[Kassandra Lyall Preternatural Investigator 03] - Bloody Claws (23 page)

Something about the way she made herself comfortable and just sat there watching Lenorre and me made it feel as though we were about to put on a show. I didn't like the feeling, and when the discomfort rose in me, Lenorre must've sensed it, reaching out a hand and sweeping my hair past my shoulder. The tip of her finger traced the vein in my throat.

Lenorre murmured, "This would be a great deal easier if you were in my lap or lying on your back."

"Which do you want?" I asked.

Lenorre sat and guided me into her lap. I curled my legs around her as her arms sealed over my waist. The line of her torso against mine and the feel of her beneath me was a distracting thing.

She kept one long arm locked around my waist, gently lowering me ever so slightly so that she could get the angle she wanted when she went in for the bite. Her lips traced the vein in my neck as much as her fingertip had.

"You have to relax," Rosalin said, noticing the tension that had strung through my body. "The tenser you are, the more it'll hurt."

"Ros," I said, "you're not exactly helping here."

I felt Lenorre's lips part over my skin, her tongue tracing a wet line that made me sigh. She sucked lightly at my skin, her fangs teasing the delicate and sensitive flesh of my neck. The pleasure helped ease the tension that knotted my back, forced me to relax one muscle at a time. Lenorre's jaw tightened as she bit down harder, easing her fangs into me in a way that made me feel every sensation, every tiny bit of teeth. I gripped her shoulders, nails digging in at that first painful kiss. The muscles in my body protested, clenching tight in immediate response to the surge of pain. I forced myself to go limp, shutting my eyes tight. The more I fought the pain, the more it hurt. Lenorre opened her mouth wider, unsheathing her fangs. I gasped as her lips sealed over the wound, her mouth working me in ways that seemed far, far more intimate. Too intimate, making my body go slack at the sensation. It felt as if a cord was directly attached to the pulse in my neck, coursing through the rest of my body, nestled between my legs. Lenorre sucked at the two dainty puncture wounds and things low inside of me tightened and jerked, making my breath come short.

I didn't know how long she'd been drinking from me when I felt the bed move. Rosalin was on her knees and for a moment, I thought she was crawling toward us. But when she raised her hands, lifting her hair and sweeping it aside, I realized she wasn't.

She was offering her neck to Eris, who in her long tunic and skintight leggings, crawled toward her with a dark and predatory hunger.

Lenorre's hands moved at my back, raising my shirt and slipping under to touch my skin. My body remained slack with pleasure as I rode the small tides that ebbed and flowed from the wound to my groin. The sensation was not so strong that I'd climax, though Lenorre was certainly capable of such a feat, considering past experience. It was like falling naked into a bed of fur and silk and feeling that smoothness slide and shelter every inch of my body, sensual and inviting.

Rosalin gasped and the bed rocked slightly. That cool vampiric energy rose in the air, like the scent of night and cold stone. I could feel it spreading outward like a growing vine, seeking, searching, and stretching. It made my skin flush and prickle when it found me.

I must've let go of Lenorre, for she stood, cradling me, not once breaking the hold of her mouth on my neck. My back met the mattress and I opened to her. She crawled between my legs, the very essence of my life flowing into her.

Someone was making small pleased noises. They were practically whimpering with it as the sound became less controlled and more urgent. I turned my head where I laid, trapped beneath the weight of Lenorre's long body, trapped under her crimson kiss.

Eris had her knees between Rosalin's parted thighs, holding her in her lap. She fed at her neck and her hips rose and fell, as if dancing to some seductive tune I couldn't hear. Rosalin's hips twitched, echoing Eris's movements. Her head fell back and Eris followed her, keeping her hold as Lenorre had done to me.

Lenorre licked my neck, her tongue dancing over the bite marks to encourage the flow of my blood. Something low in my body writhed as if her flicking tongue had commanded it to do a trick.

Eris was blurry in my vision, but I could make out the shape of her outline as she rose high on her knees, still feeding at Rosalin's neck. The wolf inside me lazily perked her ears at the smell of blood and desire.

Eris cradled Rosalin against her body, moving her hips and forcing Rosalin's to follow that unheard song.

Rosalin clung to Eris. Her breath was louder than it should've been, coming quicker, shuddering from her lips every time Eris's hips rose to meet hers.

Rosalin cried out. I grabbed two handfuls of Lenorre's hair, covering my face with it, drawing in the wintry and sultry scent of her, trying to block out the smell of blood and sex. Rosalin's whimpers turned to soft moans and I knew she was close, close to falling on Eris's power as if it were a sword. She gave a strangled cry and I had a moment to be thankful that Eris was directing her energy at Rosalin and Rosalin alone.

