Jaded Touch (Vesper) Read online

  “Not if you want me to be Pharaoh.” Jack took both my wrists between his hands, long fingers curled around slender steel, and raised them above my head. He walked forward, and I walked back, until I crashed into the wall and a picture fell to the floor, the shatter of glass the only sound in the air. The sound of the fracture echoed in my ears, as a human man, touching me with possession, shattered my certainty, splintered my path. Jack pinned me there with my wrists above my head, and though I knew I could toss him off me easily, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

  Jack captured my mouth with his and slid his tongue over my lips again and again, and before I knew it I wasn’t even holding myself up anymore: Jack’s arm secured around my waist and my wrists locked in the grip of one hot, human hand. I moaned into his kiss, and my caution disappeared. Everything I thought I knew surged around me as Jack’s mouth upheaved my control, threw it over his shoulder, and carried it off into the pyramids. I opened my mouth to take his tongue inside, and he pulled back.

  “None of that now,” he said, and I whimpered. Stupid poison, killing my buzz.

  But Jack revived my buzz when he let go of my wrists and slipped his hand between my legs, his fingers sliding along electrified flesh, and I let out a hiss that would have frightened most mortal men, but drove Jack onward as he stroked me.

  And then he let go of me and planted his hands on his hips, smirking.

  “Hey!” I whined in protest. My thighs throbbed and the cool air on my wrist amplified the vacancy I felt as he stepped away.

  “Hey, what?” Jack’s superior, smug, stupid grin was so inviting I wanted to pounce on him and tackle him to the floor.

  “Hey!” I didn’t have anything better to say. Why would he torment me this way? I wanted more, I wanted… Oh, my God, I wanted him to have control. I wanted him to do what he wanted with me, and I wanted to obey the command in his voice that insulted my nature as a Vesper.

  “Do you still think this is wrong, and I’m under the influence of your control?”

  I clamped my knees together and sank down to them on the floor. My whole foundation, everything I knew about myself - that I was a cold, heartless immortal with no desires but to serve, and that I had control of any human and liked it that way – shattered.

  As my certainty faltered, Jack’s heat, embrace, bold speech, and daring tongue wrapped around my life and pulled me into the darkness with him, and to my shock, I was thrilled to go into the unknown.

  And then he sat down in front of me and gathered me into his arms, and I shook my head, panting, blown away by my shift in focus. I wanted him to be Pharaoh, to tell me what to do, to force me to fight my collected, solitary nature. His heat folded around me as I climbed into his lap, and he chuckled into my hair.

  “If I control you instead, since I can’t hurt you, is this really wrong?”

  I stammered. “It’s still forbidden.”

  “By ancient old fucks who sit upon their thrones and don’t really know what goes on with their minions anyway.”

  I blinked and gazed up at Jack, and his jade eyes were warm with adoration, passion, and certainty. Locked in his sights, I felt safe. “You think we might be able to do this and keep it secret.”

  “I’m telling you we’re going to do this and keep it secret. There’s no ‘might’ involved.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  “You do.”

  I knew I should argue, but I couldn’t find the words and I didn’t want to look for them. I did want to do this with Jack. More than anything. I swallowed. “Jack… I need to go. I have to get back, if we’re going to keep this little encounter secret.”

  Jack froze. “You’re saying yes. You’ll come see me again.” It was a question, though he didn’t ask it that way for reasons I didn’t understand.

  I nodded and kissed the hollow at the base of his throat, delighting in the scratch of his rough chin on my forehead. “Yes.”

  Jack laughed with true mirth and wrapped me up in his arms. “I have to give you something before you go, so I’m sure you remember me.”

  Give me something? “We don’t keep many possessions…”

  He shushed me and spun me onto the floor on my back, climbing over me. He kissed me again. “You won’t forget it, I promise.”

