Текст книги "Blood Kiss"

Автор книги: J. R. Ward

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-six

Paradise finally let her feet drop to the mat, but she kept her grip on the chin-up bar. Her lungs were on fire, her shoulders and biceps were screaming, and there was a line of sweat working its way from the back strap of her sports bra down her spine. The cool thing was, though, she had learned that this woozy feeling was going to pass fast, and then she would be on to the next set of reps.

Glancing over at Peyton, she found him on the treadmill, and she was impressed. He was running like a bat out of hell, big body in perfect form, his head up, eyes unfocused but alert. She’d never pegged him for an athlete—then again, all he’d done was bong lifts before.

The question was, where was—

“Hey.”

As Novo came up to her, Paradise smiled. “Good job with those sit-ups. You did, like, five hundred.”

“Actually it was five hundred eighty-two. Listen, Craeg just left. He looked upset. Thought you might want to go help him with his problem.”

Paradise wheeled for the door, but stopped. “I don’t … I mean, it’s not like I know him.”

“Do any of us? And I’m pretty damn sure you’re the one he wants to talk to.”

“Why’s that?”

“Just a hunch.”

“Ah … okay, thanks.”

Heading for the exit, she glanced at the Brother Tohrment. “May I please be excused to go to the ladies’ room?”

“You got it, Paradise.”

Slipping out into the corridor, she looked left and right, expecting to find Craeg pacing or sitting on the floor. Nope. Everything was empty.

Her body cooled efficiently as she went farther down to the males’ locker room. Breathing in, she caught his scent, knew he was inside—and, sensing no hint of anyone else, she went to the metal door and knocked.

“Craeg?”

When there was no answer, she pulled the door open a little and saw nothing but a concrete wall. Heading in, she went around until she was in the large open area with all the lockers. Wow. Ten times the size of the females’ one, but without the couches and the nice place to sit down to do your hair and makeup. Assuming you needed to.

Man, she was so jumpy, she was talking gibberish to herself.

New level.

“Craeg?” she said more loudly.

There was the sound of running water—a sink, not a shower—and she cleared her throat. “Craeg!”

“What the fuck!”

And then there was more cursing until he marched out of a different section of the facility. Water was dripping from his face and his hands, and his T-shirt was damp around the neck.

“What are you doing in here?” he demanded, passing a palm over his wet hair, shoving the stuff back.

God, his eyes were amazing, so deeply set and such a pale blue. And his shoulders were so big. And his chest was– “Novo said you need help.”

“Novo said what?”

“She told me you—”

“No, no.” He whipped a hand through the air like he was erasing his question. “Why would she—” Craeg stopped. Then muttered something like, “I’m going to kick her ass.”

“Why?” Paradise frowned. “Are you okay? Do you need to feed some more—”

“No.” He jabbed a finger in her face. “And never again with you. Ever.”

Paradise recoiled. “I beg your pardon.”

“You heard me.” Shaking his head and pacing around in a tight circle, he focused on the tile floor. “Now will you get the hell out of here—”

“I have as much right as you do to—”

He glared at her. “You’re in the males’ locker room. So unless you sprouted a boom stick overnight, in fact, you do not have as much right as I do.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it.

And she was about to leave when he made the turn and came back toward her.

That was when she saw exactly what his “problem” was.

Instantly, her body responded—and as he tripped to a halt and looked at her, it was very, very clear that he had caught her arousal.

A curious defeat, one that seemed totally counter to his personality, suffused his face and dropped his shoulders.

They stared at each other for the longest time.

“You don’t have to say it,” she whispered. “I know you don’t want this. I know the timing is bad. I know … that the last thing either of us needs right now is a complication. But I spent all day thinking about you, and what’s the worst that can happen? Our bodies want … what they want.”

This time, when he pushed his hair back, his hand was shaking.

On her side, the trembling was in her legs, her arms, her torso. The full stem to stern bifta, as they said.

Craeg came at her slowly, as if he were giving her time to change her mind, back away, leave. Not going to happen. She stayed exactly where she was, tilting her head up so she could meet him in the eye.

“If I kiss you,” he growled, “there’s no going back. I might not fuck you right here, right now, but I’ll have you on your back the instant I get the goddamn chance.”

