Ashes to Ashes-Blood Ties 3 (6 page)

"God, Carrie," he managed through clenched teeth. "You feel so good." I wanted to answer him, to say something witty and self-assured, but he pressed his thumb to the hot, tingling bit of flesh at my center and all I could do was let out a hoarse cry. It had been far, far too long since I'd been with him like this. It was more than a physical connection. With the blood tie between us, I could read his thoughts, feel his desire and experience the pleasure he felt as if it were my own. My skin burned where his hands touched me, my body tensed and spasmed around his cock as I rode him. I lost track of the times I cried out in release, lost to the feeling of his thickness stretching and spreading me, the hard, ridged length of him pounding into me. When he grabbed my hips and jerked me down, so hard against him it was almost painful, I felt him throb inside me and fell forward onto his chest, my arms too weak to support myself.

The tears that came to my eyes were unexpected. I swiped them away and carefully moved off of him, blocking him from the blood tie with what little mental strength I had left. He'd felt my sudden overload of emotion, though. The relief at being reunited with him. The uncertainty whether I could trust him to heal the wounds inflicted on him by his sire. But most of all the fear that I would be hurt again.

His hands shook as they smoothed my tangled hair from my face. "You can trust me now, Carrie. You can trust me, because I can trust myself not to hurt you." I leaned against his cold skin, buried my face in his neck. The scent of my sire's blood, primal and familiar, filled my senses.

I'd missed him so much—the feel of him under my hands, the weight of him, solid and

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sure, at my side. As much as I hated the codependent notion of needing another person to make you "whole" the blood tie did make us two halves that were only completed by each other.

It would be so much easier if I didn't love him.

Chapter Three: Possessed

Max couldn't believe her nerve.

There Bella sat at the kitchen island, her head bent over a book, occasionally turning to take a bite from the sandwich she held in her left hand. She perched on a stool, her right foot on a higher rung than her left, so she could rest her elbow on her knee and still turn pages.

How could she look so relaxed after all that had happened? When people he'd known for years—he assumed she'd known them, too—were dead. Tortured to death by the Oracle, who now roamed around unchecked. Oh yeah. Perfect time for a sandwich.
If I kick that stool right now, there's no way she'd be able to get her balance before her
ass hit the floor
. The thought brought a bitter smile to his face.

"Making yourself at home, huh?" He strolled to the refrigerator and opened it, noting with annoyance she'd used all but the dregs of the mayonnaise and replaced the jar, anyway. He pulled out a bag of blood and popped it in the microwave. "So, get a good day's sleep?" She didn't look up. "You know I do no, sleep more than a few hours at a time."

"Oh, right." He snapped his fingers. "It's a dog thing. So, do you have to circle around three times before you can lie down?"

This time, she gave him a warning glance before wordlessly returning her attention to her book.

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt story time." He set the timer and then turned, leaning back against the counter. "Here's a funny story. Tell me if you've heard it. A building full of vampires gets roasted from the inside out and everyone dies." She didn't look up. "You think I do not care about what has happened to the Movement?"

"You're right. That
is
what I think. See, you haven't shown much love for vampires. None of your kind have. And maybe what I thought was you being brave and stoic was just you… not giving a shit."

The microwave dinged and he pulled out the pleasantly warm bag. Eschewing a cup, he bit through the plastic and purposely let some blood dribble down his chin, for good measure. Her nose twitched at the coppery smell. With a noise of disgust, she tossed her sandwich down and slammed her book shut. "You are a pig."

"And you're a bitch. Yet here we are." He drained the bag, though he really hadn't been hungry to begin with, and tossed it aside. It landed with a wet smack on the floor beside the trash can.

Bella looked as though she might throw up. Nothing would have pleased Max more.

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But it wasn't in the cards. Instead, she stood, tucked her book beneath her arm and headed toward the door. Her hand was on the smooth, painted wood when she whirled to face him. Her stony, cool facade had cracked, her high cheekbones coloring deep red.

"I am sorry you cannot accept my rejection of you for what it is. That is, that you cannot see beyond your pride, to the many reasons we could not be together." Her voice quivered slightly on the last word. "And I am sorry it taints your view of the situation we are in." He chose to ignore that final part. "Oh, please. If you think I'm nursing a broken heart, don't waste your time feeling sorry for me. It's Carrie I'm smarting for." Bella snorted derisively, than sobered. "What are you talking about?"

