Thicker Than Water (17 page)

He stepped out into the street, raised an arm, and a cab appeared. He opened the door, gestured for Kia to get in, then slid in beside her.

“Where to?” he asked.

She really didn't want to show him where she lived—what would he think of the snooty doormen and the perfectly manicured shrubs in front of her high-rise? And how was she going to tell him she couldn't bring him home without saying that she was still only in high school?

She realized he and the cabdriver were waiting for her to give directions. “Fifth Avenue,” she said. “At Seventy-second Street.”

The cabbie did a U-turn and screeched up First Avenue.

Damon looked at her, as if trying to put together the address with her appearance. “You really
are
an uptown girl.”

“I like it over near the park,” Kia said. She couldn't tell if he approved or not. Mostly he just seemed puzzled.

It seemed strange to be doing something so ordinary—riding in a cab—with someone as exotic and mysterious as Damon. As if they were two regular people on a date.

“I can sense something dark in you,” Damon said, sliding closer. He draped his arm across the top of the seat. Kia leaned back so that her neck rested lightly on his arm. He stroked her shoulder. She shut her eyes again, willing him to kiss her.

She could feel his breath on her face. “Are you?” he whispered. “Dark?”

What is he asking
me? she wondered. There was a darkness inside her, a darkness that frightened her—but didn't frighten him. In fact, he seemed to like it. She arched her back and reached up for him, wrapping her fingers around his neck. She pulled his face toward her, those lips that were mere inches away, down onto her own. He held back a moment, his neck slightly stiff under her hand, then she could feel him give over to her.

It was the most power she had ever felt in her life.

As his tongue spread her lips apart and his grip on her shoulder tightened, her mind and body split. Her hands, her mouth, her muscles, her skin all took on a life of their own while her mind spiraled with thoughts:
1 did this. Damon's tongue is in my mouth, his hands are clutching me, and I made it happen.

He pulled away first, leaning back against the seat, but his arm was still across her shoulders. She watched him as he looked away from her and gazed out the cab window. His silence and turned face frightened her, and she thought about biting the back of his neck—it tempted her all on its own, and besides, maybe it would make him kiss her again. But she restrained herself.

The cab pulled to a stop and Damon slipped his arm away from Kia as he reached into his coat pocket. She fumbled in her purse and pulled out some bills.

“I've got it,” he said, handing money to the cabdriver.

She sat huddled by the door, wondering if he was going to get out with her or not. Maybe she shouldn't have kissed him?

He glanced at her. “This is the right place?” he asked.

“What?”

“So, are we getting out?”

“Right. Sorry. Just ... distracted.” Kia smiled tentatively.

He smiled back and she felt a flutter between her ribs.

The street was empty at the entrance to the park, and Kia wondered how late it was. It had to be well after midnight. The full moon hung low in the dark sky, but the city lights and streetlamps made it impossible to find any stars. She still reeled from kissing Damon, from feeling a kind of hunger for her in him. It made her giddy and she was afraid she'd giggle, or stumble, or blurt out something ridiculous. No one had ever had an effect like this on her before. No one.

Kia stared up at the inky expanse and took in a deep breath of frosty air. Her lungs filled with the cold night air and she suddenly felt wide awake.

She felt him watching her, waiting for her to do something, take him somewhere. There were stone benches along the park wall, and she took his hand, intending to lead him to one. All she could think of was getting her hands back on him.

“I haven't been up here in years,” Damon said. “I wonder how much of the landscape I remember.”

Kia had always been warned to never go into the park after dark, but with Damon she felt no fear, just exhilaration. As they walked deeper into the park, she realized that they were near the Great Lawn, where she, Carol, and Aaron had participated in that first Wicca ritual. She flashed back to earlier in the evening when she'd freaked out at Aaron's because of that stupid spell.

Tugging Damon's hand sharply, she pulled him to a stop and slid her arms inside his open coat. She pressed against him, her fingers clutching the back of his sweater, and she kissed his neck.

