Blood Dolls (Blood Vice 4) Page 6

  By the time Jessica dropped us off at the Velvet Casket, it was almost two in the morning. We still had five hours until sunrise, but we’d exhausted our lead. At least, for now. I decided I’d change into some fresh clothes before circling back to the bistro for a nightcap.

  The clerk at the hotel’s front desk wore a priest costume. After he’d checked us in, he crossed himself and told us to rest in peace. The keys to my and Roman’s rooms were tucked inside little velvet coffins of their own. They’d been handed over with a pamphlet that closely resembled a funeral program, listing off information about the hotel and the Midnight District.

  When we stepped off the elevator, Roman squinted at the numbers and arrows posted on the wall. We’d been given rooms across the way from one another. There were two more on the opposite end of the hall, with a little sitting area nestled around the elevator we’d just exited. A vending machine hummed next to a narrow table with brochures and coupons for local businesses. I spotted one for Hotshots Bistro and grabbed it along with a pamphlet about the Cheese Festival and the history of Spero Heights.

  The hardwood floors in the hotel were stained so dark they almost looked black, and the walls running along the hallway were covered in lacy, black-and-red wallpaper. It was a little campy, but it wasn’t cheap. The place was well-kempt.

  I thought of the Cottage Crypt, the only other vampire-approved lodging I’d experienced. And then I thought about Vanessa, whose elderly birth mother ran the bed and breakfast. She was a vampire now, too but, oddly enough, Vanessa’s scion. That was some weird family history.

  The train of thought also reminded me that Roman and Vanessa had shared a room together there. Not even a year ago.

  He’d said that she wasn’t his girlfriend. But did he simply mean that she wasn’t anymore? She was still his potential sire, so I knew that she gave Roman blood regularly…and that meant he most likely gave her blood, too. Right?

  The thought of asking him to confirm or deny these things killed me. It felt too much like an invitation for him to lie his way into my pants. And the thought of him being honest and spelling out what Vanessa had been—or still was—to him… It would crush that tiny, fragile bit of hope I had left that something real could come of this.

  I unlocked the door to my hotel room and stepped inside, clicking on the light switch as I went. The place was catalog-worthy. Velvet drapes covered the window, and the corner of the quilted comforter was turned down to show plain, white sheets below. Everything else was in red and black, textured with subtle, gothic patterns.

  I dropped my bag on a velvet chair beside the closet and turned around to find Roman waiting in the doorway. The look in his eyes stirred something low in my stomach and triggered my bloodlust. I pressed my tongue into the bottom of one fang, willing it to stay put.

  “Something wrong with your room?” I asked.

  “I don’t care which one we stay in.” His voice was rough and soft at the same time, and it did strange things to me.

  “We?” I whispered out a dry laugh. “There is no we.”

  He backed me farther into the room and slowly closed the door behind him without taking his eyes off me. He tossed his bag on the chair with mine and began unbuttoning his suit jacket. My mouth went dry.

  “Please, don’t do this.”

  I’d given up, and I was begging now. He knew I wouldn’t be able to resist him for long. It had been murder putting on the brakes the first few times we’d slipped up. I didn’t think I could pull it off again. I wanted him. I wanted his body and his blood and just…him.

  This had to be the lifeblood bond. I’d never wanted anything—or anyone—like this before. This couldn’t be normal. How could anyone function like this? It was insane.

  “I’m just taking off my jacket,” Roman said, looping it over the arm of the chair. Next, he loosened the knot of his tie. “It’s warm in here.”

  I touched the buttons on my blazer, trying to decide if I should take it off. Or if maybe I should tell him to get out more directly. If I ordered him out of the room, if I screamed in his face, he’d retreat. But I couldn’t bring myself to do that.

  “I’m not interested in being a doormat, Roman,” I said, moving farther into the room as I stripped out of my blazer. I tossed it on the corner of the bed and gave him my back as I peeked past the curtains, gazing down at the lively street below. My bloodlust sent a painful throb through my chest, despite the extra distance I’d put between us.

