by Jackie Ivie
Devereaux whispered it to the space near her ear. Sydney turned her head toward him, slit her eyes to view the perfect span of neck he put on display, licked her lips. And bit him.
CHAPTER TEN
Sydney slid her index fingers along her upper teeth again, checking for abnormalities. Enlargement. Oddities. Anything out of the normal.
Face it, Syd. You’re looking for fangs.
So if she had fangs, she wondered how and when fangs worked. She’d tried forcing growth. She’d concentrated on focusing and experiencing each canine, imagining them as spikes that tore into flesh and sucked blood. She knew that happened. She’d done it. To Devereaux. She’d refused to suck blood from that hunter guy. Sydney had shuddered at how gross it all was, before trying anew. They were controllable. They had to be. She re-focused. Nothing much happened.
So, she’d tried something different. She’d sent her mind past just her canines, moving to encompass her entire mouth, her lips, tongue... her palate. Other than a loud buzz through her ears, she’d gotten nothing for that, either. It was still better than trying to ignore where Devereaux sat across the little table from her, in what was a very nicely-appointed main cabin in a very expensive-looking private jet. She refused to look at him after the first time. He wasn’t making it easy, either, sprawled as he was in a chair, one arm dangling over an armrest, while the other armrest held his thigh. Occasionally he swung his leg, as if taunting her not to take notice. The guy was a complete failure at air traffic safety. And that was a really stupid thought.
But damn everything. Did he have to be so masculine? So incredibly gorgeous? So physically fit? So stinking perfect? That attire of his did nothing to help, either. His t-shirt and jeans seemed fashioned to make sure she noticed every bit of his physique. Hell. It looked like he displayed it for her.
Oh, bugger.
Her teeth tingled beneath her fingertips as she mentally reconstructed the image of him, despite not looking. Her canines didn’t enlarge, though. Nothing sharp grew. Sydney checked for it surreptitiously, as if there was nothing on her agenda other than studying the span of aircraft wing outside the window at her left ear.
“What are you doing?”
She dropped her hands to her lap as Devereaux slid soundlessly into the swivel captain chair beside her matching one. She placed him by his voice, since nothing reflected in the window other than the rest of the cabin interior.
Well, at least that was an accurate bit of vampire lore. They didn’t have a reflection. Neither of them.
“I am not speaking to you, Devereaux,” she told the window.
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t give you time-out like my parents used to do to me. Well. I can. But I probably can’t enforce it.”
“Time out?”
“Yes. Time-out. In the corner. It’s a form of punishment.”
“Punishment? For what?”
“For what? You are truly unbelievable. I was just coming to grips with the reality of pushing thirty, I’ve got a mountain of college debt that I might never repay – especially since all I can land in the film industry are peon jobs that barely cover rent – and then add in my failed marriage and the news that I’m never going to be a mother without involving science, because that’s what happens after two ectopic pregnancies and a hysterectomy. And why on earth am I telling you this, anyway? It’s totally old news, completely personal, and I’m not even supposed to be speaking to you. Remember?” Her voice caught. She hoped he wouldn’t notice.
“Why are you telling me, then?”
He hadn’t noticed. “Hmm. Good question. Look. Dev. I like to think I’m a rational person. Not prone to fits of hysteria. Fairly normal, really – if a bit inventive. But this? This? Well. This is beyond even my imagination.”
“What is?”
“Are you for real? I’m a vampire! That means I’m dealing with being dead. D. E. A. D. Dead. Oh bugger. I should probably say undead, shouldn’t I?”
“Oh. That.”
“Yes. That. Duh. I’m a real, suck-blood-no-matter-how-gross-it-is, vampire. You turned me into this thing and that’s all you have to say about it?”
“I don’t know what you want to hear.”
“How about ‘I’m sorry’?”
“But... I’m not sorry.”
“What?”
Sydney’s voice elevated slightly and with that, her teeth reacted. Her eyes widened at a sensation not unlike a dental hygienist probing about with a tool in her mouth.
“I didn’t mean to... well. Uh. I can’t even say that. I did mean to. Just not quite at that time. Is that what you want to hear? Because I can’t say I’m sorry. How can I be? It was inevitable, actually.”
