Darkyn - Private Demon Part 27

She darted around him, blocking his path to the window. "Why do you have to leave? Can't you stay and talk to me?"

"I think I have done enough to you." And it shamed him to admit it to her like this. He had never regretted his talent, but it had been wrong to use it on her as he had. He had violated her mind, and had almost done the same with her body. "I am sorry."

Her expression turned sad. "Didn't you like what we did together in my dreams? That's what happened, wasn't it?

You came into my dreams."

"Yes. Sharing them made everything... more bearable." If he were to be d.a.m.ned in her eyes, let it be for the truth. "I couldn't stop. I couldn't stay away."

"I'm glad you didn't." She took a deep breath. "Thierry. G.o.d, I didn't know if you were real, and then when I knew you were, I still couldn't believe it." She brushed at her eyes and laughed a little. "It sounds crazy, but I'd rather be in a dream with you than live in the real world."

"We cannot live in a dream," he told her. Something like the old madness was swelling inside him, but he didn't fear it. "Reality is better."

"I wouldn't know." She stepped up to him and placed one hand in the center of his chest. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine himself standing with her like this, in a grove of apple trees, sunlight all around them. "Would you show me?"

It was her touch that brought his arms around her; that made him lift her up and carry her to her empty bed. He bent down, holding her as he nudged the pillows out of the way, and then set her down. His hands were too big as he put them on her, her clothes too thin and insubstantial. He heard something tearing and realized he was responsible.

But his eyes were locked on her face, and Jema was not afraid of him. She was staring up at him, eyelids half-closed, lips parted. She needed him, wanted him.

Thierry let go of the last of his restraint. In some dim part of his head he knew he was being too rough with her. He tore her clothes from her body, and then helped her rid him of his own. The moment they were bare to each other, their skin touching, their hands moving over each other, he knew madness.

Jema was naked under his hands and he hadn't yet kissed her. His fangs made him hold back, until she curled an arm around his neck and put her lips to his.

Honey and almonds.

He cradled her bottom with one hand and lifted her from the bed, kneeling down on the mattress, holding her over and above him. She laughed and he took in the sound as he took her mouth, kissing her as deeply as he could. The glide of her tongue over his made his hands clench. His shaft throbbed, full and hard, eager for her.

She lifted her head and brushed her mouth against his ear. "Thierry."

In her dreams he had been gentle, erotic, everything she had wanted. It had delighted him to shape and bend himself to please her. From her dreams, he knew her as he had known no other woman. Now she would know him, his desires, his whims.

If only for this night.

Thierry lifted her higher so he could rub his face against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and suck at them. It made her tremble and writhe between his hands, and when he brought her down she spread her thighs and met him, just as she had when she had given him the blood that had saved him.

There was nothing to keep them apart this time.

Jema braced her hands on his shoulders, and he reached between their bodies, grasping the head of his c.o.c.k and working it between those full, slick lips opening for it. He pressed in, pus.h.i.+ng her down, drawing back as he did so he could watch her face.

"Oh." Her eyelashes fluttered and her thighs tightened.

His back teeth met as liquid heat enveloped him. He kept her from impaling herself on him, wanting to fill the silky vise slowly, easily. She fit him as if fas.h.i.+oned exclusively for his pleasure, tight enough to squeeze the length of him, wet enough to make him groan.

Her bottom quivered as it touched his thighs. Her teeth were buried in her bottom lip, and Thierry's fangs ached as he smelled fresh blood. He held on to the other side of his hunger with a death grip as he moved in and licked the blood from her lip. Jema arched against his arm, her hips working, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressing against his chest.

Thierry rolled with her, off the bed, onto his feet, into the wall. He kept her on him and drew back only to drive into her again, hard and fast. A picture frame fell and landed on the bed. Jema's fingernails dug into his shoulders as she shuddered. Every time he shoved into her, her hips lifted and pushed back.

He sealed his mouth over hers and f.u.c.ked her there against the wall, and then down to the floor, atop the pillows that had fallen there. He lifted her only to position one hand beneath her hips and then pressed her knees up and apart, opening her so he could use the deepest strokes, kissing her when she found her pleasure again.

His own would no longer be ignored, and Thierry groaned, afraid he would drive her through the floor. Jema brought one of her legs down and pushed, trying to flip over on top of him but unable to s.h.i.+ft his weight. He remained buried deep inside her body as he let her turn him.

As soon as he was on his back she wrenched their bodies apart, sliding down him like a wraith, ignoring his hands as she caught him in her fingers and enveloped the head of his c.o.c.k in her mouth. Thierry didn't dare move, and felt her hand tighten to a fist around him as she lifted her face.