  “Doormat? How have I mistreated you?” Roman’s voice sounded genuinely hurt. “I’ve kept your secrets from coming to light. I prepared you for the bat cave. Hell, and that was even before I gave you lifeblood. What more do you want from me?”

  “Everything! I want you to talk to me. I want to know who you are. I want to know your past. I don’t want whatever we’re doing here to be a great big secret. Basically, everything a real girlfriend would want.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Girlfriend?”

  “Well, I certainly won’t be answering to ‘mistress.’” I folded my arms.

  Roman crept in closer, shrinking the buffer I’d created. “Lover has a nice ring to it, though. Doesn’t it?”

  I sighed and rolled my eyes, but I didn’t pull away when his fingers brushed my elbows and trailed up the backs of my arms. His body heat engulfed me.

  “Roman,” I whispered in a warning tone.

  “Nothing I say will make this easier or change the final outcome.” He touched my chin, tilting it up until I looked at him. “I can’t stop thinking about you. When I close my eyes, you’re the only thing I see.”

  My breath hitched, and I felt myself leaning closer, but he went on.

  “But it doesn’t change anything. In fact, it will likely make this even harder in the end. Despite all that, I still want you. Our paths may be destined to diverge, but I think they were fated to merge first.”

  I swallowed. “Are you quoting at me again? I don’t know that one.”

  “That one’s all me, lover.” Roman grinned and slipped his arm more securely around my waist. The fingers on my chin slid down my jaw and brushed the side of my neck. “Can't we just...enjoy this while it lasts? What's so wrong with that?”

  “I want more than you’re willing to give.”

  “I'm giving as much as I can. You give,” he countered, knocking his hips softly into mine.

  “We hardly know each other.”

  “We’re in each other’s blood. What more do you need to know?”

  “Your middle name. Where you were born. Your favorite food.” I rattled off the list, forgetting the more dire questions I wanted to ask. Things about his former sires and human family. Those would only push him away, and I was beyond that now.

  My mouth watered for him. My blood cried out for his.

  Roman’s lips lingered near mine. “Harlow, Boston, and you.”

  “Please,” I begged, but I could no longer tell if the plea was for him to leave or to take me.

  “You didn’t feed before we left the city, did you?” The accusation sounded more like a wish with his hot breath spilling across my cheek. My canines tugged at my gums, extending on cue.

  “No. I didn’t.”

  “Good.” His fingers dug into my hips, and he pulled me in, crushing his mouth to mine.

  I gasped as his tongue dragged against the tips of my fangs, and I tasted blood. The noise it drew from me was nowhere near human. My hands gripped his biceps over the button-down shirt. The fabric was in my way. I wanted it gone. Now.

  I worked my fingers over to his chest and shakily removed his tie. When he withdrew from our kiss and went for the buttons on his shirt, I hissed out a desperate breath and ripped it open instead. Buttons clicked against the hardwood floor, scattering under the bed and velvet chair.

  An apology was on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it as Roman pushed my blouse up my torso. I lifted my arms for him, trying to speed things along. Once I was free of the garment, he tossed it
over his shoulder and went for my pants.

  This was moving too fast, and yet, not fast enough. Roman leaned in and pressed a feverish series of kisses to my mouth and face and neck as he shrugged out of his ruined shirt. I took the opportunity to unzip his slacks. My hands brushed against the hard plane of his stomach, and when he trembled, I almost came undone.

  “Roman.” I sighed his name. We were at the line I’d drawn several times before. No, we’d finally passed that point. The boundaries kept pushing farther and farther out. Neither of us had the endurance to prevent it.

  “Jenna.” Roman whispered my name back to me as his hands resumed their exploration of my body. His breath lit up my skin where he kissed an electric line over my collarbone to the swell of my shoulder, giving me an up-close view of his neck. Beneath his pale skin, a vein pulsed out a frantic invitation.

  My fangs extended to their full length, grazing my lower lip until it was too painful to keep my mouth closed. I heaved in an aching breath and then answered the call of his blood, striking with all the grace of a cobra.