Lenorre found my lips with hers and I opened to her as she pushed the taste of sin and metal inside me. Her tongue was wet and hot with life. She held herself above me and when she drew away, I released her hair. It swung over our faces like a curtain.

I kissed her softly, tenderly, using only my lips to tease her mouth.

I felt Rosalin's body collapse back against the mattress.

Lenorre murmured, "Seems we are the ones that received the show." She sat back on the bed, lifting me against her. I couldn't exactly disagree. Rosalin was flat on her back, staring at the ceiling as if she wasn't really seeing it.

Eris met my gaze, her eyes still rich with power.

There was a knock on the door and I jumped. Lenorre went to it and allowed Zaphara to enter the room. Zaphara took in the scene in the bedroom but didn't make any verbal note of it. Rosalin appeared to be off in her own little world and I wondered just how much power Eris had really been focusing on her. Eris stroked Rosalin's hair in a gesture that was tender and almost done with something close to affection. One thing I was certain of, Eris cared about Rosalin. They might not have been lovers or truthfully even friends, and I don't know why in that moment I saw some kind of compassion in Eris, but I did. I saw a strength in her that did not arise out of harshness or cruelty or thirst for selfish gain, but something more akin to how a dark Goddess must feel about her charges, sheltering, protective, while remaining unopposed to laying out the challenge and seeing what they're made of.

I also realized Eris wasn't embracing all her power. There was too much control behind her energy. It was like standing at the foot of a mountain waiting for an avalanche.

It was hard to meet her gaze when she raised it from Rosalin's form, something about her expression made the memories of last night heavier. Her mouth was an inviting thing that stirred so many thoughts, namely of what she had done to my body.

I wanted to block out the sight of her, but knew I couldn't. I could cover my face with my hands, but I could still feel her, sense her, smell her… "Kassandra?" Lenorre was talking to me.

"Huh?"

"Are you well?"

"Yeah," I said, and my voice sounded distant even to me. "I think so."

"Zaphara asked me to inform you that she is ready when you are."

I gave a sharp nod. "I'll give Arthur a call and see if he's put together a unit." I pushed myself from the bed and to my feet. "I need a shower first," I said.
Preferably,
I thought,
a cold one
.

Rosalin appeared more at ease than I'd seen her in the past couple of days. I was happy to see her settle down, even if it was Eris's vampiric mind tricks at play. Lenorre's words in my head haunted me to the bathroom.

The touch of an erotic vampire can be an addictive thing, Kassandra. I fear you may find it a more difficult challenge to refuse her.

I undressed and stepped under the hot spray of water, praying it was not true, praying that I could scrub the memory of Eris off my skin.

CHAPTER 
twenty-Five

he shower helped a little, but some thoughts kept buzzing around like a persistent fly that wouldn't go away. I struggled with those thoughts. When Rosalin had pursued me before Lenorre and I had began our relationship, the energy of our beasts had fanned the fire between us and I'd relented to that energy, surrendered myself to the magic of it. I'd come to grips with what had happened between Rosalin and me. Yes, I'd had casual sex, sex inspired by years of pent up desire and metaphysical seduction. I didn't regret it. Why should I when I am a woman and it is my decision what I do and do not do with my body? In its own strange way, perhaps the experience had in fact, actually helped us forge some of the bond of friendship that we had. We'd both spiraled headlong into desire, and then, when it was done, it was done.

Of course we'd talked about it. We expressed our feelings. I'd been honest with her about what I wanted and what I didn't want. I didn't feel the kind of heart and soul magnetism that I felt with Lenorre.

I didn't feel it with Eris, either, even though the aftertaste of her power clung to me like a silken web. That was what unnerved me. Perhaps some part of me would've been able to say to myself
it was all lust and metaphysics,
and I would have been able to put it behind me as I had done with Rosalin. But I feared I couldn't, that I wouldn't be able to put it behind me. One, I hadn't been in a relationship when things had gotten out of hand with Rosalin, and it certainly hadn't been a ménage à trois. Lenorre hadn't played any role in it whatsoever. She had with Eris; she'd even been the one guiding the ship. Could she have stopped it? Had I really been that taken by Eris? Is that what Lenorre meant when she once told me she was intrigued by the way Eris called to me? That she wanted to watch Eris make love to me? As soon as I thought it, the words didn't sound right.
Fuck
, seemed more appropriate. Eris had fucked me. And as all women know, there's a difference between fucking and making love. Not that I'm opposed to either under the right circumstances.

I shook my head, raking a hand through my wet hair. I didn't entirely comprehend Lenorre's lack of jealousy. I remembered her comment about the threesome not being her first. It made me wonder what kind of vampiric debauchery Lenorre had been exposed to and participated in.

