Black than Blue Read online

  “What’s wrong, B? She’s not your type.” Cleo glared at me again, challenging me.

  I felt Camila shift beside me, and I knew she and Cleo were sharing some mental back and forth. Demons could communicate through telepathy, and due to our blood bond, Camila would want to stick up for me. But I could take care of myself. Jill was beautiful, but much shorter than me. I liked my women tall. She had a vibrant personality, but I tended to go for someone with a little more backbone, someone with more of an attitude.

  “We both know she isn’t,” I answered as calm as ever. Cleo’s gaze shifted back from Camila to me, but it was Ginger who broke up our staring match.

  “Okay. So Jill. Check. What else? What’s on the Calendar, B?”

  “Zetas’ Valentine’s Day auction this Thursday. Gwen is putting herself up. And Saturday…” I paused before I delivered the horrible news. “Men’s basketball has a night game.”

  “Not it,” Tokyo yelled as the others grumbled. Our sister-queens loved all of us, but they didn’t like changing form to go out in public, especially Cleo, who grumbled the loudest. She couldn’t risk someone recognizing her at a university game.

  “The whole chapter is going,” I went on. “I think Maddie would appreciate it if a few of you would come.”

  “It’s my mom’s birthday this weekend. We have dinner at my parents’,” Ginger replied. She was telling the truth. She and Camila had been shopping for Linda’s presents for weeks.

  “Faeth and I will go,” Cleo said. Faeth groaned and rolled on the floor. “What the fuck? Maddie’s your feeder. You ain’t weaseling your way out of this.”

  Faeth grimaced. “We’ll go.”

  “Thank you,” I replied.

  The meeting dragged from there. More boring business, a recap of the monthly calendar. A reminder from Ginger of the coming spring break. In a few weeks, we girls were off to the Caribbean for vacation. The sister-queens would draw straws to see who would chaperone.

  “Okay. I’m hungry and I know Camila is too. Anything else?” Ginger asked.

  Cleo coughed and looked pointedly at Natasha.

  “You are a rat.” She scowled, her Russian accent thick over every word. She turned back to Ginger. “My Rodrick has rescued a puppy for the boys.”

  “Oh, come on!” Ginger yelled.

  “I know, my queen, but—”

  “That is so unfair,” Amy whined. I kept my mouth shut. I was only an hour away from my dogs and could see them anytime I felt like taking the drive.

  “See.” Ginger motioned frantically between Amy and Natasha. “And he thought chocolate would cover his ass? We’re not getting you girls a dog.”

  “Why?” Amy whined some more.

  “’Cause Florencia is not having that shit,” Cleo answered. Our housemother was understanding and kind, if not slightly standoffish, but she didn’t like dogs, period. “Even if you guys housebroke the shit out of it, Florencia wouldn’t trust you to take care of it.”

  “No dogs. I’ll think about other pets. Maybe a hamster or something,” Ginger said.

  “Yeah. We’d love a hamster,” Amy said.

  “Good. We’ll keep him in your room.” With her foot down, Ginger ended the meeting. I closed my calendar and tried to ignore Cleo’s eyes following my movements with cold focus. Camila led me out of the room, but as we went, I was still able to catch a bit of Tokyo’s voice as she crawled into Cleo’s lap.

  “You’re still hard, you know,” she said.

  “I told you not to ask me again.”

  Chapter Two

  Benny

  My thoughts bounced between German verbs and the backless shirt Tokyo had worn to the meeting. My test tomorrow would be easy, but I wanted to review the material at least one more time before class. The flawless pale skin of a particular sister-queen continued to invade my mind. At that very moment, Cleo’s hands were most likely all over that particular back. Or somewhere lower, around to the front. I grumbled softly to myself. Cleo was never so easy. Tokyo was a joke, and in truth, a whore. Not Cleo’s type at all. She needed a challenge, not someone who begged shamelessly and openly to be fucked as if that was all that mattered. She needed someone with a full brain and not just a strong libido.

