Ashes of the Day (20 page)

“And that’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Nighthawk grumbled. “We walk in, all of us at once like this, they’re gonna take one look, and they’re gonna wanna take us all out again. Permanently.”

Marc sighed. He couldn’t blame Nighthawk for being worried. After everything they’d all been through, tonight’s mission might seem daunting, but Marc didn’t know of any other way to do this. And he couldn’t do it alone. He needed all of them with him. He needed to be sure everyone here was on the same page. “Does anyone else feel like Hawk does?” he asked the room. “Is anyone else having second thoughts or feeling scared about what we’re doing tonight?”

Nighthawk started. “Hey, whoa. What? I didn’t mean it like that!”

Marc ignored his outburst. “I know some of you may have had a bad experience, either at Akeldama, or at one of the other clubs. They may have given you a hard time when you were there before, they might even have chased you out, but that’s all in the past. Tonight marks the start of a new year. From here on out, things are going to be different. No one here is alone anymore. No one here is an outcast. And like I just got through telling Heather, if you’re worried, stick close to me. If anyone bothers you, if you have a problem with anybody, or even if you’re just uncomfortable with what’s going on, come to me with it. I’ve got your backs.”

“And we’ve got yours,” Nighthawk said.

As the crowd broke out in applause, Heather gripped Marc’s hand tighter. “We’re all ready,” she told him, pride shining in her eyes. “Let’s do it.”

Georgia stared at her face in the mirror of her dressing table. She’d been attempting to complete her toilette when she was struck by the futility of it all. She looked old, drawn and tired. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep up appearances. Even to her own eyes she looked worse—so much worse—than she had the night she’d arrived here. Was it really only two months ago? She shouldn’t be aging at all, shouldn’t be ill. Someone was sure to think it odd if she showed up at the party looking so obviously unwell. Even if Damian somehow, miraculously, failed to notice and comment on it, surely someone else would mention how haggard she looked. Then would come the questions, the accusations, and a confrontation with Conrad to which there could only be one possible outcome.

Being torn to pieces in a ballroom, while a mob of vampires in evening dress looked on; that was certainly not how she’d ever thought she’d meet her end. She’d been so sure Christian would be here by now to save her. She’d counted on it, very foolishly it seemed, for when had her timing ever been anything but lamentable?

Perhaps she could pretend to have gotten a lead on Audrey’s whereabouts? If she could excuse herself from the party without giving rise to suspicion, if she could hide out from the general population, she might be able to buy herself another day—or two days, or three—but it was still only a matter of time.

“Georgia? Darling, are you in there?” The knock was at the door from the hall. The soft, familiar voice flooded her with sweet relief.

“Christian?” The stool clattered to the floor. She dashed out of her new bedroom and crossed the sitting room at a run, flinging everything aside in her rush for the door. Her hands trembled as she struggled with the lock. Then the door was open. She pulled him inside, pushed him against the wall, threw herself into his arms. “Oh, thank heaven. I thought you’d never get here.”

“My poor, poor girl. Look at you. You’re shaking.” His hands smoothed over her back. “You really have been up against it, haven’t you?”

The gentleness in his touch, the concern in his voice, brought tears to her eyes. Nodding, she lifted her face to his, eager for his kiss. His lips beckoned. Her hunger rose without warning, turning her desperate in an instant. The needy animal, never far from the surface, raged out of control.

Christian’s eyes widened in horror as she reached for him, fangs at the ready. “No!” He held her away. “Georgie, no. Not the face!”

His fear slapped her back to her senses. She pulled away, dropping her gaze again to hide her blush, her deep humiliation. “Forgive me.” She gulped the words out, her tongue thick and unwieldy in her mouth. There were times when the animal was all she was, times when it totally consumed her. This could not be one of those times. She couldn’t allow it. One shaky breath. Two breaths. Three. The blood still thundered in her ears but at least she had herself mostly in control. “It’s just that I thought… I was beginning to fear… That is, I had started to wonder whether you were coming at all.”

