Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
In the same chair Zuri had left her in, which was something of a relief, Elena was looking at one of the books Zuri had stacked on the side table for later. She still thought it was ridiculous that Elena hated reading, but she said she’d had over a hundred years of dry tomes and preferred movies.
“We’re going to try giving you her blood,” Zuri said before branching off into the kitchen to get the ring she’d sanitized.
When she’d returned to the main room, Elena looked like all of her dreams had come true. Putting herself between her and Marisol’s trembling body, Zuri handed her the ring. “No biting.”
“Oh, come on,” she whined. “It’s so much more fun if I?—”
“Has that ever worked for you, Elena?” Zuri snapped, unmoved by her big brown eyes and the fangs she knew were already sharp and ready.
“There’s always a first time for everything, baby.” Elena shifted in her chair, preparing herself for the gift of Marisol’s smooth skin.
Ignoring the term of endearment she refused to accept, Zuri turned to Marisol. A tank top wasn’t optimal, but it was loose, and Zuri didn’t trust herself or Elena if Marisol took off her shirt.
“We don’t have a lot of options. Are you comfortable sitting in her lap?” Zuri tried very hard to sound clinical. Tried to pretend she didn’t know that even without the bite, they were wading into dangerous waters.
“Yeah.” Marisol’s voice vibrated with the same nervous energy making her clutch her hands together. “Is that the only way?”
“There are only so many places to hide the scars. You don’t want people getting the wrong?—”
“Your inner thigh is always a fantastic option,” Elena interrupted, bottom lip caught between her fangs.
Zuri couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t risk getting turned on. Couldn’t risk compromising her judgment.
Before Zuri could object on her behalf, Marisol was moving toward Elena, straddling her. Her small shorts rode up her strong thighs, showing off the most tantalizing peek of what Zuri had to admit was a nice ass.
Control yourself , Zuri thought, gaze boring into Elena before she handed her the ring.
She’d only managed to get two steps away before Marisol’s hand was on her wrist, her touch gentle but revealing her clammy skin. As if Zuri needed proof she was as nervous as she looked.
Zuri should have kept walking. Shouldn’t have looked back at her. Shouldn’t have let Bambi gaze up at her with that freckled skin and flushed cheeks and enormous hazel eyes that bled every emotion in her body.
Fuck .
“Will you stay?” Marisol’s voice was barely audible, weighed down and thin. “I’ve never done this before,” she said because she was trying to kill Zuri.
Instead of reassuring her that Elena would not hurt her—that she was very experienced and wouldn’t take more than she needed—that Zuri couldn’t put herself on the line like this for some fucking stranger with heartbreaking eyes. Instead of anything at all, she drifted back to them.
I’m so fucking stupid.
Locking eyes with Elena, Zuri was transported to all the times they’d had a beautiful body between them. Moving from muscle memory because the rest of her was shutting down in an effort at self-preservation, Zuri stood behind Marisol.
Elena ran the tip of her tongue over one fang because she was working in concert with Bambi to kill her. Trying to think about anything but this , Zuri started reciting recipes in her head. She visualized making a sunburn salve even though it wouldn’t quell the fire burning her skin.
And then Elena pulled down Marisol’s loose tank top, revealing a new smattering of light freckles over her cleavage. Zuri couldn’t help the desire that roared to life at the sight, but she could control where she looked. Head tipped up, she counted the panels in her beadboard ceiling.
She didn’t have to be looking to know the exact moment Elena cut into Marisol’s skin. If it hadn’t been for Marisol’s gasp and Elena’s groan, Marisol reaching back to catch her hand in a vice would have told her.
“It’ll only hurt for a second,” Zuri whispered, one arm reflexively curling around her. Palm flat against Marisol’s sternum, she held her steady.
Every inch of her skin had flushed pink from the shock. As soon as Elena’s mouth was on the small incision she’d made high on her breast, Marisol leaned back into Zuri. Too weak to look away twice, Zuri bit the inside of her cheek when Elena collected the bright red blood with her tongue and clamped her mouth around the source.
Marisol’s breath hitched, a soft moan escaping her lips. Zuri felt the vibration against her own chest, the heat of it radiating through her. Covering Zuri’s hand with hers, Marisol intertwined their fingers. The contact so warm, so intimate. Her other hand went into Elena’s hair, pulling them both closer.
Pressed to Marisol’s body, Zuri wanted to close her eyes. Wanted to indulge in the sound of her breathing—breathing already on the verge of panting. On the sighs so soft that they would have destabilized her if they were falling against the shell of her ear.
Head tipped to one side and eyes slammed shut, Marisol let her weight fall against Zuri’s chest. With the hand Marisol wasn’t holding onto for dear life, Zuri brushed wavy, dark blonde hair from Marisol’s graceful neck.
Lips burning to quench a thirst she didn’t know she had, Zuri leaned in. Her skin smelled so good, she couldn’t pull away again. She couldn’t do anything but let her lips brush against the nape of her neck.
At the contact, Marisol started rocking her hips. Slow, rhythmic movements accompanied by the quietest moan Zuri had ever heard. Unable to resist, she pressed her lips to her warm skin, the taste of salt and arousal intoxicating.
And then Elena’s hand was running over Zuri’s thigh, cool and confident and familiar. Zuri leaned into it. Let herself pretend that there wouldn’t be consequences. That they could exist in a vacuum. That it was worth the price to feel something other than worry and confusion.
