Kiss Me Deadly (10 page)

“Let me guess,” Himself added, twirling another bit of plant between two fingers. “He chawed at your neck and sucked down the love spell. Or was it your lovely bottom that drew him in for the drink? Interesting scenario, if one thinks on it.”

The brimstone-coated enthusiasm leaking into the room was in direct proportion to Ravin’s gut-curdling disgust.

“Right, but this vamp wants me dead. Repayment for me killing him, and all. At least, he
wanted
me dead, before he went all lovey-dovey moon-eyed on me. I think I would have preferred death to what he did instead.”

Ravin turned and peeked in the pot. It needed to cool for an hour before she could package it up and send Himself on his merry path to hell. Joy.

“I need to reverse the spell.”

“Impossible,” Himself said.

“I know that, Einstein.”

Himself looked startled. He patted his hair. “Have I changed to the scientist? Where’s a mirror? I’ve got to see this!”

“No, creep, you’re still…him.”

One should probably laugh at Himself’s attempts at humor, ingratiate oneself to the dark lord, and all, but Ravin had worse matters to attend.

“I ordered the spell,” Himself said, “and thanks to the particulars of your spell crafting, that means only I can reverse it. Not that I will. What wicked joy to see you pursued by the very creature you most hate. Though it couldn’t have been all too hateful in the sack. I don’t see struggle marks.”

“Can I please take a shower?”

“When will the potion be ready?”

“An hour. Half, if we rush it. It just needs to cool.”

“Fine. Go wash away the evidence of your sins.”

“Having sex is not a sin.”

“Just so.” He steepled his fingers before Johnny’s face and flashed those gorgeous brown eyes at her. “But two different species going at it—”

“Enough!”

Johnny leaned forward and caught his chin in his palm, contemplative. “You know what? I like you, Crosse. I am going to reverse the spell for you.”

Sounded too good to be true. Which meant it was. Ravin traced the second line on her chest, sans slash mark. “And what will I owe you in return?”

“Nothing. I’ve already gotten a good laugh out of the whole fiasco. Laughs are so rare in my line of work.”

“So you’ll do it while I’m in the shower? The world will be good and evil when I step out?”

He shrugged. “Probably not. I’ll get around to it when I’m in the mood.”

Of course. It couldn’t be that easy. “I can’t ask for anything more.”

“You certainly can not.”

Ravin went and showered, and when she had finished Himself was gone, along with the love spell.

“Great. Didn’t need you, either, ugly plant-eating, brimstone-stinking…” She sighed, not feeling the energy to summon an angry diatribe.

Treading into the bedroom, she retrieved a soft black silk two-piece pajama outfit and slid it over her skin, but she didn’t feel the least bit tired.

It wasn’t even midnight. Today was Monday…not her usual hunting night.

“So!” She slapped her palms together and the sound rang in her empty apartment. “Time to reward the threshold and look up a number to call a carpenter in the morning.”

She was a witch, after all, not an expert in construction.

The doorbell rang, and the front door—still unhinged—fell down into the foyer.

Ravin peeked out the bedroom door, knowing to expect a vamp, but seeing only a pitiful clutch of red and black roses.

“D
id you rob a graveyard?”

Nikolaus stepped over the fallen door. “You want me to fix that for you? Can’t be easy for the wards to keep out the undesirables.”

“Yes, and obviously, it isn’t working.”

He ignored her sarcasm. She’d come around.

“The flowers are…broken.”

Nikolaus shrugged. He handed her the lackluster bouquet, truly upset that it wasn’t as he’d intended. Though he was thankful for the snack. Turning his face from her imploring gaze, he lifted the door and set it into place.

“Is there blood on that one?” she wondered aloud. “No don’t answer that. You know, a single rose would have served. Not that I’m saying I like flowers…”

Again he ignored her lack of kindness, because he didn’t sense her usual venom. Besides, he knew how to reduce her to an agreeable silence.

Soon enough.

“Has no man ever given you flowers before?”

“Nope.”

“Then it’s about time. I’m starved for you, sweetness. You been thinking of me?”

Sexy little number she wore tonight. Short silky bottoms and a top that exposed her cleavage. She wanted him. Else she’d have a stake at the ready.

“If you think a few broken roses are romantic, you’ve got another think coming.”

He spread his arms wide. “What does it take to please you, woman? Where you going?”

Nikolaus pursued the fleeing witch into the small closet off the living room. A fluorescent light hung from the ceiling. But he recognized the storage area for what it was.

