Burned (House of Night #7)(76)

"Okay, now," he said, reaching for her.

When their bare skins touched, Stevie Rae thought she'd explode. This was what she needed. Her skin was ultrasensitive, and everywhere Dallas touched, he scalded her, but in a very, very good way because Stevie Rae needed to be touched. She had to be touched and loved and possessed over and over to wipe away everything: Nicole, the dead kids, fear for Zoey, and Rephaim. Always, before anything else, there was Rephaim.

Dallas's touch seared him away. Stevie Rae knew she was still Imprinted with Rephaim - she could never forget that - but just then, with the slick heat of Dallas's sweaty skin smooth and human and real against hers, Rephaim seemed so distant. It was almost as if he was moving away from her . . . letting her go . . .

"You can bite me if you want to." Dallas's breath was warm against her ear. "Really. It's fine. I want you to."

He was on top of her, and he shifted his weight so that the curve of his neck was pressed against her lips. She kissed his skin, and let her tongue taste him, feeling the pulse there and the ancient rhythm of it.

Stevie Rae replaced her tongue with her fingernail, caressing lightly, finding the perfect spot to pierce so that she could drink from him. Dallas moaned, anticipating what was to come. She could give him pleasure, and take from him at the same time. It was the way it worked with mates - it was the way things were meant to be. It would be quick, easy, and feel really, really good.

If I drink from him, my Imprint with Rephaim will break. The thought made her hesitate. Stevie Rae stopped, one sharp fingernail tip pressed against Dallas's neck. No, a High Priestess can have a mate and a consort, she told herself.

But it was a lie - at least for Stevie Rae it was. She knew, in the deepest recess of her heart, that her Imprint with Rephaim was something unique. It wouldn't follow the rules that usually bound a vam-pyre to her consort. It was strong - amazingly strong. And maybe it was because of that unusual strength that she couldn't bind herself to any other guy.

If I drink from Dallas, my Imprint with Rephaim will break.

The knowledge was a cold certainty within her.

And then what about the debt she'd agreed to pay? Could she be bound to Rephaim's humanity without being Imprinted with him?

It was a question that wasn't to be answered because at that moment from behind them, as if conjured by her thoughts, Rephaim shouted, "Do not do this to us, Stevie Rae!"

Chapter Twenty-Three

Rephaim

Rephaim felt her anger and wondered if he would be able to tell whether or not it was directed at him.

He purposely focused his thoughts on Stevie Rae, allowing the blood thread that tied them to strengthen.

More anger. It poured through their bond, and the force of her ire surprised him though he could feel that she was attempting to hold herself in check.

No. Her fury wasn't aimed at him. Someone else was rousing her - someone else was the focus of her aggression.

He pitied the poor fool. Had he been a lesser being, he would have laughed sardonically and wished the hapless fellow well.

It was time he put Stevie Rae out of his mind.

Rephaim kept flying east, tasting the night with his powerful wings, reveling in his freedom.

He didn't need her now. He was whole. He was strong. He was himself again.

Rephaim didn't need the Red One. She was only the vessel through which he'd been saved. The truth was her reaction to seeing him whole again proved theirs was a tie that needed to be severed.

Rephaim slowed, feeling unexpectedly weighed down by his thoughts. He landed on a gentle rise of land covered by old pin oaks. Standing on the little hillock, he gazed back the way he'd come, considering

Why did she reject me?

Had he frightened her? That didn't seem possible. She'd seen him whole when he'd entered the circle.

He'd been fully healed when he'd faced Darkness.

For her he'd faced Darkness!

Absently, Rephaim reached back and rubbed at the base of his wings. His skin felt smooth under his fingers. There was no physical wound left. Stevie Rae had completely healed him from Darkness's wrath.

And then she'd turned from him as if she'd suddenly seen him as a monster and not a man.

But I am not a man! Thoughts blasted through Rephaim's mind. She knew what I was! Why turn from me after everything we've been through?

Her behavior utterly baffled him. She'd called for him when she'd been in terror for her life -  frightened beyond thinking, Stevie Rae had called for him.

He'd answered her call and gone to her, saved her.

I claimed her as my own.

And then, weeping, she'd run away from him. Yes, he'd seen her tears, but he hadn't known what he'd done to cause them.

With a deep cry of frustration, he threw his hands in the air, as if to rid himself of even the thought of her, and moonlight glinted off his palms. Rephaim stilled. Holding his arms out, he looked at them as if seeing them for the first time. He had a man's arms. She'd held his hands. He'd even cradled her in his arms, though it had only been briefly as they'd escaped immolation on the rooftop. His skin was really no different than hers. His was browner, perhaps, but only a little. And his arms were strong . . . well made

By all the gods, what was wrong with him? It didn't matter what his arms looked like. She would never truly be his. How could he even imagine it? It was beyond all thoughts - beyond even the wildest of his dreams.