Wild Hyacinthe (Crimson Romance) Page 14

  “Oh?”

  “She’s a virgin, and I can charge off her when she reaches climax.”

  Gypsy’s face iced. She snapped into business-mode, analysis-mode, all jest set aside. “How much? What kind of a dent does it make in your level of need?

  I reached within myself and tried to gauge the desperation for sex. “Only a percent or two at a time . . . it’s not much. But it’s something. It’s something I’ve never encountered before.”

  “But you still cannot reach a climax with her without penetration?” she asked.

  I was so grateful Gypsy never showed any of the discomfort I felt at these candid conversations. “No,” I admitted, “I can’t.”

  “Therefore you cannot charge entirely and you won’t be able to last forever like this.”

  I felt my heart blacken at her blatant airing of the truth. “Correct.”

  “At a rate of a percent or two at a time, you won’t hold it off for long. Unless you’re pushing her around the clock, that is, and who knows what that will do to her health in the long run—you’re absorbing her soul a percent or two at a time. Likewise, the incubus may feel you are taunting him, Asher. He may snap before you notice him surging up, demanding her before you’re ready. We’ve been down to the wire like this before, but it almost ended in disaster last time.”

  “I know,” I said, shaking my head. “But if I can charge even a small amount without killing, then within Aria lays the chance I might be able to kill less often. What if I could extend myself to one per year, or even less? Imagine the possibilities!”

  She pressed her lips into a grim line. “You’ve picked the wrong damn time to imagine possibilities. You’re running out of time: I can see it in your eyes. You need to kill soon.”

  She was right and I knew it, but I wasn’t ready to condemn anyone—not a stranger, not a whore, not Aria. Not yet.

  “I think I love her, Gypsy.”

  My sister’s voice was protective and angry. “You’ve known her a goddamn week.”

  “I know, I know. How else do I describe this feeling, though?”

  “I don’t give a shit how you describe it. Stop feeling it. If you fall in love with her, we’re all fucked.” Her voice curled up with panic. She knew how suicidal I’d become after my first kill. She stopped me herself and gave me my first tattoo—the physical pain took the edge off my disgust with myself, and the mark in my flesh reminded me I couldn’t be a coward. A killer, yes, but not a coward.

  “Look,” I said, “I’ve never felt like this before. I know it doesn’t make sense . . . maybe it doesn’t have to. She makes me feel like a person rather than a monster.”

  “You are both a person and a monster,” Gypsy reminded me.

  “I know, but does that mean the person within me has no right to happiness or love? If the monster gets his dues at my expense, shouldn’t I get some measure of satisfaction, even if only at his expense?”

  “You know you’re going to kill her eventually, right?”

  “I hope I can avoid that, somehow.”

  “If you want to prolong this, I can procure something as a temporary solution for you, to satiate your needs for another six months. You were displeased with your birthday present, so I can make adjustments to the solution I pursue for you.”

  I groaned and rubbed the back of my neck, stress pushing a headache forward. “No. Aria has already made her feelings on cheating clear. She’d rather die than be betrayed, sexually.”

  “But if she knew you meant literal dying, her feelings on the matter might shift, don’t you think?”

  “And how do you suppose I go about that conversation? ‘Sorry, Aria, but if I fuck you, you’ll die, like the forty-three other women tattooed on my arm. How do you feel about being number forty-four? Cuz if you’re not keen on that idea, I should just go bang Jane Doe on the corner in Superior.’” I rolled my eyes.

  “If you will not stray from her, you’ve already decided to kill her.”

  I stared at Gypsy for what felt like an eternity, fighting my nature, determined not to be the monster I’d proven myself to be all along.

  “No.”

  “How exactly are you going to prevent this? You can’t go longer than six months without killing. We know this.”

  “Who says I can’t do better? A few years ago, I couldn’t go six weeks without killing. Before that, I rarely made it two weeks. At one point, six months seemed impossible. And I did it, right?”

  “Barely.” Gypsy rolled her eyes.

