“Since Eddy dropped his mouth back there, I hoped you might help us.”
“Help?”
“Yeah, he believes witches are on this campground. Have you noticed anyone strange?”
Perhaps she wouldn’t stand trial after all. “Witches? Are you serious?”
“This may sound crazy, but if you see anyone chanting and lighting candles, inform Eddy or myself. Can you help us out by making friends with the new people, see if you discover anything?”
“Wow. You are serious.” With any luck, the anxiousness in her voice convinced him her state of bewilderment was due to the discovery of witches…not fearful of being caught.
Strands of dark hair fell in front of his eyes. “But, can we trust you?”
This one chance to impress him, to build something between them. It might blow up in her face, but wasn’t he worth the risk? “You can trust me.”
He raised his hand in a fist-bump. She flinched at the dark mark on the inside of his wrist. A tattoo. Not just any, but a half moon. Her muscles jolted beneath her flesh, and she controlled the reaction with a fake smile.
Jeff was a werewolf.
Every lesson ever taught on vampires and werewolves came back to kick her in the butt. Damn her for not paying attention when her mother and aunt talked about the other species. Her cousins were honor students at that stuff, whereas Rachel had been more interested in what color to paint her nails. An above average tutee when it came to practical work like witchcraft, but as for the history and traits of the species…boring. Now she wanted to understand every single thing about his kind.
The family spell book. Didn’t a page supply detailed information about werewolves?
Raised brows snapped her out of her puzzlement.
“You may be the first person to leave me hanging,” he said as he lowered his fist.
“S-Sorry,” she stammered, releasing hidden hands from behind her back. “I’d pound you, but I spilled my drink. My hands are sticky.”
The change from frown to smirk was instantaneous. “You’d pound me?”
A flush of heat infused her cheeks. “Your fist! I meant I’d pound your fist…oh, you know what I mean.”
His chuckle indented his face with irresistible dimples.
“Yeah…” Rachel thumbed in the direction behind her. “So, I’m going now.” With a final wave, she marched off.
“Rachel.”
She peered over her shoulder, and he pointed to the first cabin.
“That one’s mine. Meet me here after my race tomorrow.”
“Sure.” Thank goodness she played it cool in front of him. Inside, she squealed.
“Rachel.” The distant sound of his voice coaxed her awake.
Ian sat close beside her. Once again with a bunch of tissues to her nose. He shook his head. “Why does this keep happening?”
Her head jerked back. Cinnamon eyes stared, awaiting an answer. Her heart stopped, then restarted with a thunderous hammer. His face. From the color of his eyes, skin and hair, to the shape of his jawline…identical. Impossible.
“It’s you,” she whispered, almost choking on the words. With shaky fingers, she brushed the rough stubble along his jaw.
Ian was Jeff?
“Who else would it be? I think the bleeding stopped.” He dabbed above her lip.
Her stomach pitched in her throat. She took the tissues from his grip, but couldn’t stop studying him.
“Are you okay?”
Heat drained from her face and she swallowed, staring into those familiar eyes. Emotions of love and joy flooded out in a rush as though locked away for far too long and now surfaced. Jeff, here, in front of her. She wanted to cry and laugh. Never again would she be alone. Shaky hands snaked around his neck. His awed gaze lowered to her mouth as she drew him closer and meshed their lips together.
Rachel deepened the kiss when he groaned in response. Half expecting him to flinch or recoil, instead his tongue ran across her lip. More, she needed much more. Strong hands encircled her hips and scooted forward. She took the hint and straddled him. Labored breaths echoed in her ears as she trailed kisses from his mouth to the crook of his neck.
Lemon and spearmint invaded her senses, the rich flavor seeped inside her pores. Her eyes fluttered close. Nose against his skin, her mouth watered at the rusty essences through his veins. Her gums ached, and she licked her lips.
No, she mentally shouted. Forehead pressed into his shoulder.
He panted. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she whispered. “Not a thing.”
Ignoring the urge to bite him, she kissed him. He’d stop their little romp if he discovered the ideas that played through her mind. She refused to stop.
