Fallen Embers (9 page)

Relief flooded him and the tightness in his chest gave way to a feeling of warmth and ease. He nodded, a rueful smile on his lips. “Aye. 'Tis been a long time for me as well.”

They stared wordlessly at each other, hesitant, uncertain, as though neither of them knew quite how to proceed. Before the silence became too awkward, Georgia reached out and framed his face with her hand. Moving slowly, as though she were afraid to spoil the unexpected sweetness of the moment, she leaned in and brushed her mouth against his.

Moving just as cautiously, Quintano slid a hand around her waist to urge her even closer. She felt solid and warm as she settled against him. Then he kissed her back.

Their first kiss was soft, sweet, gentle, kind—things he barely recalled the words for, things he'd never thought to know again. He gathered her more fully into his arms, reveling in the feel of her, in the contentment that seemed to blossom in his soul. For the first time since his turning, he did not feel quite so much like an unreasoning beast. He felt almost human, almost like the man he used to be. The man he'd very nearly forgotten he had ever been. Lifting his head, he pulled back far enough to look her in the eye. “Conrad,” he told her.

Georgia regarded him blankly. “What's that?”

“My name. When I was a man, I was called Conrad.”

“Conrad,” she repeated softly. “Very well then, I shall not forget. Thank you for telling me. I'm honored to know it.”

Chapter Six

San Francisco, California

Present Day

Conrad finally had Damian exactly where he wanted him—in his bed, pinned beneath him, flushed, panting, begging for more.

“
Querido
, please,” Damian groaned, his eyes at half-mast, his voice thick, husky with need.

Conrad could not help but smile at the sound. It had been a long time since he'd heard that particular note of breathless desperation in Damian's voice, since he'd held Damian balanced on the edge of orgasm until all his defenses had crumbled and all his insouciance had fled. It had been a long time since Conrad had judged himself to be enough in control of his own furious needs to even dare it.

Perhaps his own pleasure was even sweeter now too, for having been so long delayed, but personally he doubted it. The love between them had always been this sweet and he had always known it. Being forced to deny himself had only made the years between then and now a hellish torture.

He swiped his tongue once more along the length of Damian's cock, then lifted his head and smiled innocently at Damian. “Yes,
charissimi
? Is there something you desire?”

“You,” Damian promptly answered, practically snarling the words. “
You're
what I desire, but you go too slow! I want you now,
damn it. ¡
Dámelo!
¡
Ahora!
”

“¿
Ahora?
” Conrad's smile turned mocking. “My, my, so hasty. And are you really attempting to order me? Surely you know better than that by now. Why, I've half a mind to slow things down even more, just to punish your presumption.”

“Bastard.” Damian bared his teeth in an angry growl. Then he closed his eyes and threw back his head, the perfect picture of frustrated desire. Or so it would have seemed, if not for the unmistakable gleam of satisfaction that shone within those eyes just before they were shuttered. It was all Conrad could do to keep from laughing out loud. Damian loved these little games as much as he did.

What pleased Damian most, even more than the physical pleasure, was the knowledge that Conrad's entire attention was focused on him, only him, always him. And though he never would admit it, Conrad loved it when Damian issued orders or made demands. Those little reminders that Damian, too, had a dominant side made his inevitable capitulation all the sweeter. The realization that Damian once again felt safe with him, that he felt confident and comfortable enough to ask for what he wanted without fear of reprisal—that was even better.

Most of all, Conrad loved the fact that his own inner beast was so securely reined in that it did no more than grumble half-heartedly at the supposed affront to his authority. Sweet. So very sweet. And to think, he'd once believed such pleasures were lost to him forever.

Still smiling, Conrad lowered his head to nip and suck at Damian's neck. He paid special attention to the scars he'd accidentally left there the night Damian had saved his life. Once, not so long ago, Conrad had made every effort to avoid these reminders of his own frailty—and Damian had made every effort to keep them hidden. Tonight, he wanted to pay homage to them. He wanted to celebrate the pain Damian had so willingly endured, the courage it had taken him to do so, the love.

He was fearless, this man to whom Conrad had given his heart, for that had not even been the first time Damian had shown himself willing to risk everything for Conrad's sake.

