Even Vampires Get the Blues (8 page)

“This castle has been at peace for the last five
hundred years,” I told Paen without opening my eyes. “But before that, it had a violent history. Many people were killed here, some justly, others without reason.”

I heard him shift on the couch. “My great-grandmother's family fought long and hard to retain the castle. It was under siege many times.”

“You resemble the man who built the castle,” I said, catching a flash of him in the castle's consciousness. “He loved this land dearly. He died defending it, and was happy to do so.”

Just what I need—a house whisperer.

I laughed. “I can't help it if houses talk to me.”

“Stop reading my mind!”

“I'm not reading it. You're talking into mine.”

“I am not,” Paen said crossly. “I've told you I can't do that with strangers. You're poking into my mind, and I want it to stop.”

I bit back the urge to argue, and kept focused. As soon as I saw what there was the castle wanted me to see, I let my mind wander around it.

“What are you doing now?” Paen asked quietly some ten minutes later.

“I've just checked the top two floors, and am now in the basement. So far there's nothing to see, although I did find two hidden rooms.”

“One off the dining room?” he asked.

“Yes. And one in the basement, leading into a tunnel.”

“That is the castle's bolt-hole. It collapsed several hundred years ago due to the land shifting.”

“Ah. Well, there's nothing in either other than cobwebs, damp, and mouse droppings, so it looks like
you're right—the statue must have been stolen. What bothers me is that I don't get any sense of it ever having been here in the first place.”

Paen shifted again on the couch. “Why don't you just ask the castle where it went?”

I snorted. “A house isn't a living being. I can't ask it questions—I'm limited to just sorting through information from its memories.” I opened my eyes and sat up, blinking a bit at the lights Paen had turned on. “And this castle has no memories of the statue you described. There are lots of other objet d'art memories, too many for me to look at individually, but I glanced at every one that would match the description, and there was no black monkey statue. There's an ebony statue of a man with a giant penis in a second floor bedroom, but he's not a monkey in any form.”

Paen looked mildly embarrassed. “That would be one of my mother's mementoes from the time they lived in New Guinea.”

“She sounds like an interesting woman.”

“She is. What do you intend to do now?” he asked.

I bit my lip, glanced at my watch, and thought for a moment. “Well, I don't think the castle has anything else to tell me.”

“I don't see that it told you anything,” he said, rather grumpily.

“Sure it did. It told me that the statue wasn't here, and hasn't ever been here.”

“That's ridiculous. It has to have been here. The castle is . . . er . . . confused.”

I sat up, hugging my knees. “I suppose it could be, but most houses are pretty good about things like
that. It's their purpose, you know—to hold and protect the things inside them. This castle doesn't know anything about a black monkey statue. Does your father own other houses?”

“No,” Paen said, shaking his head. “This is our only family home. The statue had to be here.”

“Hmm. Well, regardless, the castle can't tell me anything else, and it's almost deep night, so I had better be getting along.”

“What does the hour have to do with you finding the statue?” Paen looked puzzled.

“My mother is a sun elf. Deep night is the time when they are at their weakest. It would be useless for me to try to do anything during the four hours of deep night, so I should probably get back to the office and see how Clare is getting along.”

I thought Paen was going to stand up, but he didn't. Instead he knelt on the floor next to where I was sitting. “You can't leave. You aren't finished here.”

“I'm not?”

“No.”

“The castle told me everything it could.”

“I'm not talking about the castle,” he said, his eyes burning with a bright silver light. A little ripple of excitement had me shivering as I realized what he was talking about.

“Oh. That. Er . . . you wanted to do that tonight? Now?”

“Is there anything wrong with now?” he asked, using my own words against me.

His eyes had me shivering again. I was still surprised at how strongly I was reacting to him—I'm not the sort of person to have a casual relationship—but
just the thought of doing all sorts of intimate things with Paen had me flushing with arousal. That, and the sense that he needed me. I could fight the former but not the feeling that I could help him in some manner.

“Well . . . deep night is coming,” I said weakly as he leaned toward me, the fingers on one of his hands stroking up my arm.

“That's not the only thing that will come tonight,” he said. Wickedly. With an intent that made my whole body tingle.

“Oooh.” I breathed the word rather than spoke it as Paen leaned into me, gently pushing me back onto the floor until I was stretched out with him leaning over me. “I suppose I could stay for a little while longer.”

“I believe it will take us all of deep night to explore this attraction we share,” he murmured, his lips brushing mine for a moment before they burned a little trail over to my neck. Propped up on an elbow as he was, he had only one free hand, but oh, how he made use of it! My back arched as his hand slid along my ribs to the closest breast. “I have watched you the last half hour, and have decided on many ways to give you pleasure.”

A faint familiar feeling started building within me as my body quivered at his touch.

“Still with me?” he asked my neck.

“Right here,” I said, breathing erratically as my hands decided to get in on the action. I tugged his shirt out of his pants and slid my hands underneath it, skimming along the very interesting planes of his naked chest.

“Good. If at any time you feel as if you are leaving your body, let me know and I'll do my best to anchor you.”

My mind spent a few happy moments contemplating the form an anchoring would take, but there was too much pleasure to be had in exploring the lovely world of Paen's chest to devote too much time to that.

The hair on the back of my neck started to stand on end.

“This is a lovely jumper,” he said, pulling back just enough to admire my sweater.

“Thank you. My aunt knitted it for me. She wove good luck wards into it. It's one of my favorites.”

