Midnight in Berlin (22 page)

Christoph smiled. “Be my guest.”

The room had a lot more personality than the rest of the house. It was also cluttered as hell. I got the impression that anything Christoph really cared about, he’d stripped from the rest of the house and brought in here. Like it was a safe haven or something. A refuge from the pack. There were paintings on the walls, in the same atmospheric forest style I’d noticed in his office. Stacks of half-finished paintings and drawings were leaning up against the walls a foot deep. As I flipped a couple over, I wondered idly if they were all from before Schreiber had turned him or if he’d painted since. Then I got my answer. It was just a pencil sketch, not even finished—but it was Silke, transformed into the wolf. No question. I mean, hell, after today there was no way I’d forget the sight of her. I figured I’d see her in my dreams. And wake up screaming.

It was a great picture, but it was giving me the heebie-jeebies. I decided I’d suggest he give it to Jon, who’d probably appreciate it a hell of a lot more than I would.

“You ever do any of the rest of us?” I asked to take my mind off the image of her blood-soaked muzzle ripping Sven to shreds. “Although I guess maybe it’d be a little risky, putting that kind of thing down on paper.”

Christoph managed a sort of horizontal shrug. “People would just take it for a fantasy. But I doubt there’s much of a market. Would you want a picture of one of us on your wall?”

“Maybe,” I said just to be contrary. Hell, I’d go for a picture of him any day.

“Perhaps I’ll paint you, then.” He looked away, resuming his examination of the ceiling.

It struck me then, I’d never really seen myself in wolfman form. Not properly. A hazy reflection in a moonlight lake while my vision was clouded with bloodlust, that was all. I’d never changed in front of a mirror. Never had a good, long look at myself.

What the hell. Vanity was overrated. I moved on from the paintings to check out Christoph’s wardrobe—hey, the door was open, it wasn’t like I was prying or anything. There was a short row of suits that were sharper than I’d expected, and I wondered what he’d look like in one of them. The night we’d met, he’d been dressed casual, and he’d looked pretty good in that.

I glanced over at him now. He’d shaved—must have been tricky around those scars—and changed into jeans and a soft shirt. The whole look was smarter than I’d have expected—was he trying to dress for authority? Maybe he was just reacting against the crap clothes he’d been wearing the last couple of days. The shirt was a washed-out dark blue, and it suited him.

Suddenly I felt a mess—but it was too late to do anything about it now. I turned back to Christoph’s bookshelves, figuring they wouldn’t judge me.

“What will you do now?” Christoph asked.

“What do you mean? We went over this—we wait and see if Dr. Asshole Leitner takes the bait.” I didn’t look up from my perusal of his reading tastes. There was the predictable load of German authors I’d never heard of, plus a couple who rang a faint bell. At one end, a bunch of English paperbacks—Jack Kerouac, Harper Lee and Anthony Trollope. Go figure. I pulled out
On the Road
and flicked through for old times’ sake.

“Then you’re staying?”

I put the book down and turned to stare at him. He kept on looking at the ceiling. It meant I could only see one half of his face.

The half with the scars. My gut clenched as I realized he was doing it deliberately. “What the hell is this? You got your house back, so now you’re kicking me out?”

That made him roll over and look at me. Damn, that gaze was intense. “No. But I thought you’d want to leave.”

It was what I’d said, wasn’t it? That I’d come back to the house with him, and after that, it’d be over. “It’s not over,” I said quickly. “We still have to see this through. Confront Leitner. Deal with Schreiber, if he recovers. I’m not in any hurry.” I held his gaze, willing him to see… Hell, I’m not sure what I wanted him to see. More than I could say out loud, anyhow.

Christoph’s expression softened, so I guessed he’d seen something, at any rate. “Well, I have plenty of rooms. You can have your old one back, if you like.” His voice held a hint of a challenge.

Finally we were speaking my language.

Chapter Twenty-One

I sat on the bed, close to him but not touching, leaning back on one arm like I was relaxed. I wasn’t relaxed. “I like this room better.”

“It’s already occupied,” Christoph said, his gaze drifting slowly along my body, so heavy I could feel it. The soft suggestion of a caress had me longing for the real thing.

I smiled. “That’s part of the attraction.” I stretched out on my side beside him, a mirror image.

