Broken Heart 06 Come Hell or High Water (3 page)

"Someone would've figured out the binding spells didn't work on you guys."

"Who's to say they didn't?" He shrugged. "Doesn't matter now. Not many of us around. Besides, the Ghillie Dhu sexual exemption is the least of the Consortium's problems."

"Connor..."

"I've worried you." He smiled, his eyes edged in sorrow, always sorrow. "It's all right,
m'aingeal
. Do you want me to go?"

I got the odd impression he was hoping I would say yes, even though evidence to the contrary was lancing the sweet spot between my thighs. My body was screaming with oh-my-God-it's-been-four-years-please-don't-ruin-this lust, while my mind whispered,
Caution, caution, caution
. It made no sense for Connor to lie to me. After all, he'd be stuck with me as his mate for the next century. He didn't want insta-marriage any more than I did.

"Stay," I said.

Connor cupped my breasts, his thumbs sweeping across my nipples. Electric sensations pulsed. Lightning on flesh. Passion buried into muscle, wormed into bone. I felt overtaken by it, possessed.

He licked around my areola with short, hot strokes until he finally pulled the peak into his mouth and sucked. Hard.

I grabbed his shoulders, digging my nails into his flesh as he split his attention between my breasts.

He tormented me until I wrenched free of his wicked mouth and pushed him down.

I quaked.

Need was a living creature, hungry, greedy, unfulfilled.

I tugged his boxers, and he helped me wiggle them off.

Whoa. I stared at his cock. Hel-lo, would that thing even fit?

"I'll fill you up," he promised. "I'll make you come."

Embarrassment swept over me, and he chuckled as he cupped my burning face, kissing me as he twitched his cock on purpose. That was the most impressive muscle I'd seen yet. And Connor, beautiful Connor, had a lot of muscles.

I pulled away, my mouth swollen, my body throbbing in frenetic rhythm. Yet I took my time looking at him. He was gorgeous. I trailed my fingers over his ridged stomach. There was a long, white scar on the left side of his rib cage. I traced it. "What's this?"

"Old scar. Bad memory."

His flesh wore other scars, the badges of a warrior. I was romanticizing because the truth was probably less thrilling. I couldn't help but touch them all. After my fingers paid homage, I leaned down and kissed every old wound.

I felt his belly tense under my lips. The knowledge that I affected him the way he did me was powerful. I continued my exploration, tempering my own urges to conquer and to take. I somehow knew he'd had little enough of kindness.

Connor watched me through hooded eyes. Amber desire glinted in his gaze, and I felt his patience slipping. He wanted me in such a desperate way I was stunned.

I walked my fingers up to his pectorals.

I traced the quarter-sized brown circles and flicked his tiny nipples until they hardened.

I touched him everywhere, memorizing his contours, worshiping every imperfection. I knelt between his legs, and as I swept my hands down to his cock, he sucked in a sharp breath. I cupped his balls.

Wow. He was big.

I kissed his cock, my hair falling in a curtain. Connor fisted his hands, his breath erratic, his body tight, wound like a spring, ready to let go, to fly.

His penis was warm, silky, and oh-baby hard. As the length slid between my lips, pleasure trembled in my belly.

His taste filled my mouth, made my whole body burn. I moaned; the sound vibrated on his cock, made him gasp.

He grabbed my shoulders and dragged me over his body.

He was much stronger than I was, and I wasn't afraid. I was emboldened.

His cock nestled against me, pressing hotly against my clit.

"You're so wet." His hands were filled with my breasts. His thumbs flicked the peaks. They hardened, aching. He rose up and suckled the sensitive nubs. Pleasure rocked every nerve ending.

I moved over his cock, slick and swollen. My core welled with that unique bliss. I reached for it, moving in tandem with Connor 's rapid heartbeat. I didn't want relief from the ache, from the need. I wanted more of it. I wanted more of him.

"Phoebe," he murmured. "Kiss me."

He captured my lips, plunged his tongue inside, and mimicked our bodies' motions. He attacked my mouth, sucking my tongue, biting my lips.

Our mouths mated, and I held on to him because I felt myself falling away into lust so great, I realized it would never be satisfied. I would always want him like this, and it scared me. I'd never felt like merging with someone else, as though I would always be incomplete because I had known this - I had known him.

He kneaded my breasts and pulled on my nipples. Lightning struck at my core, and the shock of it was wondrous.

He was heat; he was need; he was mine.

So I took him.

Passion was fangs tearing, claws ripping away the tenderness I'd fostered. The ancient beat of drums, the rise of primal music in my breast, in my heart, in the very center of my being.

"Bite me," he said. "Please."

I sank my fangs into his neck, drinking the nectar of his blood. I was already in overload, but the pleasure of tasting him, of taking him, was too much.

Connor cried out, his fingers digging into my hips as he came, his thick cock shoving deeply, pulsing hard as his seed filled me.

I went over the edge.

Into the music we'd created.

I awoke the next night with the bedcovers pulled up to my chin. I drew back the quilt; the musk of our lovemaking still scented the sheets.

I had a taste in my mouth, too. Something metallic. It wasn't bad, almost like I'd accidentally bitten the wrapper along with a dark chocolate candy bar.

Okay, time to brush my fangs.

The room was pitch-black, thanks to the lack of windows and the uber-sunlight-protection paint that coated the whole room. Any extremely bright light could fry a vampire, so extra precautions were necessary. I didn't expect sunlight to seep through regular walls, but the Consortium - appointed protectors of all Broken Heart Turn-bloods - insisted on it.

