Sharing Sirius (4 page)

But he knew the answer and he didn’t like it. His body was searching out its own solution to the ennui. He knew the ways to fight it, had seen old ones surrounded by their lovers. At the time he’d barely seen five decades, and the idea of living that long seemed extravagant—the old ones back then were Vampires who’d helped the Romans invade Britain. But now everyone he’d grown up with was gone. The friends he’d made in royal courts were dead. Even the children he’d sired were dead—one in a witch hunt and one in the French Revolution.

When he was fighting in the Crusades, he’d never expected to live to see the end of the century, now here he was and he was battling himself. He was an old one. He could deny it and give up and die or give in and feel like shit. He kept his gaze down, unable to even look at himself in the mirror. There was no such thing as an easy death for a Vampire.

* * * * *

The crowd stomped and called out their favorite songs. In between the old tracks they put the new, giving the audience a taste of the latest Lucinda’s Lover album. It was darker and had more depth than some of their earlier offerings. Yet the humans and non-humans alike seemed satisfied. Owen scanned the mixed crowd.

Open gigs still set him on edge, as if he expected someone to turn and start a massacre. Or worse, Vampire hunters to sweep in and kill. It had happened before, centuries ago in an ale house where Vampires had congregated. He glanced at the other band members, Aidan, Etienne and William.

His gaze lingered on William’s bare back, sweat trickling down his spine and slipping into his leather pants. The man was just as attractive now as he had been three centuries ago. It had taken a century for them to even tolerate being in the same room together after they’d broken up. In the end, artistic need had won out over wounded pride and broken hearts.

His fingers skipped over strings as the music slowed and took on a slower rhythm. They’d never managed to escape a venue without playing
Pistols at Dawn
. It was an in-joke created from the tension between him and William, with nods back to the first time Lucinda’s Lover had played over a century ago as The William Black Quartet.

He was fucking sick of playing it. And yet tonight to the chants of
draw
and the reverberation of the stomping in the mosh pit, it took on a more dangerous edge. The hot stage lights illuminated William and him as they circled. William’s green eyes were lit with magic as he fed off the crowd’s emotions. Absinthe was the stage name he used—and had once been his drink of choice. The Shaman blood in William always rose to the surface during a show. The day William had enchanted him had been the last day of their relationship.

William had better control now, no doubt one of the women in the crowd was already half under his spell. Her dream of screwing one of the band backstage was about to come true. William never took anyone home. Owen shook his head. How many years and the same thing repeats?

They traded measures. Each one rising in complexity, each one unscripted—though he was sure they’d all been played before at some time. He lunged as if to attack. William sidestepped and lashed out with his bow. Owen caught it with his own as if they were fencing. After this, the bow was only good for the bin. They never used the expensive violins either, not after William’s treasured Amati had almost had a near-fatal accident.

His bow slid down, then he rapped William over the knuckles. If it hadn’t been an open concert, there’d have been fangs involved. Being the smart-ass, William switched hands and played left-handed. Cocky son-of-a-bitch. That was why William was first violin. All show and little substance.

William played his next musical challenge and Owen conceded he did have talent—he’d taught him, after all. The next time William struck out with his bow, Owen brought his down hard. Miraculously, his didn’t break. William’s did, so he cast it aside and plucked at the strings like a peasant on a banjo. The crowd went wild.

You’ve got to be kidding me
.

But no, he’d lost the duel to William. William swept the audience a low bow best suited to courtiers before their queen. Then he turned to Owen and clapped his hands so the audience could acknowledge him too.

But the thrill of applause was missing. It didn’t lift his spirits the way it once had. Yet he smiled and hid his sigh and acted as if nothing was wrong. Jack was right. If he didn’t do something, he’d be too far gone to ever lead a normal life again. He’d be like the deranged rat-drinking Vampires who populated B-grade horror films, desperately trying to find something that made life worth living. Or worse, he’d end up alone like William.

Chapter Three

“We meet again, Katya.” Jack raised his cup of coffee in salute before taking a sip.

“So we do.” She smiled, but it was tight. Not because she was wary of what Jack would suggest this time, but because the idea that he’d planted in her mind had taken root and was growing far faster than she liked.

That, and he was right about Owen. Owen was losing interest in life.

She raised one fair eyebrow. “I thought you’d have gone to the launch last night.”

“I went to the last two, plus I’m behind on a job and I don’t want to piss the client off.”

She looked at him again and saw the tiredness in his eyes. “Not your first coffee of the day.”

“Or my last cup of the night.” He gave her a rueful smile, and in that moment she saw what attracted Owen. He could be luminous, as if no one else existed in the world but the person he was talking to. How could she have ever mistaken him for being human? And he cared, about his job and about his lover. To be the center of his attention would be amazing.

“Why don’t you have a
chokolat
instead, it might give you a boost.” She offered him her mug.

Jack shook his head. “I can’t take in etheric in such large quantities. I’m just tired…”

And worried
. He didn’t say it. He didn’t need to.

“Have you spoken to Owen?” She wished she hadn’t asked as Jack twisted his lips into a grimace that had nothing to do with the strength of his coffee.

“You try telling a seven-century-old Vampire what’s good for him and see how far you get.”

She nodded. Owen could be determined, but she liked that about him. No was merely an obstacle, not the end.

“And you?” He brushed her cheek with his fingers as if sweeping aside an imagined strand of hair. “Have you thought about what I said?”

Heat crept up her cheek in the wake of his touch. Jack pulled his hand away too fast, as if her skin burned him. She couldn’t meet his gaze without betraying her thoughts—and those kinds of thoughts should be kept private. She didn’t want to admit her lust for Owen to his lover, and yet it wasn’t just thoughts of Owen that had been sneaking through her dreams. After seeing Jack walking up the beach, she wouldn’t mind seeing him walking into her bedroom…or tasting him.