“Excuse me?”
“Didn’t you listen, earlier? You’re my mate, Sydney. Mine. Just as I am yours. We’re destined for each other. Our worlds entwined. Fused. Forevermore. And by the sweetest, ficklest, most generous turn of fate, we actually found each other. It isn’t something we can fight. It isn’t negotiable. It isn’t deniable.”
“You’re talking the mating thing? Again?”
“Again? No. Always. I will never cease speaking of it and it will never change. Don’t you see? We’re mates. You and me. For all eternity.”
“See? There you go. And isn’t there supposed to be a few dates, some fantastic sex, and then, maybe - if we’re real compatible - maybe a proposal tossed out? And maybe accepted? What happened to all that?”
“You let me speak, but either I’ve lost my ability to articulate or you’ve already closed your ears. You’re not listening.”
“Oh. I listen. I’m just not that gullible anymore. Maybe it’s because I’m older than you. More mature.”
“We’re mates, Sydney Ross LLC. It’s a fact. Face it.”
“And, there you go again. Just like a broken record.”
His answer was in an even deeper voice, gaining a range of bass tones that reverberated through the cabin and then filtered through her spine.
“Some vampires never find their mate, Sydney. They’re doomed to an eternity of loneliness. Our oldest associate has wandered the earth for thousands of years, alone... bereft. It’s rumored he once spoke of it. Of his uncertainty. And that just maybe his mate had already had a lifespan here. And he’d missed her.”
Damn everything.
His voice had warbled slightly and what should be a dead heart pinched her from within her breast. And that was just not possible. So it wasn’t happening. And she refused to accept it. And that was that.
But it still happened.
“I can’t imagine how that must feel... especially now. I mean, I wasn’t truly caring before - one way or the other. I’d learned to avoid consideration of anything tactile in this undead existence. Pleasure. Passion. Kisses... ah! I avoided even thinking of them. I sent any consideration of physical and emotional love deep into the recesses of memory... because it was lost to me. Gone. And gradually even the thought faded; obliterated by time, just as everything else is. And then... I find it difficult to find words. You... uh. Oh Sydney... you arrived! Like it was nothing to upend my entire world. Just like that. I am so lucky! So incredibly lucky. Please understand. I had to change you. My only other recourse was to watch you grow old as you age, and then allow you to die... and leave me. I’d be alone again, but it would be immeasurably worse than before. Because now I know how it feels.”
His voice had cracked twice more during that speech and her canine teeth vibrated oddly against her lips each time. It harmonized with the shudders consuming her entire body. And the little thrill that coursed her limbs with his every word, each nuance of inflection in his voice. The tremor. The deep timbre of his voice. The message that seemed to reach out....
Stop that, Sydney.
She was not willing to feel anything for him. She had to end this insanity. Despite his declarations of forever love and mating, and the fantastic passion stuff, she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to reciprocate. How could she? He migh
t be gorgeous. Moving. Immensely loving. Completely amazing in the sex department. But he was a vampire. A blood-sucking fiend. An evil creature of the night. Nothing more than a dead body that moved. A monster.
Exactly like her.
Sydney narrowed her eyes and tightened her jaw, and thought she detected a prick into her lower lip. A quick check with her tongue vetoed that idea. Nothing was elongated. Or sharp. Or out of place. Nothing had changed. Little had changed about the view out the window as well. And ignoring Devereaux wasn’t changing anything. She’d never been so stuck. Captured. Imprisoned. Without one bit of recourse.
She pulled in a big draught of air before realizing the stupidity of it. She didn’t breathe anymore. That was insanity at its finest. Another was the belief that the hollow thump inside her was a beating heart. She frowned and forced her voice to be steady. Firm.
“Can I ask you a question, Dev? Uh... off the record?”
“What record?”
“You’re in time-out, remember? I’m giving you the silent treatment. The least you can do is accede and keep up.”
“Oh. Right. Very well. Ask your question and I’ll answer. Off the record.”
“Well. Look... if I’m going to decide on this vampirism thing, I’m going to need some more info.”
