To Curse the Darkness (24 page)

“Armand,” she sighed unhappily. “Don't. You can't.”

“Shhh,” he whispered, still nuzzling her neck. “I know. Just trust me.”

“I do,” she answered, wriggling impatiently. That wasn't the problem. “Isn't that obvious?”

“Just relax.”

“I'm trying!”

Right now, the only thing likely to calm her nerves was a hit of venom—the one thing she couldn't ask for. How stupid was she to have put herself in this position? They'd all told her it was a bad idea, but she had been so sure she knew better.

A quick tug on her hair focused her attention back on Armand. Julie inhaled sharply. The simple move was effective and unexpectedly arousing. She wasn't sure if that had been his plan, but it certainly did the trick.

“Better?” he inquired with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Julie couldn't turn her head to see if he was smiling, but she'd bet anything that he was. She couldn't nod either. “Ye-yes,” she whispered back at him. She was painfully aware of Brennan's presence and not at all certain she wanted him to see her like this. She closed her eyes and focused harder on relaxing, on forgetting about the hunger, pretending, once again, that she and Armand were alone together.

Someday soon, they'd have to try that and see what it was like to be together with no one else in the room with them, no one else in bed with them—no one else in her head.

“Lie down slowly,” Armand said, addressing his words to Brennan. “No sudden moves.”

Slow?
Julie's eyes popped back open. She growled softly in warning.
Oh, no, no, no
. She didn't want slow. She wanted fast. She wanted now. She wanted everything.

“Shhh.” Armand whispered. “Just hold on. Not long now.”

The scent of Brennan's blood as he eased himself down beside her hammered at Julie's self-control. Were it not for Armand's grip holding her still, his soothing voice in her ear, she would have lunged at Brennan by now, desperate to take what she wanted, what she needed, what she would surely die without.

Growling softly, she closed her eyes once again and focused hard on staying as still as she could. Hungry. She was so, so hungry.

“Listen to me now,” Armand said, and Julie shivered as the dark timbre of his voice seemed to brush against her skin. “This is important. You asked me to help you and I will. But you need to do exactly as I tell you. I'm in charge now. Do you understand?”

She still couldn't nod, so she whispered, “Yes.”

“Good. Now I want you to take this nice and slow. As soon as you're ready you can go ahead and lick him, but no biting. Not yet. Not until I tell you.”

Brennan shifted even closer until finally Julie's tongue made contact with his flesh. The taste of his blood exploded on her palate and her blood sang in relief. She reached for him greedily, without thinking, but Brennan caught hold of her hands and folded them together, wrapping his own hands around them. “You heard the man, babe,” he said, pressing their joined hands to his chest. “Not yet.”

She should have felt imprisoned with both men surrounding her, curtailing her movements, holding her still. Calling the shots. But somehow she didn't. It felt freeing in a way—possibly because of who they were. There was so much tenderness in their voices and in the way they held her, it left her feeling cherished instead of confined. Within minutes, she felt her nerves begin to settle.

“Are you ready for a little more now?” Armand asked a short while later.

He'd loosened his hold on her hair somewhat by then, so she nodded. Yes.

“All right then, here's what I want you to do.” He paused for an instant, and she imagined him licking his lips before he continued. “Do you remember that night—it was several months ago—we'd gone out dancing and were accosted on the way home? Do you remember what you did then?”

Julie's lips firmed. She wanted to tell him she had no idea what he was talking about. Wanted to ask how he could possibly expect her to remember something that had happened months and months ago.

But the truth was she remembered everything about that night. For one thing, it was the night after she and Brennan had broken up for the first time. She'd been feeling raw and unhappy, still reeling from her first real heartbreak. When Armand had invited her out, she couldn't think of a single good reason to say no.

She was still pretty new to the city, definitely new to dating vampires, and Armand… He was mature, sophisticated, decades older than anyone she'd ever dated—yet ages younger than the men who'd raised her. In some ways he seemed completely out of her league. But, on the other hand, he was also practically the only vampire in the entire city who didn't terrify her. The only one who seemed to broadcast on the same wavelength, so to speak. So while she'd been flattered to have been the object of his attention, she was also relieved that it was he who'd asked her out, rather than any of the others.

Even then she'd felt a connection between them. Even then she'd sensed he was someone she could trust.

So, yes, if she were honest, she'd wanted to show off for him that night, maybe even flirt a little. But
only
a little, just enough to dip her toes in the water, just enough to see what it was like. She had no intention of getting in over her head.

Until, suddenly, there she was, so deeply entrenched, she wondered how she'd ever get out.

“
Chérie
? Are you listening to me? Do you know what I'm talking about?”

“Yes.” Of course she did. She remembered the way they'd turned the tables on their would-be assailant, how they'd toyed with the frightened man and, hopefully, taught him a lesson he'd deserved and would never forget. But, in the end, it hadn't really been about him at all. It had been about them—her and Armand. It had been about the crazy heat that had flared between them, the intense arousal, so very different from what she'd been used to. And, ultimately, it had been about the fear, that tsunami-size suspicion that she was too young for him, still decades away from being ready for what he was offering. “Yes, I remember.” Too damn well.

“Good. Then you'll know what I want you to do.”

Julie frowned. “What? No…” The way they'd used that man… He couldn't mean that, could he? It wasn't that she regretted what they did. The man had pulled a knife on them! He'd gotten off easy. He'd deserved everything they'd done to him and more. But this was different. This was
Brennan
! “Why?”

Armand dipped his head, nuzzling at her neck again. “Because you asked me to make sure you didn't hurt anyone, isn't that so? And it seems to me that not biting Brennan more than once is a good place to start. Easier, safer, less stressful for you both. Wouldn't you agree?”

