Bound by Blood fb-2 Page 8

  “Do you drink anything beside blood?”

  “There’s nothing else I need, but I like coffee in the morning, and there’s booze, of course. Nothing else sits well. But Alex—he’s my little brother—he eats much more of your food.” Gregor dropped his voice as if letting her in on a big secret. “He owns a blender.”

  Dark secrets of the Lords of Night. “And so…?”

  “He makes fruit smoothies.”

  Gregor’s lips went thin as he considered this blow against the dignity of vampires everywhere. Maddy clapped her hands together. She liked this Alex character. “Why does he do that?”

  “Because he’s a nut.” For all his disapproval, Gregor sounded pretty fond of his brother. “I think he’s going native. You’ll see what I mean when you meet him.”

  And when might that be? Maddy squirmed a little in her seat, but then got distracted when Gregor began to shake salt into his hot water.

  “What’s that?”

  “This is what you call bare maintenance.” With a rueful smile he added half a packet of sugar to his salt water.

  “A blood substitute?”

  Gregor made a noise that sounded like “Phhhttt” and buried his face in the mug. Okay, she understood. She spoke a little grumpy vampire now. It was a pathetic substitute for blood, and if he’d had his way, his belly would be full of her blood this moment.

  She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. In the heat of things, she wanted to give everything to him, anything he wanted. But considered in cold light, the thought of him dining on her was kind of gross. He would be, in effect, a two-hundred-pound mosquito. On the bright side, though, he was not a walking corpse.

  Considering his disgruntlement, she shouldn’t have been surprised by his next words.

  “Tell me about your heart.”

  But she was, because she was in such denial about it that night. The organ in question lub-dubbed in its sloppy, half-assed way against her ribs. It was hard to lie to Gregor, particularly now, when he was so sweetly rumpled and concerned. All his attention was riveted on her. He would hear it if she lied.

  “I was born with a heart defect.” Without thinking she reached up to stroke the sunken scar. “Four of them, actually. It’s called the Tetrology of Fallot—a funny name, I know. I had to have corrective surgery when I was born, and several more times, well, ten times all together. There were complications, you see…”

  Skipping this, skipping that, skipping over scary details, massive infections, long hospital stays, one malpractice suit, the simple fact that her heart was a lemon, and going in for the big lie. “I’m fine now. It’s just that my circulation is bad.”

  Gregor dropped his eyes low, to his mug, maybe, or the rising steam. “Your pulse is odd. I’ve never heard anything like it.”

  Yeah, ’cause most folks with hearts like hers were dead.

  “Is this why you won’t date anyone?” he asked.

  “No, and why is my business, so don’t go there.”

  Still he was finding his mug fascinating.

  “I’d rather you share the truth with me by your free will, Madelena.” His voice was so soft that the threat almost didn’t register with her.

  “You know Faustin, just because I had sex with you doesn’t—”

  Quick as a snake, he grabbed her wrist. “That was more than sex. You know it.”

  “Let go.” She strained against his grip. When he didn’t let go, she said, “I have to pee.”

  That worked. Invoking bodily functions always worked. She fled to the bathroom.

  Chapter 7

  Like the rest of his place, the bath was mostly empty and scrupulously clean. She sat on the toilet, face buried in her hands, thinking. Thinking for a long time, even though the options were few. In the end she decided that running like hell was her best option. There was nothing else to do, no way to make this thing better.

  If she’d only listened to her common sense, she’d be safe in her jammies. Instead here she was hiding in a vampire’s bathroom, a vampire that was getting serious on her. If any male creature in the world could be counted on to be content with a one night stand, she’d think the inventors of the Dine and Dash would be right at the top of that list.

  Goddamn Gregor Faustin. Whatever she did next, she was going to hurt him, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

  She put off talking to him a few minutes more by cleaning herself up. As she did, she noticed a purplish spot on her shoulder. Squinting, she leaned in close to the mirror to see it. It was in fact a spectacular bite mark on her shoulder. And there was another on her neck. And another. And another. A necklace of bruised teeth marks. It looked like she’d been mauled by a pit bull. She remembered him nipping her, but this was out of control.