A slight smile curled the corners of his mouth. “Would you mind terribly if I removed it?”

“I'd like that a lot.” I went limp as a rag as he peeled the sweater off me. No, that's not quite true—my hands were busily unbuttoning his shirt in between him pulling off my sweater. “Fair is fair,” I added when he had to stop de-sweatering me for a moment while I tugged his shirt off.

“Absolutely.” He stilled for a moment, looking down at where I lay languid before him, my hand sliding ever so slowly down the sleek muscles of his arm.

An abstract sense of detachment bubbled over and washed along my limbs, making me even more relaxed.

“Um . . . Paen?” My breasts, normally well behaved, suddenly decided they wanted out of my bra and into his hands. Or mouth. Or up against his chest. They weren't picky about which, they just wanted his full attention.

“Yes?” he asked, leaning over my belly, his tongue a brand on my flesh.

The room began to spin. “I'm starting to drift again.”

His head moved up until his eyes filled my vision. “Focus on me, Samantha. Focus on what I'm doing to you. Feel every little touch I make. Concentrate on the pleasure I can give you.”

“I'm . . . I'm trying . . .” My consciousness started to detach from my body. Paen's head dipped, his breath hot on my breasts as his tongue snaked between the mounds of flesh trying so desperately to escape my bra. “Er . . .”

“Focus, Samantha.”

I started rising, lifting from my body.

“Stay with me!” Paen ordered. I floated above him, looking down to where he was peering at my face. My body looked relaxed, like I was daydreaming, a pleasant, if vague, expression on my face.

There was no drifting around the room. One moment I was there watching Paen, the next I was floating along the night, wafting who knew where.

I insist that you come back here! Samantha! Come back to me!

Pain accompanied the words in my brain, a hot burst of pain in my breast that immediately turned to pleasure so intense, it yanked me back. I blinked dumbly, surprised to find myself in my body again, Paen's curls tickling my chin as his teeth sank deep into my breast.

With that contact, my world changed.

Holy cow
, I gasped into his mind.
This is incredible. I can feel everything you feel! I can taste my own blood as you drink! I can feel passion building inside you. It's like
we're sharing it somehow, like you're feeding me rather than vice versa. It's like—

My cell phone, located in my purse next to me on the floor, rang at that very moment. Paen lifted his head, the contact between us broken. Likewise the psychic connection between us disappeared, leaving me feeling oddly bereft, as if something that was a part of me, something I needed, had been taken away.

“I'm sorry,” I said, apologizing both for my phone and the fact that we had been interrupted.

“We could ignore it,” he suggested, his eyes so bright they almost hurt me to look at.

I wriggled uncomfortably as I reached for my purse. “Normally I would, but I told Clare to call if she needed me.”

Paen leaned back to allow me to grab my purse. I extracted the cell phone, checked the incoming caller's number, and mouthed, “It's her,” at him before answering. “Hey Clare. What's up?”

“Oh, Sam, something terrible has happened. My dress has been shot!”

“You
what?
” I shrieked, sitting bolt upright, inadvertently slamming my breasts into Paen's nose. “Oh, man, I'm sorry,” I told him, covering the phone for a second. “Are you all right?”

“My dress has been shot!”

“Your dress? Why would someone shoot at your dress?” I asked, confused as hell.

“I'm fine,” Paen told me, gently feeling his nose. “I don't think it's broken.”

“Well, I think he was aiming at me. I was wearing the dress at the time,” Clare said thoughtfully. “It was
just mean of him to shoot the part of me covered by the dress. I don't know if it's going to recover.”

“Clare has been shot. She's delusional, babbling on about a dress,” I said aside as I grabbed my sweater and yanked it over my head, my voice muffled as I asked into the phone, “Clare? Are you seeing things? Strange, unreal things?”

“Well, I consider my dress with bullet holes in it a strange, unreal thing, so if that's what you mean, yes. It's a mess, Sam, a mess, absolutely destroyed. I've tried for half an hour to get the blood out, and it won't come out! I'm so annoyed I could just scream!”

I stared at Paen in confused horror. He had donned his shirt and was quickly buttoning it.

“How bad is she? What hospital is she at?” he asked. “I'll take you there.”

Clare continued to rant about her dress. I shook my head, trying to figure out just how badly she was hurt.

“Clare? You didn't get shot in the head, did you?” I asked. “Are you lucid?”

“Of course I'm lucid. Haven't you been listening to me? My dress is ruined!” she wailed.

I rubbed my forehead as Paen helped me to my feet, waiting not-so-patiently for me to answer his questions. I was so bemused by the fact that Clare seemed more concerned for a dress than her own bullet-riddled body that I couldn't seem to think straight. “Yeah, but . . . Clare, exactly where
were
you shot?”

“Twice in the chest, once in the stomach.”

“Samantha?” Paen said, clearly wanting an update.

I covered the mouthpiece. “She's been shot in the
chest and stomach, but she doesn't seem to care much about that.”

One of Paen's expressive eyebrows rose slightly. “She is a faery. She is immortal. Bullets can't kill her.”

“No, but they can hurt her,” I snapped, immediately feeling bad. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get irritated, but Clare seems to be more worried about her dress than anything else.”

“Sam? Did you hear me? What am I going to do?” Clare's plaintive voice sobbed in my ear.

“Don't worry, we'll be there as quickly as we can. Where are you?”

“On Dunstan Moor.”