Midnight in Berlin (17 page)

There weren’t any girls giving Christoph the eye this time. Maybe it was the lateness of the hour—too risky after dusk, or something. Or maybe it was because I’d gotten us seats at the end of the carriage and was glaring death threats at anyone who dared to look our way.

“You want to, uh, take a walk or something?” I asked as we stepped out of the subway at Schlesisches Tor, dodging a couple of drunks by the ticket machines who’d already racked up an impressive row of beer bottles for the
Flaschensammler
.

“No. But you should go if you need some air. I’ll be in our room.”

Damn. I didn’t want to go if he wasn’t coming, but every single way I could think of to say that made me sound like a little girl. “Yeah, sure. I’ll see you back in the hostel.” I started walking off toward the river.

I also started counting the reasons why us splitting up at this point was a really bad idea. By the time I’d gotten as far as the riverbank, I was running out of fingers, and I hadn’t even reached “because it never went well for Scooby and the gang” yet. I turned around and headed straight back, walking a little faster this way.

Running up the stairs in the hostel, I’d pretty much convinced myself Christoph had (a) run out on me and (b) gotten himself killed already. I was irrationally annoyed when I found him in our room, lying on the damn bed staring up at the ceiling like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“You’re back,” he said, like he was surprised to see me.

“Did you think I was going to bail?” I snapped.

His mouth twitched in a half-smile. “No. You left your backpack.”

“Fuck you,” I muttered, hurt. I flung myself on the other bed, the wooden slats groaning worryingly. I couldn’t get comfortable—the mattress felt lumpy, and my limbs were itchy and restless—so after a moment I heaved myself up again and went to stare out the window. The view hadn’t improved any since last time I’d looked.

The room felt too small with both of us in it, but I wasn’t about to leave him on his own again. My hands curled into fists, my nails biting into the palms of my hands. I’d really thought there was some kind of a connection between the two of us in the restaurant, but it seemed to have snapped, leaving me feeling like an amputated limb about to be thrown in the hospital trash. I wanted to fix it, but I didn’t know how. I was furious at myself, and him, and the whole goddamn world. “Sure you shouldn’t be off giving Flower-boy a farewell fuck?” I asked pissily. Something in me seemed determined to pick at this spot until it turned into a boil.

Christoph’s bed creaked softly. I didn’t look around to see if he’d gotten up and was coming over, but the hairs on the back of my neck prickled, and my breathing hitched just a little. “Florian and I aren’t lovers,” he said.

My sneer reflected in the window—and I realized I could see Christoph too, still lying on the bed. My spirits dropped a little further. “Sure you aren’t. I heard what Tobias said about your
pretty little pet
.”

There was a moment of absolute stillness. When Christoph spoke again, he sounded amused, the bastard. “I think you misunderstood who he was referring to.”

“Jeez, Christoph, who else have you got stashed away?” I snarled. Why the hell were we even having this conversation, anyhow? Oh, yeah. Me. I’d started it.

Stupid me.

Christoph’s voice was soft, a little rough, as he answered my question. “Only you.”

I whirled, my heart pounding.

“I picked you up near the Tiergarten late at night, remember?” he carried on. “I think they all assumed I’d made up the story of thinking you one of us. Or at least—”

“They assumed you’d been thinking with your dick?” My head felt kind of light. “Hell, I guess you ought to be glad Schreiber wasn’t too strung up on making the punishment fit the crime.”

“Agreed.” He shuddered, but there was a smile on his lips.

I uncurled my fingers, my palms throbbing anew at the release of pressure, and took a deep breath. Somehow, the tension in the air had gone—or maybe just been replaced by tension of a whole different kind. “So I’m your type, huh?”

Christoph’s expression altered. He turned away to speak to the wall. “You have to ask?”

I remembered the way he’d looked at me, that night we met. Like he’d wanted me so bad he could hardly wait to get me on my own. Yeah, I was his type, all right. I felt warmth spread through me as I looked at him. “You must have thought Christmas had come early. You meet another werewolf—at least, you thought you had—and it turns out he’s available and,” I smirked, “kind of hot?”

Christoph half smiled. “Maybe I was thinking with my dick. Just a little. But at least I was thinking.”

I was wounded. “Hey, what the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

He rolled his eyes at me. “Drunk, alone—accepting lifts from strangers?”

