by Tina Folsom
“Do it now,” Samson instructed.
“Call you back in a few.”
Samson looked up from the phone and stared at Quinn. “Did you not realize he was leaving the house during the day? I thought you were keeping an eye on him.”
Quinn shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “You know yourself how stealthily he moves. Didn’t hear a thing. Not even that damn dog barked. When did you suspend him?”
“Around four this afternoon.”
“That’s probably what ticked him off.”
“Ticked him off? You don’t get it, Quinn. He was getting involved with his charge! That’s not only against Scanguards’ rules, it’s against her father’s—our client’s—orders. She’s a minor!”
“She’s twenty,” Oliver chimed in.
Samson lashed a glare as his once trusted assistant. “In our world that makes her a minor. God knows what he told her so she’d go with him.”
Quinn raised his hand. “Samson, it takes two to tango. From what I hear about this girl, she’s rather headstrong. I don’t see her being manipulated by Zane. I think she knows very well what she’s doing.”
“Zane is dangerous. He killed a man in cold blood only a few days ago. Have you already forgotten?”
Make that two, Quinn thought to himself and was instantly glad, that Samson had no idea about the assassin. He would keep it that way. “He had a reason. The guy was a rapist.”
“Zane should have let the authorities deal with him. Fuck, Quinn.” Samson raised his arm and pointed at the door. “Zane is out there with the girl. Do you have any idea what he’s going to do with her?”
Fuck her senseless, if he’d read Zane right when he’d seen the two together. Yet, Quinn kept his mouth shut. There were times when it was better not to answer a question, particularly when it was clearly rhetorical.
Samson’s cell rang. He answered it instantly, pressing the speaker button. “Yes?”
“The GPS on his Hummer is disabled, and I can’t get a location from his cell either. We’re blind.”
“Shit! Call Gabriel and have him reach out to all our vampire contacts in Northern California. Get them a picture of Zane as well as the Hummer’s license plate. Nobody is to approach him. Just get me his location.”
“I’m on it.” Thomas clicked off.
“Oliver, you’re going over to Lauren’s house. I’ll notify the mayor to expect you. Interrogate her and check her cell phone to see if she’s had any contact with Portia in the last few hours: calls, text messages, voicemails. Check her email account too.”
Oliver nodded dutifully. “I know she spoke to Lauren only a few minutes before …” Suddenly he scratched his head. “Ah, shit, that was probably Zane calling her. I thought the conversation sounded a little stilted, but …”
Quinn cupped Oliver’s elbow, reminding him silently not to volunteer any information like they’d discussed. He’d only get himself in trouble if he did. Samson was mad enough, and with good reason. If they didn’t find Portia soon, they’d have to decide what to tell her father. It was a conversation nobody looked forward to.
“Talk to Lauren now. We need to know what she knows.”
“Yes, Samson.” Oliver turned to the door and left.
“Quinn, this wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Quinn nodded and took a deep breath. “He won’t hurt her.”
Samson shook his head. “You don’t know the whole story. He came to speak to me last night. Claimed that Portia’s father is deliberately keeping her a virgin even though her twenty-first birthday is in five weeks. Apparently she told him all that.”
“Is it true?”
“I don’t believe so. Her father warned us ahead of time that it’s one of the stories she uses to gain sympathy. She’s lying to him.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“Of course I did. I showed him the file. But I don’t think he was convinced.”
“How could he?” Quinn murmured under his breath.
“What?” Suspicion flared in Samson’s eyes.
“I’m saying knowing Zane, he won’t believe it just because it’s written in a file. You know him: he’ll investigate himself to find the truth.”
His mind went back to the night before when he’d seen them together. Their interactions had indicated that while there was clearly something between them, they hadn’t been intimate yet—despite the fact that Portia had been in Zane’s bed.
“That’s exactly what I can’t have him do. In either case it would be wrong: if she’s not a virgin, he’ll be furious about being duped by her, and who knows what he’ll do then.”
Quinn raised an eyebrow. “And if she is a virgin?”
Samson blinked. “If her father is really intent on keeping her a virgin until her final turning, he’ll kill Zane for robbing her of her virginity.”
“If he finds him,” Quinn added.
“We have to find him first and stop him before he does something that can’t be reversed.”
Quinn gave his boss a long look, wondering whether to ask his next question or keep his mouth shut. This time though his sense of justice won out. “What about the girl?”
“What about her?”
“If she’s really a virgin, we can’t allow her father to prevent her from losing her virginity before she turns twenty-one.” His own conscience wouldn’t allow him to stand idly by and do nothing, when somebody was clearly doing the girl wrong.
“I know that, and it’s bothered me all day. I just hope for all our sakes that she lied to Zane. Because fighting her father on this issue is not a fight I look forward to.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Zane pulled into the garage underneath his mountain cabin and brought the car to a complete stop, the chains he’d put on the wheels before reaching the mountains clacking loudly against the concrete floor. The moment he killed the engine, Portia stirred and opened her eyes. She’d nodded off only a half hour earlier with Z curled into a ball at her feet. The picture was so utterly unfamiliar, yet it warmed his heart.
