Dead If I Do (9 page)

I stood there with my mouth agape; I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing.

“Do you want me to sleep on the couch?”

“No,” I said reflexively. “I will.” I grabbed a pillow.

As I passed him on my way out, without looking up, he said, “What have you done about Guantánamo or Abu Ghraib, eh?

What horrors have you allowed?”

“That’s different,” I said.

“Is it? Only time will tell.”

I hated to admit he had a point. “I’m still sleeping on the couch.”

“And I’ll be here in the morning.”

Turns out, Sebastian didn’t have to wait until morning
for me to forgive him. The couch has never been terribly comfortable, and the temperature dropped in the middle of night, making the skimpy blanket I ’d dragged out of the hall closet completely useless. Plus I could feel Benjamin watching me. I woke up at one point when he was stroking my hair. I’d been dreaming about some strange combination of the Inquisition and the Nazis. When I startled awake at Benjamin’s touch, I realized this whole issue was so terribly complicated even my subconscious couldn’t untangle it. I believed Sebastian when he said he wasn’t involved in Nazi politics, but it was hard to jibe the idea of him fighting for Hitler with the man I knew. I rubbed my face. I wasn’t going to resolve my feelings about it tonight. I might as well sleep in the comfortable bed. The stairs creaked as I climbed them, and the blanket I’d wrapped around my shoulders trailed behind me like the train of a wedding dress. Benjamin followed behind, making the floorboards pop a second time in echo. Pale squares of moonlight checkered the hall.

On the bed in our room, Sebastian’s body stretched under the covers at an awkward angle. He lay completely still. He looked dead. Other vampires slept in coffins or underground, but Sebastian lay exactly as he’d fallen in battle, his head twisted to the side and his hands cradling the spot where he’d been run through by the enemy’s sword. It was as though he died again every night. Barney had curled up in the crook of one of his arms. Her chin rested on his elbow. When I started sleeping over, I wondered if I’d ever get used to seeing him that way. I crawled in my side and spooned up against his partially arched back as I always did. When he was like this, his body was heavy and stiff, but I’d found I could move him a little with some determination. So I shifted him onto his side and held on tight. It seemed to me that, even though he slept at night like I did, this was the time when Sebastian was at his most vulnerable. I tried to shield as much of his body with my own as I could. After tucking the extra blanket around us without disturbing the cat, I fell asleep.

Sometime after two A.M. I heard Mátyás come in. I
used to be a sound sleeper, but ever since Benjamin started paying extra attention to me at night, I found even the slightest thing woke me. I slid out of bed and padded down the stairs with the blanket around my shoulders.

He was getting bedding from the linen closet when I came up to him. He jumped when I cleared my throat.

“Jesus, Garnet, I thought you were Benjamin!”

I put my hands on my hips. “Your mother set Parrish’s hand on fire. She scratched me. This is getting ridiculous. Call her off.” I almost added: “Oh, and did you know your dad fought for Hilter?” But then I thought better of it. I needed to keep focused on Teréza.

I needn’t have worried. He completely ignored me anyway. He tucked a pillow under his arm. “Hey,” he said, pointing.

“You’ve got my favorite blanket. Give that back.”

“What are you hoping to gain by siccing her on us?” I asked, even as I handed over the blanket. Mátyás absently folded the blanket over his arm and then set it on the couch. He moved over to the fireplace and began setting up the makings of a fire.

Exasperated, I followed behind. I watched as he crumpled up some newspaper to tuck under a pile of sticks. “You can’t seriously hope that Sebastian will abandon me in favor of your mother. We’re getting married in two weeks. The invitations have been sent. The food is ordered.”

Placing a heavy, seasoned log on top of the paper and kindling, he struck a match from the box Sebastian kept on the mantel. The paper caught immediately. The sticks crackled. Mátyás crouched in front of the fire, watching it burn. “She needs him more than you do,” he said.

I frowned at his back. “What do you think Sebastian can do for her? Isn’t it his fault she’s the way she is?”

