Demon's Hunger (31 page)

Her mother thought she should feel angry, betrayed that he hadn't told her what she was, hadn't told her he suspected she was the succubus killer. Of course he had suspected her. Vivien was certain of it. But could she blame him?

It didn't matter now.

"You didn't know," she exclaimed. "Why do you assume
he
did?"

Araminta shrugged. "He fed you. He had to know."

He fed you
. Vivien's gaze slid again to the smoking pile of demon sludge that hissed and bubbled on the concrete.

"Do I need to kill to feed?" she breathed, terrified of the answer. "Do I need to take so much from him?"

Araminta pressed her lips together and shrugged. "No."

With a shudder, Vivien forced herself to continue. "Do I need to do this often? To feed often? To feed from"—she stared at the demon's remains—"things like that."

"You need feed only once a year. More often if you like. And you can feed from anything with a life force, even mortals."

She had so many question, but only one really mattered right now.

"Dain's magic—How do I give it back to him?" she asked, her tone tight and high.

"Why would you want to give it back?" Araminta looked genuinely puzzled.

"How do I give it back?" Vivien yelled. "Tell me how to give his magic back."

Drawing herself up, Araminta inhaled sharply. "The same way you stole it."

"Dain?" Vivien smoothed her hand along his cheek. His eyes were closed, his arm cradled across his belly, the jagged edges of the compound fracture poking through muscle and skin and the sleeve of his coat. He was so pale, with lines of pain and fatigue etched on his face.

His body shook uncontrollably, from shock and from the bitter wind swirling down on them.

He didn't answer, and choking fear clawed at her as she pressed her ear to his chest. There was a steady beat there, but, God, what should a sorcerer's heart sound like?

Horror and despair tore at her. She had done this to him, almost killed him.
She had done this
.

She was a succubus.

The realization was horrific, and at the same time it was almost a relief. She'd known something was wrong with her, desperately wrong. In a way, it was better to have a name to put to it than to wonder and worry blindly.

All those years, her mother telling her,
You are your father's daughter. You have nothing of me in you. Nothing
. Her mother had been looking for Vivien to come into her power, she realized, and when it didn't happen, she'd thought Vivien was mortal. A disappointment. Oh, God. Right now, she
wished
she could go back to being a disappointment.

Because look what she'd done to Dain.

She felt as though she would break under the burden of shock and sorrow. There was no enemy to hate, no one else to blame.
She
had done this.

Which meant… she could fix this. Her mother had said she could give him back his power the same way she had stolen it. Having dropped that bombshell, Araminta had turned and walked away, leaving Vivien on her knees in the frigid slush beside Dain's insensate form.

Her mother had simply left her there, and for once, Vivien didn't care. She would ache for this later, dissect the horror of her mother being a succubus, a murderer. No, she could not deal with that right now.

All she cared about at the moment was getting Dain somewhere warm and safe, somewhere she could make love with him and give him back what she'd taken. What he'd allowed her to take. What he'd offered her freely so she could survive. The magnitude of that gift overwhelmed her.

Swallowing, she looked around, trying to focus on a plan, her panic threatening to engulf her as she stared at Dain lying before her, eyes closed, lips blue. He was alive, but she had no idea how long he would stay that way. He wasn't healing, and he wasn't conscious.

Cold resolve washed over her. If she was to help him at all, it wouldn't be like this, on her knees, drowning in useless remorse.

She needed to get him out of here.

She needed to get him somewhere she could give his magic back.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she whispered. Could she drag him to the car if she hooked her hands under his arms? The car seemed a million miles away. "Dain, open your eyes. Help me. I need you to help me."

"Vivien" he paused, exhaled "I'm so damned tired." With a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan, he opened his beautiful eyes, blinked, focused on her. He offered a weak smile that tore at her heart. "And you're okay. I told you it would be okay."

"Dain, you need to tell me what to do. What should I do? Take you to a hospital?"

He wet his lips. "No…"

Suddenly, she remembered that night on the terrace, how he'd just disappeared after saying something about the roof. And again, how he'd just appeared before her that morning, clad in black boxers and nothing else.