“I know, sweetness,” Christian said, speaking calmly, soothingly. “I’m sorry to be so late. But it’s been one thing after another. My plane was delayed. I was held up in customs. The traffic into the city was an absolute nightmare. I don’t wonder you thought I wouldn’t get here in time. I was beginning to despair of it myself.”

“Yes, of course.” She motioned him to follow her into the bedroom. “You’ve been traveling. How thoughtless of me to have forgotten. You must be famished.” She was famished too, but that would have to wait.
Just a little longer now
. She crossed to the bureau and picked up the cut-glass decanter filled with blood that someone had thoughtfully provided. The thick, red liquid splashed into the waiting tumblers as she poured. Say what she would about Damian, he certainly knew how to keep Conrad’s household running smoothly and comfortably.

“Here.” She handed Christian one of the glasses, kept the other for herself. “Sit. Relax for a minute,” she said, gesturing toward the bed. She righted the stool she’d knocked over earlier and seated herself across from him. “Tell me everything. How have you been? How’s everything at home? I’ve missed it all so much.”

“Home is just as you left it. I’ve nothing of any interest to report, other than the fact I’ve missed you too. Dreadfully so, in fact. But, I suppose that’s hardly news, is it?” He smiled fondly at her then put the glass to his lips and drained it in a series of deep gulps.

Georgia watched his throat work, unable to look away, even though it made the job of calming herself even more difficult. She needed calm before feeding or her venom would be too caustic; she’d cause too much damage. It was a constant fear she lived with, the worry that the pain would become too much, that Christian would reach the end of his tolerance, that he’d run from her, hide from her, leave her doomed. She sipped at her own glass, and it brought her a little peace, but it couldn’t feed the deeper hunger.

“But never mind me. What’s been happening here? Are you sure you’re all right? You mentioned when we spoke last that Conrad’s been acting strangely. You don’t think he suspects anything, do you?”

“He can’t possibly,” Georgia replied wearily. “You know as well as I do what would happen if he had even an inkling.”

“I suppose I do. You’d be dead already, if that were the case, wouldn’t you? And I’d be next.”

Georgia nodded. There was no point in dressing it up. They’d both seen it happen too many times before to think anything else. “Yes. And now there’s this party tonight and everyone will be there and I just—” She broke off, biting her lip. She would not beg. She would not play the craven. He knew what was needed. She didn’t have to spell it out. He would either give it to her or he would not. True, it was in his best interest to do so, but ultimately, the decision was his to make. He was the one in control—a state of affairs that did not sit well with her. “I’m a little worried about it.”

“Right then. Let’s get started, shall we?” Christian placed his empty glass on the bedside table and got to his feet. As he started to unbutton his shirt, his gaze traveled over her, lingering intimately. “You’d best go ahead and take off your pretty dress. Wouldn’t want to muss it.”

Georgia felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Her gaze strayed involuntarily toward the bed. “But can’t we just… I mean, we don’t have to… ”

“Have sex?” Christian’s eyes lit up as he laughed teasingly at her. “Oh, but darling, we do! You’re still revved up, for one thing. I can always tell. It’s there in your eyes. The only way I’ll be able to handle you tonight is with more than a few endorphins in my system.”

Georgia nodded. “You’re right, of course.” Rising, she began to disrobe, carefully taking off her gown, and setting it aside where it wouldn’t get wrinkled. She kept her back to him, for the most part, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. It wasn’t
always
like this between them. But, at times like these, when her need was so great and his reluctance so obvious, it all felt so coldly clinical. They were having sex for one reason only. So that the pleasure he would receive from the act would make the pain she was about to inflict on him more bearable. They were playing one need off the other, trading service for sustenance like two whores, rather than sharing themselves as lovers might.

“There’s another reason for it too, you know.” Christian wrapped his arms around her from behind. His hands, sliding across her bare midriff, sent shivers of awareness racing across her skin. “You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known and it’s been months since I’ve had you.”