  And within seconds, my pants were gone and Jack’s mouth was all I felt, his heat trailing along my skin in a part of my body - a part of my soul - that needed him beyond reason. He brought me back to the cliff with his lips and his tongue, and I wanted him to throw me right off the edge, but he just kept pushing me forward and pulling me back. It wasn’t until I screamed his name and slammed my palms against the floor, breaking the hardwood, that he let me fall. His tongue urged the swell of my orgasm with delicious, wet friction, his licks possessive. And when I hit the bottom it was in the welcoming heat of his arms. He kissed me as I quivered, whimpering his name.

  There was no way I could forget him now. He made sure of it. He kissed me goodbye and I left in a daze, sprinting into the night toward the sound of a train.

  Jack wanted to control me. And how I wanted him to! My thoughts, usually spinning with concerns, were comforted by his control. Our future together, whatever that meant, was in his hands, not mine.

  My burdens felt lighter, and I laughed aloud in the night, stunned that something so wrong could be so right for me.

  Secrets

  A thump on the top of the train pulled me from concentration and I slipped the little pouch with all my beads and leather cords beneath the pillow of the lounge car. I sat upright and listened. Who else was out, at this time? The Original Child’s transfer was tomorrow, so there was little time to waste.

  I peered out at the open side door of the car that made my lounge bay – every train in our company had a car like this one, with sliding side doors and a couple of cots bolted to the floor for us to rest upon during the blistering daytime. Feet slid down from the roof of the train and in swung a man in solid leather clothing, his movements seamless as he dropped into the car. He stood and tilted his head at me, and the way he moved – his motions just a touch quicker than was normal for Vespers – gave his identity away.

  “What are you doing out?” I asked him. Sychar knew better than to sneak out this close to transfer duty! But after all this time, my best friend still chanced it to come socialize on the trains he was supposed to avoid.

  Sychar unzipped the black, leather hood of his daywear from his collar and slipped it off over his head.

  “I could ask you the same,” he said with a smirk, and I laughed. Sychar was easily the most rebellious of the Gents, as I was of the Maids. It was a natural, though forbidden, friendship we indulged: meeting upon trains for some social time when we weren’t supposed to be out at all.

  I pulled my beading pouch out from under the pillow – no need to hide it from Sychar – and got back to work. My sisters would make fun of me for keeping a hobby, but Sychar was just that kind of guy: non-judgemental, kind, and understanding.

  He tossed himself into the neighboring cot and stretched out, his hands clasped behind his head. I shook my head and forced myself to stop admiring the intricacy of his black veins along his temples and brow. Something had been awakened in me thanks to Jack, and I had to keep pressing down the feelings that surged whenever I thought of him. Sychar’s presence wasn’t helping to keep the desire at bay. Though he was just a friend, he was one hell of an attractive friend.

  “Actually, when we heard about the train accident, Levitiqas blew a gasket about his Child’s safety on the transfer,” Sychar said. “He sent Festus and me to accompany you Maids on the journey tomorrow. But I’m at least twelve hours ahead of him.” He grinned, proud as ever with his superior speed.

  It was true: he was fast enough to cross the country on foot in a day’s time, if he needed to. Trains only slowed him down, contrary to how ordinary Vespers like I needed them to increase our speed of travel. So if Sychar was on this train, it was because he w
anted to see me regardless of the penalty for his tardiness, and my heart swelled with appreciation.

  “I was on the train when it went off,” I said. “Had to wrench myself out from beneath the heavy thing. If I hadn’t been trapped, I might have gotten to the train men sooner.”

  Sychar sighed. “Yeah, we thought it was you. Dispatch wasn’t sure who called. Are all the guys dead?”

  I shook my head. “No. Jack’s alive.”

  “He’s the young one, right? Been with us about six months?”

  I nodded. “He was hurt, so I got him home. Gash in his arm and a head injury. I probably should have taken him to the hospital, but I was worried he might be out of it and spill something.” I’m worried he’ll tell somebody that I kissed him. And more. So much more. I wanted him to control me, and it seemed so contrary in the presence of another Vesper that I frowned. I wondered if the female praying mantis ever let the male think he would be the one to survive mating, only to dash his hopes and tear off his head at the last sorry second. Or in my case, swallow him whole.

  “Was he breathing?”

  “Of course he was breathing.” All over me.