Using the blackened steel poker from the stand, Mátyás jabbed at the log. Sparks flew. “She needs a Sire,” he said. “She needs guidance. She needs someone to teach her how to be what she’s become.”

Despite myself, I understood. From what Sebastian and Parrish have told me, I knew becoming a vampire wasn ’t an easy transition. There was that whole life-after-life thing, and I couldn’t even begin to imagine how to deal with procuring victims, not to mention the fact that Teréza had the handicap of major culture shock having been functionally dead for a hundred -plus years. I nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure she does need help to adjust,” I said. “He should be there for her.”

Mátyás turned to look at me.

“What?” I asked, seeing his shocked expression. “Is it such a surprise I’m sympathetic?”

He laughed. “Actually, it is.”

“Well, get over it,” I said. “I don’t have a problem with Sebastian wanting or even
needing
to help Teréza learn how to function as a vampire. What I have a problem with is her trying to kill him. And me. And setting Parrish ’s hand on fire. Are you sure she’s—well, up for all this? I mean, she was dead a long time. That might have affected her emotional state a little bit, don ’t you think?”

Mátyás dropped his smile. “She’s fine. She’s just having a little trouble adjusting.”

Hello, denial. “Oh,” I said, because as someone well-practiced with denial, I knew that there wasn’t much else I could really say. “Okay.”

“She’ll be fine,” he insisted as he put the grate in front of the now-roaring fire. “If Papa would just spend some time with her, everything would be all right.”

Sure it would, I thought, after Teréza kills us all. But I didn’t say that. Instead, I put a hand on Mátyás’s shoulder. He stiffened under my touch, but I gave him a quick squeeze before dropping my hand. “Everything is mostly taken care of for the wedding,” I said. “I don’t see why Sebastian couldn’t spend some time with Teréza. You know, see if there’s anything he can do. I’ll talk to him about it in the morning.”

It actually sounded like a good idea. I mean, who’s to say it wouldn’t help her? Unlike Parrish, Sebastian seemed to be able to hold his own against her. He had the advantage of blood magic or whatever his hold was over her. Plus, as long as nothing else with the wedding fell apart, it wasn’t like there was that much to do at this point. I’d been feeling as though Teréza cursed me, but maybe I was being silly and superstitious about that. And even so, I could always do a spell of protection to ward off any negative energy she might be sending. Heck, that was probably a good idea anyway.

Mátyás looked at me as though he wasn’t quite sure he believed this sudden burst of generosity, so I added, “Seriously, Mátyás. I’ll talk to him.”

“Okay,” he said, as he stood up. “I guess that’s a start.”

“Where is Teréza now?”

He shook his head and gave a rueful laugh. “I told you before: I don’t know where she goes.”

“Don’t you have a safe house for her or anything?”

“Yes, there’s a place she’s supposed to go, but my mother has been somewhat ”—he searched for the right word for a moment, before deciding on—“unpredictable, lately.”

Unpredictable? Try crazy. But I just nodded. “Will she freeze? Outside, I mean? Is her physiology like Sebastian ’s? She’s going to be okay out on her own, right?”

“Are you honestly worried about her?”

I shrugged. I couldn’t exactly tell Mátyás that I was probably more concerned that Parrish would run into Teréza again and get completely torched, so I said, “Sebastian cares for her,” I said. “He loved . . . loves her. You and I both know that.”

Mátyás squinted at me. “You’re so understanding.”

“Weird, isn’t it?” I laughed. Then I sighed. “Seriously, it’s not like I don’t realize Sebastian and Teréza have history,” I said.

“There’s not much I can do about that, is there?”

“No,” he agreed, turning away to fluff up his pillow. I wasn’t sure, but I thought he sounded a bit hostile again. With a sniff, he added, “The role of supportive wife suits you.”

He didn’t mean it as a compliment, I could tell. I had no idea what I’d said to piss him off. “Yeah,” I said, “fuck you too,” with as much sarcasm as I could, and stomped back upstairs to bed.

When I got back upstairs, Sebastian was awake. He
sat propped up against the headboard. His long hair spilled loosely around his face. “Mátyás is back?”

