Forever Vampire (16 page)

From behind her, Vail's hands caressed her hips and he pressed his groin against her ass. It didn't take long for him to get hard, and she encouraged his arousal by grinding her backside against him.

So much for not touching. She wouldn't mention the broken pact if he wouldn't.

“Do they look like the faeries in the Lizard Lounge? What am I looking for?” she asked.

His deep whisper tickled her ear. “You'll know it when you see it.”

She had slipped into the thin faery dress and now his hands moved around to caress her breasts. Lyric closed her eyes and moaned at the exquisite pain when he squeezed. The man knew how to summon the naughty side of her. Why she'd ever asked him not to was beyond her.

When she opened her eyes the man three buildings down flickered in and out of focus as he walked the street. It reminded her of how they did ghosts in movies, cutting out a few frames to give them a staccato like movement.

“I think I see one.”

Vail crushed his body along hers and, clasping his
arms under her breasts, peered over her shoulder, but he was looking in the direction opposite to where she had pointed. “Yep, that's a sidhe. No wings. Must be under his clothes.”

“How do you know? You don't have the stuff under your eyes.”

“Looking out the corner of my eye, like I showed you to do earlier. Remember that, if you ever find yourself without the stuff.”

He unscrewed the jar cap and put some under each of his eyes, then leaned onto the railing.

“Is he looking for us?” Lyric asked.

“Could be. Could be looking for trouble. See the other? The female?”

While Vail's hands massaged her breasts, Lyric sucked in her lower lip and scanned the street farther up. A woman in a pink dress flipped her long white hair over red and brown wings that hung heavily in the rain. Her image flickered and rain spattered off the luminous wings.

“I can't believe it. Are they always everywhere like this?”

“Yep. But more so in FaeryTown.”

“It's so curious how they flicker.”

“This realm tends to slow the sidhe's usual movement so they flicker, but it's virtually imperceptible on those faeries who have been here a long time. They adjust after a few months, and that makes them more difficult to see because they blend so well with the mortals.”

“I'm not sure I like this.”

His ministrations at her nipples stopped.

“No, I mean the sight. Keep doing that, lover.”

“Are you okay with this now? I thought we were slowing down? Not touching?”

“That was a stupid idea. I'm always okay with the two of us making love. But wait.” She turned and looked him up and down. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Just checking, you know, for wings.”

“I'm completely vampire, sweetie. Love me or leave me.”

“So now you admit to being a part of my race?”

“I've never denied it.”

“True. But you know when you put vampires down for being filthy you're also putting yourself down? You should never do that. You should be proud of what you are, Vail. I'm proud of you.”

“Ch'yeah, right. How does that work? I've done nothing worthy of your admiration.”

“You've saved my ass more than a few times.”

He slid a palm over the backside in question. “It is far too nice to let get harmed. Which reminds me… We need to take a look around FaeryTown. Maybe we can find someone to remove your mark.”

“You really do want to protect me.”

“I made a vow. And I meant it.”

“Then let's do it. But before we go…” She bit her lower lip because his hand stroking her ass felt too good. “Why don't you, um…do that thing you do?”

“With my fingers?” He flicked his fingers before her in demonstration.

She clasped his wrist and lowered his hand to her loins. “Yeah, that thing.”

“All right, but you have to look at me.” He moved in to kiss her, and as his lips connected with hers, his fingers parted her legs and slid inside her.

His intrusion made her soft and melty, opening her to his dark glamour. Lyric closed her eyes and tilted back her head to moan.

“Eyes on me, Lyric. Right here.”

Sucking in her lower lip, she held his gaze, which was sexily defiant. His blue irises were hot with desire, and his stare felt more intimate than what his fingers were doing. He played her well, stroking softly and then more sure.

“Oh, yes.” Her fangs lowered and Lyric grinned widely, showing her bright incisors to her lover. “You know exactly how to do that thing you do.”

“You ready to come?”

She nodded, and he caught her jaw with a palm, forcing her to maintain eye contact with him. The bad boy's smirk revealed his wicked pleasure. Lyric pressed her mons hard against his wrist and fingers, taking from him what she wanted.

And he gave it to her.

L
OOKING AROUND
F
AERY
T
OWN,
Lyric was fascinated by what she saw. Everything was normal according to mortal standards, and the mortals she did see walked through the streets unaware of what existed around them, beneath their feet and above their heads.

Yet with the ointment around her eyes, she saw the fourth dimension that existed simultaneously.

Faeries were everywhere. They walked the same streets as if the mortals did not exist. Occasionally a faery would walk right next to a mortal, its wings brushing their shoulder, and the mortal would flick their fingers as if at a nuisance fly.

The buildings were mortal buildings, but the faeries could enter them on the level of their own realm. It was like parallel realms stacked one over the other. And since this neighborhood was not a popular spot with the mortals, the faeries had taken over.

