Eternity and a Year (7 page)

She nodded reluctantly. “Thanks.”

“And Carrie…”

She stiffened at the undercurrent of concern in Brendan’s words. “Yeah?”

“The house smells like wine. A lot of wine, and some stronger drinks, too.”

Carrie stared at him blankly.
Smells?
She wasn’t that bad at cleaning!

It was as if Brendan had read her thoughts. “It’s not just blood I can smell so well,” he said. “It’s everything. I can smell the stir-fry you made for yourself in the kitchen.”

Carrie’s eyes widened. “That was days ago!”

Brendan’s reddish gaze bored into her, concerned and sympathetic. “I’m not criticising you. I would have spent the whole past year drunk, if I were human and could have. I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to talk about it.”

Carrie frowned and shook her head. “No. You’re back. That’s all over now.” She had no desire to relive the nights she’d spent in hazy forgetfulness, nor the brutal mornings that had followed.

He squeezed one of her hands in his. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am.” Carrie was enjoying having his hand over hers and his body next to her on the couch. She would have done anything—absolutely anything—to have had him there beside her on those lonely nights.

Brendan nodded and flipped open his new cell phone. “Well, I’ll call in some dinner, then. What do you want to eat?”

When a pizza had been ordered, delivered and partially eaten by Carrie, Brendan packed the rest away in the otherwise empty refrigerator. “What now?” he asked, lightly rubbing her shoulders. “I’m here, so I might as well stay a while.”

Carrie grasped one of his hands firmly. “Damn right, you’re staying,” she said with a scowl. “And if you disappear when I fall asleep, I’ll make you regret it.”

“Oh, and how exactly would you do that?” Brendan teased. “I’ve always been a lot stronger than you, but now…”

“You have your weaknesses,” she said smugly.

Brendan slid his hands from her shoulders to cup her breasts. “I do. But so do you.” He leant down to kiss the side of her neck. “For instance, right now I could…”

Carrie trembled slightly as he traced the curve of her throat with his tongue. “What?” Why did the thought of his fangs against her skin excite her so much?

In answer, Brendan parted his lips, revealing the elongated teeth. “Well, you remember what I said about a vampire’s venom?”

A slight shiver ran down Carrie’s spine. “It paralyses…”

“Yeah.” His breath stirred her hair when he spoke, and his fangs dented her skin, a hairsbreadth from penetration.

“You wouldn’t.” Carrie trailed her fingers slowly down his chest to flutter suggestively against the button that held his jeans shut over an unmissable erection.

Brendan leant back from her neck, breathing a wistful sigh. “I might,” he said, “if you don’t stop almost getting yourself killed. I might just do it and lock you away somewhere where I can keep you safe.” He shifted away from her a little even as he spoke, allowing her enough room to slip her fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans. She pushed the button through its hole, freeing his erection to rise from the parted fabric. “But for now,” he said as her hand closed around his cock, “I guess you’ll be safe enough in my arms.” He pulled her against him, reaching around her waist to cup her buttocks.

“I only ever wanted to be here, to feel you holding me,” Carrie said. “That’s why I did those things.”

He pressed his lips against hers in answer, his lashes brushing her cheek as softly as a summer breeze. There was no roughness to his motions, no sense of underlying ferocity, no indication he could, or would, ever take someone’s life. No indication, other than the coolness of his skin, that he wasn’t the same man she’d agreed to marry.

“Brendan…” She’d managed to get him halfway out of his jeans by now, but for just a moment, she only wanted to wrap her arms around him. “I love you,” she said, embracing him and pressing her face against his shoulder. Tendrils of his hair brushed her forehead.

“I love you, too,” he said. His arms were still around her, and though he made no motion to do anything other than hold her, the evidence of his desire to do more rose tall and hard between them, trapped between their bodies. He groaned when she shifted slightly against him, seeking a more comfortable position, but made no move to initiate the inevitable.

“How will we do this?” she eventually asked, reaching below to caress him. Her back ached constantly now, warning her against anything that might involve lying on it.

Brendan sighed and tipped his head backwards, letting his hair tumble over the top of the couch cushion. “Just like this.”

