When Darkness Hungers: A Shadow Keepers Novel (Shadow Keepers 5) (33 page)

“I see what you are. I’m sorry if you can’t. Or won’t.”

He kissed her hard, letting her words soothe him. Wanting to believe them. Hell, he wanted to wallow in them. And with Alexis at his side, maybe—just maybe—he finally could.

She lost herself in his kiss, her fingers twined in his hair, her tongue lost in his mouth. Right then, he was her entire world; there was nothing else she needed. Not food, not drink. Just this man. Just his touch, his soft words, his sweet caresses.

His hands gripped her rear, urging her toward him. The length of his erection pressed against her, and she heard his moan of pleasure and felt her body respond, warm and needy. Desperate, she clutched at his shirt, her fingers boldly flicking his buttons open, her hands stroking his chest. She wanted to claim him and be claimed, and then she wanted to beg for more.

After a moment he broke their kiss, smiling down at her with eyes that reflected the depths of her own desire. “Alexis.” He spoke her name as if it was a benediction, a request, a plea. She nodded, answering yes, yes to it all.

“My bed.” She forced the words out, then tugged him upstairs.

The room was dark, illuminated only by wavering light from the pool that came in through the open drapes, making sensual shadows move across the wall.

“I want to touch every inch of you. I want to claim you,” he said. “You’re mine, Alexis. Don’t ever doubt it.”

“I won’t,” she said, trying to speak above the rapid beat of her heart.

His hands stroked her, fingers clutching at her shirt and tugging it off. “I’ve craved this. Craved you. The feel of you. The heat of you.” And she was hot. Her skin felt bathed in sunlight, tingly and aware and in desperate need of the quenching, soothing satisfaction of his touch.

“Please,” she begged, pressing his palm to her breast. “Don’t wait.”

He groaned with desire, his hand stroking her nipple, then caressing her so gently she thought she would go insane with need. Methodically, his hands slid down, sliding under the waist of the sweatpants she’d pulled on. She drew in a breath, her mind in a haze, and before she knew it she was naked beside him.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered as he caressed her hip, his touch causing sparks of desire to rocket through her, priming her body, making her desperate, itchy, and oh so ready.

He stripped as she watched, enjoying the view and taking pleasure in the knowledge that this magnificent man wanted her. That he was hers—because the truth was she didn’t doubt that. They fit together, and despite everything that should be pushing them apart, she knew with a certainty as basic as the need to breathe that what was between them was real and solid and special.

“Now,” she said when he was back beside her. She took his hand and pressed it against her sex.

His finger slid inside her and she arched up.

“More,” she begged, as he shifted, his body covering and claiming her, heat ricocheting through her as his
mouth closed over her nipple, sucking and teasing and taking her so close that her entire being seemed to teeter on the edge of a magnificent precipice.

She reached down, lifting her hips and guiding him to her. With a low growl of pleasure, he thrust inside as she rose to meet him, her body so ready for him, so hungry and desperate that she clung to him like a wild thing, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as her hips pistoned in rhythm with his thrusts until finally, sweetly, her orgasm exploded through her, a cacophony of light and sparks and undiluted pleasure. He clung to her, his own climax following hers, drawing it out, making the pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable.

“Alexis,” he said, saying her name with all the reverence of a prayer.

She curled up against him, sated and satisfied. She never wanted to leave his arms. “We make a good team,” she said, twisting a bit so she could see him.

“We do indeed.” His eyes crinkled as he inspected her, then he sat up and held out his hand to tug her up, too. “I have an idea. Come on.”

“Come on? I’m naked. Where are we going?”

“You have weapons? A place where you work and train?”

She’d slid out of bad and was pulling on her T-shirt and underwear. “Yeah. Why?”

“You’ll see. Come on.”

She led him downstairs, feeling a sense of smug satisfaction when he released a low whistle. “I’m impressed.”

“Thanks. I’ve worked hard.”

“Show me your weapons. Particularly that spring-loaded device you have hidden in your jacket.”

She had no idea what he was thinking about, but she
did as he asked. He looked at the device—which was really a contraption she attached to her arms and then concealed with the jacket. “Nice,” he said. “Want to make it better?”

“Better how?”

“Responsiveness for one. Aim and power for the rest. Especially power. Get it to deploy faster and harder and you won’t have the problem you had with Mitre. He was in position when you moved to release, but by the time the device triggered he’d shifted. Shave a second off that, and you would have nailed him.”

She tilted her head as she looked at him. “And you can do that?”

His grin was defiantly arrogant and completely sexy. “And a whole lot more.”

“All right. Show me.”

He did, and after less than thirty minutes of tweaking, tightening, and shifting various components of the device, he’d done exactly what he promised.

“Not bad,” she said. “You might be handy enough to keep around.”

“I think I can earn my keep. What else have you got?”

