Omega (21 page)

Will handed her the papers. “I found Rory’s obituary first, but then came across a Facebook page Rob set up as Rory went
through treatments. He went fast, like five or six weeks after he was diagnosed. I printed out as much as I could find.”

Randa’s hands shook as she unfolded the sheets. The obituary was on top, and her eyes zeroed in on the last sentence:
He was preceded in death by his mother, Alicia, and his beloved sister, Randalynn.
Her voice was little more than a whisper. “What kind of cancer?”

“It’s on Rob’s sheet—some kind of aggressive thing I can’t sound out.”

Randa stared at the photo of her brother. They hadn’t been anything near identical twins, but definitely shared their coloring and facial structure. “Our mom died of leukemia really young. I don’t even remember her.” Her expression turned fierce. “Will, if I’d known, if I had tried to turn him vampire, would it have wiped out the cancer? Could I have saved him?”

“I’m not…” Will stopped and considered the question. “I’ve never thought about it, but maybe. I don’t know. His illness might have made it impossible for him to get through his transition.”

“If we could actually help somebody, it would make this”—she pointed at herself, then at him—“mean something.”

A hard look crossed his face that she couldn’t interpret. But he slid closer to her and took her restless hands in his, long fingers stroking along her knuckles. “Ran, we’ll find out the answer to that question—Cage might be able to tell us if turning someone could cure an illness, and maybe we can find a way to do that once all this shit with the Tribunal is over and it isn’t illegal to turn willing people again. But no matter what that answer is, you can’t bring your brother back.”

Her eyes closed, and a knife’s edge of pain shot through her chest. “I know.” Thinking she might have saved him if she’d
known would get her nowhere, but those what-ifs kept scrolling through her mind.

“But here’s the thing.” He stroked a hand down her cheek and turned her face toward his. “The thing you can do for Rory is to live the second life you were given.”

How could she, when she couldn’t see anything ahead but years of fighting? She grew up a soldier, trying to prove herself, but she hadn’t thought about having to do it forever. Literally forever, fighting for respect, fighting for food, fighting for survival.

But if she had a goal…

“Would you help me?” She shifted on the bed to look at Will, hope rising like a baby phoenix. “You know how Aidan’s done with the drug rehab in Atlanta? We could do something like that with cancer patients.”

As soon as she said the words, the reasons why it wouldn’t work popped up without Will having to say anything. Helping addicts shake their cravings for drugs or alcohol was far different than intentionally making new vampires to help people survive diseases.

Once a new generation of humans grew up, the ones born after the pandemic vaccine, most vampires believed the feeding shortages would be over. But those were hopeful guesses, not a sure thing. It was a belief full of ifs: if the blood-chemistry change wrought by the vaccine wasn’t passed on to babies, for example, and if the whole vampire world didn’t implode from starvation and civil war by then.

Will nodded slowly. “I think it’s a great idea, but not yet. Once we get through this pandemic stuff, I will help you. We’ll see how we can make it work. I promise.”

Randa closed her eyes and nodded. “I know—that idea has a lot of holes in it.”

“You can make your vampire life worthwhile without trying to save the world.”

Her laugh was as bitter as her heart felt. “How?”

God, she hated sounding so lost in front of Will. How had the jester of the vampire world suddenly become her confidant, the closest thing she’d had to a friend since she’d been turned? Even before then. She’d always kept people at a distance, but the cave-in had forced them to open up, and she found she didn’t want to go back to where they’d been.

Will squeezed her hands. “First, accept this scathe as your family. It doesn’t mean they’re better than your human family, or even replacing your human family. But even as humans, families get redefined all the time. You marry someone and take on new members. People move in and out of each other’s lives, and we take them in and then let them go when it’s time.”

Randa looked down at the folded sheets of paper, then reached over to place them on the bookshelf. How had she ever thought Will was shallow and unfeeling? “I’m not sure I’m ready to let them go. But I understand what you’re saying. It’s why I’ve stayed in Penton, why I’ve tried so hard to prove myself so Aidan would let me stay.”

Will pulled her into a hug. “You don’t have to prove anything.”

The arms she reached around him were tentative at first, then tightened. “Make me forget, Will, just for a while. Love me.” Had she just said that? She knew he didn’t
love
her. Not love with a capital
L
. Neither of them was ready for that.

She just wanted to forget, to stop thinking.

Randa had spent a lot of time in the past few days imagining what her first time with Will—their real first time together—would be like. In her mind, sex with him was always playful,
aggressive, teasing, high octane. This fragile need scared her, and probably scared him. She wouldn’t blame him if he went running back across the hall to his room with Cage.

Cupping the back of her neck, he gently pulled her to him. He smelled of the night air, clean skin, a trace of pine.

He dug his fingers into her hair and met her frantic, open-mouthed kisses with a slow, steady pressure. He was holding back, and she didn’t want him to.

When the tip of her tongue touched his, tentative and searching, he took that as an invitation, sucking her in as if he could inhale her.

“Oh.” She pulled back, wide-eyed, her gaze settling on his lip, where a drop of blood oozed and spread. “I cut you. I’ve never…I mean, you’re my first…”
Damned fangs
.

He stilled, looking equal parts alarmed and confused. “You’re a virgin?”

She smiled, then laughed, the stress of the last week—the last hour—escaping in giggles. People could probably hear her all the way down in the common room. “I’m not a virgin, Will. You can get that deer-in-headlights look off your face.”

But she was, sort of. “I haven’t…you know…since I’ve been turned, and I’m afraid I’m going to slice you to ribbons.” She ran a fingertip across his lower lip and lifted her blood-covered index finger to her mouth, tasting his sweet essence. “Too bad we can’t remove these things except when we feed.”

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her against him. “Taste me.”

