Seduced by Crimson (11 page)

"Give yourself up to it," Patrick said, the vibration of his words against her sex as erotic as everything else he'd done to her. Her legs clenched. Her breath stuttered. Could she do it? Could she surrender to the inevitable?

He began a steady pushing and withdrawal of his finger. Then he was larger. Two fingers? Whatever. It didn't matter. The stretching sensation was just what she wanted. Then she felt his lips again—his tongue all around that grinning, happy spot. And then… his full mouth.

God, the man had timing. No normal man had timing like this! He pushed his fingers inside her at the same moment he sucked on that happy spot. And then the steady thrust and withdrawal was accompanied by that tongue. A circle. A push. Her shiver of delight.

There was no fighting this. Her happy spot expanded until it encompassed her whole body, even her brain. She was pushing down, straining toward him.
Again. Oh, please. Again. Oh, yes
…

She surrendered and shattered. An orgasm ripped through her; her body clenched and unclenched, rolled, writhed, and quivered. Every muscle, bone, and pore gave off a huge, happy grin. And what was more, Patrick kept going. God bless a man with timing. He stroked, he caressed, he licked—he did everything right so that the rolling waves kept crashing, kept tossing her about on the sea of ecstasy, kept at her until…

He stopped. Bit by bit, the waves quieted. Xiao Fei's breath returned, and her entire body melted into the limpid pool named afterglow. Never again would she doubt how very beautiful, how serene, how yummy this place could be.

Until she heard his huff of disgust.

She cracked an eye. It took way too much effort, but there he was, looking rumpled and put out. He was frowning at her as if she'd done something wrong. Then he rubbed a hand across his face and into his hair, clearly upset.

"Patrick?" she said.

He pulled his hand from his head and let it drop. She felt it brush across her ankle right above her bonds, but his face was what held her attention. It was disoriented, tragic, little-boy-lost. She frowned and raised her head. Or at least she tried. Really she could manage it for only about a half second before dropping back, exhausted.

"Talk to me, Patrick. What's going on?"

He shrugged, an apology in his eyes. "It didn't work," he said simply.

She blinked. She'd had the best damn orgasm of her entire life, and he had the nerve to say it hadn't worked? It sure as hell had. It—

His expression abruptly shifted. "No, no.
That
worked. That worked really well." He peered at her. "At least, it seemed to."

Honesty forced her to nod.

He sighed. "But closing the gate…" He shook his head.

She rolled her eyes. "I told you
that
wouldn't work."

"But it can," he countered, a plaintive note entering his voice. "When we kissed, back on the street—I felt it, Xiao Fei. I felt the… the whole Earth. It worked then. Why wouldn't it work now?"

She thought back. Yes, that kiss on the street… that had been awesome. And yes, she'd felt something then, too—something big and much larger than herself. At the time, she'd thought it was just a really good kiss, but could it have been more? A connection of sorts to…

"This is lunacy," she snapped, irritated because she was beginning to believe him.

Suddenly, he snapped his fingers—a loud ripple in the silent room. "No blood," he said.

She raised her head. "What?"

He gestured to the knife that he'd left on the bedside table. "I forgot to cut you. Maybe—"

"There's blood, Patrick. Look at my ankles. There's blood."

He looked down and immediately started cursing. The ropes had indeed chafed her skin. She was bleeding from several points and, given her hemophilia, there was no stopping the flow. Well, he couldn't stop it.

He leaped up from the bed and tripped in his haste to get the knife. Then he scrambled back and immediately began sawing at rope to free her. He looked horrified.

"Slowly, Patrick. You don't want to slice my tendons as you rescue me."

"Why didn't you say something? Why didn't you tell me what was happening?" he hissed.

"Would it have made a difference?"

"Hell, yes!" he snapped. Her right leg was free. Hallelujah. "I just want to close the demon gate. I don't want to—"

"Rape me?" she couldn't help saying.

He froze, her bonds half undone. The look he gave her held desperation, horror, and even self-loathing. He was a good man. She could see that in his eyes, but even good men committed atrocities given the right motivations. He swallowed. "No." He looked down at the knife in his hands, the blood staining the bedspread, and her swollen, battered legs. "God, no. Not now."

"Because it didn't work?" Her voice was a whisper. She wasn't even sure how she felt about this anymore. It would have been nice, wouldn't it—if a quick roll in the hay and
wham, bam
, the evil-spewing hole in the world shuts? That'd be great.

Except…

"It didn't work." He sounded as if his dog had just died. Or his parents. Or twenty-nine Phoenix Tears, plus nearly fifty monks in Cambodia.

Xiao Fei closed her eyes with a moan. "Untie my hands, Patrick."

She heard him shift to free her hands. She wasn't bleeding there, so it took a little longer; the rope wasn't wet, so the knife didn't slide so easily.

"We have to get you to a hospital."

Her eyes popped open and she saw him staring at her. "Why?"

He glanced at her ankles. "You're bleeding."

"Yeah. So?"

"So, we need to stop it. Geez, it's soaking through the bedspread. It looks like you cut an artery or something."

"Finish untying my hands, Patrick," she said.

He blinked, then abruptly nodded. Clearly, he wasn't used to seeing blood. Or at least this much blood. It was a reassuring thought, actually. Nice to know the guy didn't make a habit of abducting and bleeding all his dates.

Her left hand released, she busied herself flexing feeling back into her extremities while he went to work on her last restraint. He finished in short order, and she swung around, feet on the floor, hands in her lap. He was already bringing over her clothes, all neatly folded.

"Put these on; then I'll take you to a hospital," he said.

He looked depressingly contrite. She almost missed the forceful obsession of Draig-Uisge. Well, not really.

"Actually," she said as she stood, "I think I'll take a shower instead."

