Callie's Shadow Ch. 11

Angel woke with a jerk, her eyes searching the familiar room, hearing Marcus breathing so close to her. Sitting up, she stared down at him. "You're right," she whispered. "Those things don't matter. But I'm not going to let Dorian get his hands on you. I can't let you be hurt because of me." She glanced at the time knowing by instinct that the sun was beginning to set.

Sliding out of her bed, she walked over to her bathroom, pulling open the double doors and closing them quietly behind her. The white robe fell from her shoulders as she walked over to the huge shower. The silk was a pretty contrast against the pale rose colored tiles that covered the floor. Minty green towels hung over a towel warmer, a silly extravagance that her father had thought she would enjoy. Why would a vampire need warm towels?

She smiled at the thought, though it was a sad smile. Dorian had made his intentions crystal clear in that dream. If she didn't come to him, she would find Marcus broken and beaten. She couldn't allow that to happen, she wouldn't. He wanted her. Maybe if he had her he would be satisfied and leave her friends alone.

The water in the shower sluiced over her, washing away the last bit of the dream. She picked up her favorite shampoo, smelling the sweetness of vanilla as she poured it into her hand.

"Whoa, girl. That's my job." Marcus stepped into the shower, shivering at the temperature she had it set at. He reached over, warming it up several degrees from the ice cubes she'd had rushing down her. "Give me that."

Angel let him take the shampoo from her hands, feeling his fingers stroking through her wet tresses, gathering them in one large palm. She could still smell the vanilla as he started soaping her hair.

"You didn't wake me up," he said suddenly.

"I wanted to let you sleep. We still have time before we have to go to work." She kept her face averted from his, knowing he would see the truth in her eyes no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

"I can't sleep without you," he said suddenly, turning her face up to his. "I want you to marry me."

Pain, rich and hot, slammed through her. Tears she fought to hide trembled bitterly against her lashes. "Marcus, we...we don't need to talk about this now."

"Something's happened," he said, studying her face. "It's that Dorian character again, isn't it. He got to you somehow. Tell me," he ordered, his hands on her shoulders.

"There's nothing to tell, Marcus. I-I was wrong last night. There are too many differences in our lives. We'd never be able to make a go of it."

He stared down at her, the look on his face was one of disbelief. "I can't believe you're saying this, Angel. What the hell is going on? Talk to me," he begged.

"Nothing is going on. I-I made a mistake and I have to put things right before they go too far and one of us gets hurt."

"Gets hurt?" Marcus roared. "You don't think I'm not hurt by this? You tell me you love me, you sleep with me, lead me on and the say oh, sorry, it was a mistake? No fucking way. You're hiding something." He stepped forward, backing her into the corner of the shower. "Tell me what you're hiding, Angel."

The demand in his voice struck a chord in Angel. No, not a chord but a huge pile of pissed off. It spilled out of her and she took a step forward, shoving her finger into his chest. "You don't order me around," she growled, her fangs flashing in the overhead lights. "Don't patronize or tell me what I'm feeling. Did you ever think that you might have just been an itch I needed scratched? Consider yourself scratched." She took a minute to rinse the soap from her hair, stalking by him, her head high.

Gathering a towel into her arms, she flipped it open and then threw it over her shoulders, walking back into her bedroom. She'd get dressed and get out of here.

"No." Marcus came out of the bathroom, his incredibly honed body still dripping wet. He shook the damp golden curls out of his eyes as he reached for her. "You may be done, but I'm sure as hell not." He lifted her by her arms, tossing her in the middle of her bed and following her down.

"Marcus," Angel said, the hard look in his eyes scaring her. "Don't," she gasped as his mouth found hers, hot, hard and hungry. His hands ripped the towel away from her before running down her body, curving around her thighs and parting them. His body slid into hers too easily, the violence he was showing her calling to the part of her that craved his domination.

"You want me, admit it," he growled against her lips, his hips moving in a harsh rhythm with enough force to have her whole body jerking at every thrust.

"Just because I want you doesn't mean I love you," she managed to get out between her gritted teeth. She moaned, her eyes locking on his throat, her body craving the rich taste of his blood.

