Immortal Desire (8 page)

Chapter Nine

The way Griff’s heart hammered he had to wonder if a heart attack could kill him, immortal or not. He knew he was smothering her but couldn’t bring himself to move. Maybe in a minute. Or ninety. The exchange of life forces had been a total surprise. He’d come away from the experience absolutely energized. At least he
would
be energized—once his heart got off the short track and he could tone it down.

“Geroff.” The two words ran together thanks to the way her face was smashed into a pillow.

He flopped over, one arm flung above his head and his legs sprawled out. “You okay?”

She whuffed and blew the hair off her forehead. “Think so.”

“How’s the pain?”

A catlike stretch preceded her answer. “Pretty much gone.”

“Pretty much?” Amusement colored his tone.

“Let it go, lover boy.” She rolled onto her side and curled an arm under her head. “Thanks.”

He ran a hand through his hair, gripping it at the crown and giving a couple of sharp yanks. That increasingly familiar discomfort settled in his chest. “Yeah. Okay.” Her indelicate snort made him glance over. “What?”

“Yeah? Okay?” She shook her head. “Never mind.” Rolling onto her back, she stared at the ceiling. “Can I ask you something?”

His stomach cramped. “I guess.”

She absently ran her fingernail along the seam of the sheet, shooting him a brief look. “How did you know I wouldn’t kill you? When I fed off you, I mean.”

Griff closed his eyes. “I didn’t.”

“I can’t believe you would—”

“Leave it alone, Bailey,” he bit out. It didn’t stop her from drawing in a breath that heralded an argument. He looked over and glared, stopping her before she got started. “I mean it.” He let his head roll back before dropping an arm over his face.

Silence settled between them, awkward and charged.

This,
this
was why he didn’t do relationships. Ever. It always came down to moments like this. One party ended up wounded and the other was caught backpedaling. There was no parity, no real partnership. It was just an emotional seesaw in perpetual motion. Thinking he could direct the outcome of this little encounter, however brief, had been the ultimate act of hubris. Bailey wasn’t—hadn’t ever been—controllable.
So stupid.

The bed moved.

He didn’t open his eyes. She’d get up and leave on her own, or she’d force his hand. His stomach bottomed out. Bile burned the back of his throat, and he swallowed convulsively.

The truth of who he was or what he’d become hadn’t changed because of this encounter. It only meant it was time to shore up his defenses. He didn’t want to think about how many cracks there were or he’d be tempted to find a mason who could repair his emotions. Instead, he closed his eyes and forced himself to center, slowed his respirations and relaxed one body part at a time, all while pretending she didn’t exist. Rolling over, he put her at his back.

Sleep slipped in, weighing him down so that, when the abyss opened, he fell into it willingly.

* * *

Griff lunged forward, fully awake. He propped his forearms over bent knees. His head hung low. Confusion saturated his thoughts, casting them in a vague, watery light. Sweat dotted his temples. His chest heaved. Adrenaline screamed through him. His muscles twitched.
Just a dream.
He rubbed his forehead, trying to remember details. Something had been chasing him across a plowed field that seemed endless. He’d fought for distance, desperate to get away. Knew that if he turned and faced what pursued him, he’d lose himself. Had to keep it at his back. Soft dirt closed over his ankles and pulled him deeper with every step.

Rubbing his bare feet against the sheets, he swore he could still feel the grit.
What the hell had that been about?

The mattress moved.

He hadn’t.

Hazy thoughts that bled together only moments before now separated like spilled mercury, each scattered sphere a well-formed memory. He held his breath and shifted his gaze.

A slender foot, pale and feminine, peeked out of the covers near the end of the bed. He tried and failed to work up enough spit to swallow. He canted his head. A dark mass of hair came into view. Followed by long, pale limbs.
Bailey.
Oh
,
shit.
He’d slept with Bailey.
He didn’t
sleep
with women. Sure, he occasionally brought them here for sex, but sex wasn’t sleep. Actual
sleep
was never part of the deal. Sleep meant...
sleep.
Vulnerability. Exposure. Unnecessarily awkward “see you arounds.” It was bad enough he’d have to see her in the bar, but this? This was an open invitation only morons made. Which made him a capital moron.

