Netherworld II: Blood Potion No. 9 (12 page)

I’ll admit I got defensive. I’d hurt
two men with my need to save Bane, and it was easy to give into the
shelter of anger. Anger is simpler than shame. So, true to
Brandilynn form, I pointed out, “You have your blood groupies. You
have sex with other women, what, two or three times a night? If
anyone has no right to argue, it’s you.”

Dan swung around to face us all. He
spoke through gritted teeth. “Keep her away from the Beasts,
Tristan. I don’t want her saving that agent again.”

I was still in anger’s thrall, and I
turned it on Boyfriend Number One. “Why don’t you just come right
out and call me a whore, Dan? I did what I felt I had to. I didn’t
have sex with Bane to hurt you or get my jollies.”

“But you had it. Why didn’t you go
poltergeist and distract them that way instead? Thrown some beer
bottles around, smashed some glasses? You could have done
that.”

That shut me up. Holy crap, he was
right. I could have sucked up energy from somewhere and trashed the
club, putting an end to C.K.’s homicidal homo hunt.

All the righteous fury drained out of
me. I really had screwed up big time. All I had to offer was, “I
swear, that never occurred to me. I panicked, okay?”

Scarier than the white-hot rage he’d
displayed earlier was Dan’s crystalline iciness. “No, Brandilynn.
It’s not okay. Not okay at all.”

He disappeared.

I burst into tears despite it being the
thing I most hate doing. I had ruined a great relationship with a
man I adored. Worse than that, I had hurt Dan, destroying trust in
the most horrible way a woman could. Stupid, stupid
Brandilynn.

Over my sobs I heard Patricia sigh, “Oh
boy. Should I go after Dan, see if I can find him?”

Tristan’s voice was heavy. “I’d
appreciate it. Thanks sweetie.”

“No problem.” Patricia left, leaving me
alone with Angry Boyfriend Number Two. The day just refused to look
up.

Chapter 6

I brought myself under control with a
lot of effort. When I had a handle on my upset, I saw that Tristan
had sat down on the leather couch in the periodicals section of the
room. I moved to stand close to him.

He watched me with a look I couldn’t
quite read. I didn’t dare speak first. Dan had already walked –
okay, de-materialized – out on me. I was afraid Tristan would
too.

Finally he said, “Did you really think
we’d be okay with you doing that?”

“It was stupid of me. But as God is my
witness, Tristan, it was all I could think to do at the
moment.”

He rubbed his forehead, looking really
tired. Ghosts don’t get tired, at least not physically. Tristan
rarely let people see him as anything but cool and unflappable.
“That really cut what you said about I didn’t have any reason to be
upset because I have sex with other women. You have a point
though.”

I regretted my choice of words. I knelt
at his feet, wanting to touch him but not having the guts to do so.
“Forget I said anything, okay? You’re a vampire. Blood and sex go
together. I know that.”

His dark eyes searched my face. He
shook his head almost violently. “It doesn’t have to. Plenty of my
kind get along on the bottled and pouched stuff. I could
too.”

Then joy of joys, he reached for me.
His hands closed over my upper arms and he pulled me into his lap.
I fought the urge to cry again as I snuggled against
him.

I had to make this right, somehow. I
had to keep Tristan. “The bottled stuff isn’t as good. No vampire
who can get it fresh from a donor drinks from a bottle.”

I wouldn’t do Tristan as a vampire if I
could. It is just too freaky even for me. But I’ll be honest. It
did hurt to know my sweetie had intimacies with other women, even
though as one of the fanged, he’s a very different man from his
ghostly aspect. Still, I’d put up with it. I love him that
much.

I was totally shocked when Tristan
said, “If the vampire loves someone enough, he will find a way to
stay monogamous with her.”

I pulled back to look him in the face.
“What are you saying?”

“If I gave up the blood groupies for
you, would you give up Dan for me?”

I stared at him, my mouth hanging open.
Emotions swirled within me: terror, delight, love, and
dread.

