When he dropped his mouth to kiss her cheek once again, she startled him by turning her head and skimming her lips against his. Their breaths mingled as he held still, waiting for her to take more. When she didn’t move, he pressed his mouth against hers.
His fangs descended all the way. Fuck! He needed to get himself under control. “Until tomorrow,” he said, pulling back, making sure he didn’t let her see his teeth.
Her eyelids fluttered open, and a soft, sensual smile curved her lips. She nodded but didn’t move away.
He smiled, carefully keeping his lips together, and then put his arm around her shoulders and led her to the entry. “Six-thirty,” he said as he pulled the door open for her.
She nodded, her eyes languid with lust. “Okay.” She stepped out into the sunlight and walked away.
Dante closed the door and locked it. He went to his office and collapsed into his chair, dropping his head back against the padded leather. His breathing came heavy, and his hard-on strained against his slacks. Running his tongue over the needle sharp points of his fangs, he willed his body into submission.
He had to have better control tomorrow night. He needed Wendy to fall for him before he revealed the monster within. And then he’d pray she could look past it to the man she loved.
—
Wendy made it a block and a half before her knees turned to jelly, and she slouched down on a chair by a table of an outdoor café. If she thought she’d been in bad shape Friday night after he said goodbye... Her breasts ached, her nipples were as hard as marble, and between her legs she was hot, slick, and throbbing.
She couldn’t believe she’d found the guts to turn into the kiss, to make the move that brought their lips together. But she had, and she was proud of herself. A giggle slipped out of her, and she clamped her hand over her mouth, hoping no one heard. She’d made the first move!
Oh, God... Tomorrow night. She lifted her hand and read the card. It was the same type of card he’d given her the other night, but when she turned it over, she saw his address and phone number. Oh, wow. He lived in Queen Anne. Those houses up there cost a fortune. He really was rich.
His handwriting was a beautiful flourish. She’d only seen handwriting like that in books—the type of script that was once taught in schools more than a hundred years ago.
“What can I get ya?” A bubblegum-chewing waitress in her early twenties asked.
“Uhm...” Where the hell was she? She glanced at the window of the shop. It was a deli and coffee house. “Turkey on whole wheat, no mayo, lots of Dijon. And a grand latte in a to-go cup.”
The waitress nodded, snapped her gum, and walked off.
Good Lord. She was going to have supper with Dante tomorrow night. Adrenaline spiked through her veins as her excitement soared. Would he kiss her for real then? Would he do more than kiss her?
Stop it. Still none of this made sense. That man could have any woman—absolutely any woman in the world—he wanted. Why the hell was he interested in her?
And just how old was he? He looked so young. No gray in his hair, only the tiniest of laugh lines around his eyes. He’d never answered her question, instead turning it on her and asking if money and age meant anything to her.
And then he’d told her he wanted to worship her body with his.
Spikes of heat shot through her, and she squeezed her thighs together as her clit throbbed and she grew damp. Maybe she was old enough to have herself a boy-toy fling. Lord knew, if he was even a fraction as good in bed as he was out, she’d never had better. She grinned and stared out at the cars on the avenue. Yeah. Maybe it was time to gain that newfound courage. After his roommate left for work tomorrow night...
“Here’s your coffee.” The waitress blew a bubble with her pink gum. “Sandwich’ll be out in a few.”
She nodded and lifted the insulated cup to her lips.
Hot sex with a young stud. She’d have to stop off at the drugstore on the way home tonight and pick up some condoms. She wasn’t about to show up unprepared for whatever might happen.
Chapter Five
Digger weaved in and out of traffic as they crossed Lake Washington, heading to Bellevue where Gaston lived.
“I need you at the house tomorrow evening,” Dante said, gripping the door handle in a white-knuckled fist. Digger’s driving scared the hell out of him.
“Sure thing.”
He glanced at Digger, afraid to take his eyes off traffic for too long. “You’re not going to ask why?”
Digger shrugged. “If ya need me, ya know I’m there.”
This was why they’d lived together so long. They were brothers. Dante smiled then squeezed his eyes closed, waiting for the impact, as Digger braked hard and swerved to miss a pickup truck.
Digger chuckled as he hit the accelerator. “Breathe, mate.”
They rode in silence until Digger pulled up to the gate outside Gaston’s estate. “Yer not gonna tell me?”
Dante grinned. He knew his friend would want a reason eventually. “I need a chaperone.”
The gate swung open, and they drove up the curved, oak-lined driveway.
“A chaperone, eh? What are ya plannin’?”
“I have a date, and she’s skittish. I promised her my roommate would be there so she would feel less intimidated to come to the house.”
Digger stopped behind a short line of cars and killed the engine of his Corvette. He was silent for a few moments, staring out the windshield, tapping his finger on the steering wheel. When he turned to Dante, his brow was furrowed. “Ya shouldna be datin’ right now, mate. Not with this bullshit goin’ on.”
He knew that. But...
“I know it’s been a long time for ya, and if ya found a willin’ woman, I’m all for it. But are ya puttin’ someone in danger?”
