Covet the Night, page 30
"I like to keep in tune with the modern world."
Gwen hummed her acknowledgment, eyes fastened to the streetlights and passing buildings until they became a blur. Vienna kept an early bedtime. The streets were deserted, and the pavement glistened from recent rain. The air still smelled of it, tinging it with a musty, cool humidity that she inhaled deeply.
"Where are we going?" Gwen turned to him. He was still watching her through hooded eyes.
"Do you like to dance?" he asked. She hesitated, then tilted her head. "Good."
Gwen narrowed her eyes, waiting for him to elaborate when the scenic view out William's window shifted from pristine stone buildings to graffiti-lined concrete. The car turned down a slender street where the streetlights were placed farther apart. Her eyes grew wide as they flicked to the rear window and watched the safety of the city center vanish in a sea of buildings.
"Where exactly are we going?" she asked, giving her attention back to William. He smoothed his expression to one of complete neutrality.
"Clubbing."
A scoff flew from Gwen that left her gaping. The featherlight touch of his finger on the underside of her chin made her jaw snap shut. A ragged growl stuck in her throat at his mischievous grin. After several deep breaths, she licked her lips and replied lowly, "What?"
If possible, his grin became even more boyish and charming. But it was the glint in his eye that disarmed Gwen most. Her eyes widened as she stared at him in wonder.
William stared unabashedly back, watching every tick of emotion cross her face and sift through her dark chocolate eyes. He knew all too well that she was capable of replicating the Roux's impenetrable stone facade and regal demeanor, but he liked her better this way: caught off guard, her unadulterated emotions painted across her face.
It wasn't the only thing he liked about her.
Her fiery spirit, her loyalty—though misplaced—the bright intelligence in her eyes, he liked it all. Tonight, he would finally see her outside the influence of the court. His gut clenched. Free from the scrutiny and influence of her household and courtier life, he hoped she'd show her true colors. Or, at the very least, let loose and give him the chance he'd been ready to beg for in his private lounge.
Clubbing was an unusual choice, but William had always loved to dance. In his human days, he'd often danced with his sister. It was a pleasure he didn't share with many, but with Gwen… well, as far as he was concerned, she could have all his dances for the rest of time.
The tantalizing thought must have shown through his gaze, for Gwen swiftly looked away, though not before he spotted the small pout on her lips. He'd seen her wear that look several times when she was worried or conflicted. He swallowed, his grin dropping a hair.
If he couldn't convince her to remain human and be with him…
If she was turned by the Roux and their soulmarks discovered…
They would torment her for the rest of her nights and make her feel ashamed for something outside her control.
William's thoughts drifted restlessly to Sebastian and Briar. Twenty years had passed since Briar left their ranks, and still, they lunged for her jugular. He didn't want Gwen to suffer that same fate.
Time was running short. He couldn't squander this opportunity here. Tonight needed to be a turning point in their unconventional relationship. He needed to know she felt an ounce of the spark he felt—not just mere attraction but an undeniable pull and chemistry. Then he'd tell her about the soulmark. Then their future could begin. William gulped at the thought.
The car thumped as it ran over a pothole and then another patch of roughened road. He glared at the driver.
"We aren't dressed to go clubbing," Gwen commented lightly, looking out her window.
He smirked, taming his heated gaze for the driver into one of hot intent for Gwen. "You're dressed as you ought to be."
"I'm too old for clubs," she muttered next.
William snorted, and her eyes snapped to him.
"You're too old? I'd hate to hear what you have to say about someone my age going into a dance club."
Despite her effort to keep a disapproving frown on her face, amusement twinkled in her eyes and twitched at the corner of her lips. William could tell she was biting her tongue to keep from retorting, and gods, did he want to take a bite of her. He'd love nothing better than to nibble at every inch of her soft flesh.
A pretty pink color infused her cheeks as he inclined toward her. Her lips parted as she eyed his approach, and he heard the telltale march of her pulse tick up. Inches separated them by the time the car drew to a stop. The driver politely coughed. Twice.
