Chapter Thirty-four

Once in the hall, Jon had no idea which direction to go, but when Richie ran out the door and called out, "This way," as he ran off down the hall to the left, Jon followed him. There was a guard outside Mac’s door. Kristoff had taken that precaution, knowing Jon would leave the courtroom with or without permission from the Council. The guard stopped them from entering the room, but Kristoff came running around the corner and slid to a stop beside Jon.

"He has permission from the Council to be here," Kristoff told the guard.

"She’s in bad shape, Jon," Richie warned.

"How long has she went without blood?" Jon asked.

"The last blood she had was before the end of Caleb’s trial. The next blood I brought her she refused," Kristoff answered.

"I’m gonna need to have extra blood before I can give her all she needs," Jon told him. "I’ll get started now, then feed, then feed her again."

With the most serious look Jon had ever seen on Richie’s face, the guitarist held out his wrist, offering it to Jon. "Take what you need."

Jon shook his head. "I can’t take that much from you."

"Then take enough to get this started," Richie replied quickly.

Jon looked at the assembled group, then at Richie, "Let’s do this inside. And Kris, get us a bag of ice. Quickly, please."

Kristoff nodded and hurried off to get the requested ice.

Once in the room, Richie sat on the sofa where he’d been sleeping and offered his wrist again. Jon shook his head again, but before Richie could protest, he quickly explained, "I wanna see her first. I’ll be right back."

Richie nodded his acceptance, understanding completely. Jon disappeared through the door into Mac’s bedroom. What he found there made him pale instantly and almost cry out. She looked like death itself. At first, Jon thought he was too late, but he heard her ragged breathing and rushed to the side of her bed.

"Mac," he said softly, tenderly brushing the hair off her forehead. "I’m here, baby. We’ll fix this and you’ll be fine in no time." He bent to gently kiss her forehead. "I’ll be right back, moglie mia."

Reluctantly, he left her and went back out to find Richie still waiting on the sofa and Kristoff back with the bag of ice. "I should warn you, I’ve never fed from a man before," Jon admitted to Richie. He took the bag of ice from Kristoff and handed it to Richie. "Put this in your lap," he ordered.

"Why?" Richie asked.

"Just do it," Jon ordered harshly. "I wanna be able to look you in the eye after this, and just trust me, you’ll thank me later." He turned to Kristoff. "Will you leave us alone now, please?"

The Russian nodded. "Of course, tell the guard outside if you need anything else."

When Kristoff had left the room, Richie gave Jon a questioning look. "It’s a very sexual experience, Rich," Jon explained. "You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, and if you wanna back out, I’ll understand."

"Let’s just get it over with," Richie said with a quick nod.

Jon took Richie’s offered hand in his, and reached out to his friend’s mind. There was the expected resistance, then Richie opened his mind to Jon. Close your eyes and lean back, he told the guitarist. Relax. Jon watched as Richie did what he’d told him. He didn’t even question why he was able to get into Richie’s head.

Richie’s eyes popped open wide, when a wave of pleasure washed over him. He’d expected pain when Jon’s fangs pierced the tender skin of his wrist. Not this indescribable, incredible, pleasure. Chocolate brown eyes met sky blue ones before Richie’s lids drifted closed again. He didn’t think he’d ever been so damn grateful to have a bag of ice in his lap.

When Jon had finished feeding, out of habit, he almost laved the wound tenderly with his tongue. But, he remembered himself, and knew that Richie would not thank him for what would’ve been a completely inappropriate gesture. Jon almost laughed at the absurdity of the whole thing, but instead just said, "Thanks Rich."

Richie removed the ice from his lap. "No, thank you. Besides, what’s a little blood between brothers?" Jon nodded and started toward the bedroom. "Jon," Richie waited until his friend turned back to him before continuing, "we take this one to the grave!"

"Of course," Jon answered, his lips twisting into a wry grin. "Have the guard outside get you a bandage for your wrist," he ordered, then disappeared through the door.

In the bedroom, Jon carefully crawled into bed with Mac, who was laying on her side. He pulled her back against him, and like he’d done in El Paso, he pierced his wrist with his fangs and held it tenderly to her lips. "Drink, tesoro mia," he commanded gently. With his other hand, he stroked her throat slowly to help her swallow. After several minutes, she began to drink on her own. Regretfully, Jon pulled his wrist away from her lips. "I’ll have to feed again before I can give you anymore, moglie mia," he whispered in her ear.

