail off into a growl of frustration. “Why? Why won’t you give me a chance to show you I’m trustworthy?”
“We live together.”
“We share a house. That’s not the same. I’m relegated to this cell, day after day, trapped and alone. You can hardly bear to let me lie beside you at night unless we’re clothed.”
I wince. “Th-that’s not true. Besides, you know it’s safer for you in here.”
She lifts her hands skyward. “This entire house is vampire-safe. I’m the one who planned and supervised the modifications.”
“But—”
“But nothing. After everything we’ve been through, the matter should be simple.” She keeps folding, now balling her socks and underhanding them into the wash basket. Then the vest. Bra. Panties.
My breathing hitches.
“Rayne—”
“Perhaps if I were a werewolf it would be different.” Rayne pulls back the covers on her bed and slips between them. She sits against the headboard with the sheet up to her shoulders, voice soft, expression neutral as she looks my way. “I always thought it was interesting how well you and Wendy enjoy each other’s company, and of course there’s Link and Norma. Even the rest of Kappa. Perhaps I’m simply not the right edane for you, even if you do have a taste for us.”
“What the fu—”
Rayne gasps, back bowing, eyes rolling, body stiffening like a sheet of plyboard. A second later, with a heavy gush of expelled breath, her body slumps bonelessly across the sheets.
Sunrise.
* * *
At least showers are quick and uncomplicated. I stand in ours, head lowered, allowing the hot spray to hammer my neck and back. It feels good, and here, alone, I can allow myself to think.
Not that it does much good. My mind chases thoughts in impotent circles while I clench and unclench my fingers against the clean white tile.
Once again I allow my memory to pull back the conversation with Rayne, that last parting shot she knew I’d be unable to respond to.
The wrong type of edane?
Did she really mean that?
Bad enough my mother won’t speak to me over the gender identity of my dating choices, but now my girlfriend is questioning my species preference too?
“Dan? Dan-dan-dan-son. Kar-Karson?”
My eyes pop open.
Outside the shower, a scaly face presses up to the glass, curved beak above small black eyes like glittering beads. It’s attached to a scaly, cat-sized body with fine, gossamer wings and a barbed tail.
“How did you get in here?”
“Kar-ka-Karson,” my little pet tells me.
I smile and push open the door. “Come on, then. You may as well join me.”
The chittarik, playfully named Norma, flies awkwardly through the small gap and lands on my head. She curls there with a deep purring sound rumbling at the back of her tiny throat. The tail, barbs and all, curls down and gently strokes my left cheek.
The water seems not to bother her, but I lessen the pressure anyway. The last thing I want is to wash her away.
My body continues to hum, confusion and thoughtfulness mingled with arousal.
And of course I’m aroused; Rayne is sexy and beautiful and perfect and not ten minutes ago had her hand inside my pyjama shorts. A rush of pleasure gushes through me at the memory, forcing me to bring my legs together, just for a moment.
Why, then? Why? Why can I not simply fall into the moment and let it take me?
I bite my lip, no closer to the answer now than I had been the last time we began to be intimate. Or the time before that. Or before that.
“Ugh. Fuck my life and everything in it.”
“Nika? Dan son.” Norma clings to my hair and leans down. She keeps going until we’re literally eye to eye, her head turned to give me the full weight of her black, beady gaze. “Karson.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry. You’re right. I need to calm down.”
Norma stares a moment longer before nipping the tip of my nose. The pocket flap beneath her chin flares open while her scales ruffle then settle. She seems satisfied with the apology, and after one more long glare, returns to her usual perch on my head.
But the more I think, the more I understand why Rayne may be verging on desperate. It’s been three months, almost four, and we’ve not once touched each other more than the gentle and sometimes not-so-gentle kissing. In fact, earlier, when her fingers brushed up against my clit, that was the first time. Ever.
I’ve never waited so long with any other woman. Hell, during my early years at SPEAR one-night stands were pretty common when I used my rank and badge as a tool to lure pretty women into my bed on an almost daily basis.
So what the hell is wrong with me now?
It doesn’t take long to clean up. Norma sweeps off my head as I shut off the water and flies out to land on the heat rack holding my towel. She pauses long enough to shake water off her body, then grips the fluffy material with her claws before launching forward to carry it to me.
She looks ridiculous.
“Thank you, baby.”
Norma drops the towel right in the bottom of the shower and shoots off with a flutter of her wings, and that strange cackle I equate to laughter.
Bloody pest.
Still, the towel is just dry enough to get the worst of the water off me, and I return to thinking as I scrub my face, moisturize, and brush my teeth.
The cross-team meeting today is a big one. With a slew of new cases to work through, teams need to be assigned their roles for the upcoming weeks. Not only that, but the newest addition to Alpha needs to assert their place as team leader.
I spit a glob of toothpaste down the sink and swirl it away.
No matter what happens with this new guy, he can’t possibly be worse than the woman he’s replacing.
Francine Quinn was a cruel, cold-hearted bitch of a team leader, and I can’t be the only one happy to see her go. Sure, very likely no one has the same history as she and I, but there’s no way I’m the only person she hurt.
My mind flashes back to a SPEAR holding cell, white, bright, and stark. Quinn stands above a restraining table, a length of consecrated steel wire stretched between her hands, hanging above Rayne’s naked, vulnerable throat.
No. I can’t be the only one.
A dull throb of pain accompanies the thought, deep and centred low on my back.
I rub the offending area before snatching a blister pack of paracetamol from the cupboard above the sink.
This is not the time to be distracted by pain.
No, today is a big, important day and I need to be ready for it.
The two pills go down easy with a big glug of water, and then, with my damp towel no doubt leaving a wet trail on the tiles, I leave the bathroom and head back to my room, ready to start my day.
Chapter Three
In the car I try to turn my mind to business and not think about the potential shit show I’ve made of my relationship with Rayne.
In the passenger seat, Norma sits tall and regal, more like a cat in this pose than at any other time. Her two front legs are planted firmly before her, backside resting on her longer back feet. Her barbed tail points straight up along with her wings, twitching left and right like sparkly antennae. She cocks her head at me, clicking softly at the back of her throat as I work the car into third gear.
The radio shifts from inane morning chatter to music. Something light and peppy, some nonsense written for teenagers too young to understand why faerie tale crushes on vampires and werewolves don’t work.
I’d laugh if not for the sudden uncertainty in my own love life. Then again, at least these days all those fantasy stories about forbidden love make more sense. Who could have known they were all based in truth?
I find myself singing with the catchy tune, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, shrieking the chorus when it comes.
Norma puts her head back and croons with me, loud and enthusiastic, though of course with her own version of the lyrics.
Damn. Actually, she sounds better than I do.
At this time of morning the roads are empty, and I turn left toward Misona only half aware of my decision to do so.
After reading through all those case notes and mission briefings, it seems my instincts have a plan of action, even if my waking mind is still distracted by the memory of Rayne slumping into her bedsheets.
Moon Fever Page 2
