Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
Never expose your throat.
ALISTAIR
Thank the gods. All of them. Every single deviant troublemaker who lords over the realms with their capricious favor and hedonistic meddling. I’ll worship them all diligently for the rest of my miserable life if it means I get a taste of the angel.
Life on the Fringes is crowded with monsters, yet the real beast devouring us all is loneliness. It sunk its teeth into me long before I moved here and hasn’t let up. Somehow, though, Celine appears immune to it. She has Luca, her friends at the club, and a fire that seems unquenchable.
I want that. I want her.
Watching her started as a way to pass the time, but quickly spiraled into something of an obsession for me. I make a living trading information, but I’ve never coveted anyone’s secrets like I covet hers.
Celine wants to use me as cover, bait, and ally? Done. It gives me the opportunity to return the favor. Forget the wind beneath her wings, I’ll be the rug beneath her feet if she gives me an opening. Then maybe I’ll finally be able to make sense of this pull she has over me.
Her breath catches as I tease her about my bite, and my instincts hum. She’s not against it. No, this ferocious creature, sent from the heavens to tempt me, is curious.
I don’t mix business and pleasure. Ever. But I would make an exception for her.
“Would you like that?” I whisper calmly, thanking the gods for my vampire traits. On the inside, I’m trembling with excitement, completely primed to cock this entire thing up. But on the outside, I’m nature’s biggest tease.
“Alistair, I’m at work,” Celine protests.
I’m glad one of us remembered. Touching her is all I can think about. Rolling my bottom lip into my mouth, I imagine sinking my teeth into her neck and driving her mad with pleasure. My fangs throb.
Sex is sex. Biting is punishment. And blood . . . well, blood is food. By choice, I’ve never mixed the three, but Celine doesn’t know that. I lick my fangs. I could do it now, in this hallway. But if someone walked by . . . Fiery rage consumes me, then turns to ice in my veins.
I can never lose control with her. I know that. That side of me is too dangerous, too cruel, too exacting to let anywhere near her. Could she be as immune to my darkness as she is to the loneliness? I hope to never find out.
Instead of sinking my fangs into the throbbing pulse at her neck, I pull her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles. “I’m happy to answer any questions you have about my kind, angel, but in the interest of time, let’s say you greatly enjoy my bite and all the benefits it provides.”
Her pupils blow wide, devouring the rich brown of her irises as she processes my words. “How long has our illicit tryst been going on?” I ask, watching with delight as the color rises under her cheeks.
Regaining her confidence quickly, Celine pops one hip to the side and leans into me, dragging her index finger up my chest. “Let’s say three months to be safe.
” Her finger reaches its destination—my mouth—and traces the edges of my lips.
“And before you get any ideas, keep those fangs to yourself, Alistair. I’m fine with a reasonable level of touching to make this believable, but nothing over the top. ”
She pulls her hand back and examines her crimson nails. I’m tempted to ask her to clarify what she considers a reasonable level of touching, but I stop myself before I can make such a foolish mistake.
Over the pounding bass and whistling crowd, I hear footsteps coming our way. For the ruse and the fun of it, I spin Celine around and press her against the wall, entwining our fingers beside her head. “Trust me, angel?”
She freezes. I wait, as her heart beats once, twice, three times. “For now,” she whispers.
I’ll take it. Inhaling her delicious scent, I scatter kisses along her shoulder and neck. When she tilts her head to the side to give me more room, I smile against her skin.
A throat clears. “I hate to interrupt, but I need to get in there.” Luca doesn’t sound sorry at all. He sounds like he’s chewing on gravel, and the only new information I get from his words is that the wall I pressed Celine against is actually a door.
I laugh. “My apologies, friend. I got carried away.”
Celine blinks, glancing over my shoulder at Luca, then shoves me away roughly. I stumble to the other side of the hall, and my cock stiffens at how easily she moves me. Gods . . . Let her be this rough with me all the time.
“He’s insatiable,” she says, her voice husky, but missing the annoyance I suspect she was going for.
“I bet he is.” Luca drops both hands to her hips to nudge her away from the door. The move is possessive and practiced. He’s marking his territory. “If you don’t mind,” he mutters.
