Blood and Lace: Chapter 29

[ A/N - This is the bonus conclusion to Book 1 and a teaser of the dangers in store for our unusual couple. ]

Della had never reclaimed her emotions so easily. Under different circumstances it would have been a triumph. But riding next to Nicholas, after what she had done…she wanted to stay atop her metaphorical mountain. 

Mountain? She curled her lip at the scenery whipping past the passenger window. It was barely an iceberg.

Even now it was melting beneath her, dropping Della into a morass of bewildering feelings she wasn’t sure she could handle.

Why do I persist in thinking my emotions are the crux of this dilemma? I turned off my emotions and promptly acted like a beast in heat. Nicholas is the crux. 

Except she didn't think of Nicholas as a dilemma, or a mere problem to be solved…though she did want to work on him like a satisfying puzzle. Or maybe she wanted him to solve her.

A flush of unfamiliar warmth rolled through Della’s middle. She realized she was biting her lip and stopped. She rubbed her temples, only dimly aware of the turns and lessening traffic as Nicholas drove them away from the city center.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine.” 

Della wasn’t fine. The embarrassment was comparable to being trapped under Nicholas's bed, only this time she was directly involved. The way he had let her make him vulnerable…the raw sensuality of dragging her fangs across his soft skin—

Stop. You must keep your wits.

But it was worse than that single loss of control, wasn't it? Nicholas hadn't been the only one to expose a neck. How had he even known what to do? And why in the names of the gods had she let him—a human—do it? Maybe it didn't count.

“You’re not fine.”

“Nicholas…”

It wasn't as if he subscribed to the strictures of the blood. He didn't even know what they were!

But you do. And he knew enough, didn't he?

Della folded her arms, squeezing her hands into fists. She would have to tell him. Give him the information so he could—with full knowledge—undo the bond he had unknowingly sealed. It was the fastest way to fix things, but the humiliation would be…severe. She felt a furious blush at the thought; it appeared her emotions were now fully restored. Perfect.

“Listen…we…that is, I have to—”

“What’s ‘von-a-tour?’ ” Nicholas asked.

She stared at him, but his gaze remained on the road. He was exhausted, she suddenly realized, noticing the dark smudges under his eyes and the unhealthy cast of his skin for the first time. Without thinking she reached out and touched his arm.

“Are you well?” she asked.

“You’re changing the subject.”

“I mean it, Nicholas, I need to know you're all right.”

A strange expression came over his face at the same time a passing street light cast it into sharp relief. “My knee’s messed up pretty bad,” he allowed, “and I don't think there’s any adrenaline left inside me. Two fights, active surveillance, and ‘kissing practice’ have used all my reserves. Oh, and my arm still itches.” He managed to put some humor into the words, but there wasn't much energy behind it.

“I can see how tired you are. I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner.”

Now Nicholas turned to her, and she saw some of his fatigue vanish beneath a genuine smile. “Welcome back,” he said gently.

Her chest seemed to fill with the fondness of his gaze, and her answering smile came unbidden. There were, it seemed, advantages to reconnecting with one’s feelings after all.

“So here's the deal,” he said, tearing his gaze away from her, “we’re five minutes from home. It's your job to help me stay awake. So what’s ‘von-a-tour’ mean? You said it twice back there.”

“Oh…yes. Vânător. It’s from long ago. A language spoken when we possessed our own kingdom. Very close to Romanian. It’s just…” Della hesitated. “…vampire slang.”

When it was clear she wasn't going to elaborate, he made a rolling gesture with one hand. “Okay…and it means?”

“Oh. Well. It means ‘hunter.’ ”

“That’s it?” His brow furrowed. “The way you said it, I thought—”

“There are additional connotations,” she said, staring fixedly at the dashboard. Why couldn't she stop blathering? “When one of the blood says it to another, it’s a…unique compliment. It denotes admiration. The equivalent meaning might be ‘mighty hunter’ or even ‘good provider.’ ” She snapped her mouth shut. Gods, had she actually just said that? There had been no need to elaborate. Maybe he wouldn't pick up—

“Provider?”

Della mentally cursed. “Yes. Referring to the, ah, purpose of hunting.”

Nicholas was quiet for a long time. “So…survival. Hunting for survival. Provider as in…providing for family.”

“Yes,” she said through teeth that felt welded together. She ran a hand across her forehead as if checking for fever. 

“Della…is there maybe another meaning?”

She closed her eyes. “What are you fishing for, Nicholas? Do you want me to tell you it can mean, ‘attractive mate?’ ”

“Well…can it?”

Della slid her hand down until it covered her eyes. “Yes.”

She heard him breathe out slowly. How a simple act of exhalation could sound so joyous was a mystery, but she was certain that’s what he was feeling. “You’re smiling like an simpleton, aren’t you?”

“No.” 

