Embrace the Mystery [03] Blood Rose Series (3 page)

By nightfall, having been up for twenty-four hours, Lorelei needed some sleep.

Quinlan was well on his way to healing and she’d removed the blood-feeding tube. He’d be waking up in the next few hours at which time she’d give him a solid wrist-feed.

For now, however, with Quinlan’s skin mostly restored and sleeping as he was on his back, she stretched out on the bed, pulled a separate blanket over her and turned on her side to look at him. With all the lights in the room off, she altered her vision and saw him in a soft glow.

He had an incredible profile. His nose was slightly crooked like it had been broken in some way he couldn’t repair or maybe he’d been born that way, but she’d always thought it his sexiest feature. He had thick black brows, and his hair lay twisted and matted beneath him. She didn’t envy him that brush-job.

Her hair was similar so she knew exactly what he faced when he finally recovered.

She tucked her hand beneath her cheek and sighed. Not a bad night-and-day’s work, saving a mastyr vampire from an ancient fae and two uber-powerful Invictus wraith-pairs.

Was this the future then? An army of wraith-pairs that could defeat even a powerful mastyr vampire?

If this were true, then what would happen to the Nine Realms? How could Grochaire or any of the other North American realms stand?

Well, she couldn’t solve all the world’s problems, at least not tonight.

She smiled as she fell sound asleep.

* * * * * * * * *

Quinlan woke up slowly, his mind cluttered with images that he couldn’t quite make sense of, like huge vampires and wraiths, snowfields, and a deadly net flying through the air.

But beneath the revolving spin of scattered sights and sounds, rode a sense that he should be up and doing something. He just didn’t know what.

His eyes took their time opening and they hurt in a strange way, like he’d been staring at the sun, a very bad thing for a vampire.

He recalled seeing something gold and glowing, but what?

Some of his bones ached, especially his ribs, and he could feel them reforming, which meant he’d been hurt recently, but how? Why?

A weight across his upper thighs and another across his chest stung a little where his skin hadn’t completely healed.

So he must have been burned as well.

He reached down to remove the first weight and found a woman’s arm.

An arm.

He smiled. Though he wasn’t sure why, he liked the woman’s arm over his chest and he could live with the moderate pain it caused.

He sighed and his mind drifted back into oblivion once more.

Sometime later, he awoke again with a new weight pressed on his chest, something heavier this time and his nose tickled.

Opening his eyes, which didn’t sting nearly as much as earlier, he lifted a hand to rub the tip of his nose. He found several strands of coarse hair curled just so to make his skin itch.

Blond hair. Very thick and wavy.

He knew this hair. He was sure of it.

Ah, the woman again.

She lay on his chest, the cause of that heavy weight.

His ribs still hurt, but not that much, not enough to make him want to wake the woman up and tell her to move.

Instead, his lips curved once more. Oddly, he felt more relaxed than he had in a long time, in decades, maybe even centuries. His stomach didn’t even hurt.

Weird, that.

He wanted to explore why his stomach wasn’t all cramped up with blood-hunger, but he drifted off once more.

When he finally woke up for good, the first thing he realized was that he was in a fully aroused state and the woman lay partially on top of him.

He opened his eyes and found that no aches remained in or near the sockets, but his stomach warned him that he was low on fuel and not the kind that a meal could provide.

He needed blood.

The woman was still on him, only this time she lay completely over him, snoring gently.

He cradled her with one arm. She wore a skirt of some kind and a blouse. A bra.

He wore nothing and the sheet that had once covered him hung around his knees.

Shifting slightly, the woman snuggled closer, tilting her face into his neck. She found the skin at his throat and slowly started nibbling, then she began to suck.

His cock loved what she was doing, but somehow the whole thing seemed wrong. If only his brain would pull together and work properly, then he could figure this out, like who she was, where he was.

He looked up at the ceiling and saw a beautiful painting of a woman with wings, an angel perhaps, in flight. The colors were navy and a violet or purple. He wasn’t sure about the names for the different hues.