A hard smile touched his lips as he noted where her gaze rested. Reaching around his neck, he pushed aside the wet curls that clung to his skin. "Hungry?" he asked harshly.

"No," she said, shaking her head but her eyes gave away the lust she had for his blood, needing that tie to him even as she fought it.

"You do, you want this, you want me. You're being stubborn." There was a note in his voice, a desperation that she couldn't help but hear.

"Yes, okay, I want to feed. I'm hungry and your blood has a kick like nothing I've ever tasted before."

"Do it," he said. "If this is it for us, then do it." He lifted his head, baring his throat to her.

Angel was more scared of this than of anything but seeing him hurt. Feeding involved an intimacy that was so much more than sex. There was pleasure for both parties. But she couldn't resist. Her fangs lengthened, her mouth grew moist with longing and she trailed her fingers over the pulse throbbing there at the base of his neck.

Closing her eyes, she breathed in his scent, the musky smell of his flesh, the scent of his blood that was pounding just beneath his skin. She leaned up, her teeth barely touching his neck.

Marcus grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head up, feeling the sharp points of her fangs break the skin. She bit down and he groaned, an anguished sound that had tears in her eyes even as she fed hungrily from him.

Rich and thick, his blood flowed like honey into her mouth. It was sweet, like some kind of heavenly nectar. She could feel it filling her veins, flowing through her body, making her feel strong. She felt invincible. She swallowed as quickly as she could, knowing she'd have to let go soon.

Angel could feel him trembling, she could hear his panting breathing. He moved over her faster, fucking her with long strokes that had her entire body tensing in pleasured pain. Reluctantly, she released him, her tongue sliding over the tiny wounds her teeth had made, licking away the rest of his blood and closing the wounds. In ten minutes, they would be healed as if they'd never been there. But now her head was spinning, her body writhing under him. She pressed her breasts against his massive chest, her nipples like hard little pebbles, pushing into him.

Her hips rose, meeting his thrust. She groaned when he pulled away, flipping her over to her belly before lifting her easily to her hands and knees. When she tried to wiggle away, he slapped his hand over her ass, his wide palm making a loud slapping noise.

He pushed into her from behind, going slowly until his body pressed against her hips. Leaning over her, he teased her ear with his tongue. "Beg, Angel," he growled. "If you want me to let you come, beg for it."

Angel shook her head. "No."

"I guess I'll have to see what I can do to make that a yes." He slid his hands from her hips, moving them over her waist and then around her body, finding her nipples with his fingers. Pulling on them, he twisted and played with the hard brown tips. She squirmed under him, trying to move enough to rub her clit against his cock, but he held her still easily.

Marcus pulled his hand away from her breast, letting his wide palm rest against her stomach. His fingers touched the top of her mound, the soft white blonde fur crinkling under his teasing. Moving it slowly downward, he found the top of her slit, feeling her moisture already gathering, coating his finger tips.

"I'm going to fuck you now. I'm going to make you come so hard that you'll beg me not to leave." He wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her up easily, his other hand still slipping slowly over her clit. Her back pushed back against his chest, he started thrusting into her again, using his arm around her waist to hold her still.

She whimpered, the assault on her senses as well as his blood in her body combined to make her so sensitive it was almost as if she were having one continuous orgasm, shards of pleasure bursting only to fall back and burst again and again. "Marcus," she groaned, her hands roaming over his thighs, her head turning, searching for his lips.

He grunted in response, his body on a hair trigger. He was staving off his own orgasm by sheer will. Pushing her back down on the bed, he grabbed her hips in his hands, using them to pull her back against him, plunging deep. Their bodies slapped together, sounding loud in the semi quiet of the room.

Angel arched her back, pushing back harder. Marcus filled her like no other lover had, he knew her better than anyone did, saw through her easier. He ignored her moods, slapped down her bullshit and could take anything she threw at him.

In bed, well he was everything a War god should be. She loved him. Her mouth opened and she cried out his name as a rushing wall of bliss fell over her. She heard his cry echo, heard the words he spoke as tears slipped down her cheeks.

Marcus didn't let go of her, instead, he fell to his side, pulling her with him. "Tell me you love me," he ordered her.