She felt him moan more than she heard him, and it made her brave. She continued to press her mouth against his skin, to lick him, to nibble her way around his throat and up to his mouth—and then they were kissing again.

He pulled away this time too, but he kept his arms around her. “You are very, very tempting,” he said.

“I'm glad,” Kia said.

“That's not always a good thing,” he said, smiling. “It makes things dangerous.”

“You don't seem afraid.”

“Oh, but I am,” he said, stepping away. He held up his hands as if he were trying to protect himself from her. “I'm terrified, can't you tell?”

Kia laughed and they started walking again. The park was quiet, and the deeper inside they got, the farther away the world seemed. It was just Kia and Damon. No one else. just how Kia wanted it.

“I've noticed you usually come in with Hecate or alone,” Damon said. “Most of the others travel in packs.”

Kia looked down at the ground so he wouldn't see her huge smile. He'd noticed her! He'd been paying attention!

“Shows confidence,” Damon said.

“I guess,” she said.

“Sometimes they seem so ... tiresome,” Damon said.

“Yeah,” Kia said, not quite sure what she was agreeing with.

“Like tonight. I just got sick of it.” He looked down at her. “And then I ran into you.”

“And ...” Kia bit her lip. “And you don't think I'm ... tiresome ?” She held her breath.

“I wouldn't be with you if I did. And I wouldn't have traveled so far uptown.” He laughed and took her hand.

Kia felt her chest expand.

She wanted to ask him about the strange things that Rex and Meredith had said earlier. They were probably the kinds of people he was talking about. The
tiresome
ones.

“That guy Rex,” Kia said, trying to figure out how to ask Damon about siring and blood bonding without sounding stupid. She'd heard the words in the clubs before but had never paid that much attention. Now she wished she had.

“Exactly,” Damon replied. He shook his head. “Rex Notorious. What a joke.” He grinned down at Kia. “He gives real vampires a bad name, don't you think?”

Kia stumbled on the path, and Damon gripped her arm to steady her. “Careful.”

He was joking, Kia told herself. He was making a joke.

“I mean, really,” Damon continued, guiding Kia more carefully over the uneven pavement. “What most of the people in the scene don't seem to get is that a real vampire wouldn't proclaim it so openly. Not at such public events.”

“Well, sure,” Kia said. “Right.”

“Not any self-respecting vampire, that is.”

“What?” Kia asked. Was Damon telling her that he was ... real?

Damon took a sharp right, leading Kia under one of the many stone bridges that dotted the park pathways. It was pitch-black under the bridge and smelled bad too. Damon didn't seem to notice; in fact, his pace slowed, while Kia's heart sped up. It was creepy in the darkness.

She heard a skittering movement and saw a pair of small gleaming eyes ahead of her. Her body tensed and she gripped Damon's cold hand harder.

He squeezed back. “It's just a rat,” he said quietly.

Oh, that's
all,
Kia thought. She didn't trust herself to speak—she was afraid she'd squeal with fear.

“Hello, fella,” Damon said as he passed the rat. It stood absolutely still, as if frozen. Even the sound of Damon's voice didn't startle it. It seemed almost tame. Or mesmerized.

They came out on the other side of the dark bridge and continued along the path to the lake. Damon sat on one of the benches and pulled Kia onto his lap. He took her face and gently turned it toward the lake. “See the moon? It's gone swimming.”

He was right: the full moon's reflection on the lake seemed to be underwater. “It's beautiful,” she murmured.

“When I first got to New York, I used to come here a lot,” Damon said. “I liked this spot.”

And he brought me here to share it.
Kia's body nearly went limp with desire for him. She felt as if she were melting.

He played with her hair, gazing at the jagged rocks across the lake, up at Belvedere Castle. “It always reminded me ...” His voice trailed off, as if he decided he shouldn't say anything more.

