by Raven Stone
What would it matter, in the end?
He flicked a finger across my clit, through my panties, and I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut.
What would it matter?
It would matter a lot, I admitted to myself. Because I knew I would think about this again, especially if I fucked him. I would think about his cock deep in me, and if he was dead, then I would know I would never have that again.
And it mattered.
So I pulled his hand away from me, taking him by the wrists and putting his arms above his head.
“Don’t move,” I said.
He smiled. “Take my belt and tie me to the bed with it.”
My eyes widened. But really, who was I to argue? It would make my job easier, after all. I slid the belt out of his pants, then looped it around his wrists and secured him to the bed.
He looked at me with that same lazy smile, those dark, heated eyes. I ran a finger down his jaw, and across his lips.
He kissed the tip of my finger. “Are you going to get the stake now?”
I shivered. Surely I hadn’t heard him right.
“What?”
He laughed softly. “The stake. It’s right there along the edge of the bed. Or would you prefer the one under the pillow?”
I blinked at him. “You knew?”
He laughed again. “Of course. Now unbutton my shirt. It’ll be a lot easier if you don’t have to get the stake through the cloth.”
I glanced down, realizing just now that we were both still dressed. It was hard to believe after two orgasms, but it was true.
He gazed at me with an open, easy expression, and I shook my head. Maybe he was suicidal. I did as he said, though, and unbuttoned his shirt. It didn’t matter that my hands were shaking. It didn’t matter that my stomach was churning.
It didn’t matter.
I reached the bottom, spread the shirt wide, and my hands stilled.
His chest was the hard muscled masterpiece I’d felt under my body. But it was also covered in scars; a testament to survival against all odds.
I trailed my fingers across his muscles, over his scars, utterly fascinated.
“They said you were a badass,” I said, almost to myself.
“Did they? I’m flattered.” His tone was amused.
My fingers trailed further up, and up, towards two black holes tattooed into his skin.
“Stop,” he commanded.
I did, to my complete surprise. My fingers were just an inch shy of the tattoo. “Why?”
“Because I said so.”
I smiled. “So I can kill you, I just can’t touch you there?”
He returned my smile. “I never said you could kill me.”
“No?” I cocked my head and reached for the stake tucked between the edge of the bed and the wall.
I stretched for it, my fingers finally finding it, wrapping around it, and bringing it back to me. I clutched it as relief spread through me. I’d figured it was gone, the moment he admitted he knew about it.
“Do you have a death wish?” I asked, splaying my free hand across his stomach, resisting the urge to follow his happy trail.
“No,” he replied. “I just don’t think you’re a killer.”
“You don’t know me,” I said flatly. I let my expression turn blank.
Money.
I wouldn’t think about this man, or about how much I wanted him. I wouldn’t think about how much I liked him. I would just think about what the money could do for me. How it would get me back home.
Home.
That’s what I wanted, more than anything.
My grip tightened on the stake.
“You are many things, but you are not a killer,” he said softly.
His grey eyes seared into me, but this time it wasn’t from desire. This time it felt like he could see the innermost parts of me, the parts I kept hidden from the Crew, from the people here. From everyone.
“No.” I shook my head, and gripped the stake with both hands. “You don’t know me. I can do this. I will do this.”
His hand cupped my face, something warm in his eyes.
Then he took his hand away. He stretched under me, exposing his body, his heart.
“Then take me,” he said. “I’m yours.”
Goddammit.
My vision wavered.
My heart raced.
And then the door burst open.
Chapter 4
Nadia - Brazil
The first thing I noticed wasn’t the three men coming through the door, or the fact that they weren’t members of the Crew, or that they slammed the door shut behind them.
No, the first thing I noticed was how easily Degarr broke the belt; simply widening his arms and snapping it.
Son of a bitch.
He’d always been able to get free.
Then there was a flurry of activity. He sprang to his feet, pushing me back against the wall and shielding me with his body as he faced the three invaders.
Two of them spread out, facing him, as the third blocked the door.
“There’s nothing for you here,” Degarr said. “I’ve already fed from her. She’s no good to you now, and there’s plenty downstairs besides.”
They must be vampires then. But why were they here?
“We don’t want your human.” The vampire on the left sneered. He was blonde, with a thin face and a bulbous nose. He was also holding a crossbow against his leg.
“What then?” Degarr asked. His left hand was outstretched with the palm towards them, indicating he was no threat. He held his right arm along his side, the hand facing me. I was the only one who could see something metal sliding into his palm.
“We want you,” said the vampire on the right. He was a brunette, and only slightly better looking than his companion. “The Sword of Gabriel. That’s you, right?”
The sword of who?
The metal object in Degarr’s hand slid to a stop. It looked like a stake. Where had he hidden that?
The brunette pointed a crossbow directly at Degarr. “Answer me.”
“That’s me,” Degarr said, his voice deadly calm. “Are you sure you want to do this? You can still leave. I’ll let you go.”
