Before he had a chance to respond, she marched back into the bathroom and slammed the door with a bang. The telltale snick of the lock engaging reached him and was soon followed by her furiously muttered words.
“Yeah, Jack. Change the god-damned sheets and you may want to save them too, to suck on later, because that’s the closest you’re going to be getting to any more of my blood, I can tell you that.”
Funny. He was grinning as picked up the linens. Deciding he’d give her the win with this one, he stripped the sheets just as she ordered. His mood, all of a sudden, felt lighter than it had in years. She hadn’t taken the news of her premature death as badly as she could have, and as far as fulfilling the prophecy? He was making some good headway there. She was such a horny little thing, all he really needed to do at this point was want her, and she was lost. Hell, they were both lost. This constant state of arousal was killing him, but he was prepared to deal with that because he wasn’t going to let her go. And if it meant keeping her here, with only a bed and him for comfort? Then that was something she’d just have to deal with.
Finley closed her eyes and soaked in the heated water up to her neck. She tried forcing herself to relax, yet it was proving impossible. Jack was like an emotional wrecking ball. First, he made her want him. No, the bastard, he had made her crave him, like a drug. Oh, so dangerous, but too tempting by far. And then just as she’d started to relax and enjoy the sudden feelings of unity between them he ruined it all. There she’d been, relishing the deep and meaningful connection she felt from ages past, which gave her an understanding of herself that she never thought possible and then? Devastation, when her new-found world of contentment was shattered by his screwing around on her.
As she thought about that now, she wondered if his despicable behavior could’ve been enough to cause her to kill herself. She had no idea how this giving up half of one’s soul deal worked, but if she was anything like the person she was now, then the idea of her taking her own life was ridiculous...and yet, according to him, she had. Why would he lie about such a thing? How could he have betrayed everything they were to one another? How—
She sighed. She needed to put those recriminations out of her mind for now. She was getting mad again and that defeated the whole purpose of her bath. Come on, Fin, she gave herself a mental pep talk while adjusting lower in the tub, concentrate on something besides—‘You can breathe, babe. I’m here. I’ve always been here ready to catch you as you fall for me.’ Damn, where had those recalled words come from? Worse still was the erotic image she had of him as he looked fifteen minutes ago, screwing her brains out. And even more horrifying was the picture she had of herself, begging him to do it. That spot between her legs heated and tingled as the sensitive area came alive with a fierce ache. The building thrum tempted her to take her hand, the bar of soap or the wash cloth and give herself some release.
“Babe?” Jack called from the other side of the closed door. “Do you need some help in there with something?”
Her eyes snapped opened and she sat up, answering him too fast, “No.” But then remembering that the door was locked, she relaxed and leaned back. Sinking down until her chin was level with the water, she grumbled under her breath, “I thought you couldn’t read minds, you liar.”
“Oh,” His voice was so clear. It sounded like he was speaking through the door-jamb. “It isn’t your mind I’m picking up on. It’s your body. You’re a part of me whether you like it or not. And for future reference, babe, my hearing is ten times better than yours. So be warned.”
That depressing discovery caused her to slip slowly into the fragrant liquid until her whole head was submerged. Bubbles were coming out of her mouth like a leaking tire underwater. She didn’t care, though. She was just happy experiencing this kind of quiet serenity, the nothingness for a moment. Maybe she should just stay there until she drowned.
What? That thought jolted her, but she couldn’t move. The most she could do was open her eyes to peer through the murky water. Although there was nothing there it was like a huge weight held her under and she started to panic until a dark image flashed in her mind. And the words. Horrible words.
“I don’t want her.” It was Quinn, naked in another woman’s arms, yelling…. Quinn didn’t want her. Another image started to take shape. She reached out and grabbed for the sides of the tub, flailing as she attempted to pull herself out from under the water. She needed air, but it was no use as another image hit her. The flash inside her mind made her jerk back violently and hit her head on the bottom of the bath. Oh, no. She saw the scene now. It played like a choppy movie in her head. Images and snippets of words tumbled and flashed bright before fading in shadows until—
The weight left her body and she was able to shoot up out of the water and gasp for air. She knew her eyes were open, yet all that she could see was that long ago image as she sputtered and coughed. From a distance, she saw herself sitting helpless in a chair. Why was she slumped over? Not moving? Why were her arms tied to each rest?
Someone approached. It was a woman. Ceil. She held something in her hand, but Finley couldn’t make it out. What was happening? For a split second, the tall blonde shifted and when she did, Finley caught the shine of something metal. The steel glinted from the light of the chandelier, and she knew what it was. A knife blade.
“You don’t have to look, Quinn. I know this is going to be tough for you, but it’s the only way. If you and I want to be together, we have to do it. It must be done,” she whispered.
Even though Finley knew this was only a vision, she stiffened when Ceil bent down and quickly slashed the blade through the skin of her left wrist. She seemed to pause and watch the blood spurt out before she turned to cut the other arm. Taking her time with this one. Cutting through the right side, as if she were purposely trying to inflict more pain. As soon as that thought came to her, Finley’s vantage point changed and she was given a better view. One that made her want to puke as she watched Ceil smile and slowly work the blade, back and forth in a sawing action, against the delicate tissue and veins. Methodically, she worked until blood squirted and then seeped out, running in a red-black stream over the arm of the chair to the carpet.
