Cursed: Brides of the Kindred 13 (11 page)

“Certainly not,” he said dryly. “We procreate in much the same way you humans do. It would take something much more…intimate than a kiss for me to make you pregnant.”

“Okay, good.” Charlie felt a cautious sense of relief. “But then what was it you injected me with?”

“My essence. It comes from my fangs—see?” He opened his mouth and pointed out two sets of long, curving double fangs on either side of his upper teeth. They looked wickedly sharp and a small bluish droplet was clinging to the point of one set.

“That blue stuff? Is that it?” she asked, trying not to shudder.

He nodded. “Blood Kindred use it to heal their mates of any obvious wounds. But in this case, you received an incomplete dose of it when I kissed you and accidentally cut your mouth—your tongue. Instead of healing a wound, it caused the one I gave you to remain unhealed. It may even be worse than when it was first made.”

“It
does
feel worse,” Charlie admitted. “But what can you do about it? Is there some kind of medicine or—”

“The only medicine—the only thing that can heal the wound—is more essence.”

Unconsciously, Charlie had been leaning towards him. Now she drew back.

“Wait---you’re saying you want to bite me again? Huh-uh—no way!”

“Not bite you,” he protested quickly. “I simply have to bathe the wound with more essence. When you receive a complete dose, you should heal almost immediately with no problem.”

“So you want to what…kiss me again?” Charlie raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well…” He shifted uncomfortably. “Not a kiss exactly. But I would need to lick the wounded area in order to spread my essence there. It shouldn’t actually take very long.”

“The ‘wounded area’ is my tongue,” Charlie pointed out. “You’re asking to lick me there—that’s a kiss.”

He shrugged, his broad shoulders rolling with the motion. “Call it what you like. I made the wound and my essence is the only thing that can heal it. You can ask Commander Sylvan if you like—he is also a Blood Kindred and can tell you I am telling the truth.”

“I don’t think you’re
lying
, exactly,” Charlie said slowly. She got the feeling that Stavros was one of those excruciatingly truthful types. “I’m just saying it sounds damn awkward—that’s all.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he promised quickly. “If you’ll let me, I can heal you in less than a minute, I promise.”

“Well…” She looked at him uncertainly. But then the throbbing in her tongue got even worse. If he really was telling the truth—and she thought he was—this pain wasn’t going away and the wound wasn’t going to heal. She could just imagine how it would feel the next time she tried to drink a glass of cold lemonade or eat anything with tomatoes in it. “All right,” she said at last. “But I want to brush my teeth first—my mouth tastes like blood.”

“There are bathing and oral hygiene facilities in the fresher,” he said, pointing to a door she assumed led to a bathroom. “I will wait for you.”

“Fine. Thank you.”

God, had she really just agreed to kiss him
again?
What was wrong with her? She didn’t have an answer.

With as much dignity as she could, Charlie climbed out of the high hospital bed and went into the bathroom, holding the hem of her hospital Johnny tightly closed behind her. She would worry about it later.

Chapter Eight

Stav waited impatiently for her to finish in the fresher. When he heard the water running loudly, he realized that she must have decided to take a shower as well as cleaning her teeth. A glance at the chronometer strapped to his wrist told him the special briefing was still forty minutes away so he had time to wait. But he didn’t want to. Didn’t want to wait to taste those sweet lips again.

It’s not a kiss—you’re just healing her,
he reminded himself sternly. But his aching shaft and throbbing fangs didn’t want to listen. Over and over he kept reliving the feel of her in his arms, the warm, sweet taste of her mouth. The way her lush breasts had pressed against him and the way she’d kissed him back so passionately.

It wouldn’t be like that this time, he knew. It would be cold—clinical. He would taste her for only the briefest possible time in order to heal the cut his fangs had made. Then he would release her and leave her room and probably never see her again since the Kindred High Council was sending him on some kind of secret mission.

But still, how he wanted to taste her mouth just
once
before he went.

You’re being an idiot,
a little voice whispered fiercely in his head.
She doesn’t like Kindred and even if she did, even if she wanted you, you couldn’t have her. You can’t claim a bride and form a soul bond with anyone—remember?

He did remember—how could he forget?

But that didn’t stop him from wishing.

* * * * *

Charlie stepped out of the shower and dried herself on the weird blue bath towel hanging on the rack. It didn’t seem to be made of terrycloth or any other material she’d ever seen and when she wrapped it around herself, it dried her instantly, sucking away every drop of moisture from her skin. It didn’t dry her hair completely but she didn’t mind. She put it up in a ponytail again, using the small pack of hair scrunchies someone had thoughtfully provided.

The same someone had also washed and folded her clothes and provided a brand new toothbrush and toothpaste as well. Charlie felt a hundred percent better as she got dressed in the clean pink t-shirt and black yoga pants. Even the little black ballet flat slippers she’d been wearing were clean.

She would have looked around to see if there were any tampons available as well, but she had noticed in the shower that she didn’t need them. It appeared that her period was finished almost before it had started. Though she was glad to have it over, she couldn’t help wondering if Stavros’s intervention might have something to do with it.

His essence…that blue stuff I saw on his fangs…could that have done it?
She shivered a little when she thought of those sharp double points on either side of his mouth. Though she generally scoffed at romance books, she’d always had a secret weakness for vampire stories. Especially the kind where the hapless heroine can’t stop herself from offering her neck to the bloodthirsty but handsome vamp.

What would it be like, baring her throat for the beast? Feeling those sharp fangs sink into her tender flesh…?