Was he insane? He had to know the vampires had the upper hand. There were three of them, armed with crossbows, and only one of him.
But looks flashed between the three vampires. For a minute, I thought they were going to chicken out, but then the brunette raised his chin.
“We’re sure that we’re going to stake you, and rip your girlfriend’s head off.”
“Okay then,” Degarr said easily.
Shit.
I expected Degarr to go for the blonde, since his crossbow was still pointing at the floor. Instead, he grabbed the brunette’s arm, pointed his crossbow at the blonde, and triggered it. The blonde exploded into dust, even as Degarr raised his right hand and plunged the metal stake into the brunette. He burst into ash too. Degarr turned his head away, keeping the ash out of his eyes, and crossed the room in three strides. He staked the third vampire before he’d had a chance to choose between raising his crossbow or dashing out of the room.
Seconds.
It had taken mere seconds for Degarr to clear the room of three vampires intent on killing him.
The wooden stake I’d clutched for agonizing moments fell from my hand.
How had the Crew ever thought they would be able to kill this man?
Chapter 5
Nadia - Brazil
“Who the fuck are you?” I asked. My voice was loud, and a bit shaky, in the quiet room.
He turned back to me with a curious look on his face. “You know who I am. I’m John Degarr.”
“No, they called you the Sword of Gabriel. Who the fuck is that?”
“Me,” he replied, calmly wiping the ash off his stake and slipping it back inside his pants somewhere. “One of my many names.”
“Holy fuck.” I ran a hand through my hair. “They said you were just a busines
sman.” I gestured at nothing. “They said you used to be a badass, not that you still were.”
He crossed the room and smiled down at me. “They were wrong.”
“Clearly,” I said darkly, staring up at this strange man.
He was a killer. He was also an amazing lover who drove me crazy and did wicked, wicked things to my body. He could also be gentle, when he wanted to be.
My mind flashed back to him cupping my face while I’d held a stake over him. Now I’d seen what he could do, I knew he hadn’t been in any real danger with me. But I’d still threatened to kill him, and he’d treated me so gently.
Why?
He held out his hand to me. “We really should go. There might be more.”
Of course. I took his hand and let him help me to my feet. I glanced at the room around me. How was I going to explain this? How was I going to tell them that I hadn’t killed him?
Fuck.
“Clearly I’m not going to let you kill me,” he said, as if he knew what I’d been thinking.
“Clearly,” I said flatly.
“Is that going to get you into trouble?”
“What’s it to you?” I demanded.
Obviously, he wasn’t going to lay back down again and let me kill him, but that left me in a bind, and I found myself unreasonably irritated by that.
His hand shot out, wrapping around the back of my head and pulling me to him. Then his mouth crashed against mine.
God.
My lips parted for him, and his tongue plunged into me.
We kissed each other with wet, hungry mouths. Heat spiraled down me and I kissed him greedily, clutching his shoulders with my fingers and pressing my body into his.
God, I wanted him.
I’d just watched him kill three men. They’d wanted to kill him, so it had been in self-defense, but still.
What the hell was I doing clinging to him, moaning for him, hot and desperate for him?
Dammit.
He ended the kiss, his thumb stroking my jaw, while his hot grey eyes met mine.
“That’s what it is to me,” he said. “If you’re in trouble, I’ll get you out.”
My fingers wrapped around his wrist of their own accord. Really, what could it hurt, to accept his help?
“Can you get me home?” I asked.
“Where’s home?”
“The U.S.A,” I answered.
“Where in the U.S.?” Degarr asked.
“Anywhere.” I fought against the hope blossoming in my chest.
God, could this man really get me home?
“What’s the name on your passport?” he asked.
Clever, that, to ask for my passport name, instead of assuming the name I’d given him earlier was real, or daring to ask for my real one. I told him the name from the passport I had on me.
“Okay, listen carefully. I want you to run out of here, looking scared, and crying if possible. Race down the stairs and out the front door like you’re being chased. Don’t slow down when you get outside. Run a few streets over, then catch your breath and take a cab directly to the airport.” He held his watch between us, so we could both see the time. “In two hours, go to the Swansea Airlines ticket desk, and they’ll have a ticket waiting for you in that name.” He raised his hand, and cupped my jaw. “Can you do that?”
My heart thudded in my chest.
My eyes felt very wide.
“Yes,” I said. I couldn’t hold back my hope anymore, and it raced through my limbs. “Will the ticket really be there?”
He smiled.
“Yes,” he said softly. Then he brushed his lips against mine.
For a moment, the whole world faded away.
Then he let me go.
I turned and ran, just like he said, with fear on my face, and hope in my heart.
Chapter 6
Nadia – U.S.A.
John Degarr was a god.
Okay, he wasn’t really a god, but when my feet touched the shiny floor of an airport baggage claim in the U.S.A., I wanted to kiss the floor and then him.
