Much Ado About Vampires

myself. We just had sex. Not even real sex, more a quickie, just a purely physical reaction to me giving him blood. What right did he have to go around looking all steamy hot and gorgeous?

“I sense that you’re angry with me about something,” he said drily, falling into step beside me. “But since I also sense it has to do with my hair and beard, I’m at a loss as to how to placate you. If you are through having a temper tantrum, would you mind telling me how you met Ulfur?”

“I might. But first, let’s discuss this plan of yours to get us out of here. I assume the exit place is where you’re taking me?”

Alec sighed, and stopped. “You’re part of my punishment, aren’t you? It’s not bad enough the council banished me to the Akasha—they sent you here to drive me insane, didn’t they?”

“What council? One that oversees the killing of innocent women?”

“No.” He started forward again. I watched his back for a moment, absently noting that he had a very, very fine walk, before hurrying to catch up with him. My little devil had me taking his hand before I realized what she was doing, but I figured it would be rude to suddenly drop it like it was full of worms or something, so I pretended I didn’t feel all warm and fuzzy when his fingers threaded through mine in a way that made my little devil happy. “I was sentenced to remain in the Akasha for crimes committed against Dark Ones.”

“But you’re one of them,” I said, looking at him.

His jaw tightened. “Yes.”

“What did you do?”

“How did you meet Ulfur?”

“How are you getting us out of here?” I countered.

“If you don’t stop asking me questions instead of answering them, I’m going to make you stop,” he threatened, his voice a low, sexy growl that I felt all the way to my toes.

“You’re going to kill me, too? ” I asked, surprise kicking in when I realized that I wasn’t afraid of him. He was a murderer, yes, but somehow, I knew he didn’t pose a threat to me. Not that sort of a threat, anyway . . . my peace of mind was another subject.

“Tempting as that thought is, no, I would simply kiss you until you couldn’t think anymore.”

My eyes widened as he thought about doing that, my breasts, suddenly becoming strumpets, demanding that I walk them right over to his chest, and let them have their way with him.

“Stop it,” I said, looking down at my shirt. My nipples had hardened at the thought of Alec’s chest, my breasts feeling heavy and very, very needy.

“Now what have I done?” he asked with a distinct note of exasperation.

“It’s not you. I’m having some trouble with my breasts.”

His gaze instantly dropped to my upper parts. “Problematic, are they?”

“Right now, yes. They want an introduction to your chest. I’ve told them no, that what happened before was simply a reaction to me feeding you, but they won’t listen.”

“Perhaps I can be of some assistance,” he said in his polite, slightly accented English. “Would you like me to take up the discussion with them?”

“It wouldn’t do any good,” I said, shaking my head. “They wouldn’t listen. They’re headstrong.”

“We won’t know until we try, hmm?” he said, suddenly stopping, turning me around so I faced him. My breasts cheered as his gaze caressed their upper slopes visible through the lacy part of my top.

“Oh, I think I know . . . hooobah!”

Alec didn’t bother to introduce himself properly—he just slid both hands underneath my shirt to cup my boobs, and did a cleavage dive. The sensation of his stubble on my now highly sensitized breasts left me clutching his head, my breath caught in my throat as he snaked his tongue between my breasts, his thumbs gently rubbing where my nipples were trying to burst free of my bra.

This is just the blood, I said somewhat desperately. It’s just because I gave you blood that my boobs want you so much.

This isn’t due to you feeding me, mi cielo, he answered, his voice rubbing against my brain in a way that threatened to tumble me into another pit of need and desire. This is something else.

What? I asked, shielding from him my secret.

I don’t know, but I will enjoy myself fully finding out what. Do you want me to make love to you again?

You didn’t make love to me before. We had a mutually desired quickie, brought on by bloodlust.

You just keep telling yourself that, love. He pulled his head from my chest, his grin downright cocky as he pulled down my shirt, giving my breasts one last caress before taking my hand again. “What’s this nonsense about me getting you out of here?”

“We have a deal,” I said when I was able to pry my tongue off the roof of my mouth.

“We do?”

“Yes. When you were lying there being roadkill, I told you that I would give you blood and you would get Diamond and me out of the Akasha.”

“You made a deal with me while I was all but dead due to lack of blood?”

“Yes. You didn’t say you wouldn’t do it,” I pointed out.

He shot me a look.

“All right, all right, I know, it wasn’t a fair deal, but it was a deal nonetheless, and if you insist on walking around here looking like sex on two legs, then you can just honor the deal.”

“My appearance again,” he sighed. “I can’t help the way I look, Corazon.”

I narrowed my eyes on him. “You could try looking ugly, you know.”

His green-eyed gaze cast upward for a few seconds in an obvious plea for patience. “If I covered myself in mud, would that help?”

I had a vision of him standing naked, his body slick with water, as I slowly, gently, carefully moved a soapy sponge over his flesh, cleaning him, leaving all that satiny, hot skin exposed, just waiting for me to touch it, taste it—

“You continue with that thought, and I will make love to you right here,” he warned with a growl.

“Sorry. Mind got away from me. What was the question ? ”

“Akasha. Getting you out. Me. Someone evidently named Diamond.”

“Oh, yes, well, as I said, I made this agreement with your unconscious self, and since you’re a big, bad vampire, and everyone is scared to death of you, I figured you could get Diamond—she’s the woman who stole my husband, not that I really mind because he’s a total dillwad, but still, there was a matter of pride for about five minutes—then I got over it and realized I should be grateful to her—anyway, she was in the house with me when Ulfur and the English Satan dude were arguing, and whammo! Here we are.”

It took Alec a minute to work through all of that. “English Satan dude? A demon lord, you mean? Which one? ”

“Um . . . Dean? No, Dale.”

“Bael? ”

“Yes, that’s the guy.”

“Christ,” he swore.

“I gather he’s the head bad guy.”

“Very much so.” He eyed me with speculation. “What did Ulfur do to bring down Bael’s wrath on him, and by extension you and the husband-stealer?”

“He stole some gold thing. Oh, and this.” I dug into my pocket and pulled out the broken bits of stone and twisted gold.

“Christ,” he repeated, staring at it in horror. “That’s one of the Tools.”

“It’s called the Oculus of Lucifer, I think.”

“Occio di Lucifer . . .” His gaze snapped up to mine, a sense of disbelief and wonder and amazement all rolling around inside him. “The Tool has been destroyed.”