Bring Me to Life (10 page)

“But those other wo—” she started to say, and didn’t finish. What about the guys she’d slept with? What about the women he—Ahem, she wasn’t going to think about that.

“What about them? I was looking for another you, and you were trying to forget me. They don’t count,” he said with a shrug.

“This doesn’t magically erase my life since you died,” she said softly and turned around again. At one time she’d have pulled her shirt off right where he’d be able to see her breasts, but that time was far gone. She yanked the tiny tee over her head before she turned back to him. “Don’t you think it’s going to hurt a lot more when you leave if we do all those things?”

His hand curved around the back of her head, and he pulled her body into his. He lowered his head and brushed his mouth along the column of her throat. “Don’t you think it will hurt a lot longer if we don’t find closure?”

Her body shivered at his touch. Damn, did he feel so good to a body sorely in need of real love. “I don’t want closure. I want you.”

He lifted his head so there wasn’t a way to avoid those sinful eyes. “I never stopped,” he murmured and let his mouth drag across her skin again. “No matter how angry I was with you, sunshine. I always loved you.”

Her face crumpled. He swore.

“Everything I do makes you cry, baby,” he whispered against her cheek. “I’m sorry. It never used to be that way.” Then he let her go and moved across the room.

She wiped her eyes with the heels of her palms. “I feel like a leaky faucet.”

“Come on,” he said in that easy cadence she loved so much. “I scored us a car, and I have some friends I’d like you to meet.”

“Friends?” It wouldn’t be so surprising, but in life he didn’t have friends. The only person he had a use for aside from the man who signed his paycheck had been her. “You finally made friends. That’s really good.”

He gave her that nonchalant, I’m-not-going-to-take-the-bait Vincent look. “So sue me. Saving the world isn’t the easiest thing to do without some kind of backup.”

She moistened her bottom lip and rubbed her hands on her jeans. Where these nerves were suddenly coming from, she didn’t know. She should have been more afraid of him when he was Wraith, but now, he was more dangerous. If she let him, he could crush the budding hope growing inside that, maybe, she wasn’t worthless. “And that’s why you came back? To save the world?”

*

“No,” Vincent said. His head cocked to the side as he studied her in that glorious tight outfit. At fifteen, she’d been able to ignite his passion in a hot second. She still did at twenty-five, but it was so much more than wanting to slake a body’s need. He needed to rekindle the connection he had with her.

Maybe he’d come thinking his objective was to save the world, but he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit to an ulterior motive. For the last two hundred years she’d haunted him. He spoke of closure, but he had no use for it. Now he knew why. Nothing would ever be over with Bryna. Being near her once more, being able to take in her scent, and feel her body—the temptation was too much. It didn’t matter she’d end up in Felix’s office when she died because of her ability to pulse. He’d have seen her again in the afterlife. It wouldn’t be the same. It couldn’t. Not if both of them were dead. Bryna brought him life, and now, he needed to find a way to make her feel passion again. His gaze locked on hers. He wouldn’t lie. “I came for you.”

“But you hated me,” she said with a shuddering breath.

He brushed the backs of his knuckles down the side of her face before he made a slow circle around her, drinking in the exquisite sight of his Bryna. The heat of her body kissed his skin. He moved up behind her, his body just touching hers. Immediately his cock hardened, and he wasn’t sure he could hold back the powerful need he had to be inside her. “I couldn’t get you out of my head or my heart, sunshine. I’ve never passed a judgment. I’ve always been carrying too much baggage. They don’t allow any past those pearly gates.”

“What if I can’t be saved?” she whispered. Her body trembled and her breath caught when their bodies whispered against each other.

He looped one arm around her, pressing his wide-palmed hand against the flat of her belly. Her scent enticed him to lower his head and rest his chin on her shoulder. He pushed aside her fiery hair to take a taste of sweet flesh. Her body shivered under his touch. He grinned. “Everyone can be saved, my Bryna. You just have to want it.”

“But I—”

“Shh,” he murmured against her ear and then nipped along the side of her throat. He slipped his other hand around her to cup one of her beautiful breasts. “Your life is mine to save.” He pressed light kisses along the side of her neck. “I will do whatever I have to.” He tugged at her earlobe before he whispered, “You want it.” He lightly dragged his fingers up her arms and cupped her shoulders. “Tell me you want it.”