If I wasn't afraid I'd run screaming or that it'd alter my view of Lenorre as the woman I knew and loved, I might've had the courage to ask.

But in truth, we are the pages of our history, and like books, where we begin is not always where we end. We may leave the past behind us, but every love, every touch, every page and experience along the way goes into the making of who we are. It's how we choose to deal with those experiences that make us who we become. I was learning that, albeit slowly, with every day I spent in my life as a non-human. Lucky me.

I hunched over the cabinet in front of the mirror, deciding in that moment I would never love Lenorre any less for whatever shadows lingered in her past. Every light and darkness contributed to the whole of the woman, of the vampire, that I loved.

To deny an aspect of a lover is to cheat them. You cannot say,
I will love only this in you and deny all the rest
, and truly love someone. For some unusual reason, I recalled a scripture from the bible about love being patient, kind, enduring, and not jealous or boastful. If I'd ever met a woman that embodied those characteristics, it was Lenorre. Okay, so most Christians would look aghast at the fact that Lenorre had shared me with another woman, let alone another vampire, and the simple fact that I'm lesbian. The whole "aghast" thing wasn't hard to come by. But in truth, none of us had been particularly jealous or boastful last night. It might've been a bit of a play on words, but let's face it, fanatics of so many different flavors have been twisting the meaning of religious texts to suit their own ends since the beginning of time.

As a Pagan, I didn't view what had transpired between us as a sin, and I didn't feel the need to repent for it. I still wasn't thrilled that it had happened, or delighted at the fact that yet again, metaphysics seemed to be complicating my life. But metaphysics or no, we'd all had our hands in the cookie jar and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it now.

I found a pair of charcoal slacks I'd left at Lenorre's for work and paired them with a white T-shirt. I was running out of clothes and would have to make a trip back to my abandoned apartment soon. I thought of Rupert, whom I hadn't seen or heard from in nearly a week. I guessed he was busy, either working at his shop, Guns Unlimited, or maybe he'd taken an out of state gig, as he too was a licensed paranormal hunter.

It wasn't anything out of the ordinary to not hear from him for weeks. Rupert wasn't really a call-you-up-and-chat-about-how'syour-day kind of guy. No, break-into-your-house-to-see-what's-up was more Rupert's style. Though, to my relief, he'd only done that once when Lenorre and I had first started seeing each other.

I rang Arthur after dressing and let him know Zaphara's spell was most definitely a go tonight. We briefly discussed our plan of action. Zaphara would use the spell to summon the astral being and bend it to her will. She was confident she could force it to track down the witch that had summoned it and assured me she could pry a location from it. If we got a location, I would call Arthur and let him know where the killer was hiding and what to look for. When I'd asked Zaphara why she was sure she could find the murderer, she seemed annoyed with me and so I'd stopped asking questions, figuring the Daoine Maithe knew what she was doing. Chasing down astral spirits was a completely new area to me. However, I was sure of one thing: if it didn't work, we were screwed. We couldn't exactly catch it and haul it down to the station.

I'd also just gotten off the phone with Hunter Kinsley to let her know I was still working on the case but hadn't yet put it to a close, when Zaphara placed a book back on one of the shelves. We stood in Lenorre's library, and I knew each and every book belonged to Lenorre and could tell by that musky paper scent that some were very old. Shelves lined each of the four walls from floor to ceiling. The highest shelf was tall enough that even Zaphara and Lenorre would need to step on something to reach it. The books were well kept and dust free. I didn't know if it was Lenorre's doing or if one of the other residents maintained it, but it was cozy.

Zaphara picked something up off the table and handed it to me.

"The necklace has not been spelled although it has been blessed," she said. "It will not harm you to wear it. It may actually serve as beneficial."

I held the necklace up, inspecting it. "Do you think that's why Astrid gave it to me?"

"For protection?" Zaphara asked with an expression that told me she was only partially listening.

I nodded and she must've caught it out of her peripheral vision, because she wasn't watching me when she said, "Yes. Onyx is a particularly good stone at helping one shield against astral spirits. The septagram is also a good symbol to focus on when calling to the faerie magic in your veins."

I put the necklace on, feeling a barely noticeable rush of warmth where it rested over my shirt. For a moment, I panicked, catching the septagram and holding it away from my body.

"That's the blessing you're feeling, Kassandra. You're not likely to burst into flames."

