Blood Kin (25 page)

“Where are you going?” I demanded. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

He chuckled. “Just trying to take these off.” He stuck his thumbs in the waistband of his drawers and pushed them down slightly. Trouble was, with his erection standing proudly, they were never going to slide down willingly.

I rocked up to my knees and reached to help him. “Buttons,” I said. “Buttons are important.” And cooperative. They slipped free and so did he. Hard male flesh bared to my gaze and grasp.

“Sweet lords of—” I broke off, remembering his request. “All that’s holy,” I said in the end, and wrapped my fingers around him before he could remonstrate. “Come here.” I slid my hand up, then down, then back up.

He sucked in a breath. “Holly, if you keep doing that, I won’t be able to move at all.”

I lifted my hands. “All right. I’ll behave. Or misbehave rather. If you care to join me?”

“Don’t mind if I do, at that.” He reached out and pulled me closer effortlessly. Strong, this man. I wasn’t small, but he could lift me as if I were no more than a feather. It made me feel protected somehow. And powerful, knowing that right now all that strength and power were focused on me and that I could bring him to his knees with a touch if I chose.

Of course, he could pretty much bring me to mine the same way.

I wrapped myself around him and pulled his head down to mine, pressing my mouth to his to taste him again. It made my head spin and the room sway and I almost didn’t notice that we were moving. By the time we broke for breath, I was lying on my back once more and Guy was above me with nothing between us this time. He liked being on top.

Fine with me for now, but later, I’d see how he liked the tables being turned. I had no illusions that having him once would be enough. It was going to be a long night if he lived up to my expectations. I smiled at the thought.

He looked half-dazed as our eyes met. As if he weren’t quite sure what he was doing there. I decided to remind him and hooked a leg around his thigh, pulling him closer still. I ached for him. I’d had enough of kisses and caresses. Crazy, given we’d barely started. Usually I’d want to take my time, but right now all I knew was the fact that I wanted him inside. Wanted to know him in that primitive way. Wanted nothing between us at all.

“Veil’s eyes, Guy,” I said desperately, “I want you.
Now
.”

He laughed then, long and low, and slid himself against me. It wasn’t enough. We could do slow and teasing later. Now I needed him, needed his weight against me, and his hands on me, and him inside me. I arched my hips, changing position. “I said now.” And angled myself over him.

He slid home and I felt a satisfied wash of pleasure that went all the way down to my bones. Guy groaned.

“Don’t be gentle on my account,” I whispered in his ear before biting it none too softly.

“Whatever my lady commands,” he said, and then he moved. Fast. Strong. And oh so right. Heat flared and bloomed between us until the lights behind my eyes turned red and I couldn’t think anymore. Couldn’t do anything but move with him as he took me—as I took him. Fast and hot and hard, both of us gasping and struggling to get closer, nearer, deeper.

Pleasure built and washed and built, over and over, until suddenly, one of us—I couldn’t tell anymore who—cried out and one last wave took me and broke over us so I came screaming his name.

* * *

When I woke, the room was mostly dark, only the faintest light coming through the window. The other side of the bed was empty, no warm male body filling it. I struggled up, trying to work out what time it might be. I didn’t feel as though I’d slept very long. We’d been busy, my Templar and I. My body stilled hummed pleasantly from the aftermath. “Guy?” I said softly into the darkness.

There was a rustle from the direction of the window. “Did I wake you?”

My vision adjusted to the darkness as I turned toward the sound of his voice. He stood near the window, the faint outline of a man, head bowed. “What are you doing over there?”

“Sorry, old habits die hard.”

“Old habits?”

“We have dawn services every day. I’m pretty much programmed to wake up at this hour.”

Damn. He hadn’t been just standing there; he’d been praying. He’d climbed from my bed after we’d spent hours doing things I didn’t think his God approved of and he was standing in the dark, praying. Offering up whatever it was he offered.

“Do you want some light?”

His head turned to me, his face a pale blur. “No. Go back to sleep. I don’t need the light to do this.”