“You are. I can hear it.”

“My face is perfectly normal. See for yourself.”

Della took her hand from her eyes and risked looking at him. He was smiling like a simpleton.

“You presumptuous man,” she growled, “I only meant it in the sense of ‘mighty hunter.’ You displayed great prowess.”

Reflecting on the recent fight chased the humor out of his expression. “I got lucky.”

“Luck is part of every fight. The rest is courage, endurance, and using every advantage you have. And you did, Nicholas. I know you did.” Her voice lowered until she wasn't sure he could hear it. “Because you’re still alive. Humans don’t defeat vampires…not unless they’re exceptional.”

“I had good gear, and your blood gave me immunity to the yoke…”

“Tools. And you used them.” She shifted in the seat, facing him more fully. “Why do you persist in devaluing your accomplishments? Are you unused to praise?“

His didn't answer, and suddenly seemed intent on the road. Della’s flutter of surprise quickly turned to ire. She made a noise of disgust.

“Look…I’m sorry. I’m not trying to upset you.” His voice had gone flat.

“You didn't. But whoever taught you to explain away your achievements so readily has”—she tossed her head—“pissed me off.”

His jaw fell open. “I think that’s the most…ungenteel thing you’ve ever said.” 

Della was irked by his amusement, but glad his mood had improved. “Improper treatment merits improper language. You’ve been mistreated and I’ve been insulted.”

“It’s not like—wait, how could you be insulted?”

Della faced the windshield. She licked her lips and even resisted a brief impulse to chew on her thumb. They were a block away from the apartment. She could just keep silent and let him drive, but the moment was pressing down on her like a weight, demanding…what?

Honesty.

She turned back to him. “Anyone who insists you aren't extraordinary insults my judgement. Do you honestly think I would tell someone they’re an attractive mate if I didn't find them to be so?” 

Silence.

As Nicholas turned into the parking lot, Della took the opportunity to shift her body away. Her arms had crossed tightly over her chest seemingly of their own accord.

He carefully steered the truck past several rows of cars and finally eased it into a space. The engine went quiet and the silence grew exponentially thicker. Neither one of them moved.

“I thought you said you were just complimenting my prowess.”

“I lied.” She blew out a breath, sounding more exasperated than she’d intended. “I have been a lady for more than two centuries,” she explained crossly, “and one of the first things ladies are taught is to be mortified over the stupidest things. Such as the words we say.” She closed her eyes. “Particularly when they just…come out.”

“But your emotions were supposed to be buried. Suppressed.”

“They were.”

Nicholas scratched his arm with a restless agitation he couldn't fully hide. “I don't understand.”

“That makes two of us!” Della clamped her mouth shut, surprised at the outburst. She twitched as Nicholas's hand came to rest on her shoulder in the ensuing silence. He froze…and then slowly slid it fully across her shoulders, gently rubbing back and forth. Incredibly, she felt her muscles start to ease.

“When I saw you in that garage,” she said at last, “my instincts went haywire. In all my long life, Nicholas, I've never experienced anything like…what happened.”

“Della…what did happen? That sexy maneuver with my throat was so—”

She pivoted against his arm and kissed him.

He was surprised at first, but almost immediately she felt his lips soften, melding with hers in mutual ardor. His arm tightened across her back, pulling her closer.

This gambit to avoid talking about the Joining had appealed to her as soon as she'd thought of it, but there were aspects she hadn't considered. Her goal had been to avoid—at least for a little while—the awkwardness of explaining the ritual. Tomorrow, when they were both rested, would be a much better time. But Della quickly realized she’d exchanged one complicated situation for another. 

Now, as she found herself tasting his mouth yet again, she began to feel overwhelmed by alien passions, like she was getting entangled in criss-crossing threads of pleasure, need, and confusion. She moaned, and for the second time that night became aware of a gathering heat between her legs.

No more of these caresses! You’re too hungry.

It was an excuse, a hedge against her anxiety, but there was a basis of truth in it. The smell of Nicholas's blood had grown almost as potent as the swirl of his tongue. Once she was both recovered and fed, their sensual exploration could resume with less risk and—hopefully—more confidence.

Della broke the kiss with an effort of will. Nicholas made the expected sound of frustration, but she was surprised to hear one in her own throat.

“What—” he began.

“We’re too tired,” she said, the breathless quality in her voice reinforcing the claim. “We need rest, and I need to feed before we can resume…caressing.”

Nicholas considered this for a moment. “Tomorrow?” His voice was rough with desire.

“Tomorrow,” she agreed, and a pleasant flutter of anticipation settled in her belly.

“Heh, okay.” Nicholas shot her a rueful smile and turned to look toward his apartment building. “A shower would be nice. Though in my case it might have to be a cold one. That being said…we’d better do this last stretch like normal people. I don't think even you can bluff Ms. Laruso if she catches you carrying me.”

