Undead and Unwary Page 29

  “Yow! Teeth!”

  in Marc’s lap, then reached for my hand. “The queen and I will take our leave of you for the evening, if you please.” Not that he was really asking, mind you. “Marc, could I trouble you to let the darling girls

  Ugh.

  Shut up, darling girl.

  out within the hour? And perhaps a walk?”

  Marc flapped a hand in a “go along with your bad self, I’ve got it covered” wave, and I didn’t deny being impressed. Sinclair rarely delegated puppy time. Yay, he loved me more than the puppies! Suck it, puppies!

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  No sooner did Sinclair boot the door shut than he had me pressed against it, his lips kissing the hollow of my throat. I wanted to say something like, “Is that a stake in your pants or are you just happy to see me?” but managed a mere, “Nnnggn.” His fingers, meanwhile, had gone to the waistband of my leggings and he skimmed a finger just beneath it, caressing my belly. I wanted to lean into his mouth and his finger. I wanted to lean in, period. I wanted to knock his ass over and do filthy things to him. Alas.

  “Wait, wait.” I tried to wriggle free, which wasn’t easy, as at that moment Sinclair was more octopus than man. “I want to—I need to talk to you about Laura.”

  “What a vile mood killer,” was his reply, but he let me go.

  “Since everyone in the universe knew what Laura was up to before I did, that means you did, too.”

  “Don’t be silly, my own. Not everyone in the universe knew. How can you say that when you haven’t met everyone in the—”

  I cut that nonsense right off. When Sinclair wanted to avoid answering an uncomfortable line of inquiry, he seized on semantics. “Except you knew more. Everyone guessed she was lying, but you knew she had a plan to dump Hell on me.” This time his back was against the door while I kept him at arm’s length. Literally; I held my arms out and my fingers barely brushed his chest. “When did you know, how did you know, and why wouldn’t you of all people warn me?” I made no effort to keep the hurt out of my tone. If I couldn’t show all of me to my husband, and by extension the others, what was any of this for?

  He reached for me and, because he’d been blessed with longer arms, cupped my chin in the palm of his hand. His voice was slow, deep. “How could I tell you that you had been maneuvered and tricked by your own sister?”

  “Yeah, you’re the only one allowed to do that to me.” I tried to sound bitchy, but it choked off in the middle. In the beginning, our relationship had been based on trickery and mistrust. I was hypersensitive to it, even now, after he had proved again and again that I meant more to him than blood, more than his own life. “Isn’t that how it is?” I had no interest in crying. I hoped my emotions were taking note of that.

  He sighed, long and low. “How could I tell you what your own sister meant to do? That someone who was supposed to love you conspired with the author of all sin to trick you so you couldn’t get out of your own way?”

  I thought about that. “That answers why. How about when?”

  “Weeks ago. We met at church and I made some educated guesses she did not deny.”13

  The thought of the king of the vampires and the Antichrist having a kaffeeklatsch at the local Presbyterian church was hilarious or terrifying. Sinclair must have mistaken my look of confused horror as confusion, because he elaborated.

  “I warned her—”

  “Oh, please don’t say it.”

  “—to be careful what she wished for.”

  “And there it is. The After School Special lesson of the week. At least it wasn’t, ‘Keep off drugs and stay in school.’”

  “Pardon?”

  I shook my head. “Forget it. And all this time I thought you wanted to help me with Hell so you could run it.”

  “That is not necessarily off the table.”

  “Nice try, but you’re not as cold as you pretend sometimes. You wanted to help because you knew what was coming down on me.”

  “I suspected.”

  I snorted. “For you, pal, that’s the same as anyone else saying, ‘I knew and got it in writing and then got that notarized and, really, it was always bound to happen.’”

  “Do I have your forgiveness?” His thumb slid along my sluggish pulse point and then he kissed that same spot. “I was not strong enough to hurt you. I am deeply sorry you had to endure what you did without any assistance from me.”

  And that was it, the real reason. I had to do it myself to know I couldn’t do it myself. Sinclair waited until I made the connection, knew what I’d have to do, and then he backed me to the hilt.

  “I s’pose you’re forgiven. Too much of a pain to kill you and break in a new guy. Not that you’re broken in. Yet.”

  “Yes indeed.” He held both my wrists in his hands, then turned them over to kiss the palms. And then . . .

  And then he . . .

  Oh.

  I hadn’t even realized I’d broken the skin, but there were four little crescent-shaped cuts on each palm. In a week’s worth of outraged fist clenching, it was bound to happen. I’d have healed already, but for the fact that I hadn’t fed all week.

  Mmm. Speaking of . . .

  Sinclair was licking the blood from my palms, his steady gaze never leaving my face. I had a thought so dark with lust

  He’s tasting me, savoring me.

  my knees almost buckled.