"Let me," was all she said, but that was all it took. When her breath touched him he bowed, and when her mouth sucked at his c.o.c.k again he became an arrow. Through slitted eyes he saw her head move, felt the sc.r.a.pe of her teeth, the velvet of her tongue.

She was going to kill him with her mouth. He would die a happy man.

The pleasure that had hovered, patient and then impatient, waiting for him to be satisfied with making her come, demanding its own moment, finally broke through the steel cage of his restraint. Thierry surged between her soft lips, shaking as his seed jetted into her mouth, destroyed by the low sounds she made as she sucked him dry.

He fell back, unsure he would ever move again. He could only lift one pathetic, weak arm to hold her as she slid up to lie against his chest. Her hand moved to his mouth, and he knew what she wanted. He opened his lips, and tasted the strangeness of himself on her fingertips.

"Real," she whispered, "is better."

Chapter 19.

This ex-priest, Hurley, he will know where they are keeping Keller," Falco said. He was sharpening his dagger with a stone notched by decades of daily application. "You should let them have him."

"No." Jaus already felt guilty enough about persuading Cyprien to have Thierry killed. He would not deprive Alexandra of her brother, no matter how convenient it would be for the Kyn. "Go to Hurley; see what he knows. We must find Keller."

Falco looked exasperated. "As you say, master."

Jaus looked in on Alex, who was keeping watch over Jamys as he slept. He returned the smile she gave him. "Sacher said you were having a problem with the blood machine. Should I have it replaced?"

"I think I need to take some new samples before you do that. I may have accidentally contaminated one of them."

She glanced at Jamys. "Do you think Jema's mother would let me see her if I go over to Shaw House? There's some questions I need to ask her about her condition."

He saw the fine tension in her body, and knew she was deeply concerned about her brother. How like Alexandra to hide it. "Jema will be coming here tonight, for the masque. It would be better to speak to her then, when I can distract her mother."

"Yeah, that lady is better than an attack dog," she said. "We didn't bring any costumes, though."

"I can arrange that with a phone call." He measured her with a glance. "You would be a pet.i.te size five."

"Size six," she said, and sighed. "I'd make a great jumbo shrimp."

He nodded at Jamys. "Would he be all right by himself for a moment? I have a catalog in my office, and you can pick out what you like."

"The sedative should have worn off by now, but I think he's just worn out, poor kid." Alex got up. "What kind of costumes are we wearing, anyway?"

As they left the room, Jamys opened his eyes, scanned the room, and then pulled the IV line out of his arm.

"Hey, you're waking up."

John opened his eyes to find himself in another unfamiliar place. He was sitting in a plaid armchair, to which he had been bound with yards of duct tape. Discarded drive-through bags and crushed beer cans littered the floor. Two open commercial paint containers overflowed with more cans. The smell of the place was Eau de Miller Time. From the look of the narrow, windowless concrete box and the roll-down door in front of him, he was in some sort of garage or warehouse.

Pure appeared in front of him. "I was so worried you'd be burned," she told him as she pulled down his gag and held a straw to his mouth. "It's okay. It's only water."

John took a cautious sip, and then another before he moved his head away. "Where is my sister?"

"She got away with the other guys," Pure told him. "I don't think Decree wanted them."

"Why kidnap me?"

She shrugged. "He didn't say. Decree pretty much does what he wants."

As she reached to pull the gag back over his mouth, John said quickly, "I won't shout or make any noise."

"Promise?" She looked over her shoulder. "Decree went to get us something to eat. n.o.body can hear you out here, but if he finds out I let you yell, he'll be mad."

"I won't yell," John promised. "I only want to talk to you."

John couldn't quite believe Pure was involved in this. To know that she would partic.i.p.ate in a kidnapping made him wonder if he could ever trust his judgment again.

"Why did Decree kidnap me?" he asked her.

"Raze told him to; that's all I know. He wanted you here while the Bones crash this big party at midnight." Pure sat cross-legged at his feet. "You don't understand, John. Raze has been so decent to Decree. He got jobs for all the guys, and now no one has to worry about money. Me and Decree, we're gonna have enough for our place soon." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I'll be able to keep my baby, see?"

"I told you to keep him gagged." Decree ducked under the roll-down door and pulled it shut behind him. He handed Pure the bags of fast food he was carrying before he came over to look at John. "I guess this ruins me being your next altar boy, huh, Father?"

He'd obviously rehea.r.s.ed that, to shock John. "I'm not a priest anymore," John reminded him, trying to keep the tired defeat out of his tone. "I don't know why you did this, Brian, but if you turn me loose, I won't press charges."

"Are you kidding, man? You are my cash cow. Raze is gonna pay five grand for you." Decree smiled as Pure handed him a burrito. "You like Mexican food?"