Okay. Maybe he had a point. “Guess I paid for that.”

“It could cost you even more next time. Don’t do it again,” he said quietly, all trace of a smile gone.

Shit. He was telling me to
be safe
. With a strong suggestion of
after I’m dead
. I swallowed, a sick feeling churning in my guts. He was probably going to fucking die tomorrow. This was our last night together. In the morning he’d go off and fight werewolves, and I’d just carry on living my crappy, useless life.

My heart was beating funny. Probably something to do with the way it was currently lodged in my throat. I couldn’t just let him go. Not like this. Not without trying to make that connection again. Even if it’d cost me more in the end. “You want to, uh, do something?”

“Something?”

“You know. Me. You. A bed. Jeez, do I have to draw a goddamn diagram?”

“There’s an English phrase for this, isn’t there? A ‘pity fuck’?” He was doing the Von Henzau voice again.

I turned away, coloring. “It’s not… So do you want it or not?” Damn it, did he want me to beg?

“Do you?” His voice was low, throaty.

“Yeah,” I said hoarsely, staring at the bricks in the wall opposite the window.
So fucking much
, I didn’t add.

Maybe he read it in my body language. There was blur of movement from his reflection in the window, and then his hands were on my hips, and his mouth was inches from the back of my neck. I shivered, my eyes falling closed in desperate relief as I felt his hot breath on my skin. His hands were moving up and down, soothing my hips through the denim of my jeans. I felt a whisper of a touch against my shoulder, but my shirt was too damn thick to know if it was a kiss or not. “Take off my shirt,” I pleaded.

“Take it off yourself.”

Fucker. My fingers trembled and slipped on the buttons, and I yanked the shirt off roughly, as if I wished Christoph could feel it when the seams parted with a rip.

“Shh,” he said into my neck, and I almost came apart right then. His hands were on my shoulders, steadying me, and God, I needed them. They felt cool—but the rest of him was burning hot. I could feel every inch of his bare chest, a hairsbreadth away from my back. When the hell did he take his shirt off? I didn’t realize I was pulling away from him until he pulled me back, the almost pain of his fingertips digging into my flesh comforting me. Grounding me.

A jolt ran through me as our bare torsos met, his chest against my back—and simultaneously, I felt the hard bulge of his erection through our pants. I jerked, startled, and put my hands on the wall either side of the window to steady myself. If anyone walked along the alley below and looked up, they’d see me silhouetted against the window. It shouldn’t have made me harder, thinking of that. But oh, God, it did. Like this was a public claiming.

“You want this?” Christoph asked, his hands on my shoulders loosening their grip but not quite leaving me.

I wasn’t certain of much anymore, but damn, I knew I wanted this. Needed it, even. “Yes,” I said, but it came out as a croak. “Yes,” I said again, louder.

Christoph let out a long, shuddering breath that rolled across my skin like a tsunami. His loose hair fell across my shoulder as he leaned down to kiss my feverish skin. I shivered, and his hands ran softly down my sides and around to the fastenings of my jeans. With a sure touch, he opened them up and pushed them down my hips, leaving me in my way-too-tight underwear. Every featherlight brush of his hands against my cock was torture. I could hear my own breathing turning ragged. “Take them off too,” I stuttered.

This time he left off with the smart-ass comments and just did what I’d asked him to. I guess he’d figured out my hands were shaking way too much to get the job done. Slender fingers insinuated themselves beneath the waistband of my underwear and eased it over my swollen cock. It should have been a relief—but the lack of even the scant friction provided by damp cotton left me feeling bereft, abandoned. “Touch me,” I begged.

Christoph ghosted his hands over my hips, those long fingers teasing at my groin but never quite touching where I wanted them to. Where I needed them to. My hips bucked involuntarily, and the tip of my straining dick touched the cold window pane, sending a jolt of electricity along my spine and leaving a wet mark on the glass. I moaned. Christoph’s hands stroked around, started to knead my ass. “Oh, God…” My hips bucked again, and this time it wasn’t an accident.

“
Halt
.” Christoph’s voice was harsh, raw. “Don’t move.”

