Love Is Fear (27 page)

“
Yeah, and I like it,” she said, disappointed to be distracted from sex, relieved to not think about what he couldn’t give her.

“
You need to talk to Jack. If we cannot convince him to drink my blood voluntarily….” The sentence trailed off, hanging out there like Wile E. Coyote after he’s run full-speed off the cliff before plummeting to the ground.

Oh crap
. “Alright, you’re going to have to finish that sentence. Let’s get it all out in the open. No misunderstandings.”

He nodded. “I will do it involuntarily, if that’s what you wish.”

“
You’ll force him to drink your blood?”

“
I’ll compel him with my gaze, yes. If that’s what you want. It will be your decision.”

She wanted to protest. 
Me? Why is it my decision?” 
And if I say no?”

“
You know the answer,” he said implacably.

She huffed, “So then how is it my decision?”

“
It is your decision whether we ask him or whether I take the liberty to do what needs to be done on my own.”

“
Is that 
really
 the only option? Can’t we wait a bit and see if we get out of here?”

“
Optimism is not typically a successful strategy.” He set her down, crossing his arms. “I do not know. If I leave you here while I go look for a way out, it will weaken me to wade through this much snow. It is at least a yard high.”

“
You mean three feet?”

“
It’s an abominable unit of measurement, but yes. Three
feet
.”

“
How far could you get, before you would need…blood?”

He acted like her saying the word was a slap. 
What, is the mere word a turn on?

“
The way things are now, I can go for a month without feeding. Even feeding you, Jack and Rachel, I still would not need sustenance for a few weeks. If I go into the wild and look for a way out once or twice, that time frame could drop down to a week, perhaps less, before I would need food.”

“
Right now we have no way to go anywhere. Let’s say Rachel sends her will out, isn’t it possible she could find
something
 and then you could check it out? Then your trip would be focused?”

“
We would both need blood if we did that.” He crossed his arms, like he was settling in for an argument.

“
I feed you and you feed Rachel.”

“
I cannot feed from you. I do not know what would happen. ”His voice was implacable.

“
You’re not being reasonable. You’ve already had a few drops. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“
Slaughter.”

She scowled. “Concise.”

She watched as he lifted his hands to his mouth, blowing on his fingers. Did that work since he was a vampire?” Oh! I get it. You’d need to drink from 
Jack
.” She laughed. She couldn’t help it. The hilarity of the situation was overwhelming. Not only would Jack 
freak
 out but it would be quite the picture. She stopped laughing. Lucas piercing Jack’s neck and drinking his blood. In a twisted way, she suspected that would be super-hot.

But Jack wouldn’t allow it. No, that made it sound trivial. As though Jack wouldn’t eat a meat-lover’s pizza because he was a vegetarian. His parents and the way they had died. What he had seen over the years…. Feeding Lucas would really screw with his head.

“
There must be some way to ensure you have my blood without you becoming violent,” she said. “Besides you 
always
say that, and now you’ve had my blood twice and you’ve been fine. I think the lady doth protest too much.”

His hands gripped her arms lightly, trying to rub warmth into them. “My luflych, thou cannought quoth Shakespeare to me.”

His hand cupped her cheek, and she leaned in to him. 
My love
, he’d said. It made her warm inside, the silly term of endearment that he rattled off simply to show that his Middle English was better than hers.

“
If you were a full blooded empath who knew her powers, maybe. That would change things. Then it’s a matter of trust, not violence.”

“
Why trust?” she asked, her voice soft.

“
Trust you wouldn’t harm me, kill me… permanently enslave me.” His words were a bare a whisper before her, like the air would carry them away just as they reached her unless he kept close.

She felt the world narrow down to the two of them, an odd shimmery thing between them, an idea, just a kernel that was there for only them to see. Almost a dream, or a wish, to be so close, so connected that he’d trust her, and she’d trust him.

What was deeper than that? More seductive than giving yourself to someone because you knew they wouldn’t hurt you? Because hurting the one you love would be just as bad as hurting one’s own self.

Then he smiled and took a step back, his hands coming up to his face, coveringhim for a moment so she could only see his eyes. Like the connection was too much and he was erasing any outward display of how he felt, making himself a perfect blank mask again.

His hands came down, his arms folded across his chest and he said, “The evil glint in your eye makes me glad that is not a possibility or else I would be doing dishes and cleaning for the rest of my life.”

She felt a slow smile spread across her face. “I’m not sure I had anything so domestic in mind, actually. A man of your skill and looks, I’m not sure you’d ever make it to the kitchen.” She leaned in to kiss him and then pulled back, chastising herself.
Serious shit first, flirting later.

“
Is there any other way, besides drinking from Jack?” She bit her lip in agitation, but it hurt because of where he nicked her, and she reached up to touch the cut. Lucas walked away from her, all the way against the wall—putting distance between them.

If Jack was the only option, she’d have to decide if she was willing to allow that, let him take away Jack’s will, violate him and then what? Pretend it never happened? Hope he’d forgive her if they made it out of here alive and she came clean in a Geraldo Rivera kind of way?

“
If Jack allowed Rachel to drink from him and I drank from her immediately after, that would sustain me.”

It killed her to say it, brought images to her mind that she hated. “Then why don’t you drink from Rachel and leave Jack out of it?”

“
We both need live blood. We cannot survive on vampire blood alone. It is power yes, but we are creatures of death. We need life to sustain ourselves. He is the only human. It must be him.”

