Fangs But No Fangs

CHAPTER 16

Jolee didn't believe it was possible for something so wonderful to turn horrendous in mere seconds. She covered her bared breasts, searching frantically for her T-shirt, which was in a clump right beside her. With one arm still shielding her breasts, she snatched it up. The material, sopping wet from the rain, remained in a clinging ball. A broken, frustrated cry escaped her as she struggled with the stupid thing, shaking it with one hand, trying to straighten the sticking cotton.

Christian caught her hand, gently stopping her frenzied struggle. She jerked her hand out of his loose grip, but also let the knotted shirt plop back to the hood. Refusing to meet his gaze, she tried to decide what to do, what to say. She was such a fool.

She recoiled as something damp but warm settled over her shoulders, and she realized Christian had taken off his own shirt and placed it around her shoulders. She started to shrug the garment off, but then thought better of the idea. Her pride was not worth remaining naked.

She slid down from the hood, turned her back to him, and fastened her bra. The wet cotton chafed her still sensitive nipples, another reminder of what she'd just done. She was a thousand different kinds of fool. Maybe more.

With trembling hands, she struggled with the buttons of his shirt. Then his hands were on her shoulders, trying to turn her to face him. She pulled away, still not looking at him. She couldn't. She didn't want to see the beautiful face that had so easily sweet-talked her. She'd really believed he was being honest with her. That he wanted a relationship—with her. She never would have let things get that out of control if she believed otherwise. Damn it.

She gave up on the buttons and clutched the front closed with her hand. On unsteady legs, she found her tote in a puddle where she must have dropped it when he'd first kissed her. Rain had soaked the top and mud seeped through the bottom.

"Great," she muttered. She slung the ruined bag onto her shoulder, this time not the least bit worried about his expensive shirt, and started shakily toward the road.

"Jolee," he called, his voice low and filled with worry. His deceptive voice.

She heard his feet splashing in the puddles as he followed her.

"Please, wait."

"No."

"You can't walk in this weather."

She laughed, the sound brittle. "Well, you didn't think the weather was too much of an issue few minutes ago."

She continued toward the road. Suddenly her legs, which were still wobbly, came out from under her, although it was with the help of Christian. He scooped her up as if she weighed nothing at all and strode back to his car.

She struggled, kicking her legs, pushing at his chest.

"Put me down!"

He acted as if he didn't even hear her. She shoved his chest with all her might, but he didn't even seem to notice. With shocking ease, he held her, opened his car door, and placed her inside. Even in her fury, she couldn't help being a little impressed by that kind of strength.

"Stay there," he warned, then closed the door. She debated getting out and running. But what would be the point? He'd probably just catch her again. No, she'd sit here quietly and get a ride home. Just as she should have earlier. She never should have listened to him.

He came around to the driver's side and slid in. He didn't say a word as he started the car's engine and sped out of the parking lot, gravel grinding under the wheels.

Within minutes, he pulled up to her trailer. Before the car had even come to a full stop, she opened the door and jumped out, racing up her steps and into the trailer. She locked the door, then crossed into the living room, her breaths coming in shallow puffs as she tried to calm down. Tears burned her eyes, and she blinked to keep them at bay. She would not cry about this. This would not be the thing that finally broke her. He wasn't worth her tears.

And as angry as she was with him, she was angrier with herself. She was so, so stupid. The episode in the parking lot had been as much her fault as his. She'd been the one who kissed him again. The one who trusted him. Trusted him, even after he'd told her straight out that he had nothing to give a relationship.

He'd told her he'd been hurt. And it wasn't as though she hadn't already deduced there must have been another woman. She had even wondered if there was still another woman. Well, there obviously was— Lilah. And it didn't much matter if she was a had been or a still was. If he was calling out her name when he was with another woman, Lilah was still very much in Christian's mind.

A sharp rap sounded on the door. She didn't move, didn't look toward the sound. It was Christian, of course, and she didn't want to talk to him. Not now. Likely never.

He pounded again, this time the thin particle board shaking under his resolve. Still she didn't move.

Not until the rattle of the doorknob did she realize that the stupid lock probably wouldn't hold. She spun around, ready to grab a chair and wedge the back under the handle, but Christian was already in the room. He stood only a few feet away from her, and she wondered at his speed. She hadn't even heard him open and close the door, yet here he was in her living room.

"Leave."

He shook his head. "No. We have to talk."

"I don't see any point. Please just go."

He crossed his arms over his chest.

"That damned lock," she muttered.