“And that’s the only reason?” she teased.

He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. “Well…when you carry me I have to hold on tight. Which means my mouth is very close to that spot where your shoulder meets your neck. I might not be able to resist an experiment.”

“What kind of experiment?”

Nicholas shrugged. “I kinda want to know if vampires can get hickies.”

Della gave him a look of mock offense. “Sir, those are the words of a shameless gal-sneaker.”

He leaned towards her. “I don’t know what that means,” he said in a soft husky voice.

She followed his lead, sliding closer and filling her voice with sultry promise. “A seducer. A rake. A ravisher of women.”

This time it was Nicholas who pulled back with a shuddering breath. “Okay, you’re right. We’ve got to get out of here or I'm going to get another sprain trying to live up to my reputation as a gal-seeker.”

“Gal-sneaker.”

“Exactly what I said.” He chuckled and opened the door.

They made their way slowly across the parking lot, Della shuffling with the “effort” of supporting Nicholas like a regular human. He had given her his jacket to cover up the bloody tatters of her button-up, leaving him clad in the tight black T-shirt she remembered from the kitchen. Della relished the feel of his taut muscles as she hugged her arm around his waist, acutely aware that the only thing between them was thin cotton.

Get a hold of yourself, for gods’ sake!

She couldn't help it. Her strange hunter—and it was becoming easier and easier to think of Nicholas as hers—had reawakened something vital within her. The physical desire was only part of it, but a part so novel that she couldn't resist returning to it in her mind, like that night in her youth she had once crawled out of bed three times to touch a gifted gown and confirm that it hadn't been bestowed in a dream.

“Hey,” Nicholas said, “earlier you mentioned”—he made a small noise of pain as his knee twinged—“something about having to feed?”

“Yes. It’s been a few days, and after that fight I'm quite famished.”

“Is there…any way I can help with that?”

A different kind of desire rushed through her veins at the thought. Della had intended to use the cold blood stowed in Nicholas’s pack, but it made for a poor alternative. Cold blood tasted awful, and it took an entire day of sleep for her body to turn it into sustenance. But Nicholas…she could smell his blood from here, so potent it almost made her dizzy. 

“Are you sure?” she asked carefully. “I didn't want to assume…”

“The only thing—ow—that I'm worried about is having enough blood to give.”

They had arrived at the sidewalk. Della steadied Nicholas so he could navigate the curb before replying. “You would have enough. Vampires need less than you might think—often much less than they take. All I require is a couple of ounces. Three at most.”

“That’s…wow. Really? I thought—”

“What happened before was when I was out of my mind with hunger. I hate to think of it. How close…” She didn't want to say it.

Nicholas shuffled closer and squeezed her hand. “Close but no cigar. I'm still alive because I trusted you, and I was right.” He smiled. “Even though I recall someone calling me a fool.” His brown eyes looked velvety in this light, their gaze youthful, but not inexperienced. They were such…human eyes, and she wanted to lose herself in them.

“Clearly I misjudged,” she heard herself saying, “but I know a way to make it up to you.”

He suddenly turned on his good leg and rested his other hand on her hip. Their combined pose became more intimate, like a couple getting ready to slow dance.

“What’s that?” he asked.

She placed her hand over his. “The closer to the heart I bite…” She trailed her fingers up his muscular forearm, over his bicep and shoulder, and gently massaged the place where his shoulder met his neck. “…the greater the pleasure for both of us.”

Nicholas made an approving sound, but it turned into a hiss as their weight shifted. He winced.

“But first we have to get you up these stairs,” she added. “Now start hobbling.”

“At least I'm motivated,” he muttered.

It was glacially slow, with Nicholas having to use his uninjured leg to take every step. Their shared anticipation might have prompted him back into motion, but it also made the trip seem much longer. Finally they arrived on the third floor, just a few doors away from blessed privacy.

“Let us hope your Ms. Laruso is taking the night off,” she commented. His only response was a strained grin.

Nicholas unlocked the door with a chuckle. “I don’t say this lightly…today has been the longest of my life.”

Just over the threshold Nicholas went rigid. Della, who had been watching his footing, looked up to see a stranger standing in his living room. Every instinct she possessed went on alert, judging the silver haired woman as a high threat. It took considerable effort not to immediately Compel her out of caution.

“Where the hell have you been?” the woman demanded.

After the briefest pause, Nicholas limped further into the room. “You’re the last person I would have expected,” he said in a firm, controlled voice, “but here you are.” He crossed his arms and affected a cool stare, but Della could hear his wild heartbeat. “Hello, Mother.”

[ A/N - Thanks to everyone who has read Blood and Lace to its conclusion! As I mentioned in last week's update, please let me know with a comment or direct message if you enjoyed this story and would like to see more! ]