They passed more than a few bars flashing luminescent signs with wings and a huge V in them. Vail explained the symbol vampires recognized for ichor dens—wings embracing a down-pointed triangle. It
wasn't
V
for
Vampire,
he explained, but rather the triangle represented a fang.

“Do you go in those?” she asked, clasping his hand at her hip. His palm felt too warm. Did the ichor house lure him with its offerings, increase his hunger?

“Once in a while. I rarely take from a live faery. Usually from the vial.”

“What does that mean? A live faery? Is that like me drinking from a live mortal? Because you know we get no sustenance from blood without a heartbeat.”

“Doesn't work that way with ichor. Some vamps prefer their ichor direct from the vein. Some buy a few vials and take it home to enjoy the high in private. Others will buy a faery to take home with them, draining them dry.”

“To death?”

“Yes.”

He didn't elaborate, and Lyric didn't need him to. The practice was barbaric. Vampires did not need to kill for sustenance.

“But where does the ichor in vials come from?”

Vail tugged up her hand to kiss the knuckles. No answer to that one either. And she knew, without doubt, live faeries were drained to fill the vials.

His habit was awful. But was it any worse than those vampires who insisted the kill was the only way to survive? Lyric had never, and would never, kill. She didn't need that much mortal blood to satisfy her hunger. And the kill would bring on the
danse macabre,
a state in which the vampire relived the victim's nightmares—while awake. Often, if the vampire had
killed multitude times, the
danse macabre
ultimately drove him mad.

They passed an ichor house with a stout, indigo-skinned faery guarding the door. He nodded as they approached, and said, “Vaillant.”

Vail nodded in acknowledgment but walked by.

He'd been in FaeryTown often enough that he was recognized? That shouldn't surprise her, but after discussing drinking methods that eventually killed faeries, Lyric felt her throat go dry.

“I shouldn't have brought you along,” he said. He slid a possessive hand about her hip. His claiming her settled some of her apprehension. “But it's my truth.”

She liked that he was willing to show her his truth. Maybe someday he'd step beyond what he'd been taught, and begin to explore life and develop his own tastes. She'd help him if he ever indicated an interest.

“You don't feel compelled to go inside and feed the habit?”

“Lyric, I told you—”

“I know, you do it to maintain. But if we're talking truths here, do you want to stick with that excuse?”

He pulled her to him as he leaned against a wall beneath a neon sign advertising
La Fée Plaisir
. The bustle on the street moved around them, coving them into the hazy blue glow of the neon.

“I may be the sorriest excuse for a vampire you've ever met,” he said, whispering into her ear. “But it's all I know.”

She kissed him. He let her take as she pleased, not reacting, and she liked the moment. A press of their mouths, an exhalation of breath, a sigh shivering across her lips.

“Learn differently,” she challenged. Another kiss to his nose and his cheek. “For me.”

His smile was completely lacking in mirth.

She'd pushed too far. The man was not the kind a woman could tame or change or shape into something to suit her designs. That would be cruel to even attempt. Vail was unique, and despite his addiction, she did not want to change him.

But could she reach the untouchable core he guarded so fiercely? They had a connection, but it yet felt too thin, not nearly substantial enough to forge a long and trusting bond.

“I misspoke. I do need you along. Ahead,” he said. “See that symbol in the window with the blade and herbs? It's a healer's house. Let's see what we can find.”

It was a narrow building, seemingly squished between two surrounding buildings, as if an afterthought; couldn't be more than twelve feet wide. Cozy and intriguing. Violet waves of smoke swirled through the air as Lyric followed Vail through the black-painted halls of the healer's house.

Head bowed and eyes closed, Vail stood outside an open door, seeming to take a moment of peace or thanks. Lyric wanted to blow away the smoke that trailed about his head, but then she yawned.

“Is this some kind of sleeping stuff?” she murmured.

“Smells like poppy flame,” he said.

“Opium?”

“Could be. She's inside. We can enter. I feel her invitation.”

Lyric had always avoided accompanying Charish's monthly visits to the witch seer, much as her mother had insisted she could craft a love spell for her. She just didn't believe in hocus-pocus.

Vail had felt the invite? Things had just gotten spooky.

Lyric followed as he stepped into the room, which resembled some kind of gypsy tent, hung with colorful silks that upon closer inspection looked like spider webbing. An ivory incense burner trickled out the mysterious violet smoke and Lyric positioned herself on the side of Vail opposite the cloying haze.

Before the bay window on a bed of vines sat a tiny woman with dark violet skin and curious white tattoos. They looked like henna designs, elaborate Indian arabesques, yet all were in white so they virtually glowed against her dusky skin. A crown of what looked like cranberries circled her head, twined within a thorny branch.

Lips as bright as the berries opened and a spill of white smoke curled out and around her neck, then circled her body, calling attention to the tiny wings at her back, the tips barely revealed behind her head.

“Well met. I receive your blessings with an open heart,” Vail said, and bowed to the faery. “I have lived
in Faery all my life, until three mortal months ago when I was banished to this realm. I revere the sidhe, and wish them no harm.”