Randa twined her fingers through his hair, pushed it away from his face, and kissed him again, scooting closer until her knees hit his thighs. He slid his hands underneath her and pulled her onto his lap, turning her so she sat astride him. She
felt how much he wanted her, and rocked against him slowly. He pulled her tightly against his chest, lifting his thighs to position her on him. “Move against me,” he whispered. “Show me what you like.”

His need hit her like a jolt of electricity as she opened her knees wider, slid forward, and ground against him until she thought she’d explode.

He groaned into her neck. “Ran, you’re killing me.”

“Good.”

She let him roll her over, cursing at the tight fit. “Damned twin beds,” he muttered. “Whoever ordered these things should be shot.”

She laughed. “I thought
you
ordered them for all the rooms that weren’t assigned to couples.”

“I did, so if I fall on the floor, it’ll be my own damned fault.” He stood up, grabbed the hem of his sweater, and tore it off, the heat in his eyes turning them a molten gold. Most vampire eyes turned silvery, but not Will’s. One of the fun things about arguing with him and getting him agitated was watching his eyes turn this beautiful shade of amber.

Turns out it didn’t take an argument.

She stood up and began unbuttoning her shirt.

“I think that’s something I’d like to do.” He took over the task, easing each button slowly through the buttonhole, spreading the fabric away from her skin, trailing the whole process with his mouth.

“Yes.” She half whimpered, half groaned as he eased the straps of her bra down and then ripped it off. Some primal need invaded her heart, wanted him inside her even as he sucked and licked his way down her body. Was this just vampire stuff, or was it this ridiculous chemistry?

“You OK?” They stood chest to chest, breathing ragged. His eyes were slightly unfocused as he tugged the front of her jeans, popping the button.

She helped him push them down, and while he shucked his own jeans, she shimmied hers off and kicked them aside, smiling as the grin spread across his face.

“Sweet.” He hooked his fingers in the band of the red bikini panties—the only “sexy” pair she owned.

“If you tear those, I’ll have to bring you up for court-martial.”

He ran a thumb over her lips and dropped his mouth over hers in a hungry kiss. The force of it stole her breath and wiped out all feeling except for the throbbing that had set up deep inside her as he pulled her hips against his and lowered her back onto the little bed. He ran hot fingers between her thighs, spreading her open, cradling his body against hers, his erection a sweet pressure against her.

Her mouth opened, gasping for air, as he cupped her breasts, dragged his nails across their tips, and following them with teeth and tongue. Each nip sent waves of pleasure down her spine. Her hands tangled in his thick hair, pulling and clutching until he groaned and returned for a demanding kiss.

“Still going to have me court-martialed?” He waited until she looked him in the eye, then slowly lowered his mouth back to her breast, bared his fangs, and bit, sucking her blood and her tender skin into his mouth at the same time.

“That’s not…omigod…fair.” She arched against him and lost track of time for a few seconds, or minutes. Who knew? When she finally quit trembling and opened her eyes, he was propped on his elbows, watching her.

He gave her the cocky Will Ludlam smile, the one she used to find annoying. All of a sudden, it was amazingly sexy. “Did you like that, maybe just a little? That look on your face said you did.”

“You are evil.”

“I’m not evil. I’m in pain. I’m feeling neglected.” He pointed downward. His erection was straining the front of his boxer briefs in a serious way.

“Yeah, you are kind of overdressed and standing at attention. Guess we better take care of that.”

He rolled onto his back, and she eased the briefs off him. He was long, thick, heavy with need. He gripped himself and stroked, her eyes following the motion. “Taste me.”

She dragged long, hard licks along his length, tracing the veins with her tongue, pressing his thighs down with her elbows so she controlled his movement.

“No, wait, wait, wait. God.” He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her up his body, then rolled her over, cracking his elbow against the wall, leaving a small indentation in the Sheetrock. “Fuck.”

They both laughed until their gazes locked and the heat rose again, hard and fast. He lowered himself onto her, gasping as he brushed against her wet heat. She reached between them and grasped him, guiding him in.

He pushed forward, sinking into her body inch by inch in a slow rhythm. His cheeks were flushed, his body hot and trembling with the effort to remain still, moving slowly. He was going to drive her insane.

“Move it, soldier.”

He kissed her and smiled, his forehead an inch from hers, moving in short thrusts. “Half march?”

“Double time.”

She didn’t have to order him twice. He drove in with deep, dragging strokes, his arms curled under her shoulders.

The world reduced to a single hot ball of nerves set afire by friction and fanned by desire, and as Randa went over, giving in to the tingling pressure, she felt him come with her, pulsing inside her and clenching his thighs as he threw his head back with a feral groan.

Only afterward, when she lay with her cheek resting on his chest, his fingers tracing circles on her back, did Randa think again of Rory. She should feel ashamed of that, but somehow she thought her brother would approve.

M
atthias paced the office of the Penton clinic, avoiding the back corner where the ceiling was cracked and on the verge of collapse after that damned Cage Reynolds had duped him and dragged Melissa Calvert out of Penton.

It wasn’t the loss of the woman that bothered him so much—she’d proven annoyingly strong-minded for a new vampire and had told him very little after accidentally spilling the location to the Penton scathe’s underground hiding-place entrance. He’d come to the conclusion she honestly didn’t know where the other exits were and had decided to kill her. He didn’t need another pair of fangs to feed. And she hadn’t seen enough of Matthias’s operation to tell Aidan Murphy anything helpful.

Nor had Cage Reynolds, but what really pissed Matthias off was the duplicity of Edward Simmons, the UK Tribunal chief. Matthias had called him in a fury after Cage escaped, and had to listen while that maddeningly calm voice expressed shock that his trusted lieutenant “would behave so egregiously. So sorry, old chap.”