A shiver of anticipation raced down Carrie’s spine at Brendan’s suggestion and the sight of his full lips parting to speak. Idly, he traced his tongue along the inside of his lower lip. She was already straddling him as he reclined on the couch, and his erection was already pressing against her from below. The only thing that stood between them was clothing—mostly hers. She began to shed it slowly as he watched, something he’d asked her to do more times than she could count before they’d lost each other.

His tongue appeared again as he traced the edge of his lip once more. She leant forward and touched it with her own as she let her shirt flutter to the floor. He responded at once, pushing his tongue past her parted lips and sliding it over hers. She pulled away just enough to catch his lower lip between her teeth, biting before she released it. He sighed, and as he tried to kiss her again, she rose from his lap so she could shed her jeans and bra.

He reached out to lend a helping hand when she was down to her panties, tucking his fingertips into the edge of the soft, pink lace she’d worn especially for him—he’d told her the colour looked good on her once, nearly two years ago. She let him pull the delicate material over her hips, watching him come off the couch to kneel before her as he bared her. He closed his eyes and slowly pressed a kiss just below her navel as he peeled the lace over her knees then off altogether as she lifted her feet. When he had cast it aside, he slid his lips slowly along her skin, marking each few centimetres with a kiss. She closed her eyes, too, and let the sensation wash over her for a few moments, sighing. When her knees grew too weak to support her for much longer, she pressed a hand against his forehead, bidding him to stop.

He pulled her onto his lap, parting her legs with his, gripping her buttocks first then sliding his hands down to caress her inner thighs, teasing. She leant forward to plant a light kiss on his lips, and her breasts brushed his chest. Straightening again, she reached below to grasp his cock firmly, guiding him without pause to the slippery cleft between her legs. He was ready. No sooner had she placed him against the opening into her body than he pushed in, sheathing himself completely in one forceful stroke. She gasped and gripped his shoulders for support, suddenly regretting that, in her eagerness, she hadn’t taken off his shirt. His cool skin beneath the fabric soothed her own, which burnt with arousal. She pressed her check against his as he moved rhythmically beneath her, enjoying the coolness of his body for a moment before shifting to nip his earlobe, exhaling slowly as she held it between her teeth.

“Oh, Carrie…”

He started to wrap his arms around her as if to pull her hard against him, but hesitated because of her bandages. Eventually he cupped her buttocks instead, grasping them firmly as she planted a kiss against his neck in the same place he’d bitten her during their first night together. The act brought back the memory of their lovemaking, of a year’s worth of longing and urgency. Some of it still lingered, and she wondered if she would ever have enough of him. He was inside her now, rock-hard and reaching deep, and still she wanted more. She squeezed his shoulders, and he obliged her, making her squirm in his lap. She almost
bit
him
when the first stirrings of orgasm seized her, and he drove her quickly to climax with several hard thrusts from below. Instead of biting, she tossed back her head and cried out, her tight grip on his shoulders the only thing that kept her from collapsing and perhaps toppling off his lap.

 
He eased his pace, pushing himself into her with deliberate slowness. She was torn between the desire to savour every second of this treatment and asking him to move more quickly. Sensations swirled within her again, spiralling towards a second orgasm with each agonisingly delightful stroke. If he didn’t indulge her soon, she might explode. But then, she might very well do the same if he
did
. So she clung to his shoulders, gripping him tightly inside her and panting. When he began to increase his speed, she cried out as spasms of ecstasy swept through her. Brendan joined her, gasping then moaning as he finally reached his own climax, finishing with an intensity that made Carrie shudder, her chest heaving as she clung to him for support.

A little while later she lay in bed, exhausted and satisfied enough to let Brendan bid her goodbye. He paused to kiss her one last time before he slipped out of the door and into the night, gone from lover to hunter in the blink of an eye. As she rested, an intense sensation blossomed suddenly in her core and was gone as quickly as it had come—a ghost of the pleasure he’d created as he’d made love to her. It haunted her all night, causing her to sigh in her sleep, tossing and turning as she relived his touch.

