And all the while, he watched her, his eyes looking up from where he was, his hands cupping her breasts.
She was expecting him to stop so that she had time to dress.
No. He kept going, licking up to the top of her sex, lolling his tongue around, giving her every opportunity to see what he was doing to her, showing off as he flicked at her, his pink flesh moving quickly. . . .
Punching at the pillows, she stretched herself against the heat and the thrill of it.
And still he continued.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, it registered that he was doing this not just to pleasure her, but to bank the memories in his mind: His eyes never left her, his peridot stare capturing her face, her throat, her breasts, her belly.
"Trez . . ." she moaned, arching up.
When he finally released her core, he reared over her body and all but ripped off his clothes. As his shirt went fluttering to the floor and his pants were treated with no concern at all as he yanked them off, she smiled.
She was so ready for him.
He brought her knees up with his dark hands, bending her legs and moving them out to the sides gently. And then he gripped his erection and brought the head of it to the center of her need. Stroking her, he went up and down, glossing himself as he stared at where the two of them were about to be joined.
Pressing inside, he retreated and came at her again, his palm doing the work more than his hips. And each time he popped free, he bit down on his lower lip, his fangs compressing the flesh that had worshiped her.
For some reason, she thought about all her training as an ehros. She had been prepared to do her duty, had even been curious about the act, but these experiences with him, the choice to have him, the joy at giving herself not out of some trained obligation, but because she loved him and only him, was so much grander and more glorious than anything her station might have prepared her for.
Eventually, his control snapped and he groaned, sinking into her to the hilt. Propping himself up on his hands, he moved above her, his eyes traveling around her face until he dropped his head and kissed her.
Soon, his pumping became hard and fast, and she stretched her arms out, stroking his lower back, his buttocks, his hips.
As he started to climax, she fell still and felt him orgasm.
It went on for the longest time, his gasping breath, his groans, the sound of her name being wrenched from him as if his soul were being torn apart. And still his hips moved and his sex stroked, and then once again she was coming along with him.
When he collapsed on top of her, she wrapped her arms around him. He was so big, she could barely make it up onto his back, much less have her hands meet at his spine.
He was panting into her hair. Into her throat.
"I love you so much," was all he said.
SIXTY-TWO
Maichen sneaked into the ritual chamber and checked on her mother before she tried to leave the palace once again. The Queen was still sitting in her mourning pose, her robes now red after having been changed by staff from those she had had on the night before.
All appeared well for another escape.
Tiptoeing across the marble, she headed for the cupboard in the corner, opening the door and--
"Did you think I would not know it was you," came the words in the Shadow dialect.
maichen froze.
"You have fooled them all, but not me. I know my own flesh."
Shutting the cupboard door, maichen fell into the posture of greeting, placing both hands on her shoulders so her arms crossed over her chest, and then lowering herself to her knees and prostrating her torso.
"My Queen."
"I have allowed you your freedom around the palace."
"Thank you, my Queen," she said to the marble floor.
"Do not abuse my good nature."
"I shall not, my Queen."
"I believe you already have."
"My devotion, as my service, is to you and you alone."
"I can have another of you if I wish. You are as replaceable as anything else in this world of mine. Never forget that I am the sun around which this galaxy spins, and I can alter your destiny with the blink of an eye."
Her mother's head turned toward her, the red robing twisting around as if she were some kind of evil creature. And then AnsLai, the high priest, and the Chief Astrologer stepped into the room from a hidden door across the way.
Beneath her robes, maichen began to shake, and for self-preservation, she blocked her mind by repeating the word maichen over and over again in her head. If her mother or those two advisers got into her thoughts and recent memories, she feared not only for her own life, but for iAm's.
How had her mother known?
"I shall excuse myself and go worship, Your Holiness," she said, as she would have if she were but a servant.
"You do that. And you might contemplate the fragility of life whilst you are in your state of reverence."
maichen ran out of the sacred room and escaped through the halls to her own cell. As she closed herself in, she was breathing hard, her lungs burning, her hands shaking as she tore the hood from her head.
She had been spared, she realized, only because her mother found the appearance of propriety more valuable than punishing a daughter who had gone on a wander: if it got out that the Princess had been compromised by interacting with commoners, or even Primaries, it would not reflect well on the Queen.
For a moment, maichen contemplated staying in her rooms, but she wasn't going to get many other nights like this. The mourning was ending soon with a s'Hisbe-wide ceremony where the Primaries and the general population would join in the Queen's up-until-now private "pain."
After that? Especially given that her mother was aware of her forays around the palace and the fact that she was to be mated? Leaving the Territory was going to become impossible.
Likely, she would find it difficult to even leave her suite of rooms.
She had to see iAm, especially if it was one last time.
Extinguishing the lighting overhead, she took off the jewelry at her throat and upon her wrists and left it on her bedding platform. As the with the prior night, she had informed her staff she needed privacy and would summon them at her leisure.
So she had some time.
Closing her eyes, she . . .