Or in the reverse. Probably better in the reverse.
Not only was he a badass, with a blood kiss that gave me orgasms, but he was a true man of his word. John Degarr had gotten me home when no one else had.
And all he’d known about me was that I was pretty and I’d meant to kill him.
Jesus fucking Christ.
The first thing I did was gain control over my accounts again. As soon as I had that accomplished, I promptly closed them, and opened up new ones under a new name. Then I opened up additional accounts, under other names, and bought some prepaid credit cards. I stowed the prepaid cards and some reserve cash on me. From now on, I vowed, I would keep cash and prepaids cards with me at all times.
I was determined to never let something like Brazil happen to me again.
Ever.
Then I went back to the airport, got on another plane, and flew back to the city I’d lived in before my ill-fated trip. I went straight to the bland, boring apartment I’d left months ago. Fortunately, it still opened to my key. I’d had the foresight to pay the rent in advance for the rest of the year. That was one thing I’d gotten right.
I shut the door behind me, threw the bolt, and leaned against the wall, thanking every god I could think of for the gift of air conditioning.
A sharp trilling sound interrupted my thoughts. My smartphone, the one registered to this identity, was still on the kitchen counter, right where I’d left it.
I crossed the room and snatched it up.
“Nadia, welcome home.”
“No thanks to you,” I hissed.
He laughed. The bastard actually laughed. “We both knew you’d make it back.”
Really? Because I hadn’t.
“You shut off my access to my accounts, you prick.”
I would have asked him who he used to do that, but I knew he wouldn’t tell me, and in the end, it didn’t matter. They’d just been doing a job. It hadn’t been personal.
Oleg, on the other hand, hadn’t been doing a job. What he’d done had been very personal. And I’d been stupid. So stupid – in multiple ways – but most of all, I’d been stupid to ever trust him.
“It was a challenge. All in good fun,” he said.
Smarmy. He sounded smarmy. How had I not noticed this before?
“It wasn’t fun, Oleg. Not for me. And we are done, you piece of shit. Do you hear me? We are done,” I said.
“Nadia, it was a joke. You can’t be serious.”
“It wasn’t a joke to me. Never contact me again. In fact, come near me again and I’ll shoot your ass.” I hung up on him, putting an end to a working relationship that had lasted for years.
Did I care?
No.
Oleg had ended everything the day he’d left me penniless and alone in Brazil.
I took the sim card out of the phone, and ground it up with the garbage disposal. Then I grabbed the hammer out of the far drawer, slipped on my sunglasses and smashed the phone to bits.
It made me feel a tiny bit better.
I left everything on the counter, then gathered the few personal items I wanted and left the bland, beige apartment behind me for good.
Chapter 7
Nadia – Houston
One month later
I stood under the bright blue Houston sky and contemplated the mess my life had become. Six months ago I’d been a regular human being. Okay, I’d been someone who located items and persons for some shady fucking people, but I’d basically been a regular person.
Then Brazil happened, and my whole life had been fucked since then.
Not only had I had a very bad fucking time, and the second worst scare of my life, but I’d met Degarr there.
Degarr, who had seemed my savior by buying me a ticket back to my old life.
Degarr, who had fed on my blood. Who’d given me two orgasms, one right after sinking his fangs into me.
Degarr, of the passio
nate kisses, and the hard body, and the hot, soulful eyes.
Degarr.
Who I couldn’t get out of my fucking head.
Dammit.
I paced back and forth, holding my arms against my body.
I was routinely waking up in the middle of the night with his name on my lips and my body throbbing.
I couldn’t forget him.
I wanted him.
And I told myself I was crazy. We hadn’t even had a full night together. We hadn’t even fucked. He’d been good, wonderful, my very own miracle, but that was nothing to obsess over.
But I was. I was obsessed. That was the only way to describe what was happening to me. My body and mind ached with the need to find him, to see him again.
Surely I just needed to fuck him? Maybe that’s really the problem my mind and body were having; that I’d expected what he’d promised – round two – and without that, all of me was reacting like someone had stopped singing in the middle of a song.
I needed the song to finish, dammit.
That had to be the answer.
Now I just needed to find him.
I had a lot of secrets, but one in particular – my most important secret – helped me make my living. I wasn’t quite sure how it worked. All I knew was that when I wanted to find someone, that after I’d gotten the right combination of time and intel, then something inside of me would click. After that happened, I always found the person.
Sometimes it felt like something in my body pulsed or throbbed, deep inside me, and that was always an indication that I had a strong connection to the mark. It was also a sign that the lock inside of me would click open soon.
Now, with Degarr, it felt like that thing inside of me was throbbing. It felt bigger this time, like it had grown, and that feeling intensified after my plane touched down in Houston.
It’s why I was here.
I knew that Degarr was somewhere in this city. It sounded absolutely bug nuts, but that pulsing thing inside of me told me it was true.