Taking in the horrible image, she thought she’d heave, but then Ceil leaned in to whisper in her ear, “You’re lucky he doesn’t know who you are. Otherwise all of you would have to die.”
Finley barely got her head around those words when Ceil held up the knife. “At least take this now that the deed’s been done.”
And when the masculine hand flashed in front of her eyes. Fast, but not so fast she didn’t see it. The large sterling ring, that she bought him, gleaming as bright as the blade had before her blood had dulled it. The sight broke her heart as she cried, “No…Quinn.”
Automatically she tried to escape from what she was seeing. And wound up shooting forward so quickly she slipped and went under the water again. Only this time nothing held her down. Reemerging, she coughed and sputtered, collapsing against the side of the tub as she tried to catch her breath.
“Are you okay in there?” Jack called. “I got your bag from upstairs, just in case you needed it.” When she coughed again, he asked, “Did you swallow some water or something?”
“A little. B-but I’m fine.” She blinked to clear her eyes and then quickly scanned the room. Grabbing one of the two towels she’d stacked by the side of the tub, she shook it out as she stood. She used one as a turban for her wet hair and snatched up the other, vigorously drying herself while she tried to keep the reins on her panic.
One terrorizing thought tripped over another. Had Quinn really done it? Had he made a pact with that woman and let her commit murder while he stood by and did nothing? Was that why he didn’t want to be called Quinn anymore? Hadn’t it worked out with Ceil? Or had it? And it was just the matter of fulfilling the prophecy in this lifetime that he needed her for?
That thought stopped her cold. Was it true? And when he got his child f
rom her and she was no longer needed, would she be murdered again?
Her hands trembled as she wound the damp towel around herself and gingerly sat down on the edge of the tub. In a daze, she leaned over and pulled the faucet lever up so the water started to drain. How could it be that she was more upset with the idea of Quinn being in the arms of another woman, giving his love to her, than she was about possibly being murdered? This made no sense. Was she that desperate for his love? Or was this how the sharing of her soul thing worked?
“Hey, are you okay?”
She hadn’t heard the door unlock so when she turned and saw him standing there, she jerked and almost fell back into the tub. “Quinn. Jesus, I mean, Jack,” she corrected and stood. Retying tucking the wrapped towel around her so it was tighter, she demanded, “Get out.”
He gave her an odd look and asked again, “Are you all right?”
“I told you I’m fine, now get out.”
“You don’t look fine. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Have you remembered something more?”
She shook her head so hard that her turban almost unraveled. Silently, she prayed that he’d leave before she lost what little control she had over her emotions and started to cry. How could he have let that woman do that to her? How?
“Here’s your bag.” He was in the middle of handing over her things when a heavy pounding caught his attention. Thinking quickly she snatched her bag before he was so distracted by the noise that he left with it in hand to investigate.
“Hey.”
“It’s mine.”
He stared at her until the knocking became more persistent and a man’s growly voice, called, “Jack? Are you in there? I need to speak with you right away.”
“Perfect, now what?” He turned to leave and then swung back. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She tried to look as okay as possible as she nodded. She figured she’d nailed it when he nodded back before he turned and left.
Without a moment to spare, she tossed her duffle bag down and blinked. Think. Her cell phone. Dropping to her knees, she popped the snaps and opened the satchel. Digging through the small pile of clothes and feeling her way around her sneakers, her comb, her cosmetic bag...where was her—?
"Okay, gorgeous, I have to go and check in on—what are you doing?”
Fuck, caught elbows deep in the bag. Don’t look guilty. Guilty? What did she have to be guilty about? Suspicious. Don’t look suspicious.
Oh, God, she knew, as she straightened and hastily adjusted, first the turban that had listed to one side, and then the towel around her so it didn’t indecently gape open, she looked suspicious as hell. Worse, the word felt like it was written in huge black marker lettering across her forehead, so there was no point lying. “I was looking for my cell phone.”
“Oh.” There was a momentary flicker in his eyes. Was it disappointment or worry? He was definitely uncomfortable, but he didn’t offer any more than that. Instead, he changed the topic. “It seems I have to go up to Gilby to see to a few things. I won’t be long and when I get back, you can tell me why you’re behaving so strangely.”
Instead of leaving, he stepped forward and extended a hand to her. The one with the ring and she shivered. She didn’t want to take it. He was a monster. A vampire, no matter how many times he assured her that the term was Vampine. He had let someone kill her. But as she looked up into his brilliant jade-green eyes, she had the hardest time trying to reconcile that thought. Maybe she was wrong about this. But Ceil had spoken his name and he had been there in the room. The ring.
“Come on, I don’t bite,” he chuckled as he impatiently moved his hand in a bid for her to accept his help.
She scowled and then slapped her palm in his, muttering under her breath as he yanked her to her feet, “You do too.”
