VAIL TUGGED OFF his shirt and walked into the guest bedroom. Lyric was taking a shower; she wanted to scrub off the color edging her hairline, and the lingering rancid scent from the worm wraith. He’d used a few paper towels in the kitchen to wipe the itchy blood from his skin, both on his shoulder and his shin where the elevator arrow had nicked him.
He wandered the apartment, and walked into the brother’s bedroom, which was connected to the private bathroom where Lyric was. This room was surreal. White marble floor reflected his dark clothing like a ghostly shadow. The bedclothes were white, the electro chromic shades were white, and the light was some weird kind of bright that made the whole room glow like the inside of a marshmallow.
He turned off the light and sat on the floor at the end of the bed, because if he sat on the white counterpane, he’d leave a mark surely. Stretching his legs out before him, he tilted his head back onto the bed.
Cressida had a white room in which he’d spent a lot of time. It had been a room, but not a room. Lots of Faery spaces were outdoors but served as rooms. The entire room had been vast, all white, and tree roots had hung from above.
Part of Faery was underground, so at any time, when a person was in a room, or even village, roots could be hanging from the ceiling or even the sky. The main underground city on Unseelie territory was called the UnderCity. The first time he’d landed in the mortal realm, Vail had searched for roots in the sky.
He had liked to go into Cressida’s room and lie beneath the white willow that glittered as the breeze gently tousled its slender, silver-edged leaves. It had been quiet, almost a nonplace, far from the explosive color and noise of Faery.
He’d needed that respite from a world that was dialed to eleven on the sensory scale.
Until he’d come to the mortal realm, he hadn’t realized how shockingly vibrant Faery had been. And yet while he’d never worn sunglasses in Faery, now he wore them, perhaps against the dullness of the world. Weird.
He had to hand it to Cressida. She’d known he’d claimed the white room as a sort of sanctuary, and had allowed him his peace. He couldn’t deny she’d had her motherly moments.
Now, he closed his eyes and drifted to that quiet, white place, when he had often wondered if the day would come that he’d meet his real parents.
He’d dreamed Viviane would have long black hair and eyes as blue as his. Rhys had offered to show him a picture upon his arrival in the mortal realm, but Vail had refused to look at it. Still fresh from banishment by Zett, he hadn’t the heart or the courage to do so because it would mean acknowledging a part of him he had been taught to despise.
As for Constantine, he wasn’t so sure. Vail could never quite put a face to his image of the tall, stalwart, vampire lord Cressida had told him about. She hadn’t liked Constantine, which was apparent from her biting sneers as she’d spoken of him, but she had respected him in a manner Vail could never figure.
Cressida had been bonded to Viviane during the centuries that she had been buried alive. It had to do with the boon Rhys Hawkes had promised Cressida for enchanting his vampire—handing over his firstborn to the faery. As soon as Viviane had conceived, Cressida had known. She had become connected to Viviane. And when the warlock had bespelled Viviane, and she’d been placed beneath Paris in the glass coffin, Cressida had been tugged underground, as well. The Mistress of Winter’s Edge had existed in stasis for two centuries.
It was no wonder she’d hated Constantine.
Perhaps that was another reason to want him dead. Much as Vail would never resolve his issues with his reluctant stepmother, he didn’t like it when anyone he cared about had been wronged.
But how to care about a mother he’d never met?
Perhaps because as a child he’d created the image of a loving, smiling vampiress who would play with him and tell him stories and teach him the ways of his kind. Stupid kid stuff. Still, he would never deny his memories—they were all he had.
He thought now his memories must be similar to Lyric’s memories of summer camp. Better times. Innocent times. How odd was it they had so much in common, yet were so different?
You are more alike than you will admit.
True. But would his mother see his truth? Know him for the child she had never gotten to love? He did want to see her, but feared Viviane would not feel the same way. Much as Rhys tried to convince Vail she wanted him to visit, he sensed it could never be right. Even though Cressida had been the one allowed to choose between him and Trystan, Vail sensed in his heart that Viviane, enmeshed in madness, could not have missed her vampire son.