Christoph drew in a deep breath and, closing his eyes, let it out again. For those few seconds, he seemed scarily vulnerable. Like I could reach out and do whatever the hell I wanted to him.

Shit. Didn’t he realize he didn’t have to surrender a goddamn thing to me?

All my life, I’d been putting up walls around what passed for my heart. Telling myself nothing and no one would ever touch it again. Maybe that’s why it’d taken me so damn long to notice Christoph had crumbled them with a glance.

“Do you want me here?” I blurted out, suddenly unsure.

His eyes snapped open. “Yes.”

Fuck. Was there ever so much heat, so much desire in one short word? I reached for him blindly, drawn by the need in his eyes that matched my own. He’d nearly died today. A lucky blow by Schreiber or a different decision on my part, and I’d have been alone now. Facing God knew what torment at Sven’s hands. But that part wasn’t real to me, somehow. Christoph’s death, though—I could picture that in 3D, surround sound conveying the timbre of his death rattle. Christoph made a small, wordless noise as my fingers dug deep into his flesh, trying to anchor him to this world. To me. He frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but I couldn’t face it, whatever it was. I stopped his lips with a kiss that bruised and soothed as I tried to drink in his very soul.

His mouth was incredible—hard, demanding, his tongue exploring me with barely banked aggression. Had I ever been this hungry in my life? I wanted him—needed him. Had to reassure myself, suddenly, that he was real, alive. I forced him down with my body, onto his back, and I straddled him desperately, pressing us together as if I wanted us to join up, become one.

I’d thought I’d been handling things well. But I’d been lying to myself. All the heat and horror of the day was spilling out of me right now as I smothered Christoph with my desperate need for closeness, for life itself.

“Leon,” he gasped. My chest tightened and seemed to shiver as he said my name.

“It’s okay,” I said, but I wasn’t sure who I was talking to, me or him. “I need you,” I added, because it was the truth.

“How?”

“In me. I want you in me.”
I’m not… I don’t do this for everyone. Not even most everyone.
I wished I could say it.

Fingers fumbled at the fastenings of my jeans—those same fingers that had seemed so strong, so certain before. I rolled off of him onto my side to make it easier and gave a shuddering groan as the zipper finally came undone. I wanted him to touch me—oh, God I wanted it—but instead he tugged at my jeans until finally I kicked them off. My underwear followed quickly. Christoph pushed up my shirt, too impatient to wait for me to get it off.

“Not fair. You need to be naked too.” He leaned back, and I undid his shirt with shaking hands. The soft fabric was warm from his body as I slid it off his shoulders. I felt a crazy urge to lift it to my face and breathe in his scent—but damn it, I had the real thing here. I tossed the shirt aside and waited impatiently while Christoph slid out of his jeans and boxers in one fluid movement.

I hadn’t gotten a good look at him before. I made damn sure I didn’t make that mistake twice. His cock was a thing of beauty, rising proudly from its nest of light brown curls. It had a slight bend to the left, as if it was leaning over, trying to reach me. I liked that idea. Hell, effort should be rewarded. I slithered down the bed to take him in my mouth, the salty, male taste of him only making me hungrier. How the hell had I waited so long to do this?

Christoph let out a deep groan. I sucked him as deep as I could without gagging, then lifted back up until only the crown of him was in my mouth. I got busy with my tongue, running it around the head, teasing at the slit and that little place on the underside that always makes me go wild when guys give it the attention it deserves.

“
Fuck!
” Christoph damn near lifted us both off the bed as his hips jerked convulsively, his cock doing its best to poke a hole in my cheek. I figured I’d better leave off if I wanted more than this from him.

And God, I wanted more. I needed more. I lifted my head, the salty taste of his precome still filling my mouth. “Got any condoms?”

Christoph nodded and reached over to his bedside drawer, grabbing a handful of foil packets. He handed one to me and lay back to see what I’d do with it.

I guess he was wondering if I’d chicken out again. No chance of that. I ripped open the condom packet and rolled the latex gently over his erection. Then I searched around in the mess of foil packets until I found one that was lube and drizzled it over him and over a couple of my fingers.

