Night Vision (37 page)

His words registered through a fog, and I let out a faint whisper.

“Geoffrey—Leo—my cousin…Rhia?”

“Shush, my sweet Cicely. You are still weak, and you burn with Blood Fever. Save your worries for later. Your cousin is safe, and so are your friends.”

In the haze of lust, my skin was so hot it felt like I was going to burn into a crisp, burn into a cinder. I fell silent. Vague images fluttered past—Grieve, my love, but even my heart couldn’t withstand the flame racing through my
veins. I thought I caught a glimpse of him, but then, in a flash, he was gone and I wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t.

The next thing I knew, we were traveling at blur-speed, and as I watched the walls rush by, I began to sweat. The Blood Fever was hitting, and hitting hard.

Blood Fever.
Whenever one of the still-living drank from a vampire without being turned, the blood boiled in the system, churning through the veins like a river of passion, driving mortals into raving nutcases. The only release, the only way to calm the blood, was to fuck your brains out—to ride the drive into submission. Primal forces were unleashed with Blood Fever, filling the body, overriding logic, overriding love.

We passed into the night; somehow we were in a car—Lannan’s limousine—and he laid me back against the seat, the leather creaking as he adjusted me beneath him. The smell was old, and moneyed, and I wondered how many times Lannan had fucked someone in this car.

He held me down, pinning my wrists over my head. “Move your hurt leg to the side,” he whispered.

I slid my left leg to the side so it was off the seat, bending my knee so my foot was braced against the floor. I was sweating, the glistening beads slowly trickling down my face, dripping onto my chest. All I could think about was how close his lips were to mine, how cold his hands were against my skin, how there was no rising and falling of breath from him. He had conquered death, and I hated him. And yet…and yet…I craved the force of his body against mine.

Lannan licked my neck, trailing his tongue down toward my breasts. “Salty. You’re salty. And your breath, it comes so hard. Panting, are we? Girl, you want me. I can feel it. And this time, I want to hear you say it. Beg me, Cicely. Beg me and I’ll give you
everything
.”

I shifted, my back sticking to the leather. My cunt ached so bad that I thought I’d never be satiated.

“I hate you,” I whispered.

“I know. Say it anyway.” His gaze fastened onto my own, and as he stared at me through those obsidian eyes, I fell into them, deep and dark, and tumbling down. I caught my breath, my pulse racing as the sweat continued to bathe us both, a baptism of passion.

“I want you. I want you…a part of me has always wanted you.” Hating myself as I said it, but realizing it was the truth, that there was some hidden darkness within me that drove me to him, that secretly hungered for his touch. Grieve owned me, heart and soul, but chemistry was chemistry, and something in Lannan spoke to a part of me that was broken and twisted and would never be fixed.

“I wish I could drink from you tonight,” he whispered, licking my neck. “I’m hungry for your blood. I want to taste you, but for now I don’t dare. Crawl wounded you deeply, and his venom is still within your system. But I’ll give you everything you want from me right now. And more.”

And then his lips covered mine, and the world fell into a long, dark hole where there was only steam rising between us, and the feeling of his hands on my wrists, of his mouth against mine, grazing my lips with his fangs. The kiss went on and on, as I let myself flow into the abyss in which my dark vampire lived.

The lights of the city were a blur as we passed through the snowy night, and the flutter of snowflakes bathed the road in a muffled silence. And all the way to his mansion, Lannan spun me out of myself, out of my head, into the dark fire that radiated from deep within him.

As we pulled to a stop, the driver opened the car door, and without a word, Lannan lifted me in his arms. I barely sensed the maid who opened the door, the dim lights of the sparkling chandelier, the scent of opium and incense that wafted out from the party room where Lannan and Regina played with their bloodwhores.

And then we were in what I thought was Lannan’s bedroom, the crimson walls reflecting the light from the Tiffany lamp in the corner. A sudden fear caught hold of me and I whimpered, but he shushed me and I fell silent,
totally in thrall. My body was burning, and I began to phase in and out.

Flash
…a glimpse of the Golden Boy, laying me out on the bed.
Flash
…the ceiling fan overhead spinning far too slowly, like slow thunder.
Flash
…the shedding of clothes, and I was naked and felt like I could finally breathe.
Flash
…I glanced down, a glimpse of the scars on the torn and rent flesh that Crawl had so lovingly given me.
Flash
…Lannan, standing there, tall against the silhouette of the light, and he was nude, his skin an unearthly alabaster.
Flash
…and he began walking toward me as I understood this was
real
. It was going to happen. And there was nothing in the world that would stop us this time.

He was on me, then, looming over me as I pressed against the burgundy velvet of the bedspread. I began to breathe heavily.

“How do you want it, baby? How do you want me?” Lannan’s victorious grin made me angry, and yet…and yet…

“If this is going to happen, don’t make it sweet. I won’t take
sweet
from you. If you’re going to fuck me, then make it rough, because it will never happen again, and I want to remember you for the bloodsucker you are.” Unsure where my words had come from, I suddenly felt stronger. “I want more of your blood. Give it to me.”

