Twilight Guardians

Killian was eager, but he was also nervous. He was playing with fire, and he knew it. If he let things go too far....

  But he wouldn’t. He just wouldn’t. Last night, making love to her inside her mind, God, it had been...it had been incredible. But it had only left him wanting more.

  He’d hiked to the nearest gas station, cleaned up in the public restroom, changed into a fresh set of clothes from the oversized backpack that held all his worldly possessions. And then he waited in the edge of the woods for Charlie to come out.

  She did, eventually. Twenty minutes later than she’d emerged the night before and just when he’d begun to wonder if she would even show. She came out of the cabin’s little door, closing it slowly and quietly, and then looking around for him.

  He gave himself a moment just to savor her. She was so beautiful standing there beneath the starry sky. Her hair was a wavy bronze cascade, falling far past her shoulders. Her eyes were as blue as topaz tonight, their onyx centers expanded against the darkness. Her essence was unfolding, her sense of who and what she was, expanding and evolving right before his eyes, becoming even more.

  He’d seen her soul, felt it. He knew her, inside and out, already. They were connected, and it wasn’t just because she was one of The Chosen. His kind would always be drawn to hers. But not like this. Never like this.

  He stepped out of the sheltering boughs of the sugar pines, then waited there until she spotted him. Her smile came instantly, and he felt the rush of joy and anticipation as she hurried forward, slowing when she neared her grandmother’s trip line and stepping carefully over it, then continuing to him again.

  She didn’t slow down until she was standing inches from him. Then she stared up and right into his eyes, and he prayed she could not see what he was. Please, he thought, just let me look–and let me feel–perfectly normal to her.

  He had no way to judge things except by watching her face and listening to her thoughts. She was feeling nervous. Aroused, attracted, hot for him, and nervous as hell. She didn’t say anything for a long moment, but then she did. “I’ve been thinking about you all day, and I don’t even know why.” But she did know why. And so did he.

  “Me too,” he said.

  “It doesn’t make any sense, does it?” she asked. “We don’t even know each other.” She needed to know if he felt the same. He heard the question emanating from her heart.

  He was devouring her with his eyes. The curve of her cheek, the dimples when she smiled, which she was doing now, in a wistful, questioning sort of way. She had the most amazing lips. Thick and full and bow shaped. He wanted to kiss them.

  I want him to kiss me, she thought, and he heard it.

  “Maybe we’re meant to be,” he said.

  “Do you really believe in that sort of thing? Love at first sight?”

  “I didn’t used to.”

  She lowered her head to hide the blush that colored her cheeks, but she couldn’t contain her smile.

  “I dreamed about you last night,” she said softly.

  “You going to give me the details?”

  She lifted her head, then shook it. “I think I’d better not.” But her teasing smile died slowly, and her eyes turned smoky.

  “Maybe you could show me instead.” He slid one hand around her nape, underneath her hair, his thumb remaining just below her jawline, where he could feel the strong, rapid beat of her pulse. Blood rushed beneath her skin like a river, and a wave of hunger swept over him. Quickly, he closed his eyes, in case they glowed red with the bloodlust and gave him away. And then he lowered his head and pressed his mouth gently to hers.

  She tipped her head back and parted her lips to deepen the kiss, twisted her arms around his neck as if she would hold him to her forever. He wrapped her up tight, pressing his body against hers, and kissing her harder, hungrier, deeper, all the while warning himself to be careful. Not to go too far.

  Already, he was trembling with need. When her hips arched into his, it was almost too much to bear, and he had to tear his mouth away. He cradled her head to his chest, though, keeping her close and unable to see his eyes.

  “It’s powerful, whatever it is between us,” she whispered. “I felt you, Killian. Before I even saw you out here lurking in the trees like some kind of gorgeous peeping Tom.”

  She was a little breathless, and he knew the kiss had set her on fire as much as it had him. He had to get it under control, though. It shouldn’t be this difficult. He’d fed, so he wasn’t hungry for sustenance. But he was hungry for her.