  A yawn escaped, and as I released my irrational grip on the arm of Camila’s leather couch, I looked over my shoulder to see her smiling down at me from behind my seat.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Benny, you’re too tense.” Camila gently stroked my neck. I felt my pulse jump against her warm fingers. We had the apartment to ourselves. Ginger was feeding from Anna-Jade upstairs. I was comfortable, settled on their worn leather sectional. The usual slow-tempo house music Camila loved pumped through the room, serving as the perfect ambient noise. Still, I was having a hard time getting my mind and my body to settle.

  “Breathe, mi’jita.”

  I let out a deep sigh and closed my eyes, breathing in and out.

  “You ready?” Camila asked with a gentle smile.

  “Yes.” I slid down a little farther into the rich leather and pulled my sweater off my left shoulder, making Camila growl softly. For all of her loving instinct, I imagined the demon inside Camila had very little control when it was brought face-to-face with its life source. I didn’t want Camila to wait any longer than she already had while I was busy reviewing my mental notes and plotting vampericide. I offered my neck.

  It was easy to believe in their magic whenever Camila’s fangs bit through my skin, right into my vein. There was never any pain. Only pleasure. The cool piercing of my neck shot right between my legs, and I came harder than I had in some time. My tongue braced against the roof of my mouth to hold in my whimpers, but a moan still rumbled in my throat. I focused on Camila’s presence to keep my hips from moving.

  This time, as with every feeding before, Cleo’s face was back behind my eyes, her voice in my ears. This time, Cleo muttered softly, sweetly, making perfect demands. Her phantom hands stroked me through my clothes. Her invisible lips sealed over my breast, tracing my nipple.

  I didn’t like it, but I didn’t fight this part of the feeding. My pleasure centers were linked to Cleo. Fighting my desires and my memories only made things worse. Camila drank slowly as always. Her warm tongue massaged the pulsing vein, coaxed more blood to the surface with every heartbeat. I continued to come. Over and over. Every time, I came for Cleo.

  I glanced at the clock just as Camila began to seal the punctures in my skin. “Thank you,” she purred softly. Slowly, I slid to the edge of the couch. My legs felt like Jell-O and my crotch was still clenching in time with my thumping heart. When I stood, Camila handed me a bottle of water from the bar.

  Then she said, “What can I do?”

  There was nothing Camila could do. As much power as she had, I wasn’t weak-minded enough for her to toy with my memory, and I wasn’t foolish enough to think that sort of thing would work in the long term. I was feeling sad and lonely, and that’s when Cleo always decided to show up in my mind.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay,” Camila said. Pushing was pointless. She started toward her bedroom. “I’ll let Red know we’re done.” There was still a rumbling purr to Camila’s voice, and even though I hadn’t been paying attention, being distracted didn’t dull the fact that Camila’s thick cinnamon scent now filled the room. Thanks to our blood bond, Camila had felt every ounce of my pleasure during, and usually after, our feedings. Ginger was typically waiting in their bedroom, naked and willing to fully sate Camila’s other physical needs.

  “Do you mind if I use your restroom?”

  “Not at all. Take your time. I think Ginger wanted to speak to you anyway.”

  I quickly moved to put myself between Camila and the bedroom door, as if Camila couldn’t vanish right through me. More proof that I hadn’t been thinking clearly. “About what?”

  I stepped back when Camila smiled that smile that told me there was no discussion to be had, then I wat
ched my sister-queen drift into her bedroom. I had a few moments before Ginger would come walking through the door or magically appear by the couch. I took advantage of those moments and went to the bathroom to freshen up a bit.

  I turned on the water and pushed up my sleeves. My wrists were looking thinner again, but that wouldn’t last long. Some cool water splashed on my face helped with the light flush that spread across my skin during her feeding. I’d have to wait a little while to change my damp underwear, but I’d survive. I adjusted my camisole again, and my ruby necklace. Camila was expert at drawing blood. There wasn’t even the slightest red speck on my white sweater.

  When I came back to the living room, Ginger was there.