“Are we there?” Her eyes darted around the garage then back to him.
“I’ll get the bags. Why don’t you and Z go in already?”
Portia opened the door, and Z jumped out, excitedly sniffing his surroundings.
“I can’t believe you have a cabin in Tahoe!”
Zane rounded the Hummer, Portia’s backpack in hand, and opened the trunk. For emergencies, he always kept a bag in his car that was stocked with everything he needed for a few nights.
“It’s not big, but it’s all I need. I always come here alone.” He stopped himself.
This was his sanctuary. He’d never brought a woman here. Not even his friends and colleagues at Scanguards knew about this place. He’d even made sure not to ask for Amaury’s real estate expertise when he’d purchased the house, wanting this to be his own little getaway that nobody knew about.
Zane grabbed his bag and shut the trunk. Portia was still waiting next to the passenger door for him. Their eyes met.
“I don’t need much space,” she whispered and licked her lower lip. “We only need one bed. As long as you have that …”
Her cheeks colored a pretty pink. Zane dropped the bags and crossed the distance between them with two large strides, stopping only inches from her. “Go inside now, Portia, and do me a favor: don’t mention words like ‘bed’ until we’re inside the house or your first time will happen right here in this garage with your back against the car.”
He kept all menace out of his voice, but he couldn’t suppress the lust that coursed through him. It made him sound hoarse. During the entire drive he’d fought with himself, fought against the need to stop the car and pull her onto the back seat to take her right there and then. Because now that he’d made up his mind to make love to Portia, he couldn’t wait a minute longer.
Her lashes crashed against her eyelids as she raised them in one smooth move. “Don’t make me wait.” Then she tur
ned and ushered the dog through the door to the interior.
Wait? That word had just been expelled from his vocabulary and been replaced by the only possible replacement: now. Zane’s heart beat a violent staccato against his ribcage, and his cock, which had been semi-hard during the entire ride, surged to a full erection.
Picking up the bags once more, he charged after her. Inside, he dropped the luggage onto the floor and straightened. As always, a sense of tranquility poured over him when he entered the great room of his cabin. The vaulted ceiling and its wooden beams added an air of space to the small house, belying its size of less than a thousand square feet. The décor was rustic and not something he’d first thought he’d like, but it had grown on him.
“There’s a fire in the fireplace,” Portia noted, her voice tinged with a sliver of alarm. “Is somebody living here?”
Zane shook his head. “I texted my caretaker before I picked you up to prepare the place for us. Check the fridge. It should be stocked with human food for you.” He would have to go out hunting for blood later, unless … He quickly pushed away the thought before it could form in his mind. One thing at a time: first sex, then maybe later he could—
“The fridge is chock-full with food. Who does your caretaker think I am? A three hundred pound gorilla?” She laughed and turned to him, her hair falling in her face.
“I didn’t know what you liked, so I had him get a bit of everything.”
It was so much easier with blood. There were only eight varietals, four positive and four negative. And he liked them all.
“That’s sweet of you.”
Sweet? Nobody had ever said that anything he’d ever done was sweet. Slowly, but with purpose Zane walked toward her and noticed how she stood completely motionless with only her eyes moving as he approached. He stopped a foot away from her and reached for the strand of hair that had caught on her cheek, brushing it away from her face.
“Don’t make the mistake of seeing me for something that I’m not. I don’t have a sweet or gentle bone in my body, and if that’s what you’re looking for, I should take you back now.”
As soon as the words were out, he knew that if she wanted to leave, he couldn’t allow it. She was in his secret lair, and the only way she would leave this place was as a real woman, her virginity a memory.
Portia raised her hand and slid it to the back of his neck, shaking her head as if to reprimand him. “Don’t even think about it.”
He liked that about her: she never backed down from a challenge.
“You could have chosen anybody you wanted. Why me, baby girl?”
Did she not know how desirable she was, that any man with eyes in his head would see the passionate woman that was ready to burst to the surface?
She leaned closer, her mouth hovering opposite his. “Because when you kiss me, I feel something.”
With her free hand, she took his and led it to her chest where her heart beat in a rapid rhythm.
“Here.” She pressed his hand against her heart, then pushed it lower past the waistband of her jeans before he could enjoy the softness of her flesh. But she rewarded him by guiding his hand to cup her sex.
Raising her lids, Portia gazed into his eyes. “And here.”
Warmth radiated into his palm as he pressed against her pussy, any closer contact impeded by the thick fabric of her pants. Nevertheless, his cock rejoiced.
He groaned, unable to hold back the lust that barreled through him. “Since we’re honest here,” he husked and drank in the green of her eyes, “I think you should know where I feel something when you kiss me.”
Zane took her hand and guided it to his cock, letting her glide it over his entire length and feel the hardness that dug into his zipper. “Here.”
She squeezed his shaft, making him clench his jaw to fight off his imminent release.
“Woof, woof!”
Z’s barking made him shift his attention away from Portia and her tempting hands.
“That’s really bad timing, Z.”
Portia dropped her hands from him and turned toward the dog. “I think he needs to go outside.”
