One With the Night (26 page)

“What are you doing?” she shouted.

Elyta was straddling Kilkenny again, working herself up and down over his stiff cock. She was naked this time. A heavy fall of dark hair concealed her back. Her narrow waist flared to buttocks like plump, twin teardrops. One hand rubbed herself between her legs. Kilkenny did not participate this time. He was barely conscious. His head lolled to one side. Elyta’s yips cycled up into a continuous shriek. Jane strode forward and grabbed her shoulder.

But her orgasm was done. She relaxed, a smile of satisfaction on her lips.

“Get off him,” Jane hissed. “What were you thinking?”

Elyta raised her head and shrugged off Jane’s grip. Jane staggered back against the wall. Was Elyta that strong? “It’s been two days since my needs were met. What did you expect?”

“I expected you not to abuse a man who is ill,” Jane gasped, pushing herself up.

“What does he care?” Elyta dismounted Kilkenny’s hips and reached for the lilac wrapper pooled on the braided rug. “And Flavio is not easy to subdue.”

“Where is Flavio?” Jane’s anger welled anew. Flavio had promised to watch Kilkenny.

“I’m still stronger than he is.” Elyta shrugged her wrapper up around her shoulders.

Kilkenny looked entirely unconscious. How could he sustain an erection in his condition long enough to satisfy Elyta?

Elyta glanced back to him. “I’ll keep him erect if you care to take a turn.”

“You’ll … You’ll keep him…? What do you mean?”

Elyta tied the belt of her wrapper. “Don’t you know? Since I’m stronger, I can raise his erection and encourage or suppress his ejaculation. It’s a matter of compulsion.”

“What is this … compulsion?” She’d heard them talk about it. Did she want to know?

Elyta raised her head. The amusement in her eyes rankled. “But of course you don’t know.” She laughed that tinkling laugh. “He wouldn’t tell you that, now would he? He might want to use it against you.”

“
You
tell me,” Jane said through gritted teeth. “Just tell me.”

“Perhaps a demonstration…”

Jane wasn’t sure she wanted a demonstration. Dared she leave Kilkenny? She was still trying to decide when Elyta’s eyes flashed red.

Jane froze. She tried to turn and stride out the door, but … she didn’t. She just didn’t. Elyta’s eyes were captivating. And then she felt it; the thrill between her legs, more intense than she had ever experienced. She had a terrible premonition.

“You see?” Elyta smirked. “I can make you want him. I can make you use him.”

Jane found herself moving toward the bed and Kilkenny’s insensate form. The need inside her was like to drive her mad. That didn’t mean she’d do Elyta’s bidding. She wouldn’t!

But she knelt beside him, and reached out her hand. She knew without being told what Elyta wanted. She wouldn’t do it! She struggled against the will that seemed to drench her. Slowly, her hand clasped his cock and began pulling on it. She wouldn’t! But she was. This wasn’t erotic. Yet she throbbed, wet and needing. She rubbed Kilkenny’s cock. He roused himself enough to moan. His eyelids fluttered and his chest began to heave. Jane rubbed the head of his cock with her thumb. She didn’t want to. She wanted to shriek.

“He’s been erect for hours without coming. You have so much sympathy? Let’s give him what he needs. Rub him harder.” Elyta’s voice was a sibilant whisper.

Jane slid her hand up and down Kilkenny’s cock, even as he rolled his head. She hated herself for her complicity, but she couldn’t stop. Elyta slid up behind her, watching.

It didn’t take long. Kilkenny’s abdominal muscles contracted. White fluid pulsed out across his belly. Jane was horrified. It seemed to go on and on.

When the last dribble had oozed out, he collapsed. Elyta handed her a towel.

Jane felt the bands of compulsion fade. Tears sprang to her eyes. She held one hand to her mouth. What had she done? Kilkenny was entirely slack. Shaking, she raised an eyelid with one thumb. His pupils were rolled up. She whirled on Elyta. “You … you bitch! Is this how you use your powers?” Her eyes widened in realization. A flash of Kilkenny’s horrified expression filled her. “You … you
made
him service you before, didn’t you?”

“Of course.” Elyta shrugged. “Don’t be so sour. I invited you to share. I was more than generous to one who was only made. How was I to know you were so ignorant?”