He turned around far enough to see the bedside clock. 2:58 p.m.
Son of a bitch.
She was working the first shift this week. If she didn’t get her ass downstairs in the next two hours, Friday bar prep wouldn’t get done. Not an option. He’d have to wake her up.

The sudden urge to slip out of bed and disappear for a few days made him itch. It would be so easy. Seth could manage the bar while he caught a flight to the Caribbean. He’d check into a resort, do a little surfing, a little dancing and surround himself with a handful of anonymous, oiled bodies. The break would do him good. Things would be normal by the time he got back. It would be like nothing had—

“Hey.” The sleepy purr of her voice wrapped around him, sensuous and inviting.

Instinct made his nostrils flare. Nothing. No sex on the air. Drawing his brows down, he chanced what should have been a quick look over his shoulder. Mistake. Epic mistake. He couldn’t look away.

She’d propped herself on one elbow. The sheet pooled at the juncture of her thighs, trapped between toned legs. Sheet marks creased her skin. Her abs were drawn taught and created an impossibly long, lean torso. The way she lay exaggerated the dip of her waist and swell of her bare hip. That wild tangle of loose curls had been swept over one shoulder. Her breasts were exposed. Dusky nipples drew tight as he took her in.

The Marker on her hip had come in, dark and well defined. She traced the circle with one finger. Her eyes never left his face.

Griff cleared his throat. “How, uh, are you—” he cleared his throat “—feeling?”

“Very alive.” She bit her bottom lip and grinned, impish yet seductive.

High-def hedonistic thoughts fried his circuit boards. His body instantly became aroused, and he yanked the duvet over his lap.
Chastity cotton.
A
new personal low.

Bailey’s lip slid from between her teeth and her brow creased. “Griff?”

He turned away. The well of emotion he’d long thought dry began to fill. He couldn’t survive this, couldn’t live with the overwhelming crush that would leave him bleeding out with every new encounter.

The mattress wiggled. Air moved around him carrying the clean scent that was all her own. “Hey.” She settled her hand on his bare shoulder. “Did something happen?”

Yeah.
You woke up in my bed.
He shrugged her off and stood, kicking free of the bedding. This would go easier if he told her...what? That he’d been weak? That he’d made a monumental mistake? That he’d known her Change was coming and had waited her out, using it to get her out of his system? That she deserved better than him? That this emotional bullshit maliciously violated one of the two rules he insisted his bed partners respect—a rule she had agreed to just last night? That he’d been an asshole for so long, now it had become a lifestyle choice he didn’t want to give up? That it was safer for him this way? That he meant it? All of it? That he was sorry? So. Damn. Sorry. He rubbed his chest.

He wordlessly crossed the room and paused to lean over the dresser, bare ass hanging in the wind. It was too damn ironic to laugh over, because he was about to make good on the visual.

His throat tightened. He tried to work out the discomfort, rolling his head back and forth. Nothing helped.
Right.
And you know what else won’t help?
Turning into a pussy.
Schooling his face into a cold mask, he peered over his shoulder with studied casualness.

The sight of her kneeling on his bed, sheet pulled over her breasts, eyes wide, pissed him off.
She had agreed.
If there was an injured party here, it sure as hell wasn’t her. “You’re going to need to find someone new to feed from every night for at least the first month.” An internal fracture threatened to drop him where he stood. “Desire’s a good place to scavenge.”

Her mouth fell open at the same time she hiked the sheet higher. “Wait, what? Scavenge?”

“If you feed from the same guy more than one night, you’ll kill him. If you try to wait it out? Your instinct will force your hand, find the strongest life force for you, and
then
you’ll kill him. Might as well choose someone you’ll enjoy.” He blindly grabbed a pair of socks before shoving off the dresser and heading across the room. The image of her mouth around some stranger’s... His fists clenched, but he kept going. “I’m going to grab a shower. You know how to run the elevator.”

