CheckMate Page 10

  "Like what you see?” she asked, her tone teasing.

  Pretending to reflect on her question, he leaned back on his heels and detailed her from toes to head. He had never considered himself a man with a foot fetish, but he had a sudden urge to reach forward and caress the arches of her feet, so perfect as she relaxed there, so deadly when she fought. Long, smooth, flawless legs led his eyes up to the nest of dark curls he couldn't wait to explore again. Shapely hips slowly curved up to her deliciously full, delightfully supple breast. Her nipples were hard buds begging for attention that he couldn't wait to lavish on them. His eyes stopped a little longer at her neck and the silver line that graced it. On the opposite side, he knew without looking, was an aged bite mark, the one that had made her what she was today; somehow, he surprised himself wishing he had bitten over it and erased that reminder of her Sire. Shaking his head lightly at the thought, he finally looked at her face. Framed by dark hair that she so often kept tied back but that now barely brushed her shoulders, her face was quite simply lovely. Not extraordinarily beautiful, but well defined features, a pretty, very kissable mouth, knowing eyes that he still couldn't decide were gray or green and that were now watching him with amusement...

  "So?” she asked, and could it have been a twinge of insecurity in her voice? “Do I pass your inspection?"

  Lying next to her, he let his gaze trail over her one more time, knowing his hands and mouth would soon follow and explore her again.

  You are beautiful.

  The words once more presented themselves to his mind, and he once again stifled them. They were too close to an admission of feelings he couldn't give her; it would have been cruel to play with her like that. Therefore, instead of speaking, he pressed his mouth to hers and let his lips give her an answer.

  * * * *

  When she had been human, Lilia had never envied another woman for her body. She had envied their clothes, enough to have her seamstresses overdo themselves before each party she had ever attended. She had also envied their jewelry, sometimes, and known exactly how to convince her father, in five minutes or less, to add to her collection. But she had been satisfied with her figure, and confident in the effect it had on men.

  As a vampire, there had never been a reason to wonder. She had been turned just as she had slipped from being a coltish girl to the first bloom of womanhood, and she would be forever young, forever beautiful, forever herself.

  But when Vincent, kneeling by her, detailed her body with such an intensity that she could have sworn she felt his eyes burning her, she was, for the first time, afraid.

  Afraid that he would notice the many scars that covered her. She had fought a lot, in seventeen decades. She had been hurt a lot. And there had been Nathanael's games with knives. Because she was a vampire, the wounds healed thoroughly and, in time, the scars disappeared completely, but the most recent ones were still there, still visible to someone who looked closely enough.

  Afraid, also, that the pallor of her skin would turn him off, and remind him that she hadn't seen the light of day in many, many years. Next to his healthy tan, she looked sickly and bland.

  Afraid, primarily, that he was taking so much time because there was something wrong with her, and he was just too polite to say it outright. Had she been human, her heart would have been hammering in her chest and threatening to break free.

  Then, finally, he answered her question and her fears, not with words that could so easily deceive or lie, but with a kiss in which she could taste his honesty.

  Yes, he liked what he saw. More than liked, if she was to believe the way his cock throbbed against her abdomen.

  She rolled their bodies so that she was above him, and pulled back to look at him as he had looked at her. Arms crossed behind his head, a small smile tugging at his lips, he arched an eyebrow at her.

  "Like what you see?” he threw her question back at her.

  Did she?

  She had had many lovers, over the course of the past two centuries. Nathanael, of course, both his body and face fit to be sculpted in the finest marble, but countless others, too, vampires and humans alike as she had never seen anything wrong in playing with her food. Some of them had been taller, stronger, better built than the man her eyes now detailed. Some had even had nicer cocks, even if Vincent had nothing to be ashamed of in that matter. But none of them, not even Nathanael, not even when, as a fledgling, she had been so taken with him, had ever made her feel as Vincent did without ever trying. None of them had ever made her feel like a teenager with a crush whose heart beats too fast and cheeks burn too hot.

  "You're beautiful,” she answered simply.

  It was nothing more than the truth to her, but the words had him look at her with surprise, as though he didn't quite believe her. He should have, she thought, a little amused. She wasn't one to offer compliments, much less when she didn't mean them.

  Without waiting one more second, she started touching him, pressing open mouth kisses on the inside of his thigh, just below his navel, right over his heart, and finally at the crook of his neck, on that one spot that made him, just a little bit, hers. He was trembling against her by the time she reached his lips, and she could only smile at the power she had over him, could only hope that she would always have it.

  Chapter 11

  The first time Don noticed something amiss was a couple of days after the friendly spell had gone wrong. He dropped by Vincent's house one afternoon after closing the mystical library he owned to talk about Jeanie and how he had started looking at engagement rings even though she hadn't said a word about marriage since that awful night. When Vincent opened the door and invited him in, it took him a moment to pinpoint what it was that was different about his friend, and when he did, his eyes threatened to pop out. Vincent continued to talk, oblivious to Don's sudden cold sweat, rambling about what a good catch Jeanie was and how happy he was for them. And all the while, he was absently rubbing at his neck. At the two healed but still slightly red marks on his neck. At the glaringly obvious vampire bite mark.