  I felt the room tunnel, as though my sister stood far out of my reach. She didn’t understand. How could she? Her fear of losing me was as terrible as mine was of losing her. I wished every speck of my coexistence along the fine line between sex and murder was simply a nightmare that would soon come to an end.

  “I have to try, Gypsy,” I whispered.

  She only glared at me, so I reached out and took her fingers between mine and her expression softened.

  Then her tone changed as she brightened her face with calculated timing. “Oh, the cabin, Asher? What a wonderful idea! She’ll love it there.”

  I stammered for a moment, confused, but Gypsy spoke again.

  “Aria!” My sister strode to the door of her office. “Sorry. I hope I didn’t give away a surprise.”

  I spun, shocked, as Aria stood in the doorway.

  “Um, no,” Aria muttered, confused. “I mean, I’m not sure. Cabin, Asher?”

  “Yes, Asher was thinking of taking you to his cabin on Wednesday,” Gypsy said matter-of-factly. “Pardon my manners. I’m Gypsy, Asher’s sister. But I suppose you already knew that.”

  Aria smiled, surprised, and shook Gypsy’s hand. “Aria Hyacinthe. Asher’s told me a lot about you.”

  “Likewise. Though I promise I’m not as bad as he makes me out to be.”

  “Gypsy, you know I speak highly of you.” If I could be honest, I would boast profusely of your corpse-disposal skills, you creepy, psychotic sister of mine.

  Aria chuckled. “I’m sorry I let myself in . . . I get anxious when I’m nervous. Cabin, Asher? Wednesday? I have to work and it’s Monday. That doesn’t give me much notice.”

  I opened my mouth to interject something, but my sister stole my chance. “You work at the Lacy Teacup, right? Asher is a favorite customer there. I’m sure he can put in a word for your time off, if need be.”

  Because that won’t be suspicious at all, Gypsy! Fuck!

  Aria almost bounced with excitement. “Asher, you should have told me. I could have warned the boss yesterday when I spoke to him.”

  Gypsy waved off her concern. “My brother has many properties, but he rarely takes anyone far. ‘Cabin’ is quite the muted description for the place. It’s actually fully furnished and luxurious. You’ll love it. Asher doesn’t like to brag, just as he doesn’t like to spend. Maybe he’ll take you to our joint summer home in Spain sometime. I don’t use the place nearly as often as I’d like to.”

  “Wow.” Aria giggled. “Spain!”

  “Well, I’m sorry to cut this short,” my twin said, “but I have a client at nine.”

  “It’s fine, Gypsy,” I said, taking Aria by the waist. “We need to shower before Aria has to work.”

  “Gypsy, it was a pleasure to meet you,” Aria said, shaking my sister’s hand again.

  “Likewise, Aria. And Asher, you’re welcome. For everything.”

  I nodded as I pulled Aria from the room. “Thanks, Gypsy. You’re so supportive.”

  Back in my car, I tried not to brood. The cabin. All of my kills since my first reckless year of careless, uncontrollable slaughter were in the cabin. Could I manage to bring Aria there and keep her safe? Could I resist sex in my cabin, the place designed for exactly that? I suppressed a frown. Thanks a fucking lot, Gypsy.

  I knew why she did it. My sister set me up so I would have no choice but to charge, since she still had a reasonable chance of covering up Aria’s murder, more so than she had of covering up a rando
m home invasion. Not to mention if my urges overpowered my body because I was too stubborn to kill, I would never come back to my sister.

  All of Gypsy’s research about an incubus showed that if the monster within me were allowed even the most momentary takeover of my physical actions, I would lose myself to him completely. Every time I finished, the filth of death in my bed and the disgust I tasted at my actions begged the question, was it worth it? If I let the incubus do it for me, it wasn’t my fault, right? I’d battled that question for years.

  Ultimately, I decided that was wrong. Because I had the choice not to live at all. But given the choice between living with guilt and hurting Gypsy through suicide, I had chosen to live with the guilt. Now, with Aria’s murder on the line, I wasn’t sure which seemed like the lesser crime.