* * *

Bailey moved through a conscious fugue. Everything appeared monochromatic, sounded flat, smelled stale. Shoes dangled from numb fingers. She knew she’d dressed before leaving, but only because she’d checked on her way down. Twice. The elevator doors opened into the employee hallway. She stood there, undecided. They slid closed. If the car started again, it would be because Griff had called for it. She frantically punched the door open button, shoving herself through the doors the second they parted.

Seth caught her as she careened off the wall. “Hey, slow down. Olympic sprint trials don’t start for...”

Full-body shakes chose that moment to materialize.

“What happened?” He held her at arm’s length and looked her over.

He shredded me.
Truth? Yes. But it hurt too much to say. Instead, she focused on the third button down from his shirt collar and shrugged.

He pulled back, stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets. “You okay?” Genuine compassion infused his words.

She squared her shoulders and forced herself to look up. “I’m giving my two weeks notice. Officially.” An aching void settled in her chest, secured by stout threads of despair. “I’ll put it in writing after my shift and leave it in your box.”

His eyes narrowed. “Come again?”

“I said I’m—”

“I heard you.” Seth rattled the change in his pocket. “I’m going to kill him.”

Bailey lifted her chin and peered at the ceiling. Tears escaped no matter how fast she blinked, trailing down her temples to disappear into her hair. “Don’t.” She managed a shaky smile. “I survived, didn’t I?”

Tender hands cupped her face and thumbed the tears away. “Yeah. You did. And that’s the most important thing.” He gently pulled her chin down a couple of inches so she faced him. “Don’t quit, okay? Not yet. Give it a little time.”

No doubt her smile was tremulous. “I should go.” When he shook his head, she forced a brighter smile and fought to keep her voice level. “You and I both know it’ll be more comfortable around here if I bow out.”

“Give it two weeks. If you still want to go, I’ll make sure you land on your feet.” The scowl he sported would have intimidated her three years ago. Now? She recognized it for what it was. He cared.

The realization was just another blow. She’d become a part of the family. Had carved out niches in the business, behind the bar and among the employees. It had taken a lifetime, but she finally belonged. Her chest ached so badly she started to pant.

“Hey.” Seth reached for her again.

“Don’t.” She moved out of reach. “It’s good. I’m good, okay? I’ll just—” Waving blindly over her shoulder, she backed toward the locker room. “I’m going to grab a shower and fresh uniform before I tackle prep.”

His audible sigh said he saw right through her.

Whatever.
She hit the door at a run.

Seth understood what she hadn’t been able to say, that she couldn’t live through watching Griff “scavenge” night after night. Just the thought of getting through the next two weeks made her sick.

The moment the door swung shut, she called out, “Anyone in here?”

No answer.

Bailey sagged against the countertop as hard sobs wracked her body. Mouth open, cries silent, she realized she’d never known a heart could truly break. She did now.

She wrapped her arms around her middle and cradled herself. No more casual untruths. No more excuses. She’d spent three years painting her desire for Griff with broad, careless strokes that never forced her to focus on the details, and there had been so many. She’d tried to ignore the dimple in his left cheek when he smiled, his generosity, the way her heart tripped in her chest when he looked at her, the errant flip of hair over his forehead and how she stopped breathing every time they touched. There had always been plenty of time for the little things, those details.

She’d been such a fool.

The dichotomy of the situation wasn’t lost on her, that her last memories of him, her most
vivid
memories, were rich with those very details. But they weren’t details she wanted to remember. She didn’t want to recall the smell of his cologne, the taste of his skin or the sound of his voice in the dark. To recall them meant she’d miss them, and she would.

She hadn’t been brave enough to examine the canvas painted with her experiences. Instead, she’d lied to herself repeatedly, had told herself that the draw was only sexual while she continued to horde the details. Somewhere along the way, she’d fallen in love with Griff. She’d known with a kind of desperate surety that the lies she’d told herself would only hold so long.

Apparently this was the moment the dam broke.

Chapter Ten

Anxiety and contempt created a volatile emotional cocktail within Griff as he rode down in the elevator. His senses fired the second the doors slid open. A bass riff flirted with him. Untapped
prana
called him by name, a siren’s song of promise. “And those bitches are
so
trustworthy,” he muttered. Still, he moved toward the club’s main floor, hands loose at his sides, his gait fluid. There was no hesitation when he hit the door.

