Sliding into marriage with Curt because it was expected, keeping the house pin-neat on his salary—entry-level insurance adjustor, a good solid career choice, and as he moved up through the ranks the frequent business trips were harder on his delicate digestion than on her loneliness. Laundry, shopping, cooking, putting up preserves, sending Christmas and birthday cards to his extended family and her paternal aunt Kelly’s as well. Simone’s parents, having done their duty, weren’t the type to keep in touch after unloading her into a marriage, and anyway there was the terrible car accident near her sixth wedding anniversary.
Right in the middle of the Aruba trip supposed to be her and Curt’s second honeymoon, as a matter of fact.Christ, they’ve got awful timing, he’d grumbled on the way to the airport, and Simone had stared out the cab’s condensation-starred window at tropical scenery, muffling a bright sharp heart-stabbing sensation which very well might have been hate.
Taking her birth control pills on the sly because the thought of swelling up and pushing out a squalling copy of Curt was sickening in a way she never quite articulated even to herself,smiling nicely whenever one of Curt’s cousins asked whether they weren’t thinking about kids yet, wanting to adopt a cat from the shelter but Curt’s allergies forbade, the years piling up like dandruff until one day she looked around and realized she was forty-eight, where had the time gone? And the years of weariness afterward, realizing her marriage was a sham and the rest of her life a desert.
Was that the ‘numbness’ this old vamp talked about? It certainly sounded similar, though maybe not as intense. After she got fangs, all sensations were dialed into the red and her memories of human life oddly dark, muted.
The sheets were cool against her legs and toes; thankfully, she wasn’t thirsty. Had he undressed her? She’d certainly freed herself of nightgowns and all other encumbrances while sleeping on hot summer nights before, but never since getting infected.
What if therewasa cure, like Barry’s billionaire thought? Should she mention it to this old, overwhelming, completely unhinged creature?
“Then they were fools,” the old vampire said, as if consigning the whole human race to that category. “We should leave here tonight. I do not like how the mortals keep trying the door.”
“Probably want to clean the room.” She braced the blanket against her chest, rubbed at her forehead. The invisible seals clearly kept people out during the day; what would she have given for that skill when learning how to vamp? “Wait. Did you… how did you pay for this? You have to show ID, so?—”
“They will take anything as identification, with proper inducement. And money is easy, my leman.”
Maybe for you. Still, having someone show her a few ropes might not be a bad idea. If she could just get him to stop… stop fucking her, for God’s sake. Simone’s breath caught; she was very aware of her bare shoulders, tousled hair, the vampire’s gaze roaming as his hands had a habit of doing.
It was goddamndistracting, to be stared at like this.
Her face must have changed, since his smile widened. “Do you doubt my ability to provide? I hunted well today, and will feed you soon.”
Oh, God. “When you sayhunted… do you kill people?”
“Y’all can learn to drink without killing before the first century.” A slight, dismissive ripple of those now-disconcertingly broad shoulders, the merest suggestion of a shrug. “Ah, forgive me. I should say,youcan learn. Fledglings, that is.”
Why is he apologizing?“But others can’t?”
“I must have, for the habit mostly carried after the fire.” A slow blink of those bright eyes, catlike. “Leman do not suffer the urge to glut, so you have never killed, yes?”
Oh, I’ve killed. Just not people.“Only vampires.” Which was probably a bad thing to admit. And how had her life come to this—sitting naked on a hotel bed, calmly discussing murder and bounties with a bloodsucker so old he didn’t remember ‘the first century’? And his casual ‘mostlycarried’ was kind of concerning. “You’ve done that too. Right?”
“Of course.” Like it was no big deal. “And I will again, if necessary.”
Oh shit. Was he eventually going to killher? All the talk about being special, about being rare, might just meanlike veal, orlike foie gras.
“For example, if another sanguinant seeks to claim my darling. Or if a mortal distresses her—they can be dangerous in swarms, you must realize. Other creatures are not much hazard, since most of thedemimondeknows better than t’approach a leman.” The smile faded, and now his unblinking blue stare was that of a large predator.
Sharp, alert. Dangerous.
“Look.” It was super difficult to sound anything other than petrified at the moment. “You want to leave, and I’ve got some things to do anyway. So how about I get dressed, and?—”
“We shall go anywhere you like.” Quiet, but with a note of finality. The vampire tensed, leaning slightly forward, and if his gaze had been direct before it was downright scorching now. Not just undressing her with those bright azure eyes but laying her bare, as if the sheet, blanket, comforter didn’t matter. “But first, my darling, I must please you.”
What the hell does that mean?She had a suspicion. The sinking sensation in her middle met a curious, dark excitement, quickly repressed. “It would be really pleasing to get dressed,” she said, hoping it would work.
And staying very, very still.
“Afterward.” He began to uncoil, slowly.
Simone’s breath caught. She scrambled backward, her shoulders smacking the headboard, and seeing a half-naked man leap onto the bed, crouching to balance easily, should have been ridiculous.
It wasn’t, mostly because he was so controlled. Knowing exactly how strong he was, how fast, was both alarming and an odd, mordant relief. There was nothing to be done; he was a hurricane in vampire form, and she a rowboat caught on the waves. “Wait,” she pleaded, edging clumsily sideways, the mattress giving an alarming groan. “We can talk about this, we can?—”
“You’ll fall,” he noted, mildly. “If you want to be taken on the floor again, I do not mind.”
Simone froze. Miraculously, he did as well, and that smile was back. He certainly seemed to be enjoying himself. Worse, there was a traitorous trickle of heat between her legs. She couldn’t get in enough air; her skin seemed at once too tight andabsurdly sensitive. Her nipples were hard as ice chips, standing to attention, and a terrible, volcanic thrill shot through her.
