EDGE OF NIGHT

by Rae Morgan, Emma Sinclair, Sherrill Quinn

  Jack kissed a path down her belly. When he withdrew his fingers from her sheath, she whimpered at the loss. She felt his hands slide under her buttocks and she looked down at him. He knelt between her legs, his face attentive, his eyes hungry. As he raised her lower body to bring her to his mouth, his lashes swept down to cover his silvered eyes.

  "Jack, please!" She could hardly catch her breath. Every stab of his tongue, each light nip of his teeth brought her closer and closer to the edge of oblivion.

  His hot breath blew against her just before his tongue flicked out against her clit. She cried out and arched, wordlessly asking for more. He groaned, the sound vibrating through her flesh. He licked her, following her folds up to her clit. Another low groan, and he sucked her pleasure pearl into his mouth.

  Bree's entire body tightened and then shattered as her climax rolled through her. Her scream of ecstasy echoed throughout the cabin.

  Jack groaned and then jerked away from her with a yell. Losing the support of his hands on her buttocks, she dropped onto the sofa and partially slid off before she could right herself.

  "What the hell?" She looked at Jack with a frown.

  "That damned dog of yours just stuck his fucking cold snout up my ass. Oscar! Dammit."

  She looked down to see Oscar with his front legs wrapped around one of Jack's thighs just above the knee. The lower half of the dog's body gyrated against Jack's muscled calf.

  "Oscar!" Bree pressed her lips together and then started laughing. When she caught the disgruntled look on Jack's face, her laughter increased. She put her hands over her mouth and tried to stop, but seeing her dog quite happily humping Jack's leg just started her off again.

  "I'm glad you think it's so funny, chérie," he grumped. He gestured toward his flagging erection. "It's rather taken me out of the moment."

  "I told you, he only does that to people he really likes." She managed to still her laughter, though a few snorts escaped before she got up and grabbed Oscar's collar. "Oscar, bad dog. Stop humping the nice vampire's leg."

  "Oh, very funny."

  Oscar whined, but let her pull him off Jack. She pushed the dog toward the blankets.

  "Go lay down, baby. Everything's all right."

  She got him situated by the fireplace, then stood and faced Jack. Putting as much of a sway in her walk as possible, she swaggered toward him. When she reached him, she rubbed her hands over his shoulders and down to his pecs, scrubbing her thumbs back and forth over his nipples.

  Leaning forward, she swiped her tongue over one taut bud, smiling at his groan. His cock pressed against her, and her smile widened. "Looks like you're having no problem getting back into the moment," she murmured against his flesh.

  "Ah, Brianna... "

  She used her teeth to nip his flesh and he jerked against her. With a muttered oath, he lifted her into his arms and started toward the bedroom. Just as she heard the click clack of Oscar's nails on the floor, Jack said, "Oscar, stay."

  The bulldog whined. Bree looked over Jack's shoulder and saw poor Oscar standing in the hallway, looking after them with a bewildered expression in his eyes.

  "Wait, Jack. He doesn't understand." She waited until Jack stopped, then said, "It's okay, Oscar. You go lay back down."

  The dog whined and shifted his weight.

  "I'm all right, little man. You lay down."

  Oscar chuffed and wagged his tail. After another low woof, he turned and lumbered back to his bed by the fireplace.

  Jack went on into the bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him. He plopped Bree on the bed and stood looking down at her, fists on his hips.

  Her gaze tracked the length of his body, lingering over his ridged abdomen before moving on to his cock. She got on her knees and wrapped one hand around his hard shaft. "Now, where were we?"

  He came down over her, his mouth covering hers with bruising force. There was a small, sharp pain and she tasted blood.

  Jack drew away and licked across her lip. "Sorry, chérie. Sometimes my fangs get in the way if I'm too... hungry."

  Bree slid her tongue out and touched the small wound. Jack's eyes darkened and then the silver slowly bled into his irises. She shivered at the look. Stroking one hand down his lean cheek, she whispered, "Bite me again."

  He smothered a groan and then pressed his mouth to her throat. She felt the prick of his fangs and heat roared through her body as he drank from her. His tongue licked over the tiny wounds and she shuddered, need lying heavy in her core.