He bowed his head and thumbed the moisture from the corner of his eye. Stupid thoughts. What a wib. Imaginings, that’s all they were. Creations. He could never know the truth. And he didn’t want to know. Knowing would offer the hardest challenge, and he’d give it a pass.
“Shower’s all yours.”
Lyric stood in the doorway in an oversize white T-shirt that dipped to her thighs. Standing on her tiptoes, her thoroughbred gams drew Vail’s eye up to the wet fabric that clung at the intersection of her thighs.
Man, he wanted some of that.
“What’s wrong, enemy mine?” Lyric cooed, striding forward in a sexy hip-swinging gait.
“Your legs are amazing,” he said on a throaty gasp. “They go up to your neck.”
“What?” She tapped her neck. “You mean this little ol’ broken neck?”
She wouldn’t let go of that one. Deservedly so. “Yes, that pretty broken neck. I don’t believe I’ve ever looked upon a sexier sight.”
“You don’t believe in much.” She squatted before him, one knee between his outstretched legs, the other leg sliding straight out to her side. Cinnamon-scented steam haloed around her. “Tell me what you do believe in, Vail.”
He reached to cup her breast but she shoved his hand away. “No. You said we’d had sex too early. No touching for you tonight.”
He crossed his arms and exhaled. “So it’s your turn to torture me? Fine. What do I believe in? I believe no man has control of his life. We are all mere puppets on a predestined path. Nothing we do is going to make the world any better or worse. We’re here to experience and try not to screw it all up too badly.”
“Cynic.” She knelt on both knees, stroking a hand down her ribs and stomach.
Vail’s eyes traveled lower to where the wet shirt clung to her smooth mons.
“Want to know what I believe?” she said on a sultry whisper. “You have to take whatever it is you want from this world.”
“I can get behind that. We are two cynics.”
“Yes, but there’s one thing that isn’t for the taking.”
“Everything can be had if you know the angle or grift to get at it.”
“Nope.” She waggled a naughty finger before him, and he wanted to suck it—but he’d abide by the no-touching rule, because this kind of torture was fun. “You can’t take love. You can only get it by giving it.”
Vail cracked a goofy sneer. “Are you in the market for love, sweetie?”
She leaned in so close her breath warmed his mouth. A flutter of her lashes dusted his cheek. Her tongue dashed out to wet her lip. “Nope.”
Fuck. He was hard. Vail unbuttoned the top button of his jeans and blatantly eased a hand over his erection.
“Got a problem?” She eyed his crotch, and slid a hand to the apex of her thighs.
“Nothing you can’t solve.”
“I said no touching. Which includes no sex,” she said in a singsong voice. Her fingers flirted with the shirt hem, and Vail could not take his eyes from it. “I meant it.”
“Very well, why don’t you take care of yourself? You know you want to rub that hot, moist pussy, Lyric. Don’t do it for me. You want something, you gotta take it for yourself. Give me a fantasy.”
“Fantasy? You know, I do have a fantasy about a bad boy.” She flicked out the tip of her tongue, and when he thought she’d lick his face, she tilted her head back and moaned.
“Yeah? Am I a bad boy?”
“You let a faery kill your girl. I’d say that makes you very bad.”
“You’re my girl?”
“You said as much earlier.”
“I did. You are my girl.” Nice. “So tell me about this bad boy you dream about.”
He spied her fingers slipping under the hem of the shirt. She would undo him.
On the other hand, he could undo himself nicely with this visual tease. Easing a hand inside his pants, he assumed a good grip on the main stick.
“He’s tall, dark and likes to brood. Bad boys always brood. I think it’s in their DNA.”
Shiny brown hair swished over her shoulder, still wet from the shower. Droplets of water pearled on her pale flesh, slowly trailing toward her breast. She dipped her head and eyed him, mouth partially open to expose the soft pink insides.
“His hair is black as sin and he’s got eyes like stained glass. But I never spend too much time looking into them because I’m distracted by his mouth.”
Her tongue flicked over her lips. “It’s all about his mouth.”
Vail sucked in his lower lip.
“Sometimes it smirks, a little curl on this side.” She licked the edge of her mouth. “His rare smile makes my body stretch out and push up for his attention.”
