The Mage in Black (31 page)

The introduction of blood play changed the game. Slade pushed me back against the edge of the desk. He pulled off my tank top, exposing the black lace bra underneath. Soon the bra joined the shirt on the floor. And then his hot, wet mouth was on me. The nipple swelled and tightened. The sharp pain of fang to sensitive skin. I clenched my teeth and grabbed a fistful of his auburn hair. The pleasure–pain sensation of him pulling on the wound almost made me come.

Need’s claws dug into me. This would be no sweet reunion of bodies. No earnest search for mutual fulfillment. I was no longer capable of worrying about right or wrong. My nerves felt exposed and raw, and the only thing that could soothe them was release.

Slade took the hint and grabbed my hips, lifting me onto the desk. Fitting himself between my thighs, he pressed himself to my core. Layers of clothes combined with his hardness and my wetness to create delicious friction.

He nuzzled my throat, breathing deeply at the jugular. “I want to eat you alive.”

Not an idle threat from a vampire. I pushed him away roughly. “No veins. Just fuck me already.”

His swollen lips lifted into a smile. “With pleasure.”

His warm palm pushed against my collarbone. Pushing back with my hands, I shoved the papers behind me off the desk and lay back. Overhead, the lights crowned his head like a halo on a fallen angel, casting his face in shadow.

Good
.

His hands at my zipper. The scrape of jeans at my hips. Lifting my ass to accommodate their trip south. I spread my knees without shame. Cool air tickled my hot flesh, heightening the anticipation.

He’d taken off my pants but left my panties in place. Not out of any concern for my modesty. But because he wanted to rip them off me. As they fell to the floor, I watched his hot eyes caress me. I should have felt exposed and vulnerable, but instead I felt powerful. Filled with the sacred feminine knowledge I could control this male with my body.

Slade pulled my ass closer to the edge of the table, positioning me for easy entry. Then, thank the gods, the head of his cock pressed against my opening. He rubbed it there once, twice, coating himself with the slick. The pressure increased, and then, finally, he was inside. I arched my back and wrapped my legs around his waist, urging him on. He complied, his hips pistoning faster, harder, deeper.

His head was thrown back, the muscles in his neck corded with exertion. His jugular throbbed there, begging for my fang. The scent of warm blood and hot sex rose around us like vapor. My fangs throbbed in my mouth. My hunter instincts urged me to drink from him as he pounded inside me. To complete the circle. But I didn’t want that kind of connection with Slade. For a vampire there is no greater intimacy.

To distract myself from the bloodlust, I unwrapped my legs from his hips and perched them on the edge of the table. Coming up on my elbows, I used the newfound traction to give as good as I was getting. We slammed together like tectonic plates. Soon, the seismic shift began, a quaking somewhere deep in my pelvis. It radiated outward, growing in intensity as it spread.

I closed my eyes and surrendered myself to bittersweet oblivion.

I
woke up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding. It took me a second to remember where I was. I didn’t remember the dream, but the panic I’d woken with told me not to chase the shadowy images hovering on the edges of my mind.

As consciousness slowly rose, I felt a warm body under me. Raising my head, I looked up into Slade’s sleeping face. We must have passed out after our last workout on the couch. I swallowed and laid my head back on his chest.

The clock on his desk was in my line of sight. My heartbeat slowed to match the ticking of the seconds. I closed my eyes, not wanting reality to intrude.

Slade shifted under me. His arms came up around my back, and he sighed contentedly. Soon I felt the pressure of his lips on my hair.

I looked up. His eyes were open, and an intimate smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Hi,” he whispered.

“Hey.” I accepted the squeeze he gave me before I climbed off him in search of my clothes. He watched me get dressed with his arms behind his head.

“I owe you a pair of panties.”

I zipped my fly before responding. “You can make it up to me by waiving the blood tax so I don’t have to drink cold bagged blood for breakfast.”

