Burning Skies (30 page)

He smiled as he thrust, carefully at first; then he steadily increased the pace until she was barking her pleasure between sucks and murmuring inside his head,
Oh, God,
over and over.

It had been a long time since a woman had taken his vein, over two hundred years. Yes, he’d taken some veins in between, but all those women had been mortal and couldn’t return the favor. He had forgotten the sex of it, the pleasure of it, the feelings of oneness, of communion, to be the one allowing the invasion, giving the most essential life fluid. He caressed her buttocks and groaned. He was so close now and she had grown tight, a sure sign she was ready to take flight herself. And he knew exactly what she was doing when her right hand crept around his waist and slid beneath his back.

His balls tightened a little more. He wanted her to do it.
Yes,
he sent.

Oh, shit. Her fingers found a ridge, just one wing-lock, and she began to rub.

Havily. Shit. Are you ready? Because what you’re doing is going to take me the distance.

A moan was her only response, her mouth working wildly at his neck now. He took that as a yes and increased the pace, his hips bucking, his cock thrusting in and out. She dragged a nail over the ridge. He cried out and before he could warn her he began to come but she was ready. She finally released his neck and arched over him, rising up, staring into his eyes, then capturing his mouth with hers. She moaned at the same time, and he could feel the grip of her core pulling at him as he spent his seed.

He surrounded her with his arms and held her tight as he thrust his tongue into her mouth. She dueled with him. Her body continued to buck and pull at him and his orgasm spun out like a wild ride at Six Flags. So, shit.

After her body quieted, she pulled back—but only far enough to then fall against him, her arms spread out on either side of him. He chuckled. He held her close and his pecs flexed against her chest. She cooed her pleasure. He kissed her neck, her cheek, her beautiful red hair.

Your blood is like heaven, my dear man.

God, I love you in my head.

Ditto. That was … just … amazing. You’re amazing. You’re so damn strong. When you were powering into me. Oh. My. God.

These words couldn’t have pleased him more. He pushed her back then rolled her carefully so that they were still connected. For just a few minutes, he wanted to be on top and to look at her.

Her gaze fell to his neck and touched the spot over his vein where she’d taken him. Withdrawing the fangs left behind a healing potion that sealed the wound. With the quick healing of Second Earth, what would have been a bruise would be little more than a pair of small red marks in an hour and nothing within the space of another thirty minutes. He moved over her and pressed into her mons. She responded by tightening her muscles, holding his cock tight. He chuckled. “It’s like we’ve been married for years.”

She smiled and huffed a sigh. “I loved being married. I was looking forward to being married again.”

He nodded and ran his finger down her cheek and over her lips. “To Eric.”

“Yes.”

“Did you love him, Havily, really love him?”

She smiled but her eyes tightened. “I did. I fell hard for him. I hadn’t expected love to find me again.”

“Did he take your blood as I have?”

She looked at him, her hands now stroking his shoulders, her thumbs lower as she rubbed his pecs back and forth. “You’re not going to get jealous, are you?”

He shook his head. “Just wondering.”

She huffed a sigh. “Well, I was nervous at first, either direction, but yes, we exchanged blood. He was my first, my only, until now. It was … extraordinary. What about you?”

“Yes, I mean no. I mean, I’ve taken blood in the last couple of centuries but I’ve not had a woman at my neck since I left Second Earth.” He stroked her hair and kissed her cheek, her chin, then lower to press his lips against her throat. “I loved it. I truly had forgotten how wonderful it could be.”

He felt dizzy suddenly, as though he stood on top of a tall building, peering over the edge. He let himself drift forward and he fell. Yes, he was falling, that was the sensation he felt, falling and falling but there was no ground to hit, just an infinite abyss full of pleasure, ease, comfort.

What did it mean that being connected to Havily made him feel like this?

He spun the mystery in my head

My heart cried out

My soul rejoiced

Tendrils of euphoria

Removed every hesitation

—
Collected Poems,
Beatrice of Fourth

CHAPTER 13

Fabulous, hot, steaming water broke over Havily’s shoulders, and she let out a soft moan. Bathing on Vancouver Island in 1910 meant building a fire and heating water on top of a coal-burning stove. The good old days had nothing on water heaters and indoor plumbing. Hallelujah for a hot shower.

She breathed and breathed, the moisture of the shower a relief from the dry desert air. As she lathered, her head wagged back and forth.

With every molecule of space Marcus took up in her life, with every millisecond she was with him, the bond was growing. She could feel all those tendrils weaving through her body and tightening his hold on her, and he wasn’t even doing it on purpose.

Earlier, she had tried to tell him that she didn’t want to be near him and then she had stroked his wing-locks. What an idiot. But it was clear that even though her mind might be able to make sense of things and shoot off warnings every now and then, her body was completely in control.

Memories jostled her as she rinsed off.

She had taken his blood.
She had taken his blood.
Her knees buckled in the shower and she only just caught herself from falling.

His blood, oh-my-God, his blood had been incredible. She could feel it now singing through her veins. The power, the sheer power of taking blood felt as though light and heat vibrated within each muscle of her body, warming her, opening her heart, even her mind.

And the sex? Once more her knees weakened, threatening to send her down to the tile. Even if she could make a rational decision to stay away from him, just how was she supposed to do that when right now, if he busted through the door, she’d just open her arms wide and take him inside?

*   *   *

Parisa had awakened to the sounds of sex, beautiful throaty sex in the room opposite. She was both embarrassed and aroused. The shower had been running off and on for some time, so she supposed the latest round was over.