She had the sense he was talking crudely to get her to reconsider, and for a split second, she did—but not because he’d used the f-word. That just turned her on even more. No, her glymera-trained conscience sat up and hollered, all those morals and expectations and rules rushing into the forefront of her brain and dulling the lust. If she lost her virginity to anyone it would be a problem—giving it to a commoner? She’d be stained for life. Unmateable. A source of shame upon her father, her bloodline, her class.

On the other hand, aside from somebody like Peyton, she was pretty sure that no “proper” male would want her after she had been through the training center’s program, anyway. Even if she didn’t fight in the war, this kind of learning did not fit into the parlor-games sort of education females were supposed to have.

The solution, she supposed, was to never get hitched.

As the thought hit her, an intoxicating relief went through her entire body, the buoyancy so powerful, she had the urge to jump—and that was when she heard Novo’s voice in her head:

Why are you any different?

Locking onto Craeg’s hot eyes, she marveled at how the easiest solution was in some ways the hardest. But if she never got mated, then she was free to make choices in a way she’d never dreamed.

And it was on that basis of strength that she made up her mind.

Paradise was going to back down.

Looming over the female, Craeg could feel it in his bones. In spite of her arousal, she was going to come to her senses and save them both a world of headaches. She was going to size him up, with his huge body and his raging erection, and realize that she didn’t want the complications or the stress—

With an elegance of movement that terrified him, she lifted her hands and placed them on his shoulders—no, it was his pecs, because she wasn’t quite tall enough. Tilting her head even further back, he was momentarily stunned by how perfectly the ugly fluorescent light from the ceiling fixtures hit her fine features and the feathers of blond hair that had escaped her tie and lines of her collarbone.

“So kiss me,” she said.

In the back of his mind, he heard the sound of two Chevy trucks crashing into each other grill-to-grill.

Fuck. No backing down.

With a curse, he closed his eyes. Swayed. Realized that this was, in fact, going to happen.

Then he popped his lids back open and reached forward to touch her. Abruptly, he had a moment of awkwardness, as if he didn’t know where to put his hands—her shoulders? The sides of her throat? Her face?

The sex he’d had had always been rough and quick, the kind of shit you did with human women or vampire females who didn’t care who they spread for. Paradise was the opposite of all that—and that was the problem. As much as he wanted her, he wanted to do right by her.

Well, wasn’t he a fucking gentlemale all of a sudden.

With shaking hands, he ended up tracing her jaw with his fingertips, and as her lips parted, he eased his head to one side and closed the distance between their mouths.

Almost.

With a mere millimeter of anticipation separating them, he whispered, “Last chance.”

“I’m waiting.”

So he kissed her.

The groan he let out was a combination of starvation and submission, and in the back of his mind, he became dimly aware that there was a new scent in the air, something that was part and parcel of the heat between them, but a revelation as well.

Whatever, she was soft and sweet and hesitant and strong. Everything he’d imagined her to be.

Brushing his mouth over hers, he extended his tongue and licked his way into her. And that was when the whole restraint thing went out the window—with a surge, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in tight to his body, letting her feel him—even at the hips, where, in spite of the two releases he’d given himself in a bathroom stall before she’d come in, he was raring to go.

Oh, God, she was so much smaller than he was, but as her breasts came up to him and her weight shifted so she was leaning against him …

He knew that she was the one in control.

They kissed for the longest time, and it was not nearly enough—but some inner alarm clock went off and was loud enough to cut through the roar of his need for her sex.

Pulling back, he felt a serious shot of male satisfaction as he saw that her face was flushed, and her mouth open, and her breathing rough.

He tried to think of when he could get her alone, how they could find some privacy, where it could be.

“What’s your telephone number?” he asked in a guttural voice.

After she told him, she glanced around. “Do you need to write that down?”

As if. The seven numbers were tattooed on his brain.

“I’ll call you.” Another reason, aside from that whole pesky incinerated-by-the-sun thing, to be glad he was moving in here—he didn’t have a phone of his own. “At seven a.m.”

“To make arrangements to meet? I can’t go out during the day. My father would kill me—and I can’t sneak out. He’d know immediately.”