"You need a new one," he agreed automatically, then added, "Although I would have kicked the door in anyway."

She didn't doubt his words. The idea that he would do such a thing should have scared her, but it didn't. Scared or not, she didn't want him here.

"Christian, I can't do this. I don't want to do this. I just want to go back to before I met you."

"I want that, too. But it isn't going to happen."

She knew he was right, of course.

"But I can start forgetting you now," she said. "Tonight. Please, please just go."

She knew she was pleading, but it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered to her right now was getting him out of her sight. She couldn't look at him. She couldn't think about how she'd reacted to his touch. How easily she'd given herself over to him. While he was imagining another woman.

"I can't leave," he told her flatly. "I can't leave you hurting. Not because of me."

"I'll be fine," she assured him, amazed at her sudden bravado, especially since, on the inside, she felt like curling up and dying. "You can't change what happened. And you can't change the fact that I was a fool and believed that you could give me something that you yourself said you couldn't. We just need to stop this, now."

He nodded, and for just a moment she thought he was agreeing to leave, and to leave her alone. Instead of triumph, she just felt more miserable.

But he didn't leave. His gaze roamed around the room as if he was searching for something. Finally his eyes stopped on her.

"I met Lilah a long time ago."

Jolee opened her mouth to tell him she didn't care. She didn't want to hear, but she couldn't bring herself to say a word. She did want to know.

"She was beautiful and charming and seductive, and I fell for her the first moment I spoke to her. And she seemed to feel the same way."

Despite her hurt and anger, she didn't doubt it. There was something about this man that was so captivating, so alluring, and it went beyond his stunning good looks.

"I believed she was the love of my life, my soul mate."

Jolee's heart twisted in her chest, amazed that she could feel this much pain about the fact he had loved another woman. She had no reason to feel so hurt— it wasn't as if they were in love. But she couldn't help wondering what it would feel like to be loved by this man. As he said, to be the love of his life, his soul mate.

"My family didn't accept her," he said, his expression faraway and troubled. "My oldest brother, Rhys, specifically tried to tell me that she wasn't what I thought. That she didn't love me. I didn't listen. I just cut them off. I wouldn't allow anyone to come between me and Lilah. We were destined to be together, and in my mind, everyone was just jealous of what we had."

He laughed then, a cold, low laugh that made her shiver. "Jealous of what we had. It wasn't until too late that I realized we had nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Despite herself, Jolee asked, "What happened?"

Christian didn't know how to answer that question. He couldn't tell Jolee about all the horrible things he had done at Lilah's bidding. All the pain he'd inflicted, because that pleased her. Excited her. The times he'd bitten mortals, violently, brutally, just to arouse her. Blood was the only thing that did excite her, and she loved to watch his attacks. In his madness to keep her pleased, he gratified her as she asked. Through bloodletting, through biting. And her appetite for both were boundless.

Love through vicious cruelty. Why hadn't he seen then what she was? Why couldn't he have seen the truth sooner? Before what he'd done to Jane— and to his brother. His brother.

Christian forced his attention to Jolee. To this slender mortal with dark, sad eyes and lush lips who was just beginning to remind him of everything that was good and showing him again that passion didn't have to hurt. That arousal didn't wound. That satisfaction didn't have to end in pain. He couldn't lose Jolee. He knew she was somehow tied to his redemption. He had to have her forgiveness. Just a little forgiveness for all he'd done wrong.

"My family was right. Lilah didn't love me. She was a cruel, vindictive creature who wanted nothing more than to control and manipulate."

Jolee considered him for a moment, then she tilted her head, an unconvinced look in her eyes. "Well, plenty of people continue to love terrible people."

"I hate her." And he realized the statement was true. There was not an ounce of love left in him. Even the strange emptiness that he attributed to her being gone no longer niggled at him.

"There is a fine line between love and hate," Jolee said.

"I agree. And I mistook hate for love for too many years. I won't ever do that again."

"Then why?" Jolee gave him a pained look. "Why did you call out her name?"

He'd called out because the sensation of Jolee's release and the feeling of her teeth on his neck at the same time had made him think, for just an instant, that Lilah was back. For two hundred years, he had not experienced one without the other. Release and violence went together, because not only did Lilah like to watch biting, she liked to bite herself. Christian had been her favorite toy to ravage in her lust. Vicious, sadistic bites that made him wonder now how she hadn't killed him.

What had he been thinking? He hadn't. He'd been a mindless puppet, desperate for Lilah's affection— willing to do anything she asked. But how did he explain that to Jolee?

