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  "I guess," she said slowly.

  "You were on my mind all the time. You always are. All I could think about was you, how to stay away from you, what would I do if I saw you again, how to keep that from happening. I should have known I was only pulling you toward me."

  "Sabian, what are you even talking about?"

  "Being apart from you might not be what you think. It’s dark, and cold, and…imagine yourself parted from the sun."

  Marley didn't have to imagine. Hadn’t her whole world been turned upside down when she was twelve? And what is the sun to a twelve year old if not the comfort of a home with people obligated to love you? She squirmed a little, and bit back the urge to needle him with accusations. Sabian continued as though his were the only problems in the world. It bothered the shit out of Marley.

  "When you died, that was one thing, but maintaining my silence after your rebirth, that was quite another."

  By this time he was leaning in again, and goddamn magnet that he was, she was doing the same. She caught herself just in time and eased off.

  "And that’s why you kept running? The frat party? The coffee shop?"

  "That’s why I ran. Every time I got a little closer. You didn’t even know I was there at the beginning."

  "How long have you been watching?"

  "Does it matter?"

  Marley nodded, and he turned his head away.

  "I told you. Since the beginning." Sabian paused. He reached for her, tucked a curl behind her ear, searched her face. "That night, the night of your birthday, I should never have followed you that far, but what could I do?"

  He seemed to be asking himself the question, pondering the rhetorical. Why did he do that? Why couldn't he just answer, straight up, without an hour of background and disclaimers all the time?

  "And then in the coffee shop, I had a script. Marley, you don’t know me like I know you, but in my world, I don’t need a script. I have no cause to be nervous. My kind…want to hear what I have to say no matter what it is. But in that coffee shop, I felt…exposed. And then just…disgusted. With myself, my weakness."

  Marley suddenly saw herself at ten, naked except for socks, head turned to the side and breathing only through her mouth while Tiny hovered above her. She couldn’t stand the smell of whiskey on that son of a bitch’s breath. Almost everything else could be endured, but not that stench. Then she saw herself at fifteen, long after Tiny and her parents were dead, but before she learned how to say no. This time she wasn’t naked. This time she was in some random closet in some random house, hiding from some random dude after she’d taken some random drug. Yes, Marley understood what it felt like to be disgusted with herself. Marley knew what it meant to feel exposed.

  All so he could remain no one and nothing in the name of her safety. Pretty fucking ironic.

  Sabian continued, unaware of her infected recollections. "I’ve been here for years, and for years I’ve counted on you staying in the west. There’s something about the geography of the mountains, I think, that makes it harder for me to pick up on those who interest me on the other side. I could feel you when I wanted to, but for the most part, it was faint unless I really focused, and that made it easier to bear. And then…you were here."

  Marley saw herself as she made her way from Los Angeles to the other side of the Rockies, hitchhiking, L.A. skyline behind her. She remembered passing the "Welcome to Nevada" sign, not knowing at the time she’d be waylaid there for years. Marley saw the night she left Vegas, standing on a freeway onramp with a split lip, black eye, one bag to her name, and the lights of the strip dancing at her back. Julian was already dead, but the guy who did the smash-mouth job might as well have been wearing a Julian uniform. The Rockies were dusted with snow already as she made her way through Vail, and down into Denver, even though it was only late September at the time. When she passed the "Fort Collins, City Limits" sign, something tugged at her, told her this was the place to settle, even if only for a while. Was that only a month ago?

  Maybe it wasn’t a nameless "something" that told her to stay. Maybe it was the soul of the man sitting beside her.

  But old habits die hard, and Marley was habitually pissed. She let it stew, let him season her ire with his bullshit explanations that meant nothing to the beaten little girl who still lived inside her.

  "I’ve stayed away all these years to keep you whole, to keep you safe," he said. "And now, here you are, right where I’ve been all along."

  "No," Marley answered, "You left me to the system."

  "I’ve been taking care of you your whole life." His frustration was coming untethered.