Could she somehow do that disappearing trick too?

If she had his magic inside her, could she do that? Could she carry them both to the loft?

How? How to do it?

Analyze. Categorize. Evaluate.

Urgency gnawed at her. She needed to figure it out. She was out of time.

She had his power; she just needed to draw on it, use it as she had earlier when she'd knocked the demon back.

Desperate, she called up the fury and fear she'd felt as the demon had attacked Dain. Using those emotions, she dredged up the state of mind that had triggered that terrifying burst of energy. She needed that power, that magic. She needed it
now
.

Wrapping her arms around Dain, she closed her eyes, imagined the demon coming at them, recalled every nuance of her fear, her horror, her need to protect him.

She
felt
it, the pulse of magic, warming her from within like the dawn, light touching darkness, swirling, gliding, a bright pain. Tamping down her panic, she focused on the strange hum in her nerves, her veins.

She could do this.

The pain that came at her was a shock. It hurt, God, it hurt, tearing her in two, but through it all, she held Dain tightly, locking her arms around him, holding on to the fear and despair and hope, willing the power to come to her and flow through her.

She heard hard, drumming rain and a boom of thunder, though she was certain it had been sunny this morning. The tang of the ocean drifted into her nostrils, and then the buttery scent of popcorn. She shook her head, confused, forcing herself to hold fast to the image of Dain's bed and the great bank of windows letting in the light. The scent of citrus and spice surrounded her.

Suddenly, she felt as though she'd been hit by a truck, thrown through the air to land hard against the ground. The breath was pushed from her lungs with crushing force. There was only the terrible pain, taking up every molecule of every cell, every thought, every beat of her heart. Still, she held tightly to Dain, felt him solid and real against her as everything else spun away to infinity.

She screamed, the agony almost more than she could bear. Reality splintered apart. She was everywhere. She was nowhere.

And then they were there, in his bed, their wet, slushy clothes staining the sheets.

"I did it," Vivien breathed, rearing up, then louder, "I did it. Dain, wake up, wake up." Her vision was blurry, and after a second, she realized she was looking through a haze of tears.

He moaned, blinked, opened his eyes fully, his beautiful gray eyes, dim with pain. Frowning, he glanced around, his eyes widening as he recognized their surroundings.

"Hi," she said, joy and relief flaring like a sunburst.

"How—" His voice sounded like a blender with a bent blade.

"Magic," Vivien whispered, coming up on her knees and laying her palms against his cheeks.

Dain shifted his big body, sucked in a breath. "Fuck, that hurts."

She glanced at his savaged arm, and tears clogged her throat. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm going to make you better, Dain. I'm going to fix this."

Leaning down, she pressed her mouth to his, but instead of taking, she gave, willed her heart, her soul, everything she was into him. A tingle touched her skin, prickling up like a thousand ants, through her veins, through her pores, from her into Dain.

Such a strange sensation.

Magic.

She drew back, stared down at him.

His gaze slid to hers, brighter now, clearer. Whatever she'd just done, she thought it had worked, at least a little.

"You—" The rasp of sound that came out of him was barely discernible. He swallowed, tried again. "You said you got us here by magic?"

She nodded, stroking his hair, wishing she knew more about all of this. "I just thought about your bed, and with everything I had, I wished we could be there. And here we are."

"Jesus, Vivien, you brought us through the
continuum
?" Something flared in his gaze—amazement, pleasure, admiration—leaving her uncertain of why he seemed so stunned. "You just thought us here, grabbed hold of a stream of magic, and we were here?"

"I suppose. I don't know. But I can tell you that it hurt. It
really
hurt."

"Yeah." The side of his mouth quirked in a whisper of a smile. "It gets easier with practice."

That smile sent relief surging through her, so clean and pure that she felt dizzy with the force of it. It was going to be fine. Everything was going to be fine.

She swallowed, reached for his belt buckle.

"Uh, yeah, Vivien…" He made a strangled sound as she popped his button through the hole and unfastened his zipper. "I don't think I can—"

"Don't think." His rejection sliced her. Maybe he wouldn't want her now. Maybe he was disgusted by her, because of what her mother was. A killer.