  I liked that my best friend hadn’t changed. She was a very powerful demon now, in charge of many of her kind, richer than any other twenty-two-year-old on the planet—until I turned twenty-two, that is—but nothing other than her sleeping habits and her diet had changed. Her bright red hair was almost always in a ponytail. She still wore the same V-neck T-shirts every day, the same jeans. She’d added a little more black to her wardrobe, but that was Camila’s doing. Almost everything she owned was black. She still wore the ruby necklace she’d gotten from Camila before they’d even started dating, when Ginger was just a bookworm freshman. After all this time, Ginger just wanted to be a good daughter, a good wife, and a good friend to me.

  “Cookie?” She pushed herself off the back of the couch and held out a plastic container filled with large chocolate chip cookies. A small voice in the back of my head, a voice that sounded exactly like Lamont Wilkes, suggested I keep my hog finger out of that box. Where was the ghost of my real father when I’d eaten that chocolate, and all that pasta at dinner?

  Ginger rattled the box and took a bite of one herself.

  I crossed the room, lowering my voice even though Camila could still hear us in the bedroom. “Whatever you want to talk about can wait. I know you and Camila would like some time to yourselves. We can do this tomorrow.”

  “Are you done being ridiculous? Great. Have a cookie.”

  I grabbed the huge piece of chocolate chips and sugar out of the Tupperware and took a bite. It was still warm.

  “Mmm, these are good. Florencia made them?”

  “No.” Ginger snickered. “Jill.”

  You could have heard my eyes roll.

  “She’s so sweet, B. Just give her a chance.”

  “Fuck you, Ginger,” I said with a slight shake of my head, but I didn’t stop eating the cookie. I finished it and reached for another.

  “Come sit with me. Let’s chat.” Ginger handed me the cookies, then tugged me back around to the other side of the couch. Just then, Camila came from the bedroom. She had changed to go out, wearing her full biker gear: a motorcycle jacket, tight jeans, and her riding boots. She didn’t own a motorcycle, but the clothes and her badass spiky haircut would make her fit in just fine with any biker crowd.

  She stroked my cheek with gentle affection before she rounded the couch. Then she leaned over her na’suul, her hands resting on either side of Ginger’s shoulders, their lips close together. The demon marriage bond allowed them to read each other’s minds over any distance. It allowed them to share emotions that no human would ever know. At heart, they were still two young lovers, trapped in eighteen-year-old bodies, going through what seemed like a never-ending honeymoon phase. I wanted what they had. Instead, I had Jill’s cookies.

  “I’m going out,” Camila said.

  Ginger tilted her head up and kissed Camila softly on the lips. “You driving or flying, my Mila?”

  “Flying. I have a few places to go.” Then Camila looked over to me and said, “Benny. I’m here, okay? I mean it.” I nodded in appreciation, but we both knew I would never take her up on the offer to talk.

  “You…” She pointed at Ginger. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back soon.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Come here.”

  I looked away, but Ginger was sitting so close it was hard to ignore the passionate way their lips moved together. The kiss was tame for the two of them. Considering they had both just fed, it was extremely tame. I could only imagine the thoughts and fantasies they were sharing in that single kiss. Plans for later.

  Plans for forever.

  “I love you,” Camila whispered as she pulled away.

  “I love you too.”

  Camila vanished from the room with a playful wiggle of her nose.

  Ginger purred gruffly and stretched. “Sorry. She has that effect on me.”

  “I understand.”

  “Okay. So where were we? Oh, right. I was going to force you to do that thing you hate,” Ginger said with an unnerving smile.

  “What thing?”

  “I’m gonna make you talk.”

  I sighed and rolled my eyes. Like Mama, it was hard to shut Ginger down completely. She was such a good friend and so honest. When she came to me about something important, I knew I could trust her. “What do you want to know?”

  Ginger grabbed another cookie and curled up on the couch to face me. “You okay?”

  “Yes. I’m fine.”

  “Listen, we all saw Cleo during the meeting. I just—”

  “Cleo isn’t bothering me.”

  “Benny.”

  “She’s not. She acts like that all the time. And it’s been three years. I’ve had plenty of time see her with Tokyo. It doesn’t bother me.”

  “What about what she said about Jill? I know Cleo too. I know when she’s trying to start something.”

