Chapter 20

Opening his eyes, Julian knew he had to be dreaming. He lay in a room that smelled like home. The dark wood furnishings belonged in Infinity, where he'd barely set foot for months. His bones felt encased by permafrost, while vicious hunger gnawed in his belly.

Despite his aching body, he was certain he was dreaming, because there was fiery red hair tickling across his bare shoulders and the distinct sensation of lips on his brow. The air smelled warm and welcoming. It smelled like her.

Leaning over him was his Brigitte, sitting up as if she'd just bent to kiss him.Her green eyes were ringed in shadow, but she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. And when he stirred, her eyes snapped open.

And she smiled.

Yes, he was certainly dreaming, but what a beautiful dream it was.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, reaching out to touch his hand. Warmth radiated from her touch, pushing back the cold.

"You're here, so I feel fine," he said, his voice rough.

At that, her smile tugged up crookedly. "How very romantic of you."

"Did you just kiss me?" he croaked.

Her smile faltered. "I—well, yes," she said with a little laugh. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Do it again," he said, reaching for her hand. "Please."

Her breath hitched as she leaned closer, both graceful hands cupping his face as if he was something precious. Her warm lips brushed over his brow, then to his cheek, teasing at the corner of his mouth before she granted him a proper kiss, the sort of kiss that broke the deadliest of curses and defied the machinations of witches.

When she broke away, he savored the warmth of her breath across his lips, the pounding of her heart that filled the room with music. "I wish I had more dreams like this."

At that, she let out a laugh that reminded him of those first days before everything went wrong. "You're awake," she said.

"Am I?"

She nodded. "For better or for worse."

"But you're here," he said.

Her expression faltered, and she nodded. "I am. You came to save me from her. The least I could do was keep an eye on you."

If nothing else, that convinced him he was awake. If he was dreaming, she'd have told him she was desperately in love and couldn't bear to be apart for a moment.

Somehow, this was better. This was real. The taste of her on his lips, the whisper of her hair across his skin…they were real. She had chosen to be here.

He sat up and immediately regretted it. His head pounded, and he looked down to see his bare chest covered in twisting black lines that bulged like swollen veins across his skin. "What the hell?" he muttered. He remembered nothing but the feeling of being struck by lightning and staked through the heart at the same time. Then his memory was a blank.

"Armina's protective magic," Scarlett said apologetically. "Shoshanna and Misha worked on you for a while, and they think it'll fade in a few more days."

"A few more… How long have I been out?"

"Two days," she said.

He swore and swung his legs over the bed, then realized too late that the cool air was touching all of him. As he loomed over Scarlett, her eyes went wide. "Where are my clothes?"

"I don't know!" she squeaked. "I'll find some!"

She stumbled, nearly ran into the doorframe, then scurried out of the small room as he stood bare-assed naked in the middle of the room. When he looked around, he saw the familiar, austere barracks that they'd kept for years. Like many of the Shroud, he'd claimed a condo in 21 East, their sun and sound-proofed building just a few blocks away. But he spent countless nights here, working until the sun was creeping over the horizon, when he could fall into exhaustion rather than going home to the empty apartment that was so full of negative space, infected wounds where she should have been.

But there was something new here. In one corner of the room was a cozy armchair, one he recognized from Olivia Pierce's old office. A blanket was laid across the arm, with a paperback book atop it. He crept closer and was bathed in her smell. Emotion nearly overwhelmed him. After everything, she'd still wanted to watch over him.

Back in those sweet few years before Armina took her from him, Brigitte hadn't needed to care for him often. That was his job, he reminded her. Vampires didn't get sick, and as he'd often teased her, if she tried to brew him a pot of soup as a remedy, it might have made things worse.

But even then, he'd often woken from his daytime slumber to find her already awake, gently stroking his hair. Rather than jolting awake like he had in the times of strife with the Shieldsmen, he was gently lifted into consciousness and into her presence.It was better than waking up to the first rays of sun, and he'd thought he would never have it again.

He was about to bring the blanket to his nose when the door creaked open. Her eyes drifted down, then snapped up as she shoved a stack of folded clothes at him. "Here," she squeaked. "I called Paris and told him you're awake. He'll be here in an hour."

When she backed away, he caught her wrist lightly and pulled her closer. Before he could stop himself, he bent to kiss her soft, full lips. She made a little noise of surprise, but instead of pulling back, she leaned into him. His tongue teased at her lips, which parted for him in a warm rushing sigh.

