Domiel (11 page)

Perhaps she’d had that family life he yearned for before she’d been turned.

She stirred, drawing his attention. She opened her eyes, and pushed away from him without a word. There was that blank look clouding her features, just like the one she’d worn after talking to Ambrose. Obviously, she’d learned something just as disturbing.

“Kelsey?”

She ignored him and walked into the kitchen, her movements slow and strange. He briefly wondered if he should leave her alone or comfort her. Something told him to go to her.

He leaned against the entrance to the kitchen with his hands in his pockets, contemplating what he could say. Her back was to him as she stood facing the large picture window. She remained silent, and he didn’t have the heart to ask her what she’d learned.

Jerky movements took her to the countertop. She slipped a large butcher knife from its place in a wooden holder. He straightened, every nerve on alert. “What are you doing?”

She didn’t answer. Instead she raised the knife with both her hands and pointed it at her chest.

He moved as fast as his demonic powers enabled him, but he didn’t make it to her in time.

* * * *

Kelsey awoke to sharp, immobilizing pain. A deep, commanding voice was shouting her name over and over again. Warm liquid coated her chest, its metallic scent stinging her nose, making her fangs elongate. Her limbs were heavy, and she was disoriented. Domiel kneeled next to her, pressing down on her chest, hurting her.

“Stop … please…” Her plea came out as a whisper. The rookie knew nothing about assassination. Why not just cut off her fucking head? She closed her eyes against the pain and gritted her teeth to keep from moaning. The face of the incubus who’d haunted her connection with Lexie flashed behind closed lids.

“Kels, stay awake, do you hear me? Open your eyes!”

She barely managed to crack her lids open, but she did so because of the strength in his voice. She’d never heard him command someone’s compliance as he was doing now. He’d never taken training seriously, so she’d never taken him seriously.

So easy to forget he was a demon. A somewhat trained killer. She flinched when he pressed harder against her chest, making it difficult to breathe. It was then that everything came back to her. The familiar demon in her dream had controlled her actions, and she’d wrapped her hands around the handle of a kitchen knife.
In the dream realm
. Had she been mimicking the actions in real life as well? How the hell could he make her do that?

“I know for certain who’s framing me,” she said weakly.

“The bleeding is slowing, but you’ll need to feed. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

She hadn’t fed in weeks. Her body was battered, and she’d need to take from him. Rumor had it he wasn’t thrilled with the notion. Kelsey recalled a female talking about it. He’d flat out told her,
Hell
no
.

But she had no choice, and they both knew it.

“I’m sorry. I know … you don’t…” It was difficult to draw breath.

She focused on Domiel. His brows were drawn as he tended to her wound. A wound she’d been forced to inflict upon herself. Her thoughts drifted to the demons who’d been forced to kill themselves, and she felt their pain. The realization that Ambrose and the heads of the Alliance believed her capable of doing such things to innocents hurt more than her wounds.

“Your gash has closed somewhat. I’m going to lift you up and take you to bed.”

“If I had a nickel … for every time … you’ve said that to a woman.”

He slipped his arms underneath her legs and back and lifted her gently. “If only I had a nickel for every time you were hurt.”

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. The movement stole her breath. Somewhere between the kitchen and the bedroom, she finally found her voice. “Oh, God, don’t make me laugh.”

Fine time for him to show his sense of humor. He had a knack for that. Absolutely nothing was funny at the moment. She wasn’t safe when she was awake, and she sure as hell wasn’t safe when she slept or connected with another. Between the Alliance and the incubus, she didn’t stand much of a chance.

Her chest was on
fire.
“How many times did I stab myself? Hell, I’ve been stabbed before … but this is something else entirely.”

“It wasn’t the number of times you stabbed yourself. I think it was the twist you gave the knife.”

She grimaced.
Oh yeah, my famous twist. How could I have forgotten?
She sank into the bed when he set her down, but she couldn’t draw comfort from the plush mattress—not when her body was so tense with pain.