  “Well, she didn’t.”

  “Anything else bothering you? You look worn out. Do you want Camila to feed you when she gets back?”

  I finally sighed. Camila’s blood would definitely ease the fatigue, but that was about the only cure it could offer me right now. “No, it’s just been a long day. I have a German test tomorrow and a UGA meeting tomorrow night. I just want to go home.”

  “You should. Go spend time with your mom. Go see the master on his own turf.” I returned the silly smile Ginger flashed when she mentioned Daddy.

  “I know,” I replied. “I will soon.”

  “Well, good. Now go to sleep. And send Amy to the UGA meeting. You know they’re just going to finalize things for spring formal. She loves that crap.”

  Ginger was right. Amy got sexually aroused over the idea of planning any sort of social event, but I only had a few more weeks left as chapter president. I didn’t believe in handing off my duties on the final lap. ABO had enough trouble with its wild ideas about mixing races. Being a lesbian-friendly sorority tested the tolerance of enough of our fellow Greeks. I didn’t need to give bitches like Kimber Knowles, the chapter president from Tri Pi, more ammo when it came to nominating officers for the University Greek Association come fall.

  “I’ll be fine, and I need to go to that meeting.”

  “Okay, well, for now go to bed.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now.”

  “Okay, your highness.”

  Ginger stood and walked me to the door. “Sunday. Me and you vegging on the couch?”

  “As long as Jill doesn’t show up.”

  Ginger chuckled. “I am making no promises.” She shoved the last of Jill’s cookies into my hand and nudged me out the door.

  *

  The house was relatively quiet. Florencia was busy doing a final sweep of the kitchen. She had a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the back for me as I passed out of the pantry. A few of the freshmen were still up studying together. Anna-Jade’s TV was on. There was music coming from Hollis’s room. Maddie and Ruth were fucking with their door cracked open. I just wanted to shower and lie down. I needed a new day. I needed to get out of my jeans. I wanted anyone but Jill to be waiting outside my door.

  The girl was cute. Really, she was. Her two dads had farmed the Canadian gene pool for the perfect egg donor and then came Jill. She was half African-American, half French-Canadian, pouty lipped with braces,
and adorable. She barely cleared five feet, but unlike our other pint-sized resident, A.J., her spunk made up for her size. She was smart, kind, and giving, and she had a quick sense of humor. And horrible timing and no sense of personal space. She also cried on a dime. I had to be nice to her.

  “Hey, Jill. What’s up?”

  “I thought if I brought you some cookies you’d quiz me.” She was much too cheery for after midnight, but Jill was always like that. There was a white box wrapped in a purple bow balancing on top of her German book. It was sweet that she knew my favorite color, but…

  “Ginger already got me.” I held up the plastic container. There was only one cookie left.

  A scowl started to spread across Jill’s forehead, but it vanished a moment later. “Oh. Well, I made these for you anyway.”

  “You didn’t have to, but thank you.” I took the fresh box and opened my bedroom door and headed straight for my dresser. Jill was right behind me. My sleep music was already on, a mix of jazz and techno that Camila had made for me. And as I glanced over my shoulder, I saw there was a horizontal lump under my comforter. Sam. Her brown hair, streaked with blond highlights, was spread out over my pillows.

  “Listen. I’m exhausted,” I told Jill as I rummaged for fresh underwear and a washcloth. “Maybe tomorrow—”

  “I just want to make sure I have my—”

  “Jill!” Sam rolled over and sat up. “What the fuck? She said no.”

  “Sam,” I chided her.

  “What? She’s not deaf; she’s just choosing to be. You said you were tired, so lie down and let’s go to sleep.”

  Jill’s bottom lip started to quiver. Tears lined her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t listen to her.” I sighed, annoyed with them both. “Come get me at six. We’ll study, then go get breakfast.”

  A bright smile broke out across her face. “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, Jill,” Sam said. “She said yes. Get out.”

  “You should get some sleep.” I patted her on the shoulder and gently guided her toward the door.

  “I will. Thanks, Benny. I’ll see you tomorrow.”