Bring Me to Life (17 page)

She let out a low, sobbing sound as she jerked back. “No. I killed him. I killed Vincent.”

He shifted on the bed until he was sitting up. He was able to see her perfectly in the darkness. Death had its perks. Too bad they didn’t have the one perk he needed to know he’d finally earned Heaven. He reached out and gently cupped the side of her face. “No. He died to save you from the actions of vampires. You were the innocent in all of this. Please know that.”

*

But she wasn’t sure she wanted to know that. If there was nothing she could have done—nothing she should have done to prevent it, then it would be wholly selfish to work toward being with him again in the afterlife. She didn’t want to think she’d wasted something he’d sacrificed his life for. It made her chest hurt and her tears fall harder.

Before she knew what was happening, Wraith was next to her on the bed, pulling her body up tight against his. His hand stroked down the length of her hair.

“I know,” he murmured in those husky tones that were quickly making it difficult to remember why she was crying or hurt at all. “I’m here while you cry.”

That was it. The flood gates opened, and a horrible racking sob tore out of her chest as she curled into a man she didn’t know and couldn’t be sure she could trust. Did it matter? Did she care?

No.

He’d saved her life and brought news of Vincent from beyond the grave.

It could be some cruel hoax put into play by Shawn, but Wraith’s arms felt too good. Too strong to be anything but what he claimed to be. She knew the difference between types of men. She’d actively sought out the assholes since Vincent’s death. Wraith was one of the good guys, even if he was dead. The thought only made her cry harder.

And Wraith was there.

It had been so long since she’d allow anyone to give her comfort while she cried; it had been so long since anyone had offered it.

But he was there. On the eve of Vincent’s twenty-eight birthday, there was someone here to stop the train wreck that always happened. He was someone to absolve her of guilt. She tightened her body against his, needing the solidness he offered, and something else.

She wasn’t ready to give Vincent up—ever—but she was ready to feel something other than pain. She wiped her tears and sniffled a few times before she tilted her face up to the outline of strong features, even in the dark. “How do you know Vincent won’t mind?” she whispered. It was probably wrong, but everything she’d done since Vincent’s death had been wrong. Maybe, just once, she needed to do something that felt right.

Wraith’s strong hand cupped the side of her face. Soft scruff brushed the side of her face, and his melting voice was a whisper against her cheek. “Because I asked him.”

Did she believe? Or was this her own imagination trying to pull her out of what might finally be a deadly tailspin? It didn’t matter. She was feeling things again she hadn’t felt in a decade, and she wasn’t ready to give them up. She could feel guilty again in the morning. Right now, she wanted Wraith to make good on his promise to take away the nightmare for a night.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, knowing she could lose herself to another dead man.

Guilt was a bitch. Vincent wished he could shove it aside and do exactly what his body craved, but it wasn’t fair to Bryna. He pressed his cheek against hers. “Damn it,” he growled in soft tones. “Conscience wasn’t supposed to enter into this.”

She made a chirping sound of half laughter and half mortification. “But I thought you wanted to.”

“I do, trust me,” and there was real pain in his voice because he was sure his cock was going to explode out of his pants. “But I am supposed to be helping you, not taking advantage of a vulnerable moment.” Not to mention he’d done that the last time and she’d still died.

“This sucks,” she said with another sniffle. “I really need you right now.”

“No,” he said in a tone as neutral as he could make it. “You want Vincent. I’m not him an—” He bit his tongue to keep from saying anymore, but she’d picked up the slip anyway.

“What were you going to say?”

“Sleep. I promise I will make sure your author has the fear of God instilled into him for tarnishing your memory of Vincent.” There, that had to do it.

She snorted, but didn’t move away from his embrace. “Thanks, and I’ll hold you to that, but what were you going to say? You’re not him, duh, but what else were you going to say?”

“Anyway. I’m not him anyway.”

“Liar,” she accused.

“You’re ruining the anonymous savior,” he chided gently. “You need rest. A living body needs all the care you can give it to be healthy and strong.”

She twisted and shifted around until she was situated on top of him with her body curled up on his lap and her head tucked up under his chin. “Fine. Be that way, but if I still want to in the morning, I won’t be happy with rejection a second time.”