That seemed wrong somehow. I’d dragged him into my world, into the darkness—and likely would drag him deeper before we were done—but that didn’t mean he had to be cloaked in it. I fumbled toward the small table at the side of my bed, found matches, and lit a candle.

The bright flame made my vision blur all over again. I squinted until it cleared. Guy wore just his shirt and gray Templar trousers. His feet were bare. I swung mine down out of bed and carried the candle over to him, wrapping the sheet around me as I walked. “Here.”

He took it and nodded. “Thank you. But I’m nearly finished.”

“But it’s not dawn yet.”

“I don’t think God minds if I’m a bit early.” His mouth quirked. “And what the brothers don’t know can’t hurt them. It’s the same as being on a campaign. Pray where you can and let God worry about the rest.”

I cocked my head at him, not believing him. He’d given me peace last night. Peace and pleasure in the darkness of the bed we’d shared. But now, with the light, reality came creeping. Along with guilt and worry. “I disturbed you. I’ll go back to bed.”

His hand snaked out, caught my wrist. “You could join me.”

“I don’t think we pray to the same God.” Religion wasn’t something that occupied much of my time. As far as I could tell, the gods weren’t that interested in me either.

“Praying is praying. Father Cho would say all gods are the same.”

“A lot of people would disagree with him. The entire Fae race, for instance.”

“Well, the Fae are peculiar, we all know that.”

I didn’t point out that I was half Fae. “So are you.” It didn’t matter if he thought I was odd. He was never going to be a permanent fixture in my life. This could only be a temporary interlude. Some snatched moments of pleasure. Before the darkness caught up with us both. I shivered, knowing the cool dawn air wasn’t entirely to blame.

His hand loosened. “You’re cold. Get back into bed.”

“You must be cold too.” But I’d yet to see him show any sign of noticing the weather. In bed, he’d radiated heat—almost as much as a Beast.

“Are you trying to distract me?”

“Would it work?”

“Perhaps. There aren’t usually any mostly naked women around at our dawn services.” He was smiling properly now.

“I’m sure there’s a good reason for that.”

“Yes. It seems they’re distracting.”

First I’d made him pray in the dark and now I was distracting him from praying at all. If his view of the world and what came after was the correct one, then I was probably in for some trouble. I climbed into bed and pulled the counterpane up around me. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Distraction is a choice.”

“That sounds like Templar talk again.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t have to focus when you’re doing what you do.”

He had me there. I was good at ignoring whatever wasn’t important to accomplish the job at hand. But right now what
was
important if I was going to accomplish anything was the man standing by my window. I needed to understand him better. I knew him physically but he was still a mystery.

The Fae say that you can’t use a tool properly until you understand it. I didn’t want to think I was using Guy, but I couldn’t claim to be completely innocent in that regard. Then again, neither could he.

So, understand the man. Come to grips with what he was. A Knight Templar. A holy warrior. Someone who believed in God and redemption and all the things I had no time for.

“You’ve gone quiet,” he said, not moving from the window. “Did I say something I shouldn’t?”

“No.” I pulled the counterpane closer, letting my chin rest on the soft velvet. “Just thinking.”

“That’s rarely a good sign.”

“What, women thinking?”

He laughed. “I have no problem with women thinking. My mother and sisters are cleverer than I am.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I meant that a lover sitting in bed telling you she’s thinking is not usually good news.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about the fact he’d had enough lovers to have learned that particular lesson. And that was very much the pot calling the kettle black. It wasn’t much of a reach to think that I had probably had more bed partners than a man who’d become a Templar at seventeen.

“You think I’m going to throw you out of bed after only one night?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” In the candlelight his eyes seemed very blue as they watched me. Waiting for my verdict perhaps?

“Well, those particular females must’ve been crazy.” Or possessed of a better sense of self-preservation than I. “Anyway, I wasn’t thinking about that.”

“What were you thinking about?”

I glanced at the candle, watched the flame dance for a few seconds. “Why did you become a Templar?”

“Why did I become a Templar or why do I believe what I believe?”

