CHAPTER 11
Kerrick gripped the steering wheel hard and focused on the freeway. He drew a deep breath and tried to calm the hell down. The sloth inherent in Alison’s Nova wasn’t helping at all.
He had effected a very superficial pathway to sleep. He would need to use his hand in order to take Alison the rest of the way, but so help him if he made skin-to-skin contact one more time he didn’t think he could be responsible for the outcome.
Despite the fact he’d controlled himself, his body roared with need for her, to make her his own, to stake his claim so thoroughly that every other immortal on Second would know she was off limits. Thank God it was dark. He was hard as a rock and had been since she’d parted her lips and he’d pushed his tongue into her mouth.
He cursed the breh-hedden then shifted his focus back to what she needed. He breathed again.
With one eye on the freeway, he overlaid her forehead with his hand. He sent the image of sleep past the first layer of her mind. Once again the power of her shields stunned him, but he kept working her mind until all resistance faltered. He pressed deeper and deeper until she released a heavy sigh and her head rolled to one side.
This was surely one of the most difficult experiences he’d ever known, wanting to touch this woman yet holding back, sort of like trying not to sneeze while inhaling black pepper. She was so beautiful and he could still taste the kiss and feel her body pressed up against his, the pleasure of suckling her breast. His veins hummed with the memory.
And her scent. The car smelled as if the lavender she shed had become locked onto every surface of the vehicle.
Of course, it wasn’t helping to relive what had just happened, so he focused on just breathing, air in, air out.
Once in Carefree and parked on her crushed-granite driveway, he carried her into her house, past the living room and kitchen, all the way to the back of the house to what he supposed was the family room. He stretched her out on the couch then flipped on the lamp near the bookshelves. He stared at hundreds of books and yet again time stopped. Hemingway, Kingsolver, García Márquez. She had said she loved books. So she did and he had a library most mortals could only dream about, so many first editions because, well, he’d been collecting over a long period of time.
Great. Something in common. A shared passion.
He looked down at her. The breh pressured him, spikes in his chest. This woman was meant for him, designed for him, and he for her. She wouldn’t hurt him with the power she released when she became aroused. He knew it in his bones.
The thought of her power coming at him while fully engaged … he weaved on his feet.
Shit.
He so didn’t need this.
He turned his attention to the rest of the house. He walked through each room, created a mist around the outside of the house.
Christ. If the Commander wanted her, what could stop him?
He doubled the mist.
He continued patrolling. He wasn’t sure he’d done the wisest thing bringing her to Carefree. But then where exactly would she be safe given that her signature was strong enough to appear on the grid? Greaves could easily assign one of his minions to search localities until either of their signatures was located.
He felt confident, however, that he could handle any number of death vamp squads that showed up and he could always call his brothers for backup.
Beyond those considerations, the Carefree property was nicely located. The house sat on a good quarter acre and backed up to a wilderness of cacti, native desert shrubs, gullies and washes. He could do battle here, under a cloak of mist, without disturbing the neighbors.
An hour passed. Dawn wasn’t far away now. If only vampires had the fictional quality of being allergic to the sun, then he could be at ease, because all ascenders would go to bed for the day. Death vampires did have a mild sensitivity to sunlight, but nothing serious. They could battle at high noon if necessary. A pair of Ray-Bans would keep them in business; a thick layer of sunscreen helped, too. Bastards.
He returned to the family room to look down at Alison again. His lips parted as he struggled to draw a decent breath. She was so damn beautiful.
His desire for her rose sharply … again. F*cking breh-hedden. He wanted to stretch out on top of her and, as she awakened, gently grind his hips into hers and bring her to a state of arousal to match his own.
Hell, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be with her, say, just once. After all, the completion of the breh-hedden involved a lot more than just sex. Minds had to merge—not just in telepathic conversation, but much deeper. At the exact same time, blood had to be shared, his and hers. Just one person making use of fangs wouldn’t do it; both had to be engaged at the same time. So, yeah, an exchange of blood, deep mind sharing, and penetrating sex; all three activities had to occur at exactly the same time to complete the breh-hedden.