  Starving.

  She pulled back to look up at him, but he pressed her head to his chest again. “Give me a minute,” he said.

  So she relaxed against him. “I get to you, huh?”

  “More than you know.”

  She nodded against his chest then pulled free and walked away. He almost panicked, but she went only a few steps then stopped with her back to him. “This is moving so fast. I don’t even know anything about you.”

  And you don’t know the truth about me, she thought, and he heard it. And you have to. It’s not fair, otherwise.

  Killian found it ironic that she was worried about what he didn’t know about her.

  “How did you end up...homeless?” she asked.

  He smiled. “I’ve never thought of myself as homeless.” Walking up beside her, he took her hand, and they walked to the giant tree he’d used for cover, venturing into its drooping boughs like walking through a pine-scented curtain and continuing to the trunk. Then she turned and sat down with her back against it, knees up, and patted the spot beside her.

  He sat close to her, so close they were touching, from their shoulders, to their hips, to their thighs to their knees. One arm around her shoulder, pillowing her head with his, he relaxed there with her and tried to get a grip on himself. “I used to have an entire apartment building in L.A. I had a lot of friends who needed places to bunk, so I bought it for us.”

  She lifted her brows. “You just bought a whole building?”

  He nodded. “But it burned down. So....” He just shrugged and let the word hang there.

  “What is it that you...do? I mean, if you can afford to just buy a whole building in L.A.–”

  “I’m not rich. I hold a few patents. Royalty checks come quarterly. My living expenses are small, so mostly it just piles up in the bank until I need it for something.”

  She was watching his face, clearly fascinated by his words. “You’re an inventor? What did you invent? Tell me, I have to know.”

  He shrugged. “A mechanical prosthetic hand for amputees. A motorized walker that works as well on uneven terrain as it does on solid surfaces and helps patients move with less effort. A charger that plugs into a car’s cigarette lighter for recharging electric scooters. A–”

  “It’s all stuff for disabled people.” She tilted her head to one side. “Why?” She was truly curious and interested and impressed. He almost regretted that the only life he could tell her about was the one he’d left behind. He could tell her almost nothing about his new life. The life of endless night.

  “I used to work in a rehab facility,” he said, and he felt the past coming back to him. “It seemed like every day I saw the need for some kind of equipment that didn’t exist yet. The ideas were coming at me too fast to ignore. So I started drawing up designs and building prototypes. I wound up selling several of them to big medical supply companies.”

  The look in her eyes would’ve made his ego swell large enough to be seen from the moon, except that he knew it wasn’t deserved. He hadn’t built anything in years. He wasn’t that Killian Garone any longer.

  “What about you?” he asked, to shift the topic back. There was something she wanted to tell him. Something she thought he had to know.

  She shrugged but averted her eyes a little. “Not much to tell.”

  “Sure there is. Like, why are you out here with your grandmother, and where were you before this?” He already knew, but it seemed a sa
fe topic of conversation. He didn’t want to leave her side, but he had to resist having sex with her, because he knew where it could lead. He wanted to taste her blood, to feel the life force of her flowing through his veins. He wanted to imbibe her, to take her into him, to possess her that thoroughly. If they had sex outside of the dream realm, that was exactly what would happen.

  Sighing, she relaxed her head on his shoulder once again, snuggling close. “I lived with my mom before this. We have an apartment in Portland. I work at the Rent-A-Center. Have ever since I finished high school. I always knew I’d do something more, something bigger, but I was kind of waiting to figure out what. I’ve never really done much of anything.”

  “Why not?” he asked, watching her face, feeling her emotions as she spoke. Regret. Lots and lots of regret.

  “Mainly because my mother has always treated me like I’d shatter in a strong wind. Overprotective.” She took a deep breath, sighed heavily. “I have this rare blood thing. The Belladonna Antigen. Do you know what that is?”

  He thought it would seem odd if he did. It was rare. But he didn’t want to lie to her. “Tell me.”