She shook her head and felt the need to pace, not just because it was fucking freezing but because there were too many bad options and she wanted to leave them all behind and pretend they didn’t exist. Also, it really creeped her out to talk about Lucas being a creature of death.

“
I’m telling you now, there is no way in 
hell
 Jack would let Marion’s girlfriend—the woman who killed his parents while he watched— drink his blood. He’d rather die.”

Lucas shook his head. “I think you are wrong.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Are you fucking crazy?” Her heart started to pound, and Lucas shook his head, like shaking off a blow. Could he hear it?

“
No, I am observant. And that is why we are in here discussing this. Because I think he will let her, and you need to be prepared for that.”

“
Me? Why me? He hates vampires. You heard him. He’d rather die than let one feed off of him!” She almost spit the words at him, she was so angry. “If you let her roll him with her gaze, it will be over between us, do you understand? I don’t want her near him. Promise me that the moment we get out of here she won’t go near him again.”

“
I do not police her.”

“
Bullshit. You can. You 
should
. I don’t want her with him.”

“
Jealous?” he said, the words barely audible.

She felt nauseous. “She’s toying with him. It’s sick. This isn’t about jealousy, it’s about not wanting someone I love to be tortured. You’re talking about letting her feed on him, and it would break him.” She could barely speak through the choking sensation in her throat.

“
Listen to me. Stop. Listen.” He was trying to make eye contact with her, wanted her to understand, his hands on her shoulders, leaning forward so that their faces were close together.

She looked at him, and his hand went around her nape, possessively, his fingers lacing through her hair. He kneaded the back of her neck, like forcing a comatose person to swallow water— forcing the knowledge down into her whether she wanted it or not. “He is drawn to her, the same way you are drawn to me. It’s a very fine line between love and hate. He wants to kill vampires, and in that is a desire, almost as strong, to master one.”

She tried to shake her head no, but his grip tightened a little. She didn’t mind, didn’t feel like pulling away, just noticed it, and allowed it because she needed him to understand too. And the connection, his hands upon her, his face close to hers, meant he’d understand her, too. “That’s fucked up and wrong. I can see how that could happen, but not with him.” Tears filled her eyes, coursed down her cheeks before she could blink them back.

He swore, not in English, something with lots of harsh consonants, and then he pulled her to him.

Why am I crying? Because he’s mine. He’s always been mine. 
Or was it because he’d always been a beacon of goodness,and Rachel was not good, but evil. Jack was the standard she was always supposed to have lived up to. The one she failed.

And if he’d go to her, let her drink because he wanted it, then she didn’t know him after all. If that was true, she’d only known the 
idea
 of him, and she’d been wrong for years.

She was the weak one, the fucked up one who wanted a vampire despite what one of them had done to her mother. Jack was better than that. She felt her legs give out, but Lucas supported her.

That wasn’t fair to Jack. To put that responsibility of moral perfection on his shoulders. Had she done always done that? And had she always felt like he was so much better than her? How could anything have worked between them if she really felt that way? 
Duh. It couldn’t.

“
You need to leave this alone,” he said persuasively. Not with vampire powers but with a sincere conviction. “You must be prepared for him to allow her to feed from him. Do not interfere or else I will take away his will and give him to her. Do you understand? We could all die here.”

She felt a touch of power that he put into the words. She pulled back from him, kicked at his shin as she jerked her head to the side, but his grip tightened a little, not letting her go.

He shoved her body flat against his, so that she’d have a harder time kicking him. She felt like a mummy, she was wrapped so tight against his body.

Her head was pressed to his shoulder, close to the crook of his neck, and she was angry, furious that he was telling her these things, and that he’d dared to use that touch of power on her. Had it worked? She tilted her head upwards, the only part of her that she could move, and bit him, determined to hurt him, make him let her go. She’d leave him and this awful conversation behind.

Because he was wrong. He didn’t know a damned thing.And he’d tried to roll her. That was not part of their relationship. It was a betrayal.

The bite was harder than a press of lips or a kiss, harder than a nip or a love bite. So hard that he groaned and shuddered, his legs collapsing, taking her to the ground.

As they fell, his hands adjusted her legs so she straddled him. His cock became steel and he threw back his head in pleasure.

His blood hit her tongue like nicotine, suffusing her, cocooning her mind and body, sweeping down her like heroine and she cried out. His arms wrapped behind her keeping her in place as he thrust against her from below.

The blood tasted like wine with echoes of metal. The barest trace of dark magic, heady and powerful. Her body remembered it, shuddered in response, spasming in reflex and she bit harder, wanting to savage him. The small traces she was getting not enough to quench her sudden, rabid thirst.

“
Wait,” he breathed, the words agony as he rocked his hard length against her.

She pulled back and looked at him, breasts heaving against his solid chest. He reached up to his neck and she barely saw the knife. He shifted her slightly, aware of how squeamish she was, masking his movements.

When he turned back she could see the tiniest wound on his neck. Blood slid down into his shirt, a tiny crimson line against his smooth, white flesh. Her indecision was plain. What she wanted—to gorge upon him. What she should do—get the wiggins and bolt.

“
I need you strong. I need you to survive this. Let me give it to you.” His eyes were intense, almost vulnerable or defiant, but not quite either. She should go. She might need his blood, but she didn’t need it yet.