Клаудия Грэй – Afterlife (страница 9)
“Don’t ask me to go there without you. I couldn’t take it.” Lucas said it simply, like it was obvious; if he was parted from me, the thin tether of will that kept him going would snap.
“You’re going to Evernight Academy, and I’m going with you.”
“Bianca, no. It’s too dangerous.”
“Lucas, yes.” He always wanted to protect me against every risk, but it was time for a reality check. “Is it more dangerous than my being a vampire in a Black Cross cell? I made it through that, and I’ll make it through this. Besides, there are wraiths who managed to be at Evernight without being destroyed by Mrs. Bethany. Maxie’s one of them. It can be done. At least I know to be careful.”
Lucas didn’t look convinced. “We could do something else. Lock me up someplace until I—”
“Until you stop wanting blood?” I kept my voice low, to soften the impact of my next words. “That’s not going to happen. And I’m not turning you into a prisoner in some basement somewhere. I’m telling you, we can do this. We can because we have to.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I don’t either, but I’ll be all right. You’ll have a structure there, a blood supply, other vampires who can help teach you how to handle this. Ranulf and Balthazar will go with you,” I promised. “And Vic’s going back, too, remember?”
His dark green eyes widened, and I knew that Vic wasn’t a source of comfort for him; he wasn’t a friend. He was prey.
Hurriedly, I added, “You’ll be able to be around Vic while others are there to help you. Eventually it’s going to seem easy.”
Lucas stared down at the floor, and I hated myself for being so glib, so casual. Maybe he would learn to bear it, but it would never be easy. It didn’t help either of us for me to pretend that it could.
I remembered what Balthazar had said, about vampires walking into a fire rather than going on. Lucas knew better than most how to destroy a vampire’s body.
“Okay. It won’t be easy,” I said. “It never has been. And that’s never kept us apart.”
He held out his arms, and I ran into them. Already his embrace had cooled, but it was still Lucas, still us.
Into my hair, Lucas whispered, “Will I only see you in my dreams?”
“As long as you have my brooch, I can get to you.”
He frowned, then pulled the brooch from his back pocket. The Whitby jet flower, ornately carved, had been a gift from him to me when we were first dating. He’d taken it with him when he went into the fight, to die; that was the only thing that had allowed me to reach him. “Why the brooch?”
“Things that wraiths bonded to strongly in life, meaningful things—like this brooch, or my bracelet, or the gargoyle outside the window of my old room—well, we can use them to travel. They’re like stops on a subway line; I can travel to them, just sort of appear wherever they are. The coral bracelet and the jet brooch are especially powerful, because they’re made out of materials that were once living creatures.” I closed his hand around the brooch. “So as long as you keep this with you, I’ll always be able to find you. See, you’ll still have a way to make sure I’m safe.”
“Evernight,” he said. “Okay.” I could tell I hadn’t convinced him as much as worn him down. He remained more frightened for me than for himself. But we truly had no other place to turn.
We hugged again, more tightly this time. How badly I wanted to believe that Lucas had found a reason to hope. Even as we embraced, though, I could tell he was looking over my shoulder, staring at the blood.
Chapter Five
“REST,” I SAID AS WE STEPPED INTO ONE OF THE hotel rooms in downtown Philadelphia that Balthazar had paid for. It was ridiculously luxurious, with white cotton quilts on high platform beds—too clean for undead creatures smeared with dried blood. “We both need to rest.”
“Can you sleep?” Lucas asked. He’d eaten again on the way over, several pints, and now had the half-dazed look that I recognized as a result of overfeeding—like Mom and Dad on Thanksgiving. We’d had to give him as much as he could take; it was the only way to ensure he could get through the hotel lobby without snapping. Soon he’d crash.
“I’m not sure ghosts need to sleep. Sometimes I need to sort of . . . fade out, I guess. But it’s not quite the same thing.”
“Where do you go? When you fade out.”
I shrugged. There was so much I still didn’t know about my new wraith nature. “Someplace I can get back from. That’s the only thing that matters.”