Chapter Four

The next morning had scarcely dawned by the time Carrie’s alarm clock went off, jarring her from a dream of being wrapped in Brendan’s arms. The fantasy lingered as she silenced the buzzer and swung her feet out of bed, feeling lonely. She had got her nights with Brendan back, but when would she wake up beside him again? She longed for his body to be denting the mattress, his arm draped over her side, his hand resting between her breasts. She stretched, as if she could shake off the melancholy yearning by doing so, and the wound across her back throbbed in protest. She winced. What was it the nurse had told her? To take a prescription-strength dose of ibuprofen? She thought she had some in her medicine cabinet. With this in mind, she shuffled towards the bathroom.

The medicine was there. She read the side of the bottle and shook out double the recommended dose into her palm—that was how the nurse had said to do it. Cupping her hand beneath the faucet, she gathered enough water with which to swallow the pills. With that done, there was nothing to do but get ready for work. Her stomach sank down to her toes at the thought—she wanted to spend the day with Brendan. Seized by impulse and a particularly nasty throb of her wound, she returned to her room and picked up her cell phone from the bedside table.

“Carrie?”

Brendan’s voice coming from the other end of the line made her core flutter again, the sensation brief but strong as if his cock were deep inside her once more.

“Yeah, it’s me,” she said. “I’m coming to see you.” Brendan began to protest, but she cut him off. “I know you can’t travel by day, so I’m coming to you. Don’t worry—I have that stun gun I bought yesterday. I’ll be careful.”

“Carrie, you can’t.” This time it was he who interrupted her protest. “I’m not at the warehouse. I’m spending the day somewhere else, to throw her off my trail.”

 
There was no need to explain ‘her’. Carrie’s stomach contracted at the sound of the simple pronoun.

“I’m going to try to sleep somewhere different every day,” he continued.

A sudden suspicion crept over Carrie. “Brendan, you’re not just saying that to keep me from coming to you, are you?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He sounded annoyed now.

“Okay, then tell me where you’re staying now.”

She could almost
hear
him frown over the phone line.

“No,” he said after several moments’ pause. “Stay home. I won’t endanger you unnecessarily by telling you where I am. I don’t know whether I’ve thrown her off my trail or not. She might have spotted me while I was out hunting or travelling—she could know where I am.”

This idea did nothing to deter Carrie but rather sent her heart racing, as if it were urging her to run to him, to claim him before
she
could find him. “Brendan, I
have
to see you. I just have to.”

“Sorry, Carrie. I’ll come to the apartment tonight, if I can.”

“If you can? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If I don’t see her…if there’s no sign of her…I’ll come visit you.”

Carrie gripped the phone so tightly she was afraid she might snap it in half. “No, Brendan! That’s not good enough! I don’t want… I don’t want to have to go skulking around just to be with you because of
her
.”

His reply was just as stubborn as the last. She punched a button angrily, ending the conversation. Reluctantly, she dialled, beginning a different call.

“Hello, Anne? It’s me, Carrie. I’m really sorry, but I can’t come in to work today. I fell last night and had to get quite a few stitches. I’m really not feeling well.” That much was true, she thought, although her ill mood had more to do with Brendan’s stubbornness than her back. “Yeah, I’m sorry, Anne. Okay. See you then.”

With her cell phone shoved deep into her pocket, she seized her jacket from her closet, shoved her arms hastily through the sleeves, stuffed a few items into the pockets and stormed for the door. Brendan might have lied to her in one of his bull-headed attempts to protect her. He might be spending the day at the warehouse. Or not. Either way, she was going to find out for herself.

She made her way towards Brendan’s seedy building on foot, as usual, keeping her hand tucked into the pocket where she carried her stun gun just in case. She didn’t see anyone else for a couple of blocks, until she rounded the corner and stepped into the alley between Brendan’s building and the equally sad structure that stood beside it.

The person she found there wasn’t another thug, as she’d feared when she first caught a glimpse of a human figure. It was a woman, strangely attired. She wore a white dress that reached the ground, simply cut, long-sleeved and high-necked. The garment covered everything save for her face and her hands, on which she wore matching white gloves, but it clung to her every generous curve to the point of being rendered immodest despite its coverage. Blonde, spiral curls peeked out from beneath a wide-brimmed hat, and she carried an umbrella, holding it so it shaded her face from the morning sunlight. The woman turned to face her just as Carrie stepped into the alleyway, staring at her from behind the lenses of oversized sunglasses.