Kim Harrison - Unbound

Cillian was at the bedroom door. He had been for several minutes. “Eavan? Can we talk? Maybe you’re feeling too housebound. We can—”

She opened her window. An alarm went off.

Ten minutes left.

Cillian tried the knob. “Damn it. What are you doing?”

Don’t answer. Just go out the window.

She stood looking at the window and then at the door. He was jimmying the lock.

“How in the hell am I to keep you safe if—” He opened the door. “What are you doing?”

“Stay back. Please?” She looked at him, too close and too kind. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

He crossed the room and started to close the window. “If you don’t cooperate, I can’t keep you safe. We’ve talked about this. If it’s the kiss…” Frustration weighed in his voice, his movements, his everything. “It’s okay, Eavan. We can pretend it didn’t happen. People react differently to stress, and…it’s not a big deal.”

Not prey.

He was too close though.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s okay. I told you that.” Cillian turned to face her. He was not even three steps away.

She stared at his mouth. Just another taste. The tip of her tongue darted out.

He froze, but he didn’t run. “It’s okay.”

She wasn’t sure if he was giving her permission or still forgiving her. It didn’t really matter. She closed the space between them. It was all she could do to speak, but she warned him: “You should run now.”

He didn’t move.

So she kissed him. She had both legs around him, and he walked forward until she felt the wall behind her.

She pushed herself tighter to him. “More.” She pressed her lips back to his, lifted herself up enough that she could reach between them and unbutton his jeans. Her skirt was around her hips, leaving only her underwear between them. She ripped it away; the sound of tearing cloth brought an encouraging sound from Cillian.

They were on the floor. She was straddling him, moments from crossing the line she swore she would not cross.

Better sex than murder.

She pulled away and looked down at him.

I could swallow his final breath as he …

She lowered herself onto him and shuddered. Sex and death, all at once, she could have it all. She licked her lips and leaned forward.

“Eavan!” Suddenly, Muriel was there, pulling her backward. The small vampire was more than a match for Eavan.

Muriel pulled Eavan off Cillian.

Eavan hissed. Muriel slapped her.

Cillian looked dazed. He scrambled to his feet, naked and somehow already aiming a gun at Muriel.

“Get in the car,” Muriel said, or perhaps repeated, if the way she bit off each word was any indication. She stayed like a guard between Cillian and Eavan. “And tell him who I am, Evvie, before he tries to shoot me.”

“Friend,” Eavan forced out. Forming words just then was a trial, but she did it. “Muriel’s a friend. I called her.”

Cillian lowered his gun.

Eavan’s gaze followed the lowering weapon and fell on Cillian’s very beautiful naked, just-out-of-reach body. She tried to step around Muriel. “I’m fine here.”

Muriel sighed. “I’m sorry about this, Mr. Owens, but until she’s thinking clearly, it’s for the best.”

Then she punched him.

Eavan had a violent case of the shakes by the time she was a mile away from her apartment. It was a little mortifying to think that Muriel had seen her so out of control with a human, but at least she had been there to stop Eavan.

“I owe you,” she said, not looking at Muriel yet.

“Sweetie,” Muriel drawled, “you always owe me for something or other. You just count yourself lucky that I don’t call in all those chits.”

“Why did you stop me?” Eavan had heard Muriel’s lectures on “giving in” often enough that she was a little surprised.

Muriel glanced over at her, taking her eyes off the road long enough that it gave Eavan a pleasant shiver of danger. When Muriel looked back at the road, she answered, “When you choose to cross those lines, I’m good with it, but it’s not my place to help you cross them…unless you decide in advance…preferably with me along for the ride.” She flashed a fanged grin at Eavan.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be woman enough for you,” Eavan admitted.

Muriel laughed, not cruelly, but in that way that made clear that she knew secrets that the rest of the world could only guess at. “I’ll be gentle the first time…although I’m not so sure that’s what you’re looking for. You came near to breaking your mortal.”

“I’m mortal, too.” Eavan wasn’t sure of it just then; she felt pretty far from mortal after the way she’d thrown herself at Cillian. The words, the reminder—to herself and to Muriel—were important though. “I’m still mortal.”

“You are, sweetie.” Muriel reached over and squeezed her head. “You haven’t killed anyone, and I don’t know if that was sex enough to count.”

Eavan and Muriel had discussed what constituted “sex” often enough, but there weren’t any clear answers. Things Other were notoriously prone to loopholes, semantics, and arguments of intention. If she considered it true sex, would it be? Or was it the definition of the matriarch? Or was it the interpretation of some long dead ancestor? Eavan had no answers, but she did know that she needed to tread extra carefully the next month. Just in case . One month without murder—usually that wouldn’t sound so impossible.

“Help me stop Daniel?” Eavan stared out the window into the dimly lit parking lot of the Chaos Factory. Somewhere out there, her prey waited.

“It’s a trap.” Muriel pulled in and zipped around the line of cars to go to the valet stand. “You know that, right?”

“I do.” Eavan accepted a hand as she slid out of Muriel’s Vanquish.

Muriel walked around the car and wrapped an arm around Eavan. Then she caught and held the valet’s gaze.

“Don’t joyride,” she warned. Her fangs appeared just long enough to scare the valet. “If any of you so much as stroke the car, you’re dinner.”

The valet shuddered. He wouldn’t remember the words, or seeing the fangs, but he would take good care of Muriel’s car.

“This is a bad idea, Eavan.” Muriel motioned at the club. “Going in there when you’re like this is a really bad idea .”

“I need to get the girl out,” Eavan insisted. “I can handle it.”

Silently, Muriel walked past Eavan.

She didn’t need vampire powers to charm the doorman. She skipped the line and went to stand in front of him. Eavan followed. Muriel wrapped an arm around her again. This time, though, she stroked her fingers over Eavan’s hip.

Eavan gasped. “Muriel…”

As Eavan leaned in to Muriel’s caress, she felt the doorman and innumerable mortals in the waiting line respond to the tease of a show.

Not as much as I am.

“Shhh, sweetie,” Muriel whispered in her ear. “We’ll be able to dance in a sec.” To the doorman, she added in a low whisper, “My girl’s in a bit of a mood. Can we skip the line? She’s not much of an exhibitionist unless the music’s on.”

The doorman grinned and motioned them inside.

They stopped just inside the door. Muriel’s hand slid up and across the small of Eavan’s back. “This is where we are, Ev. You’re not in any shape to be here.”

“Staying here.” Eavan swallowed. She fisted her hands, driving small half moons into her palms. “I’ve been almost as bad before.”

“Not in years.”

“I can do this.” Eavan forced the craving back as hard as she could. “Please, Muriel?”