‹ Prequel: To Bleed for Him

As She Fades

Disease

“I got a disease
Deep inside me,
Makes me feel uneasy, baby.
I can't live without you.
Tell me, what I am supposed to do about it?
Keep your distance from it.
Don't pay no attention to me.
I got a disease.

And, well, I think that I'm sick,
But leave me be while my world is coming down on me.
You taste like honey, honey.
Tell me, can I be your honey?
Be, be strong.
Keep telling myself that it won't take long ‘til
I'm free of my disease.”
- Matchbox Twenty

“No shower first?” Torryn panted, finally managing to disentangle her lips from Skylar’s as he fell on top of her on her bed. His bare chest was warm against her palms, the faded claw marks of a battle long past gentle indentations beneath her fingers, and she wondered where his shirt had fallen — and where hers had ended up, for that matter.

He chuckled, taking the opportunity to plant a trail of kisses along the side of her throat. “Oh, no,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the crook of her neck to send shivers racing down her spine. “The shower comes later.”

“But we’re so sweaty,” she laughingly protested, conveniently forgetting to mention that her back was coated in dried blood from the earlier reopening of her wound.

“And you think we’re not about to make it worse?” He covered her mouth with his before she could argue any further, and she began to force his already unbuttoned pants down around his knees as she leaned into the kiss. He kicked them off, the intentness of his lips pressed to hers never waning, and without lifting his hands from where they rested to either side of her on the bed, he began to guide her jeans down her legs. Little tendrils of warmth trailed behind the denim to leave a titillating tingle in their wake, and goosebumps raised along her thighs.

She drew back as her pants finally hit the floor, and he stared down at her with eyes half-lidded and longing. “Have you ever used it like this before?” she asked in a pant, his kiss and his touch having drawn her breath from her — again.

“My telekinesis?” he asked gruffly. “For sex?” She nodded, and she saw a smirk quirk his lips before he leaned down to sink his teeth into the side of her throat just hard enough to draw a gasp and a shudder from her. She felt his fingers gliding through her hair, but his hands hadn’t left the bed beside her. “It’s been a while, but yeah. I’ve played around with it before.”

“When?” she asked, and those fingers in her hair slid between her back and the bed, so gentle that she couldn’t help another small shiver. “With who?”

“I was fifteen, I think?” He kissed her jaw once, twice, thrice — but his lips were still brushing against her throat as he spoke. Damn, Skylar. Where have you been hiding all of this talent? “It was before we got to be good friends, I know that.” His teeth grazed her throat again; heat cascaded along her thighs; an immaterial set of nails raked down her back to elicit another gasp from her. “It was with my first serious girlfriend, Emily Crabtree.”

“Was she a telekinetic, too? Is that why you were able to let her know what you are?”

He lifted his head and cocked an eyebrow down at her, though humor danced behind his eyes where lust had just lingered. “Are you sure you want to talk about this right now?” She shrugged, and he guided a bit of the room’s chill-laden air over her uncovered nipples like a breath of his own. “She was a telepath, actually. Did a lot of mind-reading but wanted to focus more on mind-control.”

That doesn’t sound promising. “What happened with her?”

He averted his gaze then, pushing himself off of her to stand beside the bed. His attention was on her silky black panties as he slid them down her legs, this time using his hands. His skin was deliciously warm against hers, holding a heat only an organic being could. As fun as his telekinesis was in this situation, nothing would ever beat those hands. “She was warned not to play with her mind-control ability. She didn’t listen, and she was killed for it before we made it very far in the relationship.” He smiled to himself, bittersweet, and took his time maneuvering her underwear over her feet. “She was actually a lot like you, now that I think about it. She had a tendency to poke at the wrong people, too. Maybe that’s why I worry so much.”

She kicked her panties off so he wouldn’t have a way to avoid her anymore and hopped to her feet, and she savored the heat of his skin against hers as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m sorry about what happened to her,” she said softly, leaning up to place a gentle kiss on his lips. “But I’d like to remind you that I’ve been to hell and back already, and I’m still kicking. You don’t have to worry about me.”

