The Agency, Volume III Page 20

  "No you don't," I said, smiling. "But I can't help you there."

  "I know."

  I reached into my bag and pulled out a flask. "Fancy a drink?"

  He cocked his head to the side and stared at me for a minute--he must do that a lot--before saying, "Sure."

  I stepped back to let him past me, and caught a hint of his scent; immortals all have this underlying smell that's hard to define yet very distinctive, but over that was something else. Wild, musky, red-brown like earth and blood; he looked ethereal, but his actual energy was old and almost primal, edged with the smells of the wind and rain, and something a little like wool that I thought might be from the wings. Vampires can pick out twelve times more odors than humans can, and detect a drop of blood through ten feet of concrete, like a cadaver dog; if you ask us what something smells like it could take five minutes to get a full description. Layers upon layers of scent combine to tell us what we need to know about our prey: health, age, habits, genetics, travels.

  If I had to summarize Lex I'd say he smelled like a warm fuzzy blanket that could fuck you senseless or possibly fuck you up.

  I followed him into the rooftop apartment, curious what kind of home the Agency had come up with for such an odd creature and whether there'd be any actual furniture or just a perch and a bell. To my surprise, it was fairly normal, if you could ignore the windowless concrete walls and the fact that instead of a bed he seemed to have a giant nest in the corner. There were rugs and tapestries all over the place to insulate the room, a couple of shelves with a book collection including a lot of sheet music; a computer; and of course a music stand where he'd left his violin.

  He saw me looking at it and gave me an inquisitive eyebrow.

  "I met the guy who made that," I explained. "He was a total dick, but a genius."

  Lex smiled a little. "Do you play?"

  "Those? No," I said, taking the chair and handing him the flask. "I actually kind of hate the sound of violin music unless it's Jason playing, and that’s mostly because I’m used to him. Violin is usually so screechy. I do play bass, though, in a band, and a couple of other instruments well enough to suck. And I sing a little. I'm no prodigy, or anything, but I do all right."

  "I don't have any shot glasses," he said.

  I snorted. "So? The flask is good enough for me, as long as you don't mind getting my girl cooties."

  He actually chuckled and took an experimental sip from the flask, then a longer one; it was good Irish whiskey, of course. "As a matter of fact I happen to like girl cooties," he replied, making a face at the taste.

  "Really?"

  A nod. "I've only ever had two male lovers."

  "Jason, and the one that infected you?"

  He cast his eyes downward. "Yes. Chris died. He was the first. Before that it was all women."

  "So you didn't switch teams, you just broadened the playing field," I affirmed. "That's cool. I've slept with a couple of women myself, just to see what all the fuss was about."

  "Oh? What did you think?"

  I took a drink. "Slippery," I said. "And kind of boring. I can see why men think we're so frustrating--with men, it's easy to tell when things are over with. Women just go on and on and on and if you're not very experienced it's damn near impossible to figure out the timing. I thought I was going to get TMJ, I swear."

  He laughed. He had a very nice laugh, and his ears had gone a little pink. I handed the flask back to him. "Of course," he said, "Men have one serious disadvantage."

  "What's that?"

  "They're stupid," Lex replied.

  "Oh, totally. Especially the ones with awesome twin sisters."

  Lex smiled. Damn, he had a good smile too. "True."

  Two swaps of the flask later, I asked him, "So, you can fly?"

  He swallowed, still wincing at the bite of the alcohol--he obviously didn't drink much. "Sort of. I don't fly so much as glide. Humanoid bodies aren't really built for flapping wings, so the best I can do is let the wind currents carry me. I can't take off from the ground, either. Only from height."

  "I saw you earlier, downtown," I told him. "Just for a split second. Nobody else would have noticed."

  Lex nodded again. "I go out every night, just to get into the air. If I stay here too long I get anxious and depressed. Out there I feel free."

  "So...you have no idea who it is you're supposed to be protecting. What are you supposed to do in the meantime?"

  "I don't know," he replied, toying with the flask's cap. "I'll know when I see her. Other than that, I'm just...drifting."

  "But you know it's a woman."

  "Yes. I mean, I can feel that much. She's a woman, and she's known as the Singer. From what I've been told, which isn't a lot, she's probably some sort of Elf. A special one, like Rowan. But they won't tell me much else. I'm not...I'm not part of the team, apparently. Even though finding and protecting the Singer is my sole function. I guess I just stay here, and fly around Austin, and hope something changes someday."

  "Are you immortal? You're half vampire, right?"

  "Yes, and yes. Sort of."

  He sounded like he'd asked himself--and been asked--the same questions a thousand times. "It must be hard," I said. "Being stuck here, not knowing. And the one person who might have been able to help you is scared to see you."

  "Scared?" He half smiled. "I can't believe Jason is scared of anything. Except heights."

  "He's scared of a lot of things, mostly involving love. If you'd seen how long it took him to admit he was in love with Rowan, and what an idiot he was over that, you might not feel so bad."

