Blood and Lace: Chapter 20

 Nicholas's quiet words disarmed her utterly. They found their way into her very core and became radiant, warming her heart the way his enclosing fingers warmed her hand. A strange hope was blossoming within her, so strong that her breath caught.

“Uh oh. One moment.” Nicholas quickly got off the couch and ran into the kitchen. He returned a moment later with a handful of tissues and offered them to her.

“Why?” She blinked. “Oh gods…” Della quickly took a tissue and dabbed at her eyes, looking at the small droplets of red. “You should know…I’m not in the habit of crying, Nicholas. This is…embarrassing.”

“I think what you’ve been through justifies a few tears.” He gave her an incredulous smile. “I mean…you just gave an incredible defense of the importance of emotions like sadness. How could it shame you to cry? Plus, no offense, but those tears? Amateur hour. I can put on E.T. and show you how it’s done. I’ll be sobbing like a child in no time.”

She gave a quiet snort of amusement. “You are a strange and silly man.” And sweet, and kind, and dangerous for all the right reasons.

“As a reminder, this strange and silly man still hasn’t heard about your disastrous kissing experiment.”

“I suppose not. Well, after everything…happened, I was determined to enjoy culture again. So I started going to the theater, movies, museums—I developed a passion for architecture that I still have—and I grew…curious about human affection.” She gave him a rueful look. “I had always been somewhat fascinated. Before becoming a vampire I recall being a rather sentimental girl. But it was understood—” She broke off as a new sensation played over her skin. She stared at the cushion between them, watching Nicholas’s index finger lazily tracing figure eights on the back of her hand.

He froze, then pulled his arm back. “Sorry. I wasn't thinking.”

For the second time in as many days, her appetite stirred. She still wasn't hungry though…was she? “It’s all right,” she murmured aloud. 

“So it was understood…” he prompted.

 She blinked. “It was understood by my brethren that human-style relationships don't work for vampires. We tend to be calculating, and many embrace the dampening of emotions. For us, ‘trust’ tends to replace ‘love’ as the primary facet of a relationship.”

Nicholas looked stricken. “I had no idea. Does that mean all my talk about trust—”

“You’re a human,” she reassured him, “I never took it that way. Besides, you’ve already made your romantic interest clear…do you recall your formal courtship application in this very room?”

He groaned and covered his eyes. “That’s going to haunt me right before I fall asleep for years. Please talk about your botched kissing session and take the spotlight off me.”

She raised a shoulder dismissively. “There’s not much to tell.” There was, but she was too exhausted to speak of it tonight. “I asked Drus to kiss me as an experiment. I suppose ‘making out’ would be a better description. It was a last-ditch effort to save what passed for our relationship. I thought it would be fun, even if nothing came of it.”

“Drus again,” he frowned. “Let me guess: not fun?”

Della swallowed and stared at her lap. “It wasn't. He humored me the first time, but I pushed to try again, remembering how difficult it was to reawaken my emotions. I thought maybe it required practice. The second time…ended in mockery.”

Beside her, Nichola's shifted restlessly. His jaw was clenched.

“I remember him suggesting I use the Mask.”

“Mask?”

“You’ve seen it. It's what lets us feign human behaviors,” she said. “How did Drus put it? ‘You might try imitating someone who actually knows how to kiss.’ ” Della looked away as a telltale flash of heat warmed the sides of her face. Gods…why was this so hard? It had been almost a century! She straightened her posture and continued in a firmer voice. “He finally accused me of being a fool for ‘aspiring to rut like a sheep.’ He…called me weak. It was his favorite insult.” She restively flicked non-existent lint from her shirt sleeve. “That ended the experiment and, as I’m sure you’ve deduced, our relationship.” 

“Good.” The sharpness of his response made her look at him. His expression was…captivating. Nicholas’s brows were drawn down and his mouth was set in a hard line. But his eyes were smoldering with a heady mix of compassion and fury. Would she ever become accustomed to the way his face openly displayed his thoughts? She hoped not. It was exhilarating.

“You must understand,” Della tried to explain, “Drus was somewhat legendary in vampire society. He was”—and is—“much older than me. In hindsight, it was clear that the version I met was a pale shadow of his former self. But sometimes we see what we want to.”

“Della, I pride myself on being Mr. Understanding, but seriously, fuck that guy.” His lips twisted in disgust. “Your ex sounds like a Grade-A piece of shit, not to mention a lousy kisser. Maybe I would be more forgiving if I wasn’t, you know, close to the situation…” He considered it. “…nope. Not gonna happen. There's no possible excuse for the way he treated you. Case closed. Drus can fuck off and kiss the sun.”

 The rush of his words sent tingles across her skin. She regarded him warmly. “My friends have often said the same, but not with such…passion. Thank you, Nicholas.”