  “Well, it means if I ever need blood, it’s going to be hard to find a donor. BDs can only receive transfusions from other BDs, and there are only a few thousand of us worldwide.”

  And vampires, he thought. They could take blood from vampires, though not in the usual way. “That’s gotta be scary for you.”

  “More scary for my mom than for me. The antigen messes up clotting factors, so if I get a bad cut, I could bleed to death pretty easily. She’s practically kept me in bubble wrap my entire life.”

  “Do you blame her?” he asked.

  “No. I did, but...I only just learned there’s more to it than I knew. Most people who have this condition...don’t live to see middle age.”

  He kept his head down, unsure how to react. Feigning surprise seemed too dishonest, but the thought of her death filled him with so much sadness that he didn’t need to fake that.

  “Before whatever is happening between us goes any further, I thought you should know that, Killian. I’m not going to be around, long term.”

  “You can’t be sure of that.”

  “Sure enough,” she said.

  “No. Your grandmother has it, too, and she’s–”

  She shot him a look then, her eyes first widening in surprise then narrowing in something else. Suspicion? “How do you know my grandmother has it too?”

  “When I overheard you two talking before–when I first heard your voice.”

  “We didn’t mention that.” She sat up straighter, as if no longer content to sit so close to him.

  “Then you must have mentioned it last night.”

  “I’m pretty sure I didn’t.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure you did,” he countered, trying to sound a little offended that she was so doubtful. The best defense, after all....

  Her frown eased, she exhaled and rolled her eyes. “Hell, maybe I did. Honestly, I don’t know. The past few days have been....” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess.”

  “It’s all right.” He hated making her doubt herself, but damn that had been close.

  “My grandmother is the oldest living person with the Belladonna Antigen. She says no one knows why.” Shrugging her shoulders, she said, “I keep hoping I’ve got more of her genes than my father did–I never knew him, and he died very young. But I can’t count on it. I just figured you should know that.” She watched his face, awaiting his reaction. “So there you have it. I’m going to start getting weak and tired and feeling like shit in a few years, and then I’m going to croak. Not that being with me now means you’ll still be with me then, but it could happen early. I didn’t think it was fair not to tell you.”

  “It doesn’t scare me away from you, Charlie. Is that what you were thinking would happen?” It was. He already knew it was.

  “Yeah,” she said. “That’s what I thought would happen.”

  “Well, you can relax now. I’m not going anywhere.”

  She turned, smiled up at him, slid her fingers into his hair and kissed him again. And he kissed her back, and it turned into more as she turned her body toward his and traced his lips with her tongue.

  He pulled back before she could go further, so she wouldn’t feel his razor sharp incisors, and slid his mouth over her jaw, and then down to her neck. Huge mistake. Huge. He tasted the salt of her skin, and her pulse thrummed powerfully against his lips. He warned himself to be careful, to move away from that spot. He even managed to do it, too, holding her close as he eased them both away from the tree trunk so they could stretch out on the ground, even while telling himself that was a bad idea, too.

  And then he was kissing her neck again, and her collarbones, and the upper part of her chest, above the little pajama top. Blue tonight. He nudged its thin strap off one shoulder with his mouth.

  She pushed his chest, and he lifted himself off her, thinking this was it. She was stopping him and it was a good thing, because if they’d gone any further....

  But instead of scurrying away, she just sat up a little and peeled the top right over her head. He knelt there, staring at her breasts, and he thought his eyes were watering.

  Then her hands came to his head and she pulled him back to her again.

  They kissed like they were starving for each other, and he stopped worrying about the razor edged length of his incisors, because passion was pounding in every part of his body and mind. He pulled off his own shirt before he could think better of it, and then they were lying skin to skin, were grinding against each other, lost in a haze of desire.

  He pulled his mouth away, kept his eyes sealed, felt the fire glowing in them, the fire she must not see, and panted, “If we don’t stop now–”

  “If we stop now, I’ll die,” she said, breathless, her skin hot to the touch. “I dreamed of this.”

