Fangs But No Fangs

CHAPTER 9

Jolee waited at the side of the road for Christian, feeling utterly stupid. Why had she hugged him? The embrace had been an impulse, and as soon as she'd wrapped her arms around him, she realized she shouldn't have. She liked the feeling of his hard chest against her breasts and the muscles of his shoulders under her fingertips. The brief touch had made her incredibly aware of everything about him, and she had practically ignited with desire.

Christian had looked uncomfortable with the gesture, too, but not because he wanted her. She was sure of that. He'd said he wanted to be friends. Not have her throw herself at him.

Although the hug was meant in no way to be a come-on. She'd just felt happy that he'd been there tonight. That he didn't seem to believe Mark's hateful words, and he'd felt strongly enough about her to stop them.

A warm hum joined the lingering low burn in her belly. Having a champion was so novel to her. She could defend herself. She'd done so for years, but tonight she hadn't had the energy for Mark's attack. She was sore and tired and emotionally worn out. And Christian had been there.

He started up the path. She noted the sheep, in the distance behind him. They were bleating and running in the opposite direction from them, but she didn't give their behavior much thought. She was far more worried about what Christian was thinking than what the sheep were.

As he approached, she couldn't tell his thoughts. The darkness shadowed his face, but she knew bright sunlight wouldn't have helped. She was sure his poker face was back in place.

Neither spoke as they started down the road toward the trailer park. After a few steps, he changed positions, shifting to her other side so that he was on the outside, near the road. Being protective again, she realized. She didn't want to lose that. Not yet.

But still neither said a word until the silence threatened to suffocate her. She didn't want the night to end this way. She'd had too much stress, too much angst of late to let go of something nice in her life. And Christian's friendship would be nice. Her attraction to him was torture, but she could control that. She wouldn't let it ruin a friendship. She needed a friend more than a lover.

They turned into the trailer park, and she knew she had to say something. Part of her thought she should let the hugging incident go and talk about something completely different. But another part of her wasn't listening. That part appeared to be running her mouth.

"I hope you know that hug was only intended as a thank you."

"I know," he answered, his voice low and a little husky. He didn't look at her.

"Because I realize you just want to be friends. And that's what I want, too."

He didn't respond, which only spurred her on like a nervous, chattering schoolgirl.

"I wouldn't hit on you, because I know that you don't find me attractive and, well, I wouldn't hit on you anyway, because I'm really not like that. So—»

Christian stopped and caught her fingers, tugging her to face him. "I enjoyed your hug. And I know you only meant it to be a gesture of thanks."

Relief calmed the tightness in her chest. "I'm glad. I–I just don't want you to think that anything Mark said was true."

"I don't."

She smiled and suppressed the urge to hug him again. Talk about learning nothing from past mistakes. Instead she squeezed the hand that held hers.

"Good."

They continued on, their hands still linked as they strolled to their places. Neither seemed in a hurry to get there.

"Jolee."

"Hmm?" she responded, glancing at him.

In the light from their trailers, she could see the strange expression on his face. His pale eyes were intense as he pulled her to a stop and searched her face, scrutinizing each of her features.

He reached up and touched her cheek, his fingers cool against her skin. "I don't think you are unattractive."

"You don't?" She knew it was a rather inane response, but she was so distracted by his sudden touch, and what it was doing to her insides, the brief question was the best she could do.

"I don't," he murmured.

As if in slow motion, his head lowered. But not until his mouth met hers did she truly believe he was going to kiss her. She whimpered, startled by both the occurrence and how wonderful his lips felt pressed to hers, cool like his fingers but leaving fire in their wake as they moved, carefully, gently sampling her.

The kiss wasn't one of domination or uncontrollable passion. It was slow and gentle, even a little uncertain. But that didn't temper her response. If anything, his tentative caresses fired her desire far more than the wildest kiss. His mouth worshipped her as if he were touching something fragile and precious. She imagined him lavishing that same considerate attention on her whole body. Her toes curled in her sneakers.

She moaned, the sound vibrating between their lips. Then his mouth was gone. In fact, he broke all contact, his hand moving away from her cheek, his fingers releasing hers.

No, her body cried out. She didn't want to stop. Never had anything felt that perfect, that right. But instead of voicing her protest, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

Christian stood a few inches from her, his gaze not on her, but on the ground. His artfully messy hair shielded his face, making it impossible to see his reaction. Was he upset? Did he regret kissing her? Or was he as shaken by the perfection of the touch as she was?

"Christian?"

He stared at the ground a second more, and the muscles in his shoulders relaxed as though he was forcibly calming himself. Finally he raised his head. His eyes looked even more intense than usual and a little wild. The pallor of his skin was deathly pale, and his cheekbones and jawline appeared more pronounced.

"Are you all right?" she asked, taking a step toward him.

He looked away again.

"I have to go," he said. His voice sounded rough and deep, all his smoothly accented words gone.

"What's wrong?" She started to reach for him, but he jerked back as if her slightest touch would burn him.

"I can't talk now." He stumbled backward toward his trailer, all his usual grace gone.

"I will see you tomorrow," he added, almost as an afterthought.

She nodded, although she wanted to follow him and demand to know what was wrong. Really wrong. How could he go from kissing her so gently to looking like a half-crazed maniac?

He spun and bounded up his stairs, closing the door with a sharp bang behind him. She stayed in the middle of the road, dazed. What had just happened? She considered his paleness, his wild eyes, his sudden anxiety. She'd seen all those behaviors before.

