One corner of his mouth lifted. “I don’t have those kinds of rules. Nothing’s off limits.”
She raised her brows. “And somewhere in there is a key to a Porsche, a beach house, and a credit card.”
His shoulders and jaw relaxed as he shifted back, his arms resting on the edge of the table. “I have all those, but that’s not the kind of proposition I had in mind.”
She blinked, hope returning. “No?”
“No.” He waved a hand. “I just wanted to know if you would spend the night with me.”
She blushed, not something she did often. Oh, wow. She had certainly jumped the gun, but she was so sure when he used the word “proposition”. In her experience, conversations that started with a proposition always ended with compensation.
“Well, of course. It’s not like we haven’t—” but she cut herself off as the waiter showed up with her food. She smiled at him as he asked the usual questions. She answered politely and draped her napkin over her lap before picking up her silverware.
When the waiter was out of earshot, she inclined her head, hesitated, then said, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Christian raised both eyebrows.
“For being so presumptuous.” She cut into her medium rare steak.
Christian waived a dismissive hand. “Not at all. I expect you’ve had quite a few propositions.”
He watched her eat with something like fascination. Her mouth full, she nodded. He waited while she chewed and swallowed, and then washed the steak down with a sip of wine.
“That’s it, then? Just a sleepover?”
“Well, for starters, but I also have some work you might be interested in.”
“Ah ha! See? Watch out, little girl. He’s up to something.”
Heather stared at him. “I’m not a prostitute, whatever Raul might have told you.”
Amusement flickered in his eyes, although his face remained impassive. She set her fork and knife down without making a sound and reached for her purse. “I think I’d better get a cab.”
“Wait.” Christian stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. He was part-way out of his seat, authentic regret in his eyes.
“Don’t trust him. Any man that will put a hand on you can’t be trusted.”
Heather scrutinized his face for any signs of violence, but there weren’t any. That didn’t mean much, she knew, but it was a half-way good sign.
“Please, sit. Finish your meal. I didn’t mean anything like that.”
Flutters filled her belly and she knew she wouldn’t be able to eat another bite. “I don’t want you to think there’s anything other than personal interest here. I like you, Christian. Period. I enjoy your company. I like when you come to watch me dance. That’s it. I’m not—”
“Shhh, Heather, it’s okay. Relax.” His eyes seized hers, and she sank back into her seat, the hard lines around her mouth melting.
The flutters disappeared and she nodded dreamily as she released her purse back to the floor and picked up her silverware, eyes fixed on Christian. His head bobbed in unison with hers as he resettled himself in his chair. A slight pressure behind her eyes made her blink.
“What kind of work?” she asked, as if the thought of leaving had never occurred to her.
“Witchcraft kind of work.”
She stared at him with the fork halfway to her mouth. “What kind of witchcraft?” Sliding the meat from her fork with her teeth, she chewed it, her wary eyes on him the whole time.
“Nothing you wouldn’t be willing to do.” Christian poured more wine with an air of nonchalance. “And I can tell you are very powerful.”
“Is that a vampire trick?” She ran a finger over the rim of the wine glass before picking it up and sipping. “Sensing a witch’s power?”
“No, it’s something I could do before I was turned.” Christian’s eyes shifted to his glass as he drank his wine. “I don’ know why and it doesn’t matter. You are in possession of some rare talent.”
“No, I’m not. I can do some basic things, but I’m not that talented.” She dropped her fork, looking down and around her with a wrinkled brow. Where the heck did the napkin go? She ducked down and popped back up with the white linen.
“Heather, yes you are.” He leaned his face close to hers over the small table for two, setting the wine glass aside. “You just haven’t explored your potential. And, I think I can help you develop your abilities beyond anything you might imagine.”
“You can?” She emphasized you as she fussed with the napkin in her lap.
He raised his eyebrows. “If you will allow me, yes.”
“And what do you get out of this?” She frowned as she stabbed at a tomato, no longer looking at him.
“Well, I get to know you much better.” His voice penetrated her skin, caressing deep places inside her.
Squirming with the disquieting notion, Heather rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. That can’t be it.”
He eased back, his eyes narrowing. “Why can’t that be it?”
Fingering her glass, her eyes dashed around the room. Was he serious? What did he really want? Come on Mom, talk. But for once, she wasn’t there with some know-it-all quip.
“Because, that’s rarely all any man wants.” Her gaze fell to her plate. That’s what her mom would have said, she was sure.
“Ah, but I’m not a man.” At her alarmed look, he added, “I’m a vampire.”
She waved a hand over the table. “That just means you walk on the dangerous side of the street.” She grabbed her wine and gulped it down. When she set it on the table, Christian promptly topped off her glass. “You don’t need to loosen me up, Christian.” She tittered, assuring herself that it was just the wine.
* * *
Back at his place—a penthouse, of course—Heather stalked around his living room, arms crossed under full breasts. Christian pressed a button and a fire blazed to life in the glass and metal fireplace. He flipped a switch and the vertical blinds covering an entire wall slid silently out of the way, revealing the sparkling D.C. skyline.