Tristan chuckled. “My little
commitment-phobe.” He turned serious again. “No need to answer
right now, Brandilynn. But once the blood supplies are safe again,
I’m willing to take that step. It’s time to choose one man. Neither
of us is going to share you much longer.”

The words popped out without me
thinking about them. “But I love you both.”

He grinned, flashing perfectly straight
teeth in a killer smile. “That’s why you’ve got to make one of us
happy and give the other his freedom. You didn’t think this
triangle would work forever, did you?”

I sank against him once more. “No. I
know I haven’t been fair to you two. But it’s hard,
Tristan.”

“I realize that. I haven’t been fair to
you either. Did you really just use the ‘L’ word?”

I had to laugh. “I did. And I meant it,
you conniving, ambitious vampire, you.”

His finger curled beneath my chin, and
he lifted my face to his. His slow, gentle, and sweet kiss made my
insides a gooey mess.

“I want to make love to you,
Brandilynn. No Dom and sub stuff. Just … us. Together.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“Sometimes vanilla is the best flavor.”

His clothes disappeared and mine
followed suit. He lowered me to the couch, the leather cool against
my back. We melded quickly, both of us wanting that connection that
made us one. And it was wonderful. Ghosts don’t usually do much in
the way of body heat, but he made himself warm for me, which felt
so good. His smooth chest was hard, bringing my nipples to eager
points as he moved up and down against me. I knotted my arms and
legs around him, holding him close. His slow thrusts rocked our
bodies, and I exulted in every movement of his cock rubbing in
long, determined strokes. We alternated between deep, penetrating
kisses and staring into each other’s eyes, as if we could pierce
the other’s soul.

After a little while, we rolled over so
that Tristan lay beneath me. I rode him as languorously and as
thoroughly as he had me. My hands braced against that sculpted
chest as I lifted and fell over him, working my hips in tight
circles. I reached behind me to caress his scrotum, making him moan
a sweet tune. He clutched my breasts, not too hard, but with a
firmness that made me gasp.

I leaned back, propping my hands on his
long thighs. He watched his cock slip in and out of my wetness, his
lips parted and his eyes dark. My body begged for me to take him
hard and fast, to reach orgasm, but his groans of, “Beautiful,
Brandilynn. So beautiful to see you like this,” stayed my selfish
urges.

It was beautiful. His swollen cock,
blushing slightly darker than his golden-brown skin, gleamed from
my moisture when I let it slide almost all the way out of me. And
watching as well as feeling it slip back in … oh, it was so good.
Despite my desire clamoring for release, I thought I could have
done this forever.

We’d had amazing sex that had given me
climaxes so intense that I was rendered blind and deaf while I
orgasmed. Tristan had put me in positions to give the most talented
contortionist nightmares. But until today, I thought perhaps we’d
never made love before.

His hands were all over me as I moved
on him, rubbing my breasts, ribs, belly, and mound. After awhile,
he settled his thumb over my clit, rubbing around and all over in
intricate patterns. I groaned and lost my rhythm as lightning
flashes of sensation bolted through me.

“God, Tristan! What are you
doing?”

“Practicing my A-B-Cs.” He grinned as
he played with the swollen nub.

“Are you kidding me?” I laughed between
gasps.

“Nope. See? A…” he drew the capital
letter over my clit with his thumb. “B…”

Hilarity warred with intense arousal.
“You lunatic. I don’t know whether to laugh or scream.” I was
working on both, breathless chuckles mingling with little shrieks
of sensual delight.

“C … D…”

“I swear if you start singing it, I’ll
strangle you.”

“E … F…”

“Gold stars for penmanship,” I moaned.
Arousal was winning out over amusement. I was heating up to a boil
fast. Climax would soon bubble over. I didn’t think I’d make it to
Z.

“G … H … I…”

Oh boy. The pressure built higher. A
slow spasm started from my clit, rippled up my passage, clenched my
womb. Warning shot number one. Tristan sighed in
reaction.