  If I didn’t take a victim soon, I would succumb to the influence of the incubus and Gypsy would have to kill me herself to prevent further carnage. It was a sorry symbiosis I lived with, and a sad set of circumstances for Gypsy to endure. Her twin brother eventually would screw it all up and cost her the highest price.

  But my choices were grim, regardless. Could I kill Aria? No, I couldn’t. Could I cheat on her with a whore, satisfying my lust and fueling the incubus’s need for breath, to preserve her life longer? No. I would have to lie to her if I did that, and she already said that betrayal was the worst torture she could imagine. If I were truly this committed to Aria, lying to her was out of the question.

  What can I do?

  “I’m sorry I barged in,” Aria muttered from her seat next to me where I brooded in the Super Car. “You don’t have to take me to your cabin if you don’t want to. I’m not upset. You meant it to be a surprise.”

  I flashed her a grin, masterfully covering my morbid mood. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sure you’re still happy to go, surprise or not, right?”

  She smiled at me and nodded, her smile not quite touching her eyes. “You’re angry.”

  I sighed. “Yeah, but not at you.”

  “Gypsy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Will you tell me why?”

  I shrugged. “Call it a twin thing. I get irritated with her easily, but it also passes just as easily. Another side effect of sharing the womb, sharing the crib, and sharing every milestone and moment of growing up together. We’ll be fine.”

  “You’re scary when you’re angry.”

  I squeezed Aria’s fingers with affection, hoping to soothe her natural fear. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t know if I can get off of work.” She chewed on her lip.

  “I’ll handle that. Gypsy was right; she always is. I’m a favorite there. If I need your company outside of the Teacup for a few days, that’s what I’ll get.”

  “Must be nice to be so influential, huh?”

  I chuckled. Perhaps the cabin wouldn’t be so terrible to endure for a short time. Perhaps I could control myself there. “Aria, you have no idea how monumental it is to be a man in my position.”

  And when you see my cabin, you might start to grasp the level of wealth and influence I possess. If you have any reservations about being with me, the luxury of my cabin will surely wipe them away. If one thing can earn a woman’s trust, it’s luxury. Oh, Aria. I’m so sorry I’m falling in love with you.

  No matter how adamantly I fight against the monster within my soul, I’m terrified I’m going to lose.

  Chapter 17 – Aria

  “This is the Sissy Car?” I asked as the automatic door on one of the four garages beside Asher’s gym slid open.

  Asher flashed me a giddy grin. “Yep, sure is.”

  I chuckled at his good mood—cars got him all excited, and it was adorable. “Why is it called a Sissy Car?” The name flabbergasted me. It was so far from anything wimpy I just couldn’t figure it out. Kind of like Asher, the car was a total puzzle.

  “It’s just a shortened nickname Gyp and I came up with. Sissy is short for Sesto Elemento.”

  I stared at the sleek, dark silver lines of the car, crossing my arms over my chest. The angles of the Sissy were dramatic, low to the ground, and it looked fast even when stationary. It was probably worth more than I’d earn in a lifetime waitressing. “I don’t even know how to get into this thing. And you said it’s not street legal.”

  Asher opened the door for me and held out a hand. I took it and slipped into the low seat, sweeping my short skirt over my thighs. Asher stroked my arm once after lowering me into the car. “Stop worrying,” he said, bending down to speak seductively close to my ear. “I want to drive this car, therefore I will drive it.”

  I trembled at his proximity, and then tilted my head and kissed his cheek, delighting in the fresh, smooth taste of his clean-shaven skin.

  We took off on the scenic highway. My heart thudded in my chest with excitement. Would he finally give in to the sexual tension between us there? Was that his plan all along: to make it a special night, for me? It seemed silly that I’d fought him on it, if all he intended was to turn a casual encounter into something meaningful. My sense of need burned between my legs again, and it shot through my chest with fiery demand as I thought about sex with Asher. Meaningful sex. He was too good to be true, I was sure of it.

  I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, and found his expression hard, almost angry again. But at what? How could his mood change so sharply as we got closer to our destination? I didn’t know how far it was, so I shifted and looked out the window, trying to ignore the nervousness that rose in my chest at his mood, and the need that battled against it, demanding I make a move again soon.

