Faith Revisited (7 page)

25

Bale could have cried with relief when he felt her lips latch onto his skin. Fear kept the extreme sexual need at bay, allowing only faint wisps of arousal with each tug of her lips. Those were easy to ignore. Instead of getting his rocks off, Bale had more important things to center his attention on. He continually monitored Faith's every movement, and by the time she'd pulled back, her shaking had lessened to slight shivers.

Her head fell against his arm, and glancing down, Bale became trapped in her crystal clear emerald gaze. She slowly reached a hand up and cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing away a tear he hadn't realized was there.

“I thought you were a dream,” she whispered.

Bale dragged her hand to his lips, kissing her palm lightly. “I'm real enough,” he replied, his voice still rough with worry.

Her eyes drifted closed, and her head moved to Bale's shoulder, nuzzling his neck. He felt her lips lightly touching his skin as she slowly relaxed in his arms. Lowering her gently to the bed, Bale found she was asleep again. When he tried to move away from her, though, he was unable; Faith murmured a hushed protest. And when he became insistent, the tremors returned.

His curling around her slight frame eased her distress, and Bale sighed as he finally pulled her tightly against his chest.

Over the next several hours, this process repeated itself, her convulsions getting progressively worse. Each time he got her to take small amounts of his blood, but it became more difficult as the tremors took over her frame. By the fourth episode, Bale had considered getting Arak, but it being by far the worst one yet, he'd been afraid to leave her alone.

Bale was at his wit's end, unsure if he could handle witnessing her pain any longer, when the fifth one hit. He breathed a sigh of relief when it didn't last nearly as long, nor was it as harsh. And from there the bouts slowed until she slept peacefully.

Finally able to rise from the bed, he wanted to hightail it right out of the room and get as far away from Faith and the sense of their shared trauma as he could. He felt connected to her now, and that was a feeling he could not tolerate.

But he refused to run. Instead he showered and changed back into his leathers and a clean shirt. With one last look at Faith to ensure she was truly resting comfortably, Bale exited the room. His first stop would be to check on Zeke and make certain his brother had made it through the day. And then he intended to find out if Remy had discovered anything else while he had been confined in his room.

* * * *

Faith jerked upright, her hands immediately going to her right side. She shoved the shirt she was wearing out of her way and examined her flesh. No wound. Nothing. Not even a scratch.

She sank back into the pillows with a sigh. It had all been a nightmare, just a horrible figment of her very active imagination.

Wait a minute. When the hell did she get a Led Zeppelin T-shirt? A
man's
Led Zeppelin T-shirt? She sat up again and stared down at her chest. She was a Marilyn Manson kind of girl, 26

Madelyn Ford

certainly not a metalhead. Disconcerted, she raised her head slowly, for the first time taking in her surroundings.

Shit! This wasn't her cheerful, yellow-painted room with her white wooden furniture. No, the walls were black. The bed, a massive iron structure, was considerably larger than the average king-size, and it was old. The head- and footboards had an intricate bird design on them, what Faith thought might be a phoenix. The bedding was black silk. Besides a large stereo system stacked on the floor, a black leather chair in the corner, and a wooden armoire against one wall, the rest of the room was empty.

Where the hell was she?

It was unlike her to get drunk and go home with strange men. No, that was more her twin's department. But in an unfamiliar bedroom, dressed only in a T-shirt and her underwear, she couldn't think of another reason for finding herself in these unfamiliar surroundings.

Crap. She had to get out of here.

Faith swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and a wave of dizziness had her bracing her head in her hands.

“Well, that was fun,” she mumbled after the episode had passed.

She gingerly rose to her feet, swearing off alcohol for the rest of her life. She felt like shit.

Glancing around for her clothing so she could sneak away before encountering the owner of the Led Zeppelin T-shirt, she sighed when she couldn't spot them. Could this get any worse?

Three doors were in her line of sight. One was open and led to a bathroom. Faith hobbled to the closest one and, upon opening it, discovered a huge closet.

“Lucky bastard,” she murmured, knowing she would die to have this much space for her clothes. Her closet, if one could even call it such, was scale to her small condo—itty-bitty, teeny-tiny. Then she smirked as she scanned the contents inside. Black. The guy apparently had a fetish for the color. And leather. Black leather pants. Black leather jackets—some short, some long.

Black leather boots, all of the biker variety. She picked one up. Steel-toed. It just kept getting better. She had apparently gone home with a member of the Hell's Angels.

She spotted a trench coat on the floor, and it seemed oddly familiar. Picking it up, she had a flash of the male who might have been wearing it. If her memory was on target and not alcohol induced, he was seriously hot.

She was about to drop the coat when a scent infiltrated her nostrils. Bringing the leather to her nose, she inhaled deeply, the smell of a pure, heavenly male overtaking her, and her body reacted instantly. She stumbled backward, hitting the wall behind her as a sudden heat shot through her veins. She was wet and throbbing between her thighs, obviously raring to go for round two. Her stomach had other ideas, though, and she bent over to ease the cramping.

“Oh fuck,” she whispered when the taste of blood filled her mouth. She'd nicked her tongue—on her fangs.

Faith rushed to the bathroom, stopping in front of the mirror and opening her mouth wide.

Sure enough, she had a set of fangs. One year early. And everything came back to her: the Lilu demon, the Alu demon, the whole scene where the fucking demon had stabbed her and the incredibly hot guy with the sword had come to her rescue.

She made it back to the bed without passing out and crashed on top of the silk comforter.

With her nose buried in the pillow, the scent of her male surrounded her, both relaxing her and The Watchers: Faith Revisited

27

amplifying the need for blood. Just on the edge of her consciousness, something tried to gain her attention. But she ignored it, sinking deeper into the pillow.

