EDGE OF NIGHT

by Rae Morgan, Emma Sinclair, Sherrill Quinn

  And wintertime always made him even colder. After all, he'd been about to freeze to death in the middle of what had come to be called the Little Ice Age when Lilith had turned him into a predator.

  He pushed memories of the lamia to the back of his mind. "May we get back to the subject, please?"

  Bree blinked at him and then slumped back against the sofa. A tear leaked from the corner of her eye and he cursed himself for destroying her playful mood. He should've realized she was merely postponing talking about what had been—and continued to be—a very frightening ordeal.

  She scrubbed away the tear. "I'm the Human Resources Manager at Conglomerated Metals. A few weeks ago, an employee came to me to ask me what he should do about something he'd discovered."

  "Scott Mortimer," Jack said.

  She looked at him. "Yes. You know?"

  "Only the basics." He came back to the sofa and sat down. "Mortimer, one of the new engineers, discovered the mine was illegally dumping its waste products."

  Bree nodded and a sob broke from her throat. Her lips tightened and she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Scott was... He was killed by a hit-and-run driver just two days after he came to see me."

  Her tear-filled gaze met his. "Where were you then? Why couldn't you have saved him like you saved me?"

  Jack hated this part. How could someone like him explain mortality? "It was his time, chérie," he finally murmured. "There was no Protector assigned to him."

  She closed her eyes, shaking her head. "He was twenty-four years old, just one year out of college. How the hell could it have been his time?"

  Another tear streaked down her cheek, and Jack couldn't resist touching her. Reaching out, he stroked his thumb across her face, wiping away the moisture. Her skin was petal smooth against his hand, sending his mind to one central thought: would she be this silken against his mouth?

  When Bree sighed and pressed her face into his palm, he was lost. Bringing up his other hand, he cupped her face and slanted his mouth over hers. He meant it to be simple, a comforting gesture, but the feel of her lips under his made that impossible.

  His mouth played with hers, teeth lightly nipped, and his tongue darted between her parted lips to duel with hers. When he withdrew his tongue into his own mouth, she followed. He groaned and gently sucked on her tongue.

  Slender hands gripped his biceps and then slid up his shoulders and into his hair. Bree released the leather tie that held his hair gathered at the nape of his neck, tangling her fingers in the dark locks.

  Merde, but it had been so long since he'd felt a woman's touch. He'd almost forgotten how soft, how sweet it could be.

  Jack shifted, pulling her underneath him as he stretched out on the sofa, making a place for himself in the cradle of her thighs. He kissed a path from her mouth to the sensitive skin beneath her ear, then down her soft throat.

  Bree stiffened. "Um, should I be worried?"

  He pressed his face against her jugular, feeling her pulse thrumming steadily under her skin. His teeth throbbed, his prick throbbed. It was an ache that would only be alleviated by sinking fangs and cock into her soft, willing body.

  A low groan left him. She wasn't his for the taking. He was her Protector, and that was it. That was all it could ever be for, even if he were to be "released from his contract," he'd still be a vampire.

  A blood-sucking monster. Just the way Lilith liked him.

  With a violent oath, Jack jerked away from Bree, stood up and paced to the fireplace. Leaning against the mantle, he stared into the flames with unseeing eyes. This immediate and primal reaction to a woman hadn't happened since he'd become a Protector. As far as he knew, it wasn't supposed to happen.

  Of course, his friend and former Protector Damon Trelawney had it happen to him when he'd been assigned to protect Abby. But Damon had been human once upon a time, and went back to being human when his contract was cancelled. Damon and Abby had made a life together, while he...

  He was envious.

  And he shouldn't be. That was a life he'd never have. For what woman would willingly attach herself to a man... No, not a man. A monster. A monster that could kill her as easily as love her.

  He scowled. Where the hell did that come from?

  Love?

  Who was he kidding?

  "Jack?" Bree's soft voice sounded from behind him. "What is it? What's wrong?"

  He glanced down at the erection pushing insistently against the button-fly of his jeans. Other than the fact I have a hard-on when it shouldn't be possible? he wanted to ask. But he didn't.