He snorted but stopped instantly. And if he said one thing about how she was already turned, and the decision made, she was never speaking to him again. At least, not for the duration of this flight. And just why was it taking so long to get from New Orleans to Belize anyway? It wasn’t that far.
“I’m trying to be mature here and talk in a logical fashion, which is exactly what my ex-husband constantly accused me of avoiding. Is that alright with you?”
“Forgive me. What do you wish to know?”
“I’m dead. Right?”
“Undead.”
“Devereaux.”
“Again. Forgive me. Yes. You are technically dead. Yes.”
“And that equates to – um. I shouldn’t have a heartbeat. Or, or. Or... the need to swallow. Or feel warmth. Or chill. I shouldn’t feel anything. Right?”
“Normally. But you skipped that phase, Love.”
Love?
She was in trouble now. The word slipped off his tongue and what couldn’t be her heart reacted. Something within her chest felt like it swelled and warmed, and that made her eyes smart with what couldn’t possibly be tears, while her throat sealed off with a fist-sized obstruction. And none of this should be things she had to deal with if she were dead.
“How?” she asked.
The word was choked. Barely intelligible. Damn everything. He probably knew why, too. That fact carried through the sinfully warm tone of his voice. And the feel of breath against her throat as if he’d gotten close enough to have that effect. As if he actually breathed.
“Normally, vampirism is a living death, exactly as you suspect; a continual span of nothingness; a quest for sustenance followed by a span while we wait for the next need for blood. I’m with the Vampire Assassin League for a reason. I like the difficulties of an intricate assignment because they’re interesting. I accrue worldly goods for the same reason. It provides something to occupy the time. In the undead world, you learn that nothing really has much value. Iron rusts. Springs sag. Bricks can even crumble. Every night is the same. The only thing that can possibly change that is if we find our mates. Then all kinds of wonderful things happen. It’s... akin to rebirth. Reawakening. Sensation returns, feelings grow, passion reignites, and parts... uh. Well. Parts reanimate. Everything lost to us comes back. Everything. That’s how I knew what you were to me. I felt you.”
“How? Your dick grew hard?”
He growled with a massive throb of tone that slammed into the cabin walls, stretching seams while the window she watched actually cracked, right down the center. And her dead heart pulsed with what actually felt like fear. And then her teeth really did slice her inner lip. Sydney lifted a hand to touch them. She wasn’t mistaken. Her fangs really were sprouting.
She twisted to face him, and that’s when she knew exactly what it felt like to have her heart sink. It was visceral. And painful. And it just sent beat after hurtful beat from the pit of her stomach, as if any of that was logical or physically possible, or even sane.
“You dare belittle me?”
Oh... major wow. Her heart didn’t just enlarge or choke her off. It was painfully hitting at her ribs. Devereaux’s eyes were narrowed, yet she didn’t have any trouble interpreting the absolute rage radiating from them. His mouth was at full snarl, his fangs on full display. She’d never seen anything as frightening. Nor as exciting. Riveting. Electrifying.
“Uh...Dev?”
That breathless, smoldering voice couldn’t be hers, could it? Because she sure hadn’t meant to sound like a sex siren at full alert. Where was the justice in that? Devereaux pulled his head back, closed his mouth, and then he regarded her with a frown between his brows. That look was worse than stimulating. Every prolonged bit of viewing him sent trills of shivers coursing her skin.
“Um...my fangs. Look. They...grew.”
She used the same throaty voice, the one that sent sensual vibes without a hint of effort. She watched him lick his lips before he dipped his chin to regard her; his obsidian dark eyes still narrowed. Unblinking. Everything on her body ratcheted up a notch in anticipation. Or something.
“Yes,” he answered finally.
“I get it. It’s emotion that triggers it. Right?”
“Yes,” he replied again.
“And what makes them retract?”
Before he could answer, the intercom came on, disrupting and altering what was turning into a vortex of want. Need. Sexual urgency. Fervency. Craving. Sydney glared at the speaker at the same time she silently thanked it.
