The Sin Eater (A F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad Investigation Book 5)

by Jennifer Harlow

  “But look at this flash,” he says, gesturing to the helicopter. “Not to mention I am taking great risk to my physical person this evening simply by setting foot in Los Angeles so you can experience a ballet masterpiece. Surely that warrants a second evening of your company.”

  “Why are you taking your life into your own hands by going to LA?”

  “I am not on the best of terms with its current ruler.”

  “Oh, yeah. I vaguely remember Oliver mentioning something about that. What happened? You sleep with his wife? Steal his herd of cattle a century ago?”

  “Nothing so simplistic I am afraid. Lady Antonia and I have had our dust ups for over a century, but our little rivalry especially flared over sixty years ago as most wars do, over land. My territory used to span to the edge of Orange County, but Antonia secretly purchased large parcels of property and built homes and the like on them. By the time I discovered the subterfuge, she and her fellow vampires were firmly entrenched. Back then Orange County was nowhere near the population center it is now. Her vassals far outnumbered mine in a very short time. She agreed to parlay, but of course would not remove her business interests and naught was solved. So, with no other option, I dispatched people to surgically demolish the properties and those closest to her in an attempt to destabilize her operation. Unfortunately she launched a counter-attack, slaying my second in command and burning down many of my interests in Orange County. Eventually our war began making headlines so the King sent emissaries and gave us a choice: cease hostilities or he would strip us of our posts and exile us from North America. She was granted all territory north of Santa Ana. Since then we have engaged in a Cold War of sorts. Dispatching spies, undermining business deals, and of course waiting for the first sign of instability to strike.”

  “Why? Why live like that?”

  “To become the most powerful vampire on the continent, if not the world,” he says with the briefest of smiles. “I would control a hundred thousand vampires and become a billionaire a hundred times over.”

  I shake my head. “Or you could be content with what you have,” I offer. “Lord of San Diego ain’t too shabby.”

  “A shark must always keep swimming forward, Beatrice, or it perishes.”

  “You know, you’re the second person in as many days to compare you to a shark. It’s a tad disconcerting.” Connor chuckles. “Well, if world domination is your end game, Lex Luthor, then why not just challenge her to a duel? Isn’t that how you vamps become Lords and Ladies?”

  “It is. However, Antonia is the greatest swordsperson inhabiting the earth. I have kept up with the sport, however I do not possess enough skill to face her in single combat. She has challenged me, but I am no fool.”

  “So she did kind of steal a metaphorical herd of your cattle,” I quip.

  “And made me appear weak in the process.”

  “So what will she do if she finds out about tonight’s field trip into enemy territory? Should I have brought my machete?”

  “You shall be perfectly safe. Antonia would never harm a hair on the head of someone so close to your Oliver.”

  “She’s another ex of his?”

  “Of course.”

  I frown. “Yeah. Not the most exclusive of clubs, is it? I think I’m the only woman, or man for that matter, to enter his orbit and not to join.”

  Connor stares at me behind his sunglasses, I think studying me. “You have truly never shared his bed, have you?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “But you desired to. Would you have succumbed to his temptation if not for the wolf?”

  “I-I…can’t answer that. I mean, of course the thought crossed my mind,”—nine million times—“but that doesn’t mean anything. It crosses my mind about Chris Evans every hour too. Actions are what matter.”

  “Thoughts hold great power,” he points out. “It must have been a great source of discomfort to your wolf knowing you harbored desire for another man, one known for his sexual prowess, and one in such close proximity to you. I simply cannot reconcile the brute who on two occasions attempted to tear out my larynx and an enlightened, secure male who would not protest as his paramour traipsed off alone with a man he obviously loathed.”

  Hence why we had our own little Cold War. “Will trusted me, and I never gave him a reason not to. But yeah, it got complicated sometimes and was a lot of hard work.” All for nothing in the end.

  “The important things in life often are,” Connor says.

  “Well, it left me exhausted.”

  Connor takes my hand again. “Then allow me to take care of you, at least for tonight.”

  “This is a good start,” I say, glancing around the helicopter.

  I suppose even sharks have their uses.

  *

  It’s easy to see why Swan Lake is a classic. I always thought I’d find ballet dull and hard to follow, but I’m amazed how swept up I become in the combination of music and movement. What the dancers are able to do with their bodies is nothing short of astounding, and this is coming from a woman who can move matter with her mind. I’ll have to attend more often.

  It’s almost midnight when the show ends, and I’m starving. My rumbling stomach began all but stealing the show around Act 4. I smiled apologetically to Connor and the others glaring at me in our box. Can’t take me anywhere nice. When the curtain falls, Connor helps me into the limo that picked us up at the helipad in LA before climbing in himself. “Can we stop at Mc—”

  “Driver,” Connor says, cutting me off, “will you please take us to Taylor’s Bistro at Mullholland and Cypress? Thank you.” He rolls up the partition. “I am a tad peckish myself.”

  “You plan on eating the waitress?”

  He smiles again. “It caters to both our kinds,” he instructs me. “An old friends owns it.”

  “The last few times I’ve been to vampire/human establishments everyone was naked and holding whips.”