  "Nothing," Jack responded. He took a deep breath and then turned to face her. "I... shouldn't be touching you that way. We need to keep things strictly... professional between us."

  She pursed her lips and one slender eyebrow arched. "You know, the last guy I dated said that to me. I'm surprised I haven't formed a complex about it." Her head tilted to one side. "Is it me?"

  "God, no!" Jack winced. When would he learn to stop using the Big Guy's name? Having what felt like an ice pick to his temple every time he did was singularly unpleasant, to say the least. "It's not you. It's me."

  "Hmm." She stood and started to walk away from him. He heard her muttered, "Men."

  Oscar's head lifted and he tracked her progress with intelligent canine eyes.

  "That's what he said, too." Her voice was dry, self-deprecating. But she didn't seem overly upset by him calling a halt to their lovemaking.

  "He was a prick," Jack muttered, watching as she walked into the kitchen.

  "What?" she called back over her shoulder.

  "Nothing." He was the last creature on earth that should be passing judgment on another. But after watching Bree for the last several weeks, seeing how funny and smart and sassy she was, he'd been drawn to her. If he let himself, he could very easily convince himself he was already in love with her.

  Idiot.

  Bree opened the refrigerator and bent over, one hand on the door, one knee bent and swinging. "What's in here to eat? I'm starving!"

  The movement of her shapely ass mesmerized Jack as it moved from side to side. He couldn't take his eyes off it. "There should be something in there," he finally managed to say in a voice tight with need. "I contacted one of the other Protectors and asked him to stock the place with food."

  He heard the click-clack of doggie paws on the hardwood floor and had a vague impression of Oscar ambling past him to go beg at the refrigerator.

  "Salad." Her voice held a note that made him instantly wary. "Fruit. Yogurt. And what's this?" She bent over further. One hand reached out and patted the dog, and she let out a light giggle when Oscar's fat, wet tongue swiped over her fingers.

  Jack walked closer, his hands curled into fists. All he wanted to do was strip her, hold her ample hips and plunge his cock into her silky depths. There were a thousand and one reasons why it would be a bad idea. The biggest of which was a Protector becoming intimate with his charge wasn't sanctioned.

  At all.

  The fact that Damon had broken that rule and yet had been given back his humanity was a reward unheard of. A reward Jack certainly never expected. Not after the damage he'd done in the fifty years he'd been a vampire.

  "Why is there tofu here?" Bree's voice broke into his thoughts, bringing him back to the conversation.

  "Don't you like tofu?" he asked with some consternation. He had no idea what people ate nowadays; he hadn't had a charge assigned to him in almost five years. But he seemed to remember women had different tastes than men, that they went for the more... unusual and sometimes even unappetizing foods because they were 'healthy'.

  "Where's the beef? The chicken?" She straightened and looked at him, planting one hand on her hip. "I'd even take turkey if I had to."

  Oscar woofed as if in agreement. His stubby tail wiggled for emphasis.

  "Um... " Jack floundered, completely out of his depth. He himself hadn't ingested food in nearly two hundred years. What the hell did he know about
it?

  "Oh, never mind." Bree sighed and bent again to take out salad fixings.

  Unable to stop himself, Jack reached out and stroked a palm down one of her firm buttocks.

  The touch of his hand on her ass made Bree jump. She straightened and turned to stare at him over a fistful of celery stalks. His handsome face wore such an expression of bewildered disgruntlement—as if he were embarrassed—that she couldn't stop the smile that curved her lips. Which made him scowl even more.

  Pressing her lips together, she took pity on him and didn't say anything more. She carried the salad items to the counter. After washing her hands and drying them on a dishtowel she found in one of the drawers, she quickly prepared her meal. "Should I fix you some?" she asked, looking sideways at him.

  He shook his head. "I don't eat."

  She blinked. "Ever?"

  Jack raised one thick brow. "I'm a vampire, chérie," he murmured.

  Her face flamed at his gentle reminder. Hadn't she just worried about him biting her, when they'd been necking? Literally. Yet here she was, offering to fix him a salad. Doofus.