“That’s vile!” And to think she believed he had done it on his own … The image of his expression at the dining table, the fact that he could hardly eat his food … She’d been right when she’d guessed that a female vampire had used him sexually, and drunk his blood. And now she knew exactly how in excruciating detail.

“You are hardly more than human,” Elyta said with a sneer. “You have no right to judge one as powerful as I. We take what we want. Do men not take women if they are more powerful?”

“It isn’t right no matter who does it.” She wiped Kilkenny’s belly. “You may have killed him. Then we’ll never know whether this formula is your precious cure.”

Elyta drew her delicate brows together. “Hmmm. I hadn’t thought of that.”

Jane picked up his wrist and felt the tiny, erratic pulse. His breathing was shallow.

“Oh, very well.” Elyta pouted. Jane felt the rush of power behind her. She turned …

Elyta’s eyes were carmine, her canines extended over her lips. But this time there was no compulsion. She raised her wrist to her mouth and used one of her own teeth to rip her flesh. She licked at the wound. Blood welled and then began to spurt.

“What are you doing?” Jane gasped.

Elyta made a face as blood splattered her wrapper and pressed her fingers against the wound. “Giving him strength from the blood of a very old vampire.” She motioned Jane away.

“You can’t,” Jane said flatly. “You’ll reinfect him with your Companion.”

Elyta stopped and raised her brows. Jane saw acknowledgment pass through her eyes.

“Go. You’ve done enough harm.”

Elyta hesitated, and then turned to the door. “I’ll send Clara for blood from the well.”

Jane just stared at her until she let herself out of the room.

But Kilkenny couldn’t drink the blood. Hours later when Jane could finally rouse him enough to get it down his throat, he vomited it straight up. Her father came bustling into the room, his notebook under his arm.

“How is my patient?” he asked cheerfully, opening his notebook and laying it on the small secretary desk. The pen and inkwell still stood in readiness from his previous visits.

Jane stood, so he could see for himself.

“Hmmm. Skin clammy. Color not good. Has he been able to eat?”

Jane shook her head.

“Periods of consciousness?”

“Enough to sip a little water, but he doesn’t seem to know me.”

“Not lucid,” her father muttered, scribbling. “Urine output?”

“None in the last eight hours.”

He frowned. Taking the knife he used to mend his pen from one pocket and a handkerchief from the other, he wiped the blade carefully. He bent over Kilkenny and made a small incision in his forearm. It bled sluggishly. Jane held her breath. Blood dribbled down his wrist and dripped onto the floor. The wound showed no signs of closing.

Her father turned to her, eyes gleaming. “Get me some gauze, Jane. He’s cured.”

CHAPTER
Sixteen

Callan opened his eyes. Light streamed through the window. He blinked against the brightness. He’d been having horrible dreams where Asharti turned into Elyta who turned into Jane and they all tormented him. The dream clung to him though his eyes were open. He was propped up on pillows. It took all his strength to move his eyes and look around. Blundell slept in the chair by the remains of a fire. The color in the room was strangely flat, the house silent.

Sunlight.

That should hurt his eyes, burn his skin.

It didn’t burn. It didn’t even really hurt his eyes now that he was getting used to it.

He sucked in a breath and came to full awareness. His head throbbed. His body ached in every sinew. He tried to lift his head but the effort was too much and he fell back against his pillows. He seemed to be naked underneath the counterpane. There was no trace of either Elyta or Jane. The room was warm, and his bare arms lay outside the coverlet.

On one was a bandage.

Grunting with effort, he raised his hand and ripped the bandage from his other forearm, revealing a cut, its edges swollen together but not healed. Tears rose to his eyes.

He was human again.

*   *   *

When Jane woke she knew it was already dark outside. She’d slept all day. She and her father hadn’t revealed that Kilkenny was cured. They’d decided to wait and see if he lived. For a while it had been touch-and-go. Jane was sure the ejaculation had killed him. She’d been consumed with guilt and anger at Elyta. It made her bold about keeping Elyta away from him. Flavio gave Elyta a soothing draught laced with laudanum to help her bear her privations.

Jane had watched over him all day, and then last night, Kilkenny began to rest more comfortably, his heartbeat regular if weak, his fever abated. Jane was so relieved. She finally felt able to entrust him to her father’s ministrations during the sunlight hours.

