Scorched (35 page)

Caravelli gave a smile calculated to turn even a demon’s blood to ice. “Everything, but I have no intention of choosing her lovers. She’s a woman, not a child. Nevertheless, I’m here to help her, and I’ll break your neck if you hurt her. I am her kin now.”

The warning hung like smoke in the air. Mac bared his teeth.
In-laws. Great
. “I want to see her. Now.”

With a half smile, Caravelli stepped back and made a graceful sweep with his arm. “She’s in one of the guest rooms upstairs. Follow me.”

He did, his bouquet in hand. They passed through the messy kitchen—Mac remembered once cooking a meal for Holly there—and crossed to the large curved stairway that wound to the upper floors.

Caravelli turned. “You understand she was not a true vampire before.”

“Yes.”
But I’m not sure what you’re getting at
.

“Good.” Caravelli started up the oak steps, his feet noiseless on the patterned runner that carpeted the stairs.

They passed the second floor, going all the way up to the third. A stained glass window looked out from the landing, the colors dark against the night sky beyond. They walked down the hall, dark wainscoting emphasizing the gloom. The only light was the faint glow from a couple of wall sconces made to look like candles. Everything in the old house looked straight out of a Victorian novel, down to a landscape painting of what looked to Mac like hairy cows standing in a marsh.

It was a long hallway and most of the heavy paneled doors were shut, adding to the claustrophobic feel. Mac wanted to bolt for bright lights and freedom. “It’s kind of dark.”

Caravelli gave him an amused glance. “New vampires are particularly sensitive to noise and light. It was more comfortable for her to rest up here, where there’s little commotion.”

They stopped at the end of the hallway. Alessandro tapped lightly on the last door to the left. After a moment, it opened and Holly stepped out. “Hi.”

She had a notebook under her arm. Studying again, Mac supposed. He looked past her, catching a glimpse of more wainscoting and pale flowered wallpaper. There was a bed in the room, covered with a white spread. Connie sat on the edge, her back to the doorway.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“Not bad, I guess.” Holly smiled at Mac. “I’m glad you came. The flowers are a nice touch.”

“The least I can do.”

Holly turned to her lover. “Look, I’m going up to the hospital. They’re going to be releasing Ashe tomorrow, and I want to make sure she has everything she needs. She insists on staying at the motel.”

Much to everyone’s relief, I’ll bet.
Still, Mac was glad to hear she was recovering.

Caravelli ran the back of his fingers down Holly’s arm. “So she’s capable of common sense, at least.”

Holly made a resigned face and headed for the stairs.

Caravelli followed. “If you need me, I’ll be in the living room.”

“Sure,” said Mac. He had flowers, a car, and the vampire dad’s permission. For a demon, he felt very teenaged all of a sudden. He walked into the bedroom.

Warm, dry air tickled his throat. The old, ornate radiator must have been cranked on high. The overhead light was off, only a couple of hobnail glass lamps switched on low. Constance turned, and Mac nearly dropped the bouquet. He could just see her profile, the long, dark hair tucked behind one ear, but it was enough to see how much she had changed. She had been pale before, but now the luminous pallor of the Undead showed off her dramatic coloring.

“Hello,” he said.

Her beauty reminded Mac of the diamonds of ice that sparkled from the crust of hard, northern snow.
From Snow White to the Snow Queen
. Here was a whole new challenge. He felt his skin growing hot with arousal.

“Mac.” She rose, and turned to face him.

She wore a dark sweater and broomstick skirt, probably Holly’s. Mac looked into her eyes. They were still blue, but now they held an unsettling silvery cast. Vampire eyes were like that, flashing silver or gold as the light caught them. The only thing human about her was her expression. It was filled with guilt.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I thought I could hold myself back.”

Mac handed her the flowers. She cradled them, like one would a baby, bending her head to sniff the blooms. Her hair fell, hiding her face.

“It’s all right,” he replied. “I’m sorry, too.”

She set the flowers aside on the top of an antique dresser. They looked at each other for a long moment, not sure what to say.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

The skin around her eyes contracted. “Hungry. Always hungry. Alessandro says it gets much easier in time.”