  “So did I,” he admitted.

  “I want to make it real.”

  “You don’t know–”

  “Then show me.” She shimmied her pajama pants off without even moving out from under him, and then her hands were on his jeans, freeing the button, shoving them down over his hips.

  “Dammit, Charlie, I can’t–”

  “Shut up,” she whispered. She pulled him until he lay on top of her, naked now, and she was aching for him. He felt it. “I don’t know how many years I have to live, Killian. But from now on, I’m damn well gonna live them.” She wrapped her legs around his back, using them to press him closer.

  He resisted for a solid three seconds, and then he let himself go, lowering his naked chest to hers, nestling his hips between her thighs, his erection finding its way naturally inside her. She gasped, and he tipped his head back, baring his teeth as passion and pleasure and need rocketed through him, all of them intensifying the bloodlust until it was beyond bearable.

  Release in his kind, came in two ways. The usual one, and the sinking of fangs into flesh, the first swallow of the essence of life itself. And as his body strained toward the one, he was irresistibly pulled by the other.

  She was straining too, and he felt it, her pleasure, the slow tensing of every muscle in her body, coiling ever tighter as her nails raked his back, and her teeth nipped his shoulder. She flung her head back, arching the length of her beautiful pale throat up toward him.

  He was on the precipice, staring down at the strong powerful pulse in her neck. And just as he tried to turn his head away, her fingers threaded into his hair and jerked him down until his mouth was at her throat, and she was burying her face in his hair to muffle her cries of pleasure.

  He felt her climax around him, and that was the end of his control. The lust took over. He drove into her hard and sank his fangs into her neck at the same time. The taste of her, the rush of her blood over his tongue–God, it hit him like heroin as he pumped into her, his entire body suffused in the most intense pleasure he had ever experienced.
>
  A sip. A taste of her, was all he allowed. As his senses returned, he pulled away, shocked at what he’d done, averting his head, wiping at his mouth just in case. And then he looked down at her. At the two tiny punctures in her throat, and the tiny rivulet of blood that had run from one of them. She wouldn’t bleed out. Not from those wounds. The bite of a vampire could not harm one of The Chosen, unless of course, one drank them dry. He didn’t know why, only knew it was true. He hoped she would go straight to bed when she went back inside. He prayed she wouldn’t look into a mirror and see those marks and know what he was.

  Maybe he should tell her.

  Maybe he should get away from her before she told her grandmother and the authorities what and where he was.

  He fell back onto the ground, blinking up at the undersides of the lush pine boughs, covering them as completely as a dome tent would do. “I didn’t mean for things to go that far.”

  “I did,” she whispered, rolling onto her side and hugging him around the waist. “I can’t explain it, Killian, but I’ve been dreaming of you for weeks. And last night...it was so real. I don’t know what this is, but it feels even stronger now than before.”

  “Sex creates a bond.” And sharing blood, an even stronger one.

  “I think I might love you,” she whispered. I’m sure of it, her heart sang.

  He ran a hand over her hair. “I think I might love you back.”

  She sat up a little, smiling down at him, then jumped to her feet and rapidly pulled her pajamas on again. He could not take his eyes off her. She was glowing. And those damn marks on her neck. They would fade, of course, at the first kiss of sunlight. But until then, there they were, banners proclaiming his guilt and lack of self-control. He should’ve told her.

  “I have to go,” she whispered. “Tomorrow night? And really, we should use some protection next time.”

  He bit his lip, nodded slowly. Male vampires were sterile, disease free, but she had no way of knowing that. “I’ll take care of it.”

  She’d finished dressing. He got up to his feet, naked, to say goodbye, and told himself it should be that. Goodbye. But who was he kidding? He couldn’t walk away from her if he tried.

  She pressed her body to his and tipped her head back, and he kissed her long and slow, like something out of an old movie. Then, smiling, she turned and hurried back to the cabin.

  Killian held his head in his hands and whispered, “What have I done?”