Midnight's Kiss

Five

After what seemed a hellish eternity, the whistle sounded.

Melly had moved to crouch in her corner, behind the cot, where she rocked with her hands cupped over her ears, but even though it muffled the sounds somewhat, the whistle still penetrated. Pushing to her feet, she turned to watch the crowd of ferals.

This time, they were slow to respond. The whistle sounded again, sharp and piercing, and something cracked the air. It sounded like a whip.

Growling, the ferals retreated. As Justine appeared, Melly realized the other woman actually did have a whip. Once again, Justine cracked the whip across the ferals nearest to her, and they cowered away.

If Justine had really been the one to create the ferals, Melly could almost feel sorry for them.

Almost.

That was until she looked across to Julian’s cell and sickened rage replaced all other emotion.

He hung limp in the chains, his head hanging forward and his powerful body bloody and lax. Wiping at her wet cheeks, she said, Julian? Please say something.

He didn’t answer.

Her eyes kept watering and obscuring her vision. He couldn’t be dead. If he were dead, he would collapse into dust. There would be nothing left of him at all. Nobody to rage against. Nothing but the memory of the brief, bright warmth they had shared followed by years of bitterness.

Unable to maintain any anger toward him in the face of this horrible nightmare, she was left feeling a sharp pain and a sadness so dark it threatened to engulf her.

Justine and Vampyre Guy followed the ferals down the tunnel, and the sound of an iron clang rang against the stony walls. Moments later, they reappeared. They must have shut the gate to the tunnel again.

Fixing her gaze on Julian, Justine said to Vampyre Guy, “Clean up this mess.”

Ducking his head, he got to work, packing up the laptop and various items.

As Justine went into Julian’s cell, Melly said hoarsely, “Haven’t you done enough for one visit?”

“Maybe I have. Maybe not.”

“Leave him alone!”

Justine lifted Julian’s head to look into his unconscious face. She let his head fall again. “Oh, very well. They drained him pretty deeply. He’ll need time to recover enough so I can do it again.”

In that moment, Melly had never hated anybody as much as she hated Justine.

She forced herself to take deep, even breaths and think more or less logically. The torture session was over, at least for now, and the sooner Justine and Vampyre Guy left, the sooner she could pick her way out of her own cell and help Julian.

But she was feeling shaky from lack of proper food, too much stress and not enough rest. How much blood could she give Julian when she was like this? While she did have a little of her food stash left, a candy bar and the small bag of nuts, this situation was desperately unstable, and she needed to hold on to as many of her meager resources as she could.

She said, “If you’re going to keep me alive, I’m going to need more food and water.”

Justine stepped out of Julian’s cell, locked the door and swiveled to consider her. “I had forgotten about that. You have a point.” As she paused thoughtfully, Melly held her breath. “And no, I don’t want to get rid of you just yet. Not only have you proved useful for making Julian toe the line, but keeping you alive might prove useful in other ways as well.”

What other ways? Melly’s mind clicked into overdrive. Could Justine be planning on somehow using her against her mother?

Justine turned to Vampyre Guy. “Once you get this cleared up, see that you bring her more food and water.”

“Real food,” Melly interjected. “Not that useless gas station crap you brought the last time. And I need more batteries for the flashlight.”

Raising one eyebrow, Justine gave her a sardonic look. “Listen to you, getting all demanding.”

Lifting her chin, Melly stared back unwaveringly. “Do you want me alive or not? If you do, I need real food and water, not a candy bar here and there. And you know as well as I do that I don’t need the flashlight to survive, but I would appreciate it. Please.”

A long moment passed as the Vampyre considered her with a cold, assessing gaze. Then Justine smiled. “A ‘please,’ no less. It didn’t take long for you to learn how to sit up and beg. Maybe you’re not quite as stupid as I thought. Or at least you’re trainable.” She said to Vampyre Guy, “I think it will be so touching if she and Julian can gaze at each other from their prison cells. Be sure to bring her real food, water and more batteries. You and I have a lot to do, so make sure she has enough to last her for a couple of days. I’m not sure when we’ll make it back down here.”

