Night Myst (21 page)

“Did he ever try anything with you?” Grieve asked gruffly.

I shook my head. “Dane was one of the few who didn’t. He was a good guy. One night, we were hanging out, getting stoned. Krystal was out hooking for a few extra bucks. Dane was staring at me and when I asked why, he said he could see a wolf sitting next to me—a beautiful silver wolf with green eyes that came to life as he described it.”

“It was me,” Grieve whispered softly, drawing his hand across his eyes. “I remember. I did what I could in astral form to watch over you.”

“I know that now, but at the time, Dane’s vision just sounded so beautiful and I got to thinking about the protector in my dream. I asked him if he’d ink the wolf onto me and he agreed. I know it sounds stupid, letting somebody stoned tattoo you, but I knew—
absolutely knew
—that he wouldn’t fuck up, and that I had to have this tattoo. And he’d done the rest of my tats over the previous few months, so I knew he was good at his job. We spent the night getting high on Acapulco gold and he worked on the wolf’s head and the roses and skulls for five hours.”

I closed my eyes, remembering. Around eight, he’d put in a Gary Numan CD—
Outland
—and played it on a loop, over and over. The only sounds through the hours that passed were those of the Electronica Wizard of Oz, the hum of the tattoo gun, and our quiet pull on the joints that he’d lined up on the table.

I’d watched as the vision from my dreams came to life in brilliant color, first the wolf with his emerald eyes glowing, then the trail of roses and violet skulls that swept across my midsection, from thigh to side. It had hurt, but the pot helped me transcend the pain and lose myself in the experience.

Then, a little after one in the morning, Dane stood back and whispered, “My God, look at yourself. You’re beautiful.”

And I’d looked down, and found the wolf that had followed me in dream after dream come to life on my skin. And I knew that he would always be with me, would always be watching over me.

“The next morning, Krystal threw Dane out and smacked me across the face. She was convinced I’d fucked him. I finally got her to believe that he’d just tattooed me, but it was too late. That night, Dane was at work in his shop and some motherfucker came in with a gun and blew his brains out, took all his cash, and vanished into the night. Nobody ever caught him. The cops didn’t look very hard. Like so many of the people we met on the road, Dane was outside of the mainstream and the police considered him expendable.
Just another tattoo artist biker dude.
”

I fell silent, thinking of the tall blond man who’d painstakingly inked my body. I had fantasies that he would take us in, marry Krystal, give us a settled life. His death sent me into a deep depression, but Krystal had just blown it off, angry that her meal ticket had disappeared.

After that night, I’d guarded the wolf from public view, not wanting to share him with others. He felt like he was alive and sometimes I could hear him growling at me, warning me, calling me. Eventually, I figured out it was Grieve—whether his spirit or memory, I didn’t know. The men I’d slept with over the years hadn’t liked the tattoo much, but I didn’t give a damn. The wolf was part of me and I loved it like a good friend.

“And so here we are. You and I. Together again.” Grieve gently traced his fingers over the tattoo and I felt like I was diving off a cliff into a midnight pool, dark and sparkling, so deep that I would never touch bottom. I let out a choked gasp.
Please, no more. I couldn’t handle much more.

Aching to calm the raging hunger within, I slowly lowered my hand to rest on top of his.

“Cicely . . .” His voice was breaking.

“Don’t stop. I need you more than I can bear,” I said, closing my eyes against the approaching storm. Indigo Court or not, I had to feel him touch me, enter me, make me whole. “I can’t tell you what happened, but I can’t stand this tension any longer.”

Grieve moved in, his hand slowly trailing across my stomach to rest on my hip. He tipped my chin up and my eyes fluttered open. Those luminous stars studding their sea of onyx held me firm.

“Are you sure? Are you sure this is what you want?” He looked almost sad, but I could smell his arousal on the breeze, intoxicating and wild. He smelled nothing like Lannan had. Vampiric or not, Grieve was
alive
, and he was wild and passionate. Regardless of what anybody else thought, I knew he didn’t want to hurt me, he wanted to
love
me.

“Yes, please.” My words were muffled as he gathered me in his arms and pressed his lips against mine. I closed my eyes, sinking into the kiss. His lips were warm and vibrant, demanding and yet giving. He ran one hand up my cheek to brush my slick, wet hair back away from my face.

“No other man will ever touch you again—not if I can be there to stop him,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against mine. He began to kiss me—his lips fluttering over my eyes, my cheeks, my lips, down to my neck. I could feel his teeth against my skin, but he hesitated and drew back.

“Not yet,” he murmured, almost more to himself than to me. And then his mouth trailed kisses down my chest, teased my breasts as he slowly tugged on one nipple with his teeth, cautious not to pierce through the skin.

I was so wired all I could think was,
Please, please fuck me
. But Grieve wasn’t about to move that fast.

He walked me backward to the bed, and in a blur, his clothes were on the floor. He was lean and strong, his olive skin moist and glimmering. His hair hung over his shoulders like spun silver.
And he wants me.

As I gazed down his body, taking in his nakedness, I suddenly noticed something—something I’d never seen because I’d never seen Grieve in the light without clothes before. Even the first time, when I was seventeen, I hadn’t noticed the mark in the dusk of the summer’s evening.

On his upper right thigh, he had a tattoo of my face, of me as an adult, not as a child. A circle of silver roses and purple skulls surrounded my face. The same roses and skulls scattered through the vine near my wolf tattoo.

“That’s me! How long have you had that?” I asked, breathless, reaching out to touch my face inked onto his skin.

“You aren’t the only one linked in this relationship,” he said, gazing down at my finger as he smiled. “Since long before you were born. I didn’t let you see it last time. You had to make decisions on your own, without me influencing you. I told you, Cicely, I’ve been waiting for you. And someday I’ll tell you more, when you are able to remember.”

