Blurred Bloodlines [2nd in Blurred Trilogy] Page 4

  "Can I..."

  He was much too old to be embarrassed about sex, but somehow being with someone as young as Kate, not even as old as he had been when he'd been turned, made him feel like he had never touched another woman before.

  "Anything,” she breathed when he didn't finish, and something stirred inside Marc's chest at the softness of her smile.

  He kissed her lips, then the hollow of her throat. Her pulse beat like a drum, fast and strong, urging him on.

  He continued to press closed-mouth kisses down her body, stopping only to lay his hands on her thighs. They parted at the barest hint of pressure, and he lay between them, his face mere inches from her hot, wet folds. This close, the sweet scent of her need was almost overwhelming. With a last chaste kiss on that less-than-chaste place, Marc allowed himself the taste he had wanted since the first time Blake had come back to their bed smelling of sex and contentment and Kate. His tongue ran up along her slit, gathering wetness, ending at her clitoris. He circled it slowly, pushing back the hood of flesh that hid it, then dipped down again.

  Kate's legs spread out a little more widely, giving him more room. He rested a hand on her silky thigh; it trembled beneath his touch like the core of her trembled against his mouth. He pushed his tongue inside her. Her quiet moan was sheer music; the way her hips arched, pressing her closer to his face still, was a dance. He lapped at her folds, gathering her wetness on his tongue, before paying close attention to her clit again, learning as he went back and forth how much pressure caused her to moan or writhe, and where she was most sensitive.

  He had intended to make her come with his mouth, but as her breathing grew ragged, her fingers raked through his hair and tightened until he was pulling off her. He looked up her body, meeting her gaze when she raised her head. Her face was flushed, the blue-gray of her eyes all but swallowed by the black of her pupils.

  "Not... not like that,” she panted. “The first time... I want... together."

  Marc's cock twitched beneath him. Grinning, he leaned down for a last, long lick that left her shuddering and started his way back up her body.

  As his mouth trailed over her belly, he met the slightly rough and uneven scar that ran diagonally across her lower abdomen. She shivered as he caressed it, and he moved down again to follow it with his lips from one end to the other. He remembered the night she had been hurt, and how that had helped change Blake's attitude about fighting. Marc would have prevented her from getting hurt if he could have, but he was grateful that a good thing had come from her pain—grateful to her for showing his Childe what Marc had failed to teach him in decades: that not everything was about him and his enjoyment.

  He slid up her body again, pressing kisses along the curve of her breasts and higher still until he was at her throat. He kissed along the warmed silver of her necklace all the way to her neck. Her hands, which had been gripping his shoulders for a while, tightened enough that he felt the pinpricks of her nails digging into his skin. He raised his head to look at her, expecting to find fear in her eyes, but they were shut tight. He laid a small kiss across her lips.

  "Kate...” He breathed her name like he would have a prayer. “I wouldn't bite you. You've got to know that."

  She caressed his cheek with a trembling hand. “I do know it,” she murmured. “But I'm not afraid.” She paused, and her voice dropped even lower. “That's what scares me."

  He considered her for a moment, taking in her words. She was hardly the first human to ever sleep with a vampire—or even two. When the time came, she also wouldn't be the first to allow herself to be bitten. He just wouldn't have believed that she would come to it so fast. Then again, underestimating Blake's powers of persuasion had never been a good idea. He wondered if Blake knew, or what he would think when she told him. It didn't even occur to him that she might want him to bite her first rather than Blake. And even if she wanted it...

  He fastened his mouth on her neck again and sucked hard. She bucked underneath him, clutching at his shoulders and pulling him closer. He only drew back when he was sure he had left a mark. He didn't drink from humans, but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy marking a lover. He hoped he would be there to see Blake's reaction when he noticed. What would he think of it?

  Just then, she reached between them and took hold of his cock, her hand burning and confident. With a small, secretive smile, she guided him to her folds, and Marc forgot Blake altogether.