“Yes, mistress,” said Vampyre Guy.

“The dogs are sated for now, but Julian’s blood will have made them faster and stronger,” Justine told him. “Be careful when you return and make sure you bring them plenty of food to keep them busy.”

So that was how she kept the feral Vampyres cooperative. As Melly thought of the people they had been feeding on when she had first discovered them, she felt sickened all over again.

Vampyre Guy glanced over his shoulder toward the gate. His eyes were wide, and he looked none too happy at the thought of returning alone. “Are you sure you won’t come back with me? They’re afraid of you, and they’re easier to manage when you’re here.”

Justine gave him an impatient look. “Grow a pair and deal with it. Right now I have more important things to do than hold your hand.”

He ducked his head. “Yes, mistress.”

Justine strode away. Down the tunnel, the iron gate creaked and clanged again. Melly listened to her footsteps recede in the distance while she watched Vampyre Guy get back to work. It didn’t take him long to finish packing up.

She glanced at Julian. He still hadn’t stirred. Stifling her worry, she leaned a shoulder against one of the bars and said to Vampyre Guy, “She’s not very nice to you, is she?”

He snapped, “She’s my sire. She doesn’t have to be nice.”

She shrugged. “I get it. She tells you what to do, and you have to do it. Still, a little appreciation would be nice, wouldn’t it? I mean, you’re clearly carrying most of the load here, aren’t you?”

Vampyre Guy gave her a scathing look. “What do you care?”

That was her cue to call on what acting skills she had. Melly turned her full attention onto him, met his gaze and gave him a slow smile. The Light Fae were a charismatic people, which was one of the reasons why they thrived so well in the entertainment industry, and Melly had more than her fair share of the attribute.

She watched him blink rapidly as the impact hit him. Yeah, she thought, I might never win no Oscars, but I still got something, babe.

She told him in a soft, sincere voice, “When I asked for more food and water, I didn’t realize it might put you in danger. I’m awfully sorry.”

With an obvious effort, he dragged his gaze away from hers. “You didn’t know,” he muttered. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Still,” she said, “It’s really good of you to get it. I — I can’t imagine how dangerous those Vampyres are, or how hard it is to deal with them.”

He jerked a shoulder as if to shrug off her words, but after a moment, he said almost grudgingly, “You’ve got to keep on your toes with them, and know how to respond if they don’t behave on command. If I didn’t have such fast reflexes and upper body strength, I wouldn’t be able to do it.”

Melly widened her eyes and let the expression turn melting — just a little. Not too much, too soon. After all, they were on opposite sides of the cell bars, and she didn’t want to lose his credulity.

She told him, “Well, I don’t know how you do it. They scare me to death. I haven’t been able to rest at all with them snarling and clawing at me between the bars. Can you leave the gate closed when you go?”

He finished collecting the gear in a pack and hoisted it onto his shoulder, picked up the camping lantern, then turned to her. “I’m supposed to let them loose in here while I’m gone, but it’s not like you can break out of your cell anyway.”

Quickly she switched her melting look into a more helpless expression as she shook her head. “No, I can’t, can I?”

He tilted his head and jerked his chin toward the direction Justine had disappeared. “I’ll lock the gate so they won’t bother you too much.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, holding out a hand toward him — again, not too much, just a brief flutter of fingers before she dropped them again.

Vampyre Guy took a step toward her. She didn’t think he was even aware of doing it. “So, I guess I’m out of the habit of buying food. Is there anything you want?”

Oh for crying out loud, now she had to go and wonder…

Is he one of Justine’s victims too, or an asshole? Or is he a victim who also happened to be an asshole? Or am I starting to suffer from a dose of Stockholm Syndrome?