It was brighter in this spot; without the cover of trees the full moon could shine down on them, and the streetlamps were closer together. Kia could see a number of turtles at the edge of the lake scurry into the water and swim for the other shore.

She leaned against Damon, wondering what it was that he saw, what it was about the castle looming above him that drew him here. She realized she had no idea where he came from, where he grew up.

She moved her head to see his face—he continued staring straight ahead. Sometimes he looked just a few years older than Hecate, maybe twenty-five at most. But right now, he seemed much, much older. As if he'd seen too much, experienced more than he should have.

His dark eyes flicked to her face, his brows furrowed, and he shifted her on his lap so he could really look at her. “You're sad again.”

She nodded but didn't speak, amazed by how easily he could read her.

He touched her cheek, his fingers even colder than her face. “You don't have to tell me,” he said. “We can just sit here.”

She leaned into him, hiding her face against his shoulder.

He tightened his hold on her. “Whatever it is that's making you sad. It's why you don't want to go home.”

Kia nodded into his neck.

“I get that.” He let out a long slow breath. “Believe me, I get it.”

Kia turned and her mouth brushed his jaw. This time Damon turned the gesture into a kiss; his fingers tangled in her hair, and as the kiss grew deeper and more intense, he slid her off his lap. Once she was beside him on the bench, he somehow shifted her back up onto him so that she straddled him. His hands pressed hard on her hips, pulling her down onto him. Their breath became ragged, became moans, and Kia knew that she would do anything he asked her.

They pulled apart a moment; Kia wanted to see his beautiful face, to remind herself that he was real, that she was really with Damon. Her eyes flicked to a movement behind the bench. She gasped.

A row of rats sat behind them. Watching them.

“What's wrong?” Damon asked, trying to pull her back down to kiss him.

“I—I—” She shuddered.

Damon released her and moved her off him. “You're right. This is not a good idea.”

“No!” she yelped. “It's—” She turned to look at the rats again so she could explain. They weren't there anymore. Had she imagined them?

“Come on, it's late.” Damon stood up and held out a hand.

“What?” Kia stared at him.

“I'll get you back to your place. Can't risk sunrise, you know,” he added, grinning.

Kia smiled back weakly. “Of course not.”

They walked back in silence, the only sound their hard heels hitting the pavement. Kia kept her eyes on the ground, not wanting him to see the struggle she knew was playing across her face. Her cold fingers fiddled frantically with the lining of her coat pockets as she desperately tried to think of something to say.

Was he mad at her? The idea made her stomach churn. Those stupid rats. Her feet scuffed pebbles, scattering them.

A low growl up ahead pulled Kia out of her thoughts. A dog standing by an overturned garbage can barked at them. Damon pulled Kia to a stop. He glared at the dog. “Go,” Damon said quietly.

The dog stopped barking. It lowered its head and its ears flattened. It whined and whimpered, then turned and ran away.

“I'm not much of a dog lover,” Damon said, walking again.

Rats he was okay with; dogs he didn't like. She felt a quick chill.

They reached the edge of the park and Damon looked down at her. “I'll take you to your place, but I won't come up. Okay?”

Kia gazed up at him, her face relaxing. A smile of understanding replaced her worried, pursed lips. He wasn't mad—he was controlling himself. Should she tell him anything he wanted to do was all right with her? Then she remembered that she couldn't invite him upstairs.

“Okay,” she said.

They strolled along the empty streets, Damon joking about the rich people who lived in the neighborhood, talking about music, telling her things about the city she didn't know—about the subway station that was never completed years and years ago but was still there like an underground ghost town, about colonial days, about places on the Lower East Side that had been notorious in the nineteenth century. She didn't pay much attention; she couldn't. She was too aware of him, too alive to his presence to be able to hear anything other than the sound of his voice. She did wonder how he knew so much history, about things that took place so long ago, how old he really was, where he had come from—but then she caught sight of his sharp cheekbone, the lips that had been on her mouth, and she lost the thread of the thought.