His Lover's Fangs Page 3

  In the end, it wasn’t really a mistake on his part that finally allowed her to trap him beneath her. Instead, it was her intimate knowledge of how he moved and breathed, of the rhythm his blows followed. She knew him just as well as he knew her, and while he had always had the advantage of power over her, she had made up for it with her speed and agility. Becoming a vampire had accentuated her strengths, but it had also given her more power—enough to match Logan’s. Hand to hand, with nothing but a stake, he had been doomed from the start—just like she had been when Ann had confronted her.

  Had she really been trying to kill him, it might not have taken her so long to take him down, but she couldn’t afford to hurt him too badly.

  Instincts drew her down until her mouth was only a couple inches from his throat. She could see his skin pulse with life, with blood, and it made her fangs itch.

  The same instinct caused her to freeze when she felt the tip of the stake press against her chest. Everything inside her screamed for her to move back, away from that piece of wood that meant death. Away from the man who had meant so much to her. She forced herself to remain very still and waited. Moments ago, she had wished for a last fuck before it all ended; now, she could only regret that she would never get a last kiss.

  * * * *

  For years, the feel of wood in his closed hand had been as familiar to Logan as the feel of his own skin. He had staked vampires without hesitating, knowing that each of them was guilty, knowing that each kill meant saved human lives.

  But now… He couldn’t do it.

  Memories assaulted his mind, freezing him in a stalemate with the ghost of a woman he had loved—would love until he died, whether that was that moments or years away.

  He remembered the night she had shown up at his dorm at the Academy. He had noticed her before, like he had noticed the fifty or so other students in his class, each of whom he had been paired with for training at one point or another. But until she had stood in front of him, he had never noticed how clear her eyes were, like perfect jade stones, almost translucent.

  He remembered another night, just weeks later. She had shown up at his dorm window that time, in the middle of the night, and simply said he was distracting her too much during class. Her solution was for them to sleep together—expulsion risks notwithstanding—and get it out of their systems. “And don’t pretend you don’t want me,” she had added with a wicked grin. “I’m not blind, and neither are you.” It had only been the first of many times they broke that particular rule together.

  He remembered… so much. So many smiles, so many laughs. So much love. So many dreams. All of it replayed in his mind, and he wondered if that was what people meant when they said their lives flashed before their eyes when their lives were in danger.

  Olivia’s fangs were just inches from his neck. Her weight was pinning him down, but he could easily have thrown her off him. Doing so, however, would have required that he let go of the stake, or at least shift his grip on it, and he had no doubt that his stake and the threat it represented were the only things stopping her from killing him. It pressed against her chest, precisely over her heart. All he needed to do to save himself, to fulfill his promise to her, the same promise she had made to him, was to push the stake up. If either of them was to become a vampire, they had long ago agreed, the other would be the one to kill them.

  He just couldn’t do it.

  Blind panic coursed through him, the kind of fear he had never experienced before. It wasn’t the first time his life had been in danger, far from it. But to this day, he had always fought with one clear certainty at the back of his mind: Olivia was there, close enough to help him if he needed her.

  And now… She was there, like always. But she was also the reason why he was in danger.

  He knew he would die if he didn’t kill her first. She had attacked him and so given him the right to kill her. But having the right to kill her and the opportunity to do so, did not mean he could do it. He had loved her too much.

  He had told her earlier and it had been not only stupid but also dangerous, but there was no denying it. He still loved her. That promise had been a mistake.

  Time passed. Long seconds ticked away by the slowing beats of Logan’s heart. Olivia’s hair had slipped free of the ponytail and was falling like a curtain over her shoulder.

  He didn’t press the stake upward; she didn’t bite him.

  “What are you waiting for?” she sneered, almost mocking. “A last goodbye? A last kiss before I tear your throat out?”