“J … K … L … M…”

Everything below flexed, tightening
like a fist. Warning shot number two. Tristan’s eyes rolled a
little then he grinned pure deviltry at me. He knew I was about to
lose it.

“N … O … P…”

Pure heat billowed from my nether
regions. I was at the cusp now, so close to climax I could taste
it. Tristan groaned. Final warning.

“Q … R…”

I flung myself forward, planting my
hands on his chest and digging my toes into the couch beneath us. I
rode him furiously, pistoning my sex over his, ending his schoolboy
recitation in a flurry of pounding flesh. His hands closed over my
hips, helping me by driving me up and down.

Igniting. Detonating. Exploding.
Flinging wide into space in a billion burning pieces. Oh God, yes.
Yes, yes, yes, yes.

Tristan’s groans joined mine, and I
went off again when I felt his cock twitch its surrender inside me.
I rode the pulses of elation with happy cries until he quit jerking
beneath me.

I wilted over him, snuggling against
his body in the warmth of afterglow. His arms banded around me,
holding me with a combination of strength and care.

“No other men besides Dan and me,
Brandilynn,” he whispered.

“I suppose I should be punished,” I
said. “I did you and Dan wrong.” Heavens, I sounded like a bad
country song.

“Maybe giving you discipline will make
things right between you and him again. Not that I particularly
want that to happen, but I’d do it to make you feel
better.”

He was so generous, and gratitude
swelled within me. “Thanks. I’ll leave the particulars up to you.”
I swallowed as I said that. Tristan was the textbook perfect Dom.
Giving him the power to truly punish me for cheating on him and Dan
would mean real discipline, the kind that didn’t have any part of
sexual fun and games.

And it might be for nothing. For all I
knew, Dan had already quit after my betrayal. Tristan might just
win Brandilynn’s One and Only Derby by default.

* * * *

It was late afternoon when I returned
to the Beasts club, and I discovered it was almost empty. The place
was oddly quiet, and I realized that for once the music system
wasn’t pounding. No one played pool or foosball, adding to the
strange silence. Only a couple of women were there, along with Bane
and a weregator wearing an enforcer patch like the werewolf’s. They
seemed to be wrapping up a conversation.

Bane fist bumped the weregator. “Yeah,
I’ll be back around seven or eight.”

Gator’s skin was greenish-gray, and he
had scales in patches where his open vest showed skin. His face was
elongated and unpleasant with sharp teeth. It occurred to me that
of all the Beasts, Bane and the couple of werebears I’d seen were
the only attractive men in the bunch. Hogs and gators just don’t
meld well with humans physically.

The weregator said, “All right,
brother. I’ll see you then.”

I perked up to discover I wouldn’t have
to spend depressing hours at the club. “Oh good, you’re leaving
this sty. I hope we’re going somewhere private so I can talk to
you.”

Even better, I hitched a ride on Bane’s
chopper, going with him to wherever he chose to end up. I could see
why dogs liked to hang their heads out car windows. This wind in my
hair thing was addicting.

We arrived at a doublewide trailer
situated a few miles away on a pine tree strewn lot. It was a
decent place, a brown and white mobile home (though these days,
they call it manufactured housing, like that makes it seem less
poor). White skirting hid the underside of the place, making it
more homey. It was plain but not a hovel by any means. Not even
redneck-y. Okay, if I would get my snobbishness out of the way, it
was nice. The tree cover kept it from having much of a lawn, but it
was kept neat and clean. The flashy little Nissan parked to one
side was cute. A stepping-stone walkway led from the packed dirt
driveway to the treated wood steps that gave access to the front
door. There was even a well-tended spider plant in a cute
blue-painted pot sitting on the railing.

I followed Bane through the front door
to discover Fizz enthusiastically vacuuming the living room. Her
blond hair was spiked into points, her black tee-shirt knotted
between her tiny breasts, her jeans tight enough to give her
camel-toe, and she perched on heels spiked from here to eternity.
Her face lit up as Bane stopped in the