Lying prone, her body stilled even more when he held his wrist over her mouth. He didn’t like a vampire sucking on him. Well, sucking on his blood anyway. She wasn’t so timid or stupid to deny his blood, because they both knew she desperately needed it, but she felt awkward. Seconds went by and she did nothing, his flesh so close her mouth watered.

“Kels, I don’t mind. Really. Do you prefer the neck?”

His body lying on top of hers? They’d be rolling in the sheets if she allowed herself to feed in that capacity. “No. Wrist will do.”

More time lapsed. Her mouth watered. Her body craved sustenance, and yet she couldn’t make herself do it. His distaste for allowing vampires to feed from him was what stopped her from taking his blood when she’d been blinded.

“I don’t have fangs. Can’t pierce myself.”

His words might sound blasé, but she noted the tight line of his mouth, his expressionless face, his tense muscles. The beating of his pulse so close to her mouth lengthened her fangs. Without further prodding, she sank her fangs into him, instinct driving her to take his blood.

A newly fallen angel, his blood was sweet, rich, and extremely exotic. She closed her eyes, relishing his thick life force as it slid over her tongue, all the while knowing he hated it, and respecting him for allowing her to feed. He knew she needed this, but he had no idea just how much. Her body responded swiftly. She began to heal, the tingling sensation traveling through her chest.

Their legs shifted. Somehow his muscled thigh found its way between hers. Caught up in the moment and all the extreme sensations, she couldn’t stop her pelvis from grinding against him. Her hips came off the bed, his hips dipped lower to meet her halfway. He was suddenly on her—over her—and damn it felt good. She spread her legs wide, her body attuned to his needs, hoping his was doing much of the same.

If someone had told her she’d be taking Domiel’s blood while lying on her back, practically
dry humping
him a week ago, she would have knocked their teeth out.

Their clothing remained on, which had a crazy way of making everything seem a little naughtier. She gripped the comforter and released his wrist with a moan, her body desiring sex more than the blood now. Losing control was a little foreign to her. This wasn’t her first drink from a demon, though it felt like it. No, this was better. This was with Domiel.

His whiskers brushed her cheek. “Take from my neck.”

Apparently he was on the same page.

Like a predator—which, she guessed she was—her arms snaked around his neck to hold him in place. He pumped against her as though they had no clothes on and he was deep inside of her. He unwrapped her arms from his neck, palmed her wrists, and held them down against the satin-wrapped pillowcases that cradled her head.

Damn, his blood was potent—just as intoxicating as the sexual energy that rippled off his body. Wounds forgotten, she no longer felt pain, only pleasure.
He didn’t like vampires doing this to him. He’s doing it for you.

She needed blood and he was giving it to her, in more ways than one, true, but it would just be sex. She had to believe that. She had no room in her life for a partner right now. Not with that incubus on her ass. She’d be putting Domiel in danger.

Her fears melted under the heat of his body. In the back of her mind, she knew she should be focusing on the incubus, doing whatever she could to clear her name, but she couldn’t drum up enough focus to give a damn. Not when every cell of her body was attuned to Domiel and the wicked things he was doing.

The way he dominated their position, even while she was the one taking from him, was a total turn-on. Their foreplay made her feel out of control, and damned if she didn’t eat it up as fast as she was taking his blood.
This is just sex. Only sex.

She pulled back from his neck, licked his wound, and wrapped her legs around his waist. He could dematerialize their clothes with only a thought. She waited to feel his skin. Waited.

Hesitation seeped off his body like steam rising off a hot concrete road after a cool afternoon shower. He couldn’t bear the feel of her fangs on him. That’s what this was. He was disgusted by it. Desire coursed through her body until his went completely rigid. She’d be damned—

Breathing hard, he pulled back with an apology. She lay in numb awareness as he sat up on the side of the bed and adjusted his rumpled clothes. Droplets of blood slid down his neck and soaked into the collar of his shirt. She stared at the stain, unable to put a voice to the words congregating in her mind. Like a flock of birds frightened from the safety of a tree after a loud noise, her thoughts scattered when it dawned on her that he’d just shut her down.

When he pushed from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom she felt the tingle in her eyes, aware they had gone white, her emotions spiked.