  Sychar hummed and glanced at me, an eyebrow lifted. “Then he’s probably fine. Humans are more resilient than they give themselves credit for. Have the train staff send someone to check on him. Maybe they’ll send a girl.”

  I flinched internally and hoped Sychar didn’t catch it. Be cool, Three. “Yeah, we don’t let the poor hoggers get enough action.” Understatement of the year goes to me, the Maid who reciprocated nothing but a painful squeeze to her forbidden human consort’s precious jewels.

  Sychar grinned at me, but his gaze was scrupulous and I wondered if he suspected I was hiding something.

  “You cut your hair,” I noted. Sychar’s brown hair was short to his scalp, though last time I’d seen him it was nearly touching his shoulders. The cut accentuated his Italian features, bringing out the angles of his jaw and nose… Damn. My newly-sensitive femaleness was heightened to the point that I was noticing even Sychar’s manly attractiveness, and that was creepy. Even mere friendship with a Gent like Sychar could prove deadly if we were discovered. Any contact barring that which was required by our duties was forbidden.

  “Yeah, it was driving me nuts, because it curls when it’s long and pokes me in the fucking ears. I got my hands on a pair of diamond-edged clippers last week. Stole it from one of the other Gents.”

  My eyebrows shot up. Though the only way to cut Vesper hair was with such a strong blade, I could imagine the beating Sychar would earn for stealing from his elder brothers. His boldness never ceased to impress me. “Nice!”

  “You can borrow them, if you want to do something about… that.” He made a show of cringing at my black curls, twisted around my shoulders in an unruly mess. It got out of hand when it grew long, and I couldn’t really help it, so I grabbed my pillow and whipped it at him. He laughed when it exploded into a spray of feathers as he blocked it with his iron forearm.

  “Crap,” I said, surveying the mess.

  Sychar pulled the pillow out from under his head and tossed it more gently at me, and I caught it. He brushed feathers off his cot and interlaced his fingers behind his head again.

  “Thanks.” I breathed deeply of his scent, always grateful for his generosity. This little mood Jack put me in in was a dangerous one. I couldn’t really blame myself. Jack was good looking, and so was Sychar. But Sychar’s good looks resonated with me on a different level. One of platonic care, as though I was his sister in more than just immortality. I put the pillow on the cot beside me. Huh. Something was off about his usual, familiar smell: the sleek aroma of a steel man, a Vesper.

  “What happened to your shirt?” Sychar asked me.

  Crap. I’d forgotten that I wore only a tank top the whole time I was with Jack. I reached over my shoulder and stroked my fingertips over the top scar on my spine, and sighed. One of the three giant branding circles that ran down my spine – the same three that earned me my Vesper name of Three - peeked out from beneath the top of the shirt, and Jack had surely seen it. The other two were evenly spaced down the center of my back, low enough that the white fabric hid them.

  “I tied off Jack’s arm with it.”

  He cringed. “How low does that one dip in the back?”

  “Too low.” I chewed on my lip. I hated when my sisters saw my scars, which they certainly would once I got home dressed like this. The scars were sensitive to touch, and even the cool air irritated the markings.

  “Shit, Three, here.” Sychar sat up and unzipped his leather coat, and then peeled off his long-sleeved, black shirt. He tossed it to me and had his coat zipped back on before I even caught it, he was so damn fast.

  I hesitated. “You don’t have to,” I started, but he waved me off as he lay back down.

  “It’s fine, Three. I don’t want you getting any more shit than you already do from them. It’s bad enough when the guys tease me for my age, I can only imagine what the other Maids put you through.”

  I blinked, surprised by his generosity. He gave me the shirt off his back. Sychar was truly one-of-a-kind. That unique way of being both offhand and generous at the same time was why I cherished his friendship so much… why he was the only one who knew the story behind my scars, besides my Lady. I’d never trust anyone else with the tale. So I stuffed my arms into his shirt, slipped it over my head and tossed back my hair. I breathed in again, watching Sychar smirk at me while something a little bit arrogant – but still cute – tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  But as I inhaled, I caught a whiff of something unexpected. I sniffed the air again. “What is that?”