“I know.” It had been months for her too but, even so, she found it hard to believe either of them wanted it like this.

“I want to make love to you.” His voice stole through her, dark and insidious. He slid one hand into her hair and tugged, using enough force her scalp tingled. Her breath caught as a wave of heat and need washed over her. She trembled in his arms, afraid to move, afraid to break the spell he was casting over her. “I want to make good and certain you know that even here, even in
his
house, you still belong to me.”

“You know there’s nothing between us now.” Her words were a broken plea wrenched from her throat.

He pushed her forward onto the bed and then came down on top of her, whispering in her ear. “There’d better not be.”

What madness was this, Georgia wondered. What was Christian thinking to make such a demand? Conrad was her sire, and Christian’s too by extension. If Conrad wanted her,
really
wanted her—or if he wanted Christian as well, for that matter—the two of them would be powerless to resist his will. He would have them. And then they would
all
die.

“I want every last part of you,” Christian continued in between hot, savage kisses that covered her neck, her shoulders, her ear, her cheek, but stayed safely away from her fangs. “No exceptions. I want to touch you all over, taste your blood, your heat, your juices. You’re mine, Georgia, all mine. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Yours. Want you. Now.” She felt her eyes change, felt her fangs extend. She pushed herself up, intent on taking him into her arms, drinking her fill of his blood, but he caught her wrists in his hand before she could get the leverage she needed to unseat him.

“No,” he admonished sharply as he pulled her arms over her head, forcing her flat on the bed once more. “Don’t you dare.” He maneuvered himself above her, keeping his weight centered over her lower back, altering his grip on her wrists so that he had one hand free. “Don’t you do it,” he said as he tapped her bottom lip with his finger. “Not ’til I say—understood?”

She nodded as best she could, gazing up at him in helpless fascination. There must be a sickness afflicting her soul to make her crave his dominion so.

Heedless to her whimpers, he bent his head to her again, licking, biting, kissing, scoring her flesh with his fangs. Then latching on, drinking deep. She bucked and writhed beneath him, wanting more, wanting to feel his mouth everywhere, wanting the venom and the pain.

Her heart pounded. Her nipples grew taut. Her sex swelled and softened. “Christian, please.” A shudder ran through him. He stilled for a moment, fangs spasming a little as he forced them to retract. He lifted his head and licked the wound closed.

He spread her legs wide and delved between them. “You’re so wet and ripe for me,” he murmured in blissful tones as he slid two fingers inside of her. “So ready, aren’t you?” He withdrew his hand and thrust his fingers in his mouth, moaning loudly as he did. She watched him over her shoulder as he repeated the sequence several times. “So very, very ready.”

Georgia was more than ready. She was on the verge of losing her mind. She arched her back, canting her hips in mute invitation, groaning in anticipation as she felt him positioning himself behind her. Then finally, finally he entered her. She cried out in relief. His heat branded her inside and out. She wanted to move but his weight on her back kept her largely immobile.
Not enough. Still not enough
. As he settled into his rhythm, she squirmed beneath him, seeking friction, aching for release even as he pounded into her so forcefully that the heavy four-poster bed seemed in danger of shifting along the floor.

He stopped suddenly, after several minutes, pulled out and flipped her quickly onto her back. They were both breathing hard, chests heaving. She felt the animal stir inside as she stared up at him, mouth watering in anticipation.

“Now,” he said, tapping lightly on his breast with his finger. “Right here.” Her gaze tracked the motion and her mood plummeted.

“Oh, Christian,” she sighed, reaching up to lightly touch the thick scars.
How he must hate me
. It was hardly the worst damage she’d ever viewed. It wasn’t even the worst damage she’d ever
caused
in her long lifetime. But to see it so plain on flesh she held dear, and to know she was powerless to stop herself from inflicting more; that was almost unbearable. The animal growled impatiently. It cared nothing about pain. It cared only about survival—hers, its own, his, a little, but only because the rest depended on it.