Bond of Darkness (42 page)

"Sex? Sometimes it can be." He stood perfectly still, his muscles absolutely relaxed. "When we start dancing, our center of gravity will be through our solar plexus—not our shoulders and definitely
not
our lungs. Try to remember that."

"Not our lungs?" She tried to imagine it. "But at a rock concert—"

"We'll do something different. This is here and now." He was tracing delicate circles on the small of her back, while his breath warmed the top of her head. Her fingers eased into his hold, instead of squeezing them.

"The waltz has a three-four beat. Just hold yourself upright, while keeping your shoulders steady, and follow me." His voice was soft and gentle, totally believing in what he said.

"Ohkayyy." She could trust him, she knew it after going through La Lujuria under his guidance. This had to be easier than that.

"And—one." He stepped forward, the movement conveyed through their bodies more easily than through their hands, and she stepped back.

"Two." He drew his feet together, settling into place, and hers gratefully echoed him.

"Three." His foot, not the one he'd started with, slid to the side. Hers leapt to follow, sending her skirts flaring.

Good girl
, he crooned.

She blinked, startled by how easily she'd accomplished the moves and how feminine she'd felt.

"Let's do that again," he announced.

She nodded, her head whirling, and followed him a little more easily the second time, ending up exactly where they started. Her skirts whispered around her ankles and his buttons rippled down the outside of his legs. His shoulder was strong under her hand, its shape warmly familiar—bone under the layers of muscle and tendon.

Her stiff spine relaxed, not needing to hold itself separate. His familiar scent seeped into her nostrils and she sighed, happy again. It had been too long since she'd been close to him.

His voice deepened and dropped, settling into a note barely discernible from the music. "One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three…"

She danced with him in their little square, one step on each side, humming the count. Her eyes closed and her spine loosened even more. Their breath seemed to pass in a continuous loop from his lungs to her lungs and back again. He speeded up a bit but she didn't need to grip his shoulder harder, since she was perfectly poised between his hands. His legs brushed hers and she adjusted her movements accordingly, until their cores were once again balanced, allowing their feet to be only a few inches apart.

She was dancing a real dance, waltzing like a princess.

Their feet were moving easily together, her dark red pumps a delightful contrast to his shiny black boots. His hands were warm but no hotter than the steam bellows of their breath passing from their lungs through their mouths, back down again to leap between their ribs. Perfect, absolutely perfect.

She closed her eyes, humming a little, building the joyous bubble brighter and brighter insider her.

He extended his stride, moving out a little faster. They dipped and glided more, her skirts dancing with them like a third partner now…

Metal thudding down both legs with the music's beat.

They were flying across the floor like birds, laughing for the pure joy of it. The music repeated itself but who cared about that? She could have done this for days.

Ethan tightened his grip on her waist and they reversed direction, sending fabric into a dizzying swirl but changing his trousers' silver coins to a syncopated rhythm.

"Da-dum," she thumped his shoulder, marking the exact instant they settled into the older, more predictable beat.

Ethan broke stride for a moment and she stepped on his feet. His eyes flashed open, as vividly gold and possessive as any hunting cat's.

She shivered, but not from cold. She couldn't imagine what had triggered it but she was more than eager to satisfy her creador's hunger.

"Just a few minutes more, darling," he purred, his grip subtly tighter.

She leaned a little closer, her skin suddenly crackling with heat.

A few bars later, the orchestra swept to a triumphant close. Ethan twirled her out before him and she curtsied, while he bowed—and the room erupted in cheers. Only three couples had finished the dance—Don Rafael and Grania, Jean-Marie and Hélène, Ethan and herself. All the guests had unanimously withdrawn to sidelines to watch and now they heartily applauded the wedding part)'.

Steve blushed and moved closer to Ethan.

The throng advanced fast and hard on the bride and groom, giving her a chance to escape with Ethan. He cut his way out using more efficiency than politeness, never stopping to apologize for any feet he might have stepped on. Steve simply gripped his hand and stayed close.

He yanked open the door to a withdrawing room, Hélène's succinct description for a small chamber containing a chair, sofa, table, and vivid picture of the Calatrava golf course. It had probably been originally designed for assignations but was now used just as often for phone calls, hence its guarantee of privacy from all the security forces here.

He slammed the door shut behind them and stared at her. "When you hummed 'da-dum,' what were you listening to?" he asked very carefully. His face was almost terrifyingly calm.

She frowned. Why was he asking the obvious?

"The botonaduras, the coins along your legs, Ethan. When we changed direction, they sort of shimmied before they settled back down."

"You couldn't have felt that on your own, Steve, because your dress's fabric is so thick. Only I could." He was completely pale, his eyes brilliantly green. "But I could feel the velvet flirting with my ankles, which my wool trousers and boots should have prevented."

She gaped at him. "How could we feel each other's sensations? Isn't that only for cónyuges, something that takes years and years to create between two people?"

"It means we
are
cónyuges," he corrected. He caught her by the waist and drew her up to him.

She rested her hands on his biceps, uncertain how much she should agree with his explanation.

"What was I thinking on the dance floor, hmm?"

"You were happy," she stated with complete certainty.

"Why?"

She hesitated, unable to voice the only explanation which came to mind.