I nodded. “And in fine form. He seems to think the only thing wrong with Teréza is that she ’s in desperate need of vampire education from you.”

He raked his fingers through his hair, “That would be great if I could find her. She seems much more interested in you.”

I sat at the foot of bed. A thin layer of ice crusted the inside edges of the windows. Frost laced the rest of the glass. “Yeah.” I nodded, frowning. “Although she clearly wants to hurt you too.”

“True enough.” He smiled grimly.

“I think I want to ask the coven to help do a protection spell,” I said.

“What, like for a bachelorette party?”

I laughed. “That’s a good idea, actually—a spell and a party. Works for me.”

Somehow I felt like all the tension I’d been carrying around with me since dinner with my folks melted away with our laughter. My shoulders relaxed. “Hell of a day, huh?” I asked.

“Come here,” he said patting the spot in front of him. I scootched forward. He made the “turn around” motion with his finger. I obeyed.

Sebastian began to massage my neck. His touch was firm and confident. I could feel the stress melting under his fingertips. I made appreciative grunts and ahhhs.

“You should take your shirt off,” he said. “Then I could do your whole back.”

Like I could resist that offer? “Let me get the oil from the bathroom,” I said. I quickly dashed to the cabinet and pulled out some massage oil I’d bought at Soap Opera, my favorite bath and body shop on State Street. They let you design your own scents, and I ’d had them concoct the perfect mixture for me that reminded me of Sebastian. It had a bit of cinnamon and musk. I grabbed the bottle and hurried back to the bedroom. I tossed the bottle to Sebastian. He caught it deftly. I stripped off my shirt. Normally, I would tease Sebastian a little with the sight of my naked body, but this was Wisconsin in the winter. I plopped myself facedown on the bed and pulled the comforter around my sides. Sebastian laughed at my lack of ceremony and straddled my butt. I felt myself getting aroused simply from the pressure of his body pressing against my backside. I heard him uncork the bottle of oil and shivered in anticipation. After rubbing the oil between his hands to warm it, his palms glided across my naked back. I sighed deeply. Encouraged, he began rubbing my shoulder blades in slow, steady circles. I groaned as I heard my muscles pop beneath his ministrations. The smell of the scented oil relaxed me even deeper. A warm tingle spread along my body to settle deep between my thighs.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” I murmured into the pillow.

“It’s funny how you always say that when I ’m giving you a massage,” he teased, leaning down to playfully kiss my ear. His breath tickled, and my eyelids quivered in response.

I heard him chuckle low, predator-like.

“What’s funny is how your massages always lead to sex,” I reminded him.

“Yeah,” he said, running his fingers up my rib cage in a way that made me shudder uncontrollably. “Funny thing.”

He kissed the spot between my shoulder blades. Sitting up once again, his hands continued to smooth and work my body. I could feel him getting aroused as well, which only made me want him more.

I swiveled my hips, and he lifted himself so I could turn to face him. Pouring another drop of oil into his hands, he cupped my

breasts.

Arching my back, I allowed him full access. His palms were slick with oil and slid easily across my breasts to my nipples. Sebastian leaned down and kissed my lips. His mouth covered mine, firm and hungry. My tongue darted into his mouth. Sebastian was a good kisser. I liked the way he never hurried through a kiss. He lingered over every contour of my mouth and tongue. Somehow he made every kiss feel like a first.

As Sebastian gently squeezed my breasts, I suddenly wanted much more than kissing. My nipples hardened, sending a spike of pleasure all the way to my core. I felt myself growing moist.

I ran my palms over the flat planes of his chest. I loved the feel of his taut stomach. He didn’t have the six-pack abs of someone who lifted weights to intentionally sculpt his body, but he was hard from a life lived on the sword’s edge. It was damn sexy. And suddenly kind of awkward, because it reminded me how long Sebastian had been alive. That made me think of Teréza.

Had he smiled possessively like that when they’d had sex? Had she wriggled out of her sweatpants like I was doing? Of course they didn’t have sweatpants back then, but I wondered if his fingers had stroked her inner thigh the same . . . Oh!