Zane frowned, but knowing what kind of mess his dog could make, he realized there was no way around this. “I’ll take him. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable in the meantime? I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
Or maybe in five: for sure the little pup had never experienced snow. The mountain was covered with a fresh snow pack, and the temperature, now that it was dark, was below freezing. He bet that Z would be freezing his ass off in three minutes tops and wanting to return to the warmth in front of the fireplace.
***
Portia’s eyes followed Zane as he escorted the dog out into the snowy wilderness. Darn, that man filled out a pair of jeans just the right way despite his lean body. His muscles shifted with every step, and she wondered what it would feel like when they were finally both naked, his skin sliding against hers.
When he drew the door shut behind him, she stopped holding her breath. She’d better use the time he was gone. There had been no time to change into fresh clothes, even less to take a shower. Considering what they were planning tonight, she felt the need to groom herself, not just to be ready for him, but also to boost her self-confidence. She’d never touched a man as intimately as she’d already touched Zane today, and she hoped that instinct would guide her so she wouldn’t turn out to be a klutz in bed.
In the bedroom, Portia quickly shimmied out of her jeans and sweater, then tossed her socks, panties and bra on a chair. Realizing how uninspiring her underwear looked, she picked it up again and chucked it under the bed. No need for him to see what cringe-worthy panties she wore. It would only serve to turn him off, not on.
A look at the king-sized bed with its decidedly masculine dark striped cover made her shiver despite the welcoming warmth in the small house. In a short while, they would lie in each other’s arms there, naked, wrapped only in their own passion and desire.
Not wasting any more time, Portia hurried into the en-suite bathroom and stepped into the large shower. Soft pebbles caressed the soles of her feet, the same smooth stones that also graced the shower walls. The warm spray of the water ran down her body as soon as she turned the faucet.
She reached for the soap and lathered her skin. When she inhaled, she realized that the soap was unscented. It surprised her, particularly because the scent that Zane gave off was so intensely masculine that she’d thought it came from a scented soap he used. But it appeared that the scent she felt so drawn to was all him. She should have guessed as much. A vampire like Zane, whose raw power and energy constantly bubbled to the surface, would carry such a potent smell.
Portia didn’t bother washing her hair. It would take too long to dry, and considering that Zane was entirely bald, she bet he didn’t have a hairdryer. She quickly rinsed her body clean of the soap and stepped onto the soft rug in front of the shower, reaching for the towel that hung on a wall rack.
“When I said ‘make yourself comfortable’, I didn’t realize I’d be missing something important.”
Her head snapped toward the door, where Zane filled the frame.
Reflexively, she pressed the towel to her front, covering her nakedness, at the same time as a gasp escaped her.
His eyes darkened and honed in on the towel. “You won’t need that.”
Hesitantly, she lowered her hands, pushing the towel down past her nipples, which were suddenly hard and erect, and exposed to his hungry gaze.
Zane’s nostril’s flared, and his body moved. With two steps, he reached her and clasped his hand over hers. She relinquished the towel to his control. It dropped to the floor a second later.
Zane’s shirt brushed against her breasts as he drew her against his body. “I could have watched you shower if that damn dog wasn’t so inexplicably fond of snow.”
She raised her lashes and lost herself in the golden flecks of his eyes. “Or you could have helped me.”
With a g
roan, he sank his lips onto her mouth and captured her. Her lips parted on his demand, welcoming his forceful invasion. Pure and unadulterated lust careened through her veins instead of the blood that normally ran there. Her pulse quickened to a pace faster than any human dance when Zane’s tongue stroked against hers in a relentless assault, asking for her surrender.
Instinct guided her responses. Portia greeted his masculine taste with a feral growl of her own, sending him an unmistakable signal that if he wanted surrender, she demanded the same from him.
Without giving her reprieve from his searching tongue and pressing lips, his hands slid around her back and down to her behind where he filled his palms with her flesh. In the next instant he hauled her toward him, his cock as hard as before with only his cold jeans as a barrier between them. A barrier she wanted gone.
She tugged on his shirt, pulling it out of his pants, and fumbled with the buttons. But she was shaking so much with the need that he’d awakened in her that her fingers didn’t find purchase.
Zane moaned, and the rumble sank deep into her core, heading straight for her womb, where it crashed against the waves that her body created. When he ripped his mouth from hers, she wanted to scream, to protest, but before she could, his lips connected with the sensitive skin of her neck, as she obligingly offered it to him.
A wave of white hot heat skated over where his firm lips suckled her damp skin, evaporating the remaining pearls of water from her shower.
“Zane,” she murmured, not knowing really what she was asking for, but certain that whatever it was, she wanted it. Wanted him.
“Easy, baby girl,” his husky voice breathed against her neck as his lips nibbled toward her earlobe and sucked the soft piece of flesh between them.
A painless bite stole her breath, making her breasts heave and brush against the cotton of his shirt, reminding her once more that he was still fully clothed. But she needed to touch him. Without thinking, hands curled into fists gripping the lapels of his shirt. One forceful rip, and all buttons went flying.
Finally, there was skin she could touch: warm, smooth skin. Hairless, just like his skull. Her fingers glided over his chest, where sinew and lean muscle flexed, and where his heart beat violently.