Mac’s eyes opened slowly. "Jon?" she murmured weakly.

"Yeah, baby," he answered, hugging her tightly. "Just rest now, moglie mia. I’ll feed you again soon."

When she relaxed back against him and her deep breathing told him she was asleep, he carefully crawled out of the bed. He needed to go feed again. It was going to be a long night, and he had no intention of leaving her until the sun rose.

Kristoff waited in the living area of the suite with a maid for him to feed from. "How is she?"

"Better, but she needs more blood," Jon answered his friend.

The other vamp nodded. "The Council has agreed that you should stay with her tonight," he paused here to smile at his friend. "Make good use of the night, Giovanni."

"I intend to," Jon replied.


When Jon went back into Mac’s bedroom freshly fed and ready to feed her again, he found her wide awake and sitting up in the bed.

"Feeling better, I see," he replied.

"Yeah," she nodded and rubbed her stomach, "but I can tell I’m still hungry."

Jon stood looking at her for long moments. He’d been so damn worried about her. "Why the fuck would you do this?" he asked, as his anger finally bubbled to the surface. "I was so worried about you, Mac."

"Don’t yell at me," she ordered.

"I’m not yelling," he yelled.

"Yes, you are."

"Answer my question," he told her, his voice soft, but anything but calm.

"I wanted to see you, ya ass," she answered. "Why didn’t you tell me that they’d kill you if you’re found guilty?"

He had the grace to look embarrassed. "I didn’t want you to worry," he answered, sheepishly as he walked over and sat on the side of the bed. Jon reached out with one hand to gently caress her cheek. "I love you, moglie mia. Forgive me for not being able to put fear in your eyes?"

She smiled at him. "I guess."

"Good," he nodded once. "Now, time to get on with your spanking," he told her pulling her into his lap.

Mac was laughing and trying to fight him off, but he was way stronger, even if she hadn’t been still a little weak from hunger. "A spanking? For what?"

He hugged her tight. "For scaring the shit outta me," he answered.

There wasn’t any spanking, but Jon’s mouth descended on hers. Kissing her deeply, while her arms slipped around his neck, her fingers playing in the hair at his nape. "God, how I’ve missed you," he whispered heatedly against the skin of her neck.

"I’ve missed you too, Jon," she said softly into his hair. She caught the clean scent of his shampoo. "Do you ‘spose, that instead of a spanking I could have a hot bath?"

"Your wish is my command, moglie mia," he told her as he stood with her still nestled in his arms.

Jon carried her to the bathroom and sat her down on the toilet. He started the tub filling with steaming hot water, then asked if there was anything else she wanted while the tub filled. Mac told him that she’d really like to brush her teeth and to be alone for a few minutes. Smiling at her shyness, Jon left her alone in the bathroom.

Still a little weak, it took Mac a little longer than normal to brush her teeth and use the bathroom, but when she’d finished she called out to Jon. He quickly reappeared and turned off the water, then began to undress her slowly.

Once he had all her clothes in a neat little pile in the floor, Jon helped Mac step into the tub. She leaned back against the cool porcelain and watched as Jon gathered all of her bath necessities from the counter around the sink.

"I think I can take it from here," she told him softly.

"Naaa, I don’t think you can," he replied, grinning. He got down on his knees next to the tub.

Mac just shrugged and slid down in the tub, soaking her long hair. When she rose back out of the water, Jon had already poured some of her shampoo into his palm and gently lathered her hair. She groaned as his fingers tenderly massaged her scalp as he worked the suds through her hair.

"That feels so good," she said on a sigh.

"Good, it’s supposed to," he answered.

Jon helped her rinse her hair and the applied the conditioner, finger combing it through the long silken strands like he’d seen her do when she took a shower. Mac had never had a man bathe her before. She was lost in the sensation of his long, tapered artist’s fingers brushing against her scalp and then combing all the way to the ends of her hair.

She was disappointed when Jon quit with his ministrations and helped her rinse her hair. But, soon she was moaning in pleasure again, when he began to gently scrub at her sensitive skin with a wash cloth he had poured some of her bath gel onto.

