Die For You (3 page)

“Don’t get snippy, Gage. And don’t try to tell me that you’re not aching to get the stink of sewer dwellers, wet werewolf, and blood out of your nose for a minute. You need the rest. I need the break. So when they release you, you can come voluntarily, or I’ll have pretty Nurse Jessica hold you down while I hypnotize you into submission. Deal?”

Gage tried not to scowl. There was no arguing with a century-plus-year-old vampire on a tear. Besides, since it was Jen who had saved him to begin with, the least he figured he could do was give in to a prescription that in the end wouldn’t bother him at all; spending time with his best friend and… whatever, if anything, else.

“Fine. But I’m not watching those fruity-ass reality shows you love so goddamn much. I have to draw the line somewhere.”

“Language, Roberts. All right, nothing but porn and wrestling it is.”

He beamed up at his partner. “And beer? And pizza? And those chips with the chili pepper you buy at the Spanish grocery?”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “No. You’re on high iron and health rations until you’re back on your feet.”

“Aw,” Gage pouted, fluttering his eyelashes.

“And you call me a girl.”

§ § §

Jensen’s country house was actually a beautiful beach retreat, all covered wrap-around porches and huge windows. It was a vintage place, with weathered wood and old-fashioned New England shore design raised up on storm pillars against the fury of the Atlantic during hurricane season.

While Jensen owned a large, private chunk of land with trees surrounding three sides and a secluded rock wall-lined beach at the back, he didn’t mind his neighbors coming there for a swim or to walk their dogs. While Gage was a city boy at heart, he had to admit that the vampire’s ironically sunny oceanfront property was a little piece of Heaven right here on the east coast. His body relaxed of its own accord as Jensen pulled his wussy little hybrid into the driveway.

Pretty or no, the ocean air was hell on a custom car, and Gage would rather pay a month’s salary for extra garage time in the city than expose his baby to the salt and wind. Normally he wouldn’t get caught dead or alive in Jensen’s fruity “I have to be frugal if I’m going to live forever” Prius, but considering Gage’s head still spun a bit every time he stood up or otherwise moved too fast, he figured he’d give in to the vampire’s nagging, and pretend he was riding in a Formula 1 race car or something.

He let Jen carry his duffle into the house, but he refused his partner’s offer of physical help to climb the ramp. Gage could gimp and shuffle up the damn thing all by himself, thank you very much. He was trying to convince himself this was a vacation, a chance to see what if anything might happen next between him and Jen, not a mandatory medical rest break.

He’d also rather think that what happened in the alley the other night had been about desire, not desperation, but he couldn’t get his way on that front either. Things were what they were, and denial was just a patina he painted on unpleasant things to help him slide through without turning into a completely bitter asshole or swallowing his Glock.

It took forever, but they finally made it into the house. The eclectic decorating style managed to be froofy, masculine, and comfortable all at the same time. Gage was a “futon and crate” guy from way back. He knew jack about the chatchkes and art all over the place, but he knew expensive when he saw it. He also knew worthless stuff that was probably sentimental. Both were in evidence.

Jensen Holm had been all over the world in his hundred-twenty-ish years, setting out from his family’s home in the west when he became a vampire to “go everywhere and see everything,” until he’d “had enough of that kind of life” and come back to the States, setting down on the opposite coast from where he was born. There was a lot of detail he never shared when it came to those years in between.

Gage was pretty sure there was a lot of it he really wouldn’t want to know.

But here in his partner’s house, with everything from a bull steer skull to a shining Middle Eastern scimitar, art pieces from at least a dozen artistic styles, and small folk crafts to elaborate marble statues, he could see more intimate hints of the complicated vampire he’d worked with so closely over the last six months.

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable while I put the groceries away? You want some tea?”

His continued exhaustion left Gage without much choice in the matter, so he took a seat in the deepest, softest leather couch he’d ever sunk into. Damn, this was a nap trap. He looked around the little conversation area with its free-standing fireplace at the center, and decided none of the other furniture was going to help him stay awake either. Squishy sleep couch it was.

“Tea? Seriously?” he complained.

Jensen gave him the same bland, “mind me or I’ll knock you out” look he’d been using since they left the hospital. He was better at henpecking than Gage’s mom had ever imagined being.

