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“How are your burns?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Healing. Most were superficial, and while they ache, I’ll be fine. Sharah’s tegot tincture works like a charm.” As she spoke, she shifted her skirt so I could see her legs. They still looked bright pink, but she was healing up quickly. “Nerissa called,” she added.
I glanced up at her, my heart thudding. I waited for a wave of guilt, but none came. What Roz and I’d done together didn’t negate my feelings for Nerissa, just as I knew what she did with Venus the Moon Child or any other male lover wouldn’t negate her feelings for me.>“I’ll stay with her,” Chase said. “If anything happens, I’ll wake Camille and . . .” He glanced at Morio and Smoky, both of whom were sitting by her side. “And you guys.”
“I’d feel better if you had somebody in the room who could hop over to the astral without waiting. Vanzir, sleep right outside Delilah’s door, if you would. We’ll fix up a cot for you. That way Chase can alert you before he has to run all the way down to the second floor.”
“No need for a cot,” he said. “I’m fine with a sleeping bag.”
“I’ve got one in my room,” Delilah said. “It’s got a lot of padding.”
Once we had things sorted out, Bruce and Iris, both of whom had listened silently to the whole discussion, slipped away to her bedroom. Smoky gathered up Camille and carried her up to her room, followed by Morio. Delilah and Chase headed upstairs behind them, Vanzir swinging in behind.
Rozurial sat there, watching as the room emptied. After a moment, we were the only two left in the kitchen. I had hoped it would work out this way. I looked over at him. Without a word, he stood and took off his duster. He draped it over one of the chairs, then put his hat on the table.
He looked so good—not terribly tall, but dark curls draping down his back, his pale face dusky with the faintest shadow of stubble. His muscles gleamed under the black tank, and his jeans fit snugly around thighs that promised they could wrap around me like no one else’s could.
Roz opened his arms, and I walked into his embrace as he leaned down, letting his lips linger against mine, holding me firmly.
“Take me,” I whispered, wanting to wipe away the images of the dead Sabele and the ashes that had been Claudette. “Take me, carry me away from myself. Get me out of my head.”
“My pleasure,” he whispered. And he led me into the parlor.
Though Rozurial knew I was scarred, as I slipped out of my jeans and top, I wondered what he would say. Would he grimace in that polite, concerned manner that people had when they caught sight of the marks Dredge had carved into my skin? Would he still want me? I folded my jeans over the edge of the sofa and turned around, ready to get it over with if he suddenly changed his mind.
But there he was, staring at me, delight and desire playing across his face. He slowly licked his lips, a twinkle in his eye cluing me in to the fact that, oh yes—despite my scars—Rozurial was going to lay his hands on me. And I wanted his hands on me. I wanted him to touch me.
He took a step forward, then paused. “Is there anything I should know?” he said quietly. “I’ve never bedded a vampire before. And I’ve never . . . I don’t know what triggers might bring up bad memories. Tell me what I shouldn’t do. Then tell me what you want me to do.”
His restraint surprised me. The scent of his pheromones was musky and overwhelming. I wanted to race across the room and straddle him, taking him down below me. I felt for my fangs, checking to see if they were extending, but all I felt were teeth. Normal teeth. Could it be that Vanzir was right? If I slept with demons, would it help me hold back my instincts to bite? I’d kissed Roz before, and I remembered wanting to drink from him, but something had shifted—something was different.
I thought over what he said. When I was with Nerissa, she knew instinctively what to do, and her instincts were very, very good. But I’d only been with one man since Dredge, and that had been during a ritual, so this was new territory for me. Almost as new as my very first time.
“Let me be on top until I’m comfortable with you,” I said. “Don’t ever hold my hands down. I can’t let myself be bound.”
“Okay,” Roz said, gently moving another step toward me. “What about touching you? Anywhere off-limits?”
Tilting my head, I swallowed as he ran his gaze over me. “Don’t trace over where he carved his name on me. Don’t give it importance.”
And I showed him, then, where Dredge had used one intensely sharp fingernail to write his name in my flesh across my mound of Venus. He’d laughed and said, “I own you. You belong to me,” and I’d known that I’d never be free from him. The scar was eternal, and there was no way to get rid of it. If I’d been alive, perhaps plastic surgery, but it wouldn’t work on me in vampire form. Nerissa had suggested a tattoo, and I was researching the idea to see how tattoos reacted on vampires.
Roz glanced at the scar, his gaze lingering for a moment before he shook his head. “He’s dust and ashes, in the grips of his master. Nobody owns you now. No matter what scars you bear, no matter what world you walk in. You belong to yourself, Menolly. That’s one of the things I love about you. You’re a warrior. You don’t flinch. You do what you need to, and you answer to no one.”
And then he slid off his boots and drew his tank over his head. His chest gleamed with a thatch of curly dark hair running down the center, lightly dappling his abs. I had never seen him without a shirt, and his wide-set shoulders were honed, tight and rounded with muscle.
He reached for his belt buckle and shook his head when I would have helped him. “Let me undress for you.” He unbuckled the silver latch and drew the belt out of the loops, the sound of leather sliding on denim sending a shiver through me. He dropped it next to his shirt. And then his fingers were on his fly, and he unzipped, pushing his jeans down his thighs to the floor before stepping out of them.
I found myself suddenly shy. If I could have blushed, I would have, but instead, I chanced a look out of the corner of my eye. Rozurial stood there, a bodybuilder without extremes, his V-waist perfectly balancing out his shoulders and thighs, and at that tip of that delicate V, his cock stood ready, at attention, thick and throbbing. Mesmerized, my gaze climbed to meet his eyes. Passion rolled off of him with the promise of sweet honey wine on a warm night.
“It’s true what they say. Even I can feel it. No wonder men hate you.” I could see it in his eyes. Women would throw themselves at his feet, legs open, welcoming him in. And they wouldn’t regret it. “How many women have pined for you, after you left them?”
Roz shrugged. “I don’t know. I won’t lie to you. You know what I am. Over the past seven centuries I’ve had thousands of women. I’ve kissed them and fucked them and left them begging for more. I love women, Menolly,” he said softly. “All types of women. Tall, short, thin, fat, young, old . . . it doesn’t matter. I crave them. That’s what I am. That’s who I am. I have no choice; this is my nature. The only kind of women that I don’t find attractive are those who are timid, who wait for a man to make them feel whole.”
“I know. Just like . . . this is my nature.” I opened my mouth slightly and willed my fangs to unfurl. He watched, unafraid, unmoving. “I drink blood. I charm and seduce my way into feeding on my dinner. Vanzir was right; all demons are takers, aren’t they?”
“But we also give,” Roz said, and then he was standing only a few inches away, his breath soft against my skin. “Let me give to you. And you . . . I want you to give yourself to me. Let’s find out where this takes us?”
I nodded, then. He wrapped me in his arms, lifting me up, and my lips were fastened on his. I retracted my fangs and fully kissed him, my tongue sliding into his mouth as he pressed against me, his cock a rigid soldier. Roz lowered me to the ground, and the world blurred.