  Roman shuddered, and then his arms wrapped around my back, pulling me in against his chest. He lifted me off the floor until only my toes touched. I slipped one hand behind his shoulder. My other went to the back of his head, fingers raking through his hair.

  His thick blood filled my mouth, searing hot and syrupy sweet. It made every nerve ending in my body sing for release. And then we were on the bed, my back against the comforter, and Roman’s exquisite physique pressing down on me. He was all man—from the stubble on his jaw that chafed my skin to the low groan stirring in the back of his throat.

  I had my fill of him before my fangs let go of his flesh with a slick pop. Tears of ecstasy burned at the corners of my eyes. I was an imploding star, pure bliss, with no beginning or end.

  I laughed hysterically, letting Roman’s blood trail down my cheek. He stopped its progression with a kiss before claiming my lips again. Then his mouth moved lower, and a second, more desperate thirst sank its hooks into me.

  “Roman.” I growled his name this time, encouraging him to keep going.

  “Jenna,” he whispered somewhere between kisses down the center of my chest and stomach.

  It felt like he was touching me everywhere at once. My insides were melting in the most delicious way. Had anything ever felt this good? I couldn’t remember. I didn’t think so.

  Whatever this was that we were doing, I never wanted it to stop.

  * * * * *

  An hour before sunrise, Roman and I were still lying on the hotel bed. We’d finally exhausted ourselves enough to take a break, and Roman, being mortal, required human sustenance to keep up with the workout I was giving him.

  He produced a protein bar from his bag before climbing back onto the bed and flopping down beside me. His wild hair was even more untamed than usual, and a smug grin stretched across his face.

  “Don’t make a mess with that,” I said, eyeing the snack.

  “Can’t be any worse than the mess we’ve already made.”

  I grimaced and glanced down at the sheets. He was right. Spots of dried blood were everywhere. I imagined a vampire hotel would be adept at dealing with bloodstains, but it still inspired a frown.

  “We can move to the room across the hall if you’d like,” Roman offered.

  “No, it’s fine.” It wasn’t like I’d care what the sheets looked like when I was dead to the world. And if I woke up in a fresh bed after sunset, I’d have to wonder if any of this had actually happened or if it was all just a cruel dream.

  I watched Roman while he ate, taking in the lines of his body in the soft light spilling from the faux candelabra sticking out of the wall on either side of the bed. The twin holes I’d left on the column of his neck had already closed, fading to pink dots that looked like nothing more than mosquito bites.

  Roman caught me staring and paused his chewing. “It will be completely gone in another few hours.”

  I nodded, remembering how quickly Stella, Delilah’s harem donor at the Cottage Crypt, had healed after I’d bitten her. Of course, I’d had Delilah’s permission. And though I couldn’t be sure, I didn’t think Delilah was romantically involved with Stella. Ever. That had to make a difference, didn’t it?

  I rolled onto my side and propped my head on one hand, using my other to comb through the tangled nest that my blond hair had become. “How much trouble would we be in if Vanessa knew we were in bed together?”

  The question startled Roman, but he finished chewing and swallowed before answering. “I honestly don’t think she’d care. We have our past, but it’s just that—the past. We exchange blood only when necessary, and she has five other harem donors who have lives and relationships of their own, too.”

  “Huh.” That was an interesting revelation. “What about if she knew I’d fed from you?”

  “Well…” He swallowed again, and his brow pinched. “We should probably keep that to ourselves. She really doesn’t even need to know that we’re lovers. That’s none of her business.”

  “Right.” I sighed.

  Roman finished his protein bar and turned away from me to toss the wrapper into a bin beside the bed. The light rolled over his muscled back, and my heart froze mid-beat.

  A tiny, familiar circle of scar tissue marred the backside of one shoulder. He jerked around at my astonished gasp.

  “What is it?” he asked, eyes widening with confusion.

  “You…you’ve been…bitten by—” I pointed at his shoulder, unable to put the words together.

  Roman sucked in a tight breath. “Scarlett.”

  “Why? How? When?” I didn’t know which I wanted to know first. My brain wasn’t working anymore.

