Fury's Kiss

Page 33

It was like we were part of the music.
The magic that had the garden in thrall had pulled us in, too, adding us to the beat without missing a note. Our pounding feet, our laughter, even our thudding pulses—everything fed into the melody, as if it had been intended all along. As if that was how it had been written.
And then it changed, slowing from vibrant energy to a thrumming, heavy rhythm that shivered up through my feet, raising goose bumps over my entire body. The other would have been hard to transcribe, to take all the myriad sensations and put them on a page. This would have been impossible.
No notes could capture the feel of Louis-Cesare tensing and relaxing against me, the slow grind of skin on cloth and skin on skin that I swear I could feel everywhere, even the places where we didn’t touch. Or the hand on my hip, guiding us both, or the chest warm and hard against mine, or the open-mouthed kiss that stole my breath before giving it back, all in time to the beat of the music.
I’d like to blame it on the magic, but it wasn’t a spell that had my arms looping around his neck, drawing him into another slow kiss, or my body arching against him, with every shift of our muscles sending sparks up my spine. It wasn’t magic, although it felt a bit like it. But this was better, pushing back to see eyes dilated dark and hungry with real emotion.
My arms had been around his neck, but now they dropped so my hands could stroke through his hair, my nails skim down his cheek, before pulling away, fingers twined in his. I drew him out of the flickering circle of light, and into the darkness under a small group of trees. I didn’t have to pull very hard.
The trees were ornamental and not very big, but one was a willow and gave good shade. And I decided that was good enough. I pulled Louis-Cesare into its shadow, and the next thing I knew, I was pressed against the trunk, a hungry vampire licking a stripe up the side of my throat, sucking a kiss below my ear, catching the lobe between his teeth.
I drew in a sharp breath, but it wasn’t a vampire bite. It was the nip of a human lover who had lost a bit of control, and that was okay. I was feeling a little reckless myself. Or maybe more than a little.
My hands ran up his chest, ghosting over ribs and pecs and skin too fine for a soldier. He pulled back, just long enough to strip the sweater off, before attacking my neck again. And whether by luck or design, he’d found exactly the approach I liked best.
It was part of why I’d been attracted to vampires in the past; the edge of danger, the knowledge of what they could do adding thrill to thrill. Louis-Cesare wouldn’t hurt me; I knew that. But he could. A senior master that close? Inside my defenses? I groaned and hooked a leg around him, drawing him closer.
His body was heavy, and huge and warm. None of which was news. The guy was well over six feet tall, and solid as a rock. But it felt like news, felt new, with all that strength pressing against me, all that power thrumming from his skin into mine.
And that was before the images hit.
His mouth crushing against hers, parting her lips in a bruising kiss that she returns with equal intensity. His hands on her waist, unzipping those so-tight jeans, the ones he swore she wore just to drive him mad. Fingers gentle on her thighs as he strips the material down, the heat of her mouth fading as he follows it, dropping to his knees, nimble fingers sliding beneath her underwear and pausing to caress her tautness. Before stripping them away, too. And then the sweet wetness between her legs, chased by his tongue, feeling her back arch off the tree, hearing her come with his name on her lips…
I blinked and snapped out of it, panting and breathless. And unsure what had just happened, since my jeans were still on. “I…what was that?”
Mischievous dark blue eyes met mine as my shirt fluttered to the ground. “I am the waiter tonight, am I not?”
It took me a second, but I got it. “And that was the menu?”
“For the first course. Unless mademoiselle has another preference…”
“No, I think…I think that will do fine,” I said, my voice a little high. Maybe because my bra had just been unhooked and warm lips had begun licking a trail down to my breast. Where a wicked tongue circled a taut nipple with agonizing slowness. I started to ask if this was the appetizer, but it was lost in the groan when he finally took the aching nub into his mouth. And then flicked his tongue back and forth until I was panting in approval.
I am…definitely going to have to compliment the chef, I thought wildly, and pushed into the sensation.
He laughed. “And to think I almost did not come back.”
“Come back?” I repeated blankly, before I remembered. I’d been on the phone with him when Scarface showed up. He’d been at the house.
“I thought you would be asleep,” he murmured, scraping the barest edge of fangs along delicate skin.
“W-where did you go?”
“I am currently able to tell you everywhere to purchase condoms within a five-mile radius,” he said wryly.
“You went looking for me?”
