Forever Vampire (15 page)

“I had to make a break,” Lyric said. “If Zett gets his hands on me he'll kill me. Did you find a way to remove the mark?”

“I'm still looking. I don't have the right connections.” His bravado dropped and he tugged Lyric in for a hug, running his hand over her back reassuringly. “I'm sorry, sis, but we'll figure this out.”

“Thanks for trying.”

Leo looked to Vail, who could only offer a shrug. “How do you think he is going to help you?”

“We have a deal,” Lyric said. “After we find the gown—” the siblings exchanged a look Vail guessed was more than knowing “—I get a head start to run.”

“Generous of you,” Leo said to Vail. “She'll be off your radar before you can remember the scent of her perfume. Unless you've been tapping her. Have you been tapping my sister, goth boy?”

Enraged again, the man approached him with tightened fists and managed a gut punch before Vail could dodge.

“Tapping means drinking my blood,” Lyric ex
plained to Vail as he clutched his gut, wincing, “in case you had concluded it meant sex.”

“Ah.” Vail offered Leo his most charming, and slightly pained, grin. “Well, then, no tapping.”

“Why not? You don't like her blood?” Leo smacked a fist loudly into his palm. “But you have been fucking her? Who do you think you are? You can't—”

“Leo!” Lyric insinuated herself between her brother and Vail—which he was thankful for at the moment. “Who I sleep with is none of your business. Now chill, and quit calling him goth boy.”

“Does he prefer dark lord?”

Vail caught Lyric's smirk and said, “Vaillant would be the respectful usage of my name.” Leo sneered.

Vail added, “Dark lord is reserved for Zett, I'm sure.”

Lyric bowed her head, and Vail put an arm around her waist. He could feel her sigh ripple through his body. He needed something to anchor himself at the moment, yet she felt a bit unsteady herself. “She was doing it to protect her mother,” he said.

“Doing what?” Leo snapped. “Oh, no, you didn't?”

Lyric nodded. “It seemed the best way to get the largest payoff for Mother so she could be rid of that bastard trying to control her.”

Her brother kicked the couch and punched the air. “That was stupid, Lyric. You should have told me. I would not have stolen the gown.”

“And Mother would be in a worse predicament than
she is now. Besides, I had a great plan for escaping Zett by faking my own kidnapping. Until…”

Both siblings looked to Vail—the man sent to take Lyric back to Mommy.

“It's not going to happen,” Vail said reassuringly. “I won't take Lyric home, and I sure as hell will not allow Zett to get his hands on her again.”

Leo bowed his head and shook it, exhaling through his nose. “The only way she'll ever be safe from that bastard is to get the mark removed. You got a clue how to do that, goth—er, Vaillant?”

“I've only just learned about her mark. My guess is there might be a healer in FaeryTown who can help, or at least attempt to remove it.”

The brother nodded, obviously not having a better suggestion.

“You were leaving?” Lyric asked her brother. “Can we stay the night?”

“I've gotta run right now to catch my flight. And yes, you can stay. But he can't.”

“Vail will protect me.”

The siblings held off in a defiant stance, Leo standing a head taller than his sister, yet Vail noticed how quickly his straight shoulders sagged, and the brother nodded, defeated.

He lugged the suitcase to the door and paused before Vail. “I don't like you.”

“Really? I never would have guessed. I don't intend to harm your sister.”

“If you think taking her home to Mommy is not harming her, you've another think coming. She
deserves to be away from the Santiago clutches, especially with that Connor bastard trying to take over.”

“Connor?”

“My mother's fiancé.”

“If you hate the man so much why didn't you stay and stand up for your mother?”

“You can't tell Charish what to do.”

“Why didn't you take Lyric with you when you left?” Vail defied the brother. “Insist she go along with you?”

“Because I—” The man's jaw tensed. Vail could sense another punch building in his biceps, but he didn't step back.

“He's got his own life. And I'm a big girl who never listens to her brother's advice.” Lyric sat on the couch and stretched her arms along the back. “Stop fighting, boys. You both make me feel so loved.”

“You are loved.” Leo returned to Lyric and kissed her head. “I can't believe he made you do this.”

“It's prettier than yours.” She slapped his head playfully. “That cut makes you look like a punk rocker.”

“Yeah, but remember the time I got my headset stuck in my hair and it fell across a laser beam, setting off the security alarms?”