The Monument and the Tidal Basin glowed as a helicopter made its rounds. The cherry trees were about to burst and the blossom festival would besiege the city in a few days. She pivoted on her silver stilettos as his cool hands slid down her bare arms. He threaded his fingers through hers.
“I want you to be mine,” he said, leaning his forehead against hers. Her breath rushed out of her lungs as she closed her eyes. She knew what that meant, had been asked once before by another vampire, but not one she was willing to sell her soul to.
“Why?” Her voice twitched with her nervousness and excitement.
“Because I find you breathtaking. Because you intrigue me. Because I crave you when I can’t have you.” She held her ground as he pressed the length of his body against hers.
“You can have me any time you want,” she whispered.
“I mean when I can’t be here, in the city.” He let go of her hands and cupped her satin-covered backside. “And I want you to be just mine.”
When he squeezed her against his erection, she lifted her face and his mouth claimed hers. A wet heat bloomed between them. She moaned as he walked her towards the couch, and they fell on it with hands running, mouths open, and tongues exploring.
“I want you in every way.”
“Yes,” she exhaled.
She kicked off her heels and they clattered to the hardwood floor. Christian ripped her top away exposing bare, swollen breasts to the firelight. He yanked at her pants.
“Easy. I need something to wear home,” she whispered.
“I’ll buy you new ones.” His voice was gruff with need and she laughed softly as he tore the slacks to pieces until she lay naked under him.
In frantic, hungry movements they both undressed him. He sucked a nipple into his mouth and she moaned as she arched her body against his. Grabbing her hip, he ground himself against her with a groan and switched to the other breast. Her hands slipped dow
n his back as she panted and his tongue trailed along the line of muscle under the skin of her stomach. He pushed her knees up and she yelped as he found her, worked her, and her breath hitched as his fingers joined.
“Stop. Wait.” She tried to wiggle away, but he dragged her hips back to him.
She tugged his hair with both hands as he brought her. She cried out his name, shaking, trembling, laughing. Sliding up her body, he kissed her stomach, her breasts, her collarbone, her neck, her jaw, her mouth. She wrapped her legs around him as he shoved deep and they both moaned.
He felt so ridiculously right, fit perfectly, like he was meant to be hers. Such thoughts were perilous, she knew, because no one was ever meant for only one person, but he held her in sway, like no man ever could or had.
“Heather.” He breathed her name into her neck and unable to speak, she nodded, knowing what he wanted. She didn’t normally allow it on her neck, because she didn’t like the marks to show. But now she wanted it very much to show—to the whole world.
He didn’t bite right away. Instead, he maintained a maddening pace, bringing her closer with each thrust, each curl of his hips. Her orgasm built warm, thick, the pressure building and building until it spilled over. And he bit at just the right moment, like he knew what her body was about to do.
“Christian.” She sighed his name as he drank her down and her climax brought his.
“Heather, yes.” He growled into her neck as they shuddered together.
When they lay spasming in little quakes, her ankles hooked behind his back, his body still inside hers, she listened to him catch his breath. Her heart pounded as he licked her neck and apprehension sparked in her belly at her sudden realization. She liked him way too much.
“It never ends well that way, puddin’.”
“That was perfect,” he whispered in her ear.
“Yes it was,” she purred, but her blood pounded in her ears.
He lifted his head and pushed up on his arms. “What’s wrong?” She thought she would cry at the way he looked at her, like he might actually care.
“Nothing. Why?” Willing her crazy heart to calm down, she brushed the sweaty bangs out of his eyes.
“You’re lying.” He kissed her nose. She loosened her grip, letting her feet slide down his ass.
“How can you tell?” She tried to push up, but the weight of his body held her in place.
“Your pulse, the way your skin tightens, the curve of your mouth. I smell anxiety, adrenalin, cortisol.” He sat up, taking her with him and cradling her in his arms. “Fear. Tell me.”
She shoved at his hands and arms, but he wouldn’t let go. “Damn it, Christian. Don’t push, okay? Please.” She went rigid under the soothing strokes of his hands.
He kissed her hair. “I like you, Heather. I’m not going to fuck and run. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Yeah, right.”
She closed her eyes against her mother’s voice. “But you’ll lose interest, eventually. They all do.”
Squeezing her too tight, he said, “I’m not going to.”
“How do you know? What is it you like about me, anyway? My red hair? The way I dance?” She shoved at his chest and he released her, this time. “It’s the sword dance, isn’t it? It gets you off? You like to see me work it, don’t you?”
Her baser nature glinted in her eyes as she slinked off the couch to spin around the room, her red hair fanning out. The air shimmered between her upraised hands until she clutched a talwar sword. Lowering it in front of her rolling torso, she trained wicked eyes on his.
A provocative mix of emotions passed over his face: hunger, greed, anger, embarrassment. She held the talwar under her kohl-outlined eyes, swaying her hips to the right, arching the sword in the same direction, then swirled it with both hands in a quick circle in front.
Swinging it artfully around in one hand, she turned her back to him. She lowered into a deep backbend, her red hair cascading to the floor as she fixed her gaze on his upside down eyes. The sword balanced on her chest.