  "I don't know...I think I'd feel pretty bad regardless. He did dump me, after all."

  "Well, like you said--he's stupid."

  He didn't answer, and I could practically taste his sadness; in fact I could smell it, as emotional disturbances register to us as scent the way nervous sweat and fear do to other predators. Ask me what sorrow smells like, and I'd have to say, sorrow; there's no translation. Imagine what it would smell like and you're probably right.

  "Come on," I said. "We need to get the hell out of here or next thing you know it’s Patsy Cline albums and crying into our beer."

  Lex lifted his eyebrows. "Where do you suggest we go? I don't exactly blend in."

  "Sure you could. What you need is a coat--something to cover those babies up so it just looks like outerwear. There are lots of pretty pale boys in Austin, trust me. We just have to find the right milieu. Clubs, dimly lit bars--we could get tattoos. You'd look even more spectacularly hot with tattoos."

  He stood up, watching me yank my coat from the chair with befuddled amusement, before the idea started to intrigue him. "Wait," he said. "I have a better idea. We can get tattoos another time...I mean, if..."

  I buttoned up my coat and reached over for his hand. "Come on," I said gently. "You know I don't hang out with losers, right? I think we can both use someone to talk to, who has no emotional agenda attached to our being together."

  He regarded me questioningly. "I would have thought you had a dozen friends in the Agency."

  "I do, but...nobody I can really talk to, who gets what it's like to be something inhuman with a human's desires. Jason and I aren't normal vampires any more than you are, you know. We mix with mortals, we cooperate with other races, we've been known to kill our own kind. We're race traitors. They hate us. And the humans fear us, so it's hard to find any real friends...except among the other Elder Races. Elves, a few ancient demon breeds...we all seem to understand each other. And you're a part of that now, Lex. There is a world out there of people who don't care what you look like."

  Lex blushed, and damned if it didn’t make him even sexier. "I don't think I'm ready for the world, Beck," he said.

  "All right, then, we'll start with me. Let's you and I go out somewhere."

  "Yes," he said, and led me out onto the catwalk. "Are you ready?"

  "Ready for what?"

  "Step up here, with me." He indicated the spac
e along the ledge, which I hopped up onto willingly enough, and forced myself not to look down.

  "Now what?" I asked.

  His smile became impish. "Now look down."

  "Oh fuck a bunch of that!"

  "Trust me, Beck. Look down."

  He moved behind me, his arms wrapping securely around my waist and over my chest, and I peered down over the edge at the streets of Austin hundreds of feet below. The farther I leaned, the more it seemed like I was simply floating out in the air, with nothing to hold...me...up...

  "HOLY SHIT!" I screamed as Lex pushed off from the ledge, opening his wings with a loud snap above our heads. I felt myself falling, his arms still around me, until his wings gained purchase in the wind currents and we rose, dipping down over the street and rising, higher and higher, in slow spirals around the bank tower, then up past where we had started. If anyone down there saw us, they made no sign of it, and went about their busy lives with no idea there was a guardian Angel and a vampire flying over their heads.

  He angled out over downtown, and I clung to the arm that held my chest, my shrieks of terror turning into shrieks of laughter. Higher, and higher, catching the updrafts and dancing through the downdrafts, dipping down along the lake so closely I could see the fish beneath the water's edge. We flew underneath the Congress bat bridge, empty at this time of night, and emerged as the biggest bat to ever fly from beneath it.

  All the while his body was hot and hard against my back, holding me steady, and though I was exposed to the wind and facedown toward the street I'd never felt so safe on a plane, or anywhere...anywhere, ever. Not for one second did I think I might slip from his grasp, and even if I did, I knew in my bones he would catch me.

  He was laughing in my ear, and I laughed right back, squeezing his wrists, loving the feel of his muscles flexing and extending behind me, his chest expanding and contracting to control wing movements, thighs gripping me tight to stabilize us.

  The hand wrapped around my waist slid down just a little, and I reached up and pulled it down even more until it curved around my thigh. There was a stirring in his body--so he'd been telling the truth about girl cooties after all. I pressed my hips back against him and he gasped and nearly lost altitude.

  I laughed merrily and joyfully as we soared over the city, making great circles over downtown expanding outward to Hyde Park, Zilker Park, Westlake. It grew more and more difficult to pay attention to the sights, however, with the heat of his body over mine, and his hands trying so very politely not to roam.

  I twisted to the side in his arms, causing him to lean over and barrel-roll, my stomach left behind about twenty yards back; I shook off the dizziness and turned myself over in his embrace so we were face to face.

  I ran my hands down his sides, then wrapped one palm around his neck and pulled his mouth to mine, forcibly, half expecting an argument.

  No argument there. He kissed back, opening his mouth to let my tongue make its ostentatious entrance, and before his lack of attention could slam us into the side of a hotel building, I moved my mouth down to place a solid bite where his neck joined his shoulder.