Hot bodies crowded the dance floor. Artificial smoke twisted and twined around long legs and defined arms as people moved to the music. Tables were full. Cocktail waitresses busted ass to clear the empties, take orders and haul drinks.
Good to see their pockets full of tips.

The current song wound down. He shot a quick hand signal to the sound booth telling the guy to keep the music hard and fast. The DJ responded with a thumbs up. A hard drumbeat got the dance floor moving again.

Griff moved through the crowd and chatted up the regulars, pocketing a couple of phone numbers. Two hours later he had personally checked out everything but the bathrooms. And the bar. He hated the way his stomach shrank in on itself at the thought. “There’s always the Caribbean.”

A hard body materialized behind him. Hot breath and a familiar voice skated over his ear as he turned.

“You planning on bailing again? Because, you know, things are gettin’ real. It’s about time you split.”

He went chest-to-chest with Seth. This close, it was easy to see the embers buried in the black flames that were Seth’s pupils. Those embers didn’t show up until the guy got righteously pissed. Too bad Griff wasn’t in the mood to discuss feelings. “Nice. Eyes.”

Seth smiled, cold and deadly. “Compliment me all you want. It still won’t get me in bed with you.”

The crowd around them had stilled, their morbid fascination acting like some cosmically fucked up reverse ripple effect that drew spectators in.

Griff leaned in so close his nose brushed Seth’s. “Man, you’ve got to stop using that as a taunt. Shit has to mean something to me before it’ll piss me off.”

The other man’s eyes narrowed, smile fading. “Then you ought to be one happy motherfucker, because I haven’t found anything yet that you give a shit about.”

A hard shove sent them stumbling away from each other. Dominic, head of security and fallen angel, or Nephilim, stepped between them, planted one plate-sized hand on each of their chests and stiffened his arms. “Unless you want to make this a threesome, and you guys know how much I love threesomes, you need to take this outside.”

Griff swept Dominic’s arm away. “I’m good.” He glanced at Seth. “And we’re done.”

In typical fashion, the unflappable fallen angel arched a brow and grinned. “Glad to hear it. I’d hate to have to kick your ass then ask for my paycheck. Aaaawkward,” he singsonged.

Seth stepped back but never took his eyes off Griff.

“We’ll settle this later,” Griff said through gritted teeth.

The current song abruptly cut off, and the DJ’s sultry voice came over the sound system. “Looks like you guys are in for a treat tonight.” Sharp whistles and a round of cheers went through the crowd. “Got a song request, sweetheart?”

Griff followed the other men’s stares. He couldn’t see over the sea of people from his doubled-over position, so he slowly rose to his full height. All his earlier efforts proved for naught as he found himself facing the bar.

Customers were stacked three and four deep from one end to the other. Most of them were men, and almost all were waving money. Another cheer went up, louder than before.

Like a phoenix rising from the ashes of the mundane, she unfolded. Fresh and beautiful and brutally sensual. Long legs appeared even longer in the tiny uniform shorts. Her company T-shirt had been knotted so high that the edge of her bra peeked out when she moved. That thick tangle of hair had been pinned up with...stir sticks? He snorted. Then she pulled the impromptu pins free.

He wanted to blame the breathlessness on his argument with Seth. He wanted to blame the ache in his chest on heartburn. He wanted to blame the choking emptiness in him on...on...
Shit
. He’d settle for
any
explanation, no matter how absurd. But Griff knew better. “Bailey.”

He hadn’t realized he’d spoken until Seth moved to stand beside him. “Hurt to look at her?”

The denial hung in his throat. He ran his hands behind his head and pulled until his arms shook and his neck strained. “Yeah.”

The
djinn
crossed his arms over his chest, eyes on the crowd at the bar. “Good.”

Dominic moved in beside them before Griff could think of an intelligent comeback. “Any reason I should pull her down?”

Griff said, “Hell, yes,” at the same time Seth answered, “No need.”

Bailey chose that moment to turn her back to the crowd and swivel her hips.