  Despite the threatening growl in her last words, she wasn’t moving, either. Poised above him, she seemed to be waiting. Waiting for what, he wondered? For death? Why would she—

  The thought struck him out of nowhere and left him dazed and breathless. She hadn’t hurt him. They had fought, and he had put all his strength, all his skills into each blow. He knew he had hurt her. Through it all, though, she hadn’t really hurt him. Oh, he would have bruises come morning, but nothing that would last more than a few days, nothing that could have truly incapacitated him. He had received worse while training before. Not only that, but at no moment had Olivia tried to pick up a weapon. She had passed the crossbow when she had first rushed in. She had run past the knives in the kitchen. She could have grabbed a sword from the dining room after she had stopped him from entering it. Any of those would have helped her kill him faster, or at least allowed her to incapacitate him if she wanted to finish him with her fangs. And those, the one weapon she had, she didn’t use.

  He finally understood, and the realization made burning anger course through his veins. He shoved his hand up—hitting her shoulder with his fist rather than the stake, pushing her off him and rolling away from her.

  “Damn it, Liv! How dare you do this to me!”

  She sat back against the wall, feet flat on the floor and knees in front of her chest. All the emotions he had seen on her face tonight were gone. The anger, the threats, the hunger, and the desire had disappeared. All that remained was an immense weariness.

  Logan pulled away until his back hit the opposite wall. His right hand was still clenched over the stake, and he breathed in deeply to try to calm his raging heartbeat.

  “Why?” he asked when he trusted his voice not to waver.

  Olivia gave the smallest of shrugs, her eyes avoiding his. “I was just trying to make it easier on you.”

  “Why?” Logan said again, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Olivia smiled, but the warmth that usually radiated through her entire face was absent. She had never looked so sad, and something twisted inside Logan. He wanted to reach out to her, draw her into his arms, but he was still too mad for that. All he did was drop the stake, and it clattered on the wooden floor between them.

  “Because I can’t live like this,” she said with a sigh. “You know I never wanted to.” She finally looked up and met his eyes. “And it had to be you, lover.”

  Jumping to his feet, he shook an angry finger at her. “You selfish—” He pressed his lips tightly together rather than letting out an ugly word. He’d never called her names before today. As angry as he was, he still didn’t want to. “I can’t believe—”

  He gritted his teeth and pushed the heels of his hands hard against his prickling eyes. He wasn’t going to cry. He refused to. He had cried enough when he had lost her, he wasn’t going to start again now. Not when he was realizing that, maybe, he had just found her again.

  He heard her come closer to him. She took his hands in hers, gently pulling them away from his face. He snatched them free and tried to push her back, but she slipped closer to him, kneeling over his legs, and wove her arms around him. She pressed her face against his chest and breathed in deep, like she had done a hundred, a thousand times before.

  Logan’s mind was a mess, with too many contradictory thoughts bouncing through his head. His body, on the other hand, recognized the pattern. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around Olivia and held her tightly,
pressing a kiss to her temple. Her skin was cool, but it was as soft as he remembered.

  “Are you going to do it?” she murmured without looking up at him. And then, a little louder, she added, “You promised, Logan.”

  “Are you killing?” he asked and tried not to hope too much.

  Olivia met his eyes for a second before dropping her gaze to his chest. She grimaced. “I didn’t have a choice, the first couple of nights. My Sire was watching me pretty close. She threw these people at me, and I had to—”

  Logan wanted to tell her it wasn’t her fault, wanted to ask if she felt guilt, but something else was more important. He had been hoping for a reason not to kill Olivia, and he might just get it.

  “And since I killed Ann?”

  * * * *

  Should she lie, Olivia wondered, or should she tell the truth? If she lied, she’d probably get what she wanted—peace. If she told the truth, it might be easier for Logan to hear, but where would that leave them?