"You can't!" he cried. "You'll bleed!"

She grinned. He really did sound panicked. Good. He deserved it for what he'd just put her through. But then she relented. After all, she really had enjoyed what he'd done in a sick sort of way. She'd never thought he would really hurt her, and he had made good. It had been awesome, in fact. And she was technically still a virgin.

She peered at him. "Forcing someone is wrong. You know that, right?"

He stared at her, his cheek turning red.

"Answer the question, Patrick!"

He reared back and there was a flash of anger in his eyes. But it was quickly suffocated. "Of course I know it's wrong." He shook his head. "But I had to do that. I still don't understand… I know you're the one."

"Yeah, yeah, well, maybe
you're
not," she snapped. "Ever think of that?"

His shoulders visibly tightened. "Of course I thought of that. But if I'm not the one, we're royally screwed. I'm the best we've got."

Xiao Fei rolled her eyes. "We're royally screwed either way. I keep trying to tell you that. The demon gate's open, and great sex is not going to change that."

He sighed. "But it was working back on the street. That kiss. That's when I became absolutely sure."

She shrugged. She'd been too busy fighting the vamps to know.

He shook his head and groaned. "Well, let's get you to the hospital."

"No need." She pointed down to her ankles. They were covered in blood, so it was hard for him to see. In the end, she grabbed his hand and walked him to the bathroom.

Odd, that she wasn't in the least bit self-conscious about being naked with him. Not anymore. They maneuvered awkwardly in the small bathroom, but there was still plenty of space for her to sit on the edge of the tub. She pulled on the faucet, knowing that cold water was best. Then she closed her eyes for a moment and did her little prayer chant. It was the one for the closing of wounds.

The words were reassuring, the motions familiar, but focus was hard to find. Her emotions were too unsettled for it to be easy. But in time, she found her center, and just like that, her skin sealed and her heart found a way to forgive. She plunged her feet into the chill water.

"Oh, God," Patrick breathed beside her.

Xiao Fei's eyes opened. Wow. That really looked bad. The blood was swirling around and around in the tub. If this were Cambodia, a monk would be busily bottling the stuff as a cure-all for everything from warts to a toothache. But they were in the United States, and those monks from her childhood were dead. With a quick flick of her wrist, she stopped the faucet and raised her feet.

"Hand me a towel," she said.

Patrick complied in silence. It was a bright white towel, soft and soothing to the skin. Xiao Fei mourned the pink stains she was about to leave on the pristine fabric, but there was no help for it; she carefully dried her legs on the towel, then let the cloth fall open so he could see clearly. Her ankles were raw, but not bleeding anymore.

"I heal quickly when I concentrate."

"When you pray," he clarified.

Xiao Fei shrugged. Prayer, magic, focused thought—to her, they were the same thing. "I don't worship any deity, Patrick. Not like a Christian."

"What about Buddha?"

"He was a man. A very smart and holy man who showed us a way to think and live. I don't deify him, and I don't need him to close my wounds."

"You just… chant them closed?" he asked.

She nodded. "Or open."

It took a moment for him to catch her meaning. But when he finally got it, he pulled back and dropped heavily onto a nearby stool. "You faked this."

She shook her head. "The blood was real, Patrick—the wound and pain were all real. But no, they weren't from the rope." She shrugged. "Well, they were, but not because you tied me too tight. I purposely made myself bleed."

"So I would stop."

She nodded.

"But I didn't notice!" he said.

She smiled ruefully. "Well, you were rather occupied at the time."

He dropped his head into his hands and released a long moan. No words, just raw despair. Moved, she touched his shoulder. When he didn't respond, she leaned down, brushed his hair aside, and pressed a kiss to his bare neck.

"I forgive you," she said.

Then the building exploded.

From letters tucked into the journal of Patrick Lewis.

July 4, 1986

Dear loser,

This sucks. You're away at surfer camp and I'm stuck here scooping ice cream for rich snots who laugh at my hat. Like I picked the stupid thing. When I'm the new Draig, I'm going to cast a spell on all of them so they get bad hair. With bugs! And I'll make them all smell like fish fries.

At least your mom lets me come over and play Atari. Still, it's not the same without you. Dick-head. When are you getting home? I can't even call you because my dad didn't pay the phone bill again. You'd never guess he had so much power. You'd think a man who could wield the you-know-what could manage to pay the phone bill. Or at least make the company forget we owe anything. Yet another reason my dad is a schmuck.

Okay, well I'm writing for a special reason. It's not like I'd talk to you otherwise. I want to borrow your books. You know which ones. Your father gave them to you instead of a new board. I know where the key is, so I was just going to take them. It's not like you give two farts what happens to them, but Dad insists I ask.

"Tilings of power should be respected," quoth my dickhead Dad.

So… can I? You gotta write back, because of the phone. Do it soon so I can stop reading under the covers. Yeah, I already took them.

Jason the Amazing

July 7, 1986

Hey, Jason
—

Sucks about your phone. Your dad really doesn't remember to pay the bill? Next time just work it out with my mom and call from my room. They think of you as their son, anyway.

Yeah, take the books
—
on one condition. I get them back with crib notes. Dad's all over me to read them, so this way we both get what we want
.

Are you really close to doing spells ? Can you feel the energy and stuff?

It's weird. Dad thinks that surfing is taking me away from important stuff, but surfing's the only time I can feel the Earth's energy
—
when I'm in the water or on the board. And it has to be real ocean water, not some lame pool, you know? That's just dead water in too small a space. But surfing I can hit a rhythm that's peaceful. I thought everyone did, but only some of the really good surfers
—
the older ones
—
know what I'm talking about. And maybe even they're just bullshitting me. But I feel it, and it's great
.