  The tires barely grazed along the pavement as we sped. Asher drove with ease, giving away nothing for clues to his intentions. What was wrong? Was he having second thoughts about taking me to the cabin? Was he just still pissed off at Gypsy for something? I didn’t know. The more my mind reeled, the more my desire burned up my insides, as though sex was the answer to everything, the only thing I needed in the world.

  Something in my body was not normal, I realized. Women didn’t act like this, like desperate men, eager to spread their seed. Maybe I’d just stayed a virgin far too long and was going to have a nervous breakdown if I didn’t obey my body’s natural needs soon. Maybe I was fundamentally flawed, and I’d always push a cryptic, sexy man like Asher away. Wrapped in the finest clothing he could procure, in the most expensive car I’d ever imagined, I wondered if I’d dreamed this whole thing up to satisfy my insatiable wanting.

  I pinched my arm hard and sucked in a breath at the pain. Huh. Not a dream.

  “You okay?”

  I glanced at Asher and watched his gaze travel down the length of my legs to my high-heeled booted feet, back up to my chest, and then to my eyes. “Yeah, I’m good,” I said, forcing a smile, though I was shaking from confusion at the potent heat of desire refusing to leave my veins. Cool down, Aria, I chastised myself with another mental slap on the hand.

  He frowned, skeptical, but then refocused on the road. “What do you want to do on this trip? Anything you want. It’s all in the budget.”

  I grinned, tucking my blue streak behind my ear. “Um, it’s a cabin. I thought we’d, you know, stay in.”

  He grimaced and adjusted his pants. Desire punched into high gear and I had to physically resist the urge to climb over the seat and straddle him, my hands clenching the leather seat beneath me.

  “You wanted to swim in the waters wherever you travel, right? Have you had a dip in Lake Superior yet? The water’s warm right now, I hear.”

  I took in the view of the pristine lake as it blinked in and out of sight, glittering between the trees as we drove.

  “We can take a boat out, if you want,” Asher continued. “Or go to Split Rock Lighthouse. And there’s a great crab shack . . . ”

  I snorted, cutting him off.

  “What?”

  I shook my head, unable to hide my disappointment. I was wrong about his intentions. He didn’t plan this as the mos
t incredible first-sex anyone’s ever had, like I hoped. He still didn’t want to do the deed, and the fire inside me twisted into anger as I listened to his plans.

  “Asher Chain takes me to his cabin and wants to go fucking sightseeing,” I grumbled.

  He sighed. “Want to stay in and watch a movie instead?”

  “Sure.” I could find a few thousand excuses to slide my hand—or mouth—or ass, for that matter—over to his side of a sofa during a movie.

  “What kind of movie? The bar is fully stocked, so we can just kick back and enjoy the quiet, if you’d prefer.”

  “How about a porno?” I glared at him, half-pissed-off, half-hoping my lascivious suggestion would work.

  “Or,” he held up a finger, “and this is just a thought . . . you could stop trying to get into my pants and stick to our agreement. Sex slow.”

  I resisted the urge to grind my teeth, anger burning hotter every second. How could I be so mad about sex? It was just sex! “Can I at least suck you off once?”

  Asher swore loudly and jerked the steering wheel to the right. My heart sprinted with panic, but he pulled into a scenic rest-stop and parked. He jumped out of the car and stomped away, leaning on the brick of the scenic overlook with both hands, vibrating. An older couple taking pictures of the Great Lake startled as he beat a fist on the brick, and I quickly unbuckled and scrambled after him.

  “Asher, I’m sorry!” I pleaded. “I said we’ll take the sex slow. Goddammit, I’m dying for something from you, here. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, I just . . . I just need to fuck!” I stopped a few feet from his back, and he glanced at the older couple, mouthing an apology for my profanity.

  They shuffled into their minivan and left, and I rubbed my forehead, frustrated with myself, with him, with the whole idea of sex and all the baggage that came with it. I reached around Asher for his hand, prying tense fingers off the brick barrier of the overlook. He turned to face me as I leaned my elbow beside him.