“Good morn back there! Looks like we’re coming up on Belize City, folks. Should be touching down in about ten minutes. And not that anyone ever does, but if you’d like to take a seat and fasten a seatbelt, well. Now is your chance.”
“Vaughn?” Devereaux enquired.
“Yep. In the flesh.”
“Why aren’t you at Casa Castillion, renting the estate to that film crew?”
“Anyone can do that. We do have Power of Attorney paperwork. You should know. You signed it. And I’m a pilot. The best. Akron changed the plan. So. You ready to land or what?”
“How long until dawn?”
“Right. Vampires. Give me a sec. Let’s see... sunrise? Belize City? Looks like you got... two hours, eleven minutes.”
Devereaux hadn’t moved his gaze from hers. He lifted his eyebrows as if awaiting something.
“What?” Sydney asked.
“You ready to accept me?”
“Now I get a proposal?”
“Sydney Ross LLC. It’s your decision. You want to land? Or... you want to circle for a bit while you work on those fangs of yours?”
“You’re actually giving me a choice?”
“And a condition.”
“Oh really. What is it?”
“You accept me. Us. I won’t take it any other way.”
“It?”
Sydney licked her lips. He pulsed in place. She watched it. Gloried in it. Barely kept from launching into his lap over it.
“Women! Can’t live with them. Can’t live without them. Whoever said that was a genius.”
“How original,” she replied in the same low voice.
“I speak and it still comes out wrong. Sydney. Please. You are my mate. My one. My only. I cannot change that and I don’t want to. You want an apology? I can’t speak one. It would be false. I may not have been an honorable man, but something about you changes me. Please understand. I cannot believe how much I love you. Already. And I want you. Need you. Crave you. Merde! Everything on me is in revolt because I won’t act on that desire. I don’t know what else to say. The two hours before you’ll need rest is barely enough time to begin.”
“You still listen
ing, Vaughn?” Sydney turned her head to ask it.
“Oh. I—uh...”
“Well... turn off the switch and start circ—”
Devereaux’s kiss interrupted her. He hadn’t been exaggerating his need. Or his readiness. He was just lucky he didn’t say a word about how well it matched hers.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Devereaux had read the file while his beloved rested, her body in a stasis resembling death, although the bloom on her cheeks and her lips belied it. She was stunning. Wonderful. Extremely agile... and he truly appreciated it. Vaughn probably had a laugh at their expense when he saw the wreck they’d made of the aircraft cabin. Dev didn’t care. He had other options. He’d already ordered a replacement jet for this evening. They could destroy that cabin, too.
What a pleasant thought.
The file had been large. Complete. It took up a few bytes on his inbox before he’d deleted it. It hadn’t been original but it was still interesting. Devereaux smirked through most of the words. Humans and greed and family ties. He’d lived some of those plot points and read more than his share over the years.
Looks like he had a family blackheart to assassinate.
It would be a pleasure.
The assignment was Anton Carlotti Hughes. Height: a shade under six foot. Weight: too much. According to the photo attachments, he looked to be carrying some table paunch around. He was a fairly young twenty-seven. Arrogant. Self-confident. Aggressive. Spoiled. Flamboyant dresser. Italian descended... through his mother’s side. He had a receding hairline he blamed on his matriarchal line. It was especially noticeable, since he wore his hair long and pulled back in a shoulder-length queue. The ladies apparently found him handsome enough, or the photos were inaccurate.
That might be due to his income more than his looks, however. Anton Hughes held an extremely well-paying job. Being nephew to the Carlotti Brothers Menswear founder and CEO was a lucrative position. Apparently his uncle had put Anton in the finance department, reporting directly to the Chief Financial Officer.
Tsk. Tsk.
The Senior Carlotti hadn’t even checked on his nephew’s job performance until two of his heirs and sons were assassinated. Fairly recently, too. The money trail pointed right to the embezzling nephew, Anton Hughes. That information sent Carlotti Senior to VAL. And that took Devereaux and Sydney to this area of jungle watching one small wood-framed bungalow as the night got blacker, the insects more voracious sounding, and then a slight mist decided to add to the setting. His denims darkened with moisture as they got heavy with damp and then clung. The t-shirt was the next casualty.