*

She did, but what she wanted wasn’t the life he tried to offer. Her head tilted involuntarily to allow his mouth better access to her tender spots. He knew each one and how to coax a needful moan from her lips. His hands slid down her arms and then to the hem of her shirt. He dragged the material up over her head and tossed it aside. His skin was warm, and even though his hands were calloused, they felt velvet soft as they ran over the flat of her belly, pulling her back tight up against his front. He kneaded with soft fingertips before they skimmed along her rib cage to mold over her breasts. His thumbs flicked over aroused nipples. He nipped the tender spot just behind her ear.

“Tell me you want me,” he coaxed as he captured her earlobe with his teeth. “Tell me.”

She relaxed against him and let out a soft moan. “I want you.”

His hand slid over her body. Touching, kneading, feeling. God, how she wanted him. She started to turn in his arms, but he stopped her.

“Let me feel you,” he whispered against her ear. His lips trailed over one shoulder, across her back, and then down the other. Both of his hands cupped her breasts as he gently rolled her nipples between his forefingers and thumbs. She pressed her body into his, her hips rhythmically grinding.

He groaned with need. “You’re hot.” He slipped one hand down her belly. “Are you wet?” If she thought her jeans would hinder him, she’d have been wrong.

She should tell him to stop. Neither of them needed this hanging between them, but she was starving for the one thing only he could give her. “Yes,” she whispered. “Need you.”

Her breath caught when he unfastened her jeans. His hand slipped past the denim. She squirmed against him when his fingers dipped into cotton panties. They easily found moist heat. His mouth tempted and teased the sides of her throat, the back of her neck, and her jawline. He held his free hand flat against her belly, pressing her into him as he stroked inside of her, his thumb flicking across her most sensitive place. She sighed and squirmed. Death would be sweet if this was the way she could go, with Vincent making her blind with need.

“Vincent,” she moaned.

“Don’t talk,” he whispered against her ear. He walked them forward until they were right next to one of the queen-size beds. She gripped his forearm to hold her balance. She trembled when he pulled his hand out of her panties and slowly turned her around to face him. He used the back of a knuckle to gently caress the side of her face.

“Need you.” The words came out in a guttural tone. He stepped back from her and dragged off his shirt, letting it join hers on the floor. His eyes moved over her, and then he reached up to lightly touch one of her breasts. “So soft,” he murmured. “Always beautiful.”

She looked up at his scarred face, and her bottom lip began to tremble. She couldn’t do this with him, not when she’d allowed others to touch her. Her eyes went wide, and she was about to push him away.

He touched his lips to hers. “I need you,” he whispered against her mouth.

Thoughts of stopping him vaporized when his head lowered, and the warm heat of his mouth closed over the tight tip of her breast. She needed him just as much. Her back arched. He pressed one hand into the small of her back, holding her exactly the way he wanted her. His mouth slid over her trembling body until she couldn’t remember her name.

He lowered her to the bed, his sienna gaze on hers. He touched his lips to the center of her breasts as he gingerly worked her jeans off. Bryna slid off her panties. He skimmed his fingers down the inside of her thigh. His smoldering gaze met hers, and a smile curved wickedly on his mouth. He casually shucked his pants and then climbed onto the bed between her legs.

He leaned down to let his mouth intoxicate her. She squirmed under him, her hips moving up to meet what he kept just out of reach. He chuckled softly and then looped a powerful arm around her, lifting her hips to the angle he wanted them.

She was expecting a forceful, primal joining. But Vincent was slow and hypnotic in his movements. He sank into her as if he’d always been her perfect fit. Her body clenched tight around him, and then his eyes closed in bliss as a groan rumbled in his chest. He moved inside of her with slow, meaningful strokes. He opened his eyes and kept them locked on hers as his thrusts grew more powerful until she was quaking around him.

“Come for me, my love,” he whispered.

And she did. Her body wound tight and everything threatened to shatter her, and then it did.