  “Faustin!”

  Looking none too happy himself, he came to loom in the bathroom door.

  She pointed to her neck. “I want you to fix these right now.”

  “No.” He was so curt she wanted to slap him.

  “What do you mean, ‘no’? I’m not your chew toy. This is disgusting.”

  He strong-armed her in front of the mirror and stood behind her, holding her there. “The bites are clean, but I promise you, they won’t fade fast.”

  With gentle fingers he massaged the bruised flesh in circles. As he did, she flashed back on the moment of the biting, the pain sharpening the pleasure, him inside her, possessing her.

  “When you’re alone, you are going to touch these bites and think of me. You’re going to come when you think of me possessing you.”

  “No. I won’t.”

  In the mirror she saw his big hands over her breasts, the purple of the scars dark between them.

  His lips were on her hair, on her brow, at her ear. “I’ve marked you as mine.”

  No, no, no.

  “Madelena, I can’t control this thing—neither can you.”

  As he spoke, his hands became rough and his kisses urgent rather than coaxing. All her resolutions cracked. She couldn’t think straight. Her breasts ached, she wanted him inside, she wanted to bend over the sink that moment and take him.

  “You feel it.”

  Maddy shook her head, denying it even as she softened against him. “No,” she whispered. That word was all she had to hold on to, the only right answer. Whatever was happening between them, it was just too late. “Gregor, please, don’t.”

  Their eyes met in the mirror. His hands ran down her belly, over her hips. His voice snaked its way down her spine. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Instead she reached back to caress his face and lifted her mouth to his. If he knew how to read it, her answer was in her kiss—her regrets, her apologies. Their tongues slid together briefly, then he left her mouth to kiss down her throat, to nurse at her faulty pulse. Her eyes drifted shut.

  This had to stop.

  Maddy opened her eyes. What she saw in the mirror shocked her. She didn’t even recognize herself. Embarrassed, she looked at the floor, but she had to look again, just to understand what she’d seen.

  Gregor’s head was a shadow against her neck. Fascinated, she lifted a hand and sank her fingers into his dark hair. The heavy-lidded woman in the mirror matched her gesture—a woman who looked like she could fuck an army and ask for more, a woman with a vampire’s brand circling her throat.

  Gregor lifted his head and nodded his approval, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “Now you see who you are. Is it any wonder I want you?”

  His hand skimmed straight down her belly. Eager for his touch, she widened her stance, and his fingers slipped into her cleft. Of course she was wet, wet like Niagara Falls was wet. That first sliding stroke almost made her come. His other hand clapped over her breast, teased a nipple. Helpless, she trembled in his arms while he played her like he knew her every secret.

  “You’re so damn hot. I want to suck you dry,” he growled into her ear. “I want all of you, Madelena, and sooner or later, I will get what I want.”

/>   “You can’t.”

  Her heart was going nuts, her head was spinning. She didn’t know if she was going to come or die or both.

  Snarling, he pushed her head down so she was bent over the sink. “Spread your legs.”

  But he didn’t do what she expected. Instead, Gregor dropped to his knees and repaid her for her blow job.

  He spread her cheeks wide and lapped his cat tongue around her asshole. He sucked and bit her ass until his saliva ran hot down her crack and swamped her pussy. Maddy clawed at the sink, trying to keep her feet, knowing he was going to bring her to her knees.

  It was torture.

  “Fuck me,” she begged. “Please.”

  Instead he forced her legs even wider and probed her with his tongue. His tongue, which should be illegal. Slurping and sucking her tender flesh while his long finger caressed her G-spot. She gripped the sink tight. His tongue zeroed in on her clit.

  “Gregor…”

  She was so wet it was flowing down her legs. He was drinking her.

  The room spun, she couldn’t feel her limbs, but at her center she went supernova.