Griff’s jaw hung slack. Lust punched through him leaving massive holes in odd places. Someone grabbed the back of his shirt. That’s when he realized he’d started toward the bar. Toward Bailey.

“Hey. You passed on her, remember? Seemed like it was a pretty clear thanks-but-no-thanks kind of pass, too.”

Griff shot Seth a hard look. “You talked to her?”

“Tried. She wasn’t interested.” His eyes narrowed dangerously, and his next words were so harsh and low Griff had to lean in to hear him. “Kind of impossible to miss the fallout, though. Grief has a truly awful sound.” He shook his head and looked across the crowd, eyes unfocused. “You had a chance, a real chance, and you pissed it away.”

The same thought had haunted every second of every minute of every hour that had passed since Griff had sent her away. “Maybe.” At Seth’s bland stare, he dragged a hand down his mouth. “Probably, okay? I put my Google-fu to work this afternoon after...well, after. Her
prana
left me feeling better than I’ve ever felt. Found out an incubus and succubus can sustain each other exclusively, but finding a pair that can be true to each other is less likely than finding an honest politician. No records of long-term anything, though. Only legend.”

Seth gaped, and he never gaped. “What did you just say?”

“I screwed up. Should have done my homework earlier. It only proves I don’t deserve her.”

Seth grabbed him by the front of the shirt and hauled him around. “You stupid son of a bitch. Don’t you get it? Love isn’t about deserving or not deserving. It’s about taking a risk and betting against the house and seizing the moment. It’s roll-up-your-sleeves dirty. It’s emotionally boggy ground. And it’s the only thing that stands even a remote chance of making this life less lonely.”

Griff stared at Seth, dumbfounded. He frowned when Seth’s face went blank. “You just had a stroke, didn’t you?”

The man released him and stepped back. “Looks like you don’t need to worry about it.”

“Huh?”

“Love.” Seth tipped his head toward the bar. “She’s headed to the dance floor.”

If Griff wondered how the look on his face translated, the way the people nearest him scrambled away provided a pretty universal interpretation. It took only a second to find Bailey because she’d taken the bar show straight to the floor. He watched her move against the stranger. Hands above her head, she rubbed her ass against the guy’s zipper.

“Girl can sure as hell move.” Seth unabashedly adjusted his cock.

“I can’t do this.” Griff turned away.

“Can’t do what, exactly?”

“This.” He gestured blindly over his shoulder. “I have to do...something.”

“Looks like it’s now or never.”

“Huh?”

“She’s with another guy on the dance floor.”

There was only one reason she’d be with the guy.

She was going to feed.

* * *

Bailey moved against the stranger’s body, trying desperately to lose herself in the music. No thinking, just experiencing. She didn’t know how else to survive what had to happen.

The guy slid his arms around her waist and ground his erection against her. She hadn’t done more than glance at him, but she found herself hoping for his sake that he was good looking. Otherwise? His sweaty, groping, rhythm-challenged self didn’t stand a chance with a normal woman. Which she wasn’t. Not anymore.

No thinking.
She blindly grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the exit.

“What’s the rush?” he shouted.

“Dying to get in your pants.”
How miserably true.

He yanked his hand from her grasp.

A hard shove sent her sprawling.

“Better be hella good-looking or his genealogy chart just flatlined,” she grumbled, pushing hair out of her face as she stood. It didn’t really matter what he looked like, though. She couldn’t go through with this. “Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t—”

The music shut off. She paused. The crowd had closed ranks and gone still. Seth’s leviathan form knocked people aside as he headed toward her.
And where Seth was
,
so was
... She turned with a sense of horror and heartache.

Her jaw dropped. Griff, typically cool and aloof, had the guy by the throat, their faces inches apart. “Touch her again and I’ll make sure you’re shitting in a bag before sunrise. We clear?”

“Don’t.” What should have been a command came out flat. Only the residue of pride she managed to scrape together helped her meet Griff’s gaze when he looked at her.

He tossed the guy away before taking a step toward her.

She stumbled away, hands held out. “You have no right.”

“I’m seizing the moment.”