  Sychar frowned at me, and then sniffed his armpits, and I laughed. Vespers didn’t have body odor, but the gesture was boyish and hilarious anyway.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “It smells like perfume.”

  Sychar shrugged again, but a ghost of something suspicious danced across his features. He covered it well, and that was when I realized that my best friend had a secret.

  I kicked my legs off the bed and leaned forward. “What is it? You’re hiding something.”

  He snorted. “What are you, Levitiqas?”

  “Just because your master can detect any lie you tell him doesn’t mean I’m anything like him, and I’d appreciate if you didn’t refer to me as such.” Such an insult was usually reserved among the Vespers for the harshest of arguments. No one wanted to be like Levitiqas.

  Sychar held up his hands, his solid-black eyes showing me genuine apology. “Out of line. I’m sorry, Three.”

  I glared at him. “What are you hiding? What did you do?”

  Sychar tongued his fangs as we stared each other down for a moment, and then he sat up and leaned his elbows on his knees, blowing out a harsh breath of stress. I furrowed my eyebrows.

  “How are you at keeping secrets from your Lady?”

  I shook my head. “She doesn’t interrogate us like Levitiqas does to you boys. I can keep a secret, if you need me to.”

  “But are you willing to keep the secret, if it’s so against the rules I could be killed for it, or worse?” The sudden darkness in his tone sent a thrill of fear through my chest. What had he done?

  I swallowed hard, my heart thudding in my chest. “You’re my best friend, Sychar. I’d never tell anyone the things you confide in me.” Over the years, Sychar had confided in me often, as I’d done with him. Not a breath of any tale had crossed my lips after he told it.

  He peered up at me from under his lashes, his youthful face showing a level of stress I didn’t expect. “I’ve got this tucked away in my head. I don’t think Levitiqas could torture it out of me if he tried.”

  “What do you have tucked away?” The suspense was killing me. Sychar had a secret, a dangerous one… one more dangerous than friendship with me.

  He rubbed his temples and sighed again. “Look, it’s unnatural, the way we live in such solitu
de. The abstinence is ridiculous. I kind of… met someone.”

  I blinked, and my heart dropped so hard with fear I thought I would vomit, if Vespers were capable of vomiting. My mind recoiled from the news, though not out of envy. Did Sychar know how dangerous this was? “You met someone?” My voice curled up on the end as I forced enthusiasm into the question.

  “A human someone.”

  I froze, my body completely rigid. Oh, no. No, no, no. My fallen creator wasn’t the only Gent to endure such a tragic end as penalty for his crimes with a human woman. My Lady told us what had happened to Nycholas… how he took a human mistress and was killed for it, and the Gents spent five years stalking down the human girl until Levi finally caught up with her and ended the chase. But my Lady also told us that the Gents might not know they had killed their brother: Levitiqas, the cruel bastard he was, wiped it from their memories so they wouldn’t remember that they were forced to murder a comrade.

  Of course, my Lady tampered with my memories too, but to soothe the grief for the creator I’d lost and give me a chance at living life without him. Not because she was cruel. This was too dangerous for Sychar, and somehow my fear swelled into anger that he would dare it, when he knew what was on the line.

  And yet I’d kissed, groped, and played with a human being tonight. And enjoyed it. A lot. I stuffed down the anger and forced the red from my vision. Hypocrite.

  I swallowed and tried to smile. “That’s nice.” And with the repression of anger came a surge of unexpected envy that Sychar laid his hands on a woman and hadn’t even asked me if I wanted to, first.

  Why should I care? Damn Jack. I didn’t want Sychar, not the way I wanted Jack. Right now, I just wanted anything, anyone who would touch me as Jack did, and fill the void in my heart. It was as though I’d run on empty, stripped of touch, for so long that I needed it like an alcoholic needs gin.

  “That’s nice?” Sychar parroted as I stared vacantly at him, dwelling on the magnitude of this secret, and my fears that tumbled forth at the revelation. “I tell you I have a human girlfriend – something so against the rules it would be safer for me to fuck you, Three, and you tell me it’s nice?”