She seemed happy and somehow the painting made him feel at ease, which he supposed was the purpose, if someone was in what he could only interpret as a kind of healing facility. Glancing around, he recognized fae-paraphernalia, some scented candles, a blood-feeding tube.

At that, he frowned. He needed to feed again, but given the severity of his injuries, the woman must have already donated through the tube.

And just like that, the images coalesced. He recalled flying through Batya’s art gallery, having been thrown through the window. He remembered a painting of a snowfield, and another in a meadow littered with the unique camping tents that his troll brigade used in the mountains. There were other images like streams and maybe a river, of a trail through a fall forest, almost brilliant orange, and burning or maybe it was just the colors of fire.

Batya’s paintings of course, remembered in vivid detail.

Batya. Yes.

He held her in his arms, the woman who suckled his neck softly in her slumbers. He squeezed her and his cock moved against her abdomen.

He drifted his nose, as he’d been wanting to for weeks, along the line of her cheek. He dragged in air and there it was, the scent he now associated with her, an erotic, flowery fragrance, like something found in the tropics.

For a moment, he thought about moving his hips on a downward trajectory, until he could position himself between her legs. He knew her sleep-style a little, since the first time he’d brought her to ecstasy, she’d barely been awake, just coming out of her slumbers. Very wicked of him, but it had been worth it.

On the other hand, he didn’t feel right about invading her like this. Seduction was one thing, but taking advantage of a vulnerable female was not his style, despite that she sucked his neck and now rolled her hips into his with matching need.

He groaned then squeezed her waist, shaking her just a little. He needed her to wake up, to stop moving on him.

She cooed in her half-sleep. “Quinlan?”

“I’m here.”

“Oh, that voice of yours, as deep as the ocean, and you smell so good, like wood-smoke.”

“I know what you mean.”

She swirled her tongue over his neck.

“You need to stop doing that.”

“But you taste so good.”

“Open your eyes.”

“They are open.”

“No, they’re not.”

She chuckled softly. “Yes, they are.”

He drew back just enough to look at her, wondering if he was mistaken, but her eyes were fully closed. Yep, still half-slumbering and he knew he could take her. Was ever a woman more accessible at this point in her sleep than Batya?

“Wake up.” He spoke in a sharp tone, which snapped her eyes open.

“Quinlan? What are you--” She broke the question off mid-sentence and blinked several times. “What am I doing here?”

He chuckled softly. “It’s okay.”

“Did you pull me on top of you? Quinlan, is that you pressing into my belly?”

“The answer to your first question is, no, I did not pull you on top of me like this. I awoke in just this position. Several times in fact, and each time you were sprawled over me, but this is your latest arrangement.” He cleared his throat. “As for the second question, yes, that’s
me
pressing into your abdomen.”

She didn’t move for a very long moment, though her limbs had stiffened slightly. She just kept looking at him, and blinking rapidly. He couldn’t imagine her thoughts and he had no idea what she would address first.

But a faint smile made him hopeful as she said, “Well, the rumors about you are exactly spot on, but I won’t say more about that.”

He smiled. He knew what she meant and damn him for loving that she’d just said it. His cock twitched appreciatively.

She drew back a little and searched his face. “How do you feel? Any pain? You’d been fried to a crisp and had a bunch of broken bones when we brought you in here.”

“I’m fine. Just a little soreness here and there, but I’ll need to feed soon.”

At that, she relaxed against him and offered her wrist. “Go ahead. Take what you need.”

Quinlan stared at her for a good long moment. He’d expected a lot of things, but not Batya offering up her arm. He knew she was generous: she had a free-clinic and had brought in some kind of ex-pat to help her out, a woman who lived in an apartment on her premises.

He also knew he was the last man who deserved that kind of generosity. He had no illusions about who he was. He’d spent his life trying to atone for his father’s death.

But that Batya would donate so freely when he’d been harassing her for weeks about needing to get into her bed, crushed something inside his chest.

