Night Runner: Falling From The Light Part 11

She moaned, her eyes flaming, her lips peeling back from her fangs. Heart pounding, I tried to pry her fingers off my arm.

Malcolm's power flooded the room, pressing against me and having a bizarre effect on the vampiress. She whined and her head started sweeping back and forth freakishly fast. Fighting her hunger or fighting his command. I held as still as I could, not wanting to provoke her in any way as Malcolm exerted his will over her. Except my heart was pounding wildly, and her fingers were matching the beat as they squeezed my arm.

Physically, I couldn't hope to break away from her, but she was already weak. Her energy felt cracked. I opened to it, almost swiveling toward her as I aligned and caught hold. And then I pulled with all my strength. Cold crept into me, thin and brittle. Her eyes flashed before rolling back. She dropped against the coffee table, then listed to the side.

Malcolm caught me around the waist and jerked me upright. The male vampires scrambled away as he dragged me out the door.

"Hold on, hold on. Hold the h.e.l.l on!" I was able to get my feet under me when he finally slowed halfway down the hall. "Thank you. Jesus. She didn't bite me."

"You shouldn't have been that close to her." His fangs pressed furrows into his lower lip and the light in his eyes fluctuated chaotically. "Bronson's soldiers do not listen and they cannot. f.u.c.king. Control. Themselves."

"This isn't the first thing they've done?" I asked. "Have they hurt anyone?"

He shook his head, but it wasn't an answer. "Away from Bronson, away from someone more powerful exerting control, they're like children. You shouldn't be near them."

"Hey." I touched his cheek and tried to smile even though my nerves were shot and the cold of Vesta's stolen energy had me s.h.i.+vering. "I'm fine."

His gaze fixed on a point in the distance and his big body was still except for the hands roaming roughly over me. He probably meant it to be rea.s.suring, but that touch and the solidity of his closeness was a specific kind of catalyst.

"I'm sure Chev wouldn't want you bleeding in her hallway," I said, though he appeared healed. "Let's go to my room and get you cleaned up."

"Give me a moment."

"Come on," I murmured, letting his touch press me into him. "Let's go. You can play the patient and I'll play the really helpful nurse."

He edged me back until my heel b.u.mped the wall. His eyes closed, but light leaked from beneath his lashes. His tongue flicked out to stroke a fang through its partial descent and my pulse began to throb lower.

"I'd rather you didn't tease right now." His voice was a rough warning.

It was impossible to be calm when he was so close, powerful, and hard, and all fired up. Unlike Bronson's suckers, Malcolm knew a lot about control. h.e.l.l, sometimes when we were together it felt like he was so concerned with what he shouldn't do that he wasn't fully present for what we were actually doing. It was enough to give a girl a complex. Or make her reckless.

"Or what?" I asked, turning so that my hip slid across his front. His eyes snapped open and his hands closed around my waist, stopping me. I didn't want him elsewhere. I wanted him wholly focused. I wanted him to prove to me that the conversations he might have in front of me with his s.h.i.+tty friends truly didn't matter.

"Sydney." It was little more than a growl, but it was honest. Not a game, not for show.

I raised my face toward him and ran my tongue along my teeth. "Yes?"

We were at my door in a matter of seconds. My s.h.i.+rt was halfway over my head when Malcolm said, "Go." For a stunned instant I thought he was talking to me. Until Thurston brushed past us and out the door. And then I was on my back on the cold gla.s.s table, the spine of a book digging into my ribs as Malcolm pressed openmouthed kisses to my chest, my stomach.

I got my s.h.i.+rt the rest of the way off and sat up, colliding with him. His mouth closed over mine, hot and demanding, and I slid forward on the table until we were molded together. My tongue slicked along his fang and he drew back with a hiss.

The room was nearly dark. A lone candle burned in the corner and reflected off the picture frames. His hair was mussed, his lips red and swollen, and he was very, very present.

"Do not push me right now." Despite the words, it sounded more like a request than a command. He was tense all over, the tendons in his neck standing out. But he wasn't touching me, and that wasn't acceptable.

"Would it help if I avoided the fangs?"

He nodded, relaxing a fraction, and took a step back. I smiled, then unb.u.t.toned his pants and slid off the table to my knees.

"Syd."

"I'm nowhere near your fangs." His pants caught on his erection before falling. I wrapped my hand around him, but the second my tongue touched him, his hand caught in my hair.

"Be careful," I murmured against the heat of his skin. "My hairdresser was good, but the extensions aren't all that well attached."

"You're still teasing." He swallowed hard, his expression raw.