  She raised her voice, and lifted an accusing finger at him. "Yeah? Where were you when he was at my door every night?" She knew it wasn’t a fair question, but she didn’t let that stop her. "During my tour of every foster home in L.A.? Where were you when I was laid up in the emergency room because some asshole beat the shit out of me? No matter what hospital, those nurses always looked at me like I was scum of the earth, like I deserved to get fucked up!"

  Now Sabian’s voice boomed. "Woman, I have always been there, in your shadow, since the beginning of time. I’ve made more things right than you’ll ever know, branded you mine in the way only pain and terror can!"

  Sabian was breathing hard with raw righteousness, trembling and tipping over the edge of control. Marley cowered into the couch as far as she could push herself. It wasn’t love she saw in his eyes; it was gluttony and fury. The acrimony might not have been for her, but the greedy hunger was. He was spinning, and Marley didn’t know what to do. Default smart-assedness didn’t seem the answer for once.

  With thunderous calm in his voice that was louder somehow than the bellows he’d just let loose, Sabian said, "There is no redemption for what I’ve allowed to be done to you. For what I have done to you." His eyes dropped to the floor, and then he hung his head.

  "What did you do to me?" She didn’t recognize her own voice; she sounded sad and forlorn now, the polar opposite of the irate woman she’d just been.

  When he looked back up, his eyes were electrified and his fangs unfolded while she watched. Was it emotion that did that? Desire? Jesus Christ.

  "I let you push me past the limits of my willpower." He pinned her with starved eyes. "So please, be careful, be calm. Give me space."

  "How do I do that? I don’t know what to say to you, if I can even sit next to you." She could hear condemnation creeping back into her voice. Marley steadied herself, and forced an even tone into her words. "You come to me, reach for me, and push me away. You expect me to accept things that are horrible. What do you want from me? Make up your mind."

  Sabian leaned his head back on the couch again. Looking at the ceiling, he said, "We do what needs to be done." His fangs were slowly retracting. He looked at the door instead of back to her.

  "I don’t know what that is," she said. His fangs mesmerized her, and his eyes hadn’t lost their shine. Every time she looked at him, regardless of whether he looked back, it was as though she was watching the whole conversation through a spyglass.

  "I shouldn’t be here right now," he said, eyes still on the door.

  "Why?"

  "Because I’m not in the right frame of mind for all this right now, not even sober."

  Marley reached over, and put her hand on his arm. "Don’t go," she said.

  Sabian looked at her almost as though he couldn’t believe she’d said it. "You are not safe with me right now!" he yelled from two feet away, and his canines slid out like switchblades.

  Sabian knew he had to leave Marley’s apartment. He would lose control if he stayed, and the timing wasn’t right. But he couldn’t pull himself away. While this tug-of-war played out in his mind, his senses were blinded to the watcher poised just outside Marley’s window. Had he allowed his Kindred senses freedom from his obsession to do their thing and comb his environment, he would have catalogued the invisible threat. Instead, he ignored the warnings and gave every last p
article of his attention to Marley.

  Her lips, her need…her blood.

  Sabian was an intelligent vampire, but a slow learner of history’s lessons. Three times before, he’d united with Marley’s soul, settled into a dream life, and then suffered as she was taken from him. It was a total eclipse of the sun that lasted decades. Of course, most of his kind adapted to the loss of the sun; they had no choice. But Sabian had never been bound by that particular restriction, so when he thought of losing his light, it was only a metaphor. Instead of adapting to these lessons in her subsequent lifetimes, he tried harder to make a failed plan work. What Sabian couldn’t accept was that if you always do what you’ve always done, you’ll always get what you’ve always gotten.

  What Sabian had always done was ignore the machine disintegrating right in his face, and what he’d always gotten was a dead Marley.

  And it was happening all over again. Sabian did not allow his internal security system to monitor for threats, arguably deliberate in his ignorance as the scent of Kindred fury wafted through the windows like cold air through poor weatherproofing. He was oblivious to the intent to torture and murder pulsing like Morse code just outside.