  Time trickled by while Olivia considered the now calm and regular beat of Logan’s heart. Sometimes, she had trouble remembering her life before she had met him. He had been her partner, in all senses of the word, for close to ten years. They had learned their job together, had learned to love it as they learned to love each other. They had saved each other’s lives. They had laughed and cried, argued and made up, held each other and guarded each other’s backs. Never, though, had Olivia lied to him—not until this night. She didn’t like to lie. She didn’t want to do it anymore.

  “No,” she finally answered, her voice barely louder than a murmur. “I haven’t killed a human since you killed her.”

  “Then you can control yourself?”

  An immense hope filled his words and twisted Olivia’s guts. She shrugged, putting all her resignation into the gesture. “So far. It doesn’t mean I’ll always be able to.” How could she explain to him the hunger gnawing at her, the call of blood, and how hard it was to be so close to him when the cuts from their fight released the scent of what, to her, was now pure life. She couldn’t promise him anything. She couldn’t even promise herself she’d never hurt him.

  “There are other ways for vampires to feed,” he insisted. “You don’t need to kill.”

  There was such expectation in his eyes that Olivia had to look away. It would have been so easy to let herself be seduced by his words. So easy to follow him on this path, even though she knew how dangerous it could be. How dangerous for him.

  “Even so…” She sighed. “I never wanted—”

  “You never wanted to be a killer,” he interrupted her, laying a finger across her lips. “And it looks like you still don’t want to be. So where’s the problem?”

  She shook her head and tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn’t let go. “Did you hear what I said?” she sighed. “I killed—”

  “Tell me this,” he cut in again. “Would you have killed them if she hadn’t made you?”

  Olivia thought back to those first nights, to those humans cowering in front of her and her Sire, and to the thrill of the hunt that had pulsed through her in place of the heartbeat she had lost. “I…” She lowered her gaze to the floor and swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”

  Logan cupped her cheek into his palm and gently made her look up at him. “I do,” he said, his voice shaking with intensity. “You wouldn’t have killed. You haven’t changed a bit.” Lowering his hand, he grinned. His eyes were sparkling, already warning her that he was about to tease her. “You’re still the same idiot.”

  Olivia narrowed her eyes at him, giving him an exasperated look. “Hey, a bit of respect for the vamp who could rip out your throat.”

  “Could you?” he said, clearly incredulous. “Really? Nothing is stopping you. Why don’t you?”

  He spread his arms wide, angling his head and baring his throat as though to invite her—or maybe taunt her. And he called her an idiot?

  With a quiet growl, she lunged for his neck. She expected the scent of fear to rise from him, but seconds passed and his scent didn’t change. His heartbeat did not stutter. He did not try to push her off. All he did was close his arms around her again and hold her tighter. Part of her wanted to berate him, bite him with blunt teeth, hard, and give him a lesson he’d never forget: she was dangerous. He couldn’t afford to trust her. Not ever. She could kill him.

  But all she did was kiss him, a light brush of her mouth against his pulse point.

  Logan’s hand moved up her back until he was cupping her head in his palm. He held her close. “I was hoping so hard,” he murmured. His other hand ran up and down her back, soothing away her fears like nothing had changed. “I knew I shouldn’t be. The Academy warned us not to. I knew what I’d have to do. But I couldn’t help just hoping still.”

  You shouldn’t have, she wanted to tell him. I could have killed you. Turned you. And then what? But when she raised her head, when she looked at him, no words came to her lips. Instead, she caught herself staring at his lips. She had wanted that last kiss so much, and now nothing was stopping her from taking it. Nothing was stopping her from asking for more than a kiss.

  And there was no reason for any of it to be their last time.

  She laid her mouth against his, soft and caressing, and slipped her tongue along his bottom lip, then the top one, licking gently without slipping past his lips.

  Logan pulled away and grinned at her, his eyes sparkling. “You don’t need an invite for this, too, do you?”

  She crashed her mouth back onto his and proved to him that she didn’t.

  * * * *

  Logan could hardly believe this was happening.