Now she sat up in bed, her embroidered night rail of white linen tangled around her. The cure was real! She could hardly wait to take it. It would be an ordeal. But she was blessed with a strong constitution. She’d take it this very night. The whole experience would be behind her soon enough. She got up and threw on a wrapper of gray-striped lustring.

She had to see Kilkenny immediately. She paused, listening. Elyta and Flavio were down in the drawing room. She could hear the pout in Elyta’s voice from here. Someone bustled in the kitchen. Clara. Mrs. Dulnan would have been here today and gone. She smelled the fresh-baked bread. She put on no slippers, but tiptoed barefoot down the hall, hoping to avoid their attention.

He was looking at her when she opened the door. The startling, translucent gray eyes with a hint of green blinked at her. How she had missed those eyes! Purple shadows hung under them. He was pale, unshaven, but still damnably attractive. That thought made her contract.

She hurried in and shut the door quietly, grinning. He gave her a tiny smile in return. It was a soft smile, warm. It made her feel her guilt at what she had done to him the more. Her father, asleep near the fire, began to snore. Jane sat on the bed. “How is it?” she whispered.

She didn’t have to tell him what she meant. A little shadow passed through his eyes. “Good,” he said softly. He always said it like the word ended in a
t.
She had grown fond of a Scots burr. How had she once thought it barbaric? But he didn’t sound sure of himself.

“Well, you’re still weak from your ordeal,” she excused. “You can’t expect miracles.” She took his wrist. The shock of touching him returned, now that her worry had abated. It was all she could do to search for his pulse. It beat steadily back at her.

With a start she realized he might remember what she had done. She felt herself blushing to the roots of her hair. To cover her discomfiture, she rose and poured some water from the pitcher on the table by his bed into a glass. Even if he didn’t remember now, he might recall as he recovered. She couldn’t bear waiting for him to hate her. She’d have to take her medicine now.

She turned and cleared her throat. “I … I don’t know whether you recall … what … happened while you were ill.”

His eyes were wary. His examined her face carefully, questioning. Then his brows creased and disbelief chased pain across his face. Oh, he remembered all right. She searched for breath, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry. Elyta … but it doesn’t matter. I did it.”

“She used compulsion on ye?” he croaked.

She nodded, unable to speak around the great lump in her throat.

“Damn her! I should ha’ told you,” he managed.

Whether he meant about Elyta or about compulsion she couldn’t tell. “I’m so … ashamed,” she whispered.

“No’ yer fault.” His voice was hoarse with disuse.

“But I feel so … unclean.” Tears welled up.

“I know.”

He did know. Elyta had done it to him. And Jane had blamed him for it. “I’m sorry for what I thought when I saw you with her.”

He was about to speak again, but he looked so exhausted she bent and laid her fingers across his mouth. “Save your strength.” Here she was blathering on and wanting him to absolve her when he hardly had strength to speak. She looked down at the water glass in her hand. She was not exactly a paragon of solicitude. She sat beside him. “Drink now.” She lifted his shoulders forward. His hands clasped hers on the glass as she helped him drink. The feel of his body against hers sent the familiar thrills down to her loins. Was she so far from Elyta? The man was ill, for goodness sake!

“Do you think you could stomach some broth? I had Clara boil the carcass of our chicken last night with some vegetables.”

He nodded, swallowing.

With a start she realized he didn’t smell like cinnamon and ambergris anymore. The only scents were of man, the cream she’d used to keep his lips moist, and the lavender water with which she’d bathed his forehead. She was too close, with her arm around his bare shoulders.

His gaze circled the room and came back to her. He looked … disappointed.

“What’s wrong? Are you all right?” She laid him back down.

“I’m just … getting used ta it, that’s all.”

She managed a smile. “I can hardly wait to have that problem.”

Behind her, her father stirred and woke. “Humph!” he snorted, peering about. “Kilkenny, you awake?” He pushed himself out of the chair and staggered over to examine his patient.

“He’s better, Papa. I’m just going down to get him some broth.”

“Well, well, my boy,” her father chuffed. He leaned over and stared into Kilkenny’s eyes, then examined the wound on his patient’s forearm while he felt for a pulse. Her father nodded sagely. “Welcome back to the human condition.”

“Thankee, both o’ ye,” Kilkenny croaked.

Jane smiled at him, then turned to her father. “So Papa, I think there’s another dose left in the batch you made. We have more than enough laudanum. Clara can help with Mr. Kilkenny. So I can take the formula this very night.”