The Blood Coven - Stake That Part 7

"That's not a stake. It's a chunk of wood."

"Well, it's . . . not. . . finished yet," I say, defensively, lowering the weapon. "I need to carve it. Embed it with my own essence." Wow, that sounds a lot dumber when it comes out of my mouth.

"Bwahahahaha!" Jareth continues laughing at my expense. "What are you going to do? Give the evil vampires splinters?"

I can feel my face heat with embarra.s.sment, which is sooo annoying. How dare he make fun of me? I have been put on this earth to slay his kind. One false move and I'll go all destiny on his a.s.s.

Somehow. Though probably not with this particular stake. . . .

Grrr . . .

"Shut up!" I cry, unable to come up with one of my infamous Rayne comebacks. "Stop laughing at me."

Jareth sighs, reaching up to wipe the b.l.o.o.d.y tears of mirth from his eyes. "Oh, Rayne," he says, shaking his head. "You're precious, you know that?"

"Well, you're just lame and annoying." Why does it seem like I've totally lost the banter battle here?

Jareth holds out his hand. "Give me the stake."

Oh, yeah, right. Like I'm going to fall for that one. It may not be finished, but it's the only weapon I've got. I hide it be-hind my back.

"No effing way."

Jareth sighs. "Just for a minute."

"Why? So you can render me completely defenseless and suck me dry?"

"With that as your weapon, you already are completely defenseless, sweetie."

I sigh. I know he's right. Reluctantly I hand over the stake. Stupid Slayer Inc. for giving me such a pathetic weapon. After all, Buffy the Vampire Slayer got swords and axes and cross-bows. Is that so much to ask for?

Jareth turns the stake around in his hands. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a Swiss Army knife. I involuntarily jump back.

"Relax," he says. "I'm going to help you carve."

He clicks open the blade and starts running it across the wood, shaving off chunks. I watch, mesmerized, as a pretty nice stake emerges from the mess.

"I am a sculptor by trade," he explains. "Mostly my carvings are of stone, but the principle is the same." He hands me the stick and knife. "Now you try. Run the blade down, away from you."

I do as he instructs, slicing into the wood.

"No. Like this." He comes around behind me and takes my hands in his and guides me through the next stroke. "There you go," he says in my ear.

Now, for the record, I must repeat here that he is, without a doubt, the most annoying vampire in the known universe and I can't stand him. In fact, if they said he was the last blood mate on earth, I'd choose to remain human just to stay away from him. If he was the last man on earth, I'd turn lesbian. If he was the last person on earth, I'd become a nun.

That said, he really is freaking HOT. And when I feel his cool breath in my ear as he helps me carve, my body totally betrays me and gets all mushy inside. Which is so frustrating! Gah!

"Okay, I, um, think I've got it now," I say, desperate for him to take a step back before I do something really stupid, like turn around and kiss him. "Thanks."

To my relief (and disappointment if I'm being totally honest here) he lets go of my hands and retreats to the bed. He sits down, watching me with his intense blue eyes. I have to force myself not to s.h.i.+ver under his gaze.

Focus on the wood, Rayne. Less thinking, more carving.

"There!" I say about ten minutes later. "How does that look?" I hold the stake up for his perusal.

He walks over and takes it from me, examining it with a critical eye. "That's actually pretty good," he says, sounding a little too surprised for my liking. But secretly I'm pleased. "You're a natural."

"Natural Born Killahh!" I quip.

He chuckles. "Let's not get carried away. Just because you can carve a stake, doesn't mean you can stab someone with it."

"Gonna teach me that, too?" I tease.

His face darkens. "No."

The simple word seems to hold a whole lifetime of stories. He's definitely got to have some deep, dark torment and I'm dying to ask him what it is. But we barely know each other and also there's that whole thing about how we don't even like one another to contend with, so I decide to let him off the hook. "Okay, no biggie," I say with a shrug. "Thanks for helping me carve it though."

"Not a problem," he says. "As long as you promise never to use it on me."

I'm about to crack a joke, but he looks too serious at the moment, so I let it go. "It's a deal," I say instead.

