Dark Crime

by Christine Feehan

  "Are you ready, Blaze? Breathe for me, sweetheart."

  Her green eyes met his. Wild. So wild his breath caught in his throat. He held her still while she kept trying to buck against him, desperate to move.

  "Please," she whispered again.

  Her voice sent him over the edge. Raw. Arousal making the sweet fire hotter than ever. He moved then, drawing back and then plunging deep into her fiery channel. Her inner muscles, so much scorching silk, gripped his cock like the tightest fist imaginable. He felt the last of his control shred and he began to power into her. He was rough. Too rough for her innocence, but there was no regaining control once it was lost. The pleasure enveloped him, was so intense it actually bordered on pain.

  His mind was in hers and he could feel her rising toward her orgasm. Rushing toward it. The sensation of a tidal wave threatening to engulf her. He gripped her hips hard, flexing his fingers and then digging in deep, holding her, for a moment, savoring the tight, silken, wet channel, and then he surged into her over and over with hard, deep strokes, letting the fire streak through his body. Feeling his balls tighten. Feeling the sudden, overwhelming convulsion in her sheath. The ripples surrounding him. Her cries filling his ears--his mind. Pleasure swamped him, took him. Took her. Each hard jerk of his cock spilling into her was a punch of pure pleasure.

  Maksim buried his face in her neck, that soft, sweet neck, listening to the pounding of her pulse, the ebb and flow of her blood. Her body was soft under his, his cock still gliding and hard, but that dark lust that drove him so hard, so brutally since the moment he'd heard her voice, knew she was going to defy him and fight her battles alone, eased enough to allow him to be sated.

  She was unlike most humans in that she had been able to resist compulsion, but they'd exchanged blood. She'd allowed him into her mind. She wouldn't defy him so easily a second time.

  He lifted his head and looked down at her, at the helpless, dazed pleasure on her face. Her lashes fluttered and before she could open her eyes all the way, he took her mouth. Gently. Tenderly. Completely at odds with his roughness earlier.

  Sufletul meu, sweetheart, you need to let yourself grieve. She stiffened and her hands went to his shoulders to push him away. You are safe here with me. He slid the words softly into her mind.

  All along he'd felt her grief. She had refused to face the reality of her father's death. Her only living blood relative other than a mother who had left years earlier and never returned or bothered to find out if her daughter was even alive. Sean McGuire had meant everything to his daughter. He had been brutally murdered.

  You need to allow yourself to fall apart. Just this once, when I am holding you close. Tomorrow night you can be strong again, but right now, holding me, me inside you, give that to me, too.

  He tried not to use a compulsion, but he knew she needed to grieve. To finally let go. The hard knot inside her was never going to go away until she allowed herself to acknowledge he was gone. She would never accept her father's death until she faced it and forced herself to realize he wasn't coming back. She needed to begin that process. She would never look at the future, and the last thing Maksim wanted was for Blaze to be thinking about giving up her life for revenge. She was far too accepting of dying.

  Their lovemaking had been wild. Rough. Intense. It was an intense situation, and he stayed there in her mind, waiting for her to give him that last gift. Her sorrow. Her tears. Her absolute grief. He was her lifemate and, although she didn't yet know what that meant, she still felt their deep connection.

  FIVE

  THE HEADACHE POUNDING through her head made it difficult to emerge from a heavy sleep. Normally, Blaze woke quickly no matter the time. She didn't linger in bed, or have to have three cups of coffee to clear her head, but the headache made it difficult to think. She felt disoriented and a little nauseated. Her body ached everywhere. Everywhere.

  Heart pounding, her eyes flew open and she turned her head to see if someone else was in her bed. Clearly alone, she drew in a long, shuddering breath, the events of the night becoming much clearer in her head. She preferred the fog to reality. Groaning, because even the light hurt her eyes, she flung one hand over her face to protect herself from the bright light of day.

  She had cried for hours last night. For hours. In his arms. Maksim. Virtually a total stranger. She groaned again, her face flaming. She'd done more than cry in his arms; she'd let him have her body. Not once. But again and again. In between her crying jags. She'd lost her mind last night. Totally lost it.

