I tried to respond, but all that came out was a gasp as he shifted ever so slightly, hitting a spot that set off an explosion of light in my head. He chuckled at the choked scream that came next, obviously enjoying the way his body was affecting mine. His smug pleasure set off something inside me, something savage and animalistic. Without thinking, I bit his shoulder. Hard. Hard enough to break the skin.
“Ow! Shit!” he shouted, flinching away. He went completely still and pulled back to gaze down at me, a startled expression on his face.
I stared at the tiny drop of blood on his skin, horrified at what I’d done. “Oh, God,” I breathed. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what—”
I didn’t get a chance to complete the sentence before Nicky’s mouth was on mine again, his kisses rough and harsh this time. And when he grabbed my hands and pinned them over my head and began to move his hips once more, the source of his startled expression was now clear. He wasn’t surprised that I’d bitten him; he was surprised that I liked it as rough as he did. And, honestly, that was as much of a surprise to me as it was to him. But I loved it. I loved his hard thrusts. I loved how his muscled body overpowered mine. And I loved it when his teeth nipped and teased my skin, drawing out the kind of pleasure I’d only dreamed of.
And when Nicky finally let go, his release was so powerful, his strangled scream echoed off the bedroom walls. And it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. Even reliving the sound in my head as he lay there, collapsed in exhaustion in my arms, my body cradling his, made me want to go at it all over again.
To my mortification, my muscles began to twitch, grasping onto his shaft, begging for more. His soft chuckle rumbled in his chest, and when he lifted his head to peer down at me, he was grinning from ear to ear.
“You’re going to be the death of me, doll,” he drawled.
Now it was my turn to chuckle. “Yeah?”
He nodded and slowly withdrew. But before he could completely pull out, he thrust hard, making me gasp. And as he began to move again, he put his lips near my ear and whispered, “But what a way to go. . . .”
Chapter Thirteen
“It had to be Amanda.”
“Amanda?” he repeated from where he sat at the kitchen bar, sipping the coffee I’d made us. “That Ordinary dame Dracula killed so he could use her ghost to try to bump off Caliban?”
I scraped scrambled eggs onto two plates already loaded down with toast and fresh fruit, then nodded. “One and the same. Looks like he’s still using her to do his dirty work.”
“So, do you think she was an early attempt to turn an Ordinary that went wrong?” Nicky asked. “Or do you think he intended to kill her all along?”
“I’m guessing the latter.” I set the plates in front of him and climbed up onto the bar stool beside him, trying to ignore the fact that I knew he was going commando under his jeans. “When Tale vamps come over, we spend a lot of time rehabilitating them, teaching them to control their hunger, feed responsibly, so they can lead a normal life among the Ordinaries and not get into trouble. Part of that program emphasizes the fact that Tale vamps aren’t able to turn anyone else so there’s no reason to kill anyone.”
“Is it true?” Nicky asked.
“As far as we know.”
He blinked at me and said around a mouthful of strawberries, “No one ever bothered to test the theory?”
I shrugged. “Who would you have us use as test subjects? Had the experiment gone wrong, it would’ve resulted in the death of a Tale. And if it had worked, we would’ve had more vamps to deal with and no deterrent to keep them from turning whoever they wanted, whenever they wanted.”
“And no one ever questioned this?”
I pressed my lips together for a moment. “As Al says, ‘You tell someone something often enough, they’ll start to believe it.’ But I think we honestly all believed it, too. I mean, it’s never happened.”
“Until now.”
“What do you mean?”
He polished off the fruit and started in on the eggs. A moment later he finally answered, “These vamps I’ve been chasing—there’s something strange about them. You know that. They don’t have a normal Tale signature. I think he’s turning Ordinaries.”
“We have no proof of that,” I reminded him. “And if it has happened, the FMA will handle it. That’s why we have rehabilitation programs in the first place.”
“You know, the FMA has a bad habit of trying to regulate every aspect of our lives,” Nicky mused. “Now that we’re here, we’re supposed to be able to write our own stories, find our own voices. Maybe they should be a little more hands-off and let us all deal with things ourselves.”
“Careful,” I retorted, jabbing my food with my fork, “you’re starting to sound a lot like Sebille Fenwick and her fanatical pals.” My hands stilled the moment I said it, not needing to turn around to know how much my words had cut him—I felt it in the air. But he didn’t say anything. It wasn’t until the dishes were cleared away and all evidence of breakfast disposed of that Nicky spoke again.
“Listen, I’m sorry about earlier,” he said, running his hand through his hair. He leaned a hip against the counter and regarded me with a frown. “You know, in the bedroom.”
I froze, my stomach plummeting. “What?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I shouldn’t have let things go that far.”
I let out a shaky, nervous little laugh and waved away his comment, trying to act nonchalant, especially in light of my misstep a moment before. “Don’t worry about it.”
Seriously. Please don’t worry about it. . . .
“No, I owe you an apology,” he went on, shaking his head a little. “You were vulnerable and I took advantage of that.”
“No, no, Nicky,” I said quickly. “Really, I—”
“Hell, I’m just sorry, Trish,” he said on a sigh. “It was an asshole thing to do. Won’t happen again.”
My shoulders sagged, wondering if we’d be having a different conversation about what had taken place if I hadn’t just compared him to his wife’s murderer. “Right.”
He shook his head again as if he was completely disgusted with his behavior. “I just . . . I think I’ve been getting in your head for so long, I feel like I know you.”
“I know the feeling,” I muttered.
“The thing is,” he continued, “I’ve been coming on to you since that night in your apartment, and I had no right. Not when I’m getting the hell outta town as soon as this shit is over. It’s not fair to you. I wasn’t good enough for you the day I met you, Trish—and I’m sure as hell not good enough for you now.”
I shook my head, confused. “On the day you met me?”
He nodded. “That day we came over. I saw you lying there in that field and there was something . . . I don’t know. I felt a connection when you looked at me, doll. It was like nothin’ I’d ever felt before or since. Hell, you probably don’t even remember.”
Was he kidding?
“I remember,” I breathed.
His brows lifted and a smile teased at the corners of his mouth, but he quickly shoved it away, resuming his scowl. “Yeah, well, I wanted you so bad at that moment, wanted to keep feelin’ that way, I didn’t even think before I asked you to come with me. I just . . . I just wanted to hang on to that. But when you refused so damned politely, I realized you deserved a helluva lot more than some two-bit thief could offer. You still do. ’Cause when you get down to it, Trish, I’m still the same guy I was that day.”
“Good,” I said, my heart hammering at his confession.
His brows flinched together. “What?”
I closed the distance between us in a few quick steps and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him to me and pressing a hard, hungry kiss to his mouth. When he abruptly broke the kiss and looked down at me, he was panting, his pupils dilated with desire and wide with disbelief at the same time.