  After shooing Simon out of Kate's room, Blake had put the last touch on his preparations before leaving. He wished more than anything that he could have stayed, and maybe soon he would be invited to, but tonight was for Kate and Marc. He trusted Marc to make the night special for her, and Kate would do the same for him. The only dark blotch on the whole thing was that Blake was left with nothing to occupy himself other than his mind. He had a fairly well-developed imagination, but whatever he imagined would not be anywhere near the truth, he figured, and since he would get them to tell him about their night, what was the point of fantasizing about it until then?

  He went back to the room he shared with Marc, staying there just long enough to grab his sword before making his way to the training room. He slid the scabbard onto his back and held Seneca in hand seconds after he entered the room. He nodded to a pair of soldiers on the first mat and walked over to the farthest one, already swinging the sword left and right. Running through balance exercises and practicing attacks and defense moves was the best way he knew to clear his mind, and in minutes he wasn't thinking about Kate and Marc anymore—or at least, he wasn't thinking about them constantly.

  Half an hour into pushing himself to his limits, just as the familiar burn started spreading through his body, a soldier approached him with a training sword in each hand. There was no need to even say a word. Blake sheathed Seneca, took one of the training swords from the man, and thoughtlessly took position on the mat. It was no different from the training he had done so far. The only change was that he had even fewer opportunities to let his mind drift to other things. All that mattered was the man in front of him, his next move, and how Blake would answer it. The rest of the world didn't exist anymore.

  When the soldier, now limping slightly, bowed out of the sparring match, another one took his place. Then a third. To Blake, it was all the same fight; the men's styles were different, as were their strengths and speeds, but the swords clashed together with the same dull clanking noises.

  Lost in his sparring, Blake didn't notice the comings and goings of the soldiers, not until his last adversary had thanked him and walked away rubbing his side. Blake straightened then, rolling his shoulders to relax them a little, and noticed the man standing just a few feet away with his arms crossed and a slight frown pulling at his eyebrows.

  "Blake. A word."

  Blake put the training sword on a hook on the wall behind him and turned back to eye Daniel warily. He didn't like Daniel much, and he was rather certain that the feeling was mutual. They had been civil toward one another since returning from the City after closing the breach there, but Blake had not forgotten angry words and threats, and he wouldn't forgive them, either.

  "What now?” He stood in front of Daniel and crossed his arms. “We were using training blades so—"

  Daniel stopped that thought with a dismissive gesture. “Spar all you want. God knows we all need training."

  If Blake's supposed rashness wasn't what Daniel wanted to complain about this time, there was only one other topic that Blake could think of. He raised his chin a little higher and did his best to look down at Daniel even though they were the same height. “If it's about Kate again, you know where you can shove your concerns."

  With a tired sigh, Daniel ran a hand over the gray stubble that covered his cheeks. “No, it's not about her either. It's about your Sire, actually.” There was a hitch in his voice when he said the word ‘Sire,’ as though it were unfamiliar, and indeed Blake couldn't remember him ever calling Marc by anything other than his name. “Can we s
it down?"

  Without waiting, he started toward the benches that lined the far end of the room. His curiosity piqued, Blake followed. Daniel sat on the end of one bench, leaning back to rest against the wall behind him, his legs extended in front of him. He would have been the image of relaxation if not for the way his hands clutched the edge of the bench on either side of him, so hard that his knuckles were white. Wondering what this was all about, Blake sat astride the next bench, leaving a two-foot space between them. His scabbard felt awkward like this, and he unbuckled it before sliding the harness off.

  Daniel watched him rest the sword across the bench before he said, “Did you ask Marc to sire you?"

  Taken aback, Blake frowned at him. Whatever he had expected Daniel to talk about, his siring wasn't it. “What?"

  Daniel gritted his teeth and looked straight ahead of him at the training soldiers. “Did you ask him, or did he just do it?"

  "Why do you want to know?” Even as he asked, Blake was sure what thought was suddenly tormenting Daniel. He sneered. “Afraid he'll sire Kate?"