Ian rocked into her. Her bones jumped at the delicious friction. A moan extracted from her. Nails dug into his shoulders. Wanting out of the clothes and feeding off each other’s naked embrace, she lifted her arms as he removed her shirt overhead as if reading her mind.
“Vampires shouldn’t be this damn irresistible.” Breasts cupped in rough hands, he squeezed the sensitive flesh, thumbs abrading her nipples. Mindless with desire, she shuddered in pleasure. She slid a hand beneath the briefs, curled her fingers around his hot, thick length, and thumbed the bead of moisture. Incoherent words surged past his lips before his mouth crashed against hers, desperate and hard.
“I want you so much.” The words sang from her in whispered bliss.
His fervent kiss consumed and deluded her. He grasped her ass and flipped them. With a nudge of his hips, his hardness rocked into her. He groaned as though savoring the contact before sinking to his knees. Off the sofa, nestled between her thighs, he descended open-mouthed kisses down her neck. His tongue trailed between her breasts and over her stomach.
Long fingers eased beneath the denims. She nibbled her bottom lip. The pad of his thick fingers stroked in one, long sweep from her opening to the small bundle of nerves. Rachel jolted where she lay. The sensation had her crying out. So good….
Someone knocked on the door.
They froze.
What a compromising position. Bare breasts rose and fell. Ian’s hand cupped between her legs, his pants open at the waist, jeans tented by what appeared to be one painful erection.
Oh hell, she didn’t want to stop.
The wild, lustful look in his eyes replaced with ire. “They’re here,” he groaned, removing his hand. If her vagina could cry in protest, it would have.
Off of the sofa as fast as a rocket, she gathered the discarded polo shirt and donned the warm material. “Who?”
Even with his dark skin, his cheeks scorched. Was his obvious embarrassment due to what they almost did, or how close they were to being caught? Did he regret it?
“My friends,” he answered, then stood and adjusted himself in his jeans.
Were they here to drop off more blood bags?
Ian headed for the door. Two choices. Either face these people with cheeks still hot from arousal or dash and hide. She sprinted down the hall, then shut herself in the bathroom. By the window, she yanked down the blanket and leaned her forehead against the glass. The coolness helped ease the oncoming headache.
What the hell happened out there? She’d wanted him with a fire in her belly which still burned bright. Every part of her ached for his lips, his fingers, his cock. Did being a vampire heighten her sex drive or just Ian? All of her memories accompanied these strange nosebleeds. This time was different. No headache or flash of lights occurred before the flashback. The bigger question, though, how had she confused Ian with a crush from her teenage years? Jeff indeed resembled a younger version of Ian. If they were the same person, wouldn’t he recognise her? Could Ian—being the main person she’d interacted with after escaping the coffin—be the reason she confused him with a face from the past? Either that, or she had to be losing it.
Someone knocked on the bathroom door, and she poked her head out. “Are your friends gone?”
“They wa
nt to meet you.” Face impenetrable, he extended his hand.
She stared at his open palm. Was she a freak creature they wanted to stare and poke at? Then again, these friends were members of his pack. Perhaps werewolves didn’t get the chance to see a vampire often and were simply curious. With a soft sigh, she placed her hand in his and headed down the hall.
Inside the living room, a small crowd huddled in a circle. A blonde woman in an opulent black gown looked as if she stepped out of the nineteen hundreds, surrounded by men also dressed in medieval attire. Another woman with strawberry-blonde hair dressed in a purple sweatsuit laughed and hugged the lady in black. The two were complete opposites.
The blonde in black patted the other woman’s rounded belly, eyes and smile bright. The one in purple covered Blondie’s hands with her own, beaming a huge smile. For some reason their joy pierced Rachel’s heart, as if she were missing out. And she was. Out there she had family, a cousin, and a sister, but had no idea where to find them.
The women in black peered around a tall man and met Rachel’s gaze. Her face paled, gray eyes widening. The other woman also glanced at Rachel and gasped aloud, cupping her mouth with trembling hands.
“Rachel!” they exclaimed in unison.