  You are delicious, my own.

  “Clean living,” I said, and I absolutely did not gasp because I was in complete control and oh my God since when did my palm have a direct link to my clit? Did the bastard rewire me in my sleep?

  Some things will never be told. He was pulling my sweater over my head and sliding my leggings down my thighs to my ankles. A few tugs and I was also divested of bra, panties, and knee-high nylons (shut up, I wasn’t about to wear pantyhose under leggings). He pulled me in closer and the feeling of my bare skin pressed against his shirt and slacks was divine. His mouth was skimming my collarbone while a hand fisted in my hair, gently pulling my head back so he could nip and suck on my throat, his other hand sliding up to tease the undersides of my breasts. Sinclair had been the one to teach me that the undersides were a hundred times more sensitive to touch than the tops, which should give you an idea of the mediocre lovin’ I’d had until we met.

  “Too many clothes,” I managed as his knuckles skimmed up to my nipples, and then he was rubbing his thumbs over them, coaxing them to stiffness. “A stupid amount of clothes. Far too many items of clothing are between us. Why? Why would you get dressed today?”

  He chuckled and started unbuttoning his shirt. “To keep the respect of our boarders?”

  “Roommates,” I corrected, trying with all my might not to snicker. Boarders, heh. “Why? You’re still dressed, I don’t understand. Why would you hurt me like this? Get naked, my God, man! I can’t put it any plainer!”

  He was laughing so hard he staggered more than walked, and I decided enough was enough and helped him off with his shirt

  “Ouch! Buttons!”

  and pants, smiling at the clatter of buttons bouncing and his belt buckle hitting the floor. His slacks slithered down his legs and then I was yanking, and then one navy blue sock went flying, followed by the other. That left his navy boxers.

  “I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt and assuming you didn’t coordinate your socks with your underwear today.”

  “Your forbearance is sweeter than plum wine, darling.”

  Then we were finally finally finally horizontal, his weight pressing me into the bed, and just as I was readying a sarcastic reply his teeth broke the skin over my jugular and all I came up with was, “Nnnnn mmmm ggggnnn.” I would never understand the miracle of feeding with Sinclair. The blood between us was finite, but even as he drained me I felt stronger by the nanosecond.
And it would be the same for him when I pulled away and

  “Ah! Elizabeth, oh Christ!”

  returned the favor. His dark sweet blood filled my mouth and my nerve endings lit up like a casino.

  I slid my hand down and gently grasped his cock, already hard and urgent, and palmed the hot silky skin. My hand slid lower and I found his balls already trying to draw up—it had been a long time. Hours. Days! How were we even still functioning?

  He slid down my body, nipping and kissing as he went, his big hands easing my thighs apart as his thumbs found me wet, spread me open, and then his mouth was there, his tongue lapping at me and darting and teasing, in me and then out, delicately laving over my clit again and again and one of those damn sneaky stealth orgasms

  Fuck oh fuck oh God God God

  Yes. Yes. Louder, oh. Want to hear you I need it. Need to hear you.

  caught me by surprise and I arched against his mouth, my back leaving the bed for a few seconds.

  Then he was back up with me, his chest pressing against my breasts, his tongue sliding past my teeth and I tasted myself and our mingled blood and as his lovely long length filled me I

  GodGodGodGodGodGodGodGod.

  came again. He hissed in pure pleasure and started to move, carefully at first until I subtly signaled my desire for him to speed up by pressing my heels into the small of his back and

  Ow!

  urging him forward, faster, more. “Sorry,” I groaned. “Really don’t need you to take it easy right n—ah!” That was more like it.

  Oofta.

  Please stop thinking that singularly unsexy word.

  If you’ve got the brain power to use words like singularly, we are terrible at this.

  He laughed and kissed me, nipping my lower lip and flicking the bead of blood away with his tongue. His thrusts were getting steadily, wonderfully urgent and the friction buildup was outstanding.

  Do not leave me behind again. Take me to Hell with you.

  I had

  ???

  some thoughts

  Elizabeth?

  on that oh oh oh oh ha can’t sneak up on me again stealth orgasm this time oh oh oh oh I’m ready for oh oh oh oh

  ???

  I shrieked when I came, mostly because it was make noise or blow up. Sinclair hissed in my ear and I felt him throb and then pulse. His lips chased mine for another kiss and then he was groaning into my mouth

  OH GOOD CHRIST

  and shuddering against me, his joy in being able to break a commandment without feeling like he was gargling acid kicking one more gorgeous series of spasms through me.

  We collapsed. Well, he did; I was already flat on my back, so I didn’t so much collapse as sink further into the bed with a satisfied moan. Sinclair was mumbling something into my hair that I didn’t make out right away.

  “Too long. Left it too long. Should have sex more. You will kill me. You are killing me.”