“Fine. Tea. Can you at least put some liquor in it?”

“Whiskey or brandy?”

That was a shocker. “Really? You’re going to give me hooch?”

“My folks believed in a good dose of medicinal alcohol, and I’ve never seen it go wrong when used within reason. You’re off your pain meds, so I don’t see why you can’t have a nip with your constitutional tea.”

Wait, that didn’t sound good. “What’s the difference between tea-tea and ‘constitutional’ tea? Is this a vampire thing?”

“There’s no blood in it, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Gage felt himself flush, remembering in a vivid flash the sensation of being in his partner’s arms, fangs tearing him open, blood rushing into Jensen’s mouth. The greedy, sensual sounds of drinking, an exchange of life force and death in one.

He just grumbled non-committedly and sipped at the tea when Jensen handed to him. Predictably, it tasted like horseshit—with really good Irish whiskey in it. He gulped it down, because more nagging from his freaking immortal nurse just wasn’t on his agenda right now.

Drowsiness washed over him in increasing waves before he’d taken the last mouthful. Not natural “I think I’ll take a nap in this over-stuffed sofa” waves, either.

“You… fucker,” he said as he toppled into his partner’s arms.

“You need rest, and I am a vampire. It’s my prerogative to be amoral if I want to.” Gage heard from what felt like a long, long distance.

§ § §

When Gage woke, he was in a strange bed in a pitch dark room. He might have freaked out, but the thread count of the sheets and the perfect support of the mattress beneath him reminded him in no uncertain terms that this was Jensen's house. His partner's room was about ten steps up the design ladder from his own studio shitbox in Undertown.

This sliding in and out of consciousness crap was starting to get on his nerves. He'd rather be awake and aching like crazy than dropping like a fainting auntie every five minutes.

Even so, he couldn't deny that he felt better than he had since the night of the attack. Muscles that had been freeze-dried string cheese seemed like they might actually function if he demanded it, his mind felt clear and sharp… and his dick was hard as a steel girder. Great. A relief, yes, but maybe not convenient under the circumstances.

To distract himself from hunger, desire, thirst, and curiosity, he tried to let his eyes focus on whatever details of the room he might be able to discern when the only light was a dim digital clock on a nightstand. Not exactly the kind of ambient light that would illuminate much of his surroundings. Gage's cop instincts didn't fail him, though, and all the small hairs on his body stood at attention, an alarm he'd learn to listen to very carefully when working and living in Undertown, where things you might not want to tangle with could be silent and invisible.

He wasn't alone.

If he hadn't been in what was arguably the safest place in the universe—the lair of a friendly but paranoid vampire—he would have been scrambling for his gun or anything else he could use as a weapon, however impotent. But he was in Jensen's nigh-impregnable house, and there was only one other being that could be taking up space in the room, and be that perfectly silent and still.

Gage focused hard to his right from where the presence emanated, and could make out the bare outline of his partner's long, muscular frame slumped in a chair, head propped up on a fist against the left armrest. The daysleep was an absolute for a vampire. They literally turned into limp dead weight. Didn't move a bit, from a few hours after full sunrise until an hour or so before sunset, unless there was such a dire threat to their physical well-being that it penetrated to their subconscious through the wall of their preternatural rest. Gage could only imagine how uncomfortable it must be to sleep that deeply in a chair.

The sight warmed his heart. Even completely unconscious, Jensen was lending any skill he could, however dulled, to keeping Gage safe by being there if his human partner needed him.

Gage moved as slowly and quietly as he could to the opposite side of the spacious bed, clicking on a small lamp. It spread dim light around the room, allowing Gage to see a little bit better. Honestly, he wasn't at all interested in the decorations or the art… only the figure in the chair. It was hard not to stare at Jensen, with his impressive physique and chiseled features. Long eyelashes against alabaster skin. Those lips… Gage had dreamed a lot of very dirty dreams about things done with that mouth. Recalling those dreams now sent a tingle down his spine and made his already hard cock jerk.

Jesus, this vampire blood stuff was making it difficult to think.

Oh, who are you kidding, jackass? You’ve had the exact same hard-on for six months
.