  Still not looking at Blake, Daniel shook his head. “I told you. This isn't about Kate."

  For a moment, Blake was wondering whether too much pressure had finally caused Daniel to snap. The man was not like himself, seeking Blake's company, asking these questions, all the while sounding as though he would rather have been elsewhere. His scent itself was pure confusion: fear and determination mixing together with eagerness. If he hadn't known any better, Blake could have thought Daniel was about to enter a fight he wasn't sure he would survive.

  The flash of insight struck Blake like lightning—as stunning, and as blinding. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward, peering at Daniel as though he had never seen him before. “It's about you. It's about you wanting...” He blinked, the strangeness of his words hitting him before he even voiced them “You want him to sire you?"

  Daniel didn't deny it; his only reaction was to turn his head to face Blake.

  Blake whistled quietly. “I didn't think you had it in you."

  "I don't.” Daniel's words came out like the snap of a whip, his fear seemingly forgotten now, and his usual strength back to the forefront. “I just want to be sure I'll see the end of this fight. I just...” He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. When he spoke again, he was calmer. “Marc is a good fighter. I think he's a good man. I believe he'd be a good Sire.” He let out a little snort at that, and the hint of a smile brushed his lips. “At the very least, he's patient. Enough to put up with you."

  Blake snickered and inclined his head, granting that point to Daniel. But if this was a game... “He's a great lover, too,” he said, tongue in cheek. “Lovely dick. Thick and—"

  Daniel's strangled cough stopped him short. “That,” he said with a slight grimace, “I don't need to know about. I'm sure you keep him busy enough."

  "That, I do.” Blake grinned, and decided that he might as well deliver the killing blow. Daniel would know soon enough. Gossip ran through the base like wildfire. “Although I should say, Kate and I do."

  Very slowly, Daniel blinked. Then he stared at Blake. A vein started pulsing on Daniel's forehead. Blake had seen other soldiers cower in front of this look, but it had never impressed him all that much.

  "Kate...” Daniel said, but cut himself with a shake of his head. “I don't need to know about that, either. I don't want to know."

  Satisfied that he had unnerved him enough, Blake relented. “What do you want to know, then?"

  For an instant, Daniel looked at him as though expecting more unsettling news, and Blake was sure he would just leave. But Daniel took a deep breath and asked, “Did you ask him, or did he turn you of his own accord?"

  A small smile tugged at Blake's lips at the memory. He remembered it as if it had only been yesterday. Marc had been a pain about the whole thing, claiming Blake needed to understand what he was asking before Marc would even consider it. “I asked him,” he said, serious now. “But he wouldn't have done it just for that. We already had a relationship."

  A small frown creased Daniel's forehead at the word ‘relationship.’ That had clearly not been what he had hoped to hear. “Do you think if I asked him—?"

  With a slight shake of his head, Blake stopped him in his tracks. “Daniel? Honestly, I don't know. To the best of my knowledge, I'm the only Childe he has ever sired. I couldn't tell you if he ever considered making more.” He shrugged. “Why don't you just ask him? The worst he can do is say no.” He couldn't help himself then, and let a devious smile push to his lips. “And if he does, you've still got me."

  Daniel laughed, a full belly laugh that made the soldiers training at the other end of the room look toward them in surprise.

  "You as my Sire?” he said as he calmed down. “I'm not masochistic. No. Thank you, but no."

  He started laughing again, and this time Blake joined him.

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  Chapter 4

  The strands of light that floated above the bed were no brighter than distant stars when Marc woke up. Kate was draped across his body, a living and breathing blanket, but she didn't feel as warm as she had earlier. She even shuddered against him, and beneath his hand on her back, her skin was covered in goosebumps. Trying not to wake her, Marc reached for the sheet that covered little more than their legs and drew it up. She moved against him at the small movement, and he could feel her eyelashes fluttering against his chest. He rubbed her back slowly, wishing he had heat to offer to warm her up.

