42nd & Lex (33 page)

Mark didn’t hear anything. He was going to
have to go in. He tugged his gloves back on and stepped inside suite. He felt
for the “Do Not Disturb.” sign and placed it outside before shutting and double
locking the door. The lights were on as he walked into the main sitting room. “Serge?”
he called out again. 

The curtains were blowing in front of the
open terrace door. It had been relatively sunny today so it wouldn’t make sense
for Serge to have been outside. Another whiff of blood came in on the wind. There
was no blood inside from what he could tell. Mark pulled the curtains back and
froze in horror of what he saw. Serge was sprawled across one of the patio
chairs. A puddle of dried blood surrounded the drain underneath him.

“Holy shit,” Mark gasped. “What the hell
happened?”

“That fucking bastard Lucan O’Reilly
happened,” Serge snapped. The wound on his throat was open again, leaking blood
at what should have been a fatal rate and making his speech garbled.   

“He ripped off your hand,” Mark said, mostly
to himself, in disbelief.

“Yes, you idiot, he ripped off my fucking
hand,” Serge snapped again. This time he held his left hand to his throat to
close off the wound. “And, if you haven’t noticed, he’s gouged out my eyes.” Serge
pointed at his face with the stump of his right hand.  

Mark didn’t know what to say or do. He
really just wanted to puke from the sight of it. He looked around for this
missing hand and eyes. Maybe he could reattach the pieces somehow. “Uh, so,
what can I do?” Mark asked.

“Help me inside. I’ve been out here all day
and I’m so drained from the fucking sun and blood loss that I can’t move. Not
to mention I can’t see, you stupid shit.”

“Listen, asshole,” Mark barked back. “I’m
not just saying this because you can’t do anything to me right now, but you
need to back the fuck off. I'm not your whipping boy. I
will
leave you
here to rot.”

Serge conceded. Mark had a point. He was
going to be completely helpless for a few weeks until he healed and would need
Mark’s help in getting blood to regenerate. He would have been fine after his
afternoon snack except the wound on his throat had leaked most of that onto the
terrace floor. “I’m sorry Ainsworth. I’m just really on edge right now. You can
understand that, right?” He paused for effect. “Please help me inside.”

Mark didn’t believe a word of it but picked
Serge up anyways and took him inside least some Peeping Tom with a telescope
see the bloody body sprawled on his terrace. That would be harder to explain
than a missing maid. Mark laid Serge on the bed and got some towels to staunch
the last of the bleeding. At least Lucan had left Serge over the drain so there
wasn’t much blood to clean up outside. Mark sat down at the writing desk to
think. 

This day had to be one of the all time
worst: losing in court, Sarah hating him, and now Serge. Mark scrubbed his face
with his hands and reached for the letter he’d written Sarah that morning on
the desk. It was gone.

“Did you take a letter I had here?” Mark
asked.

“No. I came back this afternoon from the
park and took a shower. I was on my way to work when O’Reilly ambushed me and
kicked my ass. I’ve been laid out on the terrace ever since. Never mind why you
think I’d take a fucking letter. Do I look like the fucking postman?”

Mark believed him. He was too far gone to
lie about something as trivial as a letter. The maid must have taken it. After all,
it had been sitting there all addressed, stamped, and ready to go. She was probably
just trying to be nice after walking in on him this morning. 

When I come to again I’m on the couch and Zaid
and Lucan are pacing the floor behind me like a couple of expectant fathers in
a maternity ward. Lucan stops pacing when he hears by mental chatter and is by
my side as I struggle to sit up.  

“I doubt I will ever be in a maternity ward,
but I was anxious to make sure you’re all right,” he whispers, kissing my
forehead. I am glad he feels able to be close to me again.

“You better be glad I'm fast. I caught you
before you bashed your head on that marble floor over there,” Zaid says, coming
to stand next to Lucan. “I didn’t mean to gross you out, but it was a sure fire
way to keep him home and inactive for a few days.”

“Lucan, I never fainted once before meeting
you and that makes like three times now.”

“Sorry, love,” he apologizes. I scoot over
giving him room to sit next to me.

“Thanks for catching me Zaid. I’ve had
enough head bashing to last me for a while. Say, how come you don’t amp me when
you touch me? Not that I'm complaining, but I thought it was some kind of automatic
response for you guys?”

“Good question, Mitra,” Zaid says. “It is an
automatic response, but it can be controlled or blocked. It’s how we keep
others from stealing what’s ours, if you want to put it in caveman terms. Another
vampire won’t be able to amp you into submission because you belong to Lucan.”

“Oh lord, here comes a
Finding Nemo
flashback,” Lucan groans next to me. I toss a couch pillow at his head. “An-ane-anemone…”
he pretends to stutter from behind the pillow. 

“So I’m immune to other people’s amps
because we’re Sodali? How is that fair that Lucan can still shock the crap out
of me?” I huff. Zaid turns his focus from me to give Lucan a concerned look. Obviously,
he’s never seen
Finding Nemo
. “And what is it with all this bonding and
power sharing stuff with you guys?”

“Cruel joke of the gods?” Zaid offers with a
shrug. “No one knows how or why, but at least Serge can’t amp you, right.”

“True. He did the first night we met, when
he helped me out of the car, but not in my apartment. I guess it’s because we’d
already moved to the second round of the trifecta by then.”

Lucan stops laughing. 

“Oh please! Zaid is how old? Like he hasn’t
already figured out we’ve done it?” I give Lucan a ‘get real’ look. 

“She’s got a point there, mate. I have been
around the block a time or two. I’ve never heard it called a trifecta though,”
he smiles wryly. “You should enjoy it now. Later, after the—” Zaid lets his
words fall away. “Sorry, phone call.” He takes his phone from his pocket and leaves
the room.

“What does he mean enjoy it now? Does it
change after the ceremony or something?”

Lucan shrugs and plants a kiss on my neck. “I
hope not.”

Zaid is back before Lucan can go any further.
“Well, it seems Amelia is hungry and tired of waiting on me. So if everything
is all right here, I think I will leave you two and go take care of my starving
wife.”

“We are fine now brother, thank you. I will
see you tomorrow,” Lucan says. “We can work on our report to the Council and
I’ll take you to that pizza joint in Brooklyn.”

Zaid nods and makes his exit, thundering
down the stairs the same way he came in. 

“So what do you want to do tonight?” I ask.

“I think I’d like to just take a shower and go
to bed, if you don’t mind.” Lucan rises from the couch. “It’s been a rather trying
day.”

“Agreed.”

Lucan motions for me to follow him to the
bathroom. “Are you sure? I mean my foot may still be bleeding a little. It was
a pretty nasty cut.”

“I'm fine now. I won’t hurt you. Even if it
bleeds, I will be okay,” he assures me. He turns toward the bathroom again, taking
off his sweater and undershirt as he goes. He flicks the stereo on as he passes
the console. The Sweet Remains’
Dance with Me
fills the air.  

Now I have no choice but to follow him. Lucan
is filling the tub and lighting a few candles in nothing but his jeans. They
hang low on his hips and I want to bite that sexy, muscular ‘V’ peaking out
above his waistband. Dear God, I think he’s going commando. “I thought you
wanted to take a shower?” I ask, unabashed by my thoughts.

“This is better.” The overhead lights are
off but the lights on the spire outside cast a pale glow about the room. “Allow
me.”

Lucan walks behind me and lifts the edges of
my shirt to pull it over my head. I raise my arms in response as his fingers
skim the tender flesh of my sides. The goose bumps rising on my skin have
nothing to do with amps or cold air. I am electrified by his touch. He kisses
my shoulder, leaving a little tingle behind, and unclasps my bra. I lean back
against his solid body, trying not to think of the violence he committed with
it earlier that day. “Shh,” he whispers, sliding my bra down my arms and to the
floor. “Don’t think about it. Just know that I will never do anything like that
again unless it is to protect you. Never.”

Shutting the mental door on those thoughts,
I turn around to face Lucan. My left hand traces the tattoo on his bicep while
the right reaches for the button of his jeans. I tug at the fabric to slide it
over the button. Lucan gives a languid swivel of his hips against mine and the tension
pops the button free. My fingers move down to the zipper and he leans just far
enough away from me to counter my force so that the zipper gives away as well. Another
subtle shift of his body against mine and the jeans falls to the floor. I am
correct; he is going commando.

“Come.” His voice is husky and low. He steps
into the tub and holds his hand out to me.

I make quick work of my pants and underwear,
leaving them in a pile on the floor, and take Lucan’s hand. I am craving his
touch after the intensity of this day. We are safe from the amps in the water
and I take the opportunity to wrap my body around his. The stereo switches
songs and I recognize
Kiss Me
by Ed Sheeran as it begins.

Lucan dips his head down and starts to kiss
from my neck to my shoulder and back again. I gasp but not from fear. “Please,”
I say, not really knowing what I’m asking for.

I run my hands down his back. He moves down
to take my nipple in his mouth and I feel his fangs graze the sensitive skin. I
am squirming against him now. I push him down to the wide step that runs around
the tub and straddle his lap before offering him my breasts again.

After a few minutes of grazing fangs and his
strong hands kneading my ass, I can’t take it anymore. I place his hands of the
edge of the tub and hold him in place with my own. I could never hope to
restrain him but he allows me this measure of control. It’s my turn to run my
tongue over his nipples and nip at his chest. His body stiffens under me and he
gaps; this is obviously a new experience for him. I run my tongue up his chest,
to his collarbone, and then his neck. He groans as I rake my teeth across the
sensitive flesh of his jaw. He’s barely able to keep still at this point and I
release his hands as he captures my mouth with his.

He enters me and I throw my head back in
ecstasy, every doubt and fear from earlier today erases itself from my mind. I
can feel the tension leaving my body. It’s replaced by an absolute certainty
that I am where I should be. Several songs later, we lean against the cool
marble of the tub in sated relief. The glass is fogged a little around the
edges and the automatic faucet has kicked on again and is quietly replenishing
what we’ve sloshed out onto the floor. I’m so blissed I can hardly remember why
I was stressed out this evening.   

“I love you Lucan, know that.”

“I love you too, Abri. Always.”

“Can you ‘effing believe this Abri?” Sarah is
shouting into the phone. “What the hell is wrong with him?”

My morning had started out so nice: there
had been coffee and a pastry with Lucan, reading the paper before I headed down
the elevator to work, Max ready with today’s files and more coffee. But now
Sarah’s call sends my day in a completely different direction. Mark has decided
to let the vampire bat out of the bag and throw me under the bus in the
process. 

“So how did the letter come to you?” I ask.

“Just in the regular mail. It was on
stationary from the Essex House where he’s staying. At least I know he didn’t
lie about
that
to the judge. It looks like he mailed it the day of the
hearing, probably after I refused to listen to him.”

“Well, it sounds like he’s just desperate
for you to listen to him and he’s trying any crazy thing he can think of to get
your attention. You haven’t called him about it have you?” I hope there is no
panic or undue concern detectable in my voice. In any other circumstance, this
wouldn’t even be enough to warrant a call to my opposing counsel. Divorcing
parties and hastily thought out letters of apology go hand in hand. Unfortunately,
this was not a typical case or a typical letter.

“No, I decided to call you first. I had half
a mind to go over to that hotel and let them know they have a crazy person
living there that thinks he’s a vampire half-breed, but I figured that would
just get me arrested for being a nut.”

“Good choice. I doubt they would believe you
anyways.”

“What do you mean you
doubt
they
would believe me, Abri? It’s completely ludicrous.There is no way anyone would
believe me.” She is silent for a few seconds. “Right?”

I open my mouth but nothing comes out. I
hate to lie to Sarah but this is so not something I want to explain to her. Now
I’ve gone and possibly hinted at something after she just read me the closing
line of Mark’s letter: “
Ask your attorney. She knows.”

“Right, Abri?” she repeats. “He says to ask
you, that you know. And now you’re saying you doubt anyone would believe me,
like you know something. Please tell me it’s crazy.”

“It’s crazy Sarah,” I reply without hesitation
because that part is at least true. “It’s crazy and he’s crazy. He’s just
trying to get to you. Can you fax me a copy of the letter?”

I am texting Lucan as I talk, asking him to
come to my office stat. He and Zaid are just upstairs working on their investigation.