No, she didn't want to go there. Especially not after he'd just given her the best kiss of her life. Not after she'd just reacted to him like she had no other man. But she'd known right along something had to be wrong with Christian. Very wrong for him to be here in Shady Fork. And she did know what those kinds of symptoms— paleness, acting crazy, and anxiety— meant. Vance had looked just the same way the other night.

She'd been stupid to forget. He might be beautiful. And often quite gallant. And very possibly the best kisser in the world. She also knew she'd been right about him. He had a problem. She just hadn't known exactly what the problem was. Her chest tightened and her throat felt like she couldn't pull in enough air as the truth hit her. And she absolutely knew what a drug problem looked like.

Christian paced back and forth in front of the window, his agitated movements hidden from her by the darkness of his trailer and sheer curtains. She remained in the road, staring at his trailer, bewilderment clear in her dark eyes. He continued to pace, trying to calm the need raging in him. Willing her to go into her trailer and take temptation out of his sight.

She finally climbed her steps and disappeared inside. But her absence didn't lessen his yearning. He ached with it, every muscle in him tense and throbbing. Why had he kissed her? He hadn't even realized his own purpose until his mouth was pressed to her lush, wide lips.

Since crossing over, he'd never had the inclination to kiss a mortal. He'd always believed vampires who seduced their victims by using kisses and caresses to be masochistic fools. Why bother to seduce, when he could just take what he wanted? So much more efficient.

Or were those Lilah's beliefs, and he just followed them without question because that was what he did? Good little lackey that he was.

Lilah believed that a vampire should only find sexual satisfaction with other vampires. They were superior to mortals by the virtue of their strength, abilities, and wisdom. They should not defile themselves by mating with a creature that was lesser. He'd believed her, not only because he did consider himself above mere mortals, which he had, but because that belief meant that she was his and his alone. She might have gone to others to feed, but she derived no real sexual pleasure from the experience; her love was his alone. Of course, that had been yet another falsehood he'd believed because he'd wanted to.

He spun again to stalk back across the room. His cock pulsed, rigid, insistent. His need and uneasiness weren't lessening. The memory of Jolee's soft, velvety lips against his, responding to him, caressing him in return, played vividly through his mind, over and over.

He couldn't recall a kiss ever being like that. Breathtaking pleasure created by the mere touching of mouths. Lilah only used her kisses as an enticement or a lure to get what she wanted. Kisses given with no warmth or gentleness, only manipulation and domination. At the time, Christian had found her calculating teases to be captivating. Now he couldn't recall why.

Jolee's sweet response and gentle surrender was infinitely more thrilling. A kiss accepted and returned purely out of enjoyment. He'd never experienced anything so magnificent. Her scent and heat clung to him, still brilliant and warm. Desire vibrated through him. He bit his lip, expecting his fangs to pierce it. They didn't. Instead, his cock pulsed against the restraint of his zipper.

He growled, disgusted with himself. What the hell was going on with him? He should be able to control the desire. With the hunger fed, he shouldn't have any reaction like this.

He went to the fridge and took out his last packet of blood. His meal for tomorrow night. He went to the drawer and grabbed a straw, stabbing the plastic. Blood rose up in the white tube, then drained back down. His cock seemed to mimic the action.

He drank, draining the small bag in mere moments. He waited. Waited for the blood to hit his system and calm him. But it didn't. His cock still strained, his body still ached.

"Shit!"

Something wasn't right. Had he rationed himself too long? That had to be it. If he was going to be around Jolee, he had to satisfy this need. He couldn't lose control and kiss her again. He couldn't have her thinking that he was interested in her in a romantic way. That was way beyond his knowledge. Even having a friendship with her was going to be a stretch. He hadn't exactly had much practice on that front.

But he was going to be her friend. She needed him, and in truth he needed her. Aside from the occasional erections, he had done all right being pseudo-human. If he fed more, he'd have total control again.

He had to find a solution to his attraction problem tonight. He considered going back to Mark and trying to feed from him. But he didn't think he could. Even if his body cooperated, the smell and greasiness of the man would be enough to nauseate him. He considered the sheep, but that was just too disturbing to be contemplated for more than a split second.

That left the hospital. He needed more blood. Drinking larger amounts didn't mean he'd destroyed his plan. After all, a bag wasn't alive. That was why he'd turned to the pouch in the first place. And just to prove he'd become a kinder and gentler vampire, he'd always taken the expired bags. And to think he'd once sent back wine for poor vintage. Now he was searching for the day-old blood. But he had to do what he had to do, and he couldn't risk acting unpredictably around Jolee, or worse, frightening her.

He needed more.

With that decision made, he waited for the hunger to flare again as it always did in the anticipation of being satisfied. Yearning still prodded him, but he didn't feel the great eagerness he'd expected. In fact he felt more drawn to see Jolee again than to feed. The rationing had affected his reactions as well as his preternatural abilities. That would explain the kiss. He'd been ravenous for Jolee, but because he couldn't feed from her, he'd… kissed her?

The explanation seemed a little far-fetched, but it was the only one he could find. He liked Jolee, that alone was a huge oddity, but to be attracted to her?

No, his reaction to her touch, to her lips, that was the hunger. And he planned to satisfy that. Tonight. Then he wouldn't see her as anything other than a nice mortal.

He grabbed his car keys. He really hoped the clerk with the squeaky white shoes and clipboard had been a blood donor.