"Who is Raze, and why would he pay five thousand dollars for me?" John asked. "I don't even have five hundred dollars to my name."

"Don't know why." Decree took a bite of the burrito and chewed. "Raze is number one. Leader of the Bones. Don't you know anything?"

"Evidently not." John tried to s.h.i.+ft, but the duct tape was wrapped too tightly around his chest and legs. "Listen to me, Brian. What you're doing is going to get you sent to prison. If you stop now, I promise I'll do everything I can to help you."

"Good old Father John." Decree tossed the rest of the burrito into a bag and crumpled it. "You always wanted to help Chris. Talking to him and s.h.i.+t like you do around the Haven. Only you're a big f.u.c.king fraud. Did you talk to my old man? Ever ask him to stop kicking the s.h.i.+t out of me and my brother?"

"I didn't know you were being abused."

"How many b.l.o.o.d.y noses and black eyes does it take?" Decree stalked away and took a beer from a paper sack on the floor. "You keep him gagged," he told Pure. "Cops drive by to check the place at midnight; I don't want them finding him. Raze won't come for him until after we do the French dude."

"What is Raze paying you to do, Brian?" John called to him. "Why are you risking prison to do what he wants?

You never seemed that stupid to me."

Decree turned around and threw the can of beer at John. It hit the side of his head, a glancing blow, splattering him with the warm liquid inside.

"You don't say s.h.i.+t about Raze," the boy shouted. "You don't know nothing about Raze and what he's done for us."

"Tell me," John said.

"The Bones were small-time before he came," Decree said. "Little petty s.h.i.+t jobs, barely enough to keep us in beer.

Then Raze took over. He got rid of everybody who ha.s.sled us. He even took out some cops that were gunning for us, you know? Then he hooks us up with the mad monks. Guys thinking the world's full of vampires." Decree shook his hands beside his head, making a ghostly sound, and then he laughed.

Mad monks. The Brethren. Now things made more sense. "What do they pay you to do? Kidnap people? Beat them up? Or are you just the delivery service?"

"We do all that, but we're moving up the fee scale. We got ten thousand for dusting a gink." Decree ignored Pure's shocked cry. "Man's gotta make a living. You know what the best part is? I used to paint swastikas on people's front doors and run away. Now, thanks to Raze, I get to carve them into some gink f.u.c.k's face, and people run away from me."

A drop of beer trickled into John's eye, making it burn. "You could still pull out of this, Brian. You're better than this."

"No, man. That's what's so sad about you. You don't get that this is exactly what I am." He smiled. "And I like it."

After repeating his instructions to Pure, who was pale and silent, Decree yanked the gag back over John's mouth and left. Pure started to cry a few seconds after the roll-down door slammed shut. She dropped into a miserable huddle on the floor and sobbed into her hands.

John closed his eyes. He didn't know how much time he had left before Decree's leader-probably one of the Brethren-came for him.

"How could he?" Pure wailed. She was clutching her stomach with both hands. "What am I gonna do if they bust him for murder? I can't have this baby by myself."

John looked at her steadily, hoping she would come over and pull down the gag again. After several minutes she came to sit by the chair. He made a series of insistent sounds behind the gag until she reached up and pulled it down.

"Pure, I want to help you and Decree and your baby, but I can't do it like this."

"He'll kill me if I let you go." She sobbed out the words. "Or he'll give me to Raze. Do you know what Raze thinks he is? A vampire." That made her cry harder.

The door rolled up, and she screamed.

Jamys Durand and Dougall Hurley came in. Hurley closed the door quickly, and Jamys drew a dagger. He walked past the cringing Pure and used the dagger to cut John free of the duct tape binding him to the chair. Then he handed John the dagger and bent down to touch Pure's neck. The girl's eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped over on her side.

"What did you do to her?" John demanded.

"About what he did to me," Hurley said. He was pale and wide-eyed, a man who had received a healthy shock.

"You know this kid has fangs?"

John flinched as Jamys reached out to him, and then felt an instant warmth where the boy touched him on the arm.

I only told her to go to sleep, a young male voice said inside John's head. Alexandra is all right; she wasn't burned in the fire, but she and Michael and Valentin are in great danger. I can't speak and they can't hear me in their minds like this. Only humans can.

Dougall will go with us, but he cannot tolerate my talent. I need your help.

"Help to do what?" John felt dizzy.

"Stop the Bones," Hurley said. "Crazy little f.u.c.kers are going to commit ma.s.s murder. Or so Fang here says."

Inside John's head, Jamys said, They're going to kill Michael and your sister for the Brethren. Tonight, at the lake.