The Blood of Angels: Divine Vampires (8 page)

“I guess we both are… something else.” I tease, finishing the last of the bacon on my plate and turning to the extra one he’s brought me. “But why do you look so sad?”

“I just want to spend all the time I can with you.”

“And we have so little,” I murmur, hating to say it, to even remind myself.

“Yes.” He sighs, reaching over to touch my hand, and I realize now why his hand is always so cool, his lips too. How is it possible, to walk around in human form, and yet still be immortal?

“I can’t believe vampires exist,” I say aloud, shaking my head in wonder.

“If I can believe in fairies, you can believe in vampires.” He squeezes my hand, smiling again. “Besides, things aren’t always what they seem, are they?”

“What does that mean?” I ask, watching him finish off the last of the red liquid in the little glass. “So is that… human blood?”

“Yes.” He licks his lips, coated red. His tongue too. Even as I watch, his cheeks go from pale to pink. How could I not have noticed it before?

“Then what are the fangs for?” I wonder.

“Emergencies.” He grins, wiping his mouth on a napkin. “This is the twenty-first century, Sam. I can get blood delivered to my door. And I do.”

“Amazon?” I know all about Amazon. All those smiling boxes at everyone’s door, all year long, but especially around Christmas.

“That’s one of the few things they don’t deliver.” He laughs.

“So you don’t feed on people?” I ask. “With the fangs?”

“Sometimes…” He’s got a faraway look in his eyes. “But not often. Let’s say it’s a rare treat.”

“A treat?” I shudder, finishing the last of my bacon. “I don’t think I’d like having to drink blood.”

“It’s better than it sounds,” he tells me. “It… it fills a need. A craving. A hunger.”

“I don’t like hungry.” I make a face, looking down at my empty plate.

“But you like food?”

“Yes.” I nod, leaning back and putting my hand on my belly. It’s full now, no longer grumbling. Sated.

“It’s the same with blood.” He’s on the kitchen floor, on his knees, pushing mine open.

I’m awash with wonder as I look down at him, kissing his way up my bare thighs.

“And sex?” I murmur, my hand in his hair. “That fills a need too…”

“It’s all connected…” The heat of his breath moves over my mound, something I can’t remember feeling before. His lips are warm! I wonder if his heart his beating. Have I ever heard his heart beating? “Hunger, desire, food, sex…”

And then he’s between my legs, devouring me, greedy, ravenous, and I know he’s right, but I’m not sure how. I’m too lost in my own pleasure, my body on fire, to contemplate anything but Zeph.

“Why do people wear clothes at all?” I snuggle up to Zeph under the covers. We’ve spent all morning in it. His bed is big and soft, so comfortable. Comfort is something I’ve never been without before, and it’s strange to me. Humans seem to be creatures of opposites. They’re cold or hot, hungry or full, loving or hating. Stasis—a state fairies are almost always in—seems a rare human condition.

“Remember that whole Garden of Eden thing?” Zeph chuckles, his fingers playing in the fine, silky, yellow strands of my hair, letting it fall against my bare shoulders, making me shiver.

Even now, completely sated after sex—I’m trying to experience as many orgasms as I can before I have go back to being fey—I can feel the beginning stirrings of longing again. Humans are beings of such extremes. It makes life so exciting—and exhausting.

“Oh, that silly story book?” I roll my eyes, yawning. I’m sleepy, but I don’t care. I don’t want to sleep. “The misconceptions people have about
The Maker
are crazy, aren’t they?”

“Almost as crazy as the misconceptions they have about fairies. Or vampires.”

“Crazier.” I shake my head in wonder.

“But humans need stories, Sam,” he says. “They need to understand things through language and images. It’s one of the few thing that sets them apart from the animals on the ark.”

“Oh that. Don’t remind me.” I shake my head, burying it in a pillow as I stretch. Then I lift it to look at him. “You know, Alex was the one who forgot the unicorns. We were all in charge of using our powers to drive the animals into the ark, but he forgot the unicorns.”

“He should have forgotten the mosquitos.” Zeph smirks.

“Insect vampires,” I tease, sticking my tongue out at him.

“Hey! I don’t make people itch after I bite them,” he says, reaching over and tickling my ribs. I let out a surprised laugh, rolling away from him to escape the onslaught.

Zeph pins me, arms above my head, both of us breathing hard.

“It wasn’t really a boat, you know,” I tell him. “Yes, there was a big flood, but the animals were safe underground.”

The archaic meaning of the word “ark” means refuge. The animals had been safe, deep underground, when
The Maker
decided to try the whole human experiment again. Noah never really built a boat. In fact, his family being in the refuge at all had been a mistake. Drunk old man had hidden his family from marauders in a cart attached to a horse, which just happened to be on our list to round up.

Of course, the drunk old man took credit for it, when it was all over. Made up the story about building a boat, getting all the animals on it. I’m pretty sure that’s how he story ended up in that book.