He’d slept with half the fucking Alliance. What the fuck had just happened? Was he really that revolted by her feeding? Or was it just her?

Shame hit her in the gut and made her sick to her stomach. She should never have accepted his offer. What she’d done sickened him, obviously.

She closed her eyes, wishing for the first time she could take back what she’d just done, wishing she’d never tasted such sweetness.

* * * *

Domiel splashed cold water on his face, braced himself against the cold porcelain counter, and counted to twenty. Water dripping off his eyelashes, his heartbeat erratic, he took a hard look at himself in the mirror at the twin red marks that now marred the skin on his neck.

His first impulse when she’d bit into his neck had been to remove their clothing with his powers, slide into her, and make her his. He’d wanted to crush her in his embrace, squeeze her until their bodies became one. He’d felt … violent.

Nothing like his former sexual encounters. With Kels he’d nearly come undone. And there was no way in hell that could be safe for her. He could have hurt her, and wasn’t that fucking ironic? He was afraid to hurt her, and he was tasked with ending her life.

He wanted so much more than sex. Sex changed nothing, and hadn’t he found that out time and time again? His biggest fear had ridden him until he’d pulled away from her; what if they had sex and nothing between them changed? Lying with someone should mean something, should bring them closer together.

What if that didn’t happen with Kels?

The bathroom door burst open, banging against the wall with a resounding thud. He twisted in the direction and his breath caught.

It was easy to envision what Kelsey had looked like when she’d been possessed. Her eyes were glowing white, her blond hair a wild mess from their time shared on the bed. Her shirt was torn in the front from where she’d stabbed herself, the jagged edges of the material matching the irregularity of his breathing.

“You sleep with half the Alliance but turn a cold shoulder when it comes to me? Did my vampirism sicken you that much? Do I sicken you?”

He stood stunned. “What?” That was absurd, but then again, what other conclusion could she draw from his actions? “No, that’s not it. I just…” What the hell was he supposed to say? I’m scared that sex with you won’t mean anything, just like all the others? He might as well put a bow in his hair and start wearing heels.

“Just what?”

She was hurt, but he couldn’t very well say what was on his mind. “Do you need more blood?”

Lame. So lame.

The slow shake of her head made his head swim with possibilities. He’d had women back him into corners before, beg him for his affection. This was something entirely different. It was mutual. He wanted her just as badly as she seemed to want him.

Before he could respond, his back was against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall. He hadn’t even seen her move. Trapped between the shower door to his left, a wicker tower filled with towels and toiletries to his right, and a wicked-looking Kelsey at his front, he’d never been so aroused.

“I won’t bite you. I promise.”

Her fangs ripping his T-shirt in half set the tone. It was the green light he’d needed. She could handle anything he dished out, she was a vampire for fuck’s sake, and if sex changed nothing between them, he could try again. And again. And,
goddamnit
, again.

He fisted his hand in her hair, brought her face inches from his own. Fangs were his least favorite aspect of a female vampire’s body, but on Kels it worked. Holy shit, did it work, and he’d let her know. He didn’t want her thinking he found her way of living sick. He bent his head down, licked the tip of each fang, drawing his own blood. She moaned against his mouth, punctured his bottom lip. He’d be a bloody, bruised, deliriously happy demon when they were through.

He dematerialized her clothes, left his on. She had a very inventive way of removing them from his body, so he’d be damned if he took the opportunity away from her.

She didn’t disappoint.

Within seconds his shirt had been reduced to shredded rags on the floor, nothing but a delicious memory. She licked and bit her way to his zipper, ran her tongue over his abs, taking her time as she explored his body. The anticipation was driving him mad.

Her long nails raked against his jeans, right over his erection. When she looked up, blond hair wild, eyes dangerously devoid of color, and smiled wickedly at him, he could have sworn on a stack of bibles he was in love. Blasphemy and irony aside, it was the absolute truth.

She unzipped him with her teeth, and he said a prayer of thanks. She was through with teasing. Taking his length in her small palms, she wrapped her warm, moist mouth over him.