Celine narrows her eyes, her jaw clenching. “I don’t love your tone,” she says, following Luca into what appears to be a storage room. I trail after them and close the door behind us.
“Yeah? I don’t love watching you get humped in the hallway while I’m trying to do my job.” Luca shrugs. Celine’s mouth drops open, then her wings begin to smoke ominously. “No. Nope. Absolutely not. Celine, I swear to the gods, if you set the fucking smoke alarm off again, I will lose my shit.”
“You’re an asshole,” she snarls. “This was your idea!”
Already, I’m less bored. Grinning, I sit on one of the nearby crates to watch them square off. This is the most entertainment I’ve had in ages. Neither of them even glance at me.
“Umm, no the fuck it wasn’t,” Luca scoffs. “I suggested you ask him for a fucking favor, not let him gnaw on your fucking neck while you grind on his fucking thigh.”
My, my, that’s an excessive number of F-bombs. He must be quite upset.
The silence that follows is more than tense.
Celine’s eyes shoot daggers at Luca as he digs around in a crate of liquor and refuses to look at her.
The longer he ignores her, the more her wings glow.
The snowy white feathers transform into a mesmerizing blend of reds, oranges, and yellows—burning embers brought to life.
Standing, I pop the smoke alarm off the wall and remove the battery . . . just in case.
“You’re not the boss of me, Luca,” Celine says, her voice dropping to a poisonous, seething whisper. “You might be my manager here, but I decide who gnaws on my neck. I decide who gets to touch me. And I certainly decide who I fuck.”
Luca rises from his crouching position, a bottle of whiskey clenched in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other. When he spins and glares at her, her wings erupt into flames, perfectly matching her fiery red hair. Gods. She’s magnificent.
“Celine—”
“And let me tell you something else, you judgy prick. If I want to fuck him”—She points at me angrily—“then I’ll fuck him. And it’s none of your damn business.”
“Please do,” I interject. “Whenever and however you want.”
“Stay out of this,” she snaps. I nod agreeably and shut my mouth, happy to watch the fireworks from the sidelines.
Luca closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths. “You’re right,” he finally says. “It is your business. Sorry I bothered you.”
His tone is flat. Celine’s wings droop in response, the flames burning out.
I squint, intrigued, as particles of ice gather on the feathers instead.
If Luca notices the change, he doesn’t mention it.
Instead, he steps carefully around Celine, keeping his hands to himself as he leaves the supply room.
That upsets her. I frown and point at the door. “Do you want me to drag him back? I’m happy to encourage him to issue a better apology. Perhaps on his knees . . .”
“No,” Celine says, shaking her head as if she’s trying to erase whatever’s inside it. “Things with Luca are—”
“Complicated,” I finish her sentence, smiling to assure her that nothing about what happened bothered me.
“Not really,” she insists. “We’re friends and coworkers. That’s it. Disagreements happen. It doesn’t mean anything.” She winces visibly as she speaks, her eyes fluttering closed.
“I’m not arguing with you, angel,” I say softly, deciding to back away before I scare her off. “I will inquire about the orphans right away. In the meantime, don’t hesitate to call me if you need me for anything else.”
I reattach the smoke detector, then kiss her knuckles before she can protest. Her eyes are far away.
Whatever is going on in her head is bothering her a lot more than she’s willing to admit.
I don’t want to leave her in this supply room with that crushed expression on her beautiful face, but I trust my instincts.
Every one of them tells me if I push too fast, she’ll retreat.
So I leave the Fang for the night, the moon winking at me as I walk the dark streets. While I enjoy the coolness of the night air on my face, it makes me long fiercely for the sun. I haven’t felt its warmth since I was turned. It’s hard to think about with any clarity.
Vampires aren’t the same as the other supernaturals living as refugees on Earth.
We can be turned or born, and while human lore loves to paint us as immortal, that’s not actually true.
I live, age, and die, just more slowly than your average homo sapiens.
Unfortunately, that bit about the sun being our Achilles’ heel is true. Cliché as it is, I miss it.
Pushing my melancholy away, I increase my pace while remaining hidden in the shadows. There will be plenty of time to be moody later. Right now, I have a promise to keep.