She sighed heavily as she sat up and slipped her legs over the side of the bed. She adjusted the black silk since it had gotten caught between her legs. Her body was heated, her mind distressed.

What was this place she had come to?

Second Earth. A new dimension. A place where wings were normal, which meant she was normal.

Lace curtains covered the window. A thick lawn spread out to a considerable distance. If she understood where the villa was located, she was looking at the eastern slopes of the White Tank Mountains. Same earth. Different dimensions. Even the place-names were kept the same to avoid confusion.

Her brows rose as she crossed to the window. She pushed back the curtain and found a deer on the lawn, long neck extended, munching happily. On earth—Mortal Earth—she knew that deer lived in the White Tanks. Therefore, that would also be true here on Second Earth.

But how out of place the animal looked on a manicured lawn. And what a lawn! Very few homes in Phoenix had lawns like this anymore, water being the scarce commodity it was, despite the underground rivers. Maybe resources were apportioned differently on Second Earth.

The doe lifted her head, her ears swiveling. Something had disturbed her and she bounded away, in the direction of the mountains.

Parisa felt like that, ready to run. She was torn about her experience so far. In one sense, she knew she belonged here, despite evidence of a serious war. But another part of her, so used to earth, longed to go home, to live in the comfort and safety of her known life. She wondered how soon she could go back to her house, when it would be safe for her.

She sighed. What was she even doing here?

In strong contrast with her deliberations and confusion, her stomach rumbled. She put her hand to it and smiled. “Well, at least you always know what you want.”

*   *   *

After the night’s fighting and a brief conversation with Thorne at the Cave, Medichi folded directly to his personal suite of rooms at the southernmost end of his villa. Thorne had informed him that he had guests—Marcus, Havily, and the mortal-with-wings, a woman by the name of Parisa Lovejoy. He thought he’d get cleaned up in case the women were around. They really didn’t need to see him covered in a night’s worth of blood spatter.

He had delivered Leto’s message to an incredulous Thorne. Trouble at the Ambassadors Festival in three days. Actually, two now. So, shit.

What he didn’t understand was what Leto meant by giving them a warning. Could he be trusted? Who the hell knew? He would leave it to Endelle and Thorne to figure this one out.

The only thing he really did understand about Leto’s warning was that he had to keep a lid on it, as in a deep mental shield so that anytime a powerful entity—like that prick-of-all-pricks, Greaves—decided to do a mind-dive without Medichi’s knowledge, he wouldn’t find out the truth, at least not from him. If for some reason Leto was having second thoughts about his defection, or if his conscience had returned, Endelle’s administration could use all the help it could get.

As he folded his battle gear straight to Murphy’s Laundry on Union Hills and Cave Creek, Second Earth, the fine establishment that kept his uniforms in top shape, he moved into the shower. Ten years ago, when he’d seen the bathroom overhaul in Kerrick’s basement, he’d hired the same contractor to outfit his shower with a similar fine array of eight heads. Damn, he liked a good shower.

He turned all of them on full blast.

Heaven.

Fucking heaven.

He turned in a slow circle, letting the water beat on him from every possible angle, which brought a heavy sigh rumbling out of his chest. The resulting intake of air, straight through flared nostrils, however, popped his eyes open.

What the hell was that scent? He’d been through citrus groves that smelled similar, especially if you took an orange, punctured and peeled the skin, then sucked at a juicy wedge.

Only it wasn’t the scent of an orange exactly. He breathed in again. Nope, not oranges. More like tangerines.

He laughed. Why the hell would his house smell like tangerines?

He had a cleaning service on call, the Merry Ascenders, but they wouldn’t have installed Air Wicks without letting him know. Although the smell pleased him so much he might just make a phone call and see if the company made a tangerine scent. He laughed again.

He laughed until, as he continued to breathe the fragrance in, over and over, he started getting
aroused
. What the fuck?

Whatever.

He shrugged, palmed his cock, and stroked a couple of times. He really liked the sensation, especially coupled with the tangerine fragrance. Talk about erotic. Then he remembered that he had guests in his house and somehow jacking off in the shower then greeting everyone bugged the shit out of him. Even then, he wasn’t sure why.

Pressure formed in his chest and a deep profound longing ensued, the way he’d started feeling when Havily was around.

Goddamn, he needed a woman. What he wanted was someone he could bang on a regular basis without any emotional commitment, date on a casual basis, someone he could get to know but not care too much about. This showing up at the Blood and Bite in the evenings and chasing a piece of mortal tail around hoping to take some of the edge off had gotten about as thrilling as plucking nose hairs.

He shampooed his long warrior hair and used a crème rinse, which made him less than a man in his opinion, but if he didn’t, his ritual long hair was a bitch to keep in the equally ritual
cadroen.
He had thick hair, and yeah, he had to work to keep it in shape.

Every once in a while, though, the scent of tangerines struck his nostrils and yeah, each time, his cock responded as though hit with punch of Viagra.

Sonofabitch, what was that?

He needed to find the source and get rid of it. Otherwise he’d be walking around with a hard-on and scaring his guests.

He released a heavy breath and turned in a circle, letting all that beautiful water pound on his skin. Finally, he hit the lever. He stretched his hearing to see if anyone was up and about. In the distance, two women talked and laughed together.

“Do you smell that?” the unknown female said, the mortal, no doubt. Parisa. She had a confident way of speaking, and something about the tone of her voice eased the pressure in his chest. “It’s stronger now. I mean really strong.”