He decided to stick as close to the truth as he could. "Lilah used to bite my neck when she'd orgasm. When I felt your teeth, I panicked. It was like suddenly Lilah was back. I'm sorry."

She eyes widened at his explanation. She obviously found his words a little odd. Okay, more than a little odd.

"She bit you?"

He nodded.

"Like bit, bit."

He nodded again.

"As in to hurt you?"

She cringed when he nodded.

"Our relationship was not normal," he said.

Jolee raised her eyebrows at his flatly stated words. What else had this woman done to him? The idea that a woman had physically, as well as emotionally, hurt him made her ill. How could someone do that? And no wonder he acted so peculiar at times. That had to be very hard for a man to admit, especially one as strong and proud as Christian.

"Did she… take pleasure from hurting you?"

"Yes."

Again, a sick feeling filled her. Her eyes roamed over his chest and arms, looking for signs of this woman's brutality, but his golden skin was perfect. But she didn't doubt his words. She knew that some people did enjoy such things, although she couldn't imagine why. Then again, maybe he enjoyed that sort of thing, too.

No, she decided, looking at his almost angelic face. He'd never been anything but gentle with her. When he'd been making love to her, his touches had been excited, passionate, but always tender.

She still felt she had to ask. "Did you like it?"

He shook his head. "Now, I realize that I didn't. But at the time I was so entranced by her, I would have agreed to anything she wanted. I did agree."

Again, Jolee thought of all the women she'd known who did that very same thing, believing bad situations were acceptable, or could be fixed by love.

Protectiveness surged through her. She stepped closer to him. "I can understand now why you feel like you don't know how to have a relationship."

He stepped closer to her, too.

"I am a little out of practice with anything normal."

"Well, I'm not sure I can really help you with that," she admitted.

He gave her one of his half-smiles, and she wondered how devastatingly handsome he must be when he smiled fully. She hoped to find out one day.

"I think you have more idea about normal than I do," he said, then almost tentatively reached out to brush a damp strand of hair back from her cheek.

"Well, I'll tell you what. Let's start again. Maybe if we take it slow and work together, we can figure this whole relationship thing out." She smiled at him, suddenly sure that was exactly what she wanted.

Extreme, knee-weakening relief washed through Christian. "I'd like that."

He still didn't know exactly what he could offer her, but he had to be near her. He would think about how to end things when he had to, but until that time he just wanted to glory in her. Thinking about his past with Lilah just made the need all the more powerful. He had to be with this mortal. She made him feel more human than all of his steps, all of his blog entries combined. He needed her goodness to erase Lilah's evilness. His own evilness.

"I know this might seem a little after the fact given you already gave me an orgasm on the hood of your car" — she blushed, her cheeks a rosy pink— "but I think we should go slower. You know, maybe date."

He frowned. Dating? Of course he'd heard of the convention, but he'd never done it. Well, maybe those carriage rides around Hyde Park were sort of dates. But what kind of date did Jolee expect?

"You've never dated?" She widened her eyes, obviously seeing his hesitation.

"No. I don't think so."

She shook her head, tempering her shocked look with a smile. "But you do know what a date is?"

"We go places together, and do things." He tried not to sound too lascivious on that last part.

She smiled, lifting one of her finely arched brows, indicating that he'd failed. "And we get to know each other."

Now, that sounded nice. He wanted to know everything about her. And he did want to take her somewhere special and treat her like the amazing woman she was, like he knew she'd never been treated. Although he didn't know where to take her in the middle of the night in Shady Fork. Now, in New York or London or Paris, there he could take her on a date.

"Would you like to go out on our first official date tomorrow?" she asked. "It's Sunday, so we have the night off."

He noted that not only did he still have Jolee, he still had a job. Something amazingly like happiness swelled in his chest.

He nodded. "What would you like to do?"

He knew what he'd like to do, but he stopped his gaze from wandering down her body, shrouded in his shirt.

"How about dinner?"

"Sure." He couldn't eat, but he'd love to watch her do so.

"Great. Let's meet at seven for a date."

"Let's make it eight. I'm really a lot better at night," he told her. For the briefest moment, guilt diluted the happiness in him. He couldn't be with her like a real man.

Then she laughed, drawing his full attention back to her. "Well, you know I'm a night person, too. Eight, it is."

He knew he shouldn't be ignoring his guilt, but he did.

He wanted this, and he'd make sure things worked out for both of them.