Sex and the Single Vamp (14 page)

“He knew? He knew he would have to
–
”

“He knew.” Andy’s voice was gentle, thick and wet with his own emotion, tears now spilling over his cheeks just like the ones on her face. “He knew this was the price of the cure. To save you, he had to die.”

“No.” She shook her head, eyes clenched shut.
It is not real. It is not real
. “No.”

She felt Andy’s arms come around her, his head resting against hers as he shook with his own sobs. His big hands rubbed up and down her back as he rocked her back and forth, trying to comfort her.

“Why?” she asked. “Why would he do this?”

“Because he loved you more than his own life,” Andy said

He had told her almost the same thing when he demanded that she drink.

Deacon had told her that he couldn’t live in a world where she didn’t exist. He’d known what would happen when he’d begged her to take his life.

Stupid, selfless man.

He’d never asked her if she wanted to live in a world without him, because she didn’t. The idea of passing year after year, decade after decade without knowing he was somewhere out there was unbearable. She gave in to the weight and collapsed in Andy’s arms. Tears spilled out like a torrent, wrenched from inside her as though her very heart was being brutally removed piece by piece.

She was consumed by her grief, dimly aware another man had entered the room. One of Deacon’s men. Andy quietly told him Deacon was dead, the suspect as well, and directed for him to care for Mya. All the while she hid her face against his chest, unable to do anything but cave under her sorrow.

“Cici?” The hand on her back, the soft voice in her ear, was familiar.

Cici withdrew from Andy’s grasp and gazed up at her friend. Mya’s expression was haggard, residual pain etched into the lovely lines of her face, the blond hair mussed and tangled. She reached out to her, clinging to Mya’s hands with her own.

“Cici? What happened?” Mya asked.

“Mya. David—” Her eyes flew to where his body lay on the floor, remembering what her friend had lost tonight as well. “I’m so sorry.”

Mya gave a violent shake of her head, her fingers squeezing Cici’s almost to the point of pain. “No. We will not talk about him tonight. I can’t.”

Mya’s bravery made her even more beautiful. Her fingers squeezed again to punctuate her point. “What happened to you? Deacon?”

“He’s dead.” Her voice caught, tears once again leaking out of the corners of her eyes and streaming down her skin. “He told me to drink.” She hiccuped with a painful clench of her chest. “He knew he would die, but he told me to do it anyway.”

“That was the cure?” Mya looked over Deacon’s body, her eyes pooling with tears as well. Cici gasped. She’d never seen her friend cry, never witnessed her loss of control. When Mya looked back at her, the grief imprinted on her was real, raw, complete. “He loved you that much?”

“Yes.”

Mya looked up at the ceiling, a whispered litany of words falling out of her mouth almost like a prayer. It wasn’t in a language Cici knew—it was ancient, more a combination of sounds than actual words, but it rolled through her like a hum. The musical cadence of it was soothing, coaxing.

The melody of the chant vibrated in the palms of her hands, which were still grasped in Mya’s, and the effect was almost instantaneous—she felt lighter, powerful, as if the very light of the sun was centered in her heart. Peace settled on her like a drug, injected into her mind via a telepathic IV. She wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d looked down to find her skin glowing, bursts of light shooting out from her fingers and toes. But she couldn’t look down or away. Mya was changing before her eyes, shifting, her features morphing into something else and back to her current shape in a blur.

Mya let go of her hand. The humming stopped, but Cici was still oozing light, every part of her shimmering.

Mya lowered her head and Cici gasped at the sight. Her eyes were like balls of blue fluorescent light, deep within swirling with the power from an ancient source, the power of a Grand Fey. Her skin was translucent, shimmering with the glow of a million stars.

“Andy,” Mya said, her voice echoing around the room. It was deep, but feminine, strong and gentle. “Secure the door. Let no one else in.”

He was mesmerized by her as well, his face slack with awe, but he hurried to fulfill her request, clumsily slamming and locking the door behind him. “The cops are on their way. Five minutes, tops.”

“Fine, then I will hurry. But I will need you to protect me. I’ll be without defense. Understood?”