His body melted down as the image of engaging Alison in all three ways took hold of him.
Her blood … his mouth.
Her mind … his thoughts tunneling deep.
His cock buried inside her.
Her throat … his blood.
His mind … her thoughts taking possession.
Her body clenching around his shaft.
A soft chuff and a low growl broke from his chest. His abs tightened. His eyes burned. Desire seemed like such a small word.
Guilt followed as it always did, a rabid dog racing behind him and finding purchase on his neck. He shook his head from side to side. How could he move forward with his thoughts, with his desire, when he sucked at keeping those he loved alive? He was responsible for Alison now, to keep her safe during these treacherous three days of ascension.
And yet, he had to have at least part of her, a taste of her. He couldn’t deny himself that much, even as paltry as it would be compared with completing the breh.
He didn’t understand all the forces that had brought him to this place, here and now, staring down at a woman built for him in every possible way.
He thought of Thorne and his despair. Of all his brothers-in-arms and the lack of women in their lives.
They all needed this, some kind of connection, an anchor in stormy seas, which a woman could provide.
Okay, he knew he was rationalizing, but he’d come to a decision. He would have this woman, at least in part. Here. Now.
His heart once more slammed against his ribs.
He knelt beside the couch, moved in close, and dipped his face into her neck. He breathed in her fragrant skin, her intoxicating lavender. She had asked why vampirism? As he thought about driving his thoughts deep, sinking his fangs, and plunging into her, he knew why. He knew what it would be like with her, to take her fully, his body, mind, and blood engaged, the oneness, the connection.
Hunger swamped him, a tidal wave, relentless, powerful, demanding. He craved her.
Alison, he sent, drawing her out of sleep. He drew back, unbuckled his weapons harness, and slid it off his shoulders. He laid it carefully on the adjacent love seat. He removed his cadroen and set his long warrior hair free.
* * *
Alison opened her eyes, her mind loose, her vision unfocused. Her head felt stuffed with cotton. She looked up at some kind of ceiling. The room was dark except for the dim light from one nearby lamp. Something heavy, though not unpleasant, rested on her stomach. Warm puffs of air teased her neck and raked shivers down the right side of her body.
Weird. Maybe she was still dreaming.
After a long moment, the ceiling took better shape and she recognized the texture pattern of her home in Carefree. Oh, she was home … in Carefree.
So, how did she get here?
Where had she been? Why was her mind so unfocused?
Oh, yeah. The alley, falling men, a bomb, and her Nova.
Oh, God. Kerrick.
He had kissed her like he needed to explain to her in precise detail just what kinds of things made up a real kiss. Then she had seen his fangs, and her mind had started unraveling.
On the way home, he’d put his hand on her forehead and she had drifted into the most beautiful, peaceful sleep.
She blinked a couple more times and came fully awake. Kerrick’s arm rested on her stomach and he was suckling the right side of her neck. A wicked streak of desire flowed from the point of his lips all the way down her body. She slid her hands into his thick black hair, now loose around his bare shoulders. Without thinking, she slipped into his mind, bypassing his shields, and going beyond the level of mere telepathic communication. She was inside his head.
She retreated, shocked. Her vampire warrior was in a state of full arousal, his mind a tornado of need and desire. He had told her something had hold of him, breh-hedden. Evidently. He gave off heat in waves.
I need you, he sent, his deep voice saturating her mind, like water soaking into thirsty ground. I want you, to be inside you, to have your blood in me.
She rasped a heavy breath. My blood in you?
I won’t hurt you.
He wanted to take her vein. I know you won’t. I can see into your soul, vampire. You have a golden heart.
The words once conveyed to his mind seemed so inadequate to express what she had seen in him: his dedication to Second Earth, his perfect submission to Endelle, his love for his warrior brothers, his desire to do the right thing, always, his desperate guilt.
How could she resist a man she could admire like this?
He sighed and kissed her neck. “I love that you were inside my head, but I can’t believe you pushed past my shields and I didn’t even know it! Damn, what power.”
“You couldn’t tell I was there?”
“No, which means you must have abilities like Endelle. She can do that, too.”
“And you don’t mind?”