As soon as I said it, guilt sparked as I remembered my promise to Maisie, but I tamped it down. I’d only promised I wouldn’t feed from humans as long as I was under the protection of the Hekate Council. That wasn’t an issue anymore. Besides, I didn’t have to kill anyone to feed. There were ways to do it that left the prey disoriented enough not to remember what happened.

He came up on one elbow. “Oh, I see how it is: You seduced me just so you could score a hot meal.”

I laughed out loud. His easy humor broke the lingering tension. “Yes, I’ve often found males can’t resist a hungry female in the midst of an existential crisis.”

He chuckled and rose. His hair stood up in tufts around his head. “Either way, of course I’ll waive the tax. It’s the least I can do after weakening you with my furious lovemaking skills.”

I snorted and sat down to pull on my boots. Of course, he was partially correct. A night of sex always left me famished. But the stress I’d been under was the real reason I needed to feed.

He took his time pulling up his pants before he paused. “I have to say, I never thought we’d be sharing postcoital banter again after all these years.”

I smiled, remembering the flirtation and heated glances he’d sent me since the moment we reconnected. “Liar.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Okay, I thought about it. But after you clocked me in the jaw, I knew better than to hope.”

“You deserved that.”

“Probably.” He inclined his head, conceding the point. His teasing expression disappeared and he hesitated before saying, “Should I assume you want to feed alone?”

The subtext to his question was clear. And the answer was, yes, I needed to be alone. I’d never enjoyed the awkward phase that followed sex. If he came with me, we’d be dancing around the subject all night. Plus, I never hunted with a partner. Too distracting. “Yeah.”

He smiled, but it was forced. “Try Times Square. The tourists make for easy pickings. Just make sure you don’t leave a trail.”

My fangs already throbbed in anticipation. I hadn’t had fresh blood in weeks, and the prospect made my adrenaline surge. I nodded. “Gotcha.” I finished zipping on my boots and rose.

“And Sabina?”

I turned and looked at him. “Be careful, okay?”

My stomach clenched. Already, things had changed. When he’d sent me off to Tiny’s, he’d said, “Don’t fuck it up.” But now I was just running out to feed and he was suddenly worried about me. On some level, his concern warmed me. Who didn’t like having someone give a shit about whether they came back? But on another, it put my guard up a little. When someone worried about you, it meant there were expectations. Ones I wasn’t ready to deal with. So I just smiled carelessly and said, “Don’t wait up.”

Times Square at night can blind a person. My sensitive eyes squinted at the swirling neon lights and flashing bulbs that invited worshippers to pray to the gods of consumerism. The area isn’t just rough on the eyes; it’s hell on all the senses. The scent of exhaust mixed with hot, putrid steam rising from sewer grates. Taxi horns and shouts mixed with blaring radios. Tourists who stopped to watch the lights on Broadway found themselves bumped and jostled by an erratic river of humanity.

I loved it.

I’m sure natives avoided the tourist-trap vibe, but to me, the place hummed with energy. The high was almost as good as the one I got from blood. Almost.

Sex with Slade had sent me over the edge, unleashing the hunger. But the truth was, I didn’t need just blood. I needed space. Slade and I made a lot of sense on paper. Common backgrounds, similar outlooks on life—we each understood how the other ticked. But if we were so right for each other, why couldn’t I muster any of the sweet anticipation that always accompanied finding a new lover?

If I was being honest with myself, I’d admit that sex with Slade had a lot more to do with running from my problems than with running toward a relationship with Slade. A slight prick of guilt accompanied that admission. Slade had been there for me when no one else was, but I didn’t believe he was looking for more than a few nights of mutual pleasure any more than I was. I still hadn’t changed my mind about leaving. Whether Slade agreed with that decision or not didn’t really matter. I had to look out for myself now. And right then, I needed blood more than I needed air.

I stalked through the crowds, past the megastores and chain restaurants. Underneath the urban stench, the perfume flowing through mortal veins teased me. My fangs throbbed at the promise of fresh blood. I wove my way through the crush, looking for an easy target. The problem was there were too many to choose from. I felt like a kid in a candy store, faced with the task of finding the perfect sweet.