"I think you can handle it." I shrugged, then took him into my mouth. Digging my nails into the backs of his thighs, I urged him forward. He was still a man-despite the change-and he'd been fired up before we'd gotten to the room. I teased and coaxed, wanting to bring him to an edge I'd only glimpsed.

His hips bucked, thrusting him deep, and we moaned at the same time. And then he was lifting me, tearing my clothes away and tossing me onto the couch. Slapping a hand against the wall, I pushed myself upright, only to have him crash against me, caging me against the back of the couch. I parted my legs and flinched when his fingers dug into my shoulder, then cried out as he entered me. Held tight by the pin of his hand and the arm around my waist, I couldn't arch against him, couldn't grind back. Couldn't get to any more of him.

He held me still, teasing with a shallow rocking motion that would have been sweet if it hadn't been a devilish act of revenge. I swore at him and, when that didn't work, s.h.i.+fted my legs wider and tilted my hips, showing him how welcome he was.

"Sydney." He breathed my name, driving deeper until he found an angle that melted me. I tumbled into climax, clawing at the back of the couch just to keep from collapsing. He stilled for a moment while I tried to remember how breathing worked.

Then his hand left my shoulder to slide across my throat and urge me upright. His other hand slid down my front and between my legs, and I gasped as his fingers pressed and swirled.

"Tell me you want this," he whispered, influence brightening his words. His voice was pure hunger, as if he was desperate to hear me say it.

"I want this. I want you."

His hand slid around until his forearm was pressed against my throat, and he bit into his wrist. I winced when I heard it, s.h.i.+vered when hot drops of blood fell on my shoulder. Mal's rhythm changed, his fingers moving more insistently, and I came again as he drove hard. I dropped onto my elbows, gasping for air.

"Done so soon?" Mal whispered against my ear. Wicked, wicked male.

"I need a sec. My legs are trembling. Or quivering. Or maybe the quivers are shuddering. There's just...all kinds of sensitive going on."

He laughed. Then he flipped me over and pulled me to the edge of the couch. His c.o.c.k pressed against me. I screamed hoa.r.s.ely and he stopped, giving me a moment to adjust, which mostly consisted of writhing and swearing, then reaching up to pull him closer.

His tongue glided along the pulse at my throat as he sank into me, excruciatingly slow. My mouth fell open, only to be filled with his kiss.

Chapter Nine.

"Is it weird that I want a cigarette even though I don't smoke?" I asked. From where he rested his head on my bare stomach, Malcolm smiled. His eyes were closed, but shallow lines fanned out around them and I traced them with my fingers.

"Shall I call room service for you?"

"Yeah, but you have to get the door. I'm too weak to put clothes on."

His smile widened. "Perfect."

"You're diabolical."

"That's not what you were screaming an hour ago. I believe your exact words were 'give me more or I'm going to punch you right in that beautiful-'"

"I was quoting something. It was an after-school special, or p.o.r.n. I can't remember which." I squirmed away from his fingers when they found a ticklish spot behind my knee. "Did you see that dust storm?"

"From a distance. It was hazy where we were, cloudy. Those burns would have been worse if it hadn't been."

"That's lucky, I guess." And there went my lazy euphoria.

He disappeared from the bed, moving like tracers in my vision. He didn't do that in front of me unless we were in a dire situation or he'd forgotten himself. I sat up and pulled the sheet to my chest.

He landed on the bed again a moment later, a robe hanging loosely from his shoulders, a bottle of cold water in his hand. I took it.

"Did you discover something else?"

He nodded. "The others went South to scope out a couple of houses. They weren't supposed to go in until Sora and I got there. You saw the results of them ignoring that direction. We were double-checking a couple of the haunts Abel had occupied here, to see if he'd circled back. Someone had been to one of them but we don't believe it was Abel. There were several people, and at least two humans among them. They were gone when we arrived."

I uncapped the water and took a swig. "There've been vampires out in the city, soliciting some of the feeders from here. Do you think that Abel's hooked up with them?"

Malcolm ran his fingers along my eyebrow to my temple, then down along my jaw.

"He wouldn't do so unless he considered it advantageous."

"But they were at one of his places? Could they have stumbled upon it by accident?"

"It's too much of a coincidence. Those vampires, Abel would consider them soft. They're basically refugees, not fighters. He'd have no use for them."

"Unless his strategy has changed. He tried to pledge himself to Bronson. That didn't work. Then he was part of an attack. That also failed. What other tactics would he resort to?"