...spirited away, finding the ventilation shafts and using them to gain access to the great outdoors.
She was not unfamiliar with where Caldwell was. She had seen maps. But the reality of finding the city and locating one particular housing unit within it struck her as craziness.
Except then she homed in on the echo of her own self, her own blood. It was so much louder than she'd expected, a veritable beacon that led her into the dense buildings of the metropolis, those high spires of glass and steel that were as a man-made forest amid a landscape of asphalt and brick and restricted greenery.
Following the signal, she found herself zeroing in on a certain terrace among many others on one of the taller constructions--and upon her arrival, she did not reassume her form. She remained as a Shadow, pooling on a shallow porch-like function before a wall of glass.
Inside the living space beyond, iAm looked up as if instantaeously aware of her presence. Coming forth, he opened one of the massive panes by sliding it off to the side.
"You came," he said.
Rising up from a loose collection of molecules, she became corporeal. It was only then that the frigid breeze from off the river down below penetrated her robes, flipping them to and fro as it chilled her to the bone.
"Inside," he told her. "Let's get you warm."
She didn't know what to say as she stepped over the threshold and the gusts were extinguished as he closed them in together.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
How he could read her so well with her mesh in place, she did not know.
And indeed . . . she had to tell him her truth. Even though it was going to spoil everything b
etween them--how could it not? She had seduced him, and he had been the one to take her first, not his brother. She was also the female who, by his own admission, he had hated for so long, the reason for the ruination of his brother's life.
"maichen?"
She studied him for the longest time, trying to find the words. How did she start? And why had she wasted the daylight hours fantasizing about him, when she should have been preparing to reveal herself?
She needed a moment further to think.
"There is naught," she said, keeping her voice level as she started to walk around. "How lovely this is."
At least the latter was not a lie. Everything was honey gold upon the floors and white everywhere else, the furniture understated in the great open space, the view expansive and spectacular.
"Are you hungry?" he asked her--from very close.
Jumping, she looked over her shoulder. He was looming behind her, his body seemingly poised for something.
For sex.
But no, she told herself. They needed to talk. She had to reveal herself to him; otherwise the passion, on his side, was a disingenuous manipulation of which she was guilty.
"Are you," he growled softly as he stepped in against her body. "Hungry?"
Beneath her headdress, she licked her lips.
His hips rolled against her robing, what was no doubt a very hard, very thick erection pushing into the fabric that separated their bodies.
There would be time afterward, she told herself. She would tell him afterward.
The guilt was strong. The lust was stronger.
"I am," she breathed. "But not for food."
As if he read her mind, the lighting which rained down from the ceiling went out, effectively eclipsing them from any external viewers.
"I'm going to take that off," he gritted, as if he hated her hood.
Abruptly, she was freer to breathe, see, smell.
The purr that percolated up out of his chest was that of an animal, but his hands were not harsh as he reached for her over-robe. Up and off her head the weight went, and then the lighter sheath beneath disappeared.
And she was naked before him.
His hands worshiped her as he ran them over her shoulders and down to her breasts. Bringing them together and up, he tasted one nipple and then the other, lapping, sucking--and oh, it was too good. Her legs went loose, and as if sensing this, he swung her up off her feet and carried her out of the light and airy room, down a hallway, and into a bedroom with a large raised mattress platform that proved to be as soft as a cloud.
"This is how I wanted it last night," he said as he laid her out.
There was a light on in some small room, perhaps one with water facilities, and thanks to the dim illumination, she could revel in the obsessional nature of his expression: He regarded her with such rapt focus, she felt beautiful without his having to utter a word to that effect.
His broad palms swept down her legs. "I want to know all of you."
"I offer my body to you," she said hoarsely. "Do as you wish with me."
*
Rhage was halfway across the Hudson River, heading for the other side of Caldwell in his GTO, when that feeling of being suffocated and light-headed hit him like a ton of bricks.
Swallowing a shot of bile, he cracked his window and turned off the heater. Didn't help. About a mile later, he nearly pulled off to the side of the road.
"Get it together, ass-wipe."
Fucking pussy. What the hell was his problem? He was uninjured, looking forward to cracking the case with Assail and his mirror-image cousins, and on the way to see his beloved shellan in his very favorite car. Life was as good as it could get.
He just needed to get a grip.
On that note, he tightened his hold on the steering wheel and started tapping his free shitkicker, the one that was not on the gas.
So close now. He was so close.
Maybe he just needed to hold his Mary for a little bit.
Havers's clinic had been moved to this new, state-of-the-art location, and Rhage had been to visit only a couple of times: Once when he'd gotten an abdominal wound that wasn't going to wait to head all the way back to the Brotherhood compound. Another when Mary had needed a pickup after attending to a female and her young son. Maybe a third time. He couldn't remember.
When he finally got to the turnoff, he cursed at the breathlessness. At the rate he was going? He was going to need treatment.
Maybe he had a virus. Vampires didn't get human ones, or cancer--thank God--but they could get taken down by colds and flu that affected members of the species.