  Between one breath and the next, his head was between her legs, his tongue wrapped around her clit. Within a very short time, her body was spiraling toward an orgasm. She clasped her thighs around his head, trying to reach for the climax that hovered just out of reach.

  Jack snarled and pushed her legs apart and continued his carnal assault on her sex. Her entire world coalesced to his mouth, his teeth and lips, and especially his tongue as he speared it into her weeping channel.

  The pleasure built. Bree trembled, gasping for breath. Just as she felt her orgasm start to crash over her, Jack reared up over her and plunged his cock into her clasping body. She screamed and tumbled into her climax.

  Jack held himself still while her sweet cunt rippled around him. He'd intended to take her slowly, savor her. But once he was inside her, his intentions got a stake through the heart. And, when her tremors slowed, he began pumping into her, again and again. Reaching between their bodies, he gently rubbed her clit.

  "Jack, I don't think..." Her voice ended in a gasp and she bucked up against him. "Oh, God."

  Her cunt clasped him like a tight, wet fist, making him battle to push his way in and fight his way back out again. He circled his hips, gritting his teeth against the building pleasure. His balls drew up taut against his body.

  Bree shuddered and cried out, her legs clutching his hips, heels digging into his ass. Her pussy spasmed and he yelled, spilling his seed deep inside her sheath. Bending his head, he fit his fangs into her neck and drank. He closed his eyes, her warm, salty blood cascading down his throat. She moaned and climaxed again.

  As he came down from the pinnacle, he rolled to his side, keeping his cock seated fully within her, and held her close.

  From the moment he'd first laid eyes on Bree, he'd known where he wanted her. In his arms. Forever. And now that she was there, he realized something more.

  He was where he wanted to be, too.

  She shattered every ounce of self-control he'd ever possessed. Remember Rule Number Six, Gerrard? Do not fuck your charge.

  Bree sighed and curled one arm around him. Her nose nuzzled against his throat, and he heard her breathing even out as she fell asleep. He stroked one hand through her hair. Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep breath, dragging her scent deep into his lungs. He loved the way she smelled, the way she felt in his arms. He loved...

  He froze.

  He had broken yet another rule, the one that came right after Do not take the name of the Lord in vain.

  He'd fallen in love with his charge.

  Chapter Nine

  Several hours later, Bree came awake from a sound sleep with a start. "Oh, my God!" Bree sat up and stared down at Jack, who was dozing on his stomach, his forearms crossed under his cheek. "I can't believe I didn't think of this before."

  "Think of what?" His eyes had opened at her initial exclamation but, realizing she wasn't upset or in danger, he closed them and snuggled deeper against the mattress.

  "You could retrieve the flash drive."

  Why hadn't she thought of it before now? Jack would be able to get into the premises unseen and unheard, could grab the small drive and bring it back to her. Then she'd have what she needed to go to the authorities. It was a brilliant idea!

  "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Jack rolled to his back and plumped the pillow under his head, keeping one arm beneath it for added leverage. "First, I'm not a fucking errand boy; I'm your Protector. That means I stay with you, pro-tect-ing you,"
he enunciated. Unfazed by her narrowed eyes, he went on. "Second, because I'm still here, that means you're still in danger. I'm not leaving you alone."

  Bree scowled. She really hated it when he used that condescending tone with her. And while his take-charge attitude was fine in bed, it rankled to have him try to run her life.

  "First," she said, mimicking him in a tone laden with frost, "you're right. You're a fucking something, although I haven't quite figured out what. And second... " Bree poked him in the chest. His eyes lighted with silver sparks and she fought to hold onto her anger. He was so damned sexy it hurt to look at him. "Second, if I give the data to the FBI or the CIA or whoever the hell gets it, the threat to me is gone."

  Unless someone decided to come after her in revenge. But she wouldn't go there. Retrieving the flash drive was a sound plan and it made perfect sense to her. Of course, to his one-track male brain it was probably as clear as the freeway during rush hour.

  "Forget it, chérie. I'm not leaving you alone."