“Nice,” he muttered as he took in the arsenal of weaponry stacked along the walls. Stainless-steel shelves and hooks held a vast array of deadly arms. There were pistols, modified rifles with scopes and GPS attachments, lasers and other things he couldn’t begin to guess at. Knives and daggers of every size, curved and straight blades, with handles that varied from pearl to bone to rock-hard PVC. Throw stars looked like something a ninja would whip at a target. And crosses, from small to large, all in silver, and most with hollow points. Waiting to be filled with blood?

“Unless you want a stake through the heart, I suggest you leave, vampire.”

“You’re kidding. A stake? They were
just
flowers.”

He shoved her against the wall of knives and kissed her. A blade slithered across another and fell, landing on the floor. Nikolaus felt it, a feather’s distance from his boot.

“Flowers are meant to please the recipient,” he said, “not anger her.”

“You’re not doing this right!”

“Doing what right? Romance? Yeah, I figured that.”

Always she had to fight his advances, but always she succumbed, as if she were a flower softening in the sun and opening to receive warmth. Would that he could be her sun. The best he could offer was moonlight and rose petals.

And yet, that particular seduction ploy had not gone over well at all.

“What do you want, sweetness?” He kissed down her jaw and nuzzled into the curve of her neck. No desire to bite. Now he wanted to feel her warmth and track the rapid pace of her heartbeats pulsing aside his cheek. “You want this as much as I do. What is it that I’m doing wrong?”

“You’re trusting the enemy,” she said. But instead of pushing him away, she gripped his shirt. Sharp black fingernails dug into his flesh.

“Do you know what you have done to me, little witch? I can touch logic, but I can’t act on it. All I can think about is you. Pleasing you, touching you, loving you. That’s not good.”

“You think?”

“You don’t understand. Right now, I stand on the verge of returning to Kila. When I should be thinking how best to command my men, my mind is off browsing for roses. And when I’m alone in the shower, I find myself wondering if you’re safe.”

He beat the wall over her head, knocking a dagger from its hook. It landed on the stainless steel counter and rattled a rack of brass-headed shotgun shells.

“Or I’m thinking I should have fixed that damned door, because someone might break in and harm you. Or earlier, when I bought those flowers, I found myself considering if you’d wear a dress. Can my tasty little witch be feminine? Would she wear red instead of her tough-girl black?”

“Whoa.” Ravin put up a hand. “Buddy. Step away from the witch. You’re creepin’ me out.”

“I’m creeping myself out! Ravin.” He gripped her by the shoulders. “This is not me. I…don’t bring women flowers. I don’t show up at the door—”

“I wouldn’t call breaking it down actually showing up.”

“I want to know how to romance you, Ravin. I want to know you better. Is that too much to ask?”

“Yes. Oh! I don’t know what I want. I want you. I hate you. I need you. I wish you were dead.”

“Been there, done that. What do you say we start a new story, eh?”

A palm to her chest told him her heartbeats scurried like a frightened rabbit. She had nothing to fear from him. What had become of the vicious vampire slayer?

For that matter, what had become of the tough phoenix vampire who wouldn’t think twice about doing everything in his power to take down a slayer?

This damned spell! Nikolaus could easily see himself hauling the witch over his shoulder to carry outside. Build a pyre, and let her burn.

He could see that, but the brain was telling his heart to intervene. To see beyond the label of
witch
, and to accept her as the gorgeous, intriguing woman she was. And so he did.

“I can accept that you’re a tough, unfeeling witch who wants the world to leave her alone. I get that. And you’re pissed at me.”

“More than pissed—utterly freaked. Nikolaus, you…you said you loved me.”

“And I do.”

“No, you don’t!”

“I know that!” Pounding his frustration out on the wall over her head knocked down more knives. One landed on a wood counter, tip first.

“Ravin, give me what I need right now. Let me give you pleasure. Let’s have sex, yes? Don’t say no, sweetness.” Nuzzling into her hair, Nikolaus tongued the curve of her ear. “A good orgasm should make you dizzy. I want to see you all woozy and smiling like you do after you’ve come.”

“Nik—”

“I understand what’s going on—that my actions are dictated by an artificial means—but I can’t fight the attraction. I don’t want to.” He breathed by her ear. “It feels too good standing in your arms right now, your body crushed against mine. You make the world go away, Ravin. So work with me. It’s the least you can do after putting this spell on me.”

“I never thought of it that way.” She pulled back and pressed a palm over his heart. “I did this to you. Which means I…owe you. I need to make up for putting you in this position. I just…”

“Isn’t there a part of you that can move beyond our differences and know that what we both want we can both give?”

She shifted from one leg to the other. The movement pushed her groin against his thigh. Nikolaus slid his leg between hers, pressing hard against her mons. It stirred up a moan from her that sang like a dark angel in his dreams.

“Tell me what you want, Ravin,” he growled deeply. Fitting his hands behind her hips, he pushed harder, working his thigh in minute lifts, knowing he massaged her sex through the thin black silk. “Do you want me to touch you?”