“It was the one time I had ridden along with you on one of your jobs. I thought for sure you'd be caught.”

Watching the siblings reminisce made Vail realize Lyric did have something he wanted—family. Seriously? The camaraderie between the siblings made
him pine for the smallest acknowledgment from his brother.

Leo pulled Lyric in for a long hug. Vail could hear what he whispered, and suspected the man did that intentionally.

“You can't trust him,” Leo warned.

“I don't,” Lyric reassured.

Vail decided not to challenge what she'd told her brother. He wasn't sure he'd earned her trust, or that he deserved such trust. If the vampiress was smart, she would not trust him farther than he could blow faery dust.

V
AIL TUGGED OFF
his shirt and walked into the guest bedroom. Lyric was taking a shower; she wanted to scrub off the color edging her hairline, and the lingering rancid scent from the worm wraith. He'd used a few paper towels in the kitchen to wipe the itchy blood from his skin, both on his shoulder and his shin where the elevator arrow had nicked him.

He wandered the apartment, and walked into the brother's bedroom, which was connected to the private bathroom where Lyric was. This room was surreal. White marble floor reflected his dark clothing like a ghostly shadow. The bedclothes were white, the electro chromic shades were white, and the light was some weird kind of bright that made the whole room glow like the inside of a marshmallow.

He turned off the light and sat on the floor at the end of the bed, because if he sat on the white counterpane, he'd leave a mark surely. Stretching his legs out before him, he tilted his head back onto the bed.

Cressida had a white room in which he'd spent a lot of time. It had been a room, but not a room. Lots of
Faery spaces were outdoors but served as rooms. The entire room had been vast, all white, and tree roots had hung from above.

Part of Faery was underground, so at any time, when a person was in a room, or even village, roots could be hanging from the ceiling or even the sky. The main underground city on Unseelie territory was called the UnderCity. The first time he'd landed in the mortal realm, Vail had searched for roots in the sky.

He had liked to go into Cressida's room and lie beneath the white willow that glittered as the breeze gently tousled its slender, silver-edged leaves. It had been quiet, almost a nonplace, far from the explosive color and noise of Faery.

He'd needed that respite from a world that was dialed to eleven on the sensory scale.

Until he'd come to the mortal realm, he hadn't realized how shockingly vibrant Faery had been. And yet while he'd never worn sunglasses in Faery, now he wore them, perhaps against the dullness of the world. Weird.

He had to hand it to Cressida. She'd known he'd claimed the white room as a sort of sanctuary, and had allowed him his peace. He couldn't deny she'd had her motherly moments.

Now, he closed his eyes and drifted to that quiet, white place, when he had often wondered if the day would come that he'd meet his real parents.

He'd dreamed Viviane would have long black hair and eyes as blue as his. Rhys had offered to show him a picture upon his arrival in the mortal realm, but Vail
had refused to look at it. Still fresh from banishment by Zett, he hadn't the heart or the courage to do so because it would mean acknowledging a part of him he had been taught to despise.

As for Constantine, he wasn't so sure. Vail could never quite put a face to his image of the tall, stalwart, vampire lord Cressida had told him about. She hadn't liked Constantine, which was apparent from her biting sneers as she'd spoken of him, but she had respected him in a manner Vail could never figure.

Cressida had been bonded to Viviane during the centuries that she had been buried alive. It had to do with the boon Rhys Hawkes had promised Cressida for enchanting his vampire—handing over his firstborn to the faery. As soon as Viviane had conceived, Cressida had known. She had become connected to Viviane. And when the warlock had bespelled Viviane, and she'd been placed beneath Paris in the glass coffin, Cressida had been tugged underground, as well. The Mistress of Winter's Edge had existed in stasis for two centuries.

It was no wonder she'd hated Constantine.

Perhaps that was another reason to want him dead. Much as Vail would never resolve his issues with his reluctant stepmother, he didn't like it when anyone he cared about had been wronged.

But how to care about a mother he'd never met?

Perhaps because as a child he'd created the image of a loving, smiling vampiress who would play with him and tell him stories and teach him the ways of
his kind. Stupid kid stuff. Still, he would never deny his memories—they were all he had.

He thought now his memories must be similar to Lyric's memories of summer camp. Better times. Innocent times. How odd was it they had so much in common, yet were so different?

You are more alike than you will admit
.