Ouch. Damn it! Why did she always have to know the right words to cut into him? “Sex is cumbersome with a cloak and hood.”

She let out a soft sigh and relaxed against him. “Then when it gets dark again—if I live that long.”

“You’re trying to twist my brain,” he accused. “Bryna, please, I only have so much nobility before my true self shines through.”

“Just my luck,” she muttered. “A guy who might actually not be a creep, and not only is he dead, but he also can’t have mindless sex.”

He couldn’t help the quite laugh. He probably shouldn’t have, but it was either laugh at it, or become angry. She wouldn’t understand a tantrum of epic proportions. “You’ll have to live with it,” he said in his most noble tone. “At least for tonight.”

Then she petted her hand down his chest and settled in as he lay back. “That’s better. I might not know how to act with a guy who might really care.”

“I’m going to stop talking now,” he said without thinking about it. “Sleep, sunshine.”

She stiffened for a moment, and then relaxed again. “What color is your hair?”

“Black. Go to sleep.” It was a stall tactic he knew, and he wasn’t going to fall for it.

“What about your eyes?”

“Brown. Sleep.”

“Light or dark.”

“Light,” he growled. “Sleep!”

She laughed softly and snuggled in. “Then stop answering questions. How tall are you?”

“Sleep!”

“Please? Just one little height?”

“Bryna!”

“Night, Wraith,” she whispered and then yawned and lay quiet against him. It took a few more moments before her breathing evened into an easy, sleeping rhythm.

Great. Wasn’t he just an epic moron? Not only was he in need of the hottest woman known to man, but he’d stopped the whole phenomenal experience from happening. He was stuck here for the next eight hours with her lightly moving against him while she slept. Her delectable little body was pressed in tightly against his, and with the way she moved and moaned in her sleep, he knew she wasn’t dreaming of his death. No, she wasn’t dreaming of Vincent at all. She was dreaming of hot, grinding sex with Wraith. Damn it. It was pathetic to be jealous of himself—in a dream, no less—but he was.

* * * *

Bryna came slowly awake as she ground her hips against the heat of a male body. Sometime during the night, his hand had slipped up under her shirt, and his nimble fingers massaged along her spine. So many times she’d remembered waking up in this exact state. The musk of the man beside her brought the past into the present.

“Vincent?” Her eyes fluttered open in the pre-dawn hours. A faint touch of blue touched the dark sky outside the window. His hand stroked tingles along her spine. She moaned with need and shifted up, straddling herself over top of him. A silly hood blocked his face from view, but his groan held desperation.

“You shouldn’t.”

Her bottom slid along his lap as she leaned forward and pushed down the hood. A smile bloomed. Where she’d been expecting nightmares, she found erotic fantasy. All night she’d tried to have this outcome, but each time she’d shoved back Wraith’s hood, the man under her wasn’t the man she wanted.

Vincent stared up at her with his sienna eyes. He’d aged as if he’d not missed a day of life. A ragged scar slashed across his face. A hint of nightmare, but she shook her head, working past it. She wanted one more time with her Vincent, even if it could only be in a dream. She traced her finger along the faded line. It erased the last traces of boyishness he’d had in life, but she liked it. It made her bad boy, and she wasn’t about to quibble the meaning of mysterious scars in a dreamscape.

It was his birthday. Every man deserved a good blowjob on his birthday. She leaned up and dragged her mouth over his. Damn. He tasted the way she remembered him, and his mouth was remembered ecstasy. She moved her hands down his torso, feeling the hard contours of his muscles. “Let me,” she breathed against his ear. “You’ll like it.”

He groaned and his head dropped back, his hips pushing into hers. “Don’t have to.”

“But I want to.” She reared up to take in the sight of him lying under her. After pushing the cloak off his shoulders, she dragged off his shirt. She pressed light kisses to his hot skin. She didn’t care if this man was really Wraith. She needed a prop for this too delicious dream. Her hands splayed out over his chest, and she nipped at the hollow of his throat. “You’ll love it.”

His fingers gripped her hips. “Bryna.”