"I love you," she said, her voice sounding more like that of some automaton than a woman. Her eyes were dead looking when he turned her face up to his and she closed them slowly, unwilling to look at him. "Now will you go?"

He reared back as if she'd slapped him, his cock slipping free of her body. Marcus stared at her rigid back, confusion and hurt warring for dominance in his eyes. "You want me to leave?"

She nodded her head, averting her face. "Go, please."

Marcus rose, more confused than before. "I love you Angel, I'm not giving up on this thing between us. I've never felt more alive, more at peace with myself than when I'm with you. I'll leave, but as soon as I take care of this little problem between us, I'll be back." He grabbed his pants, pulling them on. Without another word, he strode from the room and slammed out the apartment door.

Taking the steps two at a time, he didn't even wait until he was on the street before he unfurled his wings, leaping into the air and soaring away.

Angel sat up on the bed, her body still tingling with what Marcus had done to her. She could feel aches and pains from his rough treatment, relishing the slight pain because it kept the harsher, sharper pain of his leaving away. How was she ever going to handle seeing him at work? Maybe she should call in, or quit.

"I can't quit," she whispered, wiping at the tears that were streaming down her face. She heard the door to her apartment open and then slam closed. "He's gone." Fresh tears filled her eyes and she replayed the last words he'd said to her in her mind. "What little problem between us?" she asked herself slowly, her eyes darting around the room. "Dorian!"

Forgetting about everything but Marcus, she rushed from the room and out the door, taking the steps to the street in bounding leaps. "Marcus! You idiot, get back here. You can't go after Dorian on your own!"

But he was already gone. Like a tiny snowflake, a single downy feather fell in front of her. She caught it, holding it in her fist as she scanned the sky. Then she turned, rushing down the stairs. She had to find Callie and Shadow.

"I love you."

The words seemed to hang in the air between them, heavy and irretrievable. Callie felt her face begin to flame and a bubble of hurt and resentment burned inside of her. "You don't have to say them back," she said, trying to act nonchalant about what she'd said. "I mean, I just wanted to let you know how I felt."

Sitting up, she scooted over to the side of the bed, staring at her hands. She'd never been in this situation before and she didn't know how to get out of it gracefully.

Brian stared at her back, stunned. "Wait," he managed to force out. "Say it again." He sat up, reaching for her. She was stiff, not wanting to let him touch her. He got out of the bed, kneeling at her feet. "Please Callie. Say it again."

She stared down at him, naked and kneeling at her feet. A small smile touched her lips. "I kind of like you there," she couldn't help but tease.

"Don't get used to it," he said dryly. "Now, please, say it again.

"Brian," she said softly, her palm sliding across his cheek. "I love you."

His smile was wide, his blue eyes dancing. "I love you, too." With a shout of laughter, he rose to his feet, grabbing her around the waist and swinging her around the room.

Callie wrapped her arms around his neck, giggling at his antics. When he finally finished, setting her gently on her feet, she rose on tiptoe. "Say it again," she teased.

"Callie Wolfe, I have loved you since the first moment you walked into my office. That door opened and I looked up and never knew what hit me." He bent, swinging her up in his arms and taking her back to the bed.

She held onto him, pulling him down with her. "You looked so mean that day. I thought you were mad about who I was. I never asked for special treatment or consideration because of my father."

"I know that. Speaking of him, you know you aren't marrying that Kent guy, don't you?"

"I kind of figured that one out myself." She paused and a frown crossed her face.

Brian dropped a kiss onto her nose, his fingers smoothing out the wrinkles in her brow. "I'll go with you," he offered.

"You would? You'd face my father in his own study?"

"Since I don't want to follow you to England and have an affair with a married woman, I guess I'll have to." His hands began to roam over her again, his mouth dropping to nuzzle against her throat. "I can't afford to buy huge yellow diamonds."

"That thing was so gaudy," she admitted with a giggle. "I was always afraid it was going to fall off or I was going to get mugged wearing it."

"What about work?"

"What about work?" she repeated.

"Well, Daniels might not like us seeing each other."

"Fuck Daniels," Callie said, arching her head back to give him better access to her throat.

"To put it in Callie words, ewww, no thanks."

"Smart ass, you know what I meant. Why does he even have to know?"