  “Um, I’m sorry?”

  “Why?” His head came up and I saw he was smiling and flushed. “You’re the only one I would allow to kill me. Do so whenever you wish.”

  “Um . . . that’s sweet, Sinclair.”

  The smile dropped off his face so quickly I was startled. “I meant what I told you, my queen. Take me with you. It is my duty to help you rule. All your kingdoms.”

  All my kingdoms. What a (horrifying? exhilarating?) thought.

  “Yeah, I’m with you. Tina and Marc want to come, too. Jessica and His Name Was Always Dick are the only sensible ones; they’ve got zero interest in a field trip to the pit. Also they’re looking forward to having the place to themselves.”

  “And perhaps more babies as a result,” Sinclair said, sounding singularly comfortable. I’d never known what a family man he wanted to be until we were a family.

  “But I’ve got to get better at ’porting. I’ve got to get better at the Game—white bear white bear—and I’ve got to stop ending up in the shed.” Sinclair’s brow furrowed and I waited for the inevitable questions (who could blame him? I sounded like a crazy woman, possibly because I was one), but he let it all slide. Instead he rolled over, pulling me with him and settling me against him as we made like spoons in a drawer.

  “When I’ve got a handle on that stuff,” I said, still thinking out loud, “that’s when we can really get to work and not before. I’m not trying to take you to Hell until I’m sure I can get us there and back and there and back without shed time. Or at least without consistent results. And I’m talking like it’ll be easy, but it won’t. It’s likely gonna suck. But I’ve got you to help me with that, too.”

  “Always,” he told me, his voice going deeper with satiated fatigue. “You are mine. I belong to you. Always.”

  “Yeah.” I sighed, wriggling against him. “I figured.”

  “I should like to see Hell,” he rumbled. “As a tourist, mind you. Or an overlord.”

  I groaned. “It’s comments like that that make me think twice about getting you involved in stuff like this.”

  He chuckled. “Nonsense. I am there to serve you. It will be as you desire, as our life is here.”

  “As I desire, huh? Well. I had an idea of how it might go. Once I’ve got a better handle on things, I mean. Now that I’ve stopped railing against my dreadful fate and died inside and become resigned to—”

  “Oh, Elizabeth,” he said with gentle reproach. “It distresses me when you talk like that.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Imagining it. Just the looks on your faces when you see it, if nothing else.” I laughed. Laughed! Who knew resignation could be so freeing? Running Hell would always be a burden, but, as it had taken me far too long to realize, I didn’t have to do it alone.

  That’s how you know the people who love you, I think. When they know helping you is a terrible idea, and they want to do it anyway.

  I had never been so blessed.

  EPILOGUE

  We were by the escalators at the east entrance, looking down onto the Hell Mall. From there we could see almost the entire amusement park, and the movie theater was directly across. The damned were going about their business, waiting in lines and arguing with cashiers and getting motion sickness from Hell’s roller coasters and terrible return policies. It was controlled chaos, miserable and busy.

  Sinclair, Tina, and Marc just stared out at everything, taking it all in. I could see Cathie, Father Markus, and the Ant at a table at the edge of the food court, arguing about something they seemed to feel strongly about. There were a lot of big hand gestures and raised voices and the clipboard was being waved around. The Ant noticed me first and gave me a distracted wave; Cathie and Father Markus glanced over and both gestured at me to trot over. The argument didn’t stop or even slow down. What now? Father Markus wanted to implement mandatory mass? The Ant wanted to nix the exchange program?

  “Guys, the Hell Mall.” I raised my arm to indicate the entire place. “Hell Mall, the guys.” I smiled at my family, who were wearing varying expressions (surprise, wonder, trepidation). “So! What do you want to do first?”

  1 All the gory details and then some can be found in Undead and Uneasy.

  2 Gory details—and they’re plenty gory—can be found in Undead and Unfinished.

  3 I’m aware nobody does the *cough* thing anymore. Shut up.

  4 Not like that! Pervs.

  5 We met Cathie and the Driveway Killer in Undead and Unreturnable.

  6 Friday. It rocks and stands the test of time! Also, there are kittens, threesomes, and lottery winners.

  7 Garrett’s relentless determination to rescue his sweetie from Hell can be found in Undead and Undermined.

  8 Deets are in Undead and Unwed.

  9 The Ant was uncharacteristically helpful in Undead and Unsure.

  10 The Book of the Dead was written on human skin by Ancient Betsy in th
e future, was taken to the far-off past by the devil, and ended up in Betsy’s possession. Everything in the Book comes true, but unfortunately anyone who reads it for any length of time goes insane.

  11 And that’s not all she did. Check Undead and Unappreciated for the rest.

  12 See Undead and Unsure.

  13 See Undead and Unsure.