The dial on her people-reading meter hovered somewhere in the uncertain zone.

“I’d kill for a chicken sandwich,” she said, giving him a small smile. “And some cheese and fruit, please. Maybe some granola? Oh, and just so you know — I didn’t mean to put down the candy you brought. The chocolate bars were really terrific. They just aren’t enough sustenance.”

Her sharp gaze picked up how he straightened under the praise.

“I can pick up more chocolate,” he said. “It’ll be a little while before I can get back. Not only do I have to go to the store, but I have to hunt down some people to throw to the wolves to keep them occupied while I come back down here.”

The utter lack of remorse or any true feeling with which Vampyre Guy said it sent her dial swinging deeply into the red. Victim or not, he was an asshole. She lost all compunction for manipulating and/or staking him if the situation called for it.

Instantly, she clamped down on her self-control and kept her expression soft and sweet.

Possibly even, dare she say it, a touch poodle-like.

“I appreciate you telling me,” she told him. “Be careful.”

He swaggered a little. “No problem. I got it covered.”

Melly’s thoughts raced. Maybe she had accomplished enough in one conversation, and maybe anything else would be pushing too far, but —

Her gaze flicked to Julian. He was still so silent as he hung limp in his chains.

They were in a hot mess. Not only that, it felt deeply unstable, like their situation might change on a whim. On her next visit, Justine might decide it wasn’t worth keeping either Melly or Julian alive, and she might kill them both.

So now was the time to push, even if Melly went too far, because they had nothing left to lose and potentially everything to gain.

And while Justine might not want anything more than Melly locked up and Julian in chains, it was possible that Vampyre Guy might want any other number of things a lot more than his current situation.

Immunity from prosecution. Money. An easy life.

Freedom from Justine?

“What’s your name?” she asked Vampyre Guy.

His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Lifting one corner of her mouth in a lopsided smile, she told him, “Because I don’t want to keep calling you Vampyre Guy.”

He paused to search her face. “Anthony.”

“Anthony,” she said. “Okay listen, Anthony. You don’t have a choice when your sire gives you a direct order, and I just want you to know, I don’t hold any of this against you. In fact, I think that’s even a viable legal defense, at least here in California, isn’t it?”

Going still, he watched her with hooded eyes and an impassive expression. “What’s your point?”

Melly raised an eyebrow. “I understand you have to do what you need to in order to survive, but while you’re running errands, you might want to think about something. Did Justine ever give you a direct order to never call the Light Fae Queen? The fabulously rich, powerful Light Fae Queen, who would be incredibly grateful for any tips leading to the rescue of her daughter?”

Anthony’s lip curled. “You think I would risk my life like that?”

While he tried to sound scoffing, Melly’s people-reading meter said he ended up sounding uncertain instead.

“You have a rare opportunity right now,” she told him. “Not many people get a chance like this in their lifetime. You could ask for anything, and my mom would gladly give it to you. The sky is the limit. One quick phone call from you, and this could all be over in a matter of hours. She could protect you from Justine, give you legal immunity and make you rich.”

“You want me to betray my sire,” he whispered. “My very dangerous sire.”

“You know, my mom is really dangerous too,” she pointed out. “Not only is she wealthy, but she also has strong political ties all over the world, especially with the Demonkind. She has her own private army, access to the best magical users, and I’m pretty sure she might have invented the word vendetta. I guarantee you — she’s never going to give up trying to find out what happened to me. And the more time that passes, the greater the chances are that Justine’s going to slip up and give something away. Either that or my mom will uncover evidence that will lead to her.”

The problem was, of course, that Melly and Julian might not be alive when that happened.

From Anthony’s expression, it was clear he hadn’t thought of that. His eyes narrowed quickly on her.

She tried out another small smile on him. “On the flip side of the coin, right now, anything you ask for is yours if you want it. But if you do want to make that call, my mom will need time to act. You need to call her sometime when Justine isn’t expecting to see you for a few hours. She can’t get the opportunity to ask you what you’ve been doing, because you would have to tell her.”