Her posture went rigid as she observed the strangers, lips parted on a quivering breath. They recognised her, but from where? Yes. Her first flashback were of two angry women. It was them.
The four men turned. Rachel searched their faces for anyone recognisable. She stifled a scream. Cropped blonde hair and the most alluring green eyes. The killer.
Killer cocked a brow. “How is she alive?”
Rachel choked back a sob and released Ian’s hand. Barbed wire twisted in her gut. Now everything made sense. They were all against her. As for the women, they had to be in partnership with the vampire.
She turned to Ian. From the beginning, he knew her identity and tricked her. She should have listened to her gut. He did work for someone…her damn killer. Rage combusted through her, tingled up her palms. Unable to ignore the instinct, she slapped him. Head whisked to one side, he released a groan.
“You hate me that much, you’d hand me over to the man who killed me,” she cried, finger thrust at the blond vampire. A heaviness hit the pit of her stomach. Each exhale puffed out with a slow burn.
Could that be desolation in Ian’s eyes? No, she refused to be fooled again.
“Wait,” one of the women called out when she sprinted into the hallway, escape her only option. The cooler box sat beneath the bathroom sink and she snatched it. What she’d give to vanish from their sight.
It’s simple. I close my eyes, focus on a destination and then I’m there.
She bit her lip. What if she too now possessed the ability? Both hands clutched the box. She shut her eyes and pictured the one place she remembered. A frozen wet rush surged inside as her body broke into diminutive pieces.
Curious, she cracked open an eyelid. Ian entered the threshold at the end of the hall, face stark, jaw almost hitting the floor. Then darkness engulfed her. She faded into the air like mist.
Chapter 7
Ian grew light-headed at the sight before him. Daggers shot from Rachel’s teary gaze. His chest ached. She resembled sand through an hourglass as she broke into minuscule particles and faded from sight. He ran to the spot where she had stood, heart pumping vigorously as he stared at the navy sky through the window. Wisps of clouds drifted over the half moon. Where the hell did she go?
Amber’s sobs echoed down the hall as she rushed into the room. The others soon followed. Why was Amber so upset? Why had both women screamed Rachel’s name?
“Where is she?”
Ian swallowed with increased difficulty. “She vanished.”
Chayton had once explained how a vampire teleported him to France the same way. Had Rachel always known about the ability? He doubted it, otherwise she’d have disappeared on the morning they met. No, this had to have been a recent discovery.
Brianna Johnson shuffled in front of them. Trembles shook her chin, gray eyes filled with question, and her big dress dragged behind. “Vanished, as in flashing? What the hell is going on?”
Ian recognised her from the missing person pictures a few months ago. Brianna had been abducted by her moitié, Tristan. Chayton had been out of the country during the time and had sent him as his damn sniffer dog to track down Amber since she’d put up the posters. Chayton had wanted to know where he could deliver the letter Tristan wrote to reassure Amber of her cousin’s safety. All that drama was for nothing since Tristan and Brianna were happily together now.
“Ma chérie, remain calm.” The vampire in ancient attire hurried to her side and cuddled the shaken blonde. That had to be Tristan. “I’m guessing Rachel is the vampire we’re here to collect.”
Another bloodsucker, this one a shorter version of Tristan, but with longer hair, waved his hand around the room. “There’s no one to collect now, brother. She’s long gone.”
“Yes, Julian, I am aware of that.”
“We have no chance of finding her now,” a third vampire with dark hair said.
“What do you suggest we do, Mikel?” The one named Julian mocked.
Chayton hugged a tearful Amber, whispering for her to stay calm for the baby’s sake.
Brianna smothered a cry with her palm. “Oh, my poor sister. Why was she so afraid of us?”
Sister? Ian shuffled back a step. Amber and Brianna were Rachel’s family?
Ian stared at the women in the arms of their men. Earlier at the cemetery Rachel had sought his embrace. He had wanted so bad to remove the heartbreak from her hazel depths, but she’d brushed him off. Could he blame her? He’d been cruel and unfair, allowed hatred and fury from the past to steal his judgement. No matter how hungry she became, she never attacked him again. She’d been horrified at her own actions after the rabbit. He stroked his painful cheek. Oh, how I misjudged her.