When he put it like that, “I-I guess so.” Still, it seemed wrong somehow, as though Brennan had never been special to her, as though she were only using him. Although, when she came right down to it, wasn't she?

She pressed her nose to Brennan's neck for a moment, remembering everything they'd once shared, everything they'd been to each other. All of that was over now,
had
to be over, for both their sakes. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear. “Thank you for everything. Especially for being my friend.”

Brennan's hands clasped hers a little tighter. “I'll always be that, Jules. You brought my son back. I'd do anything for you after that, even if we weren't friends. But we are and I hope that never changes.”

“Me too.”

Growing up the way she had, she'd never had a friend; it hadn't been possible. Oh, Damian had tried his best, of course. When they were little, he'd searched out the best playgrounds in every new town they moved to, and made a point of taking her and Marc there on a regular basis—always remembering to bring enough toys and snacks to share. He'd identified all the friendliest, best-mannered, most-appropriate children, and then charmed their mothers into agreeing to a variety of playdates. And, for a little while, it had worked. But they'd moved around so much that none of these budding friendships had had a prayer of lasting. It was years before Julie realized they were never supposed to. By then she'd lost interest.

Friends shared confidences with one another, they stockpiled memories, they fought and made up and had each other's backs. She'd never been able to do that with anyone. The closest she'd come to having that kind of a relationship was with Marc, the traitor. Her brother had new friends now, a new family he'd committed to. He'd left her behind without a second thought. He didn't even share his secrets with her anymore—not even when those secrets involved her!

Still, she liked the idea that she had a friend now in Brennan. And she really hoped they'd be able to remain friends past tonight, but she sure wasn't counting on it. Because while friends might help each other out from time to time, real friends didn't use each other. That was a fairly firm line—novice though she was, even she knew that! And what she was about to do nudged against that line pretty hard. She pressed a kiss against Brennan's neck, offering a silent apology. Then she angled her head and deliberately fit her fangs into the puncture wounds Armand had made.

It might have been safer than biting him again—she wasn't about to argue with that. But it also wasn't the easiest fit. And, unless Armand had given Brennan an especially hefty dose of venom, it was probably not going to be real comfortable either.

Armand's jaw was wider than hers, which meant the distance between his teeth was wider too. That had been equally true the first time she'd done this, of course, but she hadn't cared then. Now, however, she was very much aware of the way her teeth pulled at Brennan's flesh, stretching the split skin. She went slowly, carefully easing her fangs in deeper. She laved the area repeatedly with her tongue, hoping to soothe the burn, finally risking the tiniest bit of venom. When a low moan broke from Brennan's lips, she was reasonably confident she'd succeeded. She knew that sound. That had not been the sound of a man in pain.

At last everything was in place. With her mouth latched securely on Brennan's neck, she began to feed in earnest, and immediately felt her mind start to drift away. She felt safe, secure, at peace with the world and her place in it. It was blissful to have Brennan's essence filling her mouth, soothing her senses, wiping away the hunger, but there was a bittersweet quality to it as well. It wasn't just because she'd missed the taste of him that she felt such a deep sadness right now, or even because she'd never thought she'd have him again. It was because her body's need for sustenance trumped everything else. She was hungry. He was food. Sometimes it was just that simple.

Brennan freed one of his hands and wrapped an arm around her, gathering her close. He groaned again, a soft, contented sound. Relieved to have kept her thoughts to herself, Julie relaxed against him, clinging just a little more tightly because, this time, she knew for certain it was for the last time.

She and Brennan had said goodbye before, but this was the first time she knew in her heart that they were really and truly over, that they'd finally moved on. They'd be friends in the future, perhaps, hopefully, if things worked out. But they would never again be anything more.

She was glad, however, that she could give him this little bit of pleasure here at the end, glad this thing between them wasn't entirely one-sided. She did spare one worried thought to the idea that she still might lose control and take too much from him—a legitimate concern given how hungry she was. But she trusted Armand. He'd promised he wouldn't let her hurt Brennan, and she believed him. As long as he was here, she had nothing to fear. Everything would be okay.

She and Brennan were over. She and Armand? Well, that remained to be seen. For right now, however, she was content with what she had: his heat branding her back, his arms holding all her worst impulses in check, his strength protecting, not just her, but everything she treasured, everything her heart held dear.

Come to think of it, maybe Armand was the reason her heart wasn't breaking tonight. Maybe Brennan wasn't her only friend after all.

“I remember how impressed I was the first time I watched you feed,” Armand murmured, watching as Julie clung to her lover, determined to tell her something of what he was feeling, even if those feelings could never be reciprocated. “I think I began to fall for you in that moment. Your attention to detail, your exquisite technique—I couldn't understand how someone so young could be so accomplished. Maybe I should have guessed then that there was more to you than met the eye. Or maybe, deep down inside, I did know, even then. There was something so familiar about you. I knew we'd never met before, yet I felt like we had. I was obtuse not to have guessed why that was, not to have seen the resemblance to your mother right away.”

Maybe he hadn't wanted to see. Maybe he'd had a good reason for burying his head in the sand. The problem was not just that Julie looked like her mother; it was that, in many ways, she was everything her mother might have become had she lived.

Armand had lost Desert Rose so many times in the past, in so many ways. Yet every time he thought he'd seen the last of her, she'd proved him wrong. She was like a ghost—even when she'd been alive—always coming back to haunt him, to taunt him with the knowledge that she would never be his. Maybe what he was really afraid of was that Julie would turn out to be merely the latest incarnation of that phenomenon, the love he longed for yet never could find a way to keep.

*****

“How are you feeling now?” Christian asked.

Georgia took her time answering. His words were as solicitous as his handling of her—calm, careful, considerate—but he could not hide that shimmering hint of excitement in his tone, or the slight tremor that shook his hands as he gently deposited her on her bed.