Yeah, he could remember what it was like living with family in a small house.

Craeg kissed her mouth once. Twice. “Just answer your phone.”

“I’m glad you want to talk.”

“I’m not after the conversation.” He let his eyes drift down over her throat to her breasts. “I’m going to teach you a couple of things.”

“Like what?”

Bending at the waist, he nuzzled her throat. “You know that ache you’ve got right now? The one between your legs?”

“Yes…” she whispered.

“I’m going to show you how to take care of that by yourself. And you’re going to make me come when I listen to what it sounds like.” He straightened and stepped back, nodding to the exit. “Go. Before anyone finds you in here.”

No reason to have her candidacy affected by this. There wasn’t a no-fraternizing rule that he’d seen on the application, but come on. This was best kept under wraps.

“Go on,” he repeated when she didn’t move.

She just stared up at him with wide, hot eyes.

Shit, all he could think of was taking her right then and there, standing up, her legs split wide around his hips, his cock buried so far in her, he had struggle not to black out.

“Go, Paradise.”

Finally, she turned away. Just before she cut around the concrete partition to the door, he growled, “Answer your goddamn phone.”

“I will,” she said. “Right away.”

Left alone, Craeg shut his lids. And wondered how in the hell he was going to make it ’til then.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Three hours later, Craeg was in the front passenger seat of a Hummer. Or nearly leaning out of it was more apt: As Butch drove him and Axe away from the training center’s underground parking garage, Craeg was bent toward the windshield, trying to make sense of the strangely blurry landscape.

“We got bad weather?” Axe asked from the back.

“Nope,” the Brother replied as they came up to an enormous, elaborate gate system that was like something out of Jurassic Park, all twenty-foot-tall concrete with huge metal bars and barricades that had to have electricity running through them.

Yeah, cuz the Brothers had already proved how they loved to play with that shocking shit.

Craeg shook his head. “You guys don’t fool around with the security, do you.”

“Nope.”

As they progressed through the thickly wooded territory, they came up to a series of stop points that grew gradually less and less fancy and obstructive. The last one was little more than something you’d find on an abandoned farm, a rickety “old” thing that turned out to be deliberately constructed to appear that way.

So smart.

When Butch finally emerged from a clearing and took a left onto a paved road, the bizarre blurring of the landscape magically resolved itself. But it was weird, Craeg’s eyes adjusted easily; his bearings did not. Were they heading west? East?

“You know where I live, of course,” Axe muttered.

Butch shot a dry look into the rearview. “No, not at all.”

The drive to wherever it was took about forty-five minutes, and all Craeg got out of the trip was a sense of how little he knew about Caldwell. Having spent his pretrans life at home with his mother, he hadn’t had the chance to get out all that much after his transition—because the raids had happened a mere six months later. And then following the carnage, after he had watched his mother and sister die and proceeded to learn firsthand about his father’s death, he’d gone through a period of intense crazy … then settled into a numb working schedule that had paid the bills and allowed him to find some shelter away from his parents’ house.

He hadn’t been back there since he’d cleaned everything up and buried the females of his bloodline along with the remains of his father—which he’d brought back from the aristocrats’ house.

God, his father. He’d loved the guy—and to find out that a male of such worth had died because a bunch of glymera types had locked him and every other servant and worker on the premises out of the safe room?

And people wondered why he hated those rich bastards.

“You want us to wait here, Axe?” Butch asked.

Craeg shook himself and saw that they’d pulled up in front of …

It was fucking Hansel and Gretel’s house. That was the only comparison he could pull out of his ass. In the glow from the Hummer’s headlights, the cottage was as quaint as a postcard, all whitewashed with a high peaked roof and curlicue woodwork under its eaves that was as intricate as lace.

“You,” Craeg blurted. “You grew up in that?”

“Yeah.” Axe popped his door open. “What’s the fucking problem.”

“Screw it, we’re coming in with you,” Butch announced as he killed the engine. “Mostly because I want to see all the Hummel figurines.”

Craeg was going to stay in the SUV, but then figured, That’s right, fuck it. What else did he have to do with his time?

