“I see,” she said in a groggy tone and scooted in closer to him. “You’re so gorgeous I’ll just fall right in love with you the second I see you?”
It was his turn to laugh. God. He missed her so much. She’d always been the ray of sunshine in the dark of his life. It was a cheesy endearment, but he meant it every time he said it. “I just thought you fell for the dark, brooding type.”
She moved a little closer. They were almost touching. “Vincent just needed someone to love him. He was easy to love.”
It took him a moment before he was able to say anything without her hearing the raw emotion stampeding through him. “I think,” he said, and then had to think some more before he said anything else. “No. I know you gave Vincent the best parts of his life. He died for a worthy cause. It distresses him that you suffer so greatly because of it.”
She let out a low, sobbing sound as she jerked back. “No. I killed him. I killed Vincent.”
He shifted on the bed until he was sitting up. He was able to see her perfectly in the darkness. Death had its perks. Too bad they didn’t have the one perk he needed to know he’d finally earned Heaven. He reached out and gently cupped the side of her face. “No. He died to save you from the actions of vampires. You were the innocent in all of this. Please know that.”
*
But she wasn’t sure she wanted to know that. If there was nothing she could have done—nothing she should have done to prevent it, then it would be wholly selfish to work toward being with him again in the afterlife. She didn’t want to think she’d wasted something he’d sacrificed his life for. It made her chest hurt and her tears fall harder.
Before she knew what was happening, Wraith was next to her on the bed, pulling her body up tight against his. His hand stroked down the length of her hair.
“I know,” he murmured in those husky tones that were quickly making it difficult to remember why she was crying or hurt at all. “I’m here while you cry.”
That was it. The flood gates opened, and a horrible racking sob tore out of her chest as she curled into a man she didn’t know and couldn’t be sure she could trust. Did it matter? Did she care?
No.
He’d saved her life and brought news of Vincent from beyond the grave.
It could be some cruel hoax put into play by Shawn, but Wraith’s arms felt too good. Too strong to be anything but what he claimed to be. She knew the difference between types of men. She’d actively sought out the assholes since Vincent’s death. Wraith was one of the good guys, even if he was dead. The thought only made her cry harder.
And Wraith was there.
It had been so long since she’d allow anyone to give her comfort while she cried; it had been so long since anyone had offered it.
But he was there. On the eve of Vincent’s twenty-eight birthday, there was someone here to stop the train wreck that always happened. He was someone to absolve her of guilt. She tightened her body against his, needing the solidness he offered, and something else.
She wasn’t ready to give Vincent up—ever—but she was ready to feel something other than pain. She wiped her tears and sniffled a few times before she tilted her face up to the outline of strong features, even in the dark. “How do you know Vincent won’t mind?” she whispered. It was probably wrong, but everything she’d done since Vincent’s death had been wrong. Maybe, just once, she needed to do something that felt right.
Wraith’s strong hand cupped the side of her face. Soft scruff brushed the side of her face, and his melting voice was a whisper against her cheek. “Because I asked him.”
Did she believe? Or was this her own imagination trying to pull her out of what might finally be a deadly tailspin? It didn’t matter. She was feeling things again she hadn’t felt in a decade, and she wasn’t ready to give them up. She could feel guilty again in the morning. Right now, she wanted Wraith to make good on his promise to take away the nightmare for a night.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, knowing she could lose herself to another dead man.
Chapter 9
Guilt was a bitch. Vincent wished he could shove it aside and do exactly what his body craved, but it wasn’t fair to Bryna. He pressed his cheek against hers. “Damn it,” he growled in soft tones. “Conscience wasn’t supposed to enter into this.”
She made a chirping sound of half laughter and half mortification. “But I thought you wanted to.”
“I do, trust me,” and there was real pain in his voice because he was sure his cock was going to explode out of his pants. “But I am supposed to be helping you, not taking advantage of a vulnerable moment.” Not to mention he’d done that the last time and she’d still died.
“This sucks,” she said with another sniffle. “I really need you right now.”
“No,” he said in a tone as neutral as he could make it. “You want Vincent. I’m not him an—” He bit his tongue to keep from saying anymore, but she’d picked up the slip anyway.
“What were you going to say?”
“Sleep. I promise I will make sure your author has the fear of God instilled into him for tarnishing your memory of Vincent.” There, that had to do it.
She snorted, but didn’t move away from his embrace. “Thanks, and I’ll hold you to that, but what were you going to say? You’re not him, duh, but what else were you going to say?”
“Anyway. I’m not him anyway.”
“Liar,” she accused.
“You’re ruining the anonymous savior,” he chided gently. “You need rest. A living body needs all the care you can give it to be healthy and strong.”
She twisted and shifted around until she was situated on top of him with her body curled up on his lap and her head tucked up under his chin. “Fine. Be that way, but if I still want to in the morning, I won’t be happy with rejection a second time.”
Ouch. Damn it! Why did she always have to know the right words to cut into him? “Sex is cumbersome with a cloak and hood.”
She let out a soft sigh and relaxed against him. “Then when it gets dark again—if I live that long.”
“You’re trying to twist my brain,” he accused. “Bryna, please, I only have so much nobility before my true self shines through.”
“Just my luck,” she muttered. “A guy who might actually not be a creep, and not only is he dead, but he also can’t have mindless sex.”
He couldn’t help the quite laugh. He probably shouldn’t have, but it was either laugh at it, or become angry. She wouldn’t understand a tantrum of epic proportions. “You’ll have to live with it,” he said in his most noble tone. “At least for tonight.”
Then she petted her hand down his chest and settled in as he lay back. “That’s better. I might not know how to act with a guy who might really care.”
“I’m going to stop talking now,” he said without thinking about it. “Sleep, sunshine.”
She stiffened for a moment, and then relaxed again. “What color is your hair?”
“Black. Go to sleep.” It was a stall tactic he knew, and he wasn’t going to fall for it.
“What about your eyes?”
“Brown. Sleep.”
“Light or dark.”
“Light,” he growled. “Sleep!”
She laughed softly and snuggled in. “Then stop answering questions. How tall are you?”
“Sleep!”
“Please? Just one little height?”
“Bryna!”
“Night, Wraith,” she whispered and then yawned and lay quiet against him. It took a few more moments before her breathing evened into an easy, sleeping rhythm.
Great. Wasn’t he just an epic moron? Not only was he in need of the hottest woman known to man, but he’d stopped the whole phenomenal experience from happening. He was stuck here for the next eight hours with her lightly moving against him while she slept. Her delectable little body was pressed in tightly against his, and with the way she moved and moaned in her sleep, he knew she wasn’t dreaming of his death. No, she wasn’t dreaming of Vincent at all. She was dreaming of hot, grinding sex with Wraith. Damn it. It was pathetic to be jealous of himself—in a dream, no less—but he was.
* * * *
Bryna came slowly awake as she ground her hips against the heat of a male body. Sometime during the night, his hand had slipped up under her shirt, and his nimble fingers massaged along her spine. So many times she’d remembered waking up in this exact state. The musk of the man beside her brought the past into the present.
“Vincent?” Her eyes fluttered open in the pre-dawn hours. A faint touch of blue touched the dark sky outside the window. His hand stroked tingles along her spine. She moaned with need and shifted up, straddling herself over top of him. A silly hood blocked his face from view, but his groan held desperation.
“You shouldn’t.”
Her bottom slid along his lap as she leaned forward and pushed down the hood. A smile bloomed. Where she’d been expecting nightmares, she found erotic fantasy. All night she’d tried to have this outcome, but each time she’d shoved back Wraith’s hood, the man under her wasn’t the man she wanted.