He blinked, for the first time looking unsure. But then he laughed and lifted his arm. With the precisely shaped nail of his index finger on his right hand, he sliced through the flesh, and as I watched, the blood burbled up, slow and thick, viscous like honey. I eyed it hungrily, the fever driving me on. And from somewhere deep inside, as I reached for his wrist, I flashed…

The man was pretty. He was pretty and he was alone and he was in the forest, gathering firewood. I stared from behind the huckleberry bush, my thirst rising. The pale blue of my skin mirrored the layer of ice on the lake nearby,
and as long as I kept to the snow, I blended in fairly well. My eyes, dark and filled with stars, had adjusted to the light of day.

I preferred to hunt during the night, but the bloodlust had driven me out of the Barrow, and I needed a quarry. I needed blood and sinew and flesh. But first…Yes, the man was very tasty, with long dark hair and deeply tanned skin. He was clad in leather and he was kneeling, examining something near the base of a tree.

I slipped out from behind the bush…clad only in a gossamer gown like my mother, Myst, Queen of the Indigo Court. Walking barefoot atop the snow, I left no tracks, made no sound. The animals of the forest had backed away; they knew I was near and that I was on the prowl. But the pretty man had no idea who was coming for him, and that was as it should be.

I slowly sauntered up behind him, until I cast a shadow over his shoulder in the fading afternoon. He turned, the lovely man, and his startled look turned to fear as I smiled, my razor-sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light. I cocked my head, turning it this way, turning it that, examining him.

He stood, the wood he’d gathered scattering as he stumbled back. He said something—I didn’t understand what, nor did I care—and then turned to run. I decided to give him a head start. It was more fun that way.

I waited a beat, then another. And then, just when he thought he’d escaped, I started to run. I ran in a blur. I ran in a flash. I ran on the wind and through snow and with a laughter that trailed two steps behind me.

It took him a moment to realize I was coming for him, and when he did, he screamed, falling by the side of the lake. He glanced at it, as though he might crash through the ice rather than face me.

“Can’t have that, pretty boy. We haven’t played our games yet.” I knew he couldn’t understand me, not my
words
, but he saw the razor’s smile in my eyes and let out a strangled cry.

It was too late.

I caught him by the hair, yanking his head back. Instinct urged me to attack, to shed his blood, to gnaw his bones, to rip at the sinew and flesh, but I was hungry in more ways than one. I dragged him away from the lake and ripped off his clothes. He wasn’t anywhere near my strength, and when he put up a fight, I grabbed one of his arms and squeezed it, breaking the bones. He screamed again, this time from pain rather than fear.

“Kiss, kiss,” I said, leaning in to press my lips against his.
Nobody
resisted Cherish, the daughter of Myst. And truth being, the minute my lips were on his, he stopped fighting. The venom in my kiss had him snared, and I climbed atop him, riding him hard, riding him rough, riding him even as my teeth nipped holes in his flesh. I bloodied his lips and then his neck, and then, as I came—hard and hungry—I lunged for his throat, shifting into my creature as I did so. I fell into the bloodlust with a fury, until there was nothing left on the ground but a few bones and the stain of glorious, delicious blood.

As I transformed back into my normal shape, I pulled a shred of tendon out of my teeth. Leaning down at the edge of the lake, I rinsed my mouth and washed my face—and then stood to begin my next hunt.

I was nowhere near satiated, but the pretty man would hold me for a while. Laughing, I raised my arms to the sky, reveling in the fall of snow, and sauntered away, my belly full for the moment. But there was more blood out there, calling my name, and the thrill of the kill never grew weary.

Blinking, I found myself back in the moment, sucking on Lannan’s wrist. The blood made me feel stronger, and I could feel my powers returning, my body healing. Once again, he’d saved my life, and now…

“You always thought you were the master,” I whispered, rolling him over and climbing atop him. “You wanted me, you’re going to
get
me, but on my rules,
do you understand
?”

He laughed, low and dangerously. “You think so, little girl?”

“I know so.” I plunged down on his cock, driving him into me. The chill of his flesh penetrated me, spreading through my body like a lacework of frost spreading across the window. I leaned my head back, groaning as he filled me full, driving deep into my core. As I began to move against him, he grabbed my waist and rolled me over, grinding full into me.

“I’ll show you who’s your master, girl.”

And with that, he thrust against me, impaling me on his icy, cold length. I closed my eyes, spiraling into the frenzy, wanting every inch to fill me up, to take me down, to throw me into the flames that were burning my body.

As he fucked me raw, my wolf began to howl. I reached out, stroked him, brought him into the fold as Lannan leaned down and bit my nipple, piercing it. The pain became pleasure and the pleasure became ecstasy as he licked up the thin trickle of blood dripping down my chest.

“I had to taste you,” he whispered, pinning me down with his weight. “I can’t drink much from you, but I had to taste a few drops. My sweet Cicely…I told you this would happen.”

He pulled out, flipping me over. “I’m not done yet, and neither are you.” He drove into me from behind, deep into my pussy as I rested on all fours. “I asked you once if your fair prince has ever fucked you in wolf form. Answer me, tell me…” His words were strained but the command was evident, and in my state, I was in no space to deny him.

“No, no…never…I wouldn’t do that…” I let out a low moan as he reached around and began to stroke my clit. The energy was so thick I could barely breathe, and I began to spiral down into the abyss, falling deep, spiraling into the pit of flames as he continued to work me.

“My name. Scream my name. I want to hear you beg for release. I want to hear you beg me, on your knees like this, my cock shoved so far up your cunt that you’ll never forget
I was in you. Every time you sleep with your Wounded King, you’ll remember this, and you’ll burn for me.”