True. But would his mother see his truth? Know him for the child she had never gotten to love? He did want to see her, but feared Viviane would not feel the same way. Much as Rhys tried to convince Vail she wanted him to visit, he sensed it could never be right. Even though Cressida had been the one allowed to choose between him and Trystan, Vail sensed in his heart that Viviane, enmeshed in madness, could not have missed her vampire son.

He bowed his head and thumbed the moisture from the corner of his eye. Stupid thoughts. What a wib. Imaginings, that's all they were. Creations. He could never know the truth. And he didn't want to know. Knowing would offer the hardest challenge, and he'd give it a pass.

“Shower's all yours.”

Lyric stood in the doorway in an oversize white T-shirt that dipped to her thighs. Standing on her tiptoes, her thoroughbred gams drew Vail's eye up to the wet fabric that clung at the intersection of her thighs.

Man, he wanted some of that.

“What's wrong, enemy mine?” Lyric cooed, striding forward in a sexy hip-swinging gait.

“Your legs are amazing,” he said on a throaty gasp. “They go up to your neck.”

“What?” She tapped her neck. “You mean this little ol' broken neck?”

She wouldn't let go of that one. Deservedly so. “Yes, that pretty broken neck. I don't believe I've ever looked upon a sexier sight.”

“You don't believe in much.” She squatted before him, one knee between his outstretched legs, the other leg sliding straight out to her side. Cinnamon-scented steam haloed around her. “Tell me what you do believe in, Vail.”

He reached to cup her breast but she shoved his hand away. “No. You said we'd had sex too early. No touching for you tonight.”

He crossed his arms and exhaled. “So it's your turn to torture me? Fine. What do I believe in? I believe no man has control of his life. We are all mere puppets on a predestined path. Nothing we do is going to make the world any better or worse. We're here to experience and try not to screw it all up too badly.”

“Cynic.” She knelt on both knees, stroking a hand down her ribs and stomach.

Vail's eyes traveled lower to where the wet shirt clung to her smooth mons.

“Want to know what I believe?” she said on a sultry whisper. “You have to take whatever it is you want from this world.”

“I can get behind that. We are two cynics.”

“Yes, but there's one thing that isn't for the taking.”

“Everything can be had if you know the angle or grift to get at it.”

“Nope.” She waggled a naughty finger before him, and he wanted to suck it—but he'd abide by the no-touching rule, because this kind of torture was fun. “You can't take love. You can only get it by giving it.”

Vail cracked a goofy sneer. “Are you in the market for love, sweetie?”

She leaned in so close her breath warmed his mouth. A flutter of her lashes dusted his cheek. Her tongue dashed out to wet her lip. “Nope.”

Fuck. He was hard. Vail unbuttoned the top button of his jeans and blatantly eased a hand over his erection.

“Got a problem?” She eyed his crotch, and slid a hand to the apex of her thighs.

“Nothing you can't solve.”

“I said no touching. Which includes no sex,” she said in a singsong voice. Her fingers flirted with the shirt hem, and Vail could not take his eyes from it. “I meant it.”

“Very well, why don't you take care of yourself? You know you want to rub that hot, moist pussy, Lyric. Don't do it for me. You want something, you gotta take it for yourself. Give me a fantasy.”

“Fantasy? You know, I do have a fantasy about a bad boy.” She flicked out the tip of her tongue, and when he thought she'd lick his face, she tilted her head back and moaned.

“Yeah? Am I a bad boy?”

“You let a faery kill your girl. I'd say that makes you very bad.”

“You're my girl?”

“You said as much earlier.”

“I did. You are my girl.” Nice. “So tell me about this bad boy you dream about.”

He spied her fingers slipping under the hem of the shirt. She would undo him.

On the other hand, he could undo himself nicely with this visual tease. Easing a hand inside his pants, he assumed a good grip on the main stick.

“He's tall, dark and likes to brood. Bad boys always brood. I think it's in their DNA.”

Shiny brown hair swished over her shoulder, still wet from the shower. Droplets of water pearled on her pale flesh, slowly trailing toward her breast. She dipped her head and eyed him, mouth partially open to expose the soft pink insides.

“His hair is black as sin and he's got eyes like stained glass. But I never spend too much time looking into them because I'm distracted by his mouth.”

Her tongue flicked over her lips. “It's all about his mouth.”

Vail sucked in his lower lip.