He nodded wearily. Through the thin hotel walls, I could hear Balthazar roughly throwing down his gear in the next room. We’d decided to spend the last days before the new semester in the hotel because Vic’s parents were due to return from Italy. He was going to be in enough trouble about the torn-up front lawn without his mom and dad discovering an infestation of vampires in the basement.
Besides, we needed to give Vic some more space. He and Lucas hadn’t come face-to-face since the attack, by their mutual agreement. It was obvious that Vic was trying hard to come to terms, but it was just as obviously going to take a while.
“Why do vampires need sleep? Doesn’t make much sense.” Lucas kicked off his boots and slid out of his jeans. Now that he wore only his boxers and a T-shirt, I could see that his whole body had taken on the sculpted beauty of the vampire. The tee outlined every broad muscle of his chest.
Although I had lost my mortal body, I could still feel desire.
I turned off one of the side lamps nearer the window and pulled shut the heavy drapes that would keep out the morning sun. Lucas had fed recently enough that sunlight wouldn’t hurt him, but he’d probably hate the glare. “My mom used to say that she thought it was more of a habit than anything else, like the body keeps on doing what it knows it should do. See how you’ve started breathing again? You won’t stop, even when you’re sound asleep.”
“Though I’ll never need air again.” Lucas said it as a joke, but it fell flat. I could tell he’d just realized that he’d never feel the relief of a good, deep breath, or a heartfelt sigh.
He collapsed into bed, sinking back gratefully into the feather-plump pillows. Probably he could have fallen asleep within seconds, but I had different ideas.
Maybe Lucas’s ravenous blood hunger could be channeled into other things. Other needs. Where being ravenous wouldn’t be a problem—quite the opposite, actually.
Carefully, I tried shimmying out of the cloud-patterned pajama bottoms. They weren’t so much actual clothes as they were the memory of clothes, so I wasn’t sure whether or not they’d come off.
They would. The pajamas crumpled to the floor and just sort of vanished. I hoped they’d come back—but later. Ideally, I wouldn’t want them for a while.
Lucas raised an eyebrow.
As I slipped into the bed beside him, he smiled a little—the first sign of real pleasure I’d seen from him since his resurrection. “Does this still work?” he murmured. “You and me?”
“Let’s find out.”
He pulled me down into his arms; we were cold against each other now, but it was natural to him and to me, to what we had become. Delicate lines of frost laced the sheets around us as our lips met gently. For the first moment, Lucas was so unsure— of his reactions, of mine—that I felt unbearably tender toward him. Like all I wanted to do was wrap myself around him like a blanket and shelter him from everything we’d been through.
His mouth opened beneath mine as he tangled his fingers in my hair. The only thing I wore now was the coral bracelet that would keep me solid, make this possible.
Our kisses intensified and deepened. Lucas’s hands were still his hands, strong and familiar. He touched me the same way. I felt pleasure differently now—softer, more diffuse and yet allencompassing—but it was no less for having changed. And as I grew surer, passion building between us, it seemed as though my joy in him flowed through us both.
He rolled me onto my back, but then his expression changed. I saw his fangs, understood, and smiled. I felt the urge to bite, too—not as strongly, now that I no longer needed blood, but sex and fangs would always go together for me.
“It’s okay,” I whispered against his throat, between kisses. “You can be hungry for this. You can have this.”
“Yes,” he said roughly. His green eyes bored into me, a desperate plea.
“Do you need to drink?” I arched against him and let my head fall back, exposing my throat. Lucas breathed in, a hard gasp. “Drink from me.”
With a growl, he sank his teeth into my flesh. I felt again the real pain of having a body, and that alone was its own kind of pleasure. My hands gripped him tightly around the back, surrendering to his hunger —
—until he shoved himself away from me, shouting out in pain.
“Lucas?” I sat upright, clutching the sheet to me. “Lucas, what’s wrong?”
“It burns!”
As he stumbled from the bed, clutching at his throat, he choked and then spat. Silver wraith blood shimmered on the floor briefly before it faded. I smelled smoke and snapped on the bedside light; on the carpet I could see a couple of faint singe marks. Then I realized the sheets were scorched too—coffee-colored drops from where my blood had fallen. I put my hand to the wound at my throat, but it was already closing. The skin knitted beneath my fingertips, a ticklish sensation.