"Come on, darling, why?" He chucked her under the chin.

"Because I was so relaxed? But that's silly!" she wailed.

"Two people can't dance a fast waltz well together unless every muscle is completely relaxed—which means full trust, something cónyuges must also share. Could you have given me that before you went to Gilbert's Crossing four years ago?"

"No." She worried her lower lip, gaining his fixed attention. Heat hummed through her skin.

"We've had more than sixteen years together," he pointed out.

"True." She cocked her head to one side. "Tonight I could have counted all of your buttons with my eyes shut, which should mean something. But—
cónyuges
?"

The implications were dazzling and wonderful. Ethan as a part of her soul forever?

"Loving you forever has never seemed long enough to me. Even when you pulled me over for speeding, I knew you were special. I hated it when you said good-bye and went off to Gilbert's Crossing to find a husband."

"Fred was nothing," she protested, "and he's guarding Chihuahuas now."

"Fred could give you more than I ever could—children. I wanted to kill him."

Her heart turned over at his anguish, even though its source had been years ago. She kissed his chin. "I love you. I'll always love you."

He pulled back to meet her eyes. "You've never said that before."

He was right and she'd hurt him because of it. "I've thought about it," she offered, sliding her arms around his neck and openly yielding her heart to him for the first time.

"But we've never had the words before." He tilted her chin up with his finger. "I love you, Stephanie Amanda."

For the first time, she truly identified with that name.

"And I love you, Ethan."

Their lips met in a long, sweet kiss, sharing everything between them. Lip to lip, their arms locked their bodies together until their hearts beat. Everything that she was, everything she could be—would be better with him. They'd have forever to share, while working to make Texas better.

Grania wiggled again, probably seeking a position which didn't put any strain on her bruises.
El pobre pequeña
, Rafael had enjoyed her long and hard—although she'd enthusiastically participated and, in fact, encouraged him. Even so, she was barely more than a cachorra and a vampira mayora could have claimed fatigue after their wedding night.

Their bedroom had been spectacularly transformed into a white and gold bower of roses and silk. He'd selfishly given her little time to admire it before he pounced. Now it was closer to sunset than to noon.

He lifted her up on top of him, offering his own body for her comfort rather than the crushed sheets. She yawned and slithered over his chest, settling herself more comfortably. Even his cock was so sated it barely twitched at the delectable caress of her silken thighs.

She pillowed her head on his shoulder and he gently stroked her back. He could do this for centuries and still enjoy naming her every vertebra, every muscle, every ligament…

"Have I told you recently how much I love you?" she asked sleepily.

"Not in the past—" He craned his neck to look at the clock.—"Ten minutes,
sonrisa de mi corazón
."

"Giving your vampiros a loophole is wonderful." She kissed his shoulder. "You're a great man, Rafael."

"Loophole?" His wife's adoration was delicious but the sound of this particular reason made him uneasy.

"Oh, you know, what you said when Ethan brought Steve home. If a fellow's got an intended who's good for Texas, he can introduce her to you and ask for your blessing."

Had he truly left that impression? A suitable
novia
, plus his blessing would allow one of his vampiros to give El Abrazo? Of course, the creador would still pay with his own life for his hija's misdeeds—but still!

"This will make your men so happy and help Texas, too." Her breath was warm, barely stirring his skin. "You just keep coming up with new ways to make me love you.
Amarte con siempre, no sería suficiente
."

"Loving you forever doesn't seem like long enough," he agreed and kissed the top of her head. Perhaps he could live with the loophole. After all, it wasn't likely to be tackled any time soon. "
Te adoro
, Grania."

"And I adore you, my vampiro."

My deepest thanks go to Darlene Dunn of the Travis County Medical Examiner's office for providing a detailed summary of their caseload. These statistics gave me a vivid picture of the Travis County ME's office and helped me "flesh out" my killers' modi operandi.

Like many books,
Bond of Darkness
needed many people's knowledge to come alive. Special thanks go to Camille Anthony, Raven McKnight, Susan Millard of the Dallas Police Department, Rae Monet (Federal Bureau of Investigation, retired), Margaret Riley, the fabulous experts on Yahool's Weapons Info loop, Karen Woods, Lt. Michael Woodcock of the Spartanburg County Sheriff's Office, Viki, and Willy—the warrior from many millennia—who helped me in so many arenas.

Terminology used in the Texas Vampire universe is taken whenever possible from medieval Spanish, supplemented by modern Spanish. The only exception is that patrones are given an honorific appropriate to their or their esfera's ethnicity, e.g., don in Texas, madame in New Orleans, lord in England.

Adalid
. "Leader; champion." The leader of a commandery and its compañía. Usage based on medieval Spain, where an adalid had to be sponsored by his fellows before he could be appointed by the king to command a mounted troop. Adalid comes from the Arabic
al-dalil
, or guide.

Adoro
. Adore, as in "
te adoro
." (The statement, using the second person, informal form of address.)

Alferez mayor. al-FEH-reth
. Military commander-in-chief, overseeing all warriors in an esfera. Usage based on medieval Spain. For example, Rodrigo Diaz, the Cid, was named as alferez by Sancho II and commanded the Castilian army. Alferez comes from the Arabic
al-faris
, or knight.