He leaned closer, his gaze unwavering. “You’re welcome. That’s the magic ingredient, by the way. In a good kiss.”

“Passion?” Not for the last time, she found herself mesmerized by the depth in his eyes.

“Emotion,” he answered. Her skin whispered to life as his thumb found the back of her hand again. “Look, I don’t know if there’s a physical change that prevents vampires from enjoying human intimacy. It’s certainly possible. But without a heart, kissing is just mashing faces. And it takes two hearts.” In a deliberate motion, he shifted forward again, his thigh brushing hers. “You can hear how crazy my heart is going for you, and I know that you’ve kept yours safe…”

“Nicholas,” she whispered. He was so warm. She could feel the heat of his leg pressing against her, and the heat of his eyes melting through her reflexive defenses.

“It’s been a hundred years, Della…how about another kiss—this time with feeling?”

Her heart began to beat faster. “I would like to try,” she admitted, “but I’m nervous.”

“Tell me what you're worried about.”

“Feeling nothing. Being disappointed.” She frowned. “Disappointing you.”

“You won’t disappoint me,” he said, “even if kissing me is like smooching cardboard.”

His words brought an amused smile to her face, but uncertainty quickly erased it. She wanted to believe him, but memories of Drus continued to haunt the passages of her mind. “Truly?” she asked.

Nicholas smiled and held out his hand. It was trembling faintly—she wasn’t the only one who was anxious. Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his. His fingers closed over it and his thumb started to roam once more over sensitive skin. “Truly. If that’s the way things are, there’s no sense in taking it personally. It would just mean having a different conversation. But I hope you’ll give me at least a few chances to get it right?” He winked.

She gave a short, breathy laugh. How good this human was at disarming her. “You will recall,” she said primly, “I am not averse to practice.”

“In that case, we’re back at the very first question.” He stared at her intently, his eyes dark under the shadow of his brow. “May I kiss you?”

She nodded faintly, throat too constricted to talk.

He smiled, a hint of playfulness in his expression. With a graceful gesture he lifted her arm and brought his warm lips against the back of her hand. It had a curious effect on her, making her heart beat faster even as some of her fear evaporated. “One,” he intoned, then gave her an apologetic glance. “The first kiss was bound to be a let-down after a century of waiting, so I cheated.”

“Zero,” she corrected, surprised at the husky tone in her voice. “That sort of kiss is courtesy, not courting.”

“So it’s okay for you to say ‘courting,’ but not me? Unfair. Also, you’re a real stickler on kiss protocol. We’ll call that one a practice swing.” She knew he was being extra impish to set her at ease, and thank the gods, it was working. “Here, lean forward.” 

He tugged her up gently from the back of the couch and shifted her until she was facing him with one leg resting on the cushion. With the same firm grip he pulled her forward until their faces were inches apart. His scent, a potent combination of aftershave, human male, and blood, surrounded her. He reached up with his free hand and caressed her cheek.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed. She did so, enjoying how his presence remained tangible by sheer proximity. “I’m going to start slow, okay? Don’t kiss me back yet. Just…get used to me.” Her brow furrowed, but she nodded.

His lips, feather-light, touched the corner of her mouth.

Della’s senses lit up like a fireworks display. It was as if her body was preparing to fight, and yet she felt no urge to stop what Nicholas was doing. He moved along her mouth, planting delicate kisses, each one lighting a small blaze in her heightened awareness. Without thinking she darted forward, kissing him back a single time. Hearing his breath catch was gratifying.

“Quick study,” he exhaled, pulling back. “I take it this isn’t bad?”

“Keep going,” she urged, “I’m trying to decide.”

He leaned back in, and this time his kisses were firmer, moving her lips with his own. Increasingly, she kissed him back, enjoying the sensation, but also the awareness of his growing excitement. The hand on her cheek slid around to the back of her head. She reciprocated, running her own hand into the bristly hair at the base of his neck. Experimentally, she nibbled on his bottom lip and he groaned, which filled her with a different kind of excitement, one she couldn’t quite process. He pulled away, a look of bemused wonder on his face.

“You haven’t kissed anyone in a century?” he asked. She shook her head. “Della…I think you’re a natural.” 

She smiled, pleased at his genuine admiration. “Perhaps you’re an exceptional tutor,” she said demurely.

“Could be,” he said. “Let’s try some advanced techniques.”

They came together in mutual enthusiasm. This was working far better than she could have hoped. She didn’t know if this…experiment…could go much further, but she knew she liked kissing Nicholas. Then she felt his tongue delicately swipe her lips and an unbidden image erupted from within. Drus leaning over her, forcing her mouth open in violent mockery…

Della wrenched back, gasping. Then she noticed her fingers clutching his shoulders. She splayed her hands wide. “Did I hurt you? Are you well? I didn’t—”

“Della.” His voice was calm and—most importantly—free of strain. “I’m fine. You didn’t lose control.” He cocked his head. “What happened?”