Gwen glanced away, breaking the mounting electric tension between them. Her gaze dove to her lap, where her fingers laid knotted together. What is this attraction between us? Why can’t I ignore it? And why was it so strong? She bit down savagely on the inside of her cheek as she glanced outside, her trepidation morphing from the irrefutable attraction to the graffiti-laden buildings boxing them in.
"Where are we?"
William exited the car and swiftly made his way around to Gwen's side, opening her door for her. She took his hand begrudgingly, tugging down the bottom of her slip dress as she stepped out. As the balmy air nipped at her skin, she wished desperately for the underwear she'd forgone at the insistence of her sisters.
Though William's eyes remained steadfast on her face, the tension in his body spoke volumes of his awareness to her body's reaction to the cold. Gwen exhaled a steady stream of air, maintaining eye contact as the car pulled away and left them in the deserted lot. A distant beat pulsed in the night air and filled the silence between them. He shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
"All right, sweet?"
Gwen nodded as he led them to a black metal door slashed with green spray paint. A breeze pushed at their backs as William hauled the door open. The cool, insistent touch chased a shiver up her spine. And then they were inside, where the pulsing beat was five times louder. Her eyes widened. The scent of booze and sweat clung to the air.
William tugged on her hand as the door slammed shut behind them. "Come on."
The farther they went, the hotter it became. The long hallway ended with a bouncer who would have inspired a healthy dose of fearful respect in Gwen if not for knowing what the man holding her hand was capable of. Behind the bouncer was another metal door—this one free of vandalism. He said nothing as they approached and allowed them entry with nothing more than a nod, opening the door for them.
At first, Gwen jerked away from the blast of music and the strobe lights that streaked across her field of vision. A second later, she was shuffling forward, her eager eyes eating up the scene before her. William stuck close to her side as they stepped out on the metal landing and looked below to the masses dancing in abandon to the DJ’s electronic set.
Gwen had never been clubbing before. The closest she'd gotten was an overpacked bar on New Year's Eve, where the dance floor had been filled by girls in sparkling dresses and its outskirts lined with men taking shots or chugging drinks. Movies and TV shows always showed clubs as upscale drug havens where bodies slithered against one another, and inhibitions were left to the wayside.
The latter was the only element they'd gotten right. People of all kinds littered the room, dressed to impress or hardly at all. Their bodies moved in tandem to the rhythm pounding out of the speakers. Before she knew it, her feet were taking her down the metal steps and deep into the heart of the crowd.
William followed in her wake, a deep satisfaction growing in him as the people made way for her. His eyes roamed over her backside freely, thoroughly enjoying the effortless sway of her hips as she navigated the crowd and the way the light penetrated the flimsy white garment she wore. It left nothing to the imagination.
He groaned low in his throat. If dinner was torture, then this was downright hell.
Some drunken man seemed to think the same as she passed by, reaching out toward her like some lovesick fool. William snatched his wrist before he got too close and squeezed. The man's face lost all color as his mouth dropped in a silent scream, the fragile bone snapping like a toothpick in William's hand. When the man's anguished voice finally surfaced, it was swallowed by the crowd, and William and Gwen were several feet away.
William glanced back and caught the man's eyes, livid with pain and anger. One cruel flash of his fangs and the fight left the man in favor of terror. Then they were lost to the sea of people or as lost as they could be.
She stopped them somewhere in the belly of the crowd, close enough to the DJ's stage that they could feel the music's pulse ripple over their skin. William counted the number of eyes drawn to the slow wind of Gwen's body and choked back a growl. He took his suit jacket—barely hanging on to her shoulders—and secured it around her waist. He didn't want to ruin the night by breaking more body parts.