Vail felt a smile wriggle his lips, but he suppressed it. “He’s always smiling when he walks that walk. That sexy, hip-swaggering walk that channels a panther’s sure strides. He calls it his strut. Makes me wet to see him coming toward me. I want to match the rhythm of his hips…”
Vail squeezed his hardness, not wanting to come until she did, but he knew women were slower than men, and damn—now she lifted the shirt. Her hips rocked, pushing forward, seeking the rhythm of the bad boy’s gait. She still straddled him but, surprisingly, did not touch him.
He gritted his teeth and stopped stroking, squeezing at the base of his erection to prolong the intense force that shuddered for release.
“Take your shirt off,” he growled. “I need to see all of you.”
“That’s what he says to me.” The shirt hit the marble floor. Lyric cupped her breasts and thumbed the nipples. “And he leans forward and draws his hungry gaze over my body. I want him, but when I reach for him, he retreats.”
She flashed him a wicked grin. “And always that sexy smile. I don’t need his touch.” She moaned as she squeezed her nipple. “But I’m hungry for it. To feel his tongue on my skin, knowing he’ll tease me until I scream.”
Vail swallowed. “Mercy.”
“He likes to tease. He knows I want him more than he wants me. He can have any woman. Why me?”
“She’s all he wants,” Vail hastened out, hissing as an intense climax built in his groin. “Finish yourself,” he managed. “Please.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Ch’yeah, right. You need to, sweetie.” He hardened his jaw. “Don’t you?”
“Yes, I do.” She began to stroke herself, this time putting her hand over his shoulder to lean against the end of the bed. Her fast breaths hushed against his ear. “Soon,” she whispered. “You able to wait so we can do this together?”
“Anything,” he mumbled. “If I’m bad—fuck—you’re naughty. Oh, Lyric!”
He couldn’t wait. But remarkably, when he cried out and released, she did, as well. The vampiress nuzzled her face against his neck to muffle her cry. He felt the tiny prick of fang—she pulled back, grinning like a drunken pussycat, and tapped her descended fangs. “Not going to tap you, goth boy.”
She rolled onto her bottom, and teased her wet fingers up his rigid abdomen where his come had splashed. She waggled a finger at him, then licked it clean. “I like ’em bad.”
* * *
AFTER THEY’D SLEPT a few hours, they stood on the balcony overlooking the city. It was around two in the morning. It was weird she’d slept, but Lyric had been running on empty lately. She needed blood. And while tempted to sink her fangs into Vail’s neck after their incredible Jack ’n’ Jill session, she was still leery of the faery ichor she knew pulsed through his veins. Good thing the sex controlled the hunger pangs.
“So we’re going to FaeryTown?” she asked.
He’d avoided touching her since they’d risen, and her skin tingled for his touch. But if he could stand not to touch her, she could certainly hold out, as well.
“We’re already there,” he said, and splayed a hand to indicate the streets below. “Your brother lives at the edge of it. Clever place to hide. Of course, he does have the elevator of death to keep him safe.”
“Leo doesn’t take risks.”
“Apparently.”
“So how do you know it’s FaeryTown? It looks like the rest of Paris to me.”
He went into the bedroom and returned with the small violet glass jar. “They’re everywhere, if you know how to see them. You’re going to have to see the enemy coming in order to stay away from him.” He opened the jar and tilted it toward her. “You willing?”
She nodded and allowed him to trace under her eyes with the stuff using his little finger. It smelled sweet and wasn’t so much greasy as viscous, and immediately blended into her skin.
“So, if vampires go to FaeryTown looking for a high, how do they see the faeries without this ointment?”
“The sidhe who service the vampires don’t wear complete glamour. They want the customers to find them. It’s the sneaky, fully cloaked ones you need to be able to see.” He studied his handiwork.
“Do I look like a raccoon now?”
“It’s kind of sultry,” he said, and tossed the jar up and down in a hand. “Do I get to call you goth girl now?”
“Goth boy was Leo’s name for you. But I’ll refrain from using it, too.”
“Fair enough.” With a nod over his shoulder, he said, “Take a look.”
She peered down the street, sighting humans walking briskly in the light rain that drizzled onto the cobbled streets and sidewalks, passing in and out of a supermarket with flashing red neon vodka signs.