Conrad's emotions threatened to overwhelm him and, for a moment, he was so lost in feelings of love and gratitude and regret that he forgot his goal tonight was to tease, to torment Damian with pleasure, and bring him to his knees…metaphorically speaking for now and perhaps, before the night was over, literally as well. For the moment, however, all Conrad wanted to do was love the man.

Conrad slid a hand down along Damian's torso to grasp his shaft once more. He continued to lavish attention on Damian's neck and throat even as his hand set up a slow, steady rhythm.

“Conrad,” Damian moaned again, arching into Conrad's touch. “¡Oh,
si, si sigue!
¡
Mas rapido!
”

Conrad raised his head to smile down at him even as he allowed his hand to move faster over Damian's flesh. “Anything for you,
mi corazon
.”

Love blazed in Damian's eyes as they locked with Conrad's. Everything around them narrowed into that heated gaze. The world disappeared. Time stopped. The need for words evaporated. The look in Damian's eyes was everything Conrad needed. That look said
soy toda tuya
as clear as though
he'd spoken aloud.
I'm yours. I'm all yours.

But even as Damian stiffened and came, even as Conrad felt the splash of heat on his hand, the world intruded once again. Conrad started at the sound of someone knocking insistently at the door of his suite. Who would dare interrupt him at a time like this?

“¡
Demonios!
” Damian growled angrily. “This is insupportable. What could anyone be wanting from us at such a time?”

Conrad shrugged. “Who knows?” He licked absently at his hand, thrilling to the lingering taste of Damian's seed. “You stay here. I'll go see to it.”

“You will?” Damian's eyebrows rose. He stared at Conrad in disbelief, even as the knocking began again. “Oh, don't be absurd. I'll get up and deal with it, if you insist, although I don't see why we can't ignore it, just this once. I'm simply going to tell whoever it is to come back later anyway. Or tomorrow perhaps. Yes, that's much better. I'm sure tomorrow will be soon enough for whatever it is.”

“No,” Conrad replied as he climbed out of bed. “
You
will do as you're told.” Normally, he preferred to leave it to Damian to handle the more-or-less mundane matters pertaining to the running of his house, along with whatever minor nuisances happened to crop up from time to time. But that did not mean Conrad was not perfectly capable of handling things himself when he chose to. He glanced back at Damian and smirked. “I will go because I wish to do so, and
you
will stay right where you are, because I wish that too. I'm not yet done with you.”

“Ah.
Si, si,
señor
,” Damian answered, going so far as to wave Conrad out of the room—an impertinence for which he
would
pay.
“Off with you, then. ¡
Rapido!
”

¿
Rapido?
Conrad snagged his dressing gown from the hook on the bedroom door, still chuckling in disbelief. He shrugged into the robe as he made his way across the sitting room. Oh, yes. Damian would pay. And Conrad would take great pleasure in deciding exactly what form this payment would take. Damian's mouth on Conrad's cock, perhaps? Yes, that seemed like a good place to start.

He flung open the door just as Armand was raising his hand to knock again. “Well,
mon ami
? What is it you need?”

Armand's eyes widened in surprise as he took in Conrad's appearance. “Conrad…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you. I hadn't realized it was so late already. Should I…should I come back later?”

Conrad waved Armand's apology away. “No. No matter. You're here now. You might as well come in and tell me what it is you want.” It really wasn't that late and Conrad was feeling magnanimous. After all, he hadn't really lost anything. In fact, since the interruption—more of an
intermezzo
, really—had provided him with an imaginary score to settle with Damian, it had actually improved his evening. Damian on all fours, perhaps, or bent over the back of the couch. There were so many delightful possibilities to consider. And he did not even need to limit himself. Why not choose them all?

“Come in,” Conrad repeated when Armand continued to hover uncertainly in the doorway. “Sit down. Tell me what's on your mind.”

There was no reason to rush, after all. Let Damian stew. Let him wonder. Let him recoup a little of his energy; he was going to need it.

Armand followed him back into the sitting room. “I'd like your permission to leave,” he said at last, when they were both seated in chairs by the hearth.

Conrad blinked in surprise. “But you only just got here.”

“I mean…I wish to leave San Francisco. Possibly the country.”

Conrad felt his good mood begin to dissipate. “Why? What has happened?”

Armand shrugged. “Nothing really. Nothing new, anyway. I just thought that perhaps a change of pace, or scenery, or whatever you want to call it, would do me good. Like a…like a vacation, of sorts.”