Turning her head to the side, Faith wondered where he was. She wanted him, craved him.

It was his blood. That was all it was. Because the alternative was unacceptable.

* * * *

When he had checked on Zeke earlier, Arak had still been out of it. He'd found Levi sitting by their brother's side, guarding him while Zeke remained in a deep, healing sleep. He'd tried to make his peace the best way he could with the other Watcher, clasping his shoulder briefly. Levi had looked up at him in surprise and then nodded and asked about Faith. For just a moment before Bale had answered, he'd gotten the impression Levi already knew the answer to his own question, but Bale hadn't pursued it. If he admitted the truth to himself, he was afraid of the answer. He didn't want to know what the future held for him and the female. Because either way it was going to be hell.

“Better,” Arak replied, looking much more relaxed than the last time Bale had seen him. “I am just on my way to wake up your female's sister. Then I'll check on Faith. I assume because you are skulking around, it is done.”

“I was not skulking,” Bale said quietly. “And yes, the transition has passed.”

Arak smiled broadly. “You didn't deny she is yours.”

Bale folded his arms across his chest and rolled his eyes. “Would there be any point? You have made up your mind, whether it is the truth or not. I'm just saving myself the aggravation.”

Arak did not comment; he just stood there grinning at Bale.

“You know, one of these days someone is going to wipe that shit-eating grin off your face,” Bale snapped, turning toward his bedroom door.

“They can try,” Arak replied as he continued down the hall, singing, “She's looking to love you. There's nothing to say. Just turn your head and walk away!”

“Yeah, fuck off,” Bale called over his shoulder. “And quit slaughtering Sabbath. Ozzy you are not.”

Arak's laughter followed him into the room.

Bale received one hell of a surprise when he crossed over the threshold. Lying on top of the bedding was Faith, and the sight of her ass in her barely there panties was almost more than Bale could take. A soft groan escaped his lips, causing her to raise her head and meet his gaze.

Almost immediately Bale realized she was in pain. He moved briskly to her side and sat next to her on the bed. He brushed her hair away from her face, his stomach twisting in a tight knot of tension when she whimpered.

“What is it, baby?” he quietly demanded. He could not—no,
would
not—tolerate seeing her in pain.

“Help me,” she pleaded, her words slurred slightly as she tried to talk around her new fangs. Bent over, she clutched her stomach, tears slowly sliding down her cheeks. Her obvious distress pulled at something deep inside him.

“How, baby? What do you need?” he asked urgently, reaching out to gather her in his arms. He hesitated at the last second, afraid he might make matters worse by touching her.

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Madelyn Ford

“Please. I need you,” she whispered hoarsely.

She rolled closer to him, and Bale took it as a sign to embrace her. He pulled her to his chest, holding her tightly against him. As her lips nuzzled his neck, her tongue peeking out to lick over his pulse point, he tensed involuntarily, and she stilled. Then he forced himself to relax.

“Whatever you need. Just take it, baby,” he urged, his hands rubbing her back in gentle reassurance. But when her hands went to work on the ties of his pants, he had a slight change of heart. He grasped her hands and forced them to his chest, while she fought him the whole time.

She let out a frustrated cry. “Please. I ache so badly,” she whimpered.

Bale cursed, then released her hands. She immediately began to untie the strings keeping his cock imprisoned. Once it was freed, she fisted her small hand around him, causing a groan to escape his lips. As she pumped him once…twice, his cock grew hard and heavy in her tight grip.

His hips flexed in counterrhythm with her motions as he tried to thrust as much of him through her tight fist as he could.

Not knowing how in the hell this had escalated so damn quickly or what it was about this one female that shot his control to hell, Bale tried to force back the lust and make his cock deflate. But Faith struck, sinking her fangs deep into his neck, causing his eyes to roll back from the pleasure.

He clutched her hips tightly, knowing he would probably leave bruises, but the only thing that mattered to him was sinking between her thighs and fucking them both to orgasm. Bale rolled her under him, his questing fingers sliding under the elastic of her panties. The little bit of silk and lace snapped under his grip, and he glided his fingers between her thighs, finding her unbelievably wet.

With a growl, Bale plunged two fingers into her dripping pussy, and her heat just about scalded him. As he corkscrewed his fingers deep inside her, he had to pry her hand from his cock to grab the organ in his punishing grip and keep from coming right there on her thigh.

Her hips arched up as he frantically withdrew his thrusting fingers from her and drove his cock in deep. There was no pause to give her time to adjust to his large girth. He couldn't. He was too damn far out of control, and his body just took over, forcing through the tightening muscles over and over again as her pussy rippled around him.

Underneath him, she met each forward drive, and with every outward motion, her tunnel clutched him as if to keep him buried deep inside her. As the contractions rippling around his cock grew harsher, she released his neck, sobbing against his skin while her pussy tightened around him like a vise.

Bale continued to push through her spasming flesh. “Again,” he hissed. “I want to feel you come again.”

Continuing to power between her thighs like a male possessed, he brought her to peak twice more before he came so hard, he blacked out.

He became aware of his 280-pound body collapsed on top of Faith, and he rolled off, afraid he might be hurting her. She made a small noise of protest, her body moving to remain in contact with his.

Bale growled softly, unable to believe he had just fucked the female with complete and utter desperation while still clothed. He was overcome with shame. He had treated her poorly and with a despicable lack of respect, despite the fact that she was the one who had initiated the encounter. He sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.

The Watchers: Faith Revisited

29

“I'm sorry,” she whispered hoarsely. “I didn't mean… God, please tell me you don't have a wife or something.”

Bale turned to glance at her, shocked by her apology. He was the one who had rutted on top of her like an animal.

He touched her cheek, shaking his head slowly. “I am sorry. I shouldn't have taken advantage.”