He smiles. "How about we go into the Post-Bite Lounge for a bit," he suggests. "See if we can pick up any gossip."

"Post-Bite Lounge?"

"Yes. You know how after giving blood at the Red Cross you can feel a little light-headed and queasy? Same thing after being sucked. So they have a lounge where they serve cookies and orange juice to the humans before they send them back into the world."

"Ah." Wow, these vamps think of everything, don't they? "Okay, cool. Let's lounge it."

I stand up and head toward the door.

"Uh, Rayne?"

I stop and turn around. "Yeah?"

He pauses, then says, "This is going to sound weird, but..."

"Everything is weird at this point. I doubt anything you could say could make it any weirder."

I can see Jareth's hard swallow from across the room. "You don't have a bite mark."

Okay. I was wrong. That is definitely weirder.

I c.o.c.k my head in confusion. "What?"

"You're undercover as a human who likes being bitten by vampires. You just spent time with a biter. Now we're going into the Post-Bite Lounge. People might notice that you don't have any marks on your neck."

"Oh." I reach up and touch my neck. Hm. He's right. "You think that'll raise a red flag?"

"I don't want to take any chances. We can't blow our cover. This is too important."

"Right. No. We shouldn't." I chew at my lower lip. "But. . . oh." I suddenly realize what he's suggesting. Am I up for that? To be bitten by him? I guess I don't have a choice, do I? Sacrifices for the cause and all that.

"Come here," Jareth instructs.

I walk over to the bed and sit down beside him. "Is this gonna hurt?" I ask, realizing I'm trembling. What is wrong with me?

I've wanted to be bitten by a vampire for like EVER.

Now I'm finally getting my chance. Of course, this type of bite won't turn me into a vampire. You have to be injected with their blood for that. But still. . . how cool, right?

So why am I sooo nervous?

"My fangs have an instant numbing solution that's injected at the moment of penetration. You won't feel a thing." "Oh. Okay,"

I say, not feeling all that much better for some reason.

Jareth reaches over and brushes my hair away from my neck. I suddenly feel open. Exposed. Vulnerable. I swallow hard and close my eyes. I can feel his breath on my neck as he lowers his head. His lips brush lightly against my sensitive skin and I involuntarily let out a s.h.i.+ver.

"Ready?" he whispers softly. I can feel his lips forming the word against my flesh. It's kind of erotic, to tell you the truth. I bite down on my lower lip.

"Uh huh," I say, my voice suddenly as squeaky as Sunny's.

Moments later I feel a little pressure on my neck. Just a pinch and then . . . ecstasy.

I am so not going to be able to describe to you guys how awesome it feels to be bitten by a vampire. There aren't human words. It's better than Oreo ice cream sliding down your throat on a hot summer's day. Better than slipping into a steamy bathtub on a crisp fall afternoon. Better than curling up by a fire on a freezing winter's night.

It's better than anything I can possibly think of. Not that at that moment there's much thinking going on in my head. I'm just enjoying. Completely and utterly enjoying the sensations coursing through my veins.

It's heaven. Absolute heaven.

My head lolls backward and I let out a moan of pleasure. "Oh, G.o.d," I cry. "Don't stop."

But he does. I guess he has to, seeing as he's not out to drain me dry. Not that I'd have minded being drained dry at that particular moment. In fact, I would have embraced my death with open arms if that sensation were to continue. Now I totally understand why it was easy for vampires to survive in the old days when they didn't have blood donors.

Once bitten, totally smitten.

His fangs retract. The electric current zapping through me clicks off like a light switch. The pleasure is gone. The ecstasy evaporates. I feel empty and alone and needy and desperate for more. No wonder this place is so popular. One bite and I already feel completely addicted.

I lift my head and open my eyes, looking over at Jareth. He's wiping his mouth, looking horrified and flushed and fl.u.s.tered beyond belief.

"Uh, there you go. You're bitten," he mumbles. He draws in a deep breath and pulls out a handkerchief, dabbing his sweaty forehead. Evidently the experience did something to him as well. Which makes me feel better, in a way. I'd hate to have succ.u.mbed to that rapture, only to find him all nonchalant and superior afterward.