Jon tenderly stroked and massaged her until the water started to cool. Then, he pulled the plug and helped her out of the tub, wrapping her in a fluffy bath sheet. Reverently, he dried her satiny skin with the towel.

When he lifted her in his arms to carry her back to bed, Mac told him softly, "I could’ve walked, ya know?"

"Maybe," he answered, smiling. He bent to lay her on the bed.

"Are you going to feed me again before you go?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer. She dreaded going back to the cold impersonal feeding from a wine glass.

"I’m not leaving ‘til the morning," he told her, "and yes, I’m going to feed you again, but this time it’ll be the way you’re used to doing it."

Mac smiled up into his blue eyes that flashed with desire. "I was hoping you were going to say that."

Jon leaned over Mac, caging her with his arms. "I need you, Mac," he growled just before his lips met hers in a fiery kiss.

She let herself get swept away in the storm of his passion. Their tongues dueled for supremacy. Mac wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down toward her. Jon’s biceps flexed as he tried to keep his weight off her. She desperately wanted the connection of their minds. With that need, she realized she was in his mind.

Jon? she questioned, the voice in his head barely a whisper.

Yes, moglie mia, I’m here, he answered.

How?

Don’t question it, bambina, just enjoy it.

Jon realized that the Council must have lifted the magical shield, at least for the night. But, that thought was fleeting and quickly disappeared as he got lost in Mac. His lips left hers, and he kissed and nibbled a path down her throat, down her chest until his mouth found her already hardened nipple.

He drew the pebble into his mouth as he settled between her thighs. Mac groaned at the friction of the denim of his jeans against her bare flesh.

I believe your over-dressed for the occasion, she told him.

Maybe, he answered, but if I remedy that, this won’t last long. He moved his attention to her other breast, and Mac’s back arched up off the bed.

You say that like it’s a bad thing, she quipped, even as she tugged his t-shirt up to shoulders.

Jon pulled his shirt off over his head then quickly went back to her breast. He groaned aloud as her body moved against his. Did I mention that I love you? he asked.

I believe so, she answered. Please, Jon, she begged, I need you. Her hands were busy working at the button and zipper of his jeans. She moaned as his fangs scraped across the tender skin of her nipple. Please.

With one hand, Jon helped her push his jeans down over his hips. He entered her without finesse, letting passion rule his actions and set the rhythm. Her pleasure was washing over him in waves. He gritted his teeth against the sensation, trying to hold back his own orgasm until she’d reached that peak.

When Mac tensed beneath him and her hands tightened on his shoulders, Jon allowed her to pull him down so that she could reach his neck. Her fangs sank into his jugular and sent him over the edge. He continued to thrust inside her as he rode the waves of his own orgasm and hers.

Later, as they lay snuggled together, Mac whispered, "Jon, we need to talk."

"Not about my case, moglie mia," he warned her.

"No, it’s not about the case," she replied. "I need to tell you what I’ve found out since I’ve been here." She explained about her dreams, and that Maria had told her they were actually memories of her past life. Then, said softly, "Maria told me that she recognized the woman in my dreams."

"Who is she?"

"Cecilia," she admitted softly.

Jon sighed and tightened his arms around her waist. He nuzzled her hair with his nose. "I guess I should’ve known."

That wasn’t exactly the response she’d expected from him. "You’re not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" he asked, truly puzzled.

"I don’t know," she answered, sarcastically, "maybe because I tried to kill you?"

"You didn’t," he corrected her, "Cecilia did."

"But...," she began.

He interrupted her, "No buts, you’re not her anymore. Now, you’re just my Mac."

She smiled at the heartfelt feeling she heard in his voice. "What’ll happen to us after the trial?"

"I guess that depends on the verdict," he answered softly. He didn’t really want to talk about it right now, and he told her so.

"But, Jon, I need to know," she told him, her voice earnest. "If I lost you...," she left the sentence dangling.

"One way or the other we’ll be together," he assured her. "Our souls belong together. If not this life, then in the next. And, just maybe, the next one will be a nice normal one."

Mac didn’t like his defeatist attitude and decided right then that no matter what the verdict, she at least would fight for him.