Axe led them around to a side door that he unlocked with a copper key. As he went inside, the beeping of an alarm sounded, but that didn’t last as he shut things off at a keypad mounted on the wall.

When the guy hit the lights, all Craeg could do was blink like a cow.

“Holy Mary, mother of…” Butch muttered.

“He thought she was coming back, ’kay?” Axe bitched as he tossed his keys on a spectacular slab of butcher block. “He did this for my mother.”

Craeg had never seen so many red and pink roses in his life: The walls of the quaint kitchen were covered floor to ceiling with a paper dominated by the flowers and the green vine they were apparently growing on. And what do you know, the drapery over in the alcove and around the window over the kitchen sink was the exact same pattern.

“You stay here,” Axe muttered. “I’ll be down with my goddamn bag.”

The guy’s heavy footfalls sounded through the house, the thunder going up to the second floor and then drifting down from the rafters above.

“Look at this woodwork,” Butch said, as he ran his hand over the carved molding around one of the doorjambs. “Incredible.”

Craeg went to the carved table and sat down in a delicate chair that made him wish he hadn’t eaten so much for First Meal. Looking at all the workmanship on the crown moldings and doors, on the cabinets, on even the sills of the windows, FFS, he discovered that it all formed an organic pattern that echoed the vines of the wallpaper, twisting and turning elegantly and beautifully around fixtures and entries/exits. Varnished with a clear coat, the maple or pine or whatever it was glowed as only fine wood that had been finely worked could.

“The rest of the rooms have to be like this,” Butch said as he leaned out of the kitchen. “Yup. This is a masterpiece—”

Axe reappeared with a black duffel and a backpack. “On to the next—”

“Did you father do all this woodwork?” Butch asked.

“Yeah.”

“He was a fuck of a lot more than a nothing.”

“Can we go now?”

“Wait,” Craeg cut in. “Your father was a woodworker? Mine was a floor layer.”

“Oh, yeah?”

There was a pause as the pair of them locked eyes. “Did he die at Endelview?” Craeg bit out, naming the estate that had been raided that horrible night.

Axe’s dark expression went straight to pitch-black, in a way that made his tattoos seem sinister. “Yeah.”

“Mine, too.” Craeg searched the male’s face, wondering how much he knew about what had gone down there. Shit … it was horrible to realize that he’d handled the body of the guy’s father. Someone else had done the notifications to surviving family members, though. He’d been finished at that point. “Bad night.”

“Yeah.” Axe cleared his throat and looked away. “So can we go?”

“No,” Craeg cut in. “You two stay here while I go to my place. I’ll be right back with my gear.”

“You’re not taking much, then,” Axe drawled.

Craeg got to his feet and headed for that door again. “Don’t have much.”

The Brother called out just as he put a foot on the back stoop. “If you don’t return here in twenty minutes, you’re out of the program.”

“I know,” he muttered. “I know.”

As the bus trundled to a stop, Paradise picked up her satchel and got ready to shuffle out of her row.

“So are you coming to my house?” Peyton asked as he got to his feet. “We still have two hours at least, and Anslam’s coming to hang.”

Ducking her head so he didn’t see the flush on her face, she pretended to look for her phone even though she knew where it was, in the pocket of her parka. “I want to be home for my father.”

“Annnnnd that would be dawn,” he pointed out as he put his tinted glasses on. “Two hours from now.”

Okay, fine, but no matter what time it was, she wasn’t about to own up to the fact that all she wanted to do was watch the hands of the clock on her bedside table make their way around until the big one was on the twelve and the little guy was on the seven.

“Sorry, I have stuff to do. Call me?” Shit, she actually didn’t want him to, not today. “I mean—”

“It’s cool.” Peyton turned to Anslam. “You ready for some bong hits?”

The other male shot a snarky smile over. “Always and forever.”

As the pair of them went down the aisle, she shook her head and moved out of her seat. Guess some things were back to normal—and it was funny, with all the stress of the training, she couldn’t really blame Peyton for wanting an escape that felt good. Maybe that’s what she was doing with Craeg?