She shook herself out of the semi-erotic fantasy angrily.
Stop it! What’s wrong with you? You can’t be thinking of him that way—he’s not a vampire and he’s not some dark, brooding hero in a silly romance book! He’s just a prisoner who escaped and dragged you onto his home turf. Not only that he’s a
Kindred.
Don’t fall for his crap, Charlie—these alien bastards can’t be trusted and
you know it.

Yes, after what had happened to Missy, she knew it to the marrow of her bones.
Oh Missy…
On her tombstone it said her real name—Miranda Jane Sayers. But when Charlie was little, she’d been unable to say “Miranda.” She had started out calling her sister “Sissy” but that had gotten mixed with her name and it somehow came out as “Missy.” And Missy was who she would always be in Charlie’s heart. The sweet, gentle girl who had wanted to be a vet because she loved animals. The girl who died too soon because…

Still lost in thought, she squirted some toothpaste on the brush and stuck it in her mouth without thinking.

“Ouch!” she gasped when the minty paste assaulted the cut on her tongue. She spit frantically and turned on the tap, scooping cool water into her mouth to try and calm the burn. In her haste she knocked a glass off the counter with her elbow and it shattered on the stone-tile floor at her feet.

Behind her, the bathroom door flew open, revealing Stavros with a worried look on his face.

“Hey!” Charlie protested, drying her mouth on the towel. “What do you think you’re doing? I don’t know how your world works but in mine, the bathroom is
private.
”

“I heard you cry out and then a loud crash. I thought you had fallen and hurt yourself in your weakened state.” He came to her, his boots crunching on the broken glass. “Are you well?”

“I’m
fine.”
She didn’t know whether to be exasperated or flattered by his concern for her. “And I’m not weak. It’s just this stupid cut—I got some toothpaste on it and it
really
burns.”

“I need to heal you.” With no warning, he scooped her up in his arms.

“Hey!” Charlie exclaimed again. “Put me down!”

“You’re barefoot and the floor is full of broken glass.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you certain that’s what you want?”

“All right,” she grumbled, giving in with poor grace. “Take me out, then.”

“As you wish.” He carried her out of the bathroom and then settled on the side of the bed, still holding her in his arms.

“You can put me down now.” Charlie’s heart was pounding—she wasn’t sure why. “I mean, I really am fine.”

“No you’re not. You’re wounded. And I must heal you.”

The look in his eyes was beyond intense as he cupped her cheek.

“But…” Charlie started to protest, her heart pounding.

“Open to me.” His voice had gone deep and soft and commanding. “Open and let me heal you, Charlotte.”

“I…” But further words of protest seemed to die on her lips as he bent her over his arm and sealed his mouth to hers.

Charlie gave a little gasp as she felt his lips press gently but firmly to hers. Then his tongue was there, tracing the seam of her lips, seeking entrance. She wanted to pull away and cuss at him—tell him he had no right. Instead she felt her lips parting, allowing him in when she knew she shouldn’t.

He’s just healing me,
she told herself desperately.
It’s not really a kiss.
But it certainly felt like one, especially when his tongue entwined with hers and he sucked gently, as though inviting her to explore his mouth as he was exploring hers.

Charlie gave a helpless little moan and took his unspoken invitation. God, his mouth was so
warm
and he tasted like cinnamon—cinnamon and some exotic mint she’d never had before. She could feel the edges of his fangs but this time he somehow managed to keep from cutting her with them even when the tip of her tongue danced dangerously over their razor-sharp points. The kiss went on and on and his dark, spicy scent filled her senses until Charlie felt like she was drowning in him, being completely consumed from the inside out.

At the tips of her breasts her nipples were tingly and tight and the place between her legs was getting hot and wet and tender in a way that made her want to press her thighs together. She could feel the hard ridge of his cock under her ass, just as she had the first time they kissed and she knew Stavros was being affected too. God, if he didn’t stop soon she was going to—

Suddenly he pulled back and pushed her gently but firmly off his lap.

“What…?” Charlie looked up at him, uncomprehending. Her lips felt swollen from the intense kiss and her entire body was still throbbing with desire.

“You should be healed now.”

“I should what?” she asked stupidly.

“Healed. You should be healed now.” His deep voice sounded slightly strangled and the ridge of his cock in the tight leather trousers looked achingly hard but he made no move to reach out to her. For a moment, she couldn’t understand why. Then she remembered that the point of the kiss hadn’t been a kiss at all but only to heal her tongue.

She rubbed the tip of it experimentally against the back of her teeth and was surprised to feel no pain. She didn’t taste blood anymore, either—just the cinnamon/mint flavor of Stavros.

“I
am
healed.” She looked at him uncertainly. “Completely healed. How did you do that?”

He shrugged. “I told you---my essence. My body thinks I am preparing to take you as a bride and so it reacts accordingly.”

“Oh, I…I guess that’s good.” For some reason her cheeks were hot and her heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

“I am glad you are well,” he murmured. “But now I must go.”

“What, just like that?” Charlie blurted out without thinking.

He frowned. “I have the briefing to attend. Do you wish me to stay?”

“I guess not.” She sounded uncertain, even in her own ears. “I mean, of course not. You have to go so go.” She forced herself to straighten up and stop acting like a love struck teenager. “I’m fine now. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said gravely. He stood, straightening his immaculate uniform shirt. “Well, it appears I must bid you goodbye.”

“Only until after the meeting, whatever it is,” Charlie pointed out.

“Actually, I probably will not see you again—I think I am being sent away on a mission.” He looked down, obviously troubled. “It’s likely to be dangerous. I may not return at all so I must say goodbye to you now.”