William's glower fell away as he laid eyes upon Gwen's serpentine movements. He appreciated every lithe move, from the tips of her hands thrust above her head down to the sliding path her feet took. She moved languidly, tuning her pace to every eight-count instead of two like the rest of the mob. He groaned again and rolled up his sleeves as he stole into the space directly behind her.
Hell, he thought, as his hand skimmed the short hem of her dress and traveled up to her hip, bunching the material of his jacket further so he could enjoy the cool silk of her dress and the hot draw of flesh beneath. Her ass swayed tantalizingly over his lower half; pace unmoved by his presence. William hooked his other arm loosely around her waist, splaying his hand over her stomach. He ducked his head near her ear, inhaling her delicious aroma above the scent of the crowd. She'd washed her body and hair with some exotic floral mix, but underneath the perfumed product was pure Gwendolyn. A heady mix of spices and hot churning blood that called to him heart and soul.
Gwen found herself leaning back into William's body as his breath ghosted past the top of her ear. The music was trancelike, but it was William who left her hypnotized. She loved the firm grip he kept on her hip while his other hand mindlessly stroked her abdomen. Her back arched as his head dipped lower, his breath skimming over her neck and shoulder in even, cool pants. It was a delicious respite from the crowd and left her wholly attuned to him.
The crowd pressed in around them, crushing closer as the music escalated to its audience's energy. Gwen pushed herself flush against William, body hot and unused to being in a crowd like this: impulsive, giddy, throbbing, and alive.
"Let go," he commanded in a roughened purr, lips dragging over the shell of her ear and holding her close.
She shouldn't. Every rule Laurel and the Roux issued went against this… but she'd already gone past the line. A shiver coiled around her as she followed his command.
Dropping her reservations, she let the music command her body. The sway of her hips built to a wild cant as she twined her arms above her.
William's hands roamed her body with painstaking slowness, over her stomach, up the sides of her body, and dipping teasingly across her thigh just to drag his nails lightly over her skin till it puckered. Gwen's insides were turning molten, and it had nothing to do with the crush of the crowd.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd let loose like this. Though the court's parties were a hedonist's delight, she always exerted a certain amount of caution, being one of the few prey among a sea of predators. But here… here she was among the majority, dancing and enjoying the night without a care.
Was this what she missed out on all those years shackled to her father's company? She'd been too manipulated to venture far from his side and too scared to try. It was an ugly truth that left her shamed, but she wouldn't let such thoughts drag her down now.
The song transitioned to something darker that resonated deep in her belly. Gwen reached a hand back to twine around William's neck, keeping him close as a distant ache gnawed at her joints, the tincture's potency giving way slowly to her cancer's vitality. Soon, I’ll feel no pain at all. In the meantime, she would focus on the other, far more delicious ache building in her body.
Gwen ground back against William. Her ass pressed snug against the thick bulge he sported. She felt rather than heard his rumbled response, his chest vibrating as she moved sensually against him.
Longing stirred further in her, reaching out to touch her heart. Her throat tightened. With her longing came a seed of doubt. Doubt of her decision to be a vampyré, doubt in her decision to refuse William and his offer to stay human and die with him at her side. It terrified her.
Gwen sank more of her weight against him, slowing her movements as her thoughts ran rampant. He could plead his case until the third and final test took place, but her answer wouldn't change. It couldn't.
How long would she have to be with him if she made such a reckless decision? Especially without the aid of the tinctures to sustain her health and combat her cancer? A month? A couple of weeks? Days? It wasn't enough time.
Gwen spun herself around, looping both arms around his neck as she pressed her front against him. His thigh sank between her legs, readily offering a place for her aching center to alleviate the pressure building inside her. And, God, did she want it. His head swooped low to rest intimately against her, cheek to cheek. One large hand cupped her bottom, bringing her closer still. She breathed in his scent, caressing his dampened shirt before resting over his dead heart.
She glanced cautiously at his face. His eyes were closed, and his lips parted. He'd recently trimmed his beard. Whatever oil he'd used made the coarse hair soft and smell of clove and orange. Gwen's tongue wet her bottom lip as her eyes locked on his lips.