He’d tried pushing the guilt aside all afternoon. He couldn’t take the chance of losing her, of her changing her mind about seeing him. On the other hand, he did worry about asking a woman into his world if the sect was in danger. “She will be safe with us at our house.”
“Who is she? I didna know you were seein’ anyone.”
“We just met the other night. Do you remember the woman who ran into me on the sidewalk near The Starlight?”
Digger frowned. “The chunky little redhead?”
“She is not chunky,” he gritted out between his teeth.
His friend’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “She is chunky, mate, but if that’s what gets ya goin’...”
He blew out a breath. “After I left the club, I came across her in a café. We had a nice conversation, and I gave her my business card. She came into the shop today. I asked her over for dinner tomorrow night.”
Digger shook his head and sighed. “Well, mate, ya know I’m there for ya, even if I donna think it’s a good idea.”
“Two murders don’t prove anything. It’s not as if half of the rest of the Seattle sect doesn’t have human lovers. You do, and I can’t imagine you keeping away from Jesse until this is settled. We might all be overreacting about this entire situation, anyway.”
“Ah, she knows what ya are, then. That’s good.”
The little Irishman was goading him, but he wasn’t going to fall for it. He pushed his door open.
“So, she doesn’t? Hmm. Interestin’.”
“Look, Dig.” He stopped halfway up the wide steps to the front door of the mansion and faced his friend. “She’s special. Very special. Understand?”
The teasing left Digger’s face, and he nodded. “Understood.”
Dante headed up the stairs.
“Be careful with her. Ya remember what happened with Mary.”
A white-haired human in a black suit opened the door to them before they rang the bell.
“No one needs to remind me. But aren’t we allowed love, too?”
“Right this way, please,” the butler said and held out his hand, pointing toward Gaston’s library.
“If ya found a woman who can love y
a as ya are. Don’t try to be what ya aren’t for her, though. You know that willna work.”
Dante would give anything to be exactly what Wendy needed him to be. His only hope was that she could accept him as he was. Eventually. After he convinced her she could love him.
They walked through the open door of Gaston’s spacious library. Several other vampires were there, all men he knew except one—a light-haired man with the strong, Nordic features of a Norwegian.
“Welcome, brothers,” Gaston said. His expression was grave as he stood in front of a wide, cherry wood desk.
He and Digger shook his hand then made the rounds of greeting the other four men they knew. Zebulon Brooks, Thomas Jones, Carlson Everson, and Xavier Worthington. The oldest of the sect, their ages ranged between three and five hundred years old. All strong supporters of Gaston.
“And this is Evan Fredrick,” Gaston said, introducing the tall, lean stranger among them. “He moved here two years ago from the Tacoma sect and is under my employ as a guard for...” A sly little smile curved his lips. “...the ladies.”
Gaston’s harem. Dante wondered what the number was up to now.
“Please, have a seat, gentlemen. Let us get on with this meeting.”
They settled into the leather furniture in front of Gaston’s desk. Evan sat off to the side, facing the rest of the group. He seemed to be examining each of them, and Dante thought he was probably very good at his job. Gaston’s harem, at least the last time he’d seen them, consisted of both human and vampire females—a few to feed from, a few purely for entertainment.
Gaston leaned back against the desk and crossed his ankles. “I’ve called you here because you are the oldest of the sect. Most of you have lived through, and fought against, those who have sought our extermination in the past.”
Each of them nodded.
“Something I did not bring up at the meeting last night is that Justin and Bartholomew came to see me last week. They’d heard rumors of unrest among the younger of our sect. Unhappiness in the fact that we are not as organized as our brothers to the south. There was word of a vampire clan meeting being organized, though they had no solid details.
“I do not find it a coincidence that the two who came to me with the warning wound up dead less than a week later. I fear anyone else opposed to the reunification of the sects may wind up with their heads detached, also.
“If the clan is brought together, organized as we were hundreds of years ago, kept track of on paper...” His gaze landed on Dante, and Dante nodded. It was the organization that led to each and every clan member’s name being logged. When it fell into VanBueren’s hands, the slayer tried to systematically wipe out the entire clan.
“Times have changed, though,” Gaston continued, “since the last slayer made himself known. We can no long form a posse and go in search for this murderer. And I worry, from those I heard at the meeting last night, that we will have a few vigilantes trying to find this person or persons.”
That obnoxious young man who’d sat behind him.
“Our brothers and sisters on the police force are keeping me informed of developments in the case, but so far they’ve come up empty. We still don’t know how many may have been involved in the murders, or if it is a vampire or not.
“What we do know is that if the killer is one of us, we will be the ones who need to step up to dispatch him. Putting a vampire in prison, provided it could be captured...” He shook his head, and his bushy white brows pulled together. “I fear our discovery. I fear for the humans.
“We’ve lived in peace for a hundred years. We must fight to keep our way of life secret, and we must do anything and everything in our ability to keep this monster from killing any more of us. We must keep the humans safe.”
“So we sit back and wait for the killer to strike again?” Thomas asked. “And what of a clan gathering? We can’t let that happen.”
“I pray our friends on the police force will find clues to lead us to the slayer before then. And we will keep close watch on the younger of the sect to see what they might be planning. Most of them are too young to remember what life was like when we were the ones under a constant watch—the downfall for being such a new sect.”