She grabbed her arms and looked up at the ceiling, waiting for her breathing to settle. “Bad memories. I wasn’t prepared.”

“It’s perfectly all right,” he said in the same soothing tone. “We’ve made excellent progress for one night.” He favored her with a crooked smile. “Honestly, that’s an understatement. Do you want to stop?”

Della met Nicholas’s gaze and saw his concern burning away the desire from before. It wasn’t fair. Even here, Drus had found a way to take something special from her. “No,” she heard herself saying. Nicholas raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I don’t want to end like this,” she explained. “Please don’t stop. Just…be patient.”

The concern transmuted into a tenderness that was infinitely preferable. He brushed a stray lock of her hair behind one ear. “I have an idea,” he said. “This bad memory…did it happen when you were sitting like this?”

“I was…laying on a couch.”

He pursed his lips. “Was the lighting dim?” She nodded. “Okay. Let’s not give your anxiety any more ammo then.” He stood up. “Join me in the kitchen.”

Bemused, she followed him into the small, brightly lit space. As soon as she was in the center of the room he spun around and caught her up into a hug that pressed them both tightly together. She made a noise.

“You squeaked,” he observed.

“I have never, in my long life, squeaked.” Della lay her arms atop his, running her fingers against the base of his neck. She was growing used to his higher body temperature. It felt like the closest she would come to basking in the sun.

“Agree to disagree.” He placed his palms along her hips and guided her back until she was pressed against the counter. Then his arms encircled her once more. He leaned his head down and nuzzled the side of her face. “I want you to think about me, Della,” he whispered in her ear. The closeness of his breath made her shiver. “Think about me. Remember me. I’m the one who’s with you. Kissing you. Me, no one else.”

Was that a thread of possessiveness she detected? Strange that it should be more appealing than irritating—perhaps because he wasn’t laying a claim like a vampire would, but simply expressing an emotional desire. So she followed his lead, pulled him closer, and inhaled his essence as he ran his tongue along her ear.

Drus isn’t here. It’s you, my strange hunter, only you.

His intoxicating smell, and the heavenly scent of his blood running underneath, woke her appetite fully. She yearned to sink her teeth into his neck and drink the ambrosia in his veins, but she resisted. Part of her knew that she wasn’t truly hungry, that Nicholas had simply triggered this state, but she chose to welcome it—this was one desire she fully understood.

Nicholas faced her again, and she saw a flicker of surprise. What—oh. Her fangs were extended. She hadn’t noticed them in the disorienting swirl of competing feelings. Would he be disgusted? Disappointed? 

“It’s your smell,” she tried to explain. “It’s…unique. I didn't—” She fell silent as his mouth turned up in a positively wicked grin. He tilted his head and captured her lips again. She was too overwhelmed for conscious thought after that, lost in the emotion and power of the moment. This time, when his tongue teased along her lips, she opened to allow it in. He tasted her. They tasted each other. She grabbed the sides of his face, deepening the kiss.

Then, with a motion she realized was quite deliberate, Nicholas pricked his tongue on one of her fangs. 

The blood tie opened between them in a conduit of bliss and they both moaned at the same time. Her saliva closed the small wound almost instantly, but the taste and euphoria lingered, until Della could no longer tell whether it was the blood or Nicholas she was deriving pleasure from.

Finally, with both of them sated—and Nicholas breathless—they parted.

“You cheated,” she said, but her voice held more wonder than accusation.

“A courting gentleman always takes the lady’s preferences into account.” The words were delivered easily, but the wild look in his eyes made her effect on him clear. “I think that’s a much better stopping point for this lesson,” he breathed.

“Yes.” Her head was still spinning, trying to understand the physical cues their kissing had inspired.

 “Della…I would like to suggest a future topic,” he said slowly, “if you’ll permit me to take one final liberty?” Puzzled, and feeling a touch of trepidation, she nodded. 

Nicholas reached up, and carefully cupped her breast through her shirt. She started to pull away, but for once her propriety was no match for her curiosity, and there was something else…something she had no word for. She watched, rapt, as his thumb gently rubbed her through the fabric. A thread of pleasure, both undeniable and unfamiliar, pulsed through her frame. A small sound escaped the back of her throat.

He stared at her, his eyes hooded and filled with unmistakable desire. “I noticed while we were kissing,” he said, his voice pleasingly ragged. “Your nipples are hard.” He let go and stepped back, and she noticed her anatomy wasn’t the only one…visibly affected.

That sent another thrill of response through her body. Her heart pounded with the undeniable realization. She was physically aroused. Like a human. And the human hunter in front of her was the cause.