“After our conversation terminated so abruptly? Of course.” He slid across to the nub’s neglected twin. “But unlike you seem to believe, I cannot read your mind at will, particularly at a distance. And Claire had no idea where you had gone.”
“We always go to Singh’s.”
“Yes. But it is linked to this house by a portal and you had taken your car. I therefore assumed—”
“I don’t like portals.”
“As I discovered…eventually. I called Claire when I could not locate you, and was informed that you had just arrived back here. She also told me something of what had happened, but she did not know details.”
“But…that must be two hours ago. Where did you go in the meantime?”
“To obtain the details,” he said, coming up for a kiss.
I splayed a hand on his chest. “What?”
“I merely went to his house—”
I blinked. “Whose house?”
“Zheng-zi’s.”
“You went to Scarface’s house?”
“Scarface,” he mused. “It is a good name for him. At least, for now.”
“What did you do?” I asked—fearfully—because the last thing Louis-Cesare needed was to get into another unauthorized fight. Especially with someone heavily favored to become a senator. Who would then be in a position to cause him a world of hurt.
“Tell me you didn’t attack him.”
He smiled grimly. “The temptation was…severe. But judging by appearances, you had already taken care of that.”
“So what? You just went by to say hello?”
“I went to inform him that the next time he duels you, I shall stand as second.”
“Then he won’t duel me!”
“That was rather the idea,” he said, starting to frown. As it finally registered that something was wrong.
And it was; I just didn’t know what.
It wasn’t like I wanted Scarface out there, dogging my footsteps, waiting for another chance. And my win tonight had been about luck as much as skill, and luck was a fickle bitch who didn’t always like me much. I should be pleased that Louis-Cesare had handled this in a way that worked for everyone.
It was a diplomatic feat worthy of Mircea. I got protection, Louis-Cesare avoided strike three with the Senate, and Scarface didn’t lose any more face than he already had. Because no one wanted to duel Louis-Cesare. That was a death sentence and everybody knew it. No one would blame Zheng for backing off.
I should be happy. Hell, I should be thrilled.
So why was I so angry that my hands were shaking?
It felt almost like it did before I tipped over into Hulk mode. My breath had started coming faster, my heartbeat had become a visible pulse around my vision, and my fangs had dropped, piercing my lower lip. But it was different this time, too.
A minute ago, the fey camp had been shrouded in shadows, the only people really visible those in the fire’s stuttering ring. But suddenly I could see everyone, even those who, like us, had already disappeared into the shadows or snuck away into the tents. The fey were blinding columns of white; the humans darker, redder, more varied. But all were perfectly visible, the heat rising from their bodies giving away their location as accurately as a searchlight.
I didn’t have vision like that. I never had. But it was hard to concentrate on it with anger surging through my veins.
“Your eyes,” Louis-Cesare said, his voice sounding far off even though he was right there.
“My blood,” I snarled, my voice going guttural, my hands digging into his flesh. “My kill.”
“Dorina—”
“Dory, I’m going to bed,” Claire said, coming through the trees. “Can you check—”
She stopped dead, to the point that it looked almost like she’d run into a wall. And I don’t know what she saw, but the next second she was running at me, even as I was trying to back away. I didn’t want anyone to touch me, not even her. I was afraid, because I didn’t know what was happening. And I was angry, so fucking angry I could barely see.
And then the landscape flooded red, like a bucket of blood had been splashed over a camera lens. And oh God, that wasn’t good. Claire grabbed my arm, but I barely felt it, the usual calming current of her power all but lost in the gathering storm.
“What did you do to her?” she demanded, whirling on Louis-Cesare.
“I made a mistake,” he said, his voice hollow. Or maybe that was me. Sounds were distorting, too, magnifying. A girl’s laughter from near the fire, some wood popping, tiny shush-shushings of wind rustling the trees—all were equally clear, equally audible. The garden was suddenly deafening.
“What kind of a mistake?” Claire said, her voice harsh. “What did you do?”
“I…It is difficult to explain to a human—”
“Try,” Claire gritted out, exerting real power now, trying to pull the rage off me. But this time, for the first time, it didn’t work. Or, rather it did, I could feel it leaving my body, like a hot wind pouring into the blessed coolness of her being, pouring in and being absorbed. But while that usually left me pale and weak and very, very calm, tonight it was barely noticeable. Just enough to keep me on this side of sanity, fighting and clawing and teetering on the very edge.