She eased closer and hooked her arms around his waist. “Honestly? I can think of about a dozen things. But would you think less of me if I told you that killing vampires isn’t actually at the forefront of my mind right now?”

“No? What are you thinking about?”

She didn’t bother to answer. Instead she lifted herself up on her toes, pressed her mouth against his, and showed him.

They made love again, this time faster. Rougher. As if it had been years since they’d touched and not minutes.

Serge didn’t believe in soul mates—at least he never had before. But with Alexis in his arms, he had to admit that he was beginning to understand. Maybe the fact that he’d been hunting rogues really had earned him redemption. Hell, maybe the woman in his arms was his reward.

“You’re quiet,” she said, raising herself up on her elbow so that she could look more directly at him. “Is that your subtle way of telling me that you want to go to sleep?”

He let her words wash over him. He’d never believed that he’d find heaven. How miraculous that he’d found it in a woman. “Absolutely not.”

“Good, because I was prepared to take drastic measures to keep you awake.”

“Were you?”

“I had an entire devious plan worked out,” she said.

“In that case, I’m exhausted. I’ve got to get some sleep.”

“You just want to know my devious plan,” she said.

“Caught.”

“You definitely are,” she said, reaching down and circling his cock with her hand. “The plan started something like this,” she said, then stroked him in long, slow movements designed to make him more than a little crazy. Step two was designed to take him from crazy to insane, and she accompanied the slow movements with soft kisses.

Step three took him to the edge.

Her mouth closed over him, stroking and teasing, drawing him out, pulling him closer and closer, until he
had no choice but to let go, twine his fingers into her hair, and surrender to ecstasy.

He held her after, and then they both laughed when her stomach growled. “You make me forget to eat,” she said, pushing herself up to a sitting position.

“I’ll get it,” he said. “What do you want?”

“I think there’s a bowl of fruit in the refrigerator.”

“Stay right there.” He headed toward the door, but paused after only a few steps, his attention drawn to the line of family photos on her dresser, particularly the one in the middle. A waif of a girl with large eyes and a wide smile on her face. She looked about sixteen and was wearing a cheerleader outfit. There was something so strangely familiar about her …

“Serge? Are you still here?”

“Sorry. I noticed your pictures. Who’s the cheerleader?”

“Cheerleader? Oh! That’s Tori. That’s my sister.” He heard the pain in her voice. “That was Halloween, about two months before she ran away.”

“Your sister?” His voice sounded flat, because he realized why the girl in the photograph looked familiar.

She had fuchsia hair that had been coated with so much gel it stood out from her head like railroad spikes, and most likely with as much strength. Her skin was so pale her freckles appeared to float in front of her, as if leading the way. Dark shadows rimmed her eyes, accentuated by the thick line of kohl. She wore a white tank top with no bra, through which he could see quarter-sized brown nipples on breasts that would have been more appropriate on a thirteen-year-old. Hip-hugger-style
jeans shifted on her body as she moved, as if trying to find some actual hip to in fact hug
.

“You into suck or puncture?” she asked. “Oh, and I guess John-O told you my rates, right? And I don’t do more than two pints. Makes me too damn woozy, you know?”

Considering he doubted she had two pints of blood in her entire tiny body, he certainly did imagine
.

“I make my living selling this,” she said, gesturing to her body. “Pretty much any way you want it. I don’t do drugs, and if you want a fuck, you gotta put some jammies on your hammie. But that’s about as safe as I get, you know? I mean, hell, if I wanted to play it safe, I coulda got a job waiting tables. Let some wanker grab your tits, and he’ll double the tip, too.”

He’d been lost then, the daemon tormenting him, gathering strength, and though he had no memory of the actual act, he was certain that he’d been the one who’d killed her.

He’d killed Alexis’s sister.

Finding Alexis wasn’t a gift—it was a goddamn punishment. Bringing him so close to a woman who made his heart swell for the first time in centuries, only to find out that the vampire she was hunting—the one she’d rearranged her entire life to find and to kill—was
him
.

“Serge?” Alexis sat up, alarmed. He was just standing there, his back to her, his body frozen. “Serge, are you okay?”

After a moment, he turned and looked at her with haunted eyes.

“What is it?” She got out of bed and went to him. “Is it your daemon? The beast?”

He laughed, hard and bitter. “The daemon? Yeah, you could say that.”

She didn’t understand what was going on, and she cast about her room, trying to figure out what had happened as cold fingers of fear clutched at her. Everything had been fine until he’d gotten out of bed and then asked about Tori’s picture—

Tori
.

Her stomach twisted as trepidation rose. Surely not …

But it made sense. Oh, dear God, it all made sense. She’d gone after Tori’s killer in that alley and Serge had been there, too, hidden above her.

The world seemed to turn to red and then gray. Her knees gave out and she started to fall. He was there, then, moving to her side in a flash, holding her up.