She captured his bottom lip with hers and sucked. His cock went harder. “Those pants have to be uncomfortable.” She pushed up and slipped her body down the length of him and unfastened the button. “Let me help you.”

“Bryna—” What he was about to say died on his lips when she licked the crease of his hip. His body shuddered in pleasure. “Oh, God.”

She grinned as she unzipped his pants and pulled them down lower on his hips. She lowered her head and focused her hot attention on tasting his skin, and seeing if this man had all the same sensitive spots her beloved Vincent had. She licked along his hip again, and then lightly sucked the skin at the pressure point right there.

He sucked in a breath, and his hips jerked forward. His fingers tangled in her hair. “Holy hell,” he groaned. “Please—” Then let out another soft groan.

She smirked up at him. She sat up and pulled off her shirt, and tossed it to the floor. She leaned forward and let her hard nipples skim down his chest. She stopped her descent to spend a few moments tantalizing his nipples before licking her way down his hard abdomen. His breath caught, and his body trembled at all the right spots to keep her firmly locked in her wonderful fantasy.

*

“Bryna.” Her name on his lips was the giving into what was about to happen. He thrust up into her despite the fabric blocking his entrance into her tight, firm body. He slipped his hands up her back, and tangled one hand in her hair at the nap of her neck. He forced her to look at him. “You don’t have to do this.”

Her eyes narrowed, and then she lowered her head and licked around his navel. “Oh, but I want to.” She pulled out of his hold, and went back to her task of driving him mad. Her soft, hot hands glided over his sensitized flesh. She kept eye contact with him as she moved lower. When she was even with the low-riding waistband of his pants, she shoved them down, freeing his cock from the painful constraint. She flashed an impish grin before she licked his entire length. Her body shuddered with pleasure when he moaned. His hand fisted in her hair, seeming on its own accord, as her mouth wrapped around him.

Vincent knew he was going to die. Not what he’d experienced before, but a sweet kind of death that only left him one road to Heaven. The way she knew how to use her mouth and tongue to cause effects he’d never experienced before could be his undoing. He didn’t care how she gained the experience. Dear God. If there was ever a better reason to find Oblivion, it was with her mouth working him to the point he was sure he was going to embarrass himself.

He had to work at loosening the hold he had of her hair. As much as he’d die to have her finish him, he wanted this to be something more. Gently, but firmly he tugged her head back.

She stopped and looked up at him with apprehension. “You don’t like it?”

“Bryna,” he croaked out. Yeah, he was going to make an embarrassing mess of this, but he might be able to salvage it. “You,” was what he managed to eke out in a raspy voice. He looped one hand around her and pulled her up so she was straddled over him again. His hand was still tangled in her fiery hair. He used it to tug her head back and drag his mouth along the column of her throat. “You first.”

She leaned back and studied him for a long couple of moments before she scooted forward over him and leaned down. Her soft lips touched his before she pushed herself up. Her emerald gaze locked on to his as he moved his hands to cover her breasts.

Then it became about taste and touch and need. Their bodies moved together like practiced lovers. He knew each little spot and crevice to touch or lick or slide his fingers into to make her squirm over him. He loved each sound. He needed them. He watched the way she moved. He hoped every drop of love he felt for her seeped through. She needed to feel it. He needed her to feel it.

Her bottom brushed and ground against him until there was no hope for him to hang on. He jabbed his fingers in deep and stroked them along her velvety insides in just the right place to make her come. Watching her as she came on his hand was something he could do until the time stopped. When her body finished quaking around his fingers, he dragged his hands over her soft skin, wanting to touch every part of her.

He closed his eyes at the exquisite feel of her breasts in his hands. He lightly brushed the pads of his thumbs over taut nipples. He grinned when she let out a soft sigh.

“Vincent.”

He looked at her face as he pushed up to a seated position. He captured her body against his as he lowered his head to skim his lips down her throat. “Need,” was all he could rasp out. The grinding need to be one with her refused to be ignored. He gritted his teeth against the mad desire and tipped her back. He captured the tip of one of her luscious breasts with his mouth, and then he worshiped the other.