“I’m not fangs for hire.” She tried to sound casual, as if the idea of being caught between the two men held no attraction. The more she learned about Jack, the more alluring he became.

“I know. Even though I can sense your desire, you deny it, fight it. It’s why it has to be you.” He paused. And she risked looking up. “It’s why I can trust you.”

Her heart skipped a beat. He shouldn’t trust her. He shouldn’t be offering his lover to her. If he’d come to her requesting a casual threesome, she could’ve refused. If it had been anything other than trying to save Owen. But she cared too much about Owen to walk away. And if Jack lost Owen, he’d be devastated. She put her arms around him as if she could hold him together. She didn’t want to see the heartache in his eyes. And she didn’t want to be able to rationalize what they were discussing.

She should’ve walked away, but it was far too late for that. She couldn’t let Owen sink into the mindless ennui, she wanted him. In her heart, a tiny part of her hoped that she could have him all, but when she looked at Jack, she knew she couldn’t take from him, not after the sacrifice he was making. Instead she wanted to give him something in exchange.

Katya placed her hands on either side of his face. He hadn’t shaved and his stubble tickled her skin in a way that tantalized and sent a shiver of longing down her spine and into her belly. His hands covered hers, his palms warm from cradling his cup of coffee. For a moment neither moved.

Then she kissed him. For a heartbeat he didn’t respond, as if he were too stunned to do anything. Her fangs lengthened as she sank into the kiss and his tongue flicked along her lower lip. Tentative, as if he wasn’t sure what he was doing. Heat pooled in her belly, need dampening her panties. She rose onto her toes, the length of his erection pressing against her stomach, but he stepped back, breaking the connection.

“This isn’t for me.” He lowered her hands but didn’t release them.

It didn’t matter though, she knew he was attracted to her even if he claimed this was all for his lover. Jack had the strength of will to match Owen. Together they would be amazing. Her heart pounded hard, as if she’d been running, not kissing, but she managed a nod.

“Then where does that leave you? And me? And us?”

“I don’t know.” He looked at their joined hands.

Maybe Jack had it wrong. “What if Owen doesn’t want me as much as you think he does?”

Jack closed his eyes and delicate lines formed at the corners. “He does. I’d rather him in your bed than losing his mind and me losing him.” When he opened his eyes, they had lost their sparkle and the pain was back.

Katya sighed. “I never wanted him like this.”

“Neither did I, and yet here we are like conspiring lovers.” He forced a smile and for a moment she wondered if they ever could be lovers or if there was too much angst between them.

She didn’t envy his situation. What would she have done in his place? Would she have had the balls to ask for help? Would she have had the guts to follow through? Would she have had the stomach to live with the consequences?

She’d like to think she could be that selfless, but in her heart she didn’t think she could do it. Jack was far braver than she was. His love for Owen must be something special. And she was about to dent it. She felt like crud. Yet if she put the letter on the desk and ran away, she knew she’d feel worse.

Katya took a breath and released it slowly. “Then we are in agreement? I will pursue Owen?”

He nodded. “You have my—” he choked on the word. “Just don’t rub my face in it.”

She remembered every kiss she’d seen the men share over the past three years, the looks and the touches. At first she’d been shocked at the open display, then a subtle kind of envy had crept in. They were perfect together and watching them was a reminder Owen would never look twice at her—even if there was lust in that first glance.

Would he act on that desire?

And if he did, what would that mean? And what would that make her? She didn’t want to be the mistress. The woman on the side. She wanted more. She looked at Jack as she sucked on her lower lip. He’d kissed her back and she’d felt the hard length of his cock. He at least found her attractive, even if he was unwilling to act on the attraction.

Instead of carving out his heart by stealing Owen, maybe they could have something more. She bit the inside of her lip and tried to ignore the slicking of her pussy. Maybe she could have both men…that way Jack wouldn’t be losing and she wouldn’t feel as if she was going behind Jack’s back, even though he knew.

Her hand slid up his chest. The muscle was firm beneath her fingers and she couldn’t help but remember him looking golden and wet as he walked up the beach. She wanted to see how far that tan extended.

“We don’t have to be on opposite sides.” Before he could respond, she reached up and took a quick kiss. Her fangs raked over his lower lip, drawing twin lines of red.

He grunted, the soft sound of a man who was used to being bitten and the pleasure it brought. She swept her tongue over the cuts and the sweetness of his blood filled her mouth and sparked a craving deep in her belly. He didn’t move as she licked the last drop and gave him a final kiss. But she heard his heart. A rapid hammer of desire that couldn’t be hidden from a Vampire. There was more to Jack than he was saying. And while she didn’t doubt he was worried about Owen, there was something else.

His eyelids fluttered open, his eyes dark as if for a moment he’d lost himself and forgotten what he was doing. “Katya I…” He swallowed as his gaze dropped to her lips, her fangs. His heart raced afresh. “If I do anything, I would be cheating. While I am turning a blind eye, Owen would not.”

She nodded and considered the dhampir. He wanted to, that was something. “I understand.”

“No, you don’t. But if you love him like I think you do, you will and then you will hate me.” He wiped the last smear of blood from his lip with his thumb; the cuts she’d made were already healed. He healed faster than any Vampire she’d ever met.

“I couldn’t hate you.” Her tongue touched her fang, looking for another drop of his blood. Like forbidden candy, she wanted more. But unless Owen gave permission, Jack was off limits. Those were the rules and she would have to play by them…and so would Jack.

“We’ll see.” He tossed his coffee down the sink. “I’m already hating me.”