“And the vampiress?” the faery asked in a curiously deep voice that vibrated at the back of Lyric's throat.

“She is respectful of the sidhe and their ways.”

The white tattoos flashed on the woman's skin as she looked over Lyric. Deep violet eyes that were pure color, no dark pupil at all, dug through Lyric's skin and into her blood. Suddenly she felt Zett's mark behind her ear begin to burn.

“You've been marked by the Lord of Midsummer Dark,” the healer announced. “Step forward, chosen one.”

“No, I'm not—” Chosen? Never.

Vail put a finger to his lips and nodded that she take a step forward to stand beside him.

The healer faery tilted her head, and blew out a wisp of white smoke that crept toward Lyric and curled up behind her ear. The smoke touched her as if a finger, gliding along the mark.

“A vampiress attracted the Unseelie lord to make her his own?”

Lyric looked to Vail for direction. She felt it best he speak because she wasn't at all dialed in to the protocol for communicating with this woman.

“It was a mistake on Zett's part,” Vail explained. “Now he seeks to destroy that mistake. We respectfully request you remove the mark from her skin so
she will no longer be the Lord of Midsummer Dark's prey.”

The healer sniffed. The violet smoke that had filled the hall now wound its way about Lyric's body, twining like rope strands about the white smoke. It tightened, pressing her knees together and clamping about her hips. Her eyelids blinked, and she had to concentrate to focus.

“She is very susceptible,” the faery explained. “Perhaps it best she succumb to the Unseelie lord's will.”

“No,” Vail said, a bit too forcefully.

The healer blanched and her wings snapped out crisply and fluttered. He'd upset her. Lyric reached for Vail's hand, but he eluded her touch.

“She did nothing wrong,” he explained more calmly. “Zett has no right to kill indiscriminately. Why should it not be he who suffers for his mistake?”

“To suffer such a mistake would see him taking her as his bride. I sense, vampire, that you would have something to say against that.”

“I—” Now Vail's hand did clasp in hers. “Yes. She is mine.”

The faery closed her eyes, revealing the delicate white designs tracing her lids. The aroma of flowers and cranberries grew so strong Lyric tasted it as it drizzled down her throat. She wobbled.

Vail caught her across the back and held her against him. The violet and white smoke rope released its tight clutch.

The healer flashed open her eyes and aimed her gaze upon Vail. “No, I cannot help you. Certainly I
feel there is a connection between the two of you. I honor that, Unwanted One.”

Vail's intake of breath at that cruel moniker reminded Lyric just what he was sacrificing by kowtowing to the sidhe to help her.

The healer continued, “But I cannot risk bringing Zett's wrath upon me. Understand.”

“Of course.” Vail nodded. “Thank you for seeing us. Blessed be.”

She bowed her head and closed her eyes, the berries crowning her head spilling forward like ruby pearls.

Stepping out of the room with Vail, Lyric didn't feel disappointment so much as pride in Vail for having stood up for her, and at least attempting to help. She hadn't expected it would be easy.

When they closed the narrow door behind them, outside air whisked through Lyric's lungs and cleared away the opium fog.

“I'm sorry,” he said, and kissed her at the corner of her eye. “I tried.”

“I know you did. Thank you for trying.”

“We'll find another way.”

“Whew! What was all that smoke?”

“Sedative, for unwary strangers.”

“I get that. And I think I was unwary. Did it affect you?”

“A little. But the fresh air is helping. Let's head back, shall we?”

He threaded his fingers through hers and led her onward. Lyric sensed he didn't want to discuss what
he must feel was a failure. It wasn't a failure to her. It only further cemented their connection.

They strolled down a street fronted by many ichor dens, and Lyric breathed in deeply, drawing in as much of the fresh night air as possible.

“Fancy a bite?”

She startled at the drowsy voice to their left.

“Go away,” Vail said to the faery whose jasper wings hung straight and where they dusted the sidewalk were tattered and dirty.

The pale lavender pixy pouted, and teased a finger along her neck. Curious by what she saw, Lyric tilted the frail creature's head aside.

The faery bristled in delight. “I don't charge much. Right there.” She tapped the thick, pale vein.

“Do you see that?” she asked Vail. “That tattoo or mark.”

Now interested, Vail made to touch the faery's neck, but she tugged away and insisted on cash. He dug in his pocket and handed her a 500-euro banknote. “Just touching,” he said. “I don't want to bite.”

“Whatever gets you off, pretty boy.”

He stroked his thumb along the fine red mark just below her drooping earlobe. It wasn't bioluminescent like Lyric's mark. To Lyric, he asked, “Does it mean something to you?”

Her heart suddenly pounding, Lyric swallowed a scream. Tears heated her eyes. She began to think of the implications, but her mind tugged her back and wouldn't allow her to go down that dark path.

“It's the Santiago family crest,” she said.