“Truth? I loved it.”
She drew in another deep breath, and his cardamom male scent flooded her nostrils. Desire, pure and simple, drifted over her body like a warm breeze. Beautiful, exquisite pheromones. She would have fallen backward if she hadn’t already been stretched out on the couch.
Are you feeling better? he asked.
Much.
He rested on his knees beside the sofa and must have been bent at an awkward angle over her, but he wasn’t complaining.
He dragged his fangs over her neck. The sensation caused her heart to skip a beat and her body to clench … hard.
Alison?
She heard the question beneath her whispered name. Was she really going to do this? To allow such an invasion? Such a release of herself into him?
He lifted up and looked at her. Lavender, he whispered over her mind.
The sight of him did her in, beautiful, fully masculine, incredible green eyes, thick black hair now framing his god-like face.
Desire flowed through her like a river. She wanted to throw herself into the current and swim.
He nodded as though understanding.
He bent down to again nuzzle her neck.
She moaned at the new set of chills whipping over her body. She touched his hair and pulled the coarse strands through her fingers.
He growled against her neck. More shivers. Her fingers wound through his hair.
Be strong for me, he whispered in vaporous trails that condensed in her mind. He shifted slightly and kissed her neck. She rolled her head to allow more room. He groaned heavily and moved in closer. He pulled her hips toward him then slid her head away from the back of the sofa to give him even more access.
His tongue flattened and rasped up the side of her neck as though drawing forward what he wanted. Again and again he licked. Her pulse throbbed. The duller sides of his fangs scraped the skin above her vein. She had touched one of them when he’d been unconscious on the hood of her car. The sharp tip had drawn blood. How little it would take to puncture her throat.
Was she really going to do this thing? Allow this penetration?
He nuzzled, kissed, licked.
An ache formed deep within. Desire gripped her and again she clenched internally. She moaned. What had he said about the sharing of blood? An act of reverence.
Reverence? she sent.
Yes. God, yes.
He slid his hand over her stomach, pushed aside her sweater, then lifted her T-shirt. The callused pads of his warrior fingers drifted over her ribs, creating sliding jolts of pleasure. He found the waistband of her jeans, unhooked the button, and unzipped. He slid his palm lower beneath the fabric and rubbed in circles, moving deeper with each pass, digging his fingers into her flesh. Her hips rose and fell in response.
He scraped her neck again. I tasted the blood on your finger. I want more. I need more. More of you. Will you give me what I desire?
She wanted to. Was this what he meant when he said the woman had to be willing? She was so absurdly willing.
Do you have me in thrall?
No, but I can put you there if you want.
No, she whispered through the rugged contours of his mind. I want everything just like this, awake and aware.
She arched her neck.
He growled heavily. As he rose up, he slid his hand the rest of the way down her pants and cupped her. He pivoted his shoulders and overlaid his fangs above her vein. You must give me permission.
Alison had a thousand reasons to say no. She didn’t even know this man—vampire—whatever. He admitted he was caught in something even he didn’t think was such a good idea, bonding of some kind. And hey, it was her blood, her blood she’d be giving up. Truth? She ached with need from her head to her toes. She was in a process of ascension, which still confused her and freaked her out and he was asking for blood and oh, damn, she was so going to give it up for him.
Take me now, her mind whispered.
He emitted the most erotic sound, something between a gasp and a growl. He sank the razor-sharp tips, a quick sting then just the presence of his fangs. The next moment he sucked long and hard from her vein.
At the same time, his fingers worked her delicate folds. Desire rushed over her in lightning flashes. She gasped and moaned. It would take so little. The pulls on her neck were connected to the well of her body and each time his mouth suckled, she clenched internally, over and over. The lightning strikes continued, pulsing down her sensitive flesh, streaking into her core. The clenching became exquisitely unbearable. She should warn him how close she was, that she might … oh, God … she came so suddenly she cried out. Pleasure climaxed like nothing ever before. At the same time, power rolled from her, a burst of energy that struck him before she could give the warning. She felt his body react as if he’d taken a hit, although the only sound he made as he continued pulling at her neck was a deep satisfied groan.