Then it was his turn for a surprise when she pushed him against the wall, breaking away for only a moment to gaze up at him with a familiar hunger in her eyes. "Thank you for coming to rescue me," she breathed.

"Thank you for watching over me," he said, his voice rough. Then she was on him, hands kneading into his aching chest hard enough to make his muscles protest, but he didn't stop her. She overwhelmed him with her desire, and for a moment, he doubted his sanity. Surely this was a dream. Her lips broke from his, and she made an adorable sound of frustration when she rose on her toes again, trying to reach him.

Then she gasped as he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up, pressing her back to the wall. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and his cock ached with need.

He kissed her neck, felt that thrumming pulse beneath her skin, then followed to the loose sleeve of her top. Beneath her soft skin, he felt the warm, pulsing life in her veins. Her hips writhed against him, and he took the cue to return to her lips. He teased at her, and she followed when he pulled back. "When I open that door, I have to deal with everything that's waiting," he said roughly. "But you're in here. Do you want to be here?"

She nodded, teeth tugging at her lower lip. "Yes."

"And what do you want with me, Scarlett?" he said, holding her jaw lightly, stroking across her lip with his thumb. "Do you want me to let you go and put my clothes on like a proper Elder?"

Her lips curved in a smile. "No."

At that, he grinned, and he lowered his head to kiss the base of her throat. Every kiss was a silent question, a test, and he gently kissed her lean arm, down to her fingertips. She lingered there against the door, little gasps punctuating her quiet breaths. When he bent, gently lifting her shirt, she didn't protest, and he brushed kisses across her flat stomach, at that lovely curve that led to her hip.

"I dreamed about doing this with you," she blurted. "Before we ever met."

"Did you, now? And what did I do to you?" he asked.

Her head tilted toward him, and then she glanced pointedly down to her legs. "I, uh…I've never done any of those things for real. Just dreams," she said.Her cheeks were berry-pink, and she clearly couldn't bring herself to say the words.

That was fine. He would steal the words anyway. Resting his hands on her hips, he slowly knelt in front of her. Her breath shuddered out of her, bathing him in her scent. "And will you allow me to indulge your dream?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered. "I don't know what to do, though."

"I do," he said, gently sliding her loose pants down over her hips. The warm smell of her arousal hit him like a cloud. It was all he could do not to take her right then. There was still a part of him that feared he was dreaming, that this would fall away like so many lovely dreams of the past.

But there was no rude awakening as he slid his fingers over her smooth skin, as he kissed one muscular thigh, up to that perfect little crease near her hip. She shivered as he pressed his lips to the soft fabric over her sex. The slight pressure against his lips told him she wanted more, silently drawing him closer. He slid her panties down, exposing the soft curls against her golden skin.

"Julian, I—" She gasped when he stroked her gently with his fingers, finding her already warm and slick with desire.

Still stroking her slowly, he lifted his head. "Scarlett, I have not made love to a woman in over a hundred years because I promised myself to you. My soul, my heart, and my body. I have hungered for you for so long," he said, pressing gently against the tight bud of her clit. Her eyes rolled back and she drew a shuddering breath. "May I? May I give you pleasure?"

"Yes," she blurted. "Please."

Gripping her hips tight, he flicked his tongue across her and nearly swooned at the taste. Familiar, yet new. He knew her, but time had altered his memories, and this was like finding her all over again. He drew in her scent, then lashed at her with his tongue, parting those soft lips as he feasted upon her. As she panted, he focused on her clit, teasing it with his tongue until she let out a keening sound.

She is mine. I have her again, he thought. Perhaps if he claimed her thoroughly, if he bound them together somehow, fate would not take her again.

"Oh, God," she blurted. "I'm— I'm almost?—"

He slid his finger into her, stroking against her walls slowly as her body clenched tight around him. As he'd often overheard Paris proclaiming to others, one of the best benefits of vampirism was not having to breathe. His body was bound in service to Scarlett Ward, to the soft flesh that seared against his lips, to the thundering pulse beneath that delicate skin. There was no need to stop until she begged him to show mercy.

Both her hands clutched at his head, holding him close as she chased her climax. The feeling of her fingers twining into his hair, with the little sting that made him feel alive, ignited that growing spark of hope. A demand was so much sweeter than an agreement.