I reach up to feel my neck, pressing my fingers against the tiny bite holes. "That was incredible," I murmur. "Amazing. I've never felt anything like it. Does it always feel that good? Or just the first time?"

"I certainly don't know," Jareth says in a totally unwarranted grumpy voice. He rises from the bed and walks toward the door. "I was only bitten once. When I was turned."

"Oh, right. Of course. Well, let me tell you, that totally rocked my world. You're good at the biteage, dude."

"I beg of you. Don't ever, ever call me dude again."

I sigh. "Sorry. But I was trying to give you a compliment."

"None necessary. It's just business. Nothing more."

"I know, but. . ." Why do I suddenly feel kind of hurt? He's right. This was obviously just for the job. To look legit. Nothing more. But still, it felt so intimate. . . .

I shake my head. Earth to Rayne. Come in, Rayne. We don't even like this dude-er, guy. So there is absolutely no reason to be upset. Just get the job done. Impress the council and you'll be a.s.signed a real blood mate. Someone compatible to you DNA-wise. And then you can bite each other 'til the bats come home.

"Okay, fine. Let's go to the lounge."

I follow him out the door and down the corridor until we get to a room labeled lounge. I've got to admit, I'm looking forward to the cookies and orange juice snack at this point. The bite, with all its euphoria, definitely left me feeling weak in the knees. I wonder how much blood he took from me. I wonder if he thought I tasted good. If they even care about that.

I wonder if he wishes he could bite me again.

Not that I care. Really.

The lounge is decked out like the rest of the Blood Bar, in red and black, but it's more relaxing looking than the formal sitting room lobby. There's a lot of smooshy velvet couches and little end tables with tea candles are scattered around the room. The candlelight is all the illumination the place has got and so all the inhabitants look a bit haunted and hollow-eyed. Or maybe that's just due to the fact they've been half drained dry a few minutes earlier.

I make a beeline for an empty couch across the room. I plop down, pulling my feet up and under me. Jareth heads to the bar on the far side of the room and returns a moment later with some juice and Ritz crackers.

"No Oreos, huh?" I ask as I take the plate from him and start chowing on the crackers. I slurp down some juice.

"Could you at least try to chew with your mouth closed?" Jareth hisses, taking a seat beside me. I roll my eyes. G.o.d, how can someone so s.e.xy be so uptight and annoying? I , mean, it's not like we're on a date, right? My actions should not have any reflection on him. And even if they do, who cares? We're at a freaking bite bar in the worst section of town. I say, in this sitch, it's safe to leave Miss Manners at the door.

Choosing to ignore him, I instead glance around the room, hoping to pick up some revealing sc.r.a.ps of conversation that might clue us into Maverick's evil plan. But it seems luck is not being a lady tonight. No one's saying a word.

"Wait a second," Jareth says, his eyes falling on two girls across the room. They're both gothed out and channeling Nicole Richie and Lindsay Lohan in their scrawniness, but they're definitely human.

"What?"

"I recognize those two. They're donors for my friend Kristoff."

"Yeah?" I ask, peering at the girls. "But that doesn't make sense."

FYI: A donor is a human who voluntarily signs up to be a regular blood source for a vampire. Each vamp has his own stable of donors. This way they don't bite unwilling people, like you see in the movies. It's all very civilized and there are blood tests and contracts and the donors make pretty good dough for their services.

But why would two donors be at the Blood Bar? They already get sucked by their vamp on a regular basis. There's no way they have that much blood to spare.

"That's a huge contract violation," Jareth says, peering at the girls. "What if they came down with some disease? They could infect Kristoff."

"Do you want to say anything to them?"

"No. It's not my place. And it would blow our cover. But I will certainly be reporting the incident tomorrow to Kristoff. He will have to let them go."

I stare at the two girls. They don't look all that well-even for Donor Chicks, who always look slightly anemic. Even under the dim lighting I can see the dark rings around their eyes and a slightly green tone to their skin.

Curiouser and curiouser, as Alice in Wonderland would say. . . .