Are you okay? she sent.
More than okay. That was amazing. Do it again.
I didn’t hurt you?
Not even a little bit, he sent, his fangs still deep, the pulls on her neck gentler now as he conversed telepathically. The blast felt like an erotic punch to my chest. More. I want more.
You don’t know how relieved I am. Her eyes burned suddenly and unexpected tears slid down the sides of her face.
She hadn’t hurt him and he wanted more of what she could give.
Relief merged with pleasure, heightening every sensation. More growls rumbled in his throat. He pushed his large hand deeper, taking her jeans to their limit as he pressed two fingers inside.
She whimpered as he rhythmically worked her core and at the same time took from her vein.
I have so much more to give you, Alison. I want you to have everything, my mouth sucking your beautiful breasts, my cock inside you pumping hard, working your body, driving your passion. I want to feast on your sex, taste your honey.
His words forged a new fire. His driving fingers stoked the flames. Her cries rose to the ceiling. That’s it, his voice murmured inside her head. She was breathing hard. Her core clenched around his driving fingers. Lightning slid over her flesh again and she screamed yet another orgasm. And another. Each time her power pummeled him, but he merely growled as though deeply satisfied.
Tears once more trailed from her eyes as her body quieted.
After a few minutes, he withdrew his fangs. He remained settled against her neck, his lips kissing in tender swipes, his fingers still possessing her core.
Will my neck bleed? she sent.
Not at all. When I withdrew, chemicals left the tips of each fang and gave you a quick seal-and-heal.
She took deep breaths, settling into the reality of what had just happened as well as how happy she was. She could get used to this, to being with him.
Even so, her heart tensed. After all, what did she really know of him? She had an overwhelming desire to stay with him forever, but how sensible or even possible or likely would that be? By his own admission, he said he could never really be with her, not in any permanent sense.
Oh, God, what did she risk by drawing this close, by allowing her blood into his body, by giving herself to him?
She was in so much trouble.
Her hands were still buried in his thick hair, a couple of her fingers knotted up completely. She started untangling them. When she was free, Kerrick slowly withdrew his fingers from the well of her body then looked at her. She dropped her gaze to his lips. “You have blood on your mouth and you look really pumped, stronger.”
He nodded. He appeared sated as he carefully wiped his mouth with the fingers that had been inside her. Green eyes bored into hers as he sucked his fingers clean of every last bit of her. Lavender, he sent.
Her entire body became a pool that just kept sinking deeper and deeper into the couch. She didn’t want to get up … ever. She wanted to stay here and watch this man, this vampire, lick his fingers, his green eyes dark with passion and need, his strength enhanced by her blood.
He leaned over her and planted a hand between the sofa back and her side. His dark hair fell forward onto her face, her neck, her chest. Even his hair smelled of exotic cardamom. His fangs lengthened. Arousal, maybe? Probably.
A new wave of heat rolled from his body and blasted her. She lifted a finger and touched his left fang. So smooth. Her finger strayed to his lower lip and as he had done while unconscious he drew her finger into his mouth. He closed his eyes and moaned. She had the most profound sensation that she could never tire of this man, this vampire, not in a hundred million years.
He released her finger, leaned down and kissed her, the weight of his fangs pressed against her lips, his tongue dipping inside. She suckled and he groaned. She was so into this. If this was ascension, give her more, a lot more.
He started pushing down her pants around her hips. He had just managed to free one cheek when a really bad sensation stole up her spine like a spider with claws. She planted a hand on his thick shoulder. “Kerrick,” she called sharply. “Something’s not right.”
“No,” he said, his voice husky. “This is right. This is very right.”
She sat up and pushed at him. “I’m serious, Kerrick. Something’s wrong. I can feel it. I sense it. We’re in trouble.”
He drew back and scowled. “What kind of trouble?”
“I think death vampires are on the way.” She shook her head. “A lot of death vampires.”
Kerrick shook his head. “Shit.” He started to pace.
Alison leaped from the couch, pulled up her jeans, zipped, then buttoned. She glanced out the family room slider, which faced east. The mountains opposite were trimmed in a faint light. Dawn would not be far behind.