He smiled, but she could see the uncertainty that lurked behind the curve of his perfect lips. “I’ll worry about you until the day I die…and then some.” She was suddenly swept up in a sea of gentle caresses from invisible hands, and he pulled her to him in a lustful kiss.

A blaze of feeling rushed between her thighs, the sharp pleasure-pain of fingernails digging into her skin rolled through her back, Skylar’s body heat sank into her front as he pulled her closer, and her knees buckled beneath the weight of the dozens of sensations that flooded her. He caught her, though, without hesitation and lay her gently on the bed. All the while, his lips never left hers, even though she was too overwhelmed to return the kiss with the passion he deserved.

The bodiless heat left her groin suddenly, only to be replaced by Skylar a heartbeat later. She groaned, the feeling of his familiar, organic warmth nearly bringing her to orgasm right then and there, and with renewed vigor, she threw her arms around him and kissed him hungrily.

She let her hands wander along the slick skin of his back as she staved off her climax. She focused on the rippling of muscles beneath his skin as he set into a rough but steady rhythm, listened to the pants and breathy moans he expelled as his head fell to rest beside hers. The carnal desire that had filled her in the ring, the violent need for this one man, reared its head once more, and on impulse, she leaned up and sank her teeth into the side of his neck. He groaned more loudly now, and she alternated between sucking on and nibbling at his throat even as ecstasy fell within reach.

“Skylar,” she gasped breathlessly, on the edge of panic as she longed for the moment to last forever, and her grip tightened on him to send her nails into his back. He arched above her, his rhythm never slowing, and looked down at her with wide blue eyes.

His lips parted, a gasp escaped, and he suddenly half-moaned, half-asked, “Torryn.” She went rigid suddenly, her nails digging in deep, and toe-curling pleasure tore through her so violently that her senses couldn’t register anything else. She vaguely recognized a gruff cry from Skylar, felt his body tense against hers, but nothing more passed through the haze of raw pleasure that veiled her mind.

When she returned to herself, the scent of blood was heavy on the air — not hers, for once — and Skylar was sprawled on top of her, damp with sweat and inferno hot. She lifted her hands from his back, and surely enough, her fingertips were covered in red. Something told her that she should feel ashamed, apologetic, but as she basked in the tendrils of fading pleasure that twisted through her body, she couldn’t bring herself to feel anything but pride and satisfaction.

She let her hands fall to rest in the sticky sea that coated his back and chuckled lowly. “I’m not sorry.”

“Good,” he panted, “’cause I’m not, either. Not for you or for me.”

She laughed lightly and shoved him off of her, and he obligingly rolled over to sprawl next to her. When she began to sit up, she cringed against the dozen tiny, sharp pains that stung along her back as the fresher blood peeled away from the sheets and tugged at her wound. She had torn the damn thing open again. Now the scent of her blood rose to mingle with the scent of his, and when he turned to curiously look at her, his eyes instantly narrowed.

“What the hell happened?” he asked in a growl, but she was too distracted by the tensing of his abs as he sat up to pay much mind to the anger in his voice. “What were you out doing before you came to the Arena?”

“Who says I didn’t get hurt in the Arena?” she asked, mostly to buy herself some time, as she returned his scowl. Jesus Christ. How the hell am I supposed to explain a two-foot-long gash that nearly severed my damn spine?

He took her shoulder and roughly twisted her body to reveal all of her back to him. “Well, I don’t quite recall taking a knife to your back in the Arena,” he snapped. “Do you?”

“I don’t think it’s any of your business when, where, or how this happened,” she said darkly, then jerked her shoulder from his tight grip and started toward the bathroom. His socked feet made no sound on the floor, but she knew he was following her.

“Damn it, Torryn. I thought you were going to stop doing stupid shit and lying about it,” he all but snarled. She didn’t respond, slipping her socks off without looking at him. “What did you do this time?” he continued from the doorway. “Throw yourself at the Lord again? Go on another run for Raphael? We told him to stop giving you jobs!”