  She couldn't pretend Maksim Volkov away or the things she'd done with him. There was no denying awesome sex, and the sex was both intense and incredibly awesome. She wanted to regret it. The man was a total stranger and she'd all but torn his clothes off of him, but then the entire night had been intense. That was the only excuse, the only explanation she had. She had expected to die. She'd been prepared for it and truthfully, a part of her had been wishing for it, which would have made her father very, very angry with her.

  She groaned a third time and rolled over onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow. She was fairly certain everything had happened just as she'd remembered it, with the exception of the blood part. That couldn't have happened, because blood didn't taste like that. Addicting and hot and totally masculine. Her mouth watered at the remembrance. If blood actually was so good that she couldn't even get the taste out of her mind and she craved more, people would be selling it on the black market and making a fortune.

  As for vampires--she winced a little at the word--she didn't want to go there. She knew about vampires. She'd known since she was ten years old and Emeline had come into her life. Of course, in the beginning, neither girl had believed. Whenever they were together, they had the nightmare. The same nightmare. It was powerful and ugly and scary. They were together a lot. The more they had the nightmare, the more it unfolded and became longer and more detailed.

  She groaned again, trying to shut down her brain, not wanting to think about vampires or monsters she couldn't control. Since she wasn't going to see Maksim ever again, for as long as she lived, she could pretend, like she'd been doing for years, that she didn't believe in any of it. In the meantime, she didn't have the luxury of lying around her apartment feeling sorry for herself. She had work to do.

  Her cell buzzed along the end table, vibrating across the wood surface. She snagged it quickly, trying not to remember how she'd put her foot up on it and what had happened after. Still, her body remembered, even if her brain tried to shut the memory down. She felt an answering twinge deep inside. At once a smoldering burn started.

  "You got Blaze," she answered.

  "Where have you been? I've called you thirty times," Emeline Sanchez, her best friend, burst out without even saying hello. "You turned me into crazy stalker woman. I've been worried sick. Thank God you waited for me. I totally have your back on this, honey. I got a job at the strip club. You know, The In Place. Seriously. They hired me right away."

  Blaze sat up straighter, shoving at the fall of hair cascading everywhere. "Em, are you insane? This isn't a game. These men killed my father. You cannot go undercover at the strip joint." She lowered her voice almost to a whisper. "You know why."

  "I may not be a badass like you, Blaze, but I can get information. I'm good at it. You know I am. I have always had that knack and I'm not letting you do this alone. I'm not. You and your father . . ." Her voice wavered and she trailed off. She cleared her throat. "If it wasn't for the two of you, I wouldn't be here. You know that. I'm not letting you do this alone."

  Blaze closed her eyes briefly. Emeline wasn't a fighter in the sense that Blaze was. Sean had tried to teach her, and she was capable, but it wasn't in her nature, in the way it was in Blaze's. Emeline was quieter. She was gorgeous. Truly drop-dead gorgeous. Of course the strip club would hire her. She also appeared mysterious, elusive and, just walking down the street, she was sexy as all get-out. She rarely argued, although she had strong opinions, she jus
t quietly went her own way. When she made up her mind to do something, no one could stop her. No one. Blaze had learned that early.

  "Emmy, listen to me. It isn't safe for you to be in this city. It isn't safe for you to be in the country. It certainly isn't safe for you to be in that strip club. Especially that strip club. What did you do? Go straight from the airport to the bar and apply for a job?"

  "Well . . . yeah."

  As if that was perfectly reasonable. Blaze wanted to tear out her hair. Her life was out of control. Completely out of control. She should have known the moment she sent word to Emeline that Sean was dead and she was going after the killers, that Emmy would get on a plane, regardless of the danger to herself, and come back to help.

  "Do you know who owns that club?" Blaze inquired softly. She glanced down at her body. She was naked. Completely naked. She never slept naked. There were smudge marks on her breasts. Like fingerprints. And a mark above her left one that looked suspiciously like a bite. She closed her eyes, remembering the way it felt when he sank his teeth into her. Her sex spasmed. Clenched. She felt the rush of liquid heat at the memory.

