Chapter 598
Katelina leaned against the door and listened to the TV. Tinned laughter sounded; an old sitcom, maybe? For hating television, Jorick watched the strangest things.
She straightened her spine and met her eyes in the mirror. She was being silly. If you lack confidence, fake it. Waltz in as though you own the place. Chances were, Jorick would never notice, anyway.
She opened the door and padded inside, chin lifted as she repeated her mantra. Jorick lay stretched out on the bed, hands behind his head and ankles crossed. He clicked the TV off and smiled. "All done?"
"Yeah." The suitcase wasn't where she'd left it. She looked around quickly. "Um, where is"
Before she could finish her sentence, he pounced her to the bed. She squealed and wriggled under his weight. He grinned and snapped playfully. "Now that you're clean, we could do something to dirty you up again."
It took all of her willpower not to laugh. "Please tell me that wasn't supposed to be sexy."
He cocked an eyebrow. "I could name women who'd think so."
"I'm sure you can, but it sounded weird to me." She gave him a consolation smile. "Hey, you tried. That's what"
He interrupted her by rolling them both over, so that she was sprawled on top of him, her legs around his waist. "Then it's your turn. Seduce me."
"You're a man. All I have to do is take the towel off and show up naked."
He gave a polite cough. "For your information, while I do enjoy you without the towel" he paused to tug it loose, "men appreciate you doing more than just showing up naked."
He tossed the towel across the room, so she threw an arm over her breasts. "Men aren't interested in all that romance stuff like women."
"How do you know? Are you a man?"
"No, but I've known a few, thank you, and I've seen plenty of TV, and read magazine articles"
"Written by women and designed to sell, just like television. Programs are condensed, over-simplified attempts at representing reality in tiny, digestible pieces that will draw millions of people, so networks can charge more for advertising slots. Media is not concerned about truth, only about charging Pringles more money for a commercial."
"I'm proud you came up with Pringles."
"There was a commercial before you came out," he admitted. "But the point is that men have feelings. We want to be wooed as much as women. We want to feel special. We want to be told how amazing and attractive we are."
"All right. You're amazing and attractive." She lowered her arm and leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. "But I have no idea how I'm supposed to 'woo' you."
Jorick smirked. "If I have to tell you, it doesn't count. Isn't that what women say?"
"Are you a woman?" she teased.
"Apparently, I need to remind you I'm not." He fisted his hand in the hair at the base of her neck and crushed her lips in a burning kiss. Goose bumps raced down her spine. All pretense of resistance evaporated as her body melted against his.
He broke away to tug his shirt over his head, revealing his pale marble muscles. She couldn't stop herself from touching the tantalizing surface; skimming her palm over his chest, stopping to trace her finger around his nipple.
He caught his breath and bit his lip. When she met his dark eyes, he growled low and pushed her back to the bed. Her lips parted, ready for his kiss, but he pressed his mouth to her neck. She felt the scrape of his teeth. Excitement tingled through her. Though the immortals could have traditional sex, the real thrill, the real orgasm, came from sharing blood, from being bitten and biting your lover back. There'd been a time when she thought it was strange, even scary. Now she felt only desire and excitement.
He nibbled his way to her ear, leaving a trail of want, and whispered, "Where's my wooing?"
"I'll woo you later."
"Is that a promise?" he teased as he trailed his hand down her stomach, to the apex of her need.
"Yes!" She gasped. "I promise."
He smiled against her neck. "I'm going to hold you to it."
She stopped from saying he'd better hold her to somethingit was as cheesy as the line he'd used but his chuckle said he'd heard it anyway. Before she could defend herself, he dropped his hand the last inch and all coherent thoughts fled. Her back arched and her legs opened. Still it wasn't what she really wanted; she wanted the bite, the feel of his skin between her teeth, the taste of his blood.
He teased her with slow, aching circles while she writhed. With each motion, her desire built, until she thought she'd explode.
At last he pressed a kiss to her most sensitive spot, then moved slowly upward, tasting her skin with his tongue. He paused at her breasts. She urged him on with her hips, desperate for him to bite her, to bite him, to have that connection, that fulfillment.
He shifted and she pounced, knocking him back to the bed. He gave an exclamation of surprise as she bit into his neck. His hot blood filled her mouth. She swallowed, reaching out for him. She felt him, like a golden bead of light, but that wasn't what she wanted. She'd been there before, wrapped in his memories, his feelings. Though it was warm and safe, it wasn't what she craved. She wantedneededthe crimson world of pleasure. It didn't come.
He sank his teeth into her. With the pain came the euphoria. She was floating in a world of scarlet, a thousand hands touching her, a thousand lips kissing her. She was lost in him. Moments moved like hours. Finally, everything exploded in silver stars and bright red fireworks that left her panting.
He licked the blood from his lips, then brushed her hair back and kissed her softly. "You're beautiful."
She flushed. "So are you." He wrapped his arms around her and she nuzzled against his chest. A moment of silence passed while she gathered her courage to ask, "When I-I bit you, it didn't-it didn't work. I thought it was up to whoever did the biting about the kind of connection and all, and I was-I was thinking about that but that's not what I got."
He stroked her hair. "It takes more than thinking about it. You have to project it, not just open yourself up and reach."
"How do I project it?"
"It's hard to explain. Mind readers have an easier time."
And there it was. Again. "That's why I couldn't"
"No. All vampires can do it. I imagine it means that all vampires are whisperers, but lack the strength to do it unless they're-stimulated."
"Then why didn't it work?"
He shrugged. "I told you, because you weren't projecting, only seeking. I can't explain it. It's something instinctual, like breathing or swallowing. I don't consciously know how to do it. Don't worry, little one, it will come to you eventually."
"That's helpful," she muttered.
He chuckled. "You have hundreds of years to perfect your abilities. There's no hurry."
"Of course there is. I need to catch up to you. Since you didn't turn me I'm already behind."
He paused, as if that wasn't what he expected. "Even if I'd been the one to turn you, you wouldn't be 'caught up'. I'm more than five hundred years older than you. That's a long time to practice, Katelina." She sagged and he tweaked her nose. "Cheer up. Thanks to Samael's blood, you're already ahead of fledglings your own age."
Though she sensed his unhappiness at Samael's involvement, she was oddly grateful. "At the party in Canada they thought I'd been a vampire for twenty years."
"Exactly. Isn't that enough of a head start for you?"
"No." Because what she wanted was to be equal with Jorick.
"You are equal with me, little one. You always have been."
There was no point in arguing, because she knew he meant well. It only made her more determined to practice, so that one day she could be in the elite ranks with the rest of them.
Just wait.