"The Vasilievs sent brutal messages to Bronson, thinking they would scare him into giving in." Mal's hand fell away and his energy drew tight around him. "When they got Lucille, something changed in the Master. There was no more negotiation, and there was no mercy in what Bronson had us do to them. In the end, they took the fighting to the streets because, if humans were watching, their deaths would be quicker. Abel's hive wasn't just defeated. It was torn apart."

Mal was hard when he'd come to find me in Hawaii. Cold. I'd been afraid of him until he'd touched me, so carefully. And now I felt like we were coming into balance with each other. At least, I hoped. Except, every time we made progress, something new and terrible showed up.

"Is he aligning with these refugees in the hopes of finding mercy?"

"Bronson won't forget who he is, no matter who he surrounds himself with."

"This group is really pro-human, right? Abel isn't exactly adept at dealing with us." I played with the plastic ring around the neck of the water bottle. "Bronson needs his people to be able to appear sociable to humans, especially after what happened in Alaska. Maybe Abel is trying to reinvent himself in the image of these refugees. To make himself appear to be a contender in Bronson's current regime."

"Maybe. Plus he'd have a few allies. Whatever he's doing, I don't like it, Syd. He's too close. I want you to leave. You've done what Bronson asked. Go back to Alaska where Abel won't dare to go. Until this is over."

"I don't think Bronson will consider my favor completed. I said in my letter that there were traces of vampire in that lab, and that guy Bill-"

"I will deal with his disappointment."

My rising protest must have shown on my face because Mal made a frustrated noise and reached for me. The knock on the door made me jump, but the energy surrounding our visitor was familiar.

"Soraya," we said at the same time.

I rolled out of bed and into the bathroom while he went to answer the door. I ached sweetly, though the couch burn on my knees left something to be desired. Showering as fast as I could, I came out to find Malcolm dressed, his hair damp. He'd used Mickey's shower. She'd squeal when I told her.

Soraya was also there, which wasn't going to make anyone squeal except maybe out of fright. Her arms were crossed over a fitted black tank top and, while her expression was blank, her eyes were bright with orange light.

"He was explicit," she said. Mal paced the room, hands on his hips.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Master Bronson's directive," she said without looking at me.

"He should be dead," Malcolm snapped. The pictures on the wall nearest him vibrated.

"Wait, who?" I asked.

"Abel. But Bronson believes that there are cells of Vasiliev soldiers in Alaska," Soraya said. "He believes Abel knows where they are."

"Wouldn't that make Abel his enemy?" I asked.

"Not if he has useful information about them rather than allegiance to them." Mal turned, pinching the back of his neck. "Bronson's paranoid, nothing more."

"He's insistent, which is the only thing we need to be thinking about," Soraya replied, glancing pointedly at me. I returned her look with a scowl.

"Then let's move the clock up on this. Stop following and call him out. We'll lay an invitation in Bronson's name, specifying that he is welcome for a set appointment only. If he doesn't come, we hunt him down. What do you think, Syd?"

When Mal's attention turned to me, Soraya left. She moved silently, but the slap of her energy made it feel like she was storming out.

"I'm trying not to think about it." Being surrounded by vampires within the confines of Chev's rules was one thing. Inviting that particular one was something else entirely. I s.h.i.+vered. "I'm going to try to get into that test lab tomorrow, see if I can catch something stronger than what I sensed today."

"It's a wild-goose chase."

"There was something there." My hands fisted on my waist. "This isn't about doing what Bronson told me to do. It's about finding a way to stop that s.h.i.+t from spreading." And it was about s.h.i.+elding Malcolm from more of Bronson's wrath.

"After that...I'm all set with this mortal peril business. Mickey and I will head north." I leaned against him, pus.h.i.+ng back the images in my head of Abel lunging for me. "How long will this take? How long before I see you again?"

"I'll join you as soon as I can." His palms stroked my arms. I relaxed, the cold rock melting away from my stomach. "We'll go anywhere you like. We'll take some time to simply float."

"I like the sound of that. Can we go to Detroit?"

"I say anywhere in the world and you say Detroit?"

"Don't look all offended. It's the Motor City. The Automotive Hall of Fame?" I spread my hands, trying to show him how obvious the choice was. "You said anywhere."

"I'll have to think about...that." He sounded like he wanted to do no such thing.

"There's this place where you can build a Cadillac, one of those pimp seventies models."

"You want to build a car for a nonexistent pimp?"

"Oh, come on! It'll be fun. We can go to Joe Louis, home of the Red Wings. Don't tell me you've never heard of Stevie Yzerman?" My gesticulations widened when he scowled. "He made captain at twenty-one and was the greatest center in the NHL. And you know why he was great? 'Cause he sacrificed for the team. He could have been a hotshot, focused only on his... Why are you smiling like that?"