I felt more than saw Lenorre enter the library, and I let go of the charm, assuring myself that it wasn't silver. No, silver wouldn't burst into flame when I touch it, but it does itch and burn like fuck, and the rash that accompanies it is just
not
sexy. The rich and seductive smell of Lenorre's perfume permeated my senses, making me turn to find her as if she had a collar set about my neck. She'd changed into a pair of skinny jeans that were tucked into a pair of cuffed boots. A black velvet waistcoat cinched at her waist, white lace blossomed at her wrists and throat, though the collar of the shirt had been left opened, offering glimpses of the flesh beneath it that was nearly as white.

Lenorre's delicious lips curved in a mysterious smile, letting me know she acknowledged and appreciated the attention I gave. She came to me, burying her fingers in my hair and kissing my cheek. I touched her hand, twining my fingers with hers, feeling the coolness of her energy tangling with my warmth, setting my soul and the beast within at ease.

"Is all prepared?" she asked Zaphara.

"It is. I'm ready when you two are."

"Kassandra?" Lenorre asked.

"Zaphara, would you leave the room for a moment?" Zaphara didn't answer me with words, but she did leave the library. Lenorre waited until the door clicked closed to ask, "Kassandra, what is it?"

If her hair had been unbound, I would've buried my fingers in it to bring her mouth down to mine. As it was, it spilled down her back in a cascade of curls held captive by the same ribbon she'd been wearing earlier. I stood high on my toes, lacing my fingers behind her neck. Her lips found mine and I kissed her, putting my entire body into it.

I pulled away, rather reluctantly, feeling the quiet murmur and sweet hum of my blood.

"Is that all?" she asked.

I brushed her cheek with the tips of my fingers, before lowering myself flat on my feet. "And I love you," I said.

Lenorre didn't say it back. She didn't need to. I was almost to the door when her hand caught my wrist. She used the grip she had to spin me around and pull me up against her body.

She kissed me slowly, sensually, as if savoring the taste of me.

When she drew back, her breath tickled my skin and my throat burned. "And I love you."

We left the library holding hands, our fingers laced together, anchoring us to each other and mirroring the bond in our hearts. Lady only knew what kind of darkness we were about to walk into, but Lenorre let me know with tender devotion that we walked into it together.

Zaphara was waiting outside the door. Eris and Rosalin were approaching from the end of the hall closest to Lenorre's room. They walked apart, but Rosalin looked more like herself than she had when I'd found her in the dining room. Relief flooded through me and I tried to hold on to the hope all around me.

I really didn't like the idea of facing the night hag again. I liked the idea of everyone risking their lives even less. They were some of the bravest, most interesting people-preternaturals-I'd ever known. I didn't like the idea of anything bad happening to any of them, to any of us. Even Zaphara and her weirdness.

I found it oddly touching.

I swallowed a little too loudly over the stitch in my throat.

"What's wrong with you?" Rosalin asked as she approached.

"Nothing," I said, trying to blink away my blurred vision.

"Are you…are you about to cry?"

"No," I said. Clearly, she didn't believe me, but she didn't bother pressing me about it.

Lenorre's hand squeezed mine, a comforting reminder that she was there and hadn't failed to catch whatever expression or thoughts flickered across my face. I returned the gesture as we made our way to the upper levels, trying to focus on the task ahead and to ignore the whole kick-ass paranormal huntress turned sappy werewolf moment.

*

Zaphara made it clear when we entered the wooded area behind Lenorre's house that she was going to be the ringleader. She'd brought a bag with her that I assumed she'd used to carry whatever supplies she needed. She picked an area that had a small break in the trees and walked an observational circle.

"This will work," she said, coming to me and kneeling to begin pulling supplies out of the bag. "I'll need your help casting the circle."

"I know how to cast a circle by pagan definitions," I said, "is that what you're asking me to do?"

"Your pagan practices are based off ours," she said. "So it is similar, with a few minor differences. I don't want you to call any quarters, not with words." She handed me a small vial of what appeared to be water and a seashell that was slightly larger than my hand. "We will use the elemental representations to attract the elements and create a barrier."

I thought I understood what she meant. In a pagan or Wiccan ritual, the elemental representations usually went on a witch's altar. When a witch cast a circle, she would go to each of the four corners and use words of invocation to summon the guardians of each element. Zaphara wanted to use the elements to anchor the spell, so to speak. Each corner, or direction, corresponds with an element. I went to the eastern edge of the circle, placed the shell on its back, removed the tiny cork stopper, and poured the water into it.

I turned to find Zaphara placing a large crystal at the northern point, symbolizing the earth element. I was about to stand when she, without turning to look at me, said, "Visualize, Kassandra. Do not be hasty."

"What do you mean?"

She shook her head, murmuring something about
witches
and
sloppy
. She knelt beside me, touching my shoulder. "Lower your shields," she said.

I drew in a deep breath and lowered my shields when I exhaled. The night became more vibrant, thrumming against my skin.