When Wicked Craves (19 page)

Of course, a man like Nicholas—both experienced and with vampiric senses—could probably sense her desire. The thought startled her, but it didn’t embarrass her. She wanted him. And about that she refused to be ashamed.

She nodded toward the window. “I’m glad you got to see your sunrise. How long has it been?”

“Too long,” he said.

She stood beside him, trying to look at the sunrise through his eyes. For a few moments, the silence hung comfortably between them, and she wished that they could stay that way for a while. Together, easy. But nothing was easy right then.

She drew in a breath and turned from warm sunrises to cold practicality. “Are we safe here?”

He indicated the glass. “Apparently so.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“We should be safe,” he said. “Serge has protections
on the apartment that should shield them from being able to detect your magic, though as you say, it’s minute enough that we might be safe anyway. Perhaps Kiril could find you, but we’re thousands of miles away, and even if he—or the Alliance—approaches, there are security monitors planted around the building and breach detectors. We’ll have advance warning if we have to run.”

“Oh.” Somehow that didn’t make her feel better. Already she was tired of running. And with tonight’s moon, she didn’t want to be racing for her life.

He was watching her, his expression gentle. “I think we are safe here, at least for a bit. Try not to worry.”

She swallowed, embarrassed he could read so much in her face. “Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry about how I acted on the plane,” she said. “About being a bitch after my nightmare, I mean.”

“No need to apologize. After all, you were upset, and I was trying to provide some small amount of comfort. It makes perfect sense that would disturb you.” He grinned, and she laughed.

“I’m a complex individual, Nicholas. Get used to it.”

“Most people call me Nick.”

“Am I most people?”

His grin stretched wide. “No. You most definitely are not.” He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as a scientist might examine a new specimen. She kept silent, afraid to ask what new thing he saw in her. “It’s not a weakness, you know.”

“What?”

“You were mad at me because I provided something you were unable to give to yourself. Comfort.”

“What are you? Freud the vampire?”

“Nothing so ill conceived, I assure you. But I am observant.”

“I like the way you talk, you know. Like every once in a while you forget what century you’re in.”

“Sometimes, I think I do forget. After so many centuries, you find that time begins to feel as though it’s circling back upon itself.”

“Can I ask you something?” She spoke before she could stop herself, and once the words were out, she knew she couldn’t call them back, though she knew she might be treading on dangerous ground.

“That depends on the question.”

“Right.” She certainly knew how that went. “It’s just that when we were back in Los Angeles … the way you were with Lissa, I mean. The way you stood. The way you looked at her. Were you in love with her once? You know. Before.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, and she tensed, afraid he would ask her why she cared, and that wasn’t a question she could answer because she didn’t know herself. All she knew was that she wanted to ask the question.

“I was,” he said.

“Are you still?”

“No.” That time, the answer came quick and certain, and when he lifted his eyes to look at her there was no hesitation. “I was … angry. For a long time. But it’s getting better.”

“That must have been hard.”

He cocked his head, his brow furrowing in question. “What?”

“She was the one, right? The one who betrayed you. The one that made you want to go see Ferrante again.”

He took a step back, then ran his hands through his hair. “Are you really this perceptive? Or am I so transparent?”

She shrugged and tried to flash a lighthearted grin. “I have mad PI skills,” she said. “Or maybe you’re transparent to me.”

She saw the laughter flash in his eyes and smiled in return, liking the way that talking to him made her feel. Liking it enough that it made her tongue loose, too, which wasn’t good, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “I’ve never been in love,” she said. “I tell myself I’m lucky, because it means my heart’s never been broken.” Her smile was crooked. “I’m an expert at lying to myself.”

“You are lucky,” he said, and she caught a glimpse of the man behind the reputation. The man who went from woman to woman, never staying. Never getting close. “Love is a damn sharp sword.” He looked up slowly, then met her eyes. “Desire, however …”

He let the thought trail off, then he moved toward the couch, leaving her to analyze his words. To wonder, and to hope. And to look at him hard and notice, for the first time, how pale he was, and how stiff his movements seemed to be. And when he sat, she got a good look at the jacket he’d buttoned quickly after they’d shifted from mist to human. A jacket that was slowly becoming stained with blood.

“Nicholas? What the hell is wrong with your chest?” She hurried to stand in front of him. “The bullet? Why hasn’t it healed?”

“It will,” he said.

“Open it,” she demanded.

He complied, and she gasped in horror at what she saw—a section of his chest exposed to the bone, raw and bloody.

“Holy shit,” she said.
“What did you—”

“Hematite,” he said. “The bullet was hematite.”

“But—but you got it out.” Her mind was spinning. Of course he got it out. He would have had to in order to transform. But then why was he still so injured? Vampires healed at a remarkable rate. Even a wound that large should have closed by now. “What do you need?” she asked. “What can I do?”

“I need to sleep,” he said. “And I need to feed. There is nothing you can do.”

The words were like a slap on the face, and she shook her head, then knelt before him, speaking before she’d even had time to think about it. “Yes there is,” she said. “You can feed off me.”

Nick looked at her, so earnestly there in front of him, and even through the thick sludge of exhaustion, his body responded, tightening with need at the very thought of her offer. An offer that he couldn’t accept.

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Petra?” he said with an indulgent smile.

“No, I—” She cocked her head. “Not now. Sleep now. But tonight. When the moon rises. Can I—I mean, will you feed from me tonight?”

“What are you—” And then he remembered.
The blue moon.