Andy nodded, eyes wide.

“Let no one in. I don’t want others to see me like this.”

“Like what?” The words were barely out of her mouth when Cici got her answer.

Mya crawled over to Deacon’s body, kneeling beside him. She took a deep breath and held her hands out to her side, palms up as if in meditation. Once again the ancient language, the melody of power, spilled out of her mouth but this time it filled the room, swirling in the air like a summer storm. And then it happened.

Her clothes fell away. Blond curls gone. Human form a distant memory. She was beautiful. Not quite solid, but also not a mist, Mya’s entire body was now shimmering with the blue fluorescence that had originated in her eyes. Her hair was long, pooled around her and sparkling like a million diamonds. Her face was almost too lovely to look at, but it was her wings that stood out. Spanning six feet across, they were spun out of silver thread, a most intricate lace. Cici doubted their ability to lift her, to transport her anywhere, but she sensed their strength, sat in awe of their inherent power.

Mya laid her hands on Deacon’s chest, her voice rising in volume, and in tandem the power of the incantation increased, the roar akin to a tornado barreling down the prairie. It rose and rose, so loud that Cici had to clap her hands over her ears. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Andy fall to his knees, his face in a grimace of pain, his extra sensitive Were ears unable to withstand this level of noise. The sound was deafening now, growing higher and higher in pitch; Mya glowed. Cici had to turn away, the light too bright for her eyes. She wasn’t sure she could take much more, doubling over to provide more cover to her ears. And then it stopped. The silence was absolute, as if the power had sucked all the sound from the room. Cici’s ears rang, blood pulsing through her veins, the echoing throb deep in her chest. She raised her face, eyes adjusting slowly to the normal light cast by her lamps and overhead fixtures.

They were gone.

Mya and Deacon. Gone. Vanished like smoke.

She locked eyes with Andy across the room. Cici was sure his expression mirrored her own—disbelief, confusion, shock—one big flaming cocktail of “what the fuck” topped off with a flirty umbrella.

They both jumped when a loud knock sounded at the door, followed quickly by a demanding, “Police. Open up.”

Andy reached behind him and unlocked it, stepping aside as Detective Ramirez stormed inside, gun drawn and ready to go. He came to a sudden and jarring stop, his eyes raking over the carnage that had once been her kitchen. He lowered his gun, shoving it into his holster, his eyes snapping to hers.

“What the fuck happened in here?”

She couldn’t have said it better herself.

Chapter Nineteen

He couldn’t stay here.

Deacon stood on the large balcony just off the living area of his apartment, fourteen floors above the teeming nighttime streets of DC. The air was heavy with a coming storm. The forecasters were projecting a big one, and Deacon hoped there would be lightning. An electrical storm was always so beautiful on his terrace, where it felt as if you were part of it. He scanned the horizon, glad to see the storm clouds rolling in from Virginia. He loved this view, the quiet, the peace. He’d created this haven for himself, but now it felt more like a museum haunted by ghosts.

Ghosts of Cici.

She was everywhere. Her scent on his clothes, his sheets, in the very air of this place. Memories of her popped up all the time. He couldn’t even get away from her in his sleep. Forced from his bed he’d walked the streets last night, wandering until he found himself at Sanctuary and Antonio waiting outside for him. When he’d raised an eyebrow at the coincidence, Antonio had shrugged and said one word, “Andy,” before leading him inside and helping him get smashed.

Andy—his vigilant protector the week since his resurrection—was there to drive him home in the wee hours, throwing him into the bed with a muttered “get your shit together” before he left.

It wasn’t going to get any easier on him or his friends. So he’d decided to leave.

He had a castle. With a moat. Perfect.

The sliding glass door behind him opened with a hiss and he didn’t even turn around. “Marguerite. Book the first flight for me to Heathrow, arrange for a car. And I’ll need you to pack for me. I’ll be gone for…” He hesitated, wondering how long was long enough. “…for a while.”

“Going somewhere?”