God, she’s so beautiful
. His palms were starting to sweat. “First dates are always kind of awkward. If you survive that one, the next is always better.”

She gave a slight smile. Her fangs were more pronounced than before, but still slender. Feminine. Lowering her lashes, she tilted her face to the side. Then something in her face changed, a new emotion spreading over her features like a drop of ink bleeding through water.

It was anger.

“You promised you would keep me from hurting someone. You said everything would be all right.” Her voice was hoarse, and he heard grief in it.

The words speared him so hard, his chest actually hurt. “I know I did, Connie. I know.”

He clenched his fists, wishing guilt was something he could wrestle with, use his huge strength to crush. “I screwed up. I’m so sorry. I didn’t understand the risk we were taking. I don’t know as much about vampires as I thought I did. And that cost you.”

“You were supposed to protect me.” She covered her mouth with her hand, as if to stop herself from saying anything more.

The sight of that gesture was painful, because he understood. Gently, slowly, Mac took her hand in his, moving it away from her face. “Speak out if you want to. I deserve that anger.”

She hiccupped, swallowing down unshed tears. Her mouth twitched, fighting to keep from crumpling. “What would you have me do? Swear at you? Tear out your eyes?”

“You have that right.”

She turned her face away, obviously embarrassed, but he took her shoulders, turning her body to face his. He lifted her chin until she looked at him. “I’d draw the line at the clawing out the eyes thing, but if it’ll help you forgive me, you can do the rest. I’m not your lord and master. Go ahead and kick my ass if it needs it. You’re a vamp now. You could make it hurt.”

She almost laughed, but it came out in another hiccup. “You really didn’t know what would happen?” she asked in a small voice.

“Not like that. I made a mistake. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

She seemed to deflate, all the anger leaking away.

“Forgive you?” She looked up at him, her silvery blue eyes wild with sorrow. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d stayed away.... I’ve become a true monster.”

He drew her nearer. Perfectly still, she stayed coiled and tense as he put his hands on her shoulders. “You’re mine,” he said simply. “As in the woman I adore. I’m not going anywhere, if you’ll have me.”

As if the weight of his hands was too much, she sank onto the edge of the bed, never taking her eyes from his face. Mac sat down next to her. The old double mattress sagged under his weight.

“I’m cold all the time now,” she said, hugging herself. “Worse than before. I feel like I’ve been back in my grave.”

He put his arm around her, holding her close, wrapping her in his demon heat. She burrowed her face against his chest as if she could somehow merge their bodies.

“It’s not enough,” she said.

He pulled off his sports jacket and folded it around her, the heavy wool engulfing her tiny frame. She shivered in his arms, winding her arms around his neck. “I want to lie with you. I want you, Mac. It’s as bad as the hunger.”

“Um, no red-blooded man says no, but this isn’t our house.”

“I don’t care,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. “It’s the only thing that’s going to make me warm.”

Putting words to actions, she shrugged off the jacket and pulled away from him, dragging the long-sleeved sweater over her head. Her hair swished around her shoulders, draping over the lacey mounds of her bra. She still wore the same one Mac had bought for her. That he had wanted so much to see her in last night.
Oh, yeah
.

Forget better judgment. He pulled off his turtleneck and pulled her down on the bed to lie against his chest, cradling her against him. She smelled of fancy soap—something fruity.

For a moment, Connie lay quiet. He let his hands wander up her back, feeling the delicate ridges of her backbone, her ribs, the dip in the small of her back. Her hair fell like a dark cloak around them, silky and private. She kissed his jaw, her soft lips working against the harsh stubble of his chin. Aroused, Mac felt his body temperature spike again, his skin starting to prickle.

“That feels so good,” she murmured, rubbing against him like a cat.

Cupping her breasts, he stroked her nipples, watching her eyes flutter closed, her lips part. He raised her perfect pink tips to a hard peak, watching them press against the fabric of her bra. As she hauled in a breath, rearing up, he bent his head to suckle her through the lace, the roughness adding an extra sensation for his tongue.

