Midnight's Kiss
Page 39

Maybe that could be cathartic for both of them.
Blinking tears out of her eyes, she tossed the used rag away. Maybe now she really could let go of her bitterness, figure out a way to get over him and move on.
Of course, that was provided they managed to survive getting out of here.
How much weight, Julian wondered, should you give to an old lie?
People lied all the time, and they did it for so many reasons. Self-protection, self-gain. Often it was with the best of intentions, to avoid hurting someone else’s feelings. Hell, he lied without compunction whenever he needed to, or he spun the truth in such a way that it suited him, like he had done in the press conference about the multiple homicide on Justine’s estate.
But this wasn’t just any lie – it was a lie that had stabbed him to the core and had had a pivotal effect on his life.
And he simply didn’t know anymore how much weight he should give to it. He felt adrift, confused again. He was tired of carrying his anger around. It felt heavy, cold and poisonous.
In the meantime, Melly was here in front of him, warm and vibrant, funny, sexy and as infuriating as ever, and man, could she ever sell something. Every word she had spoken felt like the God’s honest truth.
In spite of knowing how well she could act, he still couldn’t bring himself to believe that everything she had said was a lie. Clearly, her message mattered too much to her. It showed in the fragility of her expression, the dampness in her gaze – hell, even in the tenderness with which she had washed him.
Yet she still seemed incapable of admitting that she had cheated. Was it because she couldn’t face confronting him with the truth, or because she couldn’t face the mistake she had made?
Whatever the reason, his thinking had shifted. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t admit to the truth. It was that she couldn’t look him in face and tell him.
After twenty years, you would think they could both let it go.
Maybe that’s what he needed to do… just let it go.
Rubbing his face, he looked at the food. He said, “You never ate your candy bar.”
“I couldn’t stomach the thought,” she said. “Not when you were down at the gate, fighting. I couldn’t…” Her mouth worked. “I couldn’t leave you to face them alone.”
So, tired and depleted as she was, she had come down to fight with him, and had gotten herself injured because of it. Before they had gotten trapped together here in the tunnels, he would have said she wasn’t capable of that kind of loyalty.
And he would have been dead wrong.
He had been fine with fighting the ferals on his own. After all, it was his responsibility as Nightkind King to clean them out. He hadn’t been fine with watching her stumble back from the gate, soaked in her own blood.
Snatching up a bar of chocolate, he shoved it into her hands. “Eat it now,” he told her. “As soon as you’re steady on your feet, we’re going.”
She tore the wrapper open, snapped off a square and popped it in her mouth. “Speaking of getting steady on your feet,” she said around the piece. “When we were together before, I gave enough blood to know just how little you’ve taken from me now. You’ve barely taken a thimbleful.”
“I’ve taken more than that.”
“What,” she retorted, “two thimbles full?”
He thought he saw where she was going and started to shake his head. “No, Melly.”
“Julian, you have to take more. Look at me.”
Her voice was so firm that, reluctantly, he turned to glare at her.
For some reason, that caused her features to soften, and she gave him a remarkably sweet smile. There was so much simple affection in her expression, he lost his ability to keep up the strength in his glare.
She told him, “I’ve collected quite an array of scratches and bruises. They’re colorful, but we both know I’m not badly hurt. Plus, now I have plenty of calories and hydration, which I didn’t have before. The only thing I’m really lacking is proper rest. Since I’m healthy as a horse, none of that should prevent you from taking more of my blood, whereas you haven’t healed again. You’re dangerously depleted, and we’re not out of the tunnels yet.” She paused to search his gaze. “Come on, just a little, one more time.”
It went against every instinct he had to take more blood from her when she was looking so vulnerable. He hated that she was right.
“All right,” he said. “One more time.”
She ate the last of the candy bar and downed half a bottle of water. Afterward, she turned to him and held out her wrist.
This time, when he took her hand, he didn’t lift it to his mouth. Obeying a dark impulse, he pulled her toward him until he could put his arms around her. Her smiling expression turned serious and a little wary, but she came to rest against him readily enough.
He knew he shouldn’t take from her this way. The base of the neck was an intensely sexual way to take blood, but he also knew he was going to do it anyway. Slowly, closing his eyes, he bowed his head to rest his mouth against the warm, soft skin in the hollow where her slender neck met her shoulder.
His body had a memory of this experience. How many times had they shared intimacy in just such a way? Without his conscious volition, his tight muscles relaxed, and he drew in a deep breath just so that he could inhale her scent. When her arms stole around him gently, the embrace felt like a rare, precious gift. She leaned her cheek against the side of his head.
He asked telepathically, Okay?
Yes, she whispered.
He brought his fangs down to her tender flesh and eased into the bite. The quiet hiss of her indrawn breath sounded in his ear, and he held himself rigid, waiting for her to relax. When she did, her body melted against his, and the warm, liquid evidence of her pleasure flooded his mouth.
He took sustenance from her with the greatest of care, cradling the back of her head in the palm of one hand. The pain from his wounds faded so effortlessly when he allowed himself to rely on her. Stirring, she muttered something, what, he didn’t quite catch, but the soft, breathy sound was almost unbearably sexy and went straight to his cock.
Mindful of her shoulder wound, he eased her closer, until the graceful curve of her pelvis rubbed against his stiff, aching erection.
Stroking his short hair, she whispered, “Feeling better?”
He ran the fingers of one hand down her arched spine as he murmured, “Mmhm.” Telepathically, he told her, Thank you.