  Bree's only defense was she was off balance. In one day, she'd run from a killer only to have him find her again, and had been saved from the assassin's bullet by a vampire guardian angel.

  A guardian who certainly didn't kiss like an angel.

  Unless he was an angel of sin. Which was entirely possible.

  One thing was certain: she wanted him like she hadn't wanted a man in a long time. Was it the aura of mystery surrounding him that made him so... appetizing? Was it the danger the vampire part of him presented? Perhaps it was the way his tawny eyes went silver when he was aroused and his very sharp, white teeth.

  Or, just maybe, it was the fact that she might not live to see tomorrow.

  Chapter Five

  Eating dinner under a vampire's unwavering stare—a stare that kept turning silver and then going back to normal—was a sure way to go on a diet, and fast. Jack was still aroused, but fighting it, if the state of his eyes was anything to go by. After eating only about half of her salad, Bree finally put down her fork and glanced at him.

  He'd shed his bulky sweater earlier and now wore only a white t-shirt and his button-fly jeans. The leather tie held his hair back once more and he wore shit-kickers on his feet. The big, thick-soled shoes made his feet look twice the size of hers.

  Hmm. Big feet, big...?

  She squirmed in her chair, trying to relieve the ache between her thighs. Her clit throbbed, her sheath felt hot and empty. If not for the way Jack kept a tight leash on his arousal, she just might have put the moves on him.

  But she wasn't sure... He was a vampire, after all. While he hadn't hurt her and she didn't believe he would under normal circumstances, what would happen if he lost control? That was why, when he'd stopped kissing her earlier, she hadn't let herself get too upset. At the time, she'd thought it wasn't a bad idea to stop.

  Now, the way her entire body seemed to be one big, aroused nerve, she wasn't so sure.

  Oscar put a paw on her calf and gave a soft chuff.

  Deciding the best course of action at this point was to ignore one male in favor of another, she looked down at her bulldog and shook her head. "No, you cannot have any."

  She pointed toward his food bowl, which she'd set next to the refrigerator. Jack had grumbled, but in the end had taken the time to stop at a grocery store to let her buy necessities for her dog. If she'd known then that the only food in the place for her was salad and tofu, she would've bought food for herself as well. "You go eat your own food."

  The dog glanced toward his dish and then looked back at her and woofed again.

  "He's persistent, isn't he?" Jack asked, drawing her attention back to him. A small smile curved his lips.

  "Yes, he is," Bree agreed. Looking back at Oscar, she said, "No."

  He heaved a wheezy sigh and padded over to his dish. After a brief sniff, he continued toward the back door and stopped, looking at her over one shoulder. His stubby tail gave a little wag and he barked.

  It was her turn to sigh. "Oscar, you just did your business... ” she glanced at the clock above the stove... “three hours ago."

  Bree looked at the clock again. It had only been three hours since Jack had appeared in front of her, taking a bullet meant for her. Only three hours since her definition of reality had been twisted and the stuff of legend was brought to life before her eyes.

  And not all that that long ago since she'd made out with him, his mouth at her throat, his heavy erection pressed insistently against the juncture of her thighs.

  Oscar barked again and did the little dance he always did when he was insistent about going out.

  "Oh, okay already." She pushed back her chair and started toward the living room. "Let me get my coat."

  She grabbed her coat and put it on, then picked up Oscar's leash from the back of the sofa where she'd tossed it when she first came into the house. Turning, she would have barreled into Jack had he not grabbed her upper arms and halted her momentum.

  "Good God, Jack." Bree stared up into his face and tried to keep her breathing normal. This close to him, she could see flecks of silver in the light brown of his irises. In an effort to hide her own sparking arousal, she went on the defensive. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

  "Sorry." He stared at her face, his gaze zeroing in to her mouth. Then he seemed to collect himself, and released her arms and stepped aside. He grabbed his short leather coat and shrugged into it.

  Bree bent and clipped the leash to a prancing Oscar. Straightening, she said to Jack, "You know, I wondered about that." She pointed to his jacket. "Why do you even bother?"

  A quick scowl crossed his face. "I don't like the cold."

  She glanced out the window, and saw it had begun to snow. "Can you even feel it?"