  “Ah!” Blackness was on her, a black convulsive wave. She fell through it, and came down hard.

  Next thing she knew she was on her back, staring up at the bathroom ceiling. Gregor was holding a wet cloth to her forehead, his face ashen. “You hit your head on the sink.”

  Actually she was pretty sure she fainted from lack of oxygen, then hit her head. Standing up and orgasming was just too much to ask of the poor ticker. “I’m okay.”

  Gregor frowned.

  Their short future flashed before her.

  It was hard to be the one by the bedside, to be helpless, to be forced to watch the spook show. Being the sick one was the easy half of the deal, really. She would not let him be torn apart by this. She’d rather have him hate her than go through it.

  “Come here,” she said, smiling, wanting him to smile back at her. “Make me forget my head hurts.”

  Make me forget what comes next.

  They made love, a little circle of carpet the only thing between them and cold tile. Gregor handled her with great gentleness, like she was a blown egg.

  They took their time. When she was ready she guided him in and they rocked together in a quiet pool of pleasure, dragging it out as long as they could. It was impossible to say who went first. They climaxed together, the shock waves passing through his frame direct echoes of her own, their kisses in the aftermath more tender than she would have ever thought possible.

  In that moment she understood she could love Gregor Faustin. A man who could kiss her like that was a man who could have her heart. Too bad her heart wasn’t worth keeping.

  It was more than she could deal with that night. So tired she was sick from it, she begged for sleep. He carried her to bed, where she returned to the blackness in his arms.

  Gregor woke because he was cold. She was missing from his side, but the sheets were still warm. He leapt out of bed, found the bathroom empty, caught her scent and strode out into the sleeping club, his feet sticking to gunk that coated the floor at the end of every night. It was pitch dark, but he saw her right away, his night vision outlining her in tones of gray and silver. She was all bundled up, had her lunch pail in her hand, and was making her way haltingly across the floor.

  “Madelena,” he shouted. That was a mistake. He should have snuck up on her.

  She sprinted for an emergency exit, which was probably only visible to her as a glowing red sign. He ran after her, but she was too close to the door. Being a smart human, she threw herself against the latch bar, and the door swung open, spilling a long rectangle of sunlight across the floor. Gregor had to leap back to keep his toes from getting burned.

  He put one hand up to protect his eyes from the brightness. “Don’t go.”

  “I have to.” All of the strength and laughter that he loved in her voice was gone. Her breath came in heavy gasps.

  “Tell me why you’re doing this.”

  Madelena did not answer for a few heartbeats, then she said, “One night is all I ever wanted, Gregor. I said that from the start.”

  Her shadow passed into the bright world and the door swung shut.

  “You are lying!” he screamed after her.

  It would be okay once she was home. All she needed to do was get home.

  One thing at a time.

  Maddy stood in the street outside Tangiers, squinting in the weak morning sun, trying to orient herself but seeing nothing but brick walls and steel doors. She didn’t know the meatpacking district at all, didn’t know where the nearest subway stop might be. The street was all locked down and devoid of life. She was lost.

  Gregor’s scream still echoed in her ears. She thought about turning around, pounding on the doors, crawling into his arms, begging his forgiveness.

  So he can drive you to the hospital? See you hooked up to a respirator? Watch—

  Clammy with sweat and sick to her stomach, she headed roughly northeast and hoped for the best. How she found a station, she did not understand. She just stumbled on a stairway down and followed it. Like a drunk, she trusted the universe to take care of her sorry ass, and it worked.

  At her transfer station she had to climb stairs to get to her next train. Fucking Mayan temple stairs. Endless. Halfway up she had to stop to rest, her lungs burning, each breath painful. Commuters swarmed around her, buffeting her as they squeezed past, some of them bitching at her. I am an obstruction to progress, she laughed to herself, plaque in the subway’s arteries.