  Sabian’s impulse control had finally reached its limit. He knew he shouldn’t have come here so soon after feeding. The debauchery in Denver was essentially an hourglass timing his sideshow of sober control, and the last grain of sand had long since been deposited.

  Leave—do it now, thought Sabian. He got up from the couch in a swift movement that should have been indiscernible to Marley; he wanted to be at the door before she registered what was happening, but damned if she didn’t manage to take hold of his wrist. Her touch froze him in place. He couldn’t look at her. His fangs were still flagging at full mast, and he was burning for her, blistered by yearning. To see her pulse points now, this close, would have set gasoline to the flames that already licked at his restraint. He should have never gotten started in Denver with that Blond Dawn bitch. Her blood poisoned his mind and made him vulnerable.

  Made his need lengthen.

  "Marley, please. I’m barely holding it together here." He was all but growling.

  "Just wait. Do…do you want some?" she asked in a tiny voice.

  At these words, whatever blood left from Blond Dawn bolted to his crotch. He could feel Marley’s intent, knew what she wanted him to do. God in heaven, why was she doing this to him?

  "What?" he asked, even though, Jesus, he knew.

  She pulled at his arm, and he sat down next to her, nothing but a pile of crumpled willpower.

  "Do you want to drink some? Would it make it easier?" she asked. "Just…don’t go."

  Christ, she was offering, hoping, even; Sabian could feel it coming off her—the excitement and trepidation, but she had no idea what this would mean. Of course he wanted some. He would practically rape her for flesh and blood if he didn’t walk out right now, and here she was, giving him permission?

  "Marley, if you let me go down this road, I won’t ever be satisfied. I’m always going to want some, always want your taste in my mouth." He was trembling with desire, and she was sitting close, so close to him now. His eyes settled on her throat, and he imagined blood streaking through her arteries, begging him to take, to drink. It would be so easy to rip her open and guzzle. He reached out, and put his hand around her throat. To an outside observer (the outside observer, actually, although Sabian was too engrossed with Marley to register Kindred nearby), it was a violent scene, a strangling, but his touch was silken. He could feel her rhythm, smell her essence, and his fangs slid out further than he thought possible.

  He wanted her so bad he was shaking. This woman was his, and he was through exercising temperance. Why should he? Whose fault was it if she couldn’t (or wouldn’t) understand what he was? Hadn’t he been as honest as he could about the danger? Hadn’t he told her not to touch him?

  Drunk logic if there was such a thing.

  Still watching her throat, Sabian swallowed the flooding venom and said, "If you let me start taking when I please, it’s not something either of us can just decide to stop when it’s not comfortable anymore." He unconsciously began moving his face closer to her neck. "I can’t always control myself. I’ve hurt you before."

  She shuddered as his breath caressed the very spot on her neck where he’d bitten her earlier.

  "Don’t say," she said. "We’ll get to that." And then she straightened her posture, and leaned her head back, as exposed as if she were naked and spread eagle.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sabian stiffened from head to toe, the desire at his groin jutting out almost as far as his fangs. Was he actually going to do this? Now wasn’t the time. He could make the change right here and now, but he wasn’t sober enough to trust himself. He could entrance her like before so he didn’t have to contend with her desire, but that wasn’t good enough. Goddamn, he wanted this. He wasn’t proud of his weakness, but he also wasn’t strong enough to fight it. Not after all this time. Not with her here before him, neck outstretched and blood singing.

  Goddamn right he was going to do this. He was born to do this, and she was made for him.

  Sabian removed his hand from her throat, and cupped it behind her head. Getting up close and personal, he had to be gentle, and he let his lips settle over the softness of her neck. He lingered there for a second, savoring the flavor of her skin on his tongue until he thought he would climax, ready to come without even touching her body.

  "Do it," she shuddered.

  He waited, though. Sabian held out until he could take it no more, a final homage to his years of sacrifice. His fangs ached for more length when none was available, and oh God, his erection anguished with the need to seed her with everything he was inside and out.