  It occurred to Don at that moment that, when he had come to do the truth-speaking spell on Lilia, Vincent's hair had been damp as though he had just been out of the shower but he had been wearing a shirt with every button done up. Hiding something?

  A dozen questions burned his lips, but Don managed not to ask anything. If Vincent had wanted to share, he would have told him. Obviously, he had to have been bitten by Lilia during the spell. But why, if they had been such good friends as Vincent had claimed? Surprising, also, that Vincent hadn't staked her immediately.

  Don kept his thoughts to himself, and did an internal jig at the thought that Lilia was dust.

  The second clue was to discover that Lilia was, actually, not dust. That, Don questioned, often and loudly, but Vincent was unable to come up with a satisfying explanation. Each time he tried, he fumbled with the words, always ending by saying that he knew he could trust Lilia. Always saying those words with a touch to his neck.

  That was the third clue. Vincent often touched his neck there, right on the scar, but it never seemed to be a conscious gesture. Don asked him, once, if the scar itched or hurt, and Vincent snatched his hand back as if burned, and stuttered that it didn't. He never asked how Don knew, which had to mean he still didn't want to talk about it.

  Then ... then there was Lilia. She had been lucky not to have been staked after the spell, and if she had known what was good for her the vampire should have disappeared after she had been set free. They should never have seen her again. Yet, they had. She hadn't gone away. On the contrary, she seemed to be around even more than before. And because she was around so often, Don noticed that, just like Vincent, she often touched her neck, where the collar of her shirts almost completely covered what looked like a bruise, or mark.

  All the clues added up to something that scared Don. He ignored it, or tried to, as long as he could, but when Vincent started patrolling regularly with Lilia, when he started defending
her against Don's criticism, he couldn't ignore it anymore. He researched the matter at work—it was quite useful to have so many vampire books around—and his fears were confirmed.

  He insisted on tagging along for one of their hunts, to see them interact more closely, and Lilia's bad mood, clearly caused by his presence, only added to it all. Then it became a question of whom to talk to first, Vincent or Lilia.

  * * * *

  The flame of a candle flickered, and Lilia watched as shadows danced over Vincent's skin. He had fallen asleep after their last romp, and even though there was little more she wanted to do than snuggle against him and join his dreams, except maybe make love to him again, she did her best to remain awake. He hadn't said anything, but she strongly suspected that he would need to go home soon.

  He had left his father in his home to hunt with Don and her, he probably wouldn't want to stay the night and risk possibly embarrassing questions as to where he had been, supposing that he even wanted to stay. So, she watched him sleep, thought about what it was that they shared, and wondered how long she ought to let him rest before awakening him.

  As it had happened so often before, she caught herself caressing the twin scars on his neck that marked him as her Mate. He shifted in his sleep, moving a little closer to her and mumbling something unintelligible. He was so sensitive to her touch; she couldn't help but be in awe at how much her caresses affected him. Then again, his touch could set her aflame just as easily.

  The invitation was too good to resist, and she leaned into his neck, flicking her tongue against the two raised points of scarred skin. This time, if she judged by the way that his hand came to rest at the back of her neck, he awoke.

  "'S nice,” he mumbled sleepily. “Do it again."

  Smiling, she obliged, and this time trailed her lips against his skin. He hummed at the sensation, and Lilia could feel his cock reawakening, pressing, hard and needy, against her hip. It would have been all too easy to maneuver him onto his back and guide him inside her once more, but she managed to hold on to her earlier resolve. She wouldn't allow him to regret his time with her for any reason.

  "Do you have to go home?” she asked, pulling back a little.

  He let out a small grumble of protest. “Tease. Are you trying to get rid of me?"

  A corner of her mouth twitched up. “I'd keep you right here until the world ended if I could,” she said, and she couldn't have been more truthful. “But since I can't, I'd rather not have you regret coming here and decide not to do it anymore when you realize you don't want to lie to daddy dearest about where you've been."

  A slight frown appeared on his brow as he rested his cheek against his closed fist. “How do you know about that?"

  She shrugged and mirrored his position. “Heard him earlier. When I came to get you. Window was open."

  Nodding absently, Vincent appeared to be lost in thought for a while, and Lilia wanted to do something, anything, to bring him back to her. He finally did before her resolve not to kick him could crumble.

  "How much did you hear?” he asked, sounding a little embarrassed.

  "Just that you called someone ‘dad’ and told him you had to go do your job."

  He grimaced apologetically. “Wish I could have introduced you but ... He wouldn't understand. You and me, I mean. He's never liked vamps, and he hates that I even come in contact with vampires with my job, so telling him that I am..."

  He hesitated, seemingly unsure how to continue, and she tried to help. Tried, also, to soften her words with a small smile.

  "Mated with a vamp? Fucking her in your spare time?"

  "Working with one,” he finished with a slight shake of his head, “that might not go too well."

  He had taken the easy way out, Lilia realized that, but she still could hear in her mind the way he had said ‘you and me'. And she couldn't get over the fact that she just wanted to hear him say these silly words again. There was something else she wanted to know, too.