Brian lifted his head, gazing down at her with a shocked look on his face. "Callie Anne Wolfe, are you planning on keeping me on the side? I never thought I would be looked at as little more than a sexual object. I'm shocked at you."

Callie rolled her eyes, laughing despite herself. She sobered suddenly, rolling to her side to face him. "I don't even know how old you are," she said quietly, tracing a pattern across his chest.

His hand slipped over hers, pressing her palm flat against his chest. "You've only got to ask, gorgeous."

"How old are you?"

"I was born in 1910. My mom and dad were German immigrants. We lived in a little area of New York City where people like my parents seemed to settle."

"You're almost one hundred years old?" Callie stared at him in amazement. He seemed a little over thirty though she wasn't a great judge of age. "You look pretty good for an old geezer."

"Thanks, I try to eat right and exercise daily."

"What happened to you?"

Shadow settled back on his back, reaching down to pick up the comforter to throw over the two of them. He dragged her closer, settling her head in the crook of his neck. "It's kind of a long story," he said.

"I wasn't planning on going anywhere today, you?"

"Nope," he sighed. "My parents worked really hard and put me in school. They knew that in this new land they were living in, education was the way to make something of yourself. We pinched pennies and scrimped and saved so that they could send me to college."

"They sound like wonderful people."

Brian smiled, his fingers tangling in the trailing tresses of her hair as it lay across his chest. "My dad had a voice that could set the dishes in the cupboard to rattling. But he was all gruff and no bite. My mom had apple cheeks and could make a strudel that would have your taste buds believing in heaven. We didn't have much, but we had each other and my little sister, Gretchen."

"You have a sister?"

"Had, she passed away in 1972. She'd thought I died in 1945, everybody did. They had to. No one really knew what to make of me when I came out of the desert in New Mexico."

"Isn't that where they did bomb testings?" Callie asked, wrinkling her forehead.

"Where we did tests," he corrected mildly. "I love science, I always have. My parents scraped enough money together to get me started in college and I quickly proved myself to my teachers. I earned scholarships and one of the professors found me a mentor, a wealthy man who helped to finish paying for my studies. All they asked was that I spend a year or two working for the government on a few little projects they had laying around. I was so gullible back then. So after I graduated, I went to work for the government, helping out a team who was set on building the Atom bomb."

"I'd never really given it much thought, you know, what the government would do with the science after we perfected it. The destruction ratio was unbelievable. So we took it out into the desert, and we blew it up. Bomb after bomb we set off out there until we had it perfect. Our first successful bomb test was in July of 1945. Then we built 'little boy'."

"What's that?"

"You've heard of the Hiroshima bomb? It got the nickname of 'little boy'. We built it, we built the securing cage on the Enola Gay. August 6, 1945, the crew of the Enola flew over Hiroshima and dropped 'little boy'. By that time, the radiation poisoning that I'd contracted was so bad, I was out of my mind."

He was quiet for a moment and Callie knew that he was seeing those events as if he were reliving them. "What happened then?" she asked softly.

"I somehow made it to the desert. I wandered out there, alone, sick, delirious for I'm not sure how long. I have a memory of lying in the sand, feeling it scour over my skin which was already fall off of me. Then a strange looking face blocked my vision of the sun. He picked me up and took me back to his town. They gave me herbs, concoctions, some of it so nasty tasting I don't know how I got it down. But I did. I woke up twenty-six days from the day he'd found me in the desert and I was alive, weak but alive."

"So like Spiderman getting bitten by that radioactive spider, you had your powers?" Callie asked.

"Something like that," he said, rolling his eyes at her. "It was a mixture of the drugs and the radiation. I was different, changed by what had happened. I found that I could change shape, I could mix my molecular structure in with walls or windows, or whatever. I could literally walk through walls. At first, it wasn't a pleasant procedure but I got used to it."

"What happened when you came out of the desert?"

"The police found me. I was on a list that the government had sent out. They took me to this installation." He frowned. "Let's just say that I wasn't happy with the things they did there. I took off, became just another invisible person in a land full of them."

"And then you got involved with my father and ASP, then met me and fell in love. Now we get to live happily ever after, right?"