trust you, I honestly do, but I—”
“Shh . . . it’s okay.” His gloved hand reached out and brushed the tear from her cheek. “It’s all right. Why wouldn’t you question what’s doing with me?”
“It’s wrong.”
“No, I’m wrong.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve spent the last week trying to force things to come out of my mouth. I’ve hated this shit, but I didn’t know what the hell to say that wouldn’t make it worse.”
On some level, she was surprised at the compassion and the understanding. The two of them were so very independent and that was why their relationship worked: He was reserved and she didn’t need much emotional support, and usually that math added up beautifully.
Not this week, however.
“I’m sorry, too,” he murmured. “And I wish I were a different kind of male.”
Somehow, she knew he was talking about so much more than his reserved nature. “There’s nothing you can’t talk to me about, V.” When all she got back was a “Hmm,” she said, “There’s a lot of stress right now for you. I know that. And I would do anything to help you.”
“I love you.”
“Then you’ve got to talk to me. The one thing guaranteed not to work is silence.”
“I know. But it’s like looking into a dark room. I want to tell you shit, but I can’t . . . I can’t see anything I feel.”
She believed that—and recognized it as something that victims of child abuse tended to struggle with in adulthood. The early survival mechanism that got them through everything was compartmentalization: When things got too much to handle, they fractured their inner selves and stashed their emotions far, far away.
The danger, of course, was the pressure that invariably built up.
At least the ice between them was broken, though. And they were in this quiet, semi-peaceful space now.
Of their own volition, her eyes drifted down to his arousal, which lay flat up his stomach, stretching even beyond his navel. Suddenly, she wanted him so badly she couldn’t speak.
“Take me, Jane,” he growled. “Do whatever the fuck you want to me.”
What she wanted to do was suck on him and so she did, bending over his hips, taking him into her mouth, drawing him down to the back of her throat. The sound he made was all animal, and his hips jerked up, pushing the hot length of him farther into her. Then one of his knees abruptly bent up so that he wasn’t just prone, but sprawled, as he gave himself over to her completely, cupping the back of her head while she found a rhythm that drove him—
The shift of her body was both fast and smooth.
With his tremendous strength, V repositioned her in the blink of an eye, pivoting her around and shoving the sheets out of the way so he could lift her hips up and over his torso. Her thighs were split over his face and—
His mouth was slick and warm and right on target, fusing with her sex, latching on and sucking before his tongue snaked out and licked inside of her. Her brain didn’t so much turn off as explode, and with nothing left to think with, she was blissfully lost in what was happening and not what had gone before. She had a feeling V was the same. . . . He was all about the stroking, lapping at her and sucking on her, his hands digging into her thighs as he moaned her name against her core. And it was damn hard to concentrate on what he was doing to her at the same time she was doing it for him, but what a problem to have. His erection in her mouth was hot and hard, and he was pure velvet between her legs, and the sensations were proof that even though she was a ghost, her physical reactions were just the same as when she’d been “alive”—
On another quick burst of power, Vishous lifted her as if she didn’t weigh more than the sheet did, and the shift was not a surprise. He always preferred to come inside her, deep inside of her, and he spread her legs before settling her on top of his hips, his blunt head nudging into her . . .
The invasion was not just about sex, but him staking his claim, and she loved it. This was the way it should be.
Falling forward and bracing herself against his shoulders, she stared into his eyes as they moved together, the rhythm pounding until they came at the same time, both of them going rigid as he jerked inside of her and her sex milked him. And then V flipped her onto her back and shot down her body, going back to where he’d been, his mouth fusing on her, his palms locking on her thighs as he ate at her.
As she came hard, there was no break or pause. He surged forward, stretching up both her legs and swording in, entering her on a solid stroke and taking over. His body was a massive, pistoning machine on top of her, his bonding scent roaring in the room as he orgasmed hard, the week of abstinence getting dusted in one glorious session.
While his orgasm rocked through him, she watched him as he came, loving all parts of him, even the ones that she sometimes struggled to understand.
And then he kept going. More sex. And still more.
Nearly an hour later, they were finally sated, lying still and breathing deep in the candlelight.
Vishous rolled them over, keeping them joined, and his eyes roamed her face for a long moment. “I have no words. Sixteen languages, but no words.”
There was both love and despair in his voice. He was truly handicapped when it came to emotions, and falling in love hadn’t changed that . . . at least, not when things were as stressful as they were right now. But that was okay—after this time together it was okay.
“It’s all right.” She kissed his pec. “I understand you.”
“I just wish you didn’t have to.”
“You get me.”
“Yeah, but you’re easy.”
Jane propped herself up. “I’m a frickin’ ghost. In case you haven’t noticed. Not something a lot of men would be psyched about.”
V pulled her to his mouth for a quick, hard kiss. “But I get you for the rest of my life.”
“That you do.” Humans, after all, didn’t last a tenth of what vampires did.
When the alarm went off beside them, V glared at the thing. “Now I know why I sleep with a gun under my pillow.”
As he reached out to silence the clock, she had to agree. “You know, you could just shoot it.”
“Nah, Butch would get his ass in here, and I don’t want a weapon in my palm if he ever sees you naked.”
Jane smiled and then lay back as he got out of bed and walked over to the bathroom. At the door, he paused and looked over his shoulder. “I came to you, Jane. Every night this week, I came to you. I didn’t want you to be alone. And I didn’t want to sleep without you.”
On that note, he ducked into the bath, and a moment later she heard the shower come on.
He was better at words than he thought.
With a satisfied stretch, she knew she had to get up and moving, too—time to relieve Ehlena from her day shift in the clinic. But man, she would love to lie here all night. Maybe just a little longer . . .
Vishous left ten minutes later to go to meet with Wrath and the Brotherhood, and he kissed her on the way to the exit. Twice.
Getting out of bed, she hit the bathroom for a while, and then went to their closet and opened the double doors. Hanging from the rod there were leathers—his; plain white T-shirts—hers; white coats—hers; biker jackets —his. The weapons were all locked up in a fire safe; shoes were down on the floor.
Her life was in many ways incomprehensible. Ghost married to a vampire? Come on.
But looking at this closet, so nice and arranged with their crazy lives at rest among these carefully placed clothes and footwear, she felt good about where they were. “Normal” was not a bad thing in this lunatic world; it really wasn’t.
No matter how it happened to be defined.