  "I also heard him mention your mother."

  His eyes took a darker tint. “She's dead."

  She asked before she could stop herself. “Vampire?"

  She thought she knew the answer to that question; it would have explained why he had become a Special Enforcer. Therefore, she was surprised when he quietly said “no” and stood. She was about to ask how she had died, but she didn't need to.

  "She had a car accident. Died instantly."

  He paused, boxers forgotten in his hands for a second, then continued, his voice still as devoid of feeling.

  "The other car was speeding. Someone driving their friend to the hospital after a vampire attacked them. They died too."

  He stopped then, and Lilia felt like she ought to have offered some kind of apology for bringing the subject up, but she didn't know what to say.

  "Want me to walk you home?” she asked while watching him dress and button his jeans.

  He threw a faint smile at her. “Walk me home? Afraid I'll run into some vamps and won't be able to take care of myself?"

  She forced out a laugh, but in truth, he was right. She didn't doubt that Nathanael's patience was running thin, especially with the loss of the Childe Lilia had staked and that he had certainly attributed to Jordan. How long until he came up with a plan to eliminate Jordan? How long, for that matter, until he came looking for Lilia?

  "Always,” she replied. “And hoping I'll talk you into a quickie before I have to let you go."

  He rolled his eyes at her, but she did notice with some relief that he was grinning.

  "I was ready for more,” he pointed out with a shake of his head. “You're the one who reminded me I had better get home before my father fills out a missing person report."

  Lilia shook her head, incredulous at how easy all of this was. It was hard to believe that the previous night he had closed the door without letting her in. How had they gone from that to him sharing about the death of his mother, and then following with this quiet banter?

  "Something wrong?” Vincent asked, his smile gone, and she realized that she had been staring at him.

  "Just can't believe this is happening,” she admitted.

  "'This'?” he repeated. “What's this?"

  "You. Me. Fucking. Talking like two civilized people after fucking. Laughing. You not trying to stake me. Not running away even now that you know..."

  She couldn't say it. Not like this. She hadn't meant to say it in the first place, and she didn't want to repeat it when she knew he didn't feel the same way. He seemed to understand what she meant, though, because he nodded slightly.

  "I know; it's strange for me too. And I..."

  She raised an eyebrow when he interrupted himself and dropped his eyes to the floor for a second.

  "And I'm not promising anything,” he finished, looking back up at her. “Maybe I'm going to wake up one morning and realize this was all a terrible mistake."

  Lilia froze as she heard him voice her biggest fear. He noticed her reaction and came back near the bed. He seemed to hesitate for a second, and then reached out to caress the rounded bite mark at the crook of her neck with barely-there fingers. She shivered.

  "Then again, maybe not,” he whispered.

  He was about to pull back when she caught both his forearms and wrestled him to the bed. He was so surprised by the move that he didn't struggle or say a word as she pushed him onto his back, undid his pants, and shoved his boxers down enough to free his cock. A few strokes had him hard again in seconds.

  She threw a devious look up at him before taking his length into her mouth, and reveled in the way he half-breathed, half-moaned her name. One of these nights, she would keep him up, begging and wanting for hours with what she could do with her mouth and tongue, but now wasn't the right time. He needed to get home, so she needed to be quick.

  She could do quick.

  She used all the tricks she knew, teasing the head of his cock with her tongue and lips before working her way down and taking him whole do
wn her throat while gentle fingers massaged his balls. But it was the light scraping of her careful human teeth on the sides of his length when she slid back up that made him gasp, and so she did it again, down and up, her tight hand pumping the flesh she uncovered as she was coming back up again. A third time was enough and his hips arched up against her as he erupted in her mouth.

  Slithering upward against his body, she smiled to herself at his dazed look and commented:

  "Tasty, almost as much as your blood."

  He blinked, once, twice, and she laughed before pulling back and fastening his jeans again. By the time she was done, he had recovered enough to sit up and pull her in for a feverish kiss.

  "I'll get you back for that later,” he promised as he let go of her mouth. “You wicked, wicked, evil woman."

  "Funny,” she snickered, “I didn't hear you complain when I had you down my throat."

  Another kiss, which left even Lilia breathless, and he stood, clearly regretting letting go of her. “Good night, Lilia."

  "Night Vincent. Sweet dreams."

  She waited until he had left the mausoleum and then threw on some clothes before going out after him. She didn't let him see her, but she felt better knowing he had reached his home without problems.

  Chapter 12

  His father had dozed off on the sofa in front of the television by the time Vincent returned home, and despite his attempt at opening and closing the door as quietly as possible, he woke him up.

  "You should have gone to sleep,” Vincent said immediately, slightly apologetic.

  "Sleep? No, it's not...” A quick look at his watch had Emery Jordan frowning in surprise. “OK, it is late. Later than I would have thought you'd be back. Trouble on the way? Did you get hurt?"

  Shrugging off his coat, Vincent hung it by the door and proceeded to unlace his boots as he answered. It had seemed to take far less time when Lilia had done it for him earlier that night. It had been far more enjoyable, too.