I flipped on the bedside lamp. Its glow didn't do much to diminish the darkness. It was after nine p.m. Seems weird, right? All the kids - well,
all
the townfolks - were on a nocturnal schedule. The only people moseying around town during the day were the town's security teams and the occasional zombie. I'd slept much later than I usually did. Sleeping in with a four-year-old was not an option, for one thing. Shoot. It was past ten o'clock in Florida. I bet Danny had spent the whole day at Disney World and was already tucked into bed. All the same, I picked up my cell phone from the nightstand and dialed Jackson. He said that Danny had been conked out for a while. The rest of our conversation was short, and I promised to call by eight the next evening. I was disappointed that I hadn't woken in time to connect with my son, but I was glad he was having a good time. I'd never be able to take him to Disney World; it made me glad Danny had a human father, one who could give him all the things I couldn't. Being a demon-hunting vampire wasn't exactly conducive to parenthood.

Thanks to my undead senses, as foggy as they often were upon awaking, I smelled cooking bacon. Due to an accidental fairy wish, we resident bloodsuckers could eat human food, but only as long as we stayed inside the borders of Broken Heart. And, ooh-wee, I still loved me some fried pig.

I heard the scrape of a pan across the electric burner. Then water gushed. Rinsing the cook-ware, too? My Ghillie Dhu was a keeper.

I scurried out of bed and went into the master bathroom. I scrubbed my teeth, and then I took a quick shower. After throwing on a T-shirt and some shorts, I brushed my hair and considered my complexion. I'd died at nineteen, even though by human years I'd be almost twenty-four. Something about vampirism made skin bright and beautiful. The pregnancy stretch marks on my belly and hips had disappeared. My eyes were brown, my features on the narrow side. I had high cheekbones, a thin swoop of a nose, and a mouth with too much pout.

I pulled my hair into a ponytail and decided makeup would be a waste of time.

I couldn't wait for a cup of coffee, which didn't do much for me other than taste really good. It's icky to admit, but that first warm gulp of blood was way better than an extra shot of espresso.

I stopped in the living room, my toes wiggling into the threadbare carpet, and listened to the domestic sounds coming from the kitchen. I felt a little giddy. Lucky me, I'd found the only being in existence not affected by the vampires' hundred-year marriage curse.

I walked to the swinging doors that led to the kitchen. I looked over the top and watched him plate up breakfast. Fluffy pancakes, crisp bacon, scrambled eggs, and orange juice awaited us. My gaze traveled along his backside. He wore only his black jeans. He was fi-ine. I got an attack of lust all over again.

"Like what you see, lass?" Amusement ghosted his tone as he turned to look at me.

"Hell to the yeah," I said as I entered the kitchen.

"Where's your locket?"

I automatically reached for the gold heart, surprised to find it missing. "It must've come off. The clasp is twitchy. I'll go - "

I paused, getting a distinct whiff of rotten eggs. What the -

Sulfur.

The base of my spine tingled, which was the equivalent of my spidey senses indicating trouble. Specifically: demon trouble.

"Shit." I stared at Connor, and his eyes went wide.

"I thought I had more time," he said. "Damn it!"

The plate of food in his hand crashed to the floor and he reached for me. I shook my head, and his hand dropped.

The house was protected from demons; Momma's hoodoo and my own protection spells had made sure of that. Or so I thought.

In crackles of black energy, three men appeared in a semicircle around us, all wielding weapons and grim expressions.

I whirled to stand in front of Connor, fists cocked. I had no doubt he could protect himself, but I was the one with demon-ass-kicking skills. Connor stood behind me, tension radiating off him. I knew he was just waiting for the fight to begin. I didn't have my knives or my Glock, but I had trained with the best warriors in Broken Heart. Between those skills and my magic, I could vanquish these three assholes.

The man to the left of me was a couple inches shorter than his companions, who were both well over six feet, given that they were as tall as Connor. He wore his red hair shorn on the sides and long on top, which was pulled back and braided. Snake tattoos slithered up his neck. He dressed like a Hell's Angel, all black leather and badass. He looked me over, sneering.

The blond in front of me held scimitars. With his light hair and narrow features, he looked like the warrior elf Legolas - or rather the character played by Orlando Bloom in the film. He wore tight black pants with an odd blue vest that tied at the waist. His eyes were light blue, the color of a glacier, and just as cold.
Sheesh.
He looked like he'd fallen out of a fantasy novel.

The last dude, the one on the left, was huge - as tall and wide as a freaking oak tree. He was dressed in a worn black concert T-shirt that touted the KISS 1983 "Lick It Up" tour, a pair of faded jeans, and black cowboy boots. His face was built like a boxer's: flat and square, with a nose that looked as if it had been broken a few times. He had eyes the color of dark chocolate and wore his black hair short and spiky. He held two gleaming silver SIG Sauer P226 pistols, both pointed at the floor. I had no doubt he could aim and fire in nanoseconds, especially being supernatural.

As we all assessed one another, the room felt as though it were getting smaller and smaller. I didn't speak and I didn't press closer to Connor, either. We both needed room if we were going to bring on some whoop-ass.

"Well, well, well. What have we got here, boys?" The redhead spoke in a guttural English accent. "Looks fresh as a peach, she does. Too bad she's Connor 's whore."

I hit him first.