Love Is Fear (28 page)

And then he cheated.

He slipped his hands around to the front of her body, cupping her breasts, lifting them, pressing his palms and fingers flat against her, then stroking his thumbs across her nipples gently. His hands traced down, one going around her hips, settling on her buttocks, the other slipping between her legs and the seam of her jeans, where a hot ache spread from her in waves. His hand pressed against her clitoris and she closed her eyes, leaning forward and swiping her tongue against his neck like he wanted.

She locked her lips onto his flesh, let him feel the dull edges of her teeth as she sucked. His hands moved, one on her lower back, pressing her close, the other in her hair, holding her against his neck as he groaned and hissed out a breath of desperate want in her ear. Making sure she didn’t stop. He was thrusting lightly, so that the friction of him pleasured her, mimicked what his fingers or tongue would do to the pulsing center of her body if he got her out of her clothes.

The blood filled her mouth and she swallowed. She knew he could feel it by the way his hands convulsed as she took that first gulp. Her name fell from his lips like a litany. The vowels accented, the usual blandness of his words gone, voice filled with the sound of desperate passion.

Her teeth sank into his flesh again, wanting to coax more blood from him. Lucas liked that, gave a low cry. The blood blazed through her, hitting her stomach like whiskey— smoky, hot, and then burning.

She felt her body changing. A soul deep realignment as her blood vessels swelled, reacting and making her wet. And beyond that, somewhere deep inside, was that locked box of power. Like a treasure chest lost on the bottom of the sea, his blood found it, pulled it to the surface, smashed it open, releasing power into her body.

She needed to do something with it. She was 
supposed 
to do something with it. But what? How?

It was as if there was a gun pointed at her head, but she couldn’t find her dammed wallet to give to the thief.

The urgency of it was there and she realized Lucas was talking to her, had been talking to her for a while now and she’d been so in her own head, her own body, turned around in her own raw power she hadn’t heard a thing he said. “Make me come,” he said, over and over again.

How the hell did she do that? The power was like a mudslide, coating her, sweeping her away, dragging her under, unhappy that it was directionless. Could it turn on her?

“
Think it, channel the power to me. Think of your desire, think of what you want from me. You can bring me with it. Valerie, you-” And then he kissed her hard and the blood was back, copper and gold in her mouth that he drank down, the a drop of blood coming from the wound on her lip.

There. 
That was what she’d needed. She made her thoughts sharp, focused on Lucas. All her will, all her energy on him. How she wanted him, wanted him to come—

No.

That wasn’t what she wanted. She dredged up all of her memories where she felt her own happiness and pushed it into him—A hug, a kiss, a funny movie, knowing someone loves you, laughing with a friend, doing something well and achieving a goal. All those things she wanted him to feel. Remember.

The magic was like a leviathan, slow to turn and follow, hard to make it go where she wanted to, but then she caught it, held it, focused every single part of her on that goal. She felt each vibration and pulse going from her to him, like waves sloshing in a pool, the energy bouncing off on one side and back again.

When he released her, his head dropped down to her shoulder, his breathing unsteady. Finally, he looked at her quizzically. “What did you try to do?”

“
I tried to make you happy.” She knew she was blushing.

“
Why? I thought you were going to bring me.”

“
I can do that anytime,” she said saucily, snapping her fingers to show how quick it was.

His brows raised but he didn’t challenge the statement. Then he turned his head away from her, giving her just the strong profile of him as he smiled, chuckled lightly.

“
I wanted you to be happy. I guess it didn’t work.” She tried to shrug like it was no big deal. He stood, lifting her away from him and she felt alone, not just sexually but because she had thought she was on to something.

He shook his head and looked back at her. “No,” a really long pause, a shaky breath, and then quietly, like a secret, he said, “No. It did work. I was simply surprised.”

“
Maybe your idea of happy and my idea of happy are two different things,” she said. 
So why don’t you tell me about it!? !

He nodded his head very slightly and clasped her hands in his, raising her hands and twining his fingers through hers. “I thought you would give me the pleasure of sex and I suppose over time, the fleeting ecstasy of release is as…close to happiness as we get.”

He blinked rapidly for a moment and stepped away from her, letting her go, putting his hands behind his back. “But that is not happiness. I had forgotten. Thank you.”

Her throat was tight with unshed tears. What did he mean? What had he felt?” So it was happiness?”

“
It was… a memory from very long ago. I didn’t feel the happiness of it, so much as the moment….” His smile was real and human. “I remembered my daughter learning to ride her horse. It was like I could feel the horse’s mane under my palm, knew the heft of the leather bridle. She’d hold out her arms at the end of our lesson, and I would always smell the sun on her hair. Anyway, Iwas reminded of that.”

“
You felt that?” she asked, hope in every syllable.

His brow furrowed, like he was thinking of lying or something. “As a young boy in my father’s keep, I always knew when it was a feast day. The men would stay up late, drink a lot,and everything was very loud. Rowdy as the night wore on. I would be sent to bed with the other children and yet I could hear them through the walls. I was not in on the joking nor was I part of the festivities, but it was a comfort to know it was there. The feeling was like that, not something I was involved in, but it was…good to have it so close.”

He tucked her hair behind her ear almost reverently. “Your power is wild and unused. The more comfortable with it you become, the more you can alter it. Emotions can be less or more. You can give pain, take away pain, even steal memories. Your power is a strength. And given time, you could wield it like a weapon.”

“
Would you like that?” she asked, unsure what answer she wanted.