The voice didn’t belong to Marguerite. He’d know that smoky alto anywhere. He heard it in his dreams. He turned. Cici was very close, close enough for him to feel the wintry essence pouring off her new vampire body and the wisp of sound created when the wind picked up her red curls and tossed them around.

The storm was coming and the tumult of Mother Nature matched the one in his heart and mind. And here was his hurricane, ready to blow down his defenses. He didn’t even have time to run and find shelter. He remembered she had asked a question. “I’m going to Northam Castle.”

“I thought you were going to take me.” She cocked her head to the side, finger tapping in mock concentration against her lips as she took one step closer. “Yep. I distinctly remember you saying that once all this shit was over you’d take me with you. I think the title of Duchess was going to be on the table.”

He stepped back, giving himself space to think. He glanced behind him, the wall of the balcony three steps behind him. It wouldn’t be enough.

“My business is intact, thanks to you.” She smiled at him, not a full one but enough to make his heart ache with just how beautiful she was. “You even brought me back to life, or death, you know what I mean.”

He didn’t join her in her laugh. He didn’t know what to say, what to do.

“So…” she continued, taking another step closer. “Were you going to tell me about this trip? Or was I going to show up and hear it from Andy?”

He just stared at her. She’d pretty much gotten it all right up to this point. He wasn’t going to lie and he wasn’t entirely sure if the truth would piss her off even more.

“I was just going to leave.”

“I see.” She stared at him, eyes wide, the smile vanishing like the first streak of lightning in the sky just over her right shoulder. Her composure broke with the first big fat drops of rain on her face, her bottom lip quivering. “Where did you go, Deacon? I saw you die and then you were gone.”

This he could answer, a recitation of facts he could manage without falling apart.

“Mya brought me here, fed me blood from my stash, and then she took off when Ramirez arrived. I spent the next twenty-four hours at the station explaining what happened at your house and how I didn’t realize that David was the killer.” He shrugged, still not easy with how off he’d been in this case. “Still can’t believe I missed him.”

“He had Mya fooled, too. Used her pillow talk about me to get to you.”

This he knew. “Yeah, I talked to her. Told her all was forgiven since she brought me back to life and all.” He rubbed his chest where she’d laid her hands on him. He was still tender from her fey mojo, but he’d deal with it. It was damn better than the alternative. But he didn’t think he’d forget Mya in her Grand Fey form. Beautiful and terrible in her righteous vengeance. Truly magnificent.

“David was a true sleeper. His life wasn’t a cover, it was really him.” He’d pored over all the details with Andy and Ramirez, providing enough information to the police department that they now had to take the threat of FAR seriously. “A lifetime of training, planning, his family just waited for the right time to make the biggest splash on a national level and that was why they focused on you. I was just an added bonus.”

“And FAR?”

“It’s still out there and we both need to be careful, but I don’t think the remaining members will tangle with us for a while. David brought the whole organization out into the light and the prying eyes of the FBI and Congress. What little they have left is severely compromised.”

“So we’ll never be truly safe.”

“Not as long as assholes hate people for being different…no.”

“Why did you disappear? Why didn’t you come see me?” She took several steps forward, advancing on him until he was backed up against the wall. “You tell me you love me. You give your life for me, and then you ditch me?”

“You told me you didn’t want me in your life anymore. I promised to leave you alone when I got you to drink. I was determined to keep that promise.”

“You can’t believe anything I say when I’m
human
.” She tried to joke but it fell flat. He wasn’t in the mood to laugh about any of this right now.

“I was trying to do the right thing.”

“Is that what you want to do? The right thing?”

He nodded.

“Then don’t leave me. Don’t make me live my immortality without you. I will die a little every day until I am nothing but a shell of myself.”

Cici swayed toward him, her body begging him to hold her, but he couldn’t. “You had it right, Cici. I lied to you, hid things from you that you had a right to know, and then I failed you.
Again
. In what book does that make me deserving of you or your love?”

“You don’t deserve me.” He flinched a little at her words, the shock subsiding a bit when he heard her next words. “I don’t deserve you, either. I didn’t let you explain. I jumped to conclusions over two hundred years ago and hurt you.”