  "No. And I don't care."

  "Have you ever been in it before?"

  "Of course not. I've never stripped before if that's what you're asking, but I took pole dancing to stay in shape and I've danced all my life. I have no doubt I can pull this off."

  Blaze sucked in her breath. "Wait. Wait. They hired you as a stripper? I thought you meant they hired you as a waitress."

  "Honey, how can I get close to the girls to get information if I'm not one of them?" Emeline sounded as if she was losing a little of her patience.

  Blaze wanted to scream.

  "Blaze." Emeline's voice softened. "I'm not walking into this with my eyes closed. I didn't come back on impulse. I know the risk and, just like you, I accept it. You and Sean are the closest thing I have to a family. I don't have anyone else, and living on the run doesn't exactly give me the incentive--or time--to make friends. They murdered him. They took him from us. I'm not going to let them get away with it any more than you are. I can't go into combat with you, but I can feed you intel."

  Blaze rubbed her hand down her face. She didn't have an argument for that one. It was all true and she knew exactly how Emeline felt about Sean. Emeline had no real family to speak of. Her mother had died when she was three. Her father disappeared and Emeline had been shifted from home to home with apathetic relatives. Blaze met her by chance in an alley behind the bar, and they became fast friends. Emeline had been working in stores since she was thirteen for her various relatives, and she easily got a job and an apartment with Sean as her reference when she turned sixteen. Mostly, before that, she lived on the streets during the day and slept in Blaze's room at night.

  Sean had paid for her dance classes and anything extra she'd wanted to take as she was growing up. She went to school as if she had an adult watching over her. When Emeline came to them eight months back and told them she'd witnessed a murder and she was scared, afraid she was being followed, Sean had helped her leave the country.

  "Em, you described the murder to the police . . ."

  Emeline groaned. "I wish I'd never used the term 'vampire.' I said vampire-like and they didn't believe me. I know there aren't vampires. I even tried to backtrack and say that maybe he had that disease where he believes he's a vampire and murders people and drinks their blood. He had receding gum lines, was pale, his hair was in strings, and all that is explained by the disease. Once I said 'vampire' no one believed a thing I said."

  "We both know it was a vampire," Blaze said quietly. "We didn't want to believe it, but that nightmare . . ." She sighed and pressed her fingertips to her pounding temple. "Emmy, hon, that nightmare is getting closer. You cannot go to work at that club. Some of the things in the nightmare are too real. We both know what happens if it all becomes true. You're safer out of the country. I need you safe, Emmy. Please, go back to France." Her throat closed. She knew Emeline wouldn't go. Not if their nightmare was going to become reality.

  There was a small silence. "Honey, you know I love you. You're my only family. Sean was my father, too. I have to do this. I couldn't live with myself if I wasn't here helping you. I can't give you that. And you know why. If only I hadn't used the word vampire to describe him, the cops wouldn't have dismissed me like I was a lunatic."

  "Emmy, listen to me. The cops believed you. They were dirty. Sean knew it and he got you out of here. Some of them work for this guy and his mob. His name is Reginald Coonan and he owns that club. Sean believed you and so did I. There are others who think . . ." She trailed off, reluctant to reveal anything about Maksim. It felt like betrayal, even with Emeline.

  "Think what?" Emeline insisted.

  "Think he kills like a vampire does. Whatever he is, we know the man calling himself Reginald Coonan murders and drinks the blood of his victims. You saw him."

  "Two of them," Emeline reminded in a whisper. "I still have the nightmares every night. I'm afraid to go to sleep."

  "I know, honey," Blaze said. "That's why you shouldn't go back to that club. If he sees you there . . ."

  "I was hired under the name Sean gave me when he sent me to Europe. I'm doing this, Blaze. For Sean. For you. But most of all for myself. I'm tired of running and I want to come home. You're all I've got."

  Blaze closed her eyes and threw herself backward across the bed. There was no stopping Emeline once she made up her mind to something any more than there was Blaze. "Okay, but we have to be smart," she capitulated. "It's really dangerous."

