‘That was to help you, Genevieve.’
‘It helped both of us, if I remember right,’ I corrected. ‘And anyway, you’ve helped me plenty of times in the past. So I couldn’t not help you. That’s what friends do.’ ‘Friends’ wasn’t all I hoped for, but it would work as a start.
His black eyes met mine and for a moment I glimpsed vulnerability in them before he said, ‘We are friends?’
I half-smiled. ‘Yes.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘It is generous of you, Genevieve, to accept my invitation because of your concern for me.’ His expression smoothed into his usual enigmatic mask as he spoke, but not before I saw a shadow of something like disappointment. ‘But it was not necessary, even as a friend.’
Idiot vamp. Did he think that was the only reason? I gave him an arch look and said blithely, ‘Oh, my concern was part of it, but not all of it.’
‘Ah. I see.’ His lids half-closed in his sleepy tiger look. ‘Perhaps if I were to issue you another invitation, one with a more private venue in mind?’
I grinned. ‘I would be delighted to accept.’
We looked at each other, the silence growing, tension charging the air, as something changed between us. As if my acknowledgement that we were friends and I was ready to help him had dissolved an indefinable wall separating us. Part of me almost wanted to shuffle my feet, part of me wanted to gaze at his beautiful face, to take in every detail of him. Another part just wanted to say, to hell with this, and throw myself at him.
Just as that part was winning and urging me to do something, anything, his gaze intensified. ‘What if I wish us to be more than friends, Genevieve?’ His low voice slid over me like cool satin – mesma – its touch both tentative and electrifying. ‘Would you still be willing?’
The breath whooshed out of my lungs, my heart stuttered then steadied. Part of me was prepared to say ‘yes’ without hesitation, but this was too important a decision, and had been too long coming, to do that. He wasn’t asking for furtive meetings, or snatched moments, but something more open. More lasting. With ramifications for both of us. The Bastien problem. The other vamps’, the fae’s and the witches’ reactions. But, more than all of that, there was a much more personal obstacle. If Malik ordered me to do something, I had to do it. So far I’d got around that problem by blackmailing him. Only, if we were going to have a relationship, that wasn’t an option any more. But then relationships are about trust. So I would have to trust him not to order me about, and in return he would have to trust me not to blackmail him.
I raised my hand, placed my palm over Malik’s heart and lifted my gaze to his. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I am very much willing.’
He grasped my shoulders, fitting his mouth to mine gently and carefully, then more insistent and demanding, then hard enough to bruise. His tongue thrust against my teeth. A part of me reeled, stunned, not at the kiss but at his rapid loss of control, as though my answer had unleashed him to take what he wanted. I parted my lips instinctively, eagerly, surprised as his dark spice blood invaded me, quickening my pulse and drowning me in a wave of heady desire. My body responded as if a switch had been flipped. I pressed against him, insides swirling in giddy anticipation, nipples budding to aching peaks, molten heat slicking between my thighs. Gods I wanted this. Wanted him. Needed him. I had for so long. And now we could have it. Have each other.
I tangled my tongue with his, pleasure sparking as a sharp fang pierced my bottom lip. Sweet honey and copper-tasting blood exploded in our mouths and someone groaned: me, him or both of us. I slid my hands over his silky skin, rewarding my fingers with the lean, defined muscles of his back, the beautiful indentation of his spine. He sucked hard at my swollen mouth, the rhythmic sensation resonating in my core.
The pashmina fell away, quickly followed by my briefs, leaving me naked, open.
He groaned, a harsh desperate sound, and grasped my hair, trailing rough kisses down my jaw as I tipped my head back to offer him my throat. His hand roved over my breasts, pinching and pulling with brusque touches, bringing forth inarticulate cries for more. I pressed against him, fumbling at his leather jeans, impatient to free him, his fervent growl matching mine as the thick satiny length of him sprang into my eager hold. His hand caressed lower, long elegant fingers parting me with perfect skill, sliding over the throbbing bundle of tiny nerves and pushing deep inside, their marble coolness a glorious overwhelming counterpoint to my own wet heat. For a long moment, time stilled and he held me there, a willing captive on the very edge as the pressure spiralled tighter, and tighter, and tighter . . .
Mine! The shout reverberated against my throat as his fangs pierced my flesh, his will commanding my release. I screamed, arched against him, and the orgasm rolled me over and over in a tsunami of pleasure, fluttering my heart, stealing my breath and plunging me headlong into soft black-velvet darkness laced with delicate patterns of gold.
Chapter Thirty-One
Distant voices dragged me from the darkness.
I pushed them away, enjoying the warm weight of the leather coat covering me with a familiar dark spice scent and the sated haze swirling through my mind and body. But even if I was sated, Malik wasn’t; I’d passed out before we’d really got down to it, an annoying hazard of donating blood during orgasm. But now there was more to come. I grinned at my unintended pun. Oh yeah, so much more was to come. My body perked up, obviously appreciating the thought, and I stretched out under the coat, searching for the beautiful vamp so we could continue what we’d so gloriously started.
He wasn’t there. Something neither I, nor my body, was too thrilled about.
I opened my eyes. Above me, I expected to see the night sky. But the view was hazed, as if I were looking through thick plastic. I squinted uncomprehendingly. Then blinked. A dome of magic rose high above me. A blood-Ward circle. And judging by the golden-pink tinge to the magical dome, it was my blood and power fuelling the protection it offered. Either I’d started doing magic while unconscious – unlikely – or something weird was going on.
I looked sideways, vaguely aware my neck felt like someone had chomped on it—
Malik sat a couple of feet away on the sandy grass, leaning against a lump of rock, forearms resting on bent knees, hands loose between his leather-clad legs. His head was tipped back, his eyes closed. Unease slipped down my spine. He didn’t look like a happy blood-bunny basking in the aftermath, but more like he was waiting with weary resignation for me to wake up. I glanced back up at the moon; it didn’t appear to have moved across the sky much, so I couldn’t have been out of it long. I looked back at Malik to find him staring at me with an unnerving blank expression.
Out of eyes gone solid gold.
‘What happened?’ I said, or meant to, instead I croaked ‘Whahp—’ thanks to the killer sore throat.
His eerie gold stare didn’t flicker.
Fuck. Had I trapped him in my Glamour? Only he’d said it wasn’t possible. Gut clenching, I threw off the leather coat and leaped up—
The ground heaved like I’d jumped on a storm-tossed boat, my stomach roiled, darkness spotted my vision, and I faceplanted again. This time into his arms. He lowered me gently to my butt and pushed my head between my knees.
‘My apologies, Genevieve.’ His not-quite-English accent was formal, his tone empty. ‘I fear I took too much blood.’ Cool fingers on the back of my neck eased the rapid onslaught of a hammering headache.
‘’S’okay,’ I whispered past the thudding pain in my head. ‘Body’ll replace it soon. Red cells’re turbo-boosted – 3V, remember.’ Though why I was explaining all that to him, a vamp . . . Only, beneath his empty tone, he’d sounded like his heart was breaking.