Skin Trade(161)

“I don’t know.” And that was the truth. It scared me enough that I started taking my weapons off and dropping them on the ground. I called back, “Edward, get them after we’re in the car.”

“Done,” he said.

I slipped the vest off last, and once its weight was removed, it was as if I could breathe better. My skin was running with heat, as if I’d burn when touched. Some lycanthropes spike a temperature before they shift.

“Anita,” Wicked’s voice said from much closer.

I opened my eyes and he was standing in front of me. This close the light fell full upon him, and I could see every line, curve, of his face. I could stare into those silvered eyes. Staring full into that face, inches from his body, and my gaze dropped to his neck, where the collar and tie kept it safe and neat. I stared at the side of his neck and searched for that pulse, but the skin was quiet. His heart didn’t beat. I stepped back; this wasn’t right. This wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted something… hot.

I turned back to the house, the porch, the warmth. He grabbed my arm, pulled me hard in against his body. Something about the abruptness of it, the strength of it, startled me. I could think for a second. “Get me away from them, Wicked. Take me somewhere. Make me think of sex and not meat.” I put my hands in the front of that button-down shirt and pulled, sending the middle buttons flying. I tore at his shirt until I could wrap my arms around his naked skin. The touch of that much muscled flesh helped me think of other things than what the blood in my friend’s veins would taste like.

“Your skin runs hot tonight.” He wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting me off the ground, and my arms slid to a part of his chest too wide for me to encircle. The next moment we were skyward. I felt the force of it like a solid push of something invisible against the ground, and my feet dangled in empty air.

Fear helped clear my head and tone down the hungers. I’d never flown by vampire, and I found that my fear of flying worked just fine this way, maybe worse than on a plane. I dug fingers into the shirt I’d ripped, hanging on for dear life. My pulse was choking me, and a scream bubbled in my throat. I pressed my face to his bare chest and fought that awful, perverse urge to look down.

I finally lost the fight, and did it. The desert stretched under us like some moving carpet. It wasn’t as far down as I’d feared. I’d pictured tiny cars and toy houses, but we weren’t that far up. Far enough that if he dropped me, I might only be crippled for life, not dead. Not a good thought. Then I realized the ground was getting closer.

“It’s hard to land when you’re carrying someone,” Wicked said, his voice rumbling up through his chest and against my ear. “I’ll roll to take the momentum.”

“What?” I asked.

“Keep your arms where they are,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”

The ground was coming very fast now, and I had seconds to decide what to do. I started to wrap my legs around him, but he said, “Don’t tangle my legs!”

I stopped, but it left me with only my fear, and seconds to decide what to do with it. I closed my eyes to the rushing ground and held on to him.

I felt the jolt as his feet hit ground, and then he was rolling forward, letting the momentum carry us down and over. We ended on the ground, on our sides, with his arms wrapped around me, so that he took the impact. I lay there, trying to relearn how to breathe, wrapped in his arms, trapped against his body.

“Anita, are you all right?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer it, but managed, “Yeah, yes.” My voice sounded breathy and scared.

He eased off me, drawing away until he could look down at me. He studied my face, then smiled and laid his big hand against my face. “It has been a long time since I did that. I’m out of practice.”

“Most vampires can’t carry someone,” I said, still in that frightened voice.

“I told you, Truth and I are very good at flying.” He smiled again, and this time I knew what kind of smile it was. It helped that he leaned in toward me.

I stopped him with a hand on his chest. “I don’t think I need to feed the ardeur now. You’ve scared it out of me.”

He laughed, a deep masculine sound. Everything about him and his brother was so male. I tended to like my men with a little more feminine energy to them, but it was still a good laugh.

“Your skin is still hot to the touch, as if you’re running a fever. Whatever happened back at the house has not left you. When the fear fades, the hunger will return.” His face sobered. “You need to feed before that happens again, Anita.”