His other hand still teased her body with languid strokes, touching her but not. Not in the way she wanted him to be touching her.
No, she decided, we wouldn't have enough time together if I remained human. Not enough to satisfy her, at least. All their time would be spent on her pain management as she neared her final days. As a vampyré, though…. Hope soared in Gwen's heart. They could be lovers. They could be as Danica and Hans—not as openly at first, but eventually. And they would surely be a more acceptable couple seeing as William was reigning champion of the fighting pit and everlasting, just as she would soon be.
The bass dropped with a thunderous medley, and the crowd screamed its approval as strobe lights of neon greens and electric blues flickered off one by one, pitching the room into almost absolute darkness. Gwen sucked in a ragged breath as the galvanized crowd took advantage of the cover of darkness, their depravity sounding too close for comfort. Knowing what illicit activities were happening around them made the brush of William's lips along her neck all the more tantalizing.
Do it, a voice whispered in the back of her mind. A pang of want struck her core as she dug her fingernails into the back of his neck, silently urging him to take what he wanted. But he made no move. His hand continued to wander, and his lips stayed away from hers. She swallowed and tugged on his neck more firmly, but her insistence was ignored. The heat in her body grew. Gwen rose to the tips of her toes, closing the distance between them, and still nothing. Her pulse grew faster, and her eyes flashed up to meet his.
His metallic eyes stared back at her with clear want and a steely determination. Understanding rocketed through her. He wasn't going to make the first move. If Gwen wanted him, she would have to make the first move. It would have to be her choice.
He was well aware they stood at a precipice. Or rather, Gwen was. William would gladly dive headfirst into what would surely be the best kiss of his life, but he wasn't going to be the one to initiate. He'd already pushed his intentions on her far too much for his own liking. It would have to be Gwen, and he hoped beyond belief that she would take this leap.
His throat bobbed with uncertainty as she continued to stare into his glinting copper eyes, and then slowly—so slowly—her brown eyes moved to his mouth.
"Are you enjoyin' yourself, sweet?" He'd not spoken the question loud enough for her to hear, but her irises contracted as they followed the movement of his lips.
Gwen nodded and glanced up at him. "Are you?"
His first instinct was to tell her, yes, but he stopped himself short. Instead, he maneuvered his mouth to her ear and spoke a different truth. "It's torture here," William admitted, his hands keeping Gwen close as she tensed against him in confusion. "Being what I am… I don't experience the same things as you. Dancin' like this, all I can hear is the rush of blood around me. I can smell more than just these human bodies in the air. I smell desire in it too." She wiggled closer to him, her small but pert little breasts pressing against him and making his cock tighten further. "Laid out before me is a feast, and a part of me—a large part of me—wants to gorge and drink until every heartbeat in this room is silenced, just like mine. That's what it is to be immortal. The hunger is constant. Relentless."
Gwen sank back down to her heels. Her body was a bundle of nerves, both terrified and exhilarated. She leaned back to get a better look at him in the low light, struck speechless momentarily by his raw hunger. Except his hunger wasn't just for blood.
"Even me?" she asked breathlessly.
His gaze narrowed on her lips before he moved back in.
"Especially you."
A shudder ran through her.
Gwen didn't know what to say and, after a moment's hesitation, allowed her body to speak for her. William inhaled sharply as she angled her head to the side and offered him her neck. A second ticked by. A new bass beat thundered over the crowd, with lights cascading from every which way. He didn't move. She spied his stark longing, and a thrill ran through her. William's throat worked as he kept his lips pressed in a firm line.
"William." His whispered name brought his head whipping in her direction. Eyes locked, Gwen angled her head farther to the side. What she was offering was insane and in direct violation of the rules set by the Roux… but it felt right and terribly wicked all at once. It was sacrilege, another part of her screamed—only her sire was meant to taste her blood—but she couldn't care less.