“What moment?”

Another step toward her. “This one.”

Seth’s voice whispered past her ear. “Roll with it.”

She glanced at the
djinn
, an irrefutable friend. He nodded. Turning, she sucked in a breath. Griff stood mere inches away. The smell of his arousal saturated the air.
So that’s all this is.
“I danced this dance, Griff. Never again.”

He flinched. It was a small reaction, but undeniable all the same.

Seth cleared his throat.

“I’ve got this,” Griff ground out. “You can stop mothering me.”

Seth shook his head, one corner of his mouth curling up. “I’ll stop mothering you when you grow up. Until then? You’re stuck with me.”

Griff rolled his eyes before refocusing on Bailey. “Don’t leave with him.”

The crippling hurt, the one that had been there since he walked away, intensified.
Could a broken heart make someone bleed out?
“I have to go,” she croaked.

“Choose me instead.”

Traitorous tears slipped down her cheeks. “Don’t do this to me.”

He held out a hand. “Please.”

She took a steadier step back, shaking her head. “No.”

Griff closed the distance between them and took her face in his hands. “I’m begging.”

“Not good enough.” She met his unguarded gaze, left her own pain undisguised.

“I’m...I’m so damn sorry, Bailey.” He rested his forehead against hers.

Looking at him proved too hard. An overwhelming need arose, a need to believe in him. Trust him. She wanted the kind of security that chased phantoms from dark corners. The kind of blind faith that never withered, only strengthened. He could give her all of it. Probably. Thoughts and feelings bombarded her. In the end, finding hope proved too hard. “‘Sorry’ isn’t enough.”

Lips brushed her cheek, feather-light. Tentative. Seeking.

“Don’t do this to me,” she repeated. Her voice shook almost as hard as her heart.

“I want you, Bailey.”

She slowly opened her eyes. “And right there, that
want
will always be between us. Because I
need
more than that.” Funny thing was, she would have settled for “want” hours ago. Not anymore.

Pain decorated his face, only one part of an emotional collage. “I...” He dropped his hands.

“That’s what I thought.” Whirling, she started for the door, the crowd parting before her as if they were stage curtains lifting for the final act.
How appropriate.
She looked back at Seth, never slowing down. “I quit.”

Unforgiving fingers gripped her upper arm. “Get your hands off me, Seth.”

“I don’t want you to ever call another man’s name,” that voice growled in her ear. “Ever.” He tried to turn her around.

Griff.
She couldn’t move.

He stepped in front of her and bent his knees to get below her downturned face. “Fine. I’ll come to you. Again and again, Bailey. It’s always been you.”

His hard mouth crashed into hers, fierce and unyielding. The kiss lifted her up and swept her away against her will. He tasted like fine whiskey, smelled like sin, felt so right.
Griff.
Her arms went around his neck.

He picked her up, encouraging her legs around his waist.

A deafening cheer went up from the crowd she’d all but forgotten.

Breaking the kiss, he looked at her. “I need you, Bailey.”

She buried her face in his neck, the ache in her chest filled with bitter regret.

“Come upstairs with me?”

“I can’t.”

He set her down very slowly. “I don’t understand.”

“I have to feed,” she whispered, shame burning in her cheeks. “You said—”

“If I said I found a way around that? Would you come with me then?” His voice had taken on a detached distance she hated.

“Yes.” The word was hardly out of her mouth before he grabbed her hand, hauling her through the bar, down the hall and into his private elevator.

Griff pounded on the close button. “C’mon, c’mon.” The doors closed and the car began to rise. Then he rounded on her, a wild look in his eyes. “I sent you away because I couldn’t see you go through this, couldn’t watch you feed and die a little every day. I swear I didn’t know until late this afternoon that we could be everything to each other. You have to believe me.”

Her forehead wrinkled. “Why check now?”

“I had no idea it was possible. And why now? You. Feeding from you and how I felt afterward. But it was you.” He ran a shaking hand across his chest and gripped his shoulder. “I spent lifetimes looking for you. Letting you go isn’t an option. Not really.” He dropped his chin and snorted. “Who am I kidding? It was never an option.”