"I think you know." He folded his arms across his chest. "I knew you were going to make a move on him. I had a sick feeling about it when I left you at his place. How could you do it? When you saw how torn up Carrie was, how could you do that?"

"How could I do what?" Bella raised her hands in the classic pose of innocence. "I think you have finally lost your mind, vampire."

"Stop trying to play dumb! You know exactly what you did. You've been fucking Nathan!" Max rounded the island and stepped so near to her he had to ball his hands into fists to keep from touching her. This kind of closeness was dangerous. He could lose his temper and grab her, or lose his willpower and—

No. You went down that road before and it sucked.

"You think I am sleeping with your vampire friend?" She had the nerve to laugh at him, as though the idea was ridiculous. Placing her palms flat on Max's chest, she gave him a shove. "You dare to accuse me of this when last night I could smell
her
all over you?"
Ouch
. But what he had been doing didn't matter, Max reminded himself. It was Bella's immorality they were talking about. "Listen, what Carrie and I do is our business. But you knew how messed up she was when she left Nathan, and you still moved in for the kill. For your information, she was really hurt when she found out about the two of you. She could have slept with me to get her mind off it. But she didn't."

"When she found out about us?" Bella snorted again. Max wanted to hit her. "How, exactly, did she find out?"

The uneasy feeling that maybe something was amiss, maybe some critical piece of information had slipped through their keen investigative fingers, crept into the back of his mind. "I don't know. When she called, I guess."

Bella only nodded.

In the eerie quiet of the kitchen, even the buzzing of the fluorescent lights could be heard, layered with the drumming of water dribbling into the sink and the ticking of the sleek steel clock on the wall. From the rest of the house, not a sound.
So, where are Nathan and Carrie, genius?

Almost the exact moment he thought it, a smug smile began to grow on Bella's face. "I am sorry the only outlet for her troubled mind was in clumsy foreplay with an inadequate partner."

He threw the rest of her sandwich at the swinging door as she passed through it.

When I opened my eyes to find myself in an empty bed, my fuzzy brain snapped to alert. Okay, it snapped to panic.

You made it all up. It was a dream.

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There was no way the day before hadn't been real. No way I hadn't spent the last few hours sleeping comfortably in Nathan's arms.

I'd tossed back the blankets and was about to swing my legs over the side of the bed to begin a frantic search for him when he stepped out of the bathroom, a toothbrush in his mouth and a towel wrapped around his waist. He paused in his brushing long enough to give me a look implying I had lost my mind, then retreated to the bathroom again. Flopping back on the pillows, I smiled. The curtains were open, the sky had faded to twilight and Nathan had turned on the bedside lamp. The soft, golden light shone through my eyelids when I closed them, and it felt almost like turning my face to the sun. I wondered if I'd ever woken up so happy.

The faucet turned on, as briefly as possible because, as I'd heard many, many times, water conservation is everyone's responsibility. I slipped out of bed and padded across the thick carpet to the bathroom. Nathan leaned over the sink, spitting toothpaste into the basin.
It's demented that you find that sexy
, I told myself. I yawned and leaned against the door frame. "You know why vampires have to brush their teeth?" He raised an eyebrow as he wiped his mouth with a hand towel.

"So they don't get bat breath."

Drying his hands, he considered me silently for moment. "I'm rescinding my offer of letting you come home."

I slapped his shoulder. "Listen, don't be too hard on Max today, okay?" Nathan looked as crestfallen as a child who's had his favorite toy taken away. "Why not?"

"Because I have a feeling he's going to feel pretty foolish about all this. You know, when he finds out." I shuffled my feet on the carpet.

"Why, because you feel foolish?" He shook his head. "Don't you have any faith in me? Any trust?"

I raised an eyebrow in answer.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I won't give him a hard time. You women are so picky about these things. And by you women, I mean you and Max."

"Get out," I ordered. "I'm going to take a nice, long, water-wasting shower." With a grin, he asked, "Will you require assistance with that?"

"You've already taken a shower," I pointed out, gesturing to the towel.

"I'm dirty enough to take two." He winked.