No. There was no place for that now. The only thing that mattered was getting Dain well. There would be time enough for discussions and accusations and heartbreak later.

She shook her head, laid her fingers against his lips. "This is the only way. I'm sorry. I imagine you don't want me to touch you. I don't blame you. But it's the only way to give it back, what I stole from you. She said I could give back your magic the same way I took it."

Dain frowned, swallowed, spoke with obvious effort. "You think I don't want you… Christ, Vivien…"

"Trust me," she pleaded. "I know how dangerous this is. I know that if I take too much, I'll kill you, but please, Dain, trust me. I won't hurt you. I swear it. I'd die before I hurt you."

His face twisting with the effort, he lifted his hand, wove his fingers through her hair, cupping the back of her skull. Something flickered in his gaze, something dark and tortured. "I'm not big on trust."

Vivien's heart shriveled at his words.
Not big on trust
. God, what could she do now? He didn't trust her not to hurt him, didn't trust her to—

"But I'll give it a shot. Love isn't worth a damn without trust, is it?"

Her heart stopped, and her breath stopped, and there was nothing but Dain. His words. His love. He
loved
her.

"Heal me, Vivien. Make me whole." His words were seductive, dangerous. "I trust you. I love you."

"Dain—" She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. How had this moment become her whole world?

"I love the way you say my name, like I'm everything to you," he said softly.

She knew what he was asking for. The words. The love. The emotion said aloud and set free, but she was afraid, so afraid. Everyone she loved left her.

Except Dain. He'd stayed. No matter what, he'd stayed.

Her gaze met his, and she heard the hard beat of her heart, fast and frantic, and suddenly she wasn't afraid anymore.

This was Dain.

For a mere instant and for an endless eternity, she had known him, dreamed of him, waited for him, her shadow-lover, faceless until Dain had come to her. He had been there, in her heart, all along. He had been there, and he had never left her.

"I love you," she whispered, letting her walls crumble as he had let his crumble, so brave.

With a groan, he dragged her down, put his mouth on hers and kissed her. Hot, wet, so deep and full, desire sank through her in a melting swirl.

She bolstered her weight up on her arms, keeping her body off his, desperate not to hurt him any more than she already had.

He didn't seem to care. He yanked her down on the bed beside him, his fingers twining in her hair, his kisses almost brutal in his hunger. Wanting the harsh, ruthless passion that he dragged from deep inside her, she opened to him, welcoming the thrust of his tongue and the feel of his rough stubble against her skin.

Something inside her shifted and surged, a feeling of euphoria and light and power, so keen it was almost painful. It flowed, twining about her muscles and bones, sweeping along her nerves, slick and smooth. Luscious.

She was burning, liquid heat, Dain's kisses and the feel of his body pressed to hers stoked the fire. Open-mouthed, tongue and teeth. She moaned, her power slicking through her and into him, joining them.

"Oh, God," she whispered, sliding her fingers through his impossibly silky hair. She was wet, swollen, so hot for him, she thought she'd come just from his kiss.

She needed him. Right now. As he needed her.

Closing her eyes, Vivien focused on the pulse of power inside her, on the strange and foreign glide of it. Pain and light and heat ramped through her. Terrifying. Tantalizing.

The thick, heavy length of his cock sprang free as she yanked his jeans open. Velvet-smooth skin slid beneath her palm, his erection so hard, pulsing, filling her hand.

His groan, a deep sound of pleasure, tore through her, and she wanted to suck him, take him in her mouth and make him come.
Later. Later
. Right now, she needed him inside her, needed him deep in her core, filling her.

She yanked her clothes off, awkward, desperate, the energy stored inside her pulsing in time with her fevered need. She wanted to share with him, join with him, her body, her heart, her soul.

Lying on his back, he watched her, eyes slitted and dark with passion. She struggled with his jeans, got them down a bit over his hips, gave up. It didn't matter. His cock was free, straining toward her, so broad and smooth.

She straddled him, moaning as she felt the heat of his cock touch her; reaching down, she positioned him, working the broad head of him into her. With a low cry, she slid fully down atop him, taking him inside her, the sensation screaming through her.