He stalked over to her and grabbed the sword, throwing it across the room. It banged into the wall and clanged to the floor. Before she could straighten, he scooped her up in his arms. Carrying her into his bedroom as she yelled and kicked, he plunked her down on the bed.
“You don’t think very highly of yourself, do you?” He glowered down at her.
“Whatever do you mean?” She rolled onto her side with cat-like grace, sliding one knee in front of the other, one hand braced on the bed. She rested her head on the other hand, propped up on an elbow. “I think very well of myself.”
“No you don’t, or you wouldn’t act like that when someone gets intimate with you.” Tugging at the down comforter, he yanked her to him as he settled into the bed.
“I don’t act any particular way when I have sex.” She bristled as he tucked her into the nook of his arm.
“I didn’t say sex. I said when someone gets intimate.”
“What’s the difference?” She crossed her arms over her chest as best she could in her current position, refusing to snuggle. He was quiet. That made her look up at him.
“You don’t like to get too close to people.” His face was locked down, but his eyes smoldered in a childish way, like she had denied him something he desperately wanted.
Her mouth hung open as he stared down at her, those blue eyes unnerving. She didn’t want him to be disappointed with her. Her chest hurt at the thought. After a long pause, she sighed. “No. No, I don’t.”
“Why?” His eyes yielded in a way that gave her the courage to say what she was really thinking.
The words rushed out before she could change her mind. “Because it never ends well. I always end up being the one hurt and alone and I don’t want to go there ever again.”
He squeezed her and she felt the urge to run away. “Then I’ll prove to you that I’m not going anywhere and that you can trust me.”
Her laugh was scornful. “I make it a point not to trust anyone who actually says they can be trusted."
Christian jerked upright and in vampire quick movements he gathered her into his lap, her back against his chest and bit his wrist. “Drink,” he ordered.
She balked, shifting her face away from the bleeding wound. “No.”
“Heather.” His voice was scary soft. She twisted back to the proffered wrist, wondering what the hell had changed his mood? What had she done?
“Why?” She caught the little sob in her throat before it could escape.
“Because I want you to be mine. Just mine. I don’t want anyone else to have you, ever, and I want you to trust me.” There was no malice in his tone, only need and hunger and desire.
She blinked back tears. “Why?”
He growled in frustration, crushing her against him. “Does it matter? Do you have any better offers?”
She blinked faster. “My life is okay.”
He flipped her onto her back and hovered over her. “You are insufferable. I offer you everything, Heather, a life of ease and comfort and someone to watch over you.” His eyes flashed, daring her to defy him. “Me. I offer you myself. You will never be alone. You will never be vulnerable. Ever. Again.”
Her cheeks flushed as she narrowed her eyes. “What do you want in return?”
“Just you.” His eyes flitted away for a second and her chest clenched painfully. “There will be work for you to do, on occasion.”
“Why don’t you just force me?”
They stared at each other with open eyes and half-way open hearts.
“Because I want you to want it.”
She held very still, because that she understood. No one wanted to be with someone who didn’t want to be with them, even if the vampire bond changed that. He wanted to know she chose of her own free will. He wasn’t even trying to hypnotize her, or whatever vampires did.
Oh, she knew he must have done it a dozen times before. She suspected he had done it to calm her or to ease her fe
ars, but he was asking now, not forcing. He could have done a lot of things, but he didn’t. Was this what she wanted? Her chest slowly relaxed, her stomach unclenching and she knew the answer.
She nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay?” His eyes widened, and then relaxed, filling with a warm light.
“Okay.” She ran her fingers along his jaw and he kissed her hard, slipped her to her side and spooned her.
She rolled her eyes, even as she snuggled into him. The secure feeling of being held and wanted washed over her in uncomfortable waves. His arm snaked under her and around her neck, and then she heard the crunch of him biting his wrist.
Her head sank back as she took it in her mouth and drank, the cool blood running over her tongue, the taste sweetly metallic. As she swallowed, her body tightened around a growing want and the last coil of anxiety unwound in her stomach, little by little, until she forgot what it had felt like.
“You’re mine.” Christian whispered, his need for her hardening against her backside.
* * *
Christian shivered and then slid out from under the covers, leaving Heather fast asleep in the dark. In the living room the cityscape twinkled. He stared out the window for a long moment, a pale statue with wide eyes. What had he done?
Something tugged in his chest as if a part of him was now lodged inside her and tendons stretched between them. What happened to her, how she felt, and whether she lived or died now mattered.
It mattered more than anything else in his life ever had, even his once endless need for revenge. He rubbed an eye and picked up his cell phone, tapping the screen as he lowered himself to the couch.
“Yes?” A voice he both loved and hated answered.
“It’s done.” He withheld all emotion from his answer, as only the undead can do.
“Good boy. What have you told her?” Modore’s response was gleeful.
“Just that I have some work for her.” There was an off-kilter laugh over the cell signal, and Christian shifted in his seat. Modore had always been off, but he was getting worse.
“I think we have time to get her up to speed, Modore. No need to rush things.”
Shattered Page 3