*

Vincent groaned with the exquisiteness of the release he’d needed for the last two hundred years. He held himself above her, afraid to move until his vision came back to him. He gave her a lazy grin. Tears were streaming down her face.

Of course. Everything he did made her cry.

He leaned down and kissed her eyelids and then rolled onto his side, hauling her up against him. His arms banded tightly around her, and he lightly nuzzled her collarbone while she sniffled and trembled against him.

“Vincent?”

“Yeah?” He pulled back enough to see her face.

“I”—her voice trailed off, and she tucked her head up under his chin—“needed you.”

“I know,” he murmured softly. He stroked along the length of her hair and shifted so the whole of her body was touching the whole of his. Felix was making a lot of mistakes lately. There wasn’t any force in Heaven or in Hell that was going to take her away from him again. Her life was his responsibility, and he was going to make sure she never only existed again.

* * * *

Bryna woke snuggled into the hard body of a man with the tips of his fingers skimming along her spine. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this rested, and she was afraid to open her eyes, but she cracked one open anyway to make sure she hadn’t been dreaming.

There he was—Vincent, larger than life, only he was dead. Or was supposed to be dead. His body was warm, and she could hear the beat of his heart inside his chest. Damn. She was so confused; how could a man ten years dead feel so alive?

“You’re awake,” he murmured in a gruff, sleepy tone.

“I wish we could just stay like this,” she whispered. “Maybe then the vampires wouldn’t find us and you won’t have to go.”

He wrapped his arms around her and held her skin to skin for a long time before he sat up, taking her with him. His sienna eyes moved over her before he hooked her in close and rested the side of his face on the top of her head. “Those vamps are tracking you, otherwise…” He let out a breath and kissed her forehead before setting her on the mattress and getting off the bed. “I would stay if I could, Bryna. You have to know that.”

And she did. It was a small solace, but it helped a fraction of a percent. She’d still have his grave to go to when life got rough. That was something? Wasn’t it? Not wanting to think about his eventual departure, she slipped off the bed and collected up her clothes. “Let’s just focus on keeping me alive, and then we can figure out what happens after we save the world.”

He had his pants pulled up to his waist, but stopped before zipping them up. He walked over to her and cupped his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t pretend this is going to be easy. I’ll help you as much as I can, but nothing about this is easy.”

She buried her face against his chiseled chest for a moment before pulling back and offering up a wobbly smile. “It is easier, knowing I hadn’t killed you. It’s the rest of my life I have to come to terms with first.”

He cocked his head and studied her for a long moment before he let out a sigh. “Go on, get dressed. I’ll order you some food.”

Bryna shuffled into the bathroom. How was she going to manage to pull herself out of this tailspin she had no idea, but as much as she didn’t think it would work, she was going to try, for Vincent’s sake. She took her time pulling herself together before she went back out into the room. Vincent was sitting on the bed, and she sat next to him.

He winked at her before he shifted her behind him on the bed. “Stay here. We have visitors. I hope you still like General Tso’s Chicken.”

“Only with chicken fried rice,” she said hopefully. The General Tso’s hadn’t been her favorite; it had been his. She still liked it, as long as she got a pork eggroll, chicken fried rice, and the fortune cookie to go with it.

He cringed and gave her an apologetic look as he opened the door. “Sorry, sunshine.”

The man who walked into the room snorted. His eyes found her, and the creepiest bolt of déjà vu hit her. Her skin crawled, and pain sliced through her wrist. She tucked it back behind her in defense and glared at the intruding man as if it would send him away. “Who is he?”

The man handed Vincent the bag of food. He was shaking his head as if he’d been struck with the same thing.

Vincent carried the food over to the bed and sat on it. “This is Derrick. You’ve met him before. I will explain once everyone is here.”

She eyed the dangerous-looking man and scooted away from him. Hunger growled in her belly, and she grudgingly went to the bag. She opened it up to find her perfect order of Chinese food. A huge bucket of chicken fried rice, two pork eggrolls, and four fortune cookies. She beamed up at Vincent. “You remembered!”

“Amazing, but yeah,” he said with a grin. “After two hundred years, the details do get a little fuzzy.”