“
I want you safe. I want you to know how to protect yourself and to have defenses. And maybe, one day, I would like that.” He gave her a light kiss on the lips, so soft and warm that it was like the first day of spring. Her heart melted, leaving the surrounding snow temporarily forgotten.

Chapter 
28

Jack watched Valerie go ‘talk’ to Lucas. He was the grim reaper and they were all at his mercy. Waiting for him to pick them off, one by one.

He still couldn’t believe he had tried to shoot him. He knew with every fiber of his being that a bullet—even a dozen bullets—would have no impact on Lucas, but he just had to.

He’d snapped. Panicked. Been overcome with rage. Killing Lucas accomplished something. Shooting him did nothing.
I’m a fucking idiot
. He was lucky Lucas hadn’t killed him. A small part of him wondered if he’d done it on purpose, egging Lucas on.

Val had warned him, just about begged him, not to send her to him. To leave Lucas alone, and smug asshole that he was, like his prick was made out of diamonds, he’d told her she’d be fine. He’d actually believed he’d be able to keep her safe. Why? What kind of track record did he have for keeping anyone safe? Not his parents. Not Nate. And now Val.

He needed to hit something. Was stuck taking a deep, unsatisfying breath instead. 
Yeah, really not that great. Like some yoga bullshit is going to be enough to erase this rage. 
The rage of failure, of looming disaster, sat on his chest like a Mack truck.

And the rage of goodbye, because that monster would take her from him if he could. And that was Jack’s fault. 
Fuck
! He punched the wall, pain chasing away the despair and anger so he felt—not better—but different.

“
He won’t hurt her,” Rachel said from near the door. He’d almost forgotten about her. Turned his back on a vampire.
Christ
. He was fucking worthless.

His voice sounded pulverized. “He’s already hurt her. It’s his fault she’s here. That we’re all here. We’re going to die here because of this hare brained scheme.” Then he turned, stalking towards her. She didn’t move overtly, but there was
something
 that made him think she was on her guard.

Why? An unarmed, puny human that she could kill whenever she wanted to. Another glaring example of how stupid he was. How weak. Since the day his parents had died he’d been cautious. He had always double checked everything. When the odds were impossible and death was likely, one was damned careful. That was the only reason he had lived for so long.

Now he was out of his depth. Not acting, but reacting. And failing.

Jack caught that almost imperceptible flinch on Rachel’s face, and it made him brave. 
You like her being afraid of you.
And that fucked up thought rekindled his anger so that he continued towards her, watching almost hungrily as her back pressed harder into the door. He boxed her in.

She took a shaky breath.

His hands slapped the wood on either side of her head. He looked into her face and let the anger—his only constant friend—boil to the surface.

More anger, more disgust for himself and this 
thing
 with her. Her eyes were wide. As if she were afraid. And he wondered if she was mocking him. Pretending to be worried before she laughed at him.

Her lips were smooth and full, her eyes vivid, cheekbones almost sharp. She looked like an actress. Not a model, who would take beautiful photos from one angle and look odd from another, but icy perfection from all angles. And that brittleness that lurked under the surface.

Vulnerability
.

But for what?

His instincts as a hunter, as a killer, honed in on that weakness, like a cheetah finding the sick gazelle in the herd.
Isolate her. Take her down
. 
Easy prey
. The closer he got to her, the easier she was. “Do you think we’re going to die here?” he asked her with a lover’s tone. Gruff and intimate, searching for the smallest sign of trickery on her porcelain face.

“
No. I think we’re here for a purpose,” she said. Too loud for how close he was.

“
What’s that? So he can drink her blood and kill her? So you can have mine?”

She ripped her gaze away, and he felt the victory of that. Like he was right, and acknowledging it made her weaker.

“
The Fey will come for us. When the Fey want you, you don’t escape. There is no running from them.”

He stepped in a little closer. Close enough to see a tiny freckle on her neck. “You say that like you’re afraid.” A whisper.

“
I am. We should all be afraid of the Fey. Lucas especially. They’re the bogeymen, the monsters under the bed that made vampires frightened,” she said, staring over his shoulder.

He couldn’t help but see the rise and fall of her chest. “And you’re afraid. You’re worried, is that right? Every time I see you, you’re different. One day you’re confident. One day you taunt. The next day you burn. And now you’re afraid.” 
Is there anything real about her?

She bit her lip.

His anger coalesced, had a target now. Her response to him and that he liked it made everything worse. Made him feel dangerous. The flip side to self-loathing. “Every day is different, and every day is false. Why would Lucas come here if it’s so dangerous to him?”

“
I don’t know.”

“
That’s bullshit. You 
know
,” he said, hand smacking against the wood, right next to her ear. It sounded like a gunshot and she reacted the same way—jumped, trembling with a desire to run away.

He lifted his hand and he could feel her terror and indecision. His hand cupped her jaw, holding her in place, trapping her with her own desire for him. The barest touch and she froze. He didn’t need to be a vampire to compel her or beat her, all he had to do was touch her and she crumbled before him.

If it’s real.

She made the faintest sound, almost of despair, her body trying to sink further into the wood, as she let him overpower her.

Because that was the truth, and they both knew it. She could kill him, escape him, hurt him with her physical strength. And yet she seemed paralyzed. Weak. Like he was the one with all the power.

She was tall. So tall that her mouth was perilously close to his.

“
He hates us,” she said. A bare breath of sound.

Jack put his hand on her neck.