  It was goddamn decisive when he finally pierced her with his fangs and began.

  Marley moaned, and Sabian’s pants jerked in response. Now that the riptide pulled him along, he couldn’t believe he’d kept his compulsions bridled for so long, carried on a coherent conversation. Delicious. He had to find out if she tasted like this all over.

  Marley leaned in, a sex-purr vibrating her throat, hands tangled in his hair, and Sabian knew she felt it—the pure ecstasy of having her blood let. There was nothing like it.

  Sabian had to be careful. Ten swallows were sufficient for a full and satisfactory feeding. Anything more than ten became dangerous for the donor, but if he allowed himself more than ten, he probably wasn’t with a donor. He was with a victim.

  He had to be so deliberate about this. Her breath was hot in his ear, her hands greedy as they traveled the topography of his lean body. He moaned against her flesh when she climbed on top; he was still latched to her throat but found a way to push against that part of her that needed him, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and ground him right back at him. It wasn’t even a conscious thing, this submission to her body's demands.

  Sabian was lost, a tiny tourist on a sea of bloodlust, tossed about by desperation to let his climax go. Marley was in the most dangerous possible position. This feeling was what he most wanted and most feared at the same time. He kept his attention as much as possible on counting his swallows, but it was difficult with this woman’s blood on his tongue and her body directing the traffic of his hunger.

  Six, seven gulps. Marley unfurled her legs from behind him and knelt, unbuckling his pants and gasping. She got the zipper down, took him in her hands, and began to stroke. Sabian growled hard against her throat and bucked against her palm.

  "Yes." Her throaty voice silenced the protest he wanted to make. No way he could stop now, not with her free hand beneath the front of his shirt, nails raking along his chest. For any other man it might have been painful, but to Sabian it was rapture and he convulsed as the orgasm threatened to break loose. He was going to come. It had to happen.

  Between ragged breaths, she said, "You’re skin is on fire."

  God help him, that was all he could take. Sh
e was right. Her blood stoked his core temp to outrageous levels. Satisfying his thirst wasn’t like human digestion; the effect was immediate, his vampire metabolism flipped on like a light switch as soon as she hit his tongue.

  "Come on, I want you—now," she demanded.

  Oh….yeah. He would take her. Had to. Sabian eased backward with Marley on top of him, swinging his legs onto the couch, all without releasing his hold on her throat.

  He haggled with himself about how much more he could take. Had to be ten by now. So much for being deliberate. With Monster-Truck willpower, Sabian was gentle when he slid his fangs out and starting working toward sliding something else in. His pants were kicked down around his knees in a tangle of feet, and then they both worked her pajama bottoms and panties all the way off.

  Marley looked like a poodle-skirt teen at an Elvis concert, half swooning from the bloodletting, and one hundred percent flushed from need. He lifted her up and began a new course of pleasure, placing her weight just so as he slid inside, pushing slowly so she could open for what he had for her. He knew he was big, always had been, and knew ways to give Marley what she wanted without the pain he had the potential to inflict.

  When her back arched and her long red curls tickled his thighs, Sabian knew she could take it. He gripped her hip with one hand, guiding her movements, and reached for that spot where their bodies connected with his other hand. His fingers slipped into place and he rubbed her little treasure.

  "Goddamn, Sabian," she gasped, and sat upright on top of him, still moving against his cock—back and forth, up and down.

  "Like that?" he asked. God, he could come right now.

  Letting go of her hip with his left hand, he pushed her thermal up, finding her breast captured beneath her sports-bra. He teased her nipple until it stood out against the binding fabric, and he had to get it to his mouth. Fucking thing was efficient at its job, but he finally shoved it up and over her creamy mound. It took about a millisecond to get the pink point between his thumb and forefinger, not squeezing, only teasing. He let his eyes slide from his thumb against her clit down where their bodies were joined to her little pink nipple rolling against his fingers, and then to her eyes, which were gobbling the whole scene with heavy lids. Yeah, like that for sure.