  I sat upright and clutched the sheets to my chest. I was horrified and disgusted. Outrage and confusion swirled in the mix, too. To Roman’s credit, he did his best to defuse me with the truth.

  “Scarlett was my sire twenty years ago, before she and Raphael were exiled and Vanessa took me in.”

  “What?” My blood vision flickered, painting him as red as the wallpaper.

  “It was only for a few years, after…my first sire died a true death.” Roman’s eyes welled, and he gave me a pleading look. He didn’t want to talk about this, but I had to know. If he wanted to share a bed and blood, he owed me the truth.

  “I was already under contract with Blood Vice at that point,” Roman went on, reading my expression for what it was. “My human mother died when I was eighteen, in 1964. We were poor and couldn’t afford quality treatment for her condition, which I later found out was cancer. I was diagnosed with it just a few years later.”

  “That’s why you agreed to become a donor?” I asked. Something Vin had said the night I returned home from Denver came back to me. Your blood cures everything.

  Roman nodded. “Being regularly anointed doesn’t just keep me young and dashing.” He gave me a soft smile, an attempt to lighten the mood. “My first sire had been a noble and a close friend of the queen’s, so she found a home for me within the new baroness’s harem. That experience is not worth recounting, but I was placed in better hands not long after.”

  “Vanessa.” Her name left a bad taste in my mouth.

  Roman winced at my tone. “We were never in love. It was a business transaction that yielded occasional…benefits. And she’s never deprived me for the sake of a brand,” he added with a peeved glance over his shoulder at the ring of scar tissue. “Vanessa is fair and honest, and I think I could stand her for another fifty years until I earn my own fangs.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. The idea of her drinking his blood—and vice versa—curdled in my stomach until I thought I might be sick. Then I remembered Scarlett and the mark she’d left, and the room began to spin.

  I wanted to kill anyone who had ever thought about putting their fangs in Roman. I didn’t care how little sense it made. I didn’t care that those exchanges had saved his life, again and again. I
wanted to be the one who did that—the only one.

  Tears stung my eyes, and Roman crawled across the bed, pulling me in against his chest. “Come here,” he whispered, shushing my quiet sobs. “Hey, now. We’re okay, aren’t we?” He stroked my hair. “We have forever sprawled out before us. We don’t need to have all the answers today.”

  I tried to let his words comfort me, but everything was just too screwed up to wrap my mind around. My eyelids sagged, and I realized that dawn was approaching. In a few minutes, I would die. Right here in Roman’s arms if I didn’t send him away.

  I thought about it and decided I didn’t care. I wanted every last minute of this night.

  His voice faded slowly, echoing through his chest alongside his heartbeat. I pressed my ear in closer, letting the lullaby of his body see me off into the abyss.

  * * * * *

  I woke with a start Tuesday night. The sheets beside me were cold, but a note scrawled on a piece of hotel stationery let me know that Roman had left early to interview some of the day walkers. He’d also included another Dickinson line about wild nights.

  Be still my sluggish, undead heart.

  The blood I’d sipped from him had been fulfilling, but any energy it offered had been immediately spent during our heated union. I decided now would be a good time to visit the bistro. I was thinking clearer and less like a hopeless-romantic-slash-starving-poet.

  As much as Roman and I wanted to be everything the other needed, that wasn’t plausible. I couldn’t feed from him every day—even if he weren’t a member of someone else’s harem—and he was well versed enough in vampire biology to know better than to realistically want that anyway. Still, I was glad not to have to explain myself to him.

  I took a quick shower and dressed in the outfit I’d packed—a pair of gray slacks and a navy blouse. My blazer was a little crinkled from where it had been tossed from the bed, but I found an iron in the closet and was looking professional again in no time.

  The hotel room proved even more interesting without Roman for distraction. An intricate cross was carved into the backside of the door, the outline of a coffin engraved around it. And a vase of red and white roses rested on the bathroom counter next to a complimentary bar of soap that was also, unsurprisingly, carved into the shape of a casket.