Anthony frowned and rubbed his mouth.

After a brief pause to let what she had said sink in, Melly shrugged and said, “For instance, you could walk out of here right now and make the call. Otherwise you’ll have to wait for another window of opportunity.” She met his gaze and held it. “Do you want her number?”

He jerked back and strode away. “I’m done listening to you. I got shit to do.”

Dammit! She almost had him!

She called after his retreating figure, “Think about it, Anthony. You may not get very many chances.”

The Vampyre didn’t reply. As he took the lantern with him, the light faded.

She wasn’t ready to go back into the deep well of blackness that existed in the tunnels without any light source. Darting to her nest, she dug out her flashlight and turned it on. After having gotten used to the greater illumination from the lantern, her small flashlight’s thin, cold beam of light seemed terribly fragile, and all the surrounding shadows felt dense and heavy with an unseen malice.

Shoulders sagging, she listened as the gate opened and closed, and his footsteps faded into silence.

Out of the darkness came Julian’s voice. He sounded ragged and more gravelly than ever. “I forgot how you could talk up a bitch when you wanted. I thought he was going to go for it.”

Gladness and relief speared through her. She swung the flashlight beam around and trained it toward Julian. The illumination barely reached him. He still sagged in his chains, his head drooping, but the weak light caught and glimmered in his eyes.

“Julian,” she whispered. “I am so sorry about what happened…”

He must have shut his eyes, because that brief hint of a glimmer disappeared. He said, “How many times do I have to tell you to shut up?”

The words were as hostile as ever, but he sounded so unutterably weary as he said them. The combination twisted inside of her, until she felt angry and tearful at once.

Sniffing, she turned back to her nest and rummaged for the bag of nuts and the candy bar. While hoarding sounded good in theory, sometimes you just had to eat a little chocolate.

After swallowing a couple of mouthfuls, just enough calories to pick up her flagging energy, she forced herself to set the rest aside. While Anthony was supposed to bring more food, she couldn’t trust anything good happening in this hellhole until she saw it for herself.

When she got to her feet again, she tucked her stake into the waist of her slacks at the small of her back and began to sweep the flashlight back and forth over the floor in a steady pattern.

After a moment, Julian asked, “What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for something.” A small, gold metallic gleam caught her eye. It was the piece of hairpin that had bent in the lock earlier. She darted forward to pick it up and examine it.

The small slender piece had bent so sharply in the middle, it was almost at a ninety-degree angle. The hairpins were made out of cheap, soft metal, and she knew from experience that if she tried to bend it back into place, it would probably break.

Still, there might come a use for it. She slipped it into her hand and made a fist with one end of the pin poking between two fingers. If nothing else, it could add some damage if she threw a punch. If she aimed well enough, she could even possibly put out an eye with it.

Shoving it into her pocket, she turned her attention to the cell door, stuck the end of the flashlight between her teeth and pulled out her makeshift lock picks.

“What on earth are you doing now?” He sounded as grumpy as a bear with a sore head.

“I’m coming to rescue you, so you might want to dial your rudeness down a notch or two.”

When the lock turned, she opened the door of her cell and walked out.

As Julian watched Melly pick the lock on his cell door, his emotions were almost indescribable. Not only was she alive, which was a miracle all on it’s own, but she also looked relatively unscathed.

The cut on her neck had already crusted over. Her face was smudged with either dirt or bruises, and there were more bruises on the tawny skin of her arms. Something — or someone — had raked her forearm, but it looked like the wounds had scabbed over. That was all the damage he could detect. She even sounded more or less calm.

She had pulled her tangled hair back into a braid. He had almost forgotten how she could do that. Her hair was curly enough that it could stay in a braid without a tie for at least an hour, if it wasn’t disturbed, but when they had been together, he had rarely been able to leave her alone for long enough to let that happen.

