Seduced by Crimson (21 page)

Heat. Wet heat caressed Xiao Fei's skin, and she tried to move away. This was too intimate, too close to who she was. But Patrick wouldn't let her escape. He held her fast and sucked on her wrist, his tongue swirling around and across her skin. His teeth nipped slightly at the wound, and she shivered in reaction.

Then he drew her inside him. She was so attuned to his essence that she imagined her blood sliding into his system; she felt the energy leave her and slip drop by drop into him. She closed her eyes. She thought of him and his dark green irises. She saw pristine blue water, soaring waves, and all the life that surged in the ocean. And she saw herself playing on his shores, swimming in his depths, immersing herself in all that was him.

It was a silly fantasy, and yet she couldn't deny the rightness of the image. When they touched—when they kissed—she felt the echo of all of Earth in him.

"Are all druids so…" She had no word for what she meant to describe. Persistent? All-embracing? "Large?"

She felt his lips purse in a kiss of her wrist. His tongue swirled one last time; then he pulled away. "Have I drunk enough blood?"

"Not for a vampire."

His eyes flashed with surprise, then humor. "Am I suspected of that, too?"

She shook her head. "How do you feel?"

She saw him hesitate a moment; then he bent to the ropes at her feet. "I won't lie to you. Your blood burns a bit." He flashed her a quick grin. "Kinda like a fine, dark brandy."

"Intoxicating?" She meant it as a joke. She drawled the word and smiled as she spoke, but his eyes grew serious. His pupils expanded and the tight lines of his face softened.

"Yes, I think it is. I feel drunk. I've never told anyone as much as I've told you."

She almost laughed, but he was too serious for her to mock. "You haven't told me anything substantial."

"You know I am Draig-Uisge. That I am not a demon, but that I wield their tool."

She sobered immediately, her eyes drifting to his satchel and the amulet nearby.

"That burns, too," Patrick said softly. "Every time I touch it." He sighed. "It is the reminder that with power comes pain and responsibility."

She bit her lip. "The amulet is evil. If you have it, if you use it—"

"Then I must be evil too?"

She nodded, knowing her logic was sound. But he didn't feel evil, and more important, he wasn't acting evil.

He sat back on his heels and looked directly at her.

"It's a tool, Xiao Fei. Like a knife or a gun, it can be used for good or ill."

"It was made by demons. It's energy is demonic." She swallowed and came to the real point. "It corrupts. Even if you are good now, you won't be for long."

He looked at her and she saw a soul-deep sadness in his eyes. "Give me a chance to prove that's not true. I've held the amulet for over a decade now. My purpose is still strong."

"Your purpose?" she challenged.

"I defend Earth. That's what a Draig does. He defends Earth from evil."

She folded her arms across her chest. "You tied me to a bed. And you cast a spell on me in the storeroom."

He sighed. "It was a charm spell, and I cast it when we first met."

"And that makes it different, how? Manipulation. Force. These are the tools of evil men and horrific demons."

A shadow crossed his face. She couldn't identify its meaning—remorse, frustration, maybe anger. But then it passed, and his expression cleared. "Remember back in the hotel room? I told you I'd lost my parents to the cause."

She remembered. He'd said something else too, something that she'd blocked from her thoughts.

"I also said you were the love of my life."

She winced. "Don't lie to me, Patrick. I'll know you're evil then, and I'll kill you." She didn't know where such murderous fury came from, but it beat in her words and in her blood.

"I'm not lying. I think you might be." He grimaced and looked so totally unhappy that her anger began to fade. If he tried to touch her—seduce her—then she would know it was an act. But his body was bunched tight with frustration, and his expression remained fierce. "It's not the charm," he said. "That just makes people interested sexually."

"Horny."

He shrugged. "Yes. But what I feel is stronger. It's much more than lust." He looked into her eyes. "My
soul
aches for you. I can't say why, but you are so completely important to me that I can't begin to describe it. When I touch you, it's like…"

"The whole earth is there with us." The words were out before she could stop them.

"Yes! You're you, and you're the Earth as well. Nothing like that has ever happened before, Xiao Fei. I need you. I love you!" He cut off his words, obviously struggling with what he'd said. "Well… is that love, Xiao Fei? Are you the love of my life?"

He was asking her? She'd spent her life running from anything resembling emotion—good, bad, or otherwise. She'd lived in fear and looked for safety. She had just started to hope for a better life, and then the demons invaded. Now he said he loved her? It was ludicrous! Except, she believed him.

She groaned. "Everything is moving so fast. I can't keep up."

"Tell me about it," he groused. When she didn't comment more, he sighed and bent over to untie the rope around her legs.

She lifted her hand to touch him, but it was covered in blood. Her wrist was still bleeding. She would need to close the wound soon, but she couldn't stop watching Patrick. His hair was that indeterminate blond that was part brunette, part white-blond, part everything else. His shoulders were broad, his hands strong and capable, and he had the oddest habit of ducking his head slightly when he was being funny. His skin was tan without looking leathery. If he had freckles, they were long since lost in the lines that came from long hours of squinting into the sun or laughing with a wide open spirit.

Unable to stop herself, Xiao Fei reached forward and touched his head. Was his hair thinning, or had it always been this delicate? He lifted his face. Was his mouth just now becoming sensual and seductive, or had he always been a lure for girls?

"Tell me how you came to use the amulet," she said.

His reaction wasn't obvious. In fact, he covered it well, but she was watching him closely. His jaw tightened slightly, pulling at the bleeding cut there, and his eyes misted with pain.

"Not now," he murmured. "Can you heal your arm? Or do we go to a doctor?"