The last of those words landed against his lower chest as he’d pulled her into his arms, for a bear hug. When she was sure he’d squashed all the air out of her lungs he whispered against her cheek, “I’ve been so lonely without you. Even your anger is a welcomed comfort.”
Those gentle words sounded so filled with naked honesty that she wanted to believe them. She wanted to let them slide over her heart and fill the cracks his carelessness had made there, but she couldn’t. The images were too fresh, and the implications of what he may have done, too horrible.
Yet, when he pulled back and leaned down to capture her lips for a kiss that took her breath away, she was almost tempted to forget it all. Forget everything but him. Yes, she was slipping and several moments later when he finally let her go, she swayed and had to catch herself. “You’re dangerous.”
He grinned, nodded, and drew his index finger playfully down the bridge of her nose. “I know.”
He didn’t say any more than that. He didn’t have to. He just turned and left her standing there. Alone while she examined all of what had just transpired. Their earlier fight, the images, and then how neatly she had melted in his arms. That last recollection made her groan. She couldn’t stay here. What if her worst fears were true? What if he had found her for the sole purpose of creating a child for the prophecy? He seemed very aggressive about claiming every opportunity he could to try. Just thinking about that made her skin tingle and her heart race...
You need to get hold of yourself. Yes you do and then you need to get the hell out of here.
She turned her attention back to her bag and pulled out her bra, panties, and jeans. Instead of her earlier angora sweater, she decided on the beige cable-knit turtleneck she’d thought to bring with her. This gave her pause. She needed her jacket and boots. She couldn’t very well traipse down a mountain in the middle of winter at nighttime without them. Well, she did have her sneakers. That was something. She’d worry about her coat in a moment. First, she needed to get hair dried and herself dressed before she escaped.
Chapter Ten
“What the hell do you mean, stolen? You said they got in. How? Or did you mean they were already in. As in one of the reporters?” Jack asked Wooly, before he bent to put on his boots.
“If it was, it would be the young one. The one that had eyes for our lady.”
Jack’s head snapped up. “Alt.”
“Yep. He’s missing.”
“I’ll kill the bastard when I get my hands on him. How many volumes were taken?” He straightened and pushed open the heavy door, waiting for Wooly to exit before he followed him out to the snow-covered terrace. “How many?”
“One.”
“One?” He halted. He didn’t like the sound of that when there were twelve in the safe. “Which one?” he asked, but he feared he already knew the answer.
“The fifth one. The Book of Maps.”
“Christ.” Jack caught up to him. “How did he get through the locks? No one heard anything?” He headed toward the moonlit path through the trees, deciding it was faster.
“No, nothing.”
Jack went first, ducking under a low hanging branch, while he thought about that. How could anyone break through impenetrable metal and bypass ultra-sophisticated locks without sound? He’d figure that out once he got up there. Right now he needed to concentrate on the details he did have to piece together.
“How long has it been since anyone saw him?”
“They weren’t sure. An hour, maybe more.” Wooly turned his head and spit into the snow. “I say find the prick and hang him.”
Jack wasn’t going to argue. An hour? Well, the reporter couldn’t have gotten far. That was one positive. After they broke through the scope of trees and Gilby came into view, he stopped. “So there’s time. Make sure no keys or vehicles are missing. You check on them and I’ll see to the vault.”
He looked up and made note of the full moon as his hot breath misted around him. The guy may have that light to guide him, but the newly fallen snow was enough to hamper a quick departure to town. “It will take him until morning to reach the bottom by foot and by then, we’ll have caught up with him.”
> Wooly nodded and then set off, while Jack wasted no time, heading straight to the vault room.
Finley stared at the bedroom door in shock. It was locked. He’d actually locked her in. She couldn’t believe it. She was just about to start pounding on the damn thing when she heard a noise — like tapping — coming from behind her.
Spinning around, she scanned the room from one corner to the other.
“Cullen? Are you in there? Finley?”
“Jesse?” she whispered. “I’m here,” she called louder and ran to the wall lined with heavy drapes. Of course, the French doors, she’d forgotten about them.
She pulled at the curtains with one hand and brushed her other back and forth over them until she found a section with a part. Wedging her arm in, she spread the slit wider and stepped behind. It was dark, but once her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she found one of the door handles. Luckily, this one had a lock on the knob but when she turned it still didn’t open. “Jesse?” She couldn’t see him. Trying unsuccessfully to keep it together, she wound up yanking on the handle until her fingers cramped. “It won’t budge.”
“Cullen.” Jesse came up against the outside of door and waved to get her attention. “There’s another lock up there. Look.” He pointed overhead.
One of those stupid slide bolts. She should have known. Feeling infinitely better now that he was there, she nodded. Only problem? How was she going to reach it? “I’ll be right back,” she turned and fought her way through the drapes. Once they split, she ran to the far end of the room and grabbed one of the dining chairs. Dragging it back to the doors, she pushed it, seat first, through the panels, and then nearly fell twice in her haste as she climbed up on it.
Love Of A Lifetime Page 13