The relief that overcame him was more intense than any other emotion he had felt in a very long time. He said hoarsely, “What are you using to pick the locks?”

She spoke around the butt of the flashlight she held between her teeth, and while the words were a bit distorted, they were also easily understandable. “Pieces of a hairpin.”

A rusty, ragged sound came out of him like a cough, making the open wounds all over his body throb. With surprise, he recognized the sound. It was a laugh. “That might be the first mistake Justine has made since she took you.”

Melly glanced at him, large eyes flashing, and then she focused on her work again. “Well, she got most of them, but they weren’t handling me all that gently at the time, and a few slipped into my bra.” She raised her eyebrows, and somehow, despite the flashlight between her teeth, managed to look quite regal. “I chose not to inform them of that fact.”

They had manhandled her. Rage exploded in a supernova, but he didn’t have the reserves to sustain it. As fast as it hit, it dissipated into a dull red glow. “Like I said, stupid of them.”

She finished picking the lock, and pushed the door open while she took the flashlight out of her mouth. “I find it useful when people underestimate me.”

Exhausted and in pain, he closed his eyes to avoid looking at her as she walked toward him. Disheveled as she was, she looked too beautiful, and his insides were in a riotous mess. Gladness, relief and anger — the old anger at Melly, and the new, hot rage at Justine — and something else that lay twisted into a knot deep in his heart. He chose not to examine that last bit too closely.

“Not a mistake I’d ever make with you,” he heard himself saying. “I’d have done a body cavity search.”

“Same old suave Julian. I never know when you’re flirting.” Her reply was acerbic, but her hands were gentle as she touched the wounds on his chest. Her intake of breath was all too audible in the dense silence. When she spoke next, her voice had turned small and tense. “Gods. They didn’t just bite you. They tore at you, and you haven’t healed.”

“Too much blood loss,” he muttered.

“Here.” Something warm and soft nudged his lips. It smelled like her.

He opened his eyes.

She held her wrist to his mouth, her expression warm and concerned. While she was tall for a woman, because of the difference in their heights, she had to stand very close to him to hold her arm up at the correct angle to reach his mouth.

He could feel the heat from her body against his bruised and torn skin, and her scent twined around him in an invisible embrace.

He hadn’t been so physically close to her since the last time they were together. Always afterward, whenever they had to see and interact with each other in public, he had kept at least a few feet of distance between them.

The sight, scent and sensation of her closeness pierced through him, right into the tangled knot lying deep in his heart. Sharp, raw pain flared up, as bewildered and jagged as it had been the day he had been given evidence of her infidelity, incontrovertible evidence that made a lie of every sincere-seeming glance from her, every affectionate gesture or quietly whispered words of love.

Reflexively he jerked his head away.

Silence stretched taut between them, so heavy and complete he could count the beats of her heart.

She said in a tight, brittle voice, “You have to feed, even if it’s from me. If you don’t, you won’t heal. You’ll stay weak, and that won’t get either of us out of here.”

He looked at her. Her expression had turned pinched, and her eyes glittered.

Much as he didn’t want to bite her, she was right. “You startled me, that’s all,” he growled. “Come on, let’s get it over with.”

The curve of her full mouth drew tight, but she held her wrist up to his mouth again.

He didn’t want to drink. He didn’t want to need her in any way. Reluctantly, he forced his fangs to descend.

No matter how he tried, he could never let go of his anger at her. He could forget about it, sometimes for months at a time, but whenever he was confronted with the reality of her again, it all surged back in a hot, violent whirlpool that swept over his mind and clouded his thinking. Sometimes he wondered if he would ever be able to let it go. He was a mean, unforgiving bastard at the best of times.

But as angry as he was, he couldn’t strike at her. Instead, he put his mouth against the tender flesh of her inner wrist and eased into the bite as gently as he could. As his fangs pierced her delicate skin, her fingers curled tight and the tiny intake of breath was clearly audible in the tomb-like silence.