"Both." At his surprised look, she gestured to his chin. "Your jaw."

He frowned, then put his hand to his face. She watched his long fingers gingerly explore the slash on his cheek. "Oh, yeah," he said on a half laugh. "I'd forgotten in the overall agony."

She stood and walked over to him, looking closely. Unlike her, his blood clotted easily. The wound looked ugly, but not mortal. "How much does my blood burn?" she asked.

He smiled, though she could tell the movement pained him somewhat. "Like a fine brandy."

She snorted and gently pushed him back into his chair. She had been watching him closely, waiting for the effects, which she saw now. The discoloration around his temple was moving from black to green. His swollen lip was slimming. "My blood is healing you."

His eyes widened. "Really? That little bit?"

"I'm tiny but strong," she quipped. Then she used her hands to tilt his head back and more fully expose his jaw. "Only a plastic surgeon could make this look good again."

Patrick shrugged and muttered, "Jason always said I was too pretty."

She raised an eyebrow in query.

His eyes cooled, and he shrugged. "An old friend. He died a few years ago."

There was more of a story there, but he obviously wasn't willing to share it, so Xiao Fei focused on her task instead. She raised her wrist and angled it just right. Then she began to chant. She didn't know exactly what about this process made her blood more effective, how one chant could substantially increase a healing effect, how another thickened and closed her skin, she only knew that it worked. So she dripped blood onto his face, and when enough had coated his skin, she pushed the jagged edges of his wound together.

After two more minutes, his skin held together. She switched chants, and her own flesh knitted. "There will be a scar," she warned.

He nodded as he gently touched his face. "Does it always work so fast?"

She stepped backward. "No. Rarely. Some people just seem to… Your energies and mine seem to…"

"Our energies align, right? That's what you're trying to say. You and I work well together."

She swallowed, unwilling to admit anything of the kind, even if it was true. "I don't fully trust you," she said. "You still carry a demon amulet." But her blood had healed him, and that would never happen if he were a demon.

He smiled. "I don't trust you either. Not after siccing those werewolves on me."

She couldn't fault him for that. So she leaned against the arm of the couch and sighed. "Please. Tell me how you came to carry the amulet."

He shrugged, and his gaze became unfocused. "The previous Draig misused it. He was a Draig-Teine, a fire dragon. I…" His eyes returned to hers. "I fought him for it and won. There was blood—his and mine. And the damn thing burns, Xiao Fei. It really hurts to hold, but I had to. He was…" He shook his head. "The Draig-Teine was working on opening the gate to Orcus. He had to be stopped, so I did it."

She doubted it was anything so simple. "You killed him?"

"Yes. There was no other choice." Patrick pushed up to stand over her, his shoulders slightly hunched, then spun away. "After that it was obvious I was the next draig. Only, I'm a Draig-Uisge. A—"

"A water dragon."

He frowned as he turned back to her. "I didn't tell you that, did I?"

She shook her head. "But I know. I saw it. Back when…"

"Back in the storage room. When we kissed."

"Yeah." It was her turn to look away. She didn't really like that she synced with him so well. On the other hand, in some ways it was wonderful. It
felt
wonderful. She made an effort to redirect her thoughts to the task at hand. "So, what do we do now?"

Patrick's gaze steadied, holding hers with a strength that weakened her knees. She knew what he was going to say before the words left his mouth. "We have to try again. We have to close the gate."

"It won't work."

His lips compressed, as if he were disappointed by her response. "It will work. Denying it won't change the facts."

She scratched lightly at one tattooed scar—the tear she had opened to cure Stan the vampire. Was that only yesterday? The hours had blurred. She didn't know how much time had passed, and in these werewolf tunnels, she couldn't even tell if it was day or night.

"I'm so tired," she murmured. "And I stink." Silly how attached she'd become to American showers. In Cambodia, she'd sometimes gone weeks without bathing. But now…

"There's a shower here. Why don't we use that?"

She narrowed her gaze on his too-innocent face. "
We
?"

He grinned. "Water is precious. They say you should always shower with a friend."

She shook her head, knowing what he intended. "I'm too tired to try that again."

"No, you're not." He pulled her bag of dried persimmon out of his satchel. "This will perk you right up."

It would. And it would stoke the fire in her blood, her ability to bleed, and her sense of… everything. Her awareness of energy was part of her blood's ability, and the fruit accentuated it. Which meant she would also be hyperaware of Patrick.

"You need it," he said as he brought the bag over. "You've been bleeding all over the place."

"Messy me," she joked.

He reached out with his free hand to touch her face, but she avoided him. She ducked away, but as she moved, she grabbed the bag. He was right. She had been extending herself in the last day or so. She'd known she would have to eat some persimmon after healing the vampires.

"Why are you so reluctant to take care of yourself?" he asked.

She flinched slightly at his perception. "I do take care of myself," she said.

"Sparingly. You push yourself to the edge."

"Conservation. I've barely got enough of this stuff to last until harvest."

He stepped closer to her, looked her in the eye. "There's more to it than that. I think you're punishing yourself for surviving when your sisters died. Back in Cambodia, when—"

"I know when and where they died!" she snapped, then immediately regretted it. What better way to tell him he'd struck home than to lash out at him?

"It's disconcerting, isn't it? I feel you, Xiao Fei. Your feelings. Your—"

"Thoughts?" The idea was horrifying.

He shook his head. "No. Not what you think, what you
are
." He lifted his hands in a gesture of confusion. "I don't even understand what I'm saying, but I know it's true. I know it's getting stronger too, the longer we're together—our bond."