Put my hand to his cheek—it’s cold, even with the flames coming so close to us. Look down at his hand holding me to him—his wrist is bruised horribly—like he’s broken out of shackles.
“Bite me, Simon.”
“Have to try to throw you over the flames onto the yard—your only chance.”
“No, Ambrosia’s up there—gotta save her too. Bite me—bite me now!”
“Throw you clear—you try to roll when you hit the ground. I’ll try to get back up there to help her—you get out of here—far away and safe.”
“Dammit!” I shout and grab his face with both hands, kissing him very hard, then backing off and staring into his eyes that are starting to look faded and pale, “Bite me, Simon! Do it—now!”
He kisses me quickly, slides his lips over my cheek and down my neck. Lips make a circle on my neck. Sudden sting. Tender, but still feels like a kiss—enough to force an exhale charged with emotion out of me.
His free hand still holds me to him, but he’s moved it to the small of my back, his fingers caressing me.
My eyes close—all I feel are his teeth and lips—and the tender stroke of his touch. The blackness behind my eyelids turns teal.
His mouth leaves my neck, and his hand tightens at my back. He starts to stand—pulling me up with him. Still at an angle, but he feels balanced now—strong enough to hold me steady too. Bruise on his wrist looks much better—fading away already. His eyes blaze bright blue.
“Going in the window now—get on my back, put your arms around my neck—wrap your legs around my waist —as tight as you can—quickly.”
“Okay,” I answer as he’s already turned around, looking at the wall he must climb.
Sliding my arms and legs around him, I know the danger we’re heading into—I feel the heat of the fire below us—hear the broken balcony creaking and threatening to give way at any moment, but I still feel tingles spark through me with my body wrapped around him—pressed to him. Even the threat of probable death can’t hold back the sensation. So insane. So wonderful. So deadly.
He reaches his hands up, digging his fingernails into the wood and lifting the both of us off the balcony— climbing the wall up to the hole in the window, one floor above us.
Think about what was in that room when I was dropped out of it—know what waits for us up there—a feeling surges up inside me. Can’t go another second without doing it. Might never have another chance to do it.
“Simon, stop—look at me.”
He turns his head as far as he can in my direction. Hanging onto his neck two and a half floors above a raging fire, I lean to the side, putting my face an inch in front of his.
“Simon, I love you.”
He smiles the sexiest smile and says, “I know you do.”
Before I can register that his words aren’t what I’m dying to hear, he’s already moving toward the window— faster now. Hold tighter to his neck.
As our heads peer through the busted window, the conversation reaches our ears.
“Bit convenient that you’re here tonight, Maxine, don’t you think?”
“What’re you talkin’ about, Roderick? You know I hate you—ain’t nothing changed. Just nothing else to do tonight.”
“Really? Here in my house with all this going on—humans running here and there—cars crashing into the front of the building—fires—and a little vampire civil war, and you just happen to be here in the house of someone you hate? Then you come prancing on in here telling everyone a secret you’re not even supposed to know—sending nearly all of my people racing out of here after a fix, and you expect me to believe it’s all a coincidence?”
Quickly scan over what I can see of the room—does look like most of them have left—running after Edgar to satisfy their revolting addiction. Those that I can see have their backs to us and the window—all facing Maxine.
Maxine says, “Don’t really care what you believe, ugly. Never have.”
Roderick walks toward Maxine with his fingers spread out near his sides, ready to swing them at her.
Maxine holds her ground, bending her knees, and stretching her own hands in front of her.
Simon holds both of us with one hand on the windowsill and both of his boots pressed against the front of the house. His free hand slides gently up and down my right forearm that is still wrapped around his neck.
A young-looking vampire with short, brown hair and very long sideburns whom I’ve never seen before follows behind Roderick, also approaching Maxine threateningly—don’t recognize him. Carvelli still holds Ambrosia–can see one of her blue ponytails peeking out past his shoulder. Patchouli girl stands to the side of Carvelli with her tongue pressed to the tip of a fang—staring ravenously at Ambrosia—the only one not watching what’s going on with Maxine.
Another voice calls out from the opening in the bookcase, “Look at the two brave, male vampires attacking one girl all by herself.”
It’s Katrianna.
Roderick stops, surprise freezing his movement, and says, “You’re supposed to be dead. They said they killed you.”
“I’m supposed to be a lot of things—not many of them are true.”
Stopping at Maxine’s side, Katrianna continues, “If you want a nasty job done right, Roderick, don’t leave early next time, trusting imbeciles to do it for you. And, who said they killed me—this idiot straining to hold that little girl over there—Carvelli?
Carvelli’s face grows angry, and Ambrosia scrunches her shoulders under the increased pressure from his hand squeezing her.
Maxine answers, “Quint ran out with the others after Edgar and the new breed.”
“Ha!” explodes out of Katrianna, “Never know who your friends are, huh, Roderick? And you, too, stupid,” she says pointing a razor-like fingernail at Carvelli.
“Still four of us to rip you two apart—that’s all we need,” Roderick says cold, flat, and steady.
Maxine says, “It seems all you’re good for Roderick is a lot of talk, and talking to you has always made me sick anyway.”
“Me, too,” Simon adds, jumping through the hole in the window, landing his feet forcefully onto the hardwood floor with me still hanging onto his neck.
Roderick turns around, looking back and forth from Maxi and Katrianna to Simon and me, slowly backing away from being caught directly between them all—moving himself toward Carvelli and patchouli girl, the young vamp with the long sideburns following his lead.
Staring at Simon, Roderick says, “Well, here’s the boy who’s having a lot of trouble dying tonight—we can take care of that for him soon enough.”
“Let Ambrosia go, and none of you have to die,” Simon commands.
“Oh, I think we’re way too far gone for that, Mr. Hero, and I’d say your luck has got to be running out soon,” he pauses looking over all the girls in the room, still backing up slowly, getting closer to Carvelli and his captive, “Let’s see here…Katrianna, Desiree, Ruby, Maxine, and Ambrosia—isn’t anyone named Jane anymore? Only in Uptown New Orleans could those names come together in the same room. Only here could all but one of them be very
All eyes scan over the room—all of them except for Roderick’s and patchouli-girl/Desiree’s—they both stare at Ambrosia.
Simon turns his head sideways toward me—still keeping his eyes on the room, and says, “Ruby, stay in the corner once this starts. Try to get away from this window—get over to one of the corners by that torn bookshelf.”
“Okay.”
Roderick reaches Carvelli and Ambrosia, grabs her at the shoulder, and says, “I’ll take the girl—let her go.”
He slides his hand down Ambrosia’s back, grasping her trapped wrists, and takes hold of her from Carvelli.
Katrianna and Maxine move toward them slowly from the front of the room, and Simon does the same from the rear. Still outnumbered four to three, but they’re the ones making the first move.
Roderick looks to the young sideburns vamp, Desiree, and Carvelli, and says, “If I have to dirty my hands with