Talk about addictions. The way she felt around that male, when he looked at her, touched her, kissed her, was so amazing, she could see herself getting hooked on the buzz—thus the whole counting-down-the-hours thing. The trouble with all that, however, was that he wasn’t something that could be bought and consumed like pot, or ice cream, or wine. He was a separate, independent entity, and it was funny, the fact that he’d chosen to be with her, even if just over the phone, was part of the high.

He was picking her. Out of anyone on the planet—

Paradise stopped in the middle of the aisle. Something had fluttered to the ground and she picked the thing up with a frown. It was a picture, an old-fashioned Polaroid type, the kind with the glossy square in the center and the white matte part that was small around three sides and big at the bottom so you could hold it and write on it.

The image was so blurry it was indecipherable, something red and pinkish with stripes.

“Peyton, really,” she muttered.

God only knew what he was doing while he was high. He’d been known to rock some crazy, psychedelic stuff and try some really weird things—which, of course, he delighted in telling her about.

With the image in her hand, she shuffled down to the exit, thanked the doggen driver, and then opened her mouth to call for her buddy. He’d already dematerialized with Anslam, though, so she put the photograph of his bedspread, or his carpet, or his bathrobe, or his frickin’ martini in her pocket.

“Did you help Craeg with his little problem?” Novo said from the shadows.

Paradise turned as the bus headed off, stones crackling under its tires. “You lied about all that.”

“Did I?” The female smiled in the cold moonlight. “I don’t think I did. And I was right, wasn’t I. He needed you, and only you.”

With a flush, Paradise remembered Craeg’s body up against hers, his arousal pressing into her belly.

Not a little problem, she thought to herself. Not at all. It was big, and thick, and—

“Well?” Novo prompted.

“That is none of your business.”

“So prim, so proper. S’all good, though. Glad you kids had a good time. That’s what life should be about—and I figured that you guys wouldn’t get it together without some help.”

Paradise had to laugh. “You do not look like the matchmaking type, Novo.”

“I’m branching out.” The female shrugged her strong shoulders under her black leather jacket. “That’s why we’re all here, right?”

For a split second, Paradise was tempted to invite the female over. She’d never actually had a true friend. In the aristocracy, your social position determined who you were allowed to be seen with—and God knew none of the cousins she had had to make small talk with had been of much interest to her. Plus you couldn’t trust them. Females like that were competing for a limited group of highly desired males—which made them as cutthroat as a school of piranha.

It was The Bachelor times a hundred.

Besides, Novo kind of knew about Craeg, and that made Paradise feel less like she had anything to hide—and the female certainly seemed sexual enough to have had some experience in the seduction department. Maybe a lot of it. Opening her mouth, Paradise—

Remembered where she lived.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she mumbled.

“You’re not pissed off at me, are you?”

“No, I’m not at all.” As she blushed, she was glad it was dark and the tree canopy cut out most of the moonlight. “I’m kind of grateful, actually.”

Novo pulled another one of those shoulder squeezes of hers. “Have a good rest of the night and day. See you tomorrow.”

Paradise lifted her hand. “Bye.”

When she was left alone, she let her head fall back and looked at the stars. Then she moved her satchel to her chest, wrapped her arms around it and dematerialized herself.

Re-forming on the lawn in the exact place she had the night before, she was hoping to feel a little less foreign in familiar territory.

Annnnnd that would be a big fat Nope.

Striding up to the front door, she felt just as much distance as she had the night before. This time, though, the separation was tied to Craeg.

You know that ache you’ve got right now? The one between your legs? I’m going to show you how to take care of that by yourself. And you’re going to make me come when I listen to what it sounds like.

Just the memory of his deep, husky voice saying those words turned her body into a blast-furnace—to the point that she wanted to take her parka off even though it was forty degrees. And yet at the same time, she looked up to all those glowing windows—and wanted to vomit. The idea that she was going to get on the phone, and probably end up naked, while a male who her father wouldn’t approve of walked her through it all? In the room she’d grown up in? While her father was in the house? Females like her weren’t supposed—

“Oh, fuck that,” she muttered as she started walking for the door.

Life was too damned short, and Craeg was too damned hot for her to waste time feeling guilty when she was doing nothing wrong in the larger scheme of things.

Remember, she told herself. You’re never getting mated. You’re free.