He should say no. He should tell her there were homeless in the tunnels on whom he could feed. Founts he could call—humans who were aware of the existence of vampires and charged a minimal fee, their compensation coming primarily in the form of the thrill of the taking.

Hell, he could even order out for synthetic.

And yet he said none of that. Because the truth was he did want her. He’d had a taste when they’d twined together in the sky, and now he desperately wanted to finish what they’d started. What he’d started.

She was offering her blood, but he would have more than that. He would have the woman, too.

“Are you strong enough?” he asked, tempering his desire.

“I feel good,” she said.

“Let me see your skin.” He spoke for no prurient purpose—he needed to see the color of her flesh and listen to the pulse of life within her. But as she slowly lifted the T-shirt she wore to expose her flat belly and tanned skin, he couldn’t deny the effect that the view had on him. He was tight with need, and suddenly, nightfall seemed much too far away. “We should leave when the sun goes down. We still have a long way to travel.”

“No.”

He lifted a brow, not used to being contradicted.

“We don’t even know how we’re getting across the Atlantic yet,” she said. “We seem to be safe here, and you need time to think. Time to heal. And I need—”

“Yes?”

Her chin rose defiantly. “I need to do this.” He held her gaze for a moment, until she seemed to sag under the weight of it. “You saved my life, Nicholas,”
she said, softly. “Let me feed you.”

“Is that all you wish?” He wanted to hear her say it. Her body was already speaking to him, the blood connection burning between them. But he wanted the words. Hell, he would insist upon them.

“No,” she said. “That’s not all.”

“What else do you want?”

She stayed silent.

“Petra, what else do you want?”

“I want you to touch me.” She met his eyes. “I want it badly.”

“Good.” He could feel her desire crashing against him like waves, stirring his own, making him curse the sun that had not yet even crested in the sky.

“Do you—” She cut herself off, as if the question was too much to ask. As if she feared the answer.

“I do,” he said. “But understand this, Petra. That makes it dangerous. I want you, but I need to feed. If I don’t stop in time …”

“You will,” she said, with such certainty that his doubts almost faded. Almost.

“I don’t think you fully understand the danger that you acting as a fount can pose.”

“I understand more than you think,” she said. “And you pose no danger to me.”

He almost laughed. “Is that a fact? Why?”

“Because there is something you want even more than me or my blood.” She looked at him, her expression defiant. “You rescued me in order to save Serge,” she said. “You won’t screw all that work up by killing me tonight.”

She smiled at him, as if silently begging him to argue. He didn’t. “Sleep,” she said. “Rest up.” Then she flashed a wicked grin before turning on her heel and leaving the room, her last words trailing behind her. “I think you’re going to need it.”

Nick watched her leave, overwhelmed by the odd and not entirely unwelcome realization that for the first time in a long time he’d truly met his match in a female.

Petra barely slept.

How could she when she knew what the night would bring. A
blue moon. That glorious extra full moon that she used to dread so much, the unfulfilled desire to be touched too hard to endure.

Tonight, she didn’t have to.

Nicholas had stayed on the sofa in front of the window when she’d gone in search of a bed in which to curl up. Now, she stretched, enjoying the luxury of soft sheets and a firm mattress.

She felt the cool brush of her mother’s bracelet moving on her wrist, and reached over to run her fingertips over the smooth stones. She’d lost everything else in the plane crash, but she was grateful she’d put the bracelet on earlier. At least she still had one piece of her past, even if the Bible and her journal were gone. And, of course, she still had her life.

She had Nicholas to thank for that, and the idea that she could thank him properly tonight made her grin like a satisfied cat. She could thank him—and she could save him, too.
She could let him feed.
The thought made her tingle with anticipation, the promise of such intimate contact leaving her breathless with desire.

She’d flirted shamelessly with him that morning, surprised by how easy it was even without the pull of the blue moon. Kiril would be shocked, of course. He’d repeatedly told her that casual sex during the blue moon would not satisfy.

She no longer believed him. This was an itch she wanted scratched, and she couldn’t imagine a man more appealing than Nicholas Montegue to scratch it.

And not just because he was so damn good looking. He was, of course. Hell, she could look at him for hours, examining his body like a curator would inspect a fine work of art. But that wasn’t what pushed him over the top. No, it was the whole package. The way he looked in a suit coupled with the way his mind clicked. That Hollywood handsome face complemented by a scientist’s intellect. And the inherent vampiric danger counterbalanced by a heart that would risk everything to save a friend.

He’d treated her like something precious, and though she had no illusions that she was with him in this condo for any reason other than to benefit Serge, she also knew that he wouldn’t use her harshly or take advantage of their intimacy. He had a reputation, after all. As far as first lovers went, she doubted that she could do better than Nicholas Montegue.

She closed her eyes, imagining him touching her, filling her. Flesh upon flesh, so close they were practically one. She’d been there with him already, as mist twined together, not knowing where one ended and the other began. She wanted to finish what they’d started in the sky. She wanted to tremble in his arms. Dear God, how she wanted it.

Had wanted it, in fact, since she’d first realized that
Nicholas would be beside her when the blue moon rose. Maybe even before.

And now, as the sun finally dipped below the horizon and shadows filled the room, the want had given way to need. And that, only for Nicholas.

Slowly, she moved to the edge of the bed, then swung her feet over. She sat there a moment, relishing the change in her. The soft eroticism of air against the fine hairs on her skin. The arousing way her jeans pressed tight against her crotch. Just like every blue moon, she was horny as hell.

This time, she was going to do something about it.