Zeph is distracting me again, licking my collarbone like I’m a lollipop.

“You smell so good,” he whispers, his hips pressed into mine. I can feel him growing hard again. I’ve watched a lot of men have sex over the years, but I’ve never known a man like him—so insatiable. Now that I know what he is, it makes so much more sense. “Like honey or syrup or something. Must be the fey in you.”

“Oh, Zeph, I’m getting sore,” I complain when his hand moves between my legs, cupping me. But I moan and lift my hips up anyway.

“Not enough lubrication then.” He licks the shell of my ear, making me shiver, remembering his tongue. “I’ll fix that.”

With a shot of blood in him, he’s even more amorous than before.

“Okay.” I sigh happily as he kisses his way down my body. I can’t resist him. I don’t care if I’m rubbed raw and bleeding—and it’s not that bad, not yet—I won’t be able to say no. I want him. All the time, I want him.

Zeph has just settled himself between my thighs when the doorbell rings.

“Goddamnit!” he swore, grabbing a pair of boxers and yanking them on. “I told him to call first!”

“Who?” I half-sit, frowning at the interruption.

“Char.” Zeph scowls, eyes narrowing as he glances at me. “You stay here. I’ll be right back.”

I nod, but get up anyway, watching as he hops down the hallway, pulling on a pair of jeans as he goes. He disappears around the corner. Zeph answers the door and I hear another man’s voice, but not the words. I know he told me to stay, but I’m too curious—always my downfall—so I grab a robe off the back of Zeph’s door and wrap it around me, heading after him.

“I think I saw a penguin out there, it’s so cold.” A man’s voice. Not Zeph. “They say it’ll be twenty below today. Even colder tonight. I think the last time it was this cold, I had to pull wooly mammoth hair off of my suit.”

I suppress a giggle, but Zeph doesn’t laugh.

“We don’t feel it, what do you care?” Zeph snaps.

“Just making conversation, old friend.”

“I told you, I don’t have time for small talk. How long has she been like this?” Zeph asks as I near the end of the hall. The kitchen is to the left, but they’re not in there. The voices are coming from the right, toward the living room and the front of the house.

She? Who’s she?

That jealousy feeling comes up again and I swallow it down. I stop at the end of the hall, hesitating, not wanting to make my presence known.

“I told you, she just fell yesterday.” It’s the other man’s voice. Char. “But it’s like she’s not quite here. Remember Joph?”

“I remember. Muriel?” Zeph’s voice, soft. “Muriel, can you hear me?”

Muriel. Who’s Muriel? Has she fallen and hurt herself? But how can Zeph help her?

“Just do your thing, my friend,” Char says. “She’ll come down to us.”

I stand barefoot in the hall, shivering, confused. I know I should go back to bed and wait for Zeph, like he asked me to, but I can’t. I want to know what’s going on. I have to see. I edge a little closer to peek around the corner, but I’m still in the shadows. Now I can see a beautiful woman’s profile. She has long, dark hair and is reclining on the couch, still wearing a coat far too big for her. Zeph, sitting beside her, is facing me, but he’s looking at her. He doesn’t see me.

That feeling again. My throat closing. Just seeing him touching her, his hand resting on her forehead, is enough to ignite that fire under my ribcage. There’s a tall man standing near, looking down at her, concerned. Maybe Muriel is partnered with him, I think.
I hope.
He’s handsome—sharp, angular features with shoulder-length hair, an unruly dark brown. He’s wearing a long overcoat.

“Is she in there, Zeph?” Char asks, frowning.

“Of course she is. Shhh.” Zeph’s eyes close, brow creased in concentration. Looking at him like this, when he doesn’t know I’m watching, is like discovering a secret. He’s far more handsome than his friend, and already I know those hands, that mouth, probably better than I know my own.

“What do you see?” Char looks more than concerned now. He looks a little scared.

“Shh!” Zeph shakes his head but doesn’t open his eyes. I don’t like the way his hand moves from the woman’s forehead to her cheek, stroking lightly with his fingertips.

“She’s been through a lot. I think—”

“Char, if you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to pull your fangs out.”

I cover my mouth with my hand to keep from laughing at the dark look on Char’s face. So he’s a vampire. I should have guessed. His hands curl into fists and for a minute I think he’s going to haul off and hit Zeph. I’m about to call out, but what Zeph does next stops him.

It stops us both.

Zeph cups Muriel’s face in his hands, leaning in close, like he’s going to kiss her.

My breath catches in my throat as Zeph’s mouth touches the woman’s. I’ve felt his kisses again and again, I know exactly what it feels like, the soft press of his lips, the smell of him, like some exotic copper spice, those skilled, firm-but-gentle hands. Whatever small jealousy I’ve felt before is nothing compared to this. I have a volcano in my belly and it’s about to erupt.