  "I practically lived on the streets, Blaze, I'm good at this. I've got mad skills in manipulating people into talking to me about things they'd rather not."

  Blaze took a deep breath, her lashes still firmly down. For some reason, the light seeping in from around the blinds bothered her eyes. Her headache was worse when she sat up. "A couple of months ago, a man came into the bar and handed Dad a card with a number on it. They offered to help with the Hallahan problem. I was shocked when Dad saved the card, because we both thought there was a rival mob who wanted to claim our neighborhood."

  Emeline remained silent, waiting.

  Blaze sighed. "I called the number last night because I put the bar in their names in case of my death. I thought if I died, and the Hallahans were still alive, I wanted someone to kill them. What better way than a mobster, right?"

  "You told them you did this? Now you've got two different mob families wanting you dead?" Emeline sounded shocked.

  "Well. No. Not exactly. I slept with one of them. Accidentally. Well." Blaze sat up again and looked down at her body. "Not slept. He had a lot of stamina. We went at it and then I cried over Dad. In front of him, Emmy. I couldn't believe it. And then again, but slower and sweeter. And then again. And again . . ."

  Emeline groaned. "I get the picture. Holy cow, Blaze."

  "I know. Right? He was unbelievable. I mean that. One kiss and I melted. Actually I think I melted long before that. Seriously, just hearing his voice. He has this way of talking. Very low. Soft. But totally commanding. He's . . ."

  Emeline continued for her. "Domineering? Arrogant? Bossy? Oh no, Blaze. And you slept with him? Honey. You just look at men like him. You don't actually sleep with them."

  "Well, actually, Emmy, there wasn't any actual sleeping going on. One look, just his voice, and I totally melted."

  "Um, honey, let me just tell you that dominating, super-sexy men are great to fantasize about, but you never, never actually try to have a relationship with one. It doesn't work in real life. Now at least you know the kind of man you're attracted to and you can watch yourself. I fall for the bad boy every time. The real deal. The more tats, muscle and motorcycles they have, the more I'm falling at their feet. But I don't touch that. Why? Because no matter how good the sex, I know myself. My heart would be involved and I'd get kicked in the teeth. So I don't."

  "Bad boys?" Blaze echoed faintly.

  "One hundred
percent. I like macho. Bossy. Arrogant. I don't even feel a twinge without that, but I'm not dumb, Blaze. I'm not going there. You have to pull it together no matter how good this guy was in bed. You were vulnerable and he took advantage."

  Blaze cleared her throat. "Not really. I'm pretty certain I jumped him."

  "You were vulnerable, honey," Emeline said softly.

  Blaze ran her hand over her thigh. There was a bite mark on the inside, a strawberry up high. Her stomach somersaulted and she felt an instant reaction deep in her body. "Maybe, but I definitely participated."

  "Where is he now?"

  "I don't know. I woke up and he was gone."

  There was a telling silence.

  "I'm not looking for a relationship, Emmy," Blaze said. "It happened and I can't say I'm not glad. It was amazing. I had no idea sex was that amazing, but I have things to do, and a relationship isn't one of them. It happened. I'm moving on."

  "He's one of these mobsters?"

  "I'm not certain they are mobsters," Blaze mused. "More like hunters." Her heart pounded when she said it, and her hand crept up to cover her neck right where her pulse jumped and pounded. "But whatever you saw that night, Emeline, they've seen. We aren't crazy. There's someone . . ."

  "There were two of them," Emeline reiterated. "Not just one. Two."

  "Okay, two of them. But someone else has seen at least one of them. And they saw them kill. They are going after them."

  "Good. Let them. We'll go after the Hallahans because I did some research on them. They can go out in the sunlight. We can get them, Blaze."

  "Just be careful. I'll come into the club in a couple of hours and watch your back."

  "That red hair of yours is impossible to miss," Emeline pointed out. "You can't take any chances, and if you blow it and talk to me, then my cover is blown. As it is, I was lucky I never ran into one of them before Sean got me out of here."

  Blaze sighed very loud. Loud enough for Emeline to hear. "We aren't in a spy movie, Em. Don't get caught up in the drama."