As I reached behind to open myself up, Christoph came back to life. “Let me,” he said, pushing me gently onto my back. I pulled my legs up to give him access, and he shoved a pillow under my ass. I was expecting him to get right down to it, so it caught me by surprise when he bent down to take me into his mouth.

I guessed I must have something of a BDSM kink of my own, because lying there knowing the mouth around my cock could sprout vicious fangs at any moment was shockingly, unbelievably hot. I groaned as Christoph’s tongue rasped up the length of me, stopping at that spot I’d teased on him earlier. “You’re…gonna…kill me, you know that?”

And then he shoved two fingers up my ass. I nearly came right then, holding myself back by sheer bloody-mindedness. I guess he could tell how close I was as he didn’t take too long stretching me out. Smoothing the lube over his sheathed cock, he pushed my legs back farther and lined up—then stopped, the bastard. “Are you ready for this?” he asked, looking me in the eye.

“Asshole. I’m ready.”

His lips quirked, and he pushed forward. I felt myself stretched wide to accommodate the blunt head of his cock, then filled so damn full I couldn’t believe my body could take it—but God, I wanted it. I wanted it all. For the first time in way too long, I felt whole again. Complete.

“More,” I gasped, willing my muscles to relax and let him in.

Christoph’s expression was tense, almost pained as he drove into me with glacial slowness. He swore softly, his eyes screwed up tight—then opened them to stare at me without speaking. There was that same scary vulnerability about his expression for a moment, and then it softened, dwarfed by my own need for closeness, for him, that must have been written on my face like a goddamn neon sign.

“You can move,” I told him probably a little sooner than I should have, but damn it, I was as desperate as he had to be for things to get going properly. He moved—and then I was past all coherent speech. I could feel every inch of him sliding in and out of me, owning me. Piercing my soul as he penetrated my body.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered, and I was only too happy to obey.

I groaned with relief as my hand wrapped around my aching cock—and again as Christoph slammed into me, hitting my gland and sending a jolt of electricity through my balls. His hands were on my hips, pulling me onto him as he thrust forward again and again. I tried to keep to his rhythm but my coordination was shot to hell. It didn’t matter though—every slap of his balls against my ass marked another level of sensation. I climbed higher and higher, almost afraid to let go and fall—but then there was no turning back. The pressure in my balls built up and up until finally I gave a strangled cry as I went over the edge, shooting my load all up my chest. Christoph muttered something I couldn’t make out, and his jaw went slack as he followed me on that leap. Feeling him come wrung an extra spasm out of me that was almost painful, I was so damn sensitive. I gave a deep groan as my vision went black for a moment.

When my eyes started working again, I saw Christoph was kneeling above me, breathing hard. His chest was heaving and slick with sweat, and his hair hung around his face like silk, brushing the scarred side and the unblemished side with equal softness. His eyes were the deepest blue I’d ever seen, and they were fixed on me as his lips quirked up again in that half-smile of his.

He was beautiful.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I don’t know how many hours had passed before I woke up with my heart racing—sitting bolt upright. Had it been a nightmare?

No. It came again—an anguished, desolate howl that split the night and filled the house with despair. Beside me, Christoph had turned on the lamp and was already pulling on his pants. “Silke,” I said, unnecessarily.

He put a hand on my shoulder. “Yes. Schreiber must have died. I’ll see to her. Go back to sleep.”

Like
that
was going to happen.

I guess he caught my expression. “If you can,” he amended. “If not, I think Ulf might be awake too.”

Damn it. I heaved a sigh, then hauled my ass out of bed, pulled on my jeans and headed off to Ulf’s room. The kid was sitting up in bed, hugging his knees. “Hey,” I said.

He gave me a shaky smile. “Hey. Was that…?”

“Schreiber’s dead, yeah. At least, Christoph seemed pretty certain. Mind if I…?” He shook his mop of red hair, and I sat down on the bed. “You okay?”

He nodded. “I don’t get why Silke’s so upset. He wasn’t very nice to her—he never let her go out, and he always ordered her around.”

I shrugged. “I guess he thought he was protecting her. I mean, hell, I won’t be nominating him for any parenting awards, but I guess in his own, twisted way he was looking out for her.”

“And now she’s got your American friend.” He looked sad. I felt bad for him, although in all honesty, I figured Silke was better off with Jon. Ulf was pretty naive, for a werewolf.