Dante raised an eyebrow. “Him?” Until now it was ‘the killer’.
Gaston sighed. “My gut tells me it is one of us, and most likely a male. I hope I am wrong, but every one of us is so careful about the humans who know of our existence, and I do not believe there are any women among us strong enough to decapitate not one but two of our older vampires at the same time.”
It did make sense, he supposed. But a female vampire over the age of two hundred had nearly as much strength as a male of the same age. Dante shifted slightly, and Evan’s black gaze cut to him.
“I need to know if all of you are willing to band together, once we know who the killer is, to take care of the situation. Zebulon, you have not been involved in such situations, but you are the oldest besides myself and Digger.”
“I donna think ya should put yer own life on the line, Gaston,” Digger said. “The sect needs ya in your political capacity.”
Gaston pressed his lips into a thin line for a moment.
“Digger’s right,” Carlson said. “You keep us informed, and we’ll be where you need us, when you need us, but you can’t risk your own life. There is no one else the entire sect looks up to the way we do you. And it would take years if not decades for someone to move up to your political and social standing. We need you on the inside.”
“Your support humbles me,” Gaston said, his voice softer than before. “I have dealt with my share of vampire slayers over the millennia I have been alive, but I will defer to you. Unless my skill is needed to rid Seattle of this monster.”
Dante nodded in agreement with his brothers.
“We can take care of it,” Thomas said.
“Aye,” Zebulon added. “Don’t worry ’bout me. I’m there with ye.”
“Very well,” Gaston said as he stood up straight. “Until then, please get the word out that none of us should be out alone, and to keep a sharp eye and ear to the ground for any unrest among the sect. And arm yourselves. As soon as I get word, I’ll be calling you.”
As a group, they stood and then shook Gaston’s hand one at a time. The mood was somber and quiet as they exited the mansion and headed to their respective vehicles.
“Any thoughts?” Digger asked as he started the Corvette.
Dante shook his head, feeling a little ill. A slayer was one thing. The young idiot vampires trying to reunite and reorganize the clan was quite another. He would succeed in killing himself before he let his name be put back on a roster. A rogue slayer was bad enough. One with an entire list of names, one who might be organizing other slayers to do away with their entire race...
“Hell no,” he muttered.
“I’m with ya, mate. I’m right with ya.”
—
“Shit, that hurts!” Wendy ripped the last wax strip from her calf and cringed.
She still had a half hour before she needed to call the taxi to take her to Dante. Tonight had to be perfect. Smooth legs, hair in place, and now to find the perfect outfit. She exited the bathroom and jerked open the closet door in her bedroom. Where was something sexy when she needed it?
She didn’t own sexy. Those damn tight jeans she’d worn last Friday were about as sexy as she had, but she couldn’t go to eat dinner in them. Five bites of food and she’d have to open the top button just to breathe.
Oh, Lord. She couldn’t eat in front of Dante. She hadn’t used proper table manners in years. He was so sophisticated, he probably used all ten forks and eight spoons for a formal table setting.
Sex. Going there for sex. Hot, steamy, take-me-hard sex. If table etiquette put him off, then he wasn’t the right guy to get down and dirty with.
A flash of heat zipped through her body, making her shiver with excitement. She sooo wanted to get down and dirty. It had
been three years since she’d gotten laid, and she just knew Dante would know how to use that mouth—those incredibly long fingers. His low voice and soft accent were enough to send her over the edge.
She sucked in a deep breath, shut her eyes, and reached into the closet. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe... Nodding in approval of the emerald green skirt and sleeveless blouse, she thought it just might do. Then she went to her bureau and rifled through looking for some nylons...and came up empty. Damn, damn, damn.
Okay. That was okay. Who wanted to fight with pantyhose during hot, nasty sex? Certainly not her. They might suck her gut in and make her legs look better, but they weren’t the sexiest piece of clothing ever invented when they were being removed.
Panties. She needed sexy panties. Digging to the very back of the drawer, she found her one and only lace pair. Black. Thong. A gift from Candice, which she’d rolled her eyes at. Thank you, Candi! She found her only black bra in the back of the drawer, also, and hurried to put them on.
Then she was back in the bathroom, wiping away the hair remover from her top lip. Lookin’ good, girl. She grinned at herself then leaned closer to the mirror to check her teeth.
The door buzzer rang.
Who the hell...? She hadn’t told Candice about her date. She grabbed her blouse and put it on as she went to the speaker near the door and pushed the button. “Hello?”
“Wend. It’s Babs.”
Not now. “What is it? I’m in a hurry.”
“So am I. Let me in.”
Her sister was the last person she wanted to see right now. “I’m on my way out.”
“This is important, Wendy. Let me in.”
She did sound somewhat harassed, so Wendy hit the button that would buzz her in, then opened the front door a crack so Barbara could get in. She dashed back into her bedroom for her skirt. While she was there, she reached into the bottom of the closet and grabbed her one-and-only pair of black heels. Hopefully they’d do good things for her calves, since she didn’t have support hose to do it for her.
Dante’s Salvation Page 6