  A low growl erupted from his throat, and he seized my hips, trying to get his hands into my pants and still stay aloft. I laughed. "Honey, light somewhere," I breathed into his ear.

  We slowed, and jerked backwards, lurching my stomach yet again; I felt the solid impact of his feet with some sort of ledge, and I barely glanced over to see we had landed on the side of another building, on a ledge about a foot wide. His back was wedged up against the glass windows, wings spread out around us, and I hitched my hips over his waist, shoving my pants down just far enough while doing the same for him.

  We frantically sought each other's bodies, me climbing up his torso and his hands pulling and yanking fabric aside, until there was a pause, and I stared directly into his eyes, asking permission but not demanding...yet.

  Slowly, he nodded. Then he smiled.

  I grinned in return and, with patience that had been known to drive men insane, lowered my hips, sliding down onto his hard length, pulling him forcefully into me, both of us groaning deeply at the plunge. He was nearly scalding hot to the touch, and just the right thickness, so strong that all I had to do was rock my hips up and around, in slow circles, and his hands supported my ass and thighs. I leaned forward on his chest, nails in his shoulders, luxuriating in the way he filled me, the delicious wet friction, and the sweet little animal noises he made.

  "Slippery," he breathed, smiling.

  Suddenly I wanted to be back in a bed, where I could climb all over him, suck and nibble every inch and scream into the pillows when he fucked me on my hands and knees.

  He seemed to agree, or at least bow to my wishes, and wrapped his arms around me, falling sideways off the ledge and taking me with him, my limbs still wound around him, our bodies still joined, and still fucking. His wings snapped open and angled us toward the south, back to the Winchester, and I lost no time. I redoubled my efforts, arching up against him over and over, tightening my muscles around him, reaching up to stroke the furry underside of one wing.

  We made it back to the Winchester, just barely, and nearly ripped the gate from its hinges, but somehow we got to the nest. We tumbled into the blankets, and I spared the thought that the nest was really soft and comfortable before my attention was wrenched back to the moment. He moved over me, the scant light of the room blocked out entirely by his wings, and all I could see in the dark were his eyes, ringed with silver the way I was sure mine were too.

  Between the flight back and the urgency of landing, he didn’t last much longer. We collapsed into a heap trying to catch our breath, and I could feel his heart pounding wildly against my chest. He was still bracing himself partway with his arms to keep from being too heavy on me, and that struck me as incredibly sweet, albeit unnecessary.

  “I’m stronger than I look,” I panted, tapping his forearm with one finger. “Lay down.”

  He grunted and pitched himself slightly sideways so he settled next to me, his right wing acting as a sheet over my body from neck to knees, although the last thing in the world I needed was more warmth. I had to laugh—we were both still clothed, and I even had my boots on. My pants were down over my hips. So were his.

  He seemed to see the humor in it too, and grinned, then moved down and started unbuckling and unzipping my boots, setting one and then the other on the floor by the bed. I lay back, smiling, and let him take care of the rest; when he got to the corset he looked a little stymied at first, but I chuckled and rolled onto my stomach so he could reach the laces.

  I felt his long, sharp nails picking lightly at the laces and loosening them until the whole thing basically fell off. I wriggled out of it and tossed it, with my pants, over the side.

  He was watching me appreciatively as I stretched my arms and legs and relaxed into the pillows. One of his nails traced the length of my tattoo down my side, following the vine that twined down my leg, and I got goosebumps from the slight tickling sensation.

  “Your turn,” I told him.

  Another smile, but he didn’t expect me to do the work. He shucked his clothes with far less care and returned to me, leaning in to lick the side of my neck and nibble his delicate way along my collarbone.

  “You do need tattoos,” I murmured, running my hands down his arms. “I’m picturing something tribal here…maybe curving over here…” I drew a swirling line from his shoulder to his nipple. “Stark black ink, a nice contrast with your skin. I could design something, if you want. I did mine.”

  “That would be lovely,” he said, “but I don’t have the money for that kind of work. You’d be surprise how low the pay is for doing absolutely nothing useful.”

  “I can help. I’ve got more cash than I know what to do with. And the guy who does my ink gives a Creature of the Night Discount.”

  “Why…why would you do that?” he asked almost shyly, lifting his head to look in my face. “You barely know me.”


  I shrugged, trying to keep my tone flippant. “Maybe because I think you got a raw deal in all of this. Maybe to piss my brother off. Maybe just for the fun of it. Maybe…maybe because, like I said, I don’t have a lot of friends. I don’t have anyone to do stuff for. Plus, watching people get tattooed turns me on.”

  “Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow. “By all means, then.”

  We lay kissing and nipping at each other idly for a while before he asked me quietly, “Are you going to tell your brother about this?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think he needs to know, do you?”

  “No. I mean, if this is a one-time thing…but if not I don't want things to get complicated."