She managed a mumbled
mmpf
. Fighting the seduction. Yet her hands gripped at his forearms, keeping him close to her.

The
clink
of knife blades reminded Nikolaus of the precarious danger their actions teased.

“Where?” He trailed a breath across her throat. Peeling the thin satin strap from the pajamas from her shoulder, he twisted it around his forefinger and tugged until it broke from the stitches. “Tell me where you want me to touch you.”

“Just…”

His cock hard against her belly, he crushed it against her straining muscles, stoking the energy of his imminent climax.

Sliding his hand inside the silk bottoms, he glided over the soft hairs trimmed into a neat rectangle. He loved it when a woman did that to her body. Because it wasn’t just for her, was it? She wanted to be looked at, to be admired—whether or not the witch could admit that.

“Here?”

Her reply, reluctant, yet desperate, hissed against his neck. “Yes.”

Swollen and moist beneath his forefinger, her sex was ready. A firm glide up and down, not too far, not too hard, concentrating on the key to her arousal.

It wasn’t long before her body began to arch up against his chest, and she gripped behind her for support.

Blood spotted his forearm.

“Watch the knives,” he hissed, and flung her around against the doorframe. “This could turn into a twisted sideshow real fast if we’re not careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I trust you would never harm me.”

“You do?”

“I can’t believe I just said that. I…
trust
you.”

Smiling into her hair, Nikolaus decided an answer wasn’t necessary. But man, did it make him feel good to hear that confession.

“You’re so creamy,” he whispered. “Come for me, lover.”

He shoved down her pants with his free hand, while not stopping his patient exploration of her nub. She made quick work of his pants. When she reached the pinnacle he felt it in the tremor of her body against his—completely uncontrolled and richly mad with the shimmy of climax.

As she cried out, Nikolaus slid his cock up to the hilt. She was almost too small for him. Almost. Instead, she hugged him tightly, her body greedily holding him. It was all he needed to match her tremors with his own.

You can become the man you once were. Someone who cared, who did not stalk the night.

With the help of a witch?

No, you’ve accepted your life. It doesn’t need changing
. But his empty world could use a companion. Someone to love. Someone to love forever? To make his bride? What of family?

It could happen. And it would be good.

Ravin woke to the sound of rustling. Systematic sliding of…things. She turned over on the bed, where their frenzied coupling had finally landed them. “What the hell?”

Nikolaus turned around with a small leather box in hand. “Morning, sweetness.”

“What are you doing?” She scrambled to the edge of the bed and grabbed the box from him. He’d found it on the bookshelf, snooping, no doubt.

“Just browsing.” He turned his back to her and tapped a few book spines. Hair darker than the devil’s eyes fell to the center of his back, covering the tattoos and drawing her eyes to his firm ass. “Trying to get a bead on you. Figure you out. You can learn a lot about a person by—”

“Going through their things?”

“You bet. You got something special in that box?”

“No.”

“You’re clasping on to it as if the crown jewels are inside and I’m a cat burglar.”

“It’s none of your business. Quit going through my things.”

“I’m just reading book titles.
The Girl’s Guide to Getting It On. The Witching Hour. The Ultimate Musketeer.
”

“D’ Artagnan was my grandmother’s lover.”

“Thought he was a fictional character?”

“Based on a real man.”

“You’ve got a lot on France here.” He noted she still clung to the box. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you get your angry face on.”

She dropped the tension and the frown she hadn’t realized she wore. The tough slayer chick costume was ingrained. A very conscious move was required to
not
be that Ravin.

Who else is there to be? Do you really believe you can ever get your balance back now that you’ve involved yourself with a vampire?

She glanced to the window shades. Sunlight beamed in brightly around the edges. One dash. Lift the shades. Dead vampire. He wouldn’t even see it coming.

Like all your kills? Stalk them and catch them unaware? How sporting is that?

Sighing, Ravin looked aside. “What do you want to know?”

“Really?” He flashed her that charming rogue smile and slid onto the bed, cupping her chin to kiss her.

It was futile to resist. And if she was honest with herself—no, she didn’t want to be honest. The truth was too hard to deal with. She could continue to have great sex and ignore the white elephant, no problem.

“If your grandmother was romping around with musketeers, then it makes a guy wonder how long you’ve been on this earth. You’ve got some old books there. And that box of yours has the date 1682 inscribed on it.”

Possessive of the few things she had from her past, Ravin slid the box behind her and under the pillow, while distracting Nikolaus with a kiss. “It’s my grandmother’s. I was born in 1790. In Bulgaria.”

He whistled. “I thought you were an exotic breed. More than two centuries old. How does a woman like you survive so long and keep the anger so strong?”