  Once at the top she learned she had to turn around and go down a new flight of stairs. Sadists designed the system. She’d often thought so, but now she was convinced. Halfway down to her platform she heard a train coming in, saw it was her beloved number seven train. The thought of waiting for the next one was more than she could stand. Desperation gave her a burst of energy and she stumbled down the stairs and across the platform, shoving herself through the doors just as they began to close.

  Maddy grabbed a pole and pressed her cheek against the cool, smooth metal. It was so hard to breathe. Home, Jeeves, she thought to herself. The train heaved and she went dizzy. Instead of passing, the spell turned into pure vertigo. She fell into an open seat and dropped her head between her legs. Her stomach twisted and heaved, but it was empty.

  “You okay, ma’am?” A hand touched her shoulder. She turned her head to see a kind, black face, a clean-cut young kid in a natty suit and a skinny retro tie. Nation of Islam? Or was this some new fashion statement she didn’t know about? Every detail about him mattered a lot, somehow, from the crack in his lower lip to the starched points of his collar. He was a very beautiful, a unique soul. And so kind. She smiled at him, wanting to reassure him, because she loved him. She loved everyone.

  And funny enough, she could not breathe.

  It’s happening.

  The floor rose up to embrace her. It felt good. Almost as good as snuggling in bed with Gregor.

  At the dark, fringy edges of her consciousness she heard a woman’s voice. It sliced through the warm static filling her brain.

  “Don’t worry, I’m a doctor.”

  Fuck.

  Chapter 8

  Gregor slammed his fist against the steel door, furious that he could not follow her. Furious at the sun.

  “Liar!”

  His scream bounced off the walls and echoed like a ghost in the empty club. A white rectangle of light danced across his retinas. He dug his palms into his eye sockets, trying to make the burning image go away, but that only made it worse.

  “Fuck!”

  He was going to lose her.

  “Goddamn motherfucking shit!”

  He gave her a half hour to get home, then called her. When she didn’t pick up, he pled with her answering machine, feeling like an idiot. “Madelena, talk to me. Call me.”

  An hour later he did it again. Then he swore he’d hit himself over the head with a hammer before
he did it a third time.

  A vampyr needed to sleep by day, more than a human needs to sleep by night. His body knew when the sun was out and shut down in response. As Gregor turned cold, his thoughts became increasingly sluggish and depressed. Maybe she wasn’t lying. He had to admit that she’d never shown any interest in him beyond sex. In fact, she’d warned him off repeatedly.

  Maybe she didn’t like him at all.

  Maybe he’d convinced himself that he wanted her because he believed it was inevitable. Under normal circumstances he’d never put up with her bullshit, that was sure as hell. The whole thing felt like a curse, a spell gone wrong.

  Everything was wrong.

  And he was so fucking hungry he could suck on a rat. He had to sleep. Then he could hunt. Then he could think. So he anesthetized himself with several shots of vodka and sealed himself in his bedroom behind a triple-walled sliding steel door. The bed sheets reeked of their sex. He fell into a light, troubled sleep.

  When he woke he dressed and stalked grimly into the street. It was just dark. He took the first person he saw, some hipster kid plugged into his iPod. Gregor hauled him into an alley and drained him as far as he dared. Well, maybe a little further than that. No one was getting off easy that night.

  The sour blood made him wretch, but he swallowed because he had to. He wiped the kid’s memory of the bite and shoved him out of the alley.

  The first feeding did nothing more than give Gregor the strength for a second feeding. For this one he went all the way to Central Park, because he needed to run in the woods, to hunt, to be wild.

  He climbed a tree and squatted on a branch, scanning for a likely prospect among the evening runners and dog walkers. Maybe Mikhail was right. Maybe this was the best way to feed. Maybe this was the best way to interact with humans, period.

  A female runner jogged past his perch, her breath labored in the cold night air. The fact that her ass looked a little like Madelena’s might have had something to do with his choice. He dropped from the branch, silent as a dream. In three long strides he caught up with her and spun her off the path into the bushes. Instead of stunning her right away, he let her fight. She kicked and struggled and screamed against his palm. He only held her closer.