“That was my fault.
”

“Stop. We both screwed up so in my book that means we could only deserve each other. We belong together and always have. We just caused a lot of heartache by taking so long to figure it out.”

He jumped slightly, so intent on her face that he failed to notice her sneak a hand out to touch his chest. But he definitely noticed the weight of her touch, the sizzle that shot straight to his groin and made him achingly hard for her.

It was raining in earnest now. The drops soaking her hair and turning it a deep auburn, transforming her dress into a translucent, clinging fabric caress of her curves, dips, and delicious hollows. The rain was cool against his fevered skin, the air thick with the arc of impending lightning and igniting his desire.

“I’m trying to do the right thing.” And he was. For the first time he was backing off, giving her space, trying hard not to push, but she was making it difficult.

“I don’t like the beast when he’s tamed.” Cici pressed her body up against his own. His hands immediately snapped up, cupping her ass and hips as she moved against him. “Show me that you meant it when you said you love me.”

“What?” Her touch made him stupid; it had been too long.

“Where’s the man who spied on me for two centuries? The one who arrogantly bullied me every step of the way?”

Deacon stared at her. Nothing she said was making sense.

“You’ve got to spell this out for me, Cici. I don’t want to take the wrong step and get shut out again.” He searched her face for some clue about what was going on here. “You killed me when you sent me away.”

She sobered then. The flashing in her eyes dimmed with pain. “And still you returned to The Ash for me anyway.”

Her hair was hanging down her back in silky wet strands and he gave in and wove his fingers into it, tugging her head back to look into his eyes. The rain was coming down hard, running in rivulets down her face, her neck, between her breasts.

“I would do it again if I had to.” He leaned his forehead against hers, brushing her lips with his, his tongue sliding out to test the seam of her mouth. “I would do it again.”

She cupped his face, drawing him close, within a hairbreadth of sealing the path they were poised to take.

“I love you, Cici. I always have. Always will.”

“I love you, too. Always have. Always will.”

He pulled her up tight against him, taking her mouth with a hunger that he could not control. She tasted of spice and icy winter, her kiss warm and wet as she opened to him immediately, wrapping her hands around his neck with desperation.

Deacon groaned, cupping her ass to lift her and carry her to the large iron table on the balcony. He released her lips, trailing his own down the arched column of her neck, nipping and tasting her soft skin there and even lower to the valley between her breasts. He drank the rain from her flesh, sipping each droplet as it cascaded over the swells.

“Deacon,” Cici moaned. “Please.”

She did not need to beg. Cici would never have to ask him twice.

He ran his hands down the silken length of her legs, rucking up the sodden mass of her skirt to expose heaven to his gaze. Her panties were slivers of green silk and he wasted no time in ripping them off, tossing the shards on the ground.

Cici laughed, her fingers delving under his T-shirt, tugging at it in silent request. Deacon reached over his shoulder, yanking the garment over his head, the sound of tearing cotton wrenching another throaty laugh from her.

“I see the beast is no longer calm.”

“It’s your fault. I see you and all I want to do is strip you down and make you come over and over again until you’re hot and wet enough for me to just slide right in and take what I need.”

Her eyes flashed bright blue, her nails ran down his chest, the sensation on the edge between pleasure and pain. “Then take it.”

Deacon dropped to his knees, burying his tongue in the hot, clenching depths of her core. He fucked her like that, tasting her pleasure, lapping at the slick pink folds of her sex until she writhed beneath him, her fingernails digging into his back with each lick.

His cock was throbbing, pulsing painfully with each moan and gasp from her. The wind was wailing, rain pelting them both, lightning crackling in the distance, but he couldn’t have stopped this storm. He needed it. He craved her surrender, that moment when they were completely and totally one person.

Deacon moved his mouth higher, finding her clit swollen and heavy against his tongue. He inserted two fingers into her channel, letting her lube coat them as he sought her sweet spot, the one guaranteed to make her come and come.

His first sucking pull on her clit made her core clench around him tightly, and his cock jumped in response. The second set her off like fireworks; her back bowed off the table, thighs clamped around his head as she rode out wave after wave of her orgasm.