He didn’t press her either about finding another
doneuse
. To refuse her wrist would have been tacky after all she’d done for him.

When she curled her arm so that he could take her wrist at a good angle, and without giving it too much thought, he lowered his fangs and struck to the exact, practiced depth and began to suck down the sweetest tasting blood, flowery and erotic, just as he’d imagined.

However, given that she still lay on top of him, his other problem suddenly got worse.

* * * * * * * * *

Batya realized her mistake when she watched Quinlan’s eyes roll back in his head with his first draw at her wrist. An involuntary flex of his hips followed so that she felt his cock glide up her lower abdomen in one long erotic stroke.

Sweet Goddess, I’m sorry, Batya, but you don’t know what you taste like. Don’t worry. Just ignore my response.

But Batya couldn’t. He’d been working her up for weeks. He’d brought her to climax several times with just his vibration and he looked so good close up, with his golden skin and sexy crooked nose, his full lips plundering her wrist.

A simple idea came to her given their shared level of need, so with her free hand, she carefully drew her skirts up so that when she turned back to him, she felt him skin-to-skin, the base of his cock pressing against her mound.

Heaven.

What are you doing?
He pathed
.
His eyes looked frantic as he watched her.

Just keep taking what you need.
She held his gaze as he sucked and she pressed herself against him and began to rock into him.

He groaned as he sucked.
Can you come like this, even though I’m not inside you?
His deep voice in her head almost brought her.

She nodded.
Oh, yeah. Can you?
She searched his dark eyes.

Fuck, yeah, especially with your blood flowing down my throat.

She reached around and grabbed his ass to keep the pressure anchored. He shifted just enough and began to push against her as well, quick upward jabs, holding her gaze.

Come for me, Cha. Come for me.
His voice. Sweet Goddess, that rumbling bass voice.

And before she knew it, he added his vibration which pushed her over the edge and she groaned as ecstasy poured through her. She cried out, grinding against his cock. He left her wrist and held her close, his cock jerking repeatedly as he came. He grunted heavily as he pushed his hips into her over and over, extending the moment.

“Your vibrations, Quinlan. They get me every time.”

“Your response gets me.”

Her breathing slowed. His as well.

“Short but sweet.”

She smiled. “I love your voice.”

He drew her against him, cradling her again, rocking her just a little.

Thank you, Batya. That was a double kindness. I owe you one.

Well, you took care of me, too, so maybe we’re even.

He chuckled.

After a couple of minutes, she leaned up on her elbow to better see him. “Your hair’s a mess.”

“Hey, I almost died.”

“I’m not making a comment on fashion or tidiness, just remarking that you’ll have a couple of tangles to clear up once you shower. I have a really good crème rinse, though. You’re welcome to it.”

He reached up and touched the matted hair at the nape of his neck, then winced. “You weren’t kidding.”

“Look at it this way, you didn’t lose your hair though half your body was burned bad.”

He frowned suddenly and looked around. “Can you explain to me why I’m still alive, why you’re still here and not dead? How did you survive the attack?”

She looked anywhere but at him. She’d known this moment would come, that she’d have to tell him the truth about her radical fae powers, but she didn’t want to. She slid off him, pulling her skirts away.

“Where are you going? Batya, what’s going on?”

She kicked the blanket off her legs and sat at an angle on the side of the bed, mostly away from him. Time to confess. “When you crashed through the window, I gathered my power and set up an enthrallment shield.”

“You did what?”

She waved her right hand. “Can’t you see that? Feel that?”

He looked around, then settled his gaze on the window that overlooked the alley. The blinds and drapes were drawn for privacy.

She watched him as his gaze scanned the window, the drapes, the wall. He closed his eyes for a moment then opened them. I sense a very faint vibration, nothing more.

“Good. I’m glad. For me it’s like an air-conditioning unit that’s been running full bore, all night, right next to my head and I wish I could shut it off. But the ancient fae has one of her minions stationed across the street from my gallery, about where you were last night. She’s a pretty elf who’s been chain-smoking for the past several hours.