“What the fuck?” Char grabs the back of Zeph’s neck, yanking him backwards, and the men tussle. I can only stare at them, wide-eyed, shrinking back into the shadows. They’re yelling at each other and I’m sure they’re going to start punching each other. Neither of them notice that the woman on the couch has opened her eyes, and they’re blood red. Not just the irises, but the whites too. And she’s sitting up. Looking straight at me.

A chill passes through me as I realize what she is—and what she wants. She’s looking at me like she could eat me alive, and my hands go reflexively to my throat.

“Muriel!” Char’s voice rings out loudly as he pushes Zeph away from him. He’s noticed his charge, who licks her lips and looks at me like she’s a starving woman and I’m a fat, juicy steak. And I suppose I am. I feel my pulse thrumming under my fingers. “Muriel, no!”

I open my mouth to cry out, to call to Zeph, but she moves so fast, so very fast.

But Zeph is faster. He has her by the hair first, then he wraps an arm around her waist from behind, turning her around to face Char. It’s the first time she’s noticed him and it stops her cold. Her whole body trembles when she see him and she cries out, falling to her knees. The tears that fall down her cheeks are as red as her eyes.

“Muriel.” Char goes to his knees too, gathering the woman into his arms. “Oh sweet Muriel.”

Char rocks her and the relief in the man’s eyes as he looks up at Zeph is palpable. He mouths a “thank you,” but Zeph isn’t paying any attention. Zeph stalks toward me, grabbing me to him and running his hands over my body through the robe as if he’s checking for broken bones, or cracks and crevices where they shouldn’t be.

“I told you to stay put.” Zeph frowns before pulling me into a tight, breath-quashing hug.

“Sorry,” I squeak, and I can’t help but watch over his shoulder as Char cradles the sobbing Muriel in his arms.

“Go back to the bedroom,” Zeph instructs, kissing me hard on the mouth before turning me around and pointing me down the hall. “Unless you want to be her breakfast, I suggest you go into the bedroom and wait for me.”

I nod, swallowing hard as I glance back, seeing the dark look in Zeph’s eyes, remembering the hungry one in Muriel’s. I suddenly remember what they told me just before they granted my wish. The words echo in my head.

You realize becoming mortal for any length of time leaves you subject to all the possible consequences, including the possibility of injury or death?

And my first thought had been—
what could happen in twenty-four hours?

I hadn’t counted on vampires.

“Go!” Zeph smacks my bottom for good measure and I yelp. It stings.

“I’m going!” I insist, scooting down the hall.

Zeph waits for me to go in. Then he waits for me to slowly close the door.

I stand there shaking for a moment, remembering the inhuman look in Muriel’s eyes. The unquenchable thirst in them. If Zeph hadn’t been there…

“What did you kiss her for?” Char’s voice rises in anger. I can hear him, even through the door. “She’s not sleeping fucking beauty!”

And I remember my own anger, my jealousy. I want to hear more about that kiss.

I tell myself to just get back into bed and wait for Zeph. I tell myself that I don’t want to be some young vampire’s first meal. I tell myself that Zeph is likely to kill me himself if he finds I’ve disobeyed him. I tell myself that curiosity killed the cat.

And then I open the door. Just a crack. Just enough so I can hear.

“How long has she been in love with you?” Zeph asks quietly.

I’m glad I opened the door, because I wouldn’t have been able to hear them through it, not now that they’re talking in reasonable tones.

“Fuck, Zeph. It’s not my damned fault!”

“How long?”

Char sighs. “What, Mr. Know It All, you couldn’t see that?”

“It was… murky,” Zeph replies. “I think she was trying to keep me out. She’s still trying. She doesn’t want me to know. She doesn’t want
you
to know.”

“Why did you kiss her?” Char asks again. His voice shakes slightly, probably in anger. It’s clear he cares for Muriel. Has he turned her into a vampire?

“I didn’t do it for kicks!” Zeph snaps. “Listen, in her mind, she thought I was you, It… it was all I could do to bring her fully here.”

“Don’t!” Muriel croaks, speaking for the first time. Her voice is like gravel. I remember how I felt, waking up on Zeph’s couch, cold, alone, in an unfamiliar human body. “Don’t you dare tell him!”

“Tell me what?” Char sounds almost as confused as I feel.

“Take her home, Char.” Zeph sighs. “Feed her. Talk to her. Maybe she’ll tell you what happened. She knows. She remembers.”

“Goddamnit, tell me!” Char insists.

I remember how they wrestled together and wonder if they’re going to start again. I check to make sure there’s a lock on the door, in case they go at it and Muriel decides to follow her nose and make a meal of me.

Not that I’m sure a lock would keep her out.

“It’s not for me to tell.” Zeph isn’t going to say, I know by the tone of his voice. I know so little and so much about this man all at once. “Go home. Both of you, go home.”