The choices seduced me. Did I crave the teenyboppers dancing outside the MTV studio? Too young, I thought. Their blood needed time to mature. The guy with the “Repent” sign standing on the milk crate? I shook my head. His blood probably tasted bitter—like guilt.

Ah, there. Right there.

He had his eyes on a tourist’s purse. I had my eyes on him. He was young, built, rough. He’d be wasting away in jail within two years, tops. As I watched, he snatched the middle-aged woman’s wallet from her purse. She’d been too busy arguing with her husband to notice.

The mark took off running like a gazelle through a sluggish herd. I took off after him. He took a right on Forty-eighth Street and ducked behind a building. I found him in a dark corner, going through the wallet. Amateur.

“Whatcha got there?” I could have just taken him without the banter. But I enjoyed drawing out the anticipation.

He dropped the wallet and pulled a knife with a wood-and-brass handle. “Back off, bitch.”

I snorted. “Put that toothpick away.”

He jabbed the knife in my direction. “I’ll cut you.”

“Not if I stab you first.” I sank my fangs into him before he could blink. He struggled, of course. But the sound of metal hitting concrete told me he’d dropped the knife.

He smelled of desperation. It mixed with the scent of smoke in his hair and the cheap cologne he’d applied by the bucketful.

Oh, his blood was a potent brew—hot and rich. Young males always offered the biggest high. Of course, the spliff he’d smoked before heading out for the night also helped. I’d be craving snack cakes and pizza within the hour, but I didn’t care. My cells greedily consumed his vitality. My nerve endings buzzed from the high.

Eventually, his body went limp, and I let it slide to the pavement. I hadn’t killed him, but he’d need more than cookies and juice when he woke up. Grabbing some discarded boxes, I covered him. By the time he woke or someone found him, I’d be long gone. I grabbed the paring knife and stuck it in my boot before I walked away.

After feeding, I walked in the opposite direction of Vein. I told myself I just wanted to enjoy the night a little longer, but the truth was I wasn’t ready to face Slade or reality. Not yet. For a little while longer, I wanted to enjoy the blood surging through my veins. I wanted to roam the night like a real vampire again. The sun wouldn’t rise for several hours, bringing with it a new day and tough decisions to be made.

For several blocks, I was content to just experience the pulse of New York beating around me. The blood had heightened my senses, and with every step there was a new scent, a new sight, and new sound to experience.

After a while, though, the shadows of Central Park loomed up ahead. My steps faltered. I looked around, trying to get my bearings.

Now that I’d escaped the dense forest of skyscrapers, I could see the sky. To the west, the full moon was a heavy crimson orb. The Blood Moon. My stomach dipped. With the chaos of the last couple of days, I’d forgotten all about the festival.

It didn’t matter, really. Not anymore. What did matter was that I didn’t have to worry about running into any mages in this part of the city. They’d all be up in Sleepy Hollow for the festival.

I turned right on West Fifty-ninth instead of heading into the park. With the trees of the park whispering in the breeze on my left and the cacophony of the city on my right, I felt pulled in two directions. I kept my eyes straight ahead, not giving in to the tension on either side.

About a block later I heard flapping wings, followed by a screech. I stopped and looked into the shadows. A pair of red eyes blinked at me from a tree just inside the park. I hadn’t seen Stryx in days. So much had been going on, I hadn’t even noticed his absence, to be honest. Seeing him now made the hair on the back of my neck prickle. But then I remembered Maisie said she’d send me a message. Had she sent Stryx?

As I neared his tree, Stryx took flight, leading me farther into the woods. I followed but pulled my gun just in case. There’d been too many surprises since I’d come to New York not to take the precaution.

Finally, the owl stopped on top of a bridge arcing over the trail. The park was quiet. A curfew kept most normal people out this time of night.