“Sometimes it smirks, a little curl on this side.” She licked the edge of her mouth. “His rare smile makes my body stretch out and push up for his attention.”

Vail felt a smile wriggle his lips, but he suppressed it. “He's always smiling when he walks that walk. That sexy, hip-swaggering walk that channels a panther's
sure strides. He calls it his strut. Makes me wet to see him coming toward me. I want to match the rhythm of his hips…”

Vail squeezed his hardness, not wanting to come until she did, but he knew women were slower than men, and damn—now she lifted the shirt. Her hips rocked, pushing forward, seeking the rhythm of the bad boy's gait. She still straddled him but, surprisingly, did not touch him.

He gritted his teeth and stopped stroking, squeezing at the base of his erection to prolong the intense force that shuddered for release.

“Take your shirt off,” he growled. “I need to see all of you.”

“That's what he says to me.” The shirt hit the marble floor. Lyric cupped her breasts and thumbed the nipples. “And he leans forward and draws his hungry gaze over my body. I want him, but when I reach for him, he retreats.”

She flashed him a wicked grin. “And always that sexy smile. I don't need his touch.” She moaned as she squeezed her nipple. “But I'm hungry for it. To feel his tongue on my skin, knowing he'll tease me until I scream.”

Vail swallowed. “Mercy.”

“He likes to tease. He knows I want him more than he wants me. He can have any woman. Why me?”

“She's all he wants,” Vail hastened out, hissing as an intense climax built in his groin. “Finish yourself,” he managed. “Please.”

“What if I don't want to?”

“Ch'yeah, right. You need to, sweetie.” He hardened his jaw. “Don't you?”

“Yes, I do.” She began to stroke herself, this time putting her hand over his shoulder to lean against the end of the bed. Her fast breaths hushed against his ear. “Soon,” she whispered. “You able to wait so we can do this together?”

“Anything,” he mumbled. “If I'm bad—fuck—you're naughty. Oh, Lyric!”

He couldn't wait. But remarkably, when he cried out and released, she did, as well. The vampiress nuzzled her face against his neck to muffle her cry. He felt the tiny prick of fang—she pulled back, grinning like a drunken pussycat, and tapped her descended fangs. “Not going to tap you, goth boy.”

She rolled onto her bottom, and teased her wet fingers up his rigid abdomen where his come had splashed. She waggled a finger at him, then licked it clean. “I like 'em bad.”

 

A
FTER THEY'D SLEPT
a few hours, they stood on the balcony overlooking the city. It was around two in the morning. It was weird she'd slept, but Lyric had been running on empty lately. She needed blood. And while tempted to sink her fangs into Vail's neck after their incredible Jack 'n' Jill session, she was still leery of the faery ichor she knew pulsed through his veins. Good thing the sex controlled the hunger pangs.

“So we're going to FaeryTown?” she asked.

He'd avoided touching her since they'd risen, and
her skin tingled for his touch. But if he could stand not to touch her, she could certainly hold out, as well.

“We're already there,” he said, and splayed a hand to indicate the streets below. “Your brother lives at the edge of it. Clever place to hide. Of course, he does have the elevator of death to keep him safe.”

“Leo doesn't take risks.”

“Apparently.”

“So how do you know it's FaeryTown? It looks like the rest of Paris to me.”

He went into the bedroom and returned with the small violet glass jar. “They're everywhere, if you know how to see them. You're going to have to see the enemy coming in order to stay away from him.” He opened the jar and tilted it toward her. “You willing?”

She nodded and allowed him to trace under her eyes with the stuff using his little finger. It smelled sweet and wasn't so much greasy as viscous, and immediately blended into her skin.

“So, if vampires go to FaeryTown looking for a high, how do they see the faeries without this ointment?”

“The sidhe who service the vampires don't wear complete glamour. They want the customers to find them. It's the sneaky, fully cloaked ones you need to be able to see.” He studied his handiwork.

“Do I look like a raccoon now?”

“It's kind of sultry,” he said, and tossed the jar up and down in a hand. “Do I get to call you goth girl now?”

“Goth boy was Leo's name for you. But I'll refrain from using it, too.”

“Fair enough.” With a nod over his shoulder, he said, “Take a look.”

She peered down the street, sighting humans walking briskly in the light rain that drizzled onto the cobbled streets and sidewalks, passing in and out of a supermarket with flashing red neon vodka signs.