“A vacation?” Vampires were creatures of habit, as Conrad knew all too well. More often than not, the various members of his family needed to be forced out of their ruts from time to time—usually by him.

The concept of vacation, however, was so recent an invention that Conrad still found it somewhat mystifying. One surrounded oneself with the people with whom one wished to spend one's time. And one established oneself in a suitable location where said time might be most pleasantly wiled away. How did one derive pleasure from the act of removing oneself from the very people and places that made life…pleasurable?

Armand sighed and looked away. “I apologize. That was a bad choice of words, perhaps. It's just that I've lived in this house for…well, for over half my life, really. And, I feel that I would like to get away from it for a while. Is that really so hard to understand?”

“Not at all. Where would you go?”

“Does it matter?”

Conrad's jaw clenched. Of course it mattered. He would not have asked otherwise. “Armand. Look at me.”

Armand met his gaze reluctantly.

“You know I would never force you to do anything you did not wish to do, unless of course it was clearly in your best interest. But I
would
like to know what this is all about. Something must be wrong.”

“Can't you guess?”

His expression was so woebegone, so hopeless, it could only be an
affaire de coeur
.
Conrad's heart sank. “I see. Does this have something to do with Julie?”

Armand nodded. He looked even more miserable as he lowered his head to gaze at his hands, which were locked between his knees. “I enjoy her company, as you know. And I didn't think you'd mind it too much if we spent some time together?”

Conrad sighed. “Of course not.” It was not that he minded. After all, what else had any of them to do but spend time with one another? But the situation
had
caused him a certain amount of worry. It was inevitable that the twins should fall in love at some point. He could hardly forbid them to do so, not that he'd really want to. They deserved to live full and happy lives. And love…well, when it wasn't breaking one's heart, there was surely nothing better than the feeling of being in love and being loved in return. But love was also fraught with danger. And, in the twins' case, that was especially so.

Protecting these most special of all his offspring must always be Conrad's first priority. Which meant that, someday, he might have to intervene. He might have to put a stop to Armand's relationship with Julie, by whatever means necessary. But he would
not
think about that tonight. He gestured for Armand to continue. “Go on.”

“I had hoped, once Brennan was out of the picture, that she might come to feel…more of an attachment for me.”

“And that has not happened?” Damian would be pleased, in any event. And even Conrad felt a small measure of relief. If it ended now, without either of them being hurt too badly—that was probably for the best. “I am sorry,
mon cher
. I suppose some things are just not meant to be.”

“No, it's not that exactly. She does care for me. It's just that…we're not on the same page yet, if you know what I mean. I want to be more to her than what I am at present—a few stolen kisses when she's between boyfriends, a shoulder to cry on when things go wrong. And now there's Christian to contend with and I just… I can't stay here any longer and do nothing about it. I don't want to have to wait out yet another infatuation.”

Conrad frowned. “I don't quite follow. What does any of this have to do with Christian?”

Armand went still in a way that put all of Conrad's senses on alert. “You knew they were spending time together…didn't you?”

“Yes, of course. She's been showing him around town, helping him to familiarize himself with the area. What of it?”

Armand shrugged. “It's probably nothing. Perhaps I shouldn't say anything more.”

Conrad arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps you should.”

“It's just that… Well, he said something tonight that disturbed me. Or, rather, it was something Julie repeated. She may have gotten it wrong, or perhaps I did. It's likely just hearsay.”

“What was said?”

“As I understand it, the gist of it was that he and Georgia are no longer intimate with one another; they're no longer a couple.”

“Ridiculous,” Conrad scoffed. “I've heard no such rumor.” And he would have, wouldn't he, if it were actually true?

It made no sense. Why would Georgia have insisted on having Christian here, if that were the case? She knew as well as Conrad did how potentially disruptive it would be to have them both under the same roof if their relationship was in a volatile stage.

It was a sad fact of life for those who lived forever, however deep and enduring it might seem, love was not a static thing. Any affair might fall upon hard times; witness his own difficulties, now happily resolved, with Damian. Perhaps that was why time and space existed in the first place—so that such matters might be peaceably resolved.

“As I said, I might have misunderstood.”

Conrad sighed. “Perhaps.” He rested his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. “But somehow I doubt that will turn out to be the case.” Armand was nothing if not perceptive. And, now that he thought about it, Georgia had been looking pale and unhappy lately—not at all her usual self.