  He had almost killed Olivia, only to realize that was what she wanted. He had finally managed to convince himself that he had lost her, only to have her come back to him like this.

  Any second, now, he was going to wake up and it would all be a dream.

  Any second, he would wake up and lose her all over again.

  He held her tightly, more tightly maybe than he would have dared if she had been human and breathing. She only kissed him harder still, her hands framing his face at first, then sliding down to caress his neck, knead his shoulders and biceps, clinging to him as she always did.

  Finding the hem of her shirt, he tugged it out of her pants and pulled it up. She protested when they had to break apart so that he could pull it off her, the sound low in her throat, almost like a growl. Logan shivered. As he finished divesting her of the garment, she grabbed his shoulders with both hands and tugged him away from the wall against which he was resting, pushing him down until he was lying on the floor. She tore his t-shirt off him. The sound of ripping fabric filled Logan’s mind when she plunged for his neck.

  He waited for his body to tense, for fear to flow through his veins like blood and ice. But the shiver that coursed down his spine all the way to his balls wasn’t due to fear or how cool her lips were. Instead, need made him arch against her and offer his throat to her. He had done as much so often before that it was hard to remember why it could prove to be a terrible idea.

  At the feel of her mouth, his eyes closed. She wouldn’t hurt him. He knew she wouldn’t. And when she sucked hard on his neck, the mark she left was no different from the many hickeys she had left on him before. He’d always teased her about it, joked she had an oral fetish. It didn’t seem like a joke any more.

  When she lifted her mouth to admire her work, her hair spread on either side of her face and tickled him. He grabbed her waist and twisted, rolling their bodies until he was on top of her. He took hold of her wrists and held them above her head, gathering them in one hand. She could have broken free easily, but she kept her arms in place as he kissed her temple, then her cheek, then slid down to her neck. The bite marks that had made her what she now was were healed but easily recognizable under his tongue. She bucked and moaned when he scrapped his teeth against them.

  “Like that?” he murmured, kissing his way lower still. “How ‘bout
this?”

  He licked a path along the strap of her bra, then followed the lacy edge to the valley between her breasts. She kept moving under him, not hard enough to throw him off, but clearly trying to guide his mouth to whichever of her nipples he was closest to at any given time. He thwarted her efforts and continued to kiss along the edges of the bra until she understood his game and became very still beneath him.

  Pressing his grin into her right breast, he finally gave her what she wanted, closing his mouth over her nipple and sucking until the fabric was soaked through and clinging to the hardened nub. Not to neglect the other nipple, he cupped it in his hand and rubbed his thumb back and forth until it hardened, too.

  A tiny, wordless, needy sound rose to Olivia’s lips when his mouth resumed its journey down her body, but one hand lightly caressing each of her breasts appeased her.

  His mouth trailed lower still, sliding on skin he knew so well and that seemed so different now that it was cooler. He raked his teeth against her stomach, and she arched into him with a quiet grunt.

  “Stop playing,” she demanded, but to Logan it sounded like, keep doing what you’ve been doing.

  He tried pulling the zipper of her pants down with his teeth, but he had to admit to himself that wouldn’t work. Dropping his hands to her pants, he undid them quickly and started drawing them down. As close as he was, he could smell the scent of her desire, thick and heady. His movements became jerky, impatient, as he continued to undress her.

  She raised herself onto her elbows, and he could feel her eyes on him as he pulled off her pants and panties in the same movement, stopping at her knees to tug her boots off so he could finish. Her gaze was scorching.

  When he sat back on his heels, he was panting as though he had just run a hundred-meter dash; his body felt just as heavy, just as reluctant to move. He could have spent hours simply watching her, as she sat there in nothing but a bra, disheveled, wetness glistening in the curls that hid her sex. He felt a pang of need at how beautiful she was. He’d always considered himself lucky, and had always wondered what she saw in him. He wondered that same thing when he realized she was watching him back just as intensely.