Good girl, he thought, easing another finger into her.She gasped, and then all at once, she froze, hips pushing against his face as she let out one tiny squeaking cry. Heat surged through him, and he felt her pleasure flooding his nerves. His muscles tensed with it, with that lovely heat wave of climax so different from his own. And he realized that if Paris would be here in an hour, he had time to thoroughly present his position to Scarlett. He wanted her to understand that he was not making empty promises or idle threats when it came to taking care of her.

When she let out a rough shout that fell away into a moan, he briefly wondered if any of the others were sleeping nearby. Their barracks were sound-proofed, but Scarlett had a set of lungs to rival a banshee.

Let them hear. Let the whole damned universe and every vicious little witch know that she was his.

Several minutes later, she slumped, pushing his head away. Her legs buckled, and he caught her by the waist and laughed as she sank to the floor, legs splayed, cheeks bright red. Her eyes were glazed as she stared at him in wonder. "That felt amazing," she breathed.

"I can tell," he said wryly.

Her eyes widened as she looked down at him. The clean clothes she'd brought lay in a heap across the room, and there was no hiding his desire for her. Her smile faltered. "I want to make you come. But I don't really know how."

Her hand inched closer, and then she started to lean in as if she meant to take him into her mouth. One hand bundled her hair back, and the temptation nearly consumed him.

He caught her wrist lightly. "If I've been asleep for two days, I can't let you do that. Not until I shower."

"Oh. Then…" she murmured. He guided her hand to his cock instead. The mere brush of her palm against his shaft made him shiver, and he realized it would take nothing at all to make him fall over the edge. Instead of watching her hand wrap around him, he met her eyes, watching the way that smile returned. Then her eyes widened. "Oh…I think I feel…"

"We're bonded," he bit out. He knew this too, thanks to Paris overindulging in the whiskey a few weeks ago. He hadn't meant for Julian to hear; they all kept quiet about their lovers for fear of making him sad. It was a nice gesture, though a bit of a waste when they all had such good hearing.

Whether it was instinct or memory or the magic of the soulmate bond, she followed the aching want of his body, stroking him more firmly now, leaning in to kiss him as the heat gathered with that pleasure-pain at the base of his spine. He was nearly— almost— and he cried out against her lips as he climaxed, smelling the way her desire overflowed. In a daze, he slumped against her, and they lay back on the floor in an awkward tangle, new carpet rough against his skin.

Her hair spilled over his arm as she lay back against his shoulder. She breathed hard, her pulse gradually slowing as they lay in the quiet together.

"Did we do this…" She hesitated. "Do you remember doing this with her?"

"I do," he said. "But the past is the past. And I very much liked doing that with you."

She glanced over and smiled at him. "My feelings for you are confusing. I don't know what any of it means."

He nodded. "Then let's make it simple for now. Easy question. Do you like spending time with me?"

"Yes."

It was an easy one, but perhaps the most important. Her quick answer made him smile. "Do you like kissing me?"

"Very yes," she said solemnly.

He laughed. "And would you like a repeat performance of my head between your thighs?"

At that, she giggled and said, "Very, very yes. If you let me do the same for you."

"I can live with that," he said. He was quiet for a moment. "Do you trust me?"

The mirth evaporated from her expression, though she didn't look upset. "Not entirely, but please don't be upset."

"I'm not," he said, though it still stung to hear.

"It's just that all I heard for ten years was how bad the Auberon vampires were, especially you. There's a voice in my head with a lot of practice," she said. "But I also know what I've seen of you for the last few days. And…that part of me trusts you. Do you trust me, even though I hunted vampires and tried to kill you?"

"I do. It's hard to overcome what you've been taught. And I know you only want to do the right thing, or you wouldn't have been so adamant about helping Kova." He glanced at her, hating to break the spell. "Is Kova all right?"

She nodded. "Paris insisted on locking him in until the spell is broken. Kova agreed. Shoshanna and Misha have been trying to analyze the binding spell so they can break it."

"And has everyone treated you well?" he asked sternly.

"They have," she said. Her brow furrowed, as if she'd heard something, and then she smiled again. But now her expression was strangely brittle. "You should probably get dressed. Now that they know you're awake, you'll have to get back to work."

He sat up and took her left hand, remembering how he had placed that ring on her finger so long ago. Her eyes drifted to his hand, then back up to his face. "I don't want to leave this room."

A smile tugged at her lips. "Then…maybe we can come back," she said. "After you do all the hard work of being the Elder, of course."

"You promise?"

"I promise," she said.