Marisol let go of Zuri’s hand and eagerly pulled her in. She urged Zuri to kiss her neck harder while trembling and grinding against Elena.
Like they were launching a coordinated strike, Elena’s roaming hand wandered over Zuri’s thigh and up her hip and under her shirt.
Zuri shouldn’t have reached for Elena. Shouldn’t have wanted her to move her hand into her waistband. Their situation was already so complicated. She couldn’t let it get worse.
Forcing her eyes open despite the desire pounding hard between her thighs, Zuri let go and moved back, breaking the spell before it consumed her. Before she let things go where she couldn’t want them to go.
“That’s enough,” Zuri lied, voice too soft.
Reaching back for her again, Marisol was so warm when she grabbed her thigh and silently asked her to return. Hips still rocking and shorts a quarter of the way up her?—
No .
“Elena, stop,” Zuri demanded. This time, she slipped her fingers in Elena’s silky hair and made a fist.
When she yanked her head back, she had to clench her teeth to stifle her curse. Before she could let the sight obliterate her good sense, she let go of Elena’s hair and wiped Marisol off her lips with her thumb.
Catching her before she could take it away, Elena grabbed her by the wrist and ran her tongue over her thumb as if not to waste a drop. But Zuri knew better. Knew that Elena remembered that the sight made Zuri’s body thrum with arousal.
Before she could slip away, Marisol was reaching for her again. Finding her other hand, tugging her closer. Bringing her back so Zuri was flush against her back. Pulling her arm around her like all she wanted in the world was to be held.
“That was…” Marisol’s voice was distant and thick with the same need blazing in Elena’s half-lidded eyes. The one that Zuri couldn’t let herself want to ignite. “Not what I expected.”
If only Bambi didn’t feel so fucking good pressed against her. Zuri shook off the thought, telling herself that she was only holding her while she came down from the shattering high of Elena’s mouth. It was normal aftercare. She’d done it for more than one perfect stranger before. It didn’t mean anything.
“Well?” Zuri snapped, pulse vibrating in her neck and wishing Elena couldn’t read every change in her body.
Elena’s gaze drifted up Marisol’s body, still moving ever so slowly, and landed on Zuri. With a lazy half smile, Elena made a sound in her throat.
“Well, I’d very much like to have sex with both of you right now?—”
With a sigh, Marisol gripped Zuri’s hand tighter and ran it down her abdomen. Giving in would be so easy. They could all die tomorrow and she would’ve deprived herself for nothing.
“And it was a delightful distraction from the pain.”
Shit .
Zuri focused on the point of the exercise. It wasn’t about having incredibly reckless sex with her ex and the poor woman she’d dragged into her disaster area. “I thought it would work,” she muttered.
She should have guessed nothing would ever be easy with Elena. Of course she was going to have to figure out how the hell to unlock a brand of magic she’d never seen in her life in order to save her.
“Maybe if I bite,” Elena said hungrily, fangs as long and pointed as Zuri had ever seen them.
“Put your erection away,” Zuri snapped, bringing her heart rate down and concentrating on the goal. “We don’t have time for your fuckery.”
Elena grinned, teeth appearing human again. “You sure? You used to love the way I fuck?—”
“If you want to get caught unable to stand by some vamp with a vendetta, then go ahead.” Zuri tore herself away from Marisol’s body. “Have at it. I’ll figure out how to fix both of you by myself then.”
Elena’s response was a breathy chuckle and an all too knowing glance. But she eased back, looking smug and irritatingly gorgeous when she put up her hands in performative submission.
Sliding off of Elena on noticeably wobbly legs, Bambi was flushed and sexy and so hard to look at. “Do you have a first aid kit?” Her voice, husky and breathless, followed Zuri into the kitchen.
God, did her voice have to sound like that?
Zuri turned away from her, pulse pounding harder with each step. She rummaged through a cabinet, pulling out a battered metal box. She didn’t need to look to know that Marisol was watching her, her presence a tangible heat against Zuri’s back.
Focus , she told herself, her fingers fumbling with the latch on the box.
“I can do it,” Marisol said from where she sat at the kitchen table, eyes glossy and voice still too soft. “It’s kind of the only thing I’m equipped to handle here,” she added with a soft chuckle.
“Don’t be stupid,” Zuri barked.
Instead of tugging her shirt down, Marisol pulled the tank top over her head and dropped it into her lap. Blue bra bright against her fair, freckled skin. Working as a nurse was apparently conducive to a Pilates body, athletic and strong.
Fuck my entire life.
“Elena’s saliva has a natural antiseptic,” Zuri said without adding that she didn’t like taking her chances with the little blade. She didn’t explain that she’d heal even faster if Elena had bitten her. Her brain was buzzing and she should speak as little as possible.
Marisol lifted her chin, offering the small wound on her chest. Zuri’s fingers brushed against her skin, a jolt of awareness shooting up her arm. Marisol’s skin was warm, soft, and impossibly tempting.
Zuri dabbed at the cut with a square gauze doused in alcohol, her movements brisk and efficient. She slapped a bandage over the cut, her gaze meeting Marisol’s for a fleeting moment. “There,” she said, her voice brusque. “You’ll be fine.”
Marisol nodded, her eyes still holding an unsettling intensity, like she was brimming with a thousand questions. Zuri turned away, her heart hammering against her ribs. She needed space, needed to clear her head before she did something stupid.
“I’m going to check the wards,” she said, her voice tight. “Alone.”