It was true. The first time he met his new partner back when he got drop-kicked into the Undertown unit, it was like getting hit by a bolt of napalm. Gage wasn’t much for non-humans as a rule, but hot was hot, and this vampire was blazing freaking hot. When Jensen first set those fathomless eyes on him, Gage was
nailed
. He’d had the whole enchilada of responses to vampire pheromones: the sudden increase in heart rate, the sweat, the twin urges to run and to drop to his knees and worship, the sensation like he was a fly caught in amber. Like he couldn’t move until Detective Jensen Holm said “Move, slave.” He should have been creeped out. He should have said, “No frickin’ way I am working with a vampire.”

Instead he’d stood there gaping like a stoned teenager until Jen politely offered a big, pale hand for Gage to shake. “Nice to meet you, Detective,” he’d said, a touch of southwestern twang echoing in his deep, molasses-sweet voice.

And Gage was lost. Or found. Or whatever. He wasn’t one of those squishy, poetic guys. He could never be quite sure if what he felt for Jen was entirely standard human attraction, or if there was some element of vampire predatory flypaper Jensen couldn’t help. As more time went on and Gage learned how deeply honorable and trustworthy his new partner truly was, the less it mattered.

His pointy-toothed hero had saved Gage from the edge of disaster at least once a week since, but nothing as close as this. Nothing that required such intimacy, that brought Jensen so close to his own possible end and definite suffering. Just thinking of it filled Gage’s heart in a way that he had never felt before.

He slid back to the right side of the bed, closer to where Jensen was “resting” in the chair. Maybe Gage was acting like a besotted girl, but he just couldn’t seem to pull his gaze away from his partner. Jen’s stillness wasn’t as eerie as it sometimes seemed when they were ending a stakeout too close to dawn, and Jen just slipped off, like he’d dropped dead…er. Now Jensen was more like an awkwardly posed statue of himself cast in marble and shadow. Gage eased his legs over the edge of the bed, ignoring the fancy black silk jockey shorts he was wearing that were definitely not his own, and sat there. He wanted this small moment when nothing was happening, when no one was on guard, to just… be there with him. To not feel stupid about feeling like a horny teen loser half the time.

Or a human in love with a vampire. Not too cliche. Not too ‘tween romance novel.

There was no fooling a predator’s senses or defeating the sunset. A heartbeat, maybe two, and those eyelashes began to flutter, and the emerald eyes flashed at him in concerned surprise. Gage couldn’t track how quickly Jensen shot upright and leaned toward the bed.

“Are you okay? Do you need something?”

Gage shook his head. His emotional state was bobbing on a stormy sea. Or maybe that was the last of the effects of Jensen’s tea. His erection didn’t seem to care one way or another about the changes taking place in the situation, except maybe to get a little bit harder at the awakening of his favorite vampire.

“No you don’t need anything, or no you’re not okay? They require different action on my part.”

Gage’s hand moved without any conscious intention on his part. He reached out and brushed the curve of his partner’s high cheekbone, the broad cut of his jaw, the soft valley in between. A fine layer of dark stubble peppered the perfect skin, bristling against the calluses of Gage’s fingers. Jensen’s eyes closed as he sighed softly and leaned into the touch.

Jen was not an overly expressive man any more than Gage. While Gage hid behind sarcasm and acerbic humor, the vampire simply ignored social niceties and adopted taciturn silence as his modus operandi. That simple response to Gage’s caress was enormous, intimate on a level that nothing but that feeding the other night had ever been between them.

Gage let his fingertips wander over the dreamy lips, urging them open just the smallest amount so the pouty lower one went slack, exposing a flash of sharp fangs. He knew a lot about that mouth; that Jensen was obsessive about brushing his teeth and fangs to keep his breath from stinking. That he used modified whitening strips he bought on the black market in Undertown. That he had trouble chewing gum around his fangs, so he used mints and mouthwash instead.

But Gage didn’t know the things he really wanted to about it: how it tasted, how it felt. Even when he had those fangs buried in his throat and those lips and tongue were drawing blood and poison out of his carotid, Gage had been so out of it, there was nothing but vague sensation, pain and fear and wonder and lust in a mix he couldn’t fully appreciate or understand.