  "Not too cold?” he murmured.

  She rubbed her cheek against his chest, and it took him an instant to realize it was a silent no. “I'm all right,” she said in a yawn, then raised her head to look at him. She was grinning, and Marc smiled back without hesitation.

  "More than all right, in fact,” she added and kissed him lightly.

  Marc let out a quiet breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Part of him had been a little afraid that, waking up beside him, she would decide it had all been a mistake.

  "Are you spending the night?” she asked softly, and it sounded like an invitation.

  "That would be really nice.” He caressed her cheek, brushing back the hair that had come loose from her braid behind her ear. “But I think I should go back to my room."

  Her brow furrowed, her lips already parting for a question he could guess all too well. He traced her lips with his thumb.

  "If I spend the night,” he said, a chuckle barely hidden behind his words, “Blake will be here at the first morning light, and this bed is much too small for the three of us."

  She snorted softly and gave him a small eye roll. “Good point. Are the beds in your room any bigger?"

  He blinked in surprise, taken aback. Before he could reply—their beds were indeed larger, though they might still be a tight fit for three—she shook her head. Her smile took an embarrassed turn, and she ducked her head a little.

  "I'm not saying... I mean, I don't want—"

  He silenced her with a soft, chaste kiss.

  "You don't have to explain yourself,” he murmured. “Whatever we do, or not, is entirely up to you."

  She nodded, and there was a gleam in her eyes that looked just a little like gratitude.

  "Then I guess we're saying goodbye?"

  Goodbyes, as it turned out, took a little while, and it was close to an hour later that Marc swiped his key card and entered his and Blake's room. It was dark, but Marc could see quite well without light; being a vampire had its perks.

  His bed was waiting on the far side of the room, but it didn't feel right to go to it. Instead, he toed off his shoes, which he hadn't bothered tying up again, quickly undressed, and laid down behind Blake on the other bed: the one they shared, most days, when Blake wasn't with Kate. He curled his arm around Blake's waist, intending to do nothing more than sleep, but the gentle contact woke Blake, and he turned around to face Marc.

  "Mmm...” Blake closed the small
distance between them and pressed his face to the crook of Marc's neck. “You smell like her. Nice."

  Marc chuckled, at the same time embarrassed and relieved. He had expected that Blake would demand details, but he had also been worried that Blake's jealous streak might resurface when it was too late to stop things any longer.

  "Wonder if you taste like her, too,” Blake mumbled, and started licking a slow path down Marc's torso.

  Marc gripped Blake's shoulder, his first instinct being to stop him, but somehow he couldn't come up with a good reason why he should. Besides, it was Blake. If Marc stopped him now, he'd be downright impossible to live with until he had his way.

  "Did you go down on her?” Blake asked, the words sliding against the skin beneath Marc's navel like a caress.

  Marc gave a noncommittal noise. Maybe Blake didn't mind offering blow-by-blow renderings of his time with Kate, but Marc didn't care to do the same.

  "Bet you did,” Blake said and licked a stripe up the length of Marc's hardening cock. “Bet you couldn't wait to get a nice good taste of—"

  Marc's hand slid from Blake's shoulder to his hair. He tightened his fingers in the short strands hard enough to draw a pained grunt from Blake as he pulled his head up. Marc knew his eyes were glowing as he stared down at his Childe; Blake's eyes gleamed right back.

  "Why don't you stop with the color commentary,” he said, the words rumbling out of him like distant thunder, “and put your mouth to better use instead?"

  Blake snickered before returning to his task, and Marc was sure he knew what that sound meant: if Marc wouldn't share, there was still someone else Blake could—and would—question. Whether Kate answered was up to her; Marc didn't mind, one way or the other. He just wasn't one for storytelling himself.

  "Fuck, Blake!"

  His hips bucked clear off the bed, pushing his cock deep into Blake's mouth. Blake laughed around him, and Marc could feel the fangs pressing in on either side of his cock.