He looked at her. “So you’re sure about this.” He crossed to the other couch, grabbed his weapons harness then slid it on. In a blur of motion he drew his hair back and secured it in the leather clasp.
She nodded. “We need to get out of here. Now. But Kerrick, this isn’t fair to you.”
“What?” He looked like she’d slapped him.
“Why should you be put in danger because of my ascension?”
He actually laughed. “Oh, please. This is my job. Shit, I can’t believe you said that.” He drew his phone from his pocket. “Now I need to ask again, are you absolutely sure? Because what I’m about to do is illegal.”
Alison nodded. “I keep seeing the word regiment, and I feel the pressure of an army coming—not just one man or even two or three.”
He dipped his chin. “That’s good enough for me.” He thumbed his phone then a moment later said, “Central, I’m calling an emergency lift … repeat, an emergency lift. Have Thorne retrieve two at this signal and make it fast. We will be on the move.” He thumbed his phone again and slid it into the pocket of his kilt. He cursed. He was so f*cking limited in the action he could take. Even if he’d had the capacity to fold Alison to another location, chances were good Greaves could track their movements and send death vampires right on their tail. When Thorne performed the fold, he had the power to block a trace.
But what he really didn’t understand was how Greaves had found them in the first place. The complexity of the mist Kerrick had created this time in order to disguise Alison’s house should have prevented detection, even from Greaves, which of course meant the Commander had increased his technological capability. So … shit.
“Kerrick. The regiment is here. Right now. Outside.”
He blurred to her side and took her hands in his. “We have no time. You said you had a Hummer. You must fold us there now—only please tell me your Hummer is good to go.”
She nodded.
Kerrick squeezed her fingers. “Just relax.”
Relax? Really? She smiled but she took his words to heart, drew in a long deep breath, and concentrated. She felt the vibration.
Just as she appeared by the vehicle with Kerrick in front of her and his hands still holding hers, an enormous blast sounded on the other side of the house. The walls shook. The garage sat on the opposite side of the house, separated by a courtyard and a wing of bedrooms, which she suspected was exactly what had just saved them.
“So Darian’s army just blew up the rest of my house.”
Kerrick nodded then thrust a hand toward the vehicle. “Get in.”
She mentally hit the lights, both for the garage and the headlights for the Hummer.
“Maybe I should fold us somewhere else?”
“Too late. Greaves’s army has a fix on you, with death vamps ready to trace no matter where we go, and believe me, if they’ve sent a regiment to your home, they’d be happy to send another regiment in pursuit. They’d engage me in such a way that I’d be forced to leave you unguarded. Then you’d be dead. Right now only the call to Thorne will get us out of this.”
“Lead on,” she cried. She vaulted around to the passenger’s side then hopped in. She started to tell him she had forgotten the keys but there was nothing holding her back. She pointed to the ignition and started the vehicle. She could use any of her powers right now, in the presence of this warrior, and it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t be freaked and he wouldn’t judge her. Maybe he wouldn’t even get hurt.
She turned toward the garage door and began forming the thought to open it. Instead his words zipped through her mind: No time, duck down. He aimed his hand at the door, fired away, shattered the back window of the Hummer, and sent the garage door flying off its hinges.
The Second Earth vampire had power!
A heartbeat later he backed out of the garage at the devil’s own pace.
He turned, skidded, and shifted into drive.
He hit the accelerator.
The tires squealed.
He didn’t bother with the driveway. He drove straight through the wire fence and the hilly open desert away from the front of the house. The Hummer’s lights bounced over the terrain like a lantern swinging wildly.
As her eyes adjusted, she looked around. Greaves’s army attacked, heading toward her house on the ground and in black combat gear or flying down out of the sky. Some of the soldiers looked normal, but the rest were death vampires bearing the hallmark beauty of their kind as well as the pale, almost bluish tint to the skin. Those soldiers in flight wore the same gear Kerrick did right now: kilts, gladiator sandals, and weapons harnesses. However, the weapon of choice involved bullets rather than blades.
“Oh, God.”
One good spray from an assault rifle and game over.