He backed off. As I stood there, still and obedient, with my dick out to the world, I heard the soft, beautiful sound of his clothes coming off. I spread my legs a little wider in anticipation, desperate to feel him inside me. For fuck’s sake, I hadn’t even seen his dick yet. Not the way it would be now—hot and hard, dark with engorging blood. My whole body was sensitized, aching for his touch, and when he placed his hands back on my hips, I nearly jumped through the goddamn window.

“Shh,” he said again.

“E-easy for you to say,” I stammered. One of his hands was circling, and a long, thin finger brushed my crack. “Stop teasing me.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” There was the ghost of a laugh haunting the back of my neck—and then he grabbed me around the waist and swung me away from the window and onto one of the beds.

I landed in a sprawl, facedown on the comforter. “Fucker!”

“Of course.” He was on top of me, caging me in with his long, long limbs. “I thought that was what you wanted?”

He seemed to want me on my hands and knees, but I was damned if I was letting him have it all his own way. Wresting myself out of his grasp, I twisted, turning over, until I was half sitting, half lying on the bed, my weight on my elbows. Christoph backed off a little, kneeling between my outstretched legs. When he turned his head away to the left, I shifted so I could reach forward and grab his chin with one hand. “Look at me,” I told him, although it came out sounding more like a plea. “Look at me, damn you.”

He let me turn his face until the scars were clearly visible. I could remember finding them repulsive, but the revulsion was gone like it had never existed. They were just there. Part of Christoph now. I dared to stroke my thumb over the jagged ridge closest to his mouth, and he closed his eyes, breathing hard. “Hey, look at me,” I whispered.

“I don’t want your pity,” Christoph growled, a fierce challenge in his eyes.

“No pity,” I agreed. “Just a fuck.” His face seemed to close off a little. I panicked, thinking maybe I’d blown it. “So fuck me already,” I snarled, cupping my hand behind his neck and pulling him down toward me.

For a moment, he resisted—then his body turned pliant, and he unfolded himself down against me. Our cocks met, and I groaned aloud. His weight was on me, pressing me down into the mattress, and damn, but it felt good. I found his mouth and kissed him, hard, tasting subtle spices and a desperate hunger to match my own. When I finally let him go, we were both panting. “You ever fuck in wolf form?” I asked.

Christoph gave me a slow smile. “No. Maybe we should try it sometime.”

Sometime in hell, maybe. That thought got lost with all the rest of them as he bent his head to my chest. He peppered my skin with gentle nips and bites that turned more savage as he reached my nipple. I arched up against him, all but begging him to hurt me, mark me. Suddenly I couldn’t wait, couldn’t take this slow. “Need you,” I gasped, pressing up with my hips to illustrate the point.

Christoph muttered a curse and pressed back, sliding back up me until our faces were level once more and his cock like a heated iron bar jabbing into my hip. I slid a hand in between us and maneuvered a little until I could wrap my fingers around both of us at once.

“God, that’s good,” Christoph gasped into my neck. “Don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t…planning…to,” I panted, working us both roughly with my hand as his teeth grazed my ear. The heat between us was incredible, our skin slick with sweat. I could feel everything—the cheap cotton sheets beneath me, their rough texture oddly grounding. When I pressed my mouth to Christoph’s shoulder, the taste of salt and musk made me bare my teeth, hungry for more.

“Don’t…stop…” Christoph’s voice was rougher than I’d ever heard it—and then he bit down hard on my shoulder, his whole body tensing. For a crazy moment, I was right back in the forest that night we’d met—and then I was coming so hard it nearly killed me.

Chapter Seventeen

As we lay there, afterward, the reaction hit, and I felt like a coward. I’d been scared—too scared to let him in. In more ways than one. Didn’t he deserve more than just half of me—tonight, of all nights?

Something twisted inside me. Half of me or all of me—was there really all that much difference? And maybe it was better this way. Chances were, this time tomorrow he’d be dead. Maybe it was better to keep it casual, keep it from going too deep.

All I knew for certain, though, was that I felt like a coward.

“Are you Jewish?” Christoph said, stroking my shoulder. I guess he’d noticed I was circumcised. Guys in Europe tend to assume that means something.

“Yeah, but I’m not religious. My folks never bothered keeping kosher and all that crap.” Hell, I hadn’t even gotten a Bar Mitzvah. I’d been pretty pissed about that at the time. A guy in my class at school walked away with a fortune from his. Then again, my relatives were tight bastards anyhow.