Yeah, that was probably it.
Had to be.
As the GTO's headlights finally splashed across a dull, unassuming little concrete-block structure, he felt the whatever-it-was ease off a bit, which was a welcome surprise. At least he wouldn't have to see his Mary with him lookin' all wall-eyed weird.
Getting out, he went around to the trunk and sprang the deep purple panel.
The sight of Mary's duffel bag, which he himself had packed, brought back the symptoms: His head swam and his palms got sweaty--like he wasn't standing in the cold wind with nothing but leathers and a muscle shirt on.
"Enough with this bullcrap." He picked up the handles and lifted the bag out; then reshut things. "You've got to get your shit together."
Approaching the low-slung building, he went into a nothing-special anteroom and checked in. A moment later, the elevator came up its shaft and opened for him. Like a lot of things that had to operate in the daylight by necessity, Havers's newest facility was completely subterranean, the upper part nothing but a prop to weed out valid visitors from potential problems.
Like humans. Slayers.
Down into the earth. Out into the waiting room. As he emerged into the reception area, he wondered how he was going to find her--
"Oh, God, you're here."
His Mary came at him like she was being chased, and as she jumped into his arms, he dropped the damn bag, closed his eyes and held her so hard it was a wonder she could still breathe. But, like she said, oh, God . . .
Her scent, her feel, her body, the way her arms wrapped around his neck and squeezed the ever-loving shit out of him--it was all like water in a desert, filling him up, soaking him with a nourishment that he had sorely missed, giving him back his strength and power.
"I've missed you so much," she said in his ear. "So, so, so much."
Not wanting to put her down, he bent and picked up her bag; then carried her and the duffel full of clothes to the far corner, away from the eyes of the receptionist.
Which were focused on them like the female was writing romantic dialogue in her head.
Whatever, he wasn't going to get pissy about it, but he didn't exactly want to broadcast his reunion to the world, either.
Settling his Mary in his lap, he ran his hands down her arms and then went in for a kiss, fusing his mouth with hers as a way to solidify the reconnection. He didn't trust himself, though--so he broke shit off fast.
Too much lip-to-lip and he was liable to mount her in public.
Oh, heeeeeey, Havers, how you doin'?
His Mary smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. "I feel like I haven't seen you in a year."
"Me, too, only it was a decade on my end."
Yeah, so what if he was a panting dog for her. Fuck ya.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"No, I'm wasting away to normal. I haven't eaten, I can't sleep, and I feel like someone has put itching powder in my jock strap."
She laughed. "That bad? Jeez, I shouldn't feel complimented, should I?"
Leaning in, he said softly, "And I've got carpal tunnel in my left wrist."
"From doing what?" she drawled.
"What do you think?" He nuzzled at her neck. Nipped her vein. "I've had to do something to keep busy in our mated bed. And the shower. And once in the pantry."
"In the pantry? Downstairs?"
"We had
baby new potatoes for Last Meal. They reminded me of you naked."
More of that laughter and he closed his eyes, letting the joy resonate in his hollow skull.
"How is that possible?" she asked.
"They look like breasts."
"They do not!"
"I didn't say they looked like good breasts." He kissed down to her collarbone. "Or your breasts, which, parenthetically, are the most perfect ones I will ever see. In my life. Or my afterlife. Or whatever comes after that."
"You're that desperate that you're triggered by carbohydrates."
"Aren't they a starch? And I jerked off twice in the pantry, actually. Because after I took care of things the first time, I realized I was standing next to the canned peaches." He surreptitiously inched his hand up her thigh. "And you can imagine what that got me thinking about."
Ohhhhh, yeah, he thought as her scent changed, her arousal super-charging the air around them.
Abruptly, he eased back. "Hey, you got a minute?"
She cleared her throat like she was trying to refocus. "Yes, sure. Is there anything wrong?"
"I just have to show you something out in my car."
"You took the GTO?"
"I had to bring your stuff, so I figured I'd take it for a drive."
"How nice." Getting to her feet, she stretched in a way that made him want to palm her breasts. "Actually, I'd love to get some real air for a second. I could use the break."
As they went past reception, he put the duffel on the counter. "Okay if we leave this here for about ten minutes?"
As the receptionist nodded, it appeared that something had gotten the better of her voice. And her sense of balance apparently, because as she went to sit back down, she nearly yard-saled it by falling off the side of her chair.
Over at the elevators, Mary whispered, "I think she likes you."
"Who?"
"The receptionist?"
Leaning down, he said back, "She might as well be a vacuum cleaner for all I care. And I mean that with all due respect."
As the doors opened, that small, secret smile on his Mary's face was a gift from God as far as he was concerned.
Up, up, up they went, and then they were outside and he was sheltering her with his body as he put his arm around her and led her over to the GTO. By some stroke of complete luck, he'd parked the car in a darkened patch, away from the security lights--and that was just perfect.
Opening the driver's-side door, he put the seat forward and indicated the way into the back.