Rachel’s voice screamed in his mind. You hate me that much, you’d hand me over to the man who killed me. She had pointed at…
Eyes locked on the blond vampire, he stomped forward, clasped Tristan by the collar and dragged him off his feet. Gasps and threats broke out as Ian’s grip tightened.
“Unhand him,” Brianna screamed, fingers trembling over her mouth.
His hold tightened and twisted. “Why did Rachel say you killed her?”
Pale hands covered his darker, strained ones as Tristan struggled to respond. A part of him couldn’t care less for the answer and wanted to strangle the parasite. If these leeches had never entered his home, she’d still be here. Safe, fed, unable to harm anyone. Regardless of what he accused her of, he’d seen the look in Rachel’s eyes. Hurting someone terrified her more than the sun. Ian growled low. All his fault. He invited them to come whisk her away.
Loud voices broke through his thoughts, begged him to release Tristan.
“He never touched Rachel. It was his twin, Maurice.” Brianna pounded his shoulder.
Ian glanced at Chayton who gave a terse nod, then loosened his grip.
“It’s true,” his best friend said. “Maurice escaped the rehab facility on the night of the Armistice Celebration and killed Amber’s cousin, Brianna’s sister, Rachel.”
He released Tristan and turned to Amber. “The addict you mentioned earlier?” He then pointed at Tristan. “What type of facility are you running if these monsters can escape?”
The one named Mikel stepped forward, his face a hard-set scowl. “He’s been recaptured. From what Amber told us over the phone, a woman needed to be placed in the facility. None of us expected Brianna’s sister. She’s been deceased for months.”
Poor Rachel, killed by a vampire. Ian swivelled away from his guests and blinked back the burn in his eyes. He knew all too well the horror of a vampire attack. Lucky for him, he escaped, but Rachel hadn’t. As for them acting like frisky teenagers earlier, he didn’t know what to make of it. He wasn’t promised to anyone. His s
oul might be forever tied to a dead bond, but his body remained free. Even so, what almost occurred on the sofa would have been a hot quickie, a long overdue itch needing to be scratched.
Ian never considered himself a shameless man-whore. Unlike some men who played the field, taking advantage of Rachel for his own personal pleasure wasn’t his game. He had too much respect for women to use and dump as he pleased. “So, is Rachel still a witch?”
Tristan cocked a brow. “Her scent is strange. I can detect vampire, but it’s so faint, I’m not sure. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever encountered.”
“We went to her funeral.” Amber’s words were a bitter whisper. “We should check Rachel’s resting place. What if this woman is not Rachel, but someone who looks like her?”
Brianna gasped aloud, drawing attention. “I received a call yesterday from the cemetery, saying Rachel’s body was missing. I thought it was a sick prank from a bunch of teenagers and hung up.”
“You didn’t call back the cemetery to confirm, or the police?” Amber questioned.
Brianna cringed. “No. Like I said, I assumed it was a prank. I’m such an idiot, I should have checked.”
“She escaped the coffin,” Ian cut in.
Both women whirled to face him.
“What do you mean?”
“The morning I brought her here, she admitted waking in a coffin at Lynnhurst Cemetery and smashed her way out. I imagine you ladies have a hundred questions, but I can’t waste another minute. I’ve got to find her before she hurts herself or someone else.”
Tristan turned to his little group. “Julian, you flash west. Mikel, you go east. I’ll try south.” Tristan planted a quick kiss on Brianna’s head. “I will find her for you.”
“No, don’t.” Brianna clutched Tristan’s arm.
Ian’s muscles relaxed, the sensation overrode the burn in his limbs. What a disastrous idea. Tristan and his brothers chasing after Rachel… His vision clouded. If Brianna hadn’t stopped the ridiculous plan, Ian sure would have.
“Why not, ma chérie?”
“You saw the way she looked at you, she thinks you’re Maurice. Rachel is frightened of you, of all of us. If you find her, you’ll scare her away again.”
Buried Passion Page 9