From behind her, Vail’s hands caressed her hips and he pressed his groin against her ass. It didn’t take long for him to get hard, and she encouraged his arousal by grinding her backside against him.
So much for not touching. She wouldn’t mention the broken pact if he wouldn’t.
“Do they look like the faeries in the Lizard Lounge? What am I looking for?” she asked.
His deep whisper tickled her ear. “You’ll know it when you see it.”
She had slipped into the thin faery dress and now his hands moved around to caress her breasts. Lyric closed her eyes and moaned at the exquisite pain when he squeezed. The man knew how to summon the naughty side of her. Why she’d ever asked him not to was beyond her.
When she opened her eyes the man three buildings down flickered in and out of focus as he walked the street. It reminded her of how they did ghosts in movies, cutting out a few frames to give them a staccato like movement.
“I think I see one.”
Vail crushed his body along hers and, clasping his arms under her breasts, peered over her shoulder, but he was looking in the direction opposite to where she had pointed. “Yep, that’s a sidhe. No wings. Must be under his clothes.”
“How do you know? You don’t have the stuff under your eyes.”
“Looking out the corner of my eye, like I showed you to do earlier. Remember that, if you ever find yourself without the stuff.”
He unscrewed the jar cap and put some under each of his eyes, then leaned onto the railing.
“Is he looking for us?” Lyric asked.
“Could be. Could be looking for trouble. See the other? The female?”
While Vail’s hands massaged her breasts, Lyric sucked in her lower lip and scanned the street farther up. A woman in a pink dress flipped her long white hair over red and brown wings that hung heavily in the rain. Her image flickered and rain spattered off the luminous wings.
“I can’t believe it. Are they always everywhere like this?”
“Yep. But more so in FaeryTown.”
“It’s so curious how they flicker.”
“This realm tends to slow the sidhe’s usual movement so they flicker, but it’s virtually imperceptible on those faeries who have been here a long time. They adjust after a few months, and that makes them more difficult to see because they blend so well with the mortals.”
“I’m not sure I like this.”
His ministrations at her nipples stopped.
“No, I mean the sight. Keep doing that, lover.”
“Are you okay with this now? I thought we were slowing down? Not touching?”
“That was a stupid idea. I’m always okay with the two of us making love. But wait.” She turned and looked him up and down. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just checking, you know, for wings.”
“I’m completely vampire, sweetie. Love me or leave me.”
“So now you admit to being a part of my race?”
“I’ve never denied it.”
“True. But you know when you put vampires down for being filthy you’re also putting yourself down? You should never do that. You should be proud of what you are, Vail. I’m proud of you.”
“Ch’yeah, right. How does that work? I’ve done nothing worthy of your admiration.”
“You’ve saved my ass more than a few times.”
He slid a palm over the backside in question. “It is far too nice to let get harmed. Which reminds me… We need to take a look around FaeryTown. Maybe we can find someone to remove your mark.”
“You really do want to protect me.”
“I made a vow. And I meant it.”
“Then let’s do it. But before we go…” She bit her lower lip because his hand stroking her ass felt too good. “Why don’t you, um…do that thing you do?”
“With my fingers?” He flicked his fingers before her in demonstration.
She clasped his wrist and lowered his hand to her loins. “Yeah, that thing.”
“All right, but you have to look at me.” He moved in to kiss her, and as his lips connected with hers, his fingers parted her legs and slid inside her.
His intrusion made her soft and melty, opening her to his dark glamour. Lyric closed her eyes and tilted back her head to moan.
“Eyes on me, Lyric. Right here.”
Sucking in her lower lip, she held his gaze, which was sexily defiant. His blue irises were hot with desire, and his stare felt more intimate than what his fingers were doing. He played her well, stroking softly and then more sure.
“Oh, yes.” Her fangs lowered and Lyric grinned widely, showing her bright incisors to her lover. “You know exactly how to do that thing you do.”
“You ready to come?”
She nodded, and he caught her jaw with a palm, forcing her to maintain eye contact with him. The bad boy’s smirk revealed his wicked pleasure. Lyric pressed her mons hard against his wrist and fingers, taking from him what she wanted.
And he gave it to her.