  "Of course I can feel it."

  There was the irascible vampire she'd first met. She put one hand on her hip and met his scowl with one of her own. If he wanted to pout, fine. But he didn't have to bite her head off while he did so.

  Before she could say anything, he held up one hand. "Sorry," he muttered, and rubbed his palm over the back of his neck. "I was turned in the winter of 1812. Most of my compatriots had already died—from either starvation or exposure to the cold. I was spared—if you can call it that—from freezing to death."

  "Who..." Bree trailed off, uncertain how he'd react to her prying.

  Apparently tired of waiting, Oscar woofed and grabbed the leash in his mouth, giving a tug and growling.

  "All right, already." Bree zipped up her coat and headed toward the back door, tripping over the bulldog nattering at her feet. "Jeez Louise, Oscar!"

  He panted happily and clattered across the floor, nails clacking against the wood.

  She was aware that Jack trailed behind her, although he made no noise. No sound of his footsteps across the floor, not even the sound of clothes swishing together. So his voice, when it came, startled her.

  "I was made a vampire by Lilith."

  One hand on the doorknob of the back door, she glanced back at him. "Lilith?" Her face scrunched in confusion. "As in Frasier’s wife?"

  Jack huffed an exasperated sigh. "No. As in Adam's first wife. She was—is—a lamia."

  Bree pursed her lips. She still had no idea what he was talking about. And so, as before, she resorted to wacky humor. "Is that anything like a llama?"

  One of his eyebrows drew down. He clearly didn't appreciate her wittiness. She'd have to work on developing his sense of humor.

  "A lamia is a type of succubus. In its natural form it has the upper body of a woman, and the lower body of a snake, but it can appear—and function—as fully human." A dark look crossed his face and his mouth thinned. He drew the collar of his jacket up.

  "And that's what made you... what you are?"

  "Yes." He stared at her, his gaze intense for a moment before it softened. "But you don't need to be afraid of me, chérie. I
'd have to do more to you than just bite you to turn you into a vampire. And I'd never condemn you to that kind of existence. Never."

  He nodded toward the door in a clear but unspoken instruction for her to open it, and she rolled her eyes. Guess that meant the conversation was over. For now. But she would satisfy her curiosity later, one way or another.

  Bree flipped on the outside light and pulled open the door. Oscar shot outside. Pulled along by the dog, she skated across the wooden deck and flailed her way down the slick steps. Crying out, she lost her balance, feet flying up in the air. Her arms wind milling, she let go of the leash. With a jarring thud, she landed on her rear on the snow-covered ground.

  The bulldog yipped and came over to her, his solid body pressing against her as if in apology.

  Jack knelt beside her, his eyes dark with concern. "Are you all right, chérie?" he asked.

  "Oh, yeah." She blew out a sigh. "The only damage is to my ego, I think."

  "Is anything broken?"

  "How the hell should I know?" Bree grunted at a small twinge of pain in her tailbone, but when it quickly faded, she figured she was all right. "I think I'm okay."

  Jack moved around in front of her and slipped his hands under her arms. He stood, pulling her upright at the same time. Her breath hitched at the show of effortless strength.

  His head dipped, his lashes falling to shield his eyes, but not before she'd seen the heat flare. She felt a flash of fear, an instinctive reaction when faced with an ultimate predator. Then lust slammed into her so hard her knees gave way. If it hadn't been for Jack, she would've gone right back down onto the ground.

  "You are hurt," he muttered, and swept her up into his arms.

  She thrilled at his easy strength. It made her feel special and oh, so feminine. "I'm not hurt. Just needy."

  His gaze met hers again, entrancing her with swirling silver sparks in his irises. With a muttered curse, he slanted his mouth over hers, lips open, seeking, inviting.

  Bree sighed into his mouth. No wonder vampires had the reputation of being able to mesmerize their victims. Seeing passion deepening in him in such a visual way was an incredible turn-on.

  She twined her arms around his neck, her fingers sliding into the silk of his hair. She slipped her tongue between his lips, tangling with his briefly before pulling it back just enough to touch the tip to one of his fangs.