“Do it,” she repeated. Her trembling arms raised, hands finding the muscle-slopes between his neck and shoulders. She couldn’t get her legs up to wrap around him, but the urge to simply climb this tall, stock-still vampire like a tree was overwhelming. “Make me forget.”
“Leila…” Drawing out her name like he knew the song, almost a groan.
“The bed’s right there.” Now she could besureshe was in charge of her own body again; she could barely believe she’d said that to a monster, but it was unquestionably her own decision. “Although?—”
He was already moving, fabric tearing—she felt a momentary, completely laughable pang for the poor dress, first ripped by her own thrashing and now this—and the world whirling like a carnival ride again. This time, however, the ride was controlled, a thrill instead of a careening disaster. The mattress accepted them with a short surprised sound; no matter how everything spun, Layla found,hewas still right there, solid and real. His mouth on hers, insistent and greedy, the purr of that strange growl spilling through her, his hand curling under her left knee and lifting, and then theinvasion, a single hard thrust she was more than willing to meet.
Certainly not wasting time, are we. Then there was no more opportunity for thought. His mouth drew away for a bare moment, kissing frantically down her chin, and before she could flinch his fangs struck as he surged forward again, burying his cock completely.
Her back arched; she could scream, but the cry was short and breathless, lightning slamming through every nerve. Fear and dark pleasure swirled, her nails turned to claws scraping frantically against his shoulder and a long furrow down his back, dragging over flickering muscle as he did it again, again,again, patient and deadly as the pressure coiled inside her.
Until she shattered, heart pounding, great gripping waves pulsing through every inch, her body entirely hers once more. How the cut opened she didn’t know, but hot candysweet blood filled her mouth, and she drank in long starving swallows while he whispered her name, over and over, holding her safely pinned to white eyelet lace.
EPILOGUE
Several months later
“Not ever?”Layla propped herself on her elbow, frankly amazed. The oak tree rustled, night wind caught in branches heavy with damp spring leaves. “Really?”
“Not even as fledglings.” Flat on his back, fingers laced behind his head, Max lounged like a big cat. He was impossibly feline sometimes. “Some say the killing sleep holds dreams and that is how it grasps an elder, with memories of mortal life. Or fantasies.” One corner of his mouth lifted incrementally. “Much better to rest in a leman’s arms.”
Layla rolled her eyes. “Except when you sleep in the corner.” She picked idly at the plaid blanket he’d spread so carefully atop another weatherproof layer, since the ground was damp from constant rain.
It was a tradeoff. Everything here was so green, all the time.
“That…” A slight, rippling shrug. His every move was so controlled, but he didn’t seem to mind her constant need to fidget. “It’s different. It’s more of a trance.”
Sure. Maybe now was a good time to broach the subject. This park had a great view of the city’s glimmering, a field of stars mirroring the great vault overhead. The breeze was chilly, but sanguinant didn’t feel extreme temperatures so much; still, she decided to slither a bit closer to his comforting heat. “I’ve been thinking.”
As usual, he immediately tilted his head, paying attention. “Yes?”
“About hunting—not to feed,” she hastened to add, knowing how he felt aboutthatparticular subject. No that she ever wanted to grab a human being and take blood, though he said she wouldn’t go nuts, swallow too much, and inadvertently murder someone.Immune to the glut, was how he put it, and while she was glad about the assertion Layla didn’t feel like testing it anytime soon. “But other things. Demimonde stuff.”
Max was silent, but not in a dismissive way. His quiet was focused, receptive attention; it was strange to be listened to so closely. She liked the feeling, certainly, but still suffered the same old flutter of anxiety at advancing an idea, risking another hunter’s ire.
Especially a man.
“We could do a lot of good,” she added, her knee touching his leg. Carefully, because he was apt to take most nudges as an invitation to at least a kiss. “Right? Take care of mad sanguinant, the ones doing bad things.”
“Hm.” Neither agreeing nor the opposite, a very male noise.
Layla nudged a little harder. “Don’t just grunt,talkto me.”
“Yes,puella mea.” A lingering rumble under the words, and his smile was more definite now. He’d even unbent enough to wear flannel button-ups and sometimes even a baseball cap, though the work trousers and boots were a given.Good for battle, he said. “As long as you like, always.”
More than that, though, he seemed a lot more, well,human. Still a little stilted sometimes, but the difference was night and day. Which he said was entirely due to having a leman, but Layla thought regular athletic sex was probably a factor as well. God knew she had loosened up in that department; the things he could do with his mouth, for example… “English, Max.”
He wanted to be entirely modern.
“Thank you.” Gravely grateful for the reminder, as was every time. “I clear every sanguinant so foolish as to tread in this territory, sweetheart.” His eyebrows rose a little, questioning if he’d used the right endearment.
Good job. She risked slipping a little closer, laid her head on his chest. “Yeah, you sneak out near dawn for that, and when you come back you sleep in the corner. Did you think I couldn’t tell? Anyway, we could really do some good. Couldn’t we? I’m fast, and strong.”Since you keep feeding me, and you’re old.
Finding out he could go out in daylight had been a bit of a shock. A daywalker had erased O’Shaughnassey’s entire team; she still wasn’t sure how to feel about snuggling with the biter who had wiped out her own.
Sure, they had shot at him first. But still.
“For a fledgling, yes.” As usual, he moved slightly to accommodate, then became motionless the moment she finished arranging herself comfortably. “That is not my concern.”