“Get down,” Kerrick’s deep voice thumped inside the Hummer.
She dropped low in her seat though she felt compelled to keep an eye on what was happening.
A death vamp flew close then lifted his rifle.
Without thinking she raised her hand, blew out the front windshield, and knocked the warrior down. The resulting bounce of tires caused her stomach to lurch. Oh, God, they’d run him over.
Kerrick cried out, “Keep doing what you’re doing. Right now you’re our best weapon. Goddammit.” He jerked the heavy vehicle to the right, bounced down into a wash, then climbed up the other side all in the space of seconds. The maneuver left behind a platoon of foot soldiers.
More death vamps, in flight, headed toward the Hummer.
With one hand on the steering wheel, Kerrick held out his right hand and a pistol appeared. A death vamp landed on the hood. Kerrick fired, chest center, and blew the vamp backward. Another crunch under the wheels. Alison’s stomach heaved north.
Her peripheral vision caught movement. A death vamp flew at window level. He slowly raised a pistol. Her eyes widened. Once more she sent a blast, which in turn sent the death vamp spiraling out of control and piled up at the base of a saguaro.
“Goddammit, Central. Where’s Thorne?”
He fired his pistol until the trigger clicked on empty. He folded another weapon into his hand and pulled the trigger, the sound deafening inside the Hummer. Death vamps fell right and left and still more came. He fired as he drove through the desert, up and down gullies, busting apart creosote, sideswiping tall spindly ocotillo, and crunching fat barrel cacti.
Alison kept aiming her palm at anything that drew close. Her heart had ramped up, doubled its beats. She had never been so frightened in her life.
A thumping sounded on the roof. Alison sent a blast up. The top of the Hummer lifted, separated, then fell off the back of the vehicle. From her side mirror she saw a winged death vamp slide down the side of the wash then struggle to gain his feet.
“Shit,” Kerrick cried out. “Thorne, where are you?”
Alison turned around and cried out. In front of her at least twenty death vamps rained down from the sky directly in the Hummer’s path.
Do your best, Alison, or God help us, he sent.
She blasted away with her hand in a wide arc in front of her, but she knew her power had weakened. She’d never thrown so many hand-blasts in her life. Not all the warriors fell. Her left shoulder jerked backward.
She felt a strange curdling in the pit of her stomach. Another winged death vamp landed on the hood of the Hummer. Kerrick pulled the trigger, but only a series of clicks followed.
The pretty-boy aimed his pistol directly at her, a feral look in his eyes, a smile pulled back over thick, heavy fangs. Alison lifted her hand, but the blast that followed had little effect. She was finished.
Time slowed.
So this was how she was going to die?
She laughed. So much for ascending to Second Earth. She hadn’t even survived a handful of hours.
She closed her eyes and waited.
A brilliant light flashed in front of her eyelids.
The next thing she knew, she stood before a tall handsome man with long light brown hair. He was almost as tall as Kerrick and just as muscled. His hazel eyes were badly red-rimmed like he hadn’t slept in a year.
He scowled at her. “You’re hit.”
She didn’t know what he meant exactly. No one had hit her, but her mind felt as if it was moving in circles at the bottom of a drain. She couldn’t see very well. She glanced around. She had landed in some sort of very dark rec room that housed a bunch of really ugly couches. A pool table was on its back, all four legs up in the air, two of them bent at a weird angle. On the other side of the room was a long bar fronted by several tall stools. An assortment of gleaming hard-liquor bottles in a variety of shapes and sizes decorated a row of cabinets.
She weaved on her feet. Pain pierced her shoulder suddenly, like someone had just taken a chain saw to the joint. She glanced down. Blood soaked her shirt and sweater. She pulled the neck of the T-shirt away and sure enough, blood pumped sluggishly from a bullet wound.
Well, what do you know? She’d gotten hit.
Oh. That’s what the guy with the red-rimmed eyes had meant.
At least she wasn’t dead.
At least, she didn’t think she was dead.
Her knees gave way. She had a vague impression of someone catching her as everything went black.
Let the healer come,
For when the wounds are well-tended
A land is saved.
—Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth