Blacker than Black (41 page)

“I’ll take him to the other room, Black,” Jhez murmurs, gaze flickering up to meet mine for only the briefest of moments before her eyes dart off to some point across the room. “He can sleep it off in the bed.”

Blue continues humming that eerie melody, but stands up and moves across the room with her. We’ve done this with him before, but it’s been a very long time since he reacted so strongly. Withdrawn so deeply.

It’ll be at least eight hours before he pulls himself back together.

I need to walk, get some distance. It’s too much for me to process, with the immediacy of Blue’s proximity, the tense
lyche
, the realizations of earlier this afternoon compounded by the information divulged. Confident that Jhez will be more than able to handle Blue, I head for the door. Getting lost in
Dragulhaven’s
labyrinthine hallways might actually do me a bit of good.

Time and solitude to think, absorb, process. Accept, if nothing else. That Garthelle used me, used us both. That the possibility is strong that all the emotion, the shifting aural hues and cues, were lies. He’s
lyche,
after all. They’re the masters of emotional deception. He said it himself, he pulled us off the streets to safeguard us. Not sure I can take that at face value, not when his greatest concern in all of this is rescuing his childhood friend. Our sire. We’re nothing but a tool for him to use toward that goal. Hold what the puppet master wants, dangle it just out of reach, lure him out into the open so you can cut him off at the knees and rescue Noire.

The one who abandoned us decades ago.

I’d like to think our aunt’s motivation was less selfish or ulterior in this whole train wreck. But that’s not something Jhez and I can determine any longer.

All the other
lyche
are gone. The halls are quiet, the energy of the place still, almost lifeless. It has an eerie feel without them present. Silence, heavy and solid. As though the place is an anchor, or an immortal observer with no concern for the drama that plays out within its boundaries. Just stands witness.

I stumble upon the sunroom I recall from my first day at
Dragulhaven
. The morning we found Soiphe Noire. I walk along the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, running my hand over the broad leaves of greenery, feeling the radiant heat of the sun seep into my skin, and take a deep breath. It calms me, the small haven of fresh air and living things, the peace that permeates the room. I settle into one of the chairs giving a view of the courtyard outside and watch the gusts of wind pull at the branches of trees showing the first flush of autumn.

I’m not sure what to think, don’t want to think anymore. Need a break from it for a little while, and this spot gives me the stillness to clear my mind. To center myself, grounding my energy. I can almost see the whorls, the rhythm of my aura slow and fade from the loud, sharp colors of distress and unrest to the familiar hues of normalcy.

The sensation of tension and stress bleeding from me is a relief on many levels.

Until I feel a pulse against my aura, and look up to discover the Monsieur of York standing in the entry. Shoulder against the jamb, much as before.

“May I join you?”

I nod. It’s his castle, after all. Not even sure why he’s bothering to ask.

He steps into the room and approaches slowly, hands in his pockets, aura drawn in tight. It’s nothing more than a blur of golden luminescence hugging his figure out of the corner of my eye as I look back out at the trees.

“I had every intention of explaining the whole of the situation to both of you before your aunt turned up dead.” He stops a few feet away, standing close but not sitting down on the bench even though there’s plenty of space.

“Why did that change things, Monsieur?” A murder of ravens takes wing from the grove of ancient oaks and blurs across the sunset like an ink blot. “It didn’t have to.”

“Black.”

Obviously he wants me to look at him. Not sure I want to, but he’s making no attempt to influence me by reaching out with his aura or cranking my dials. So I shift my gaze, take in his posture. Calm, open, a distinct lack of the nonverbal aggression from earlier.

“She and I shared
leali.
It’s not a bond I’ve extended to very many. Your sire was one, once. Decades ago. Soiphe was the only other remaining alive.” There’s tension in the hunch of his shoulders, and he holds his head canted down and to the side, watching me from the corner of his eye, not focusing the full force of his gaze in my direction.

I motion to the empty space on the bench and take a deep breath. “Sit down please, Leonard?”

I can’t stay angry at him. It must’ve been difficult to know friend from foe with his closest ally lying lifeless beneath his roof. Despoiled sanctuary, a direct affront to his position and power within the
lyche
community.

He pulls his hands free of his trousers and does as I ask, bracing his forearms on his knees and staring at his hands. He turns them palm upward, flexes his fingers slowly. As if assessing himself, or looking for something. “It’s a rather helpless feeling, to know someone has willingly sacrificed themselves to preserve another. To know you can’t truly protect what that person died for.” He looks up and meets my gaze. “Control is a fragile lie we spin to make ourselves feel powerful.”

“
Lyche
aren’t the only ones who do that.”

He curls his lips upward, but it’s a feeble expression. It’s not even a grin. “No.”

I hold my hand out between us. Not reaching for him, but an offer to meet him halfway. I let my aura flare around my fingers slightly, extending my energy a little further. It’s not something I do often—and never before have I deliberately done it for anyone but my twin. It takes concentrated effort. Jhez is much better at it than I am.

Leonard looks at my hand. He glances up at me, briefly. Then puts his hand, palm up, beneath mine. Not touching physically. But his aura flares up suddenly, engulfs my hand in a blinding glow of energy halfway up my forearm.

The tingling warmth of familiarity, completion, sends a thrill through me. I can feel his concern, fear, anxiety. There’s another emotion surging through him, though, and the heat of it threads through his energy like veins of gold in rich soil.

He moves, suddenly and without warning. Grabbing my outstretched hand in his, he clamps his free hand on the nape of my neck and leans in to crush his mouth against mine. Thrusting tongue invading easily with the element of surprise, his kiss is wet, hot, demanding. Aura flaring powerfully against mine, swirling around me, the sudden hunger in his energy screams his need. His fingers fist in my hair, pulling me close, knuckles digging into my scalp, and I can’t help but respond to his need, his kiss, with mine.

Angels may fear to tread in the midst of
lyche
, but I’ve always been more prone to a pair of horns than a halo. I can’t deny the depth of my feelings for him. He’s shown me the strength of his loyalties, bared his frailty and weaknesses, the solidity and imperfections that combine to make the beauty of what he is. There is no ugly, mindless, craving-driven beast here—but a person, every bit as human as I am. He’s nothing of what I always believed a vampire to be.

I can hear, feel his ragged breaths as he continues ravaging my mouth, pulling back a fraction to drag his lips over mine, only to attack again and suck my tongue into his mouth. He meets every attempt I make to kiss him back, accepts and then diverts just as quickly. Seeking more than I offer, or simply desiring to dominate, I don’t know. He shifts, releasing my hand to encircle my waist with his arm, hauls me onto his lap, straddling his hips, the tempo of his caressing tongue and lips not missing a beat.

I recall his demeanor, his visage, when Jhez and I left
Dragulhaven
earlier this afternoon. The epitome of an angry
lyche
on the verge of rage. The shift is too profound for me to track, from that to this. I slide my hands over his shoulders, up his neck, to cradle his face. Flex my fingers against his cheeks and pull back gently to study him. To hold his gaze.

His eyes are glazed, hooded. “Need to be inside of you.” His voice is a deep-throated growl.

“Okay.”

“Now.” His arm tightens around me, and he drags his wet, kiss-bruised lips over mine in a slow, teasing caress. “Right here.” Fingers fumbling with the button-fly closures of my jeans.

“Right here?” In the solarium? Gaia, his butler could walk in on us . . . Or Jhez.

“Yeah.” He’s pulling on the waistline one-handed, more determination than frantic, need-driven blindness.

“Leonard.” I tighten my hands on his face.

His hand stills, and he looks up at me slowly. He doesn’t say a word, but his aura flares inside mine, and through the confused muddle of emotions, that vein of gold glows thick and heavy. It thrums in tandem to the strong affections that are my own feelings for him, twines around my emotions, and his eyes flutter, his head falls back, neck arched, as he rolls his hips up against me. “Now.
Please,
” a hoarse, urgent whisper.

Oh, Gaia. I have to blink past the burn in my eyes to get the clasp on his slacks undone. My hands are trembling, and I have no idea why.

There is nothing of the furious urgency I recall from the previous time. Leonard sinks into me and stills, his arms a vice encircling my chest, holding me against him. He trails the tip of his tongue along my lower lip, and I feel him twitch and pulse inside me as he rolls his hips upward in languid, shallow thrusts. I drop my forehead to his shoulder, close my eyes, and just feel, lose myself in it. The stroke of his cheek against mine, the weight of his head resting on mine, tucking my face against his neck. I inhale that unique blend of dragon’s blood, sandalwood. Leather, sweat, and musk.

It’s a slow build to orgasm, and I can tell Leonard wants—needs—it that way, so I don’t fight him. He slides a hand between us, fingers wrapping around my cock, gripping and stroking, offering friction lubricated with my own pre-cum to take me over the edge with him. It lacks the intensity, but the peak, when it hits, rolls on and on, wave after wave, and the prolonged spasms send pain searing through my legs, calf and thigh muscles screaming and cramping. The discomfort only heightens the pleasure, and I sink my teeth into the flesh of Leonard’s neck as he thrusts up into me one final time, his fist tight around me.

Post-coital lassitude has him slumping on the bench, but his arms don’t loosen their hold on me. I lave my tongue over the abused skin, the marks from my teeth prominent, then shift my head slightly on his shoulder, looking at his face.

“Better?”

He cracks his eye open a fraction, rolling his head to the side to meet my gaze. “Much.”

“Okay.”

“For the moment.” He shifts slightly and grunts. “Don’t think I’m letting you wander off again, though.”

“Oh yeah?”

He hums a monotone response and chafes a hand up my spine.

“Did you want me somewhere specific?” I ask, laughing in a breathless gust. Not about to bother moving—I’d probably fall on my ass, between the cramped muscles and lack of tension everywhere else.

Leonard nods and opens his eyes a little further, leering at me. “My bed. Naked. Gloriously naked, sprawled on black silk.” His arm tightens, crushing me closer for a moment, and brushes his lips against my mouth while his aura flares to engulf me completely. “That okay?” When he pulls back, he’s staring at my mouth, and it takes him a few seconds to actually look up at me again.

“One condition.”

“Name it.” He closes his eyes and straightens his head. I study his profile and feel him shift a fraction on the bench again. No hesitation or caution at all.

“Tell me why Soiphe protected me—us—with her life. Jhez and I, we’re bloodline. The way you explain it, that bond is far from enough to warrant that.”

His inhale is slow, measured, and impossibly deep, chest expanding and lifting. “I imagine she had a number of reasons for guarding the knowledge of your whereabouts with her life.” Leonard’s eyes slit open a fraction, and he glances at me. “I guess the most important was the reason I went looking for you in the first place.”

“We’re chi-thieves?”

Just a bark of laughter, more cynicism than humor. “That was just a clue along the trail. I’d lost track of you both—and your mother—during the turmoil of the disclosure. We went looking, started here in my territory, because it’s where you’d lived before. Thought you might stay close to home. Mutts have attributes that manifest in strange ways. People don’t always realize what they’re seeing. Won’t see what they aren’t looking for. That’s how we stumbled upon the story of a strange pair of mentors, seemingly ageless Nightwalkers that defied all the odds. Didn’t take long, didn’t take too many
lyche
interviews, to parse out the pair of you were practicing some sleight of hand. The crime team was just my way of trying to expedite.”

“Fat lot of good it did.”

“Indeed.”

“That doesn’t explain why.”

A heartbeat of silence, reluctance resonating through his aura. “You recall what I told you of Alpha’s presence in my metro.”