“Are those two different questions?”

“Maybe. Sometimes. But the latter is often what people want to know when they ask me about being a knight.”

I cocked my head. “Both. Either. You decide.”

His brows lifted. “You want to talk theology?”

“It seems appropriate. If you’re usually in church at this time of the morning, then anything else would be vaguely . . .”

“Sacrilegious? As I said, I don’t think my God cares when I pray.”

“Are you avoiding my question?”

“No. Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m curious. You didn’t have to do this. Your family is wealthy. You could have been anything. Or done nothing. Yet you chose to do something dangerous because of your belief in one God. I don’t understand it.”

“God? Or choosing to believe.” He set the candle in its holder on the windowsill and settled himself onto a nearby chair.

“Both. But the first seems to be a subject we’re unlikely to agree on. Tell me why you dedicated your life to danger when you didn’t have to.”

“Is that the only reason for doing something? Because you have to?”

I pulled the covers tighter. Different worlds, this man and I. “For doing something dangerous, it’s the most compelling reason.”

“You’re a spy. That’s dangerous.”

“Do you think I’d be a spy if I had had a choice?” Would anybody? I risked my life doing what I did. Traded terror and danger for cold, hard cash. Guy did it for devotion. How could he understand?

“I don’t know. Would you?”

“No.”

“Yet you chose to become one.”

“I had to.”

“There are other ways to earn money.”

“That’s easy for someone with your background to say. Try being poor in the border boroughs. See how far that gets you. My mother was a whore. Not many people tend to give you a chance when your mother sells her body for money. Of course, Madame Figg would have given me a chance to follow in Mama’s footsteps.”

“So you made a choice because you didn’t like the other options?”

“Yes.”

He shrugged. “So did I.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t know how to explain it. But I looked around me and I saw things in the world that weren’t fair. Or good. Or just. People getting hurt.”

“You could’ve been a doctor or an advocate.”

“Did I mention the thought of being locked up in school for years made me want to punch somebody?”

“Yet you chose to be locked up in the Brother House.”

“Not exactly. It’s not being locked up if you want to do it. I wanted it.”

“Why?”

“Because it felt right. I knew this was how I could make the world a better place. Save it.”

“Save it for humans, you mean.”

“We’re the most vulnerable. But no. I don’t wish the Fae or the Beasts ill. I can’t say I’m crazy about the Blood, but if they obey the rules, then I’ll leave them alone too. But if they hurt those I want to protect, then they’re fair game. As other humans would be too.”

“God wants you to protect people?”

“That’s what I believe, yes.”

“By killing others?”

“By keeping the peace. And yes, sometimes by bringing others to justice.”

Or delivering that justice, as far as I could tell. A Templar’s sword was an executioner’s sword. If he killed, it was in the name of his God and no one would gainsay it. No one human, at least. “By giving your life?”

“If that happens, then yes. But believe me, it’s not something I want to happen. In fact, I’ve spent a good deal of time learning how to make sure it doesn’t.”

“No one can make sure of that.”

“You can be the best you can be. Minimize the risk. Surely you understand that. After all, you climb about on rooftops and consort with the Night World. That’s not exactly taking the safe route.”

“I don’t plan on doing what I do forever.”

His eyes sharpened, he leaned forward. “Neither do I.”

“Templars don’t retire.”

“No, but neither do they actively fight all their lives. Eventually I guess I’ll be a commander.”

“Or the Abbott General”

“Bloody hell. I hope not.”

“What would be wrong with that?”

“Too much politics.”

Templar was an interesting choice of occupation for a man who didn’t like politics. After all, part of the reason for their existence was to enforce the treaties the politicians negotiated. But best to leave well enough alone for now. I turned the conversation to a slightly different path.

“And what about life outside the order?” This was skating perilously close to things that it was dumb to ask a man who’d spent a total of one night in your bed. Most men would construe it as a question about families. Or marriage. I had to admit to a reasonable amount of curiosity as to what Guy’s views were, but it was a dead-end discussion. He and I were strictly temporary.