Beneath a Waning Moon
Page 31

Josie smiled. “And that replacement will be you, of course. Mr. Murphy, you are an excellent plotter. Well done!”
“Thank you, Josephine.” Murphy smiled. “But I think you can call me Murphy now.”
“ARE you sure?”
Tom was talking again while she tried to seduce him. How irritating.
“I’m sure,” she said. “Kiss me.”
They’d fled to the safety of Tom’s bedchamber as soon as possible. He informed her they’d only be a few weeks in Dublin before he moved her someplace more secure with fewer humans and less temptation. He only needed to stay in Dublin long enough for her funeral and to appear properly grief stricken to anyone who might be watching.
Josie decided she wouldn’t mind being farther away from people. Even now, she could smell the lingering scent of blood filling the hallways, though all the mortal servants had fled to Murphy and Anne’s house next door. She wanted Tom to distract her. Also, she wanted to kiss him. As often as possible.
“I don’t mind,” she said again. “Kiss me.”
She groaned in pleasure when he stripped off her clothes. The feel of them, like anything to do with her senses, was rough and angry on her nerves. The lights were all doused, but she saw without effort. The room was cool and comfortable. And Tom…
He was temptation incarnate.
It had been a nonstop flood of information since she’d woken that night. Well, there had been the violent episode at the beginning, but that was already far from her mind. Someday, when she could think of something other than her own hunger, she might take the memory of Neville out and feel guilty.
But of course, she reminded herself, he had been about to shoot Tom.
Oh, Tom.
Her husband clamped his mouth down on her neck, bracing himself between her thighs as he teased her body to violent arousal.
“I’m stronger,” she gasped. “You won’t have to be so careful anymore.”
“I know.” He nipped at her skin. “Josie, can I…”
“What? You can do anything you like, Tom. Always.”
“Be careful offering gifts like that.”
“What do you want?”
“To bite you.” He captured her mouth and teased her fangs, which were deliciously sensitive.
“To drink? From me? Is that… done?”
“Yes. And then you’d bite me.”
Oh, her body liked that idea very much.
“Oh, yes, please,” she said, writhing under him. “Now, in fact. Please do that now.”
“It’s a blood tie. A bond between us.”
“Silly man. Are you hesitating for me? We’re married already.”
He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “This is permanent, Josephine. Not anything that can be broken. Not even by the Church. If I take your blood and you take mine, we’ll live in each other forever.”
Josie stroked his cheek and smiled. “Like I said, silly man, we’re already wed. I promised to love you till I die.”
“You did die.”
“No.” She kissed him and scraped her fangs over the thick muscle of his neck. “I lived. And you are my life now. My very proper monster. I love you, Tom. Forever.”
He kissed her as he took her, and Josie felt her soul slip free. She tilted her head back and bared her throat to him. His fangs pressed and sank in, claiming her on the most elemental level as he drove them both closer to release. She held on to him until he pulled back, then he bared his own throat to her, and she tasted her lover’s blood, rich with the scent of sea and salt and whiskey. She was lost in him, and he in her.
Her husband.
Her hero.
Her Tom.
Chapter Nine
TOM WOKE THAT NIGHT with a dream in his arms. His Josie, safe. Strong. Healthy. She was a revelation. She was alive.
And far from resigned to her immortality. Josie seemed to rejoice in it. But then, if it was possible any human might be born to become a vampire, it would be his Josie. Her morbid imagination existing side by side with her humor and appreciation for life was unlike any other human he’d met. She reveled in the monstrous. She delighted in the macabre.
Keeping her away from her funeral was going to be a challenge.
Tom heard a knock at the door.
Leaving her in the bed they could now share, he walked silently to the sitting room. He smelled Anne on the other side of the hall door and cracked it open.
She held out several jars of fresh blood. “Fresh from the kitchens. Tomorrow she starts getting chilled. We’ve gone through the available staff.”
“Fair enough.”
He waited, wanting to close the door but sensing she had more to say.
“He wasn’t being cruel, Tom.”
“So you say.”
“He loves you.”
“And I love her.”
She waited, lips pursed. “I know that. But he didn’t. Not till the end. Would you have done it? Would you have met the day if she’d died?”
He tilted his chin up, displaying the marks he’d not allowed her to heal. Her own claim on him, as she bore the scars from his first bite.
Anne nodded. “I see. She truly is your mate then.”
“It wasn’t a bluff. I don’t bluff. She’s it for me, Annie. Was from the moment I saw her, I think.”
Anne glanced over his shoulder. “It’s early yet. There’s no way of knowing how she’ll adapt. She could be mad, Tom.”