My wolf whimpered, a pleading cry, and I pressed against him.

“Make me forget the day. Make me forget everything except your touch.” I wanted out of my head, out of my thoughts, out of the bloody sleaze I’d been forced to witness at Regina’s party.

Grieve pulled me into his arms again, sliding one leg between my knees and I opened to his touch. As we went tumbling onto the bed, all I could hear was the rushing of winds, the soft hooting of owls, the howling of wolves, and my own heart racing. His hands slid over my body, down the length of my legs, and I let out a sharp cry as his fingers gently rubbed me into a frenzy of my own.

Every time he kissed me, white-hot fire—sizzling to a burn—raced through my body. I let out a cry, then another but he refused to stop and kept circling with one finger, driving me crazy with desire.

This is what you’ve been waiting for,
Ulean whispered, and a wind, desert hot and sultry, bathed me in fire.
This is why no other man seems to attract you. Dangerous or not, you were bound, you and Grieve, long before you were born into this lifetime.

Shaken, spinning, unsure of where my body left off and where Grieve’s touch began, the night became a blur of touch and motion and movement. His lips on my lips, on my body, licking, kissing, nibbling, grazing me with those sharp teeth that hurt so good. His hands were a vortex of motion and my own mirrored his hunger.

I reached out to touch him, then—suddenly needing to lead. I pushed him back on the bed and slid down his body, my tongue tasting the sweet musk of his sweat. I trailed down the center of his stomach, over his abs, down toward the fulcrum of his delicious V, down to meet his rising passion, to take him in my mouth, to taste the fiery autumn night that clung to his energy, his very flesh.

“Cicely.” His whisper was rough, his voice harsh, but behind my name was a plea for me not to stop, not to push him away.

I licked him full, licked him long in one stroke, my tongue tickling over the long pulse of his cock, circling the head and teasing him hard and harder still. And then, suddenly I was on the bottom, and he was over me, head between my thighs, and the sting of his teeth made me cry out in a choked voice.

“Let me in.” He rose above me, hips aiming, and I shifted to meet him as he slowly forged his way into my body, into my heart. The slow rhythm of his movements lulled me into a flower-shrouded haze. The scent of spicy carnations wafted over me and I caught the brief glimpse of a dark grove, where our bodies lay entwined on the ground beneath a mossy tree thick with leaves. Only we were not ourselves—but two others—and yet,
they were us
.

And then, we were back in my bedroom and he was driving harder as the intensity heightened. I tried to remember what he was, who he was, but all I could think of was—
he was the right one
. He was the one I was meant to be with, we were bound. I had no idea how or why, but here we were.

He lowered his lips to my neck and sliced the skin. Our bodies entwined as he lapped at my blood and a brilliant indigo mist began to swirl around us. He sucked harder and I whimpered as he tasted my most hidden secret self, my very essence. After a moment, he moaned, then pulled his face away. I was afraid to look at him, suddenly flashing back to Lannan’s bloodstained mouth and chin after he’d fucked the girl.

But Grieve’s face was clean, with just a single drop of blood on the corner of his lip, and the look in his eyes was one of life and desire and exquisite joy, and I forgot myself as he began to pump harder. My wolf growled, brazen and feral, and I slid into Grieve’s flame. All thought dropped away as the spark became a blaze, and the blaze crowned into a raging fire and there was nothing left but Grieve and me, and our passion.

After, long after, I was lying in his arms, dozing. He tapped me on the shoulder and kissed my forehead.

“What is it?” I gazed up at him, realizing that while, yes, I was enthralled because of the venom in his teeth, there was also some energy far deeper beneath the surface working between us.

“I have to go. I don’t want
them
to ask where I’ve been.” And by
them
, I knew he meant the Indigo Court.

“Good idea.” Sliding out from between the sheets, I slipped on my bathrobe. “Do you . . . I . . . I’m not sure what to say.” Should I ask him when he’d be back? Keep it casual? Everything inside me screamed this
couldn’t
be casual and that if he wanted it that way, I was already a goner.

He pressed his finger to my lips. “Hush for now. We are meant to be, Cicely. Let it go at that for now. There are many problems to work through, considering who holds my chains, but we will find a way. I promise you that. You are mine. Never forget that.”

And considering who now holds my chains, there are more problems than you think.
I thought it, but kept my mouth shut, foreseeing so many land mines ahead of us.

He leaned down and kissed me again. “One other thing. I will tell you something even though it puts me in danger.”

“What is it?”

“Heather’s alive. And so is your friend Peyton.”

I stared at him and his glamour fell away, leaving him looking vulnerable and weary. Could he be telling the truth? Was he toying with me? Hesitating, I touched my hand to my throat. “Alive? You’re sure? Where are they?”

“I’m certain, yes. I don’t dare try to help you rescue them, but I will tell you that they’re deep within the forest, past the ravine, being held captive in the Marburry Barrow. I don’t know how long they’ll remain alive, but right now, they’re there and relatively unharmed.” His eyes narrowed and he leaned toward me. “Myst is holding them captive.”

“Where is the Barrow? How far into the wood?”

“You can’t just walk up to it. You have to find the portal, otherwise it will just look like a large mound of dirt and grass. But if you want to go there, follow the path to the stand of red huckleberries. You’ll see a Faerie ring of toadstools on the left.” He traced a diagram on the bed for me.

“Faerie ring? Aren’t those dangerous?”

“Yes. Step carefully—don’t enter the ring because it’s a snare. Then, continue for about an hour. Turn right after you walk between the Twin Oaks—you can’t miss them, they’re the only oaks in the area—and you’ll find the Marburry Barrow. The oaks are portals, though—and they will thrust you into my world and if there are Indigo Fae around, you’ll die. I guarantee it.”