Instinctively he paused, giving her the chance to adjust to the bite. There was etiquette to this sort of thing. At first the pain would be sharp, like an IV needle, but the properties in his saliva would ease that away within moments. Civilized Vampyres only began to draw from a bite once their participant began to feel pleasure.

In pain and as depleted as he was, he adamantly refused to allow Justine’s abuses to drive him into behaving like the animals that had fed from him. So he waited until her fingers relaxed, unfurling like shy, slender flower petals. Only then did he begin to suck.

The rich, warm tang of her blood flowed into his mouth.

Good Christ. He had thought he’d braced himself for the impact of her taste, but he hadn’t. He couldn’t. There was no way to brace for this.

Like the differences between types of wine and different wineries, each person’s blood carried a taste that was unique to them.

Nothing else in the entire world tasted like Melisande. Nothing.

Before he had become a Vampyre, he had lived a rugged life in the Roman army. He had been almost constantly outdoors in all types of weather, yet that brief human experience had occurred two thousand years ago.

He had long since forgotten what warm sunlight felt like on his face, yet the warmth in Melly’s blood reminded him. Like her smile, it was infectious. It stole into him and pushed back the icy darkness that had begun to take him over.

Her blood was unbelievably rich with the magic that came with her heritage, along with an ability she had never bothered to cultivate. She had never cared about any inherent magical talent and preferred to explore her other talents and attributes, but he could taste all of it on his tongue.

She tasted like home and hot sex, like laughter and intimacy.

She tasted like realization.

Before her, he hadn’t known that he had been slowly expiring of thirst over the centuries. No matter how many people he tasted or how many lovers he had taken, he had been dying inside. Dying. Then she had lit everything up inside of him — only to snatch it all away again, leaving him bereft and alone as he approached the midnight of his life.

As he drew on her, he made a sound at the back of his throat, and she echoed it softly. Endorphins flooded her blood, and as he drank, her pleasure became his.

It was every bit as powerful as the first time the night of the Masque, when he had taken what a tipsy, mischievous goddess had offered him. The same kind of shock, the same intensity of connection.

Memory became entwined with the present.

Then, at the Masque, her breath had hissed in a sexy little catch, and she swayed as he sucked so gently at her delicate skin. Still feeding and hungry to feel her curvaceous body against his, he pulled her into his arms, and she came readily to nestle against him, the curve of her pelvis rubbing against his erection. Astonished intoxication bolted through him.

Her arousal fed his arousal, and his fed hers. The silken material of her white halter dress slipped under his calloused fingers, and when he forced himself to pull away from her wrist, he stared beyond the golden, elegant mask of a lioness into her wide, dilated green eyes and knew that his life would never be the same.

Now, the gift she gave him was necessary for life, and yet somehow crueler than any wound the ferals had inflicted on him. The Power in her blood slammed into him, and if he hadn’t been chained in place, he might have fallen.

His body and his soul were so parched. He never knew he could be so hungry for another person — physically, emotionally hungry — and it had nothing to do with him drinking her blood and everything to do with how he needed to climb on top of her, sink into her soft, welcoming body, and feel her legs clasp him around his hips in welcome just like she used to.

Physically, strength and vitality flowed into him. His wounds closed over and healed seamlessly. Like that first time at the Masque, he needed to put his arms around her, but couldn’t. Frustrated, he moved restlessly as much as his chains would allow.

She made another sound that was purely sexual, husky and needy, and the warmth of her body nestled against him. The soft curve of her breasts pressed against his bare chest, and her hips brushed against his painfully hardened cock.

Her heart rate picked up. He could taste her arousal on his tongue, scent it on the air.

The ravenous hunter in him took fierce note. All the signs were there. She could be his for the taking, all his again.

At least for a while, until their separate lifestyles pulled them apart.

Or until she chose to cheat again.