Page 94
Story: Ophelia's Vampire
“We weren’t getting anywhere anyway,” Cas says, stepping behind me and pressing his bare, muscled torso against my back. I shiver when his lips find the mark at the side of my throat, the one he just reopened a few minutes ago. Healed over, but still tender and pulsing as he presses a kiss there. “And I, for one, find our other activities a much more rewarding use of our time. Since we seem to have hit a dead end.”
He’s right.
Maybe not about how productive a use of time it might be to trade oral when we’ve got other work to do, but definitely about being at a dead end.
We’ve made no progress identifying the other two supposed victims or determining what kind of connection they have with the campaign. However stupid Haverstad might be for cooking up this plan in the first place, he’s apparently got people working for him who know how to keep a secret. We’ve run down every half-baked lead we’ve been able to come up with, and have nothing to show for it.
It’s left us with a lot of time on our hands and not a whole hell of a lot to do with it.
Well.
Other than jumping Cas every single chance I get.
I have never, in my entire life, had sex this good.
And even though I know I shouldn’t be so fixated on or distracted by it when there are more important matters at hand, I can’t seem to get myself to stop.
To be fair, neither can Cas. Between the two of us, it’s like we’re trying to set some sort of record for orgasms achieved in a single week.
In his bed, in the shower, in the kitchen and study and against the foyer wall when we could barely keep our hands off each other as we stepped through the front door last night.
Even once in my van, when Cas found me out there grabbing some clothes and got all brooding and bossy with me when he thought I was getting ready to move out of his house.
Fat chance of that.
Another stupid decision, probably, but one I’m not willing to reconsider. Between the massive bed, the fireplaces, the ridiculously luxurious kitchen and bathrooms, I’m absolutely going to enjoy his house as long as I’m welcome in it.
Even if I’m not sure exactly how long that will be.
Cas made it pretty damn clear seven years ago he wasn’t interested in a bloodbond. Or, at least, not one with me. Though I suppose it's possible for things to change with time, I can’t imagine a few days of good sex are enough to shift that fundamental truth that’s been hanging around the back of my mind for the last few days.
There’s no future for me and Cas. Not really.
Even disregarding the fact that I’ll be back on the road when things are wrapped up—maybe back to Seattle, maybe somewhere warmer to pick up some jobs over the winter—he hasn’t given me any sign that he’s looking for… more than this.
And I’m alright with that. I am.
I think I am.
More than anything, I don’t want to ruin this. If growing up with a family and circle of community who are mostly all goingto outlive me by centuries has taught me anything, it’s not to dwell on the future, and not to let tomorrow’s worry steal today’s joy.
So I’m going to savor this. I’m going to savor Cas and this time together and not worry too much about how it’s all going to end.
“Enough for today,” Cas says, still teasing kisses and little nips against my neck. “We both could use a mental break, and I’ve got somewhere else to be tonight.”
He steps away and starts gathering up papers from where our earlier activities scattered them across the desk and onto the floor.
“Alright,” I say, trying to stifle my curiosity and ignore the urge to ask him where he’s going.
We’ve already agreed to be forthcoming with each other about anything that has to do with the case, so I have to trust that whatever it is doesn’t concern me. It probably has something to do with whatever other business he gets up to.
I’m guessing that business has to do with dealing art, or jewels, or information, or maybe just anything that’s got a steep price attached to it, based on the bits and pieces of information and off-hand comments from Cas I’ve been able to string together. But he hasn’t talked a lot about it, and again, I’m not going to pry.
I’m not going to try to make this thing between us into something it’s not.
But Cas has always been annoyingly preceptive. He glances over, eyes narrowing like he can read all that painful curiosity on my face.
“I’m going to a party,” he explains. “And while I’m there, I plan on catching up with an old friend who might so happen to have a lead on a set of jewels I’m after. Martin’s never one fordoing business during any normal hours, so it’s my best chance to catch him.”
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