He tasted her cool skin, buried himself in it, breathed it in like incense. Her hands raked through his hair, the razor sharpness of her nails alerting every nerve down his spine. Turning, he gave the other breast equal treatment, working until he heard a ragged gasp of pleasure.

Sliding down his body, Connie sought his mouth, drawing in his tongue, teasing his lips with her teeth.
She’s changed
, he thought. More than her physical form had altered. Inhibitions had been stripped away, the ability to find and give pleasure brought to the fore.

Of course, that was how a vampire hunted. It ran in the blood Caravelli had fed her, part of the necessary DNA of the species. That was fine with Mac. No complaints on his end. Until she bit him, fangs sinking deep into the heavy muscle of his neck.

The white-hot sensation ripped through his body. He felt his own hot blood guttering in the hollow of his collarbone, the pressure as she bit even deeper, her fangs slicing into flesh.

He was about to throw her off when he felt the cold tingle of venom, spreading like an ice cloud through his veins.
Oh, Lord
. The freezing sensation numbed him for a moment, extinguished the pain, then turned to a balmy warmth as it reached his belly.

“You’re hot and spicy,” she said, her pupils dilated to pools of black. “You make me warm inside.”

She licked his chest, dragging her tongue over the swell of muscle, circling his nipple with butterfly flicks of her tongue.

He was lost. Euphoria rose like a tide, sexual desire flooding him with life-and-death urgency. Connie’s hands were all over him, his all over her, clothes disappearing, his only objective to bury himself inside her.

Mac was harder than he’d ever been in his life. On fire. He thrust inside her, spearing her flesh as she had his. Her hips rose to meet him, a moan of pleasure escaping her. She was more than ready, slick and welcoming. Her legs hooked around him, holding him tight.

Mac’s head swam, the conscious part of his brain buried in animal sensation. The venom drove him, burning through his demon-hot veins like whisky. He pushed harder and harder, plunging and withdrawing, sparing nothing. He was created for only one thing: the here and now. Possession.

Connie came first, the orgasm tearing a throaty cry from her. Her body clenched, pulsing around him, milking him. Her nails shredded his back, writing her claim into his skin. He hissed through his teeth. The feel of her digging in wound through him, a bloody thread piercing his wild desire. The sting of it brought him, a hard, convulsive explosion. Hot and wet, he poured into her, spending himself until he was nothing but a mindless shell.

He collapsed on his side, as exhausted as if his battery pack had suddenly been ripped out. Connie curled against him, hooking a leg over his hip. He was aware of her there, but he was somewhere outside of his body, perhaps a stunned dust mote in the Milky Way.

Wow
.

The venom rambled through his body, turning what was left of his mind to boiled spaghetti. Or maybe that was his limbs.

“Mac?” Connie whispered.

“Mm?”

He felt her hand, cool and soft, on his cheek. “I didn’t take much blood. It’s not really food for me. But it was exciting.”

This was a conversation he needed to be awake for. He forced his eyes open and took a deep breath. It forced back the venom haze a notch.

“I didn’t know demons could be rolled by a vampire bite.” He sounded drunk.

“It won’t last,” she said, her voice thick with apology. “It won’t addict you. Alessandro said so.”

“Forgive me.”

“Hey, that was pretty fine,” he managed a crooked smile.

“It’s all right?”

“Oh, yeah.”

She blinked hard, her eyes filling with pinkish tears. “I can’t help myself. Something takes over. . . .”

“Hey. Hey.” Mac raised himself on one elbow, drawing her to him. “You couldn’t help it. You’re just a newbie. Every vampire has to learn control. That’s just the way it is.”

“I could hurt someone when I bite. I
did
hurt someone, and yet I still want it so much. I didn’t think it would be like this. So out of control.”

He kissed her, remembering the terror of his own first days with Geneva. The memory made him hug Connie tighter. “Hey, with me, just let yourself go and enjoy it. We’re consenting adults, demon and vamp. You can’t really hurt me. No harm, no foul.”