  "But, Jack... ”

  "No. Don't ask me again. I won't do it." His mouth tightened.

  Bree sighed and drew the sheet around her. It wasn't as if he owed her anything. She was nothing more to him than his charge. They'd known each other for two days—she still had a hard time believing that. She felt like she'd known him forever.

  Probably had something to do with the dangerous situation they were in. It heightened their awareness of each other. But she knew, as soon as his job was done, he'd be gone, probably thanking God this particular assignment was over.

  It wouldn't matter to him that she'd fallen in love with him. What did a supernatural being need of love?

  A heavy breath left him and he sat up, drawing her against his chest. He rested his chin on her shoulder. "I was asked to help out with another Protector's charge a few months ago. Michael had recalled that Protector to reprimand him for the numerous violations he'd committed... " Jack pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. "Like letting his charge see him, and making love to his charge. We're not supposed to do that."

  She smiled. Jack had broken the same rules for her. At least that was something.

  "While Damon was with Michael, his charge was kidnapped. She managed to pretty much save herself, but not until she'd been terrorized. It could have been much worse." His mouth pressed against her shoulder. "So I'm not leaving you."

  She leaned her head against his, thinking about what he'd said. Then one of the names hit her. "You said... Michael?"

  "The archangel. The second-in-command. The thinks-he-knows-it-all pain in the ass." His voice was dry.

  "Your boss is an archangel." Bree meant it to come out as a question, but it sounded more like a statement. She didn't know what she expected or why she was surprised. Jack was a supernatural being, after all. In addition to being a vampire, he was something more. But to have a boss who was an archangel...?

  "Yes. But his bark is worse than his bite." It was really the other way around, but there was no need for her to know that. Jack had made his choices, and he would live with them.

  Or not.

  But he'd face the consequences when they came. For now, he had to keep Bree safe.

  He was about to tell her how he felt, to make sure she knew how much she meant to him, when he became aware of a new scent.

  And at that moment from the living room, Oscar started barking.

  "Stay here," he instructed Bree. He climbed off the bed and conjured a pair of jeans. Once the dark denim was fitted around him, he concentrated on his solid form. Within two seconds he was invisible and in the other room. The dog seemed to sense his presence, for he looked his way and whined.

  Jack sent a mental command to Oscar to lie still, and the bulldog gave another whine but obediently settled onto his pile of blankets.

  Through narrowed eyes, Jack watched the front door knob jiggle. He heard the scratching of metal against the lock and in just a few seconds the door creaked slowly open.

  A fair-haired man eased into the darkened living room, closing the door behind him with a soft snick. He stood still for a moment, no doubt letting his eyes adjust from being in bright sunlight to entering the dimly lit cabin.

  Oscar shifted against the blankets and gave a low growl.

  The man looked toward the dog. When Oscar didn't move, the blond moved forward, shuffling his feet, muttering a curse when he bumped into the end table. He grabbed the lamp as it threatened to topple over. He held that pose for several seconds and, when no one came out to investigate, he moved on.

  Jack moved around him and stood in his way as the man started down the hallway toward the bedrooms.

  When he smacked into Jack, he bounced back with a scowl. "What the... " His eyes narrowed.

  Jack knew the other man saw nothing, and was confused as to what had blocked his way. Even so, he apparently wasn't going to let his confusion stop him for long, for he started forward again.

  The bedroom door opened. Jack glanced over his shoulder to see Bree lean out, her eyes widening as she caught sight of the intruder. "Matthias!"

  Jack turned back toward the man. So, this was Matthias Fairchild, the Chief Executive Officer of Conglomerated Metals and the man who was responsible for Bree being in danger. Jack's eyes began to burn and his gums ached as his fangs slid into place.

  This was the bâtard who hired the hitman to kill his Brianna.

  With a growl, Jack grabbed the man by the lapels of his coat and shoved him backward.

  "What the fuck!" Eyes widening at being moved back by an unseen force, Fairchild began to struggle against his unseen attacker. He brought the gun up to waist level and fired.

  Bree shrieked. Jack looked at her long enough to see her duck into the bedroom, then he turned his attention back to the son of a bitch who'd come here to kill her.