“It wasn’t Raphael,” she said, doing her best to keep her tone even, as she stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain shut behind her. She turned on the faucet and tested the water with her hand, and the plastic curtain rustled as Skylar slipped in to stand behind her.

“Then what the hell were you doing?” he asked, but she started the shower without a word. As she straightened, water cascading over her hair and face, he caught hold of her upper arm and forced her to face him. He looked her over quickly, his eyes skimming her from head to toe and back up again, and his eyes narrowed further. “Your cheek is a little bit bruised, and your ribs. What were you doing?” She rolled her eyes and tried to turn from him, to pull her arm from his grasp, but he held fast. “Damn it, Torryn. What —”

Ramming a hand into his chest, she forced his back against the shower wall, and her lips met his in a forceful tangle. He didn’t hesitate to return the kiss, meeting her passion with ease, and he rested his hands on her hips gently, as if he hadn’t just manhandled her.

That should shut him up, she thought, pulling away from him, but the second she’d stepped back under the stream of water, he resumed his glare.

“Kiss me all you want, but I’m not going to let this go.”

With a sigh, she turned to put her back to him and tried to run her fingers through her tangled hair. Maybe, just maybe, if she pretended he wasn’t there…

-?-

Skylar lowered his gaze to Torryn’s back when she turned from him, and though the severity of her wounds and the flippancy with which she was approaching the situation grated on his nerves enough to make him want to hit something, he took a deep breath and did his best to calm down. Using a more rational approach, he observed the deep gash that ran the length of her back from shoulder to hip, the dark bruises that speckled the pale canvas with dark purples, and finally, he hazarded a guess. “Street fight?”

If the battle had been against a vampire, she’d likely have signs of an attempted or successful bite, right? That was their favorite thing about her, he thought: the taste of Progeny in her blood. Besides, he’d never come across a vampire who wielded a knife, and that laceration could only have come from a hefty blade.

And after being stripped and nearly drained by Emmeline’s coven, why in God’s name would she have gone back in for more from any vampire? He couldn’t believe that she’d be that stupid.

The tension eased from her shoulders, and she sighed guiltily. “You’re an annoyingly good guesser, you know that?” She twisted to look at him over her shoulder, her expression halfway to a pout. “After what happened last night, I’ve been a bit…restless, I guess you could say. And since I have no desire to end up at a vampire’s mercy ever again, I thought it would be better to target humans. You know, the dudes that always seem to be looking for a fight, anyway.”

She returned to her shower, and for a moment, he could only stare at the wounds that studded her back. Gingerly, he trailed his finger along the expanse of damp skin to one side of the deep gash, and he felt her tense beneath his touch. “Am I hurting you?” he murmured, pausing, but she shook her head, and he continued on. “If they were just humans, how’d they manage to do so much damage?”

“You make it sound like I’d only fight one at a time,” she answered, laughter a gentle harmony beneath the melody of her words. “I meant to get two, maybe three, involved, but somehow, I ended up against six of them, and since I couldn’t make it obvious that I’m not human…” She trailed off with a shrug, and he paused his finger’s journey back up her back.

“That’s disgusting,” he said, and the quietness with which he spoke the words belied the anger that tightened his chest.

“I can’t deny that,” she said as she glanced over her shoulder at him, wearing a devious smile that sent the rage from him in a rush, “but you know they left the fight way worse off than I did.”

He smiled to himself and slid his arms around her, pulling her injured back gently to his chest. “I’m glad,” he murmured, and as she rested a hand over his on her stomach, he pressed his lips gently into the slick side of her throat, the warmth of the water now falling over both of them. She leaned against him in spite of the undoubted sting of her wounds, reaching back to run her fingers through his dampening hair as she let out a soft sigh of contentment.

He placed another featherlight kiss on her shoulder, guiding one of his hands slowly lower. He knew he was being selfish. He knew that her wounds deserved more attention, that she needed and wanted to clean herself up, that they both had things they needed to do. But he couldn’t bring himself to care, and as he eased a single finger between her legs, he savored her soft exhalation of pleasure, the way she sagged against him, the wetness that greeted him.

Yes, he knew he was being greedy, but…

Could he ever possibly get enough of her?