  Oscar growled and got off his little bed of blankets, the fur along his back standing up. Jack sent him a silent command to stay put. Then, with a snarl of his own, he wrenched the gun out of Fairchild's hand, and tossed it toward the front door. In an overriding need to terrorize the enemy, he allowed himself to become visible. Slowly, beginning with his fangs.

  By the time he could be seen completely, Fairchild's eyes were wild and his struggles frenzied.

  "I didn't believe him... When Ernie said there was a monster guarding..." He jerked against Jack's hold. "What the hell are you?"

  Jack grinned, pulling his lips back from his fangs. He bent the man over his arm and brought his mouth close to the vein throbbing in Fairchild's neck. "I am the same darkness you have in your soul, you son of a bitch. That same numbing, edge of oblivion blackness."

  With another growl, he fit his fangs into the man's neck. Hot, coppery blood filled his mouth, slid down his throat. Jack closed his eyes and drank.

  This was different from what he'd done with Bree. Drinking from her was all about sex. This was all about the hunger for blood. It had been so long, he'd nearly forgotten the pleasure of feeding.

  How could he have forgotten?

  The man in his hold gave a brief struggle, his throat working under Jack's teeth. Jack snarled and tightened his grip.

  "Jack?" Bree's soft voice came from behind him.

  He lifted his head long enough to order, "Get back in the bedroom."

  "No."

  He heard her soft footfalls as she approached. Looking down at the man lying limp in his arms, he was immediately filled with horrified sorrow. Over a hundred years as a Protector, saving innocents, hadn't done a thing to blunt the black abyss of hunger that took up residence where his soul should be.

  Jack let Fairchild slump to the floor. The man gave a muttered, "Ernie told me not to come... " and then lost consciousness. His heartbeat was slow, but steady. The bastard would live, which was more than he deserved. But it wasn't up to Jack to make that decision.

  He swiped a hand over his mouth and stared at the blood staining his fingers. What had he done?

  What had he bee
n about to do?

  Break yet another rule, Gerrard, that's what.

  Bree reached him and he turned his back to her. He heard her sharply indrawn breath. "Is he...?"

  "He's not dead," Jack muttered, though he didn't add that the only reason for that was because Bree had interrupted him.

  "Are... are you all right?"

  Hell, no, he wasn't all right. He was a fucking monster who'd had no right to put his hands on her.

  After swiping his palm down the side of his jeans—thank God he'd conjured a black pair—he turned to face her. He saw she'd hastily dressed in a pair of jeans and his t-shirt, though she'd left her feet bare.

  Staring down at Fairchild, he said, "I'll take care of him, chérie. You should go back to the bedroom."

  "What does that mean, you'll take care of him?" When he didn't answer, she grabbed his bicep. "Jack? You're not going to... "

  He looked at her with eyes he knew were still silvered with bloodlust. "You can't even say it, can you, Brianna?"

  Her brows drew down in a frown that was reflected in her eyes. "Why are you being like this?"

  "Like what? Like a monster?"

  "Like a jackass!" She put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot against the floor. Oscar whined and heaved himself off the blankets to come and stand by her side, his head tilted at an angle as he looked from her to Jack.

  Jack closed his eyes and scrubbed one hand over his face. "I didn't want you to see me like that," he finally mumbled.

  "Like what?" She crossed her arms and waited, although not very patiently to his way of thinking, since her foot began its tap dance again.

  He stared at her. Was she being deliberately obtuse, or did she not realize what he'd been doing? "With my mouth at another person's throat. With blood on my face."

  Bree sighed and slipped her arms around his waist, hugging him to her. "That is what vampires do, Jack. I'm not a complete imbecile."

  "It's not exactly what most Protectors do," he answered, bringing his own arms up to curve around her. He didn't deserve her, shouldn't sully her with his tainted touch, but he couldn't help himself.

  He felt the warmth of Oscar's body as the dog leaned against his leg. With his eyes closed, he concentrated on the woman in his arms, on her purity and healing touch. When a sound reached him, it took a few seconds to realize that neither he nor Bree had made the noise.