  “It is merely a restaurant, I assure you.” His grin grows along with the crinkles in his eyes. “Though if you prefer whips to steak…”

  “Not in this lifetime, Danny Boy.”

  “Then steak it is.”

  Taylor’s Bistro appears to be precisely that, a small dimly lit restaurant. The only thing out of the ordinary is the fact there’s not sign on the front above the empty store window, and we have to walk down an alley to reach the entrance, entering in the back. To the outside world it’s an empty boutique. Guess they don’t want some tourist to wander in and find people sucking down blood as three fourths of the current patrons are. As I do whenever I enter a potentially hostile territory, I instantly take in the patrons, the space, and locate the exits. Twelve vampires and three humans at the ten tables, all relaxed and not even glancing our way. Exit in the back left corner along with the door we came in. Still wish I’d brought a gun. Or Bette my machete.

  Connor escorts me to the back by the exit, pulling out my chair before sitting with his back to the wall. Guess I’m not the only paranoid one. He continues to survey the restaurant as he’s also done since we entered. It does nothing to lower my own nervousness. “Are you okay?” I ask.

  He stops recon to look my way. “Yes. Of course.”

  “You know, I’d be fine if we just popped through an In & Out Burger or something.”

  “Nonsense.”

  A waiter in all black walks over. “Hello, welcome to Taylor’s. Tonight we’re serving chicken alfredo with antipasto, steak filets with sautéed onions and pomme frites, or nicosise salad.”

  “Steak, medium rare, and coffee with milk and sugar,” I say.

  “And I shall have the AB positive if you have it,” Connor says.

  “We don’t, I’m afraid. We do have B though.”

  “That will do. Thank you.”

  “I will be right back with your drinks.” He walks away.

  We stare across the small table at one another, just smiling for a few moments. “This has been a wonderful night. Thank yo
u.”

  “You are welcome, Beatrice,” he says sincerely.

  I shake my head and raise an eyebrow at him. “Who knew when I first met you, you’d turn out to be a pretty decent guy?”

  “Yes, we did not have the best of introductions. Entirely my fault, of course. It is long overdue, but…I apologize. And I thank you for looking past my bad behavior.” I stare down. “You have, have you not?”

  I give it a good think before sighing. “I…don’t know,” I answer truthfully. “Not completely. Would you have gone through with it? All your threats?”

  “I would hardly call offering you privilege, power, and devotion a threat,” he says.

  “Accept or die is a threat, Connor,” I point out. “Cake or death still has the death component.”

  “I suppose it does,” he concedes with a slight frown.

  “You had to know I wouldn’t accept.”

  “Actually, fairest, I did not. You were the first to refuse my consortship in almost two hundred years.”

  “And what happened to her?” I ask.

  “She died of consumption a year after our time together concluded. I miss her to this day.”

  The waiter returns with my coffee and Connor’s blood before departing again.

  “Well, you didn’t even know me. So what was your endgame, Danny Boy?”

  “What does it matter now?” he asks, sipping his blood.

  “It matters if you want that second date,” I say. “I like you. I do. I just…there has to be a speck of trust between us. So just tell me and we can put the past to bed. We can get that speck. Please.”

  Connor studies my face, no doubt the wheels in his mind churning at break neck speed, trying to figure out the best angle, his shoulders relaxing a little before saying, “The truth? I saw you as a weapon. You know the world I inhabit is little more than a jungle with predators behind every tree. To survive one takes every advantage they have at their disposal. I believed I had leverage over one of the most powerful psychics in the world, I would be a fool not to at least attempt to acquire said weapon.”

  I figured as much. “Okay. Fair enough. But now? Am I still just a gun to you?”

  “No. I overplayed my hand. My ploy failed. I have no leverage. I still do not. And yet…” he reaches across the table for my hand. I let him take it, entwining our fingers together. “Here we are. Equals. Here because we both wish to be. No ulterior motives but that. I like you, Beatrice Alexander. Truly. I wish to spend more time with you because you are funny. Sexy. Interesting. A fantastic kisser. That is all. At least for me.” He sits back. “So, now am I granted that second date?”

  “Don’t know how you’re going to top this one,” I say with a smile.

  “I believe you have just thrown down the gauntlet, my fair Beatrice. I will come out victorious.” He sips his blood. “As always.”

  “Not always,” I point out, sipping my coffee too. “But a loss every now and then is humbling. And you certainly could use a humbling or two.”

  “I certainly have no problem with falling to my knees before you, fairest. I shall take any position you desire.”

  My face grows hot, and I know I’m blushing. “Jeez, you’re almost as bad as Oliver.”

  “Except I shall succeed where he failed,” Connor says with utter certainty.

  “It’s not a competition,” I say, drinking my coffee.

  “Everything in life is a competition, fairest,” he schools me.

  “Okay, this whole supervillain vibe you’re giving off right now is a little off-putting, just so you know.”

  “Then how may I steer you back into the mood? I could tell you all the things I wish to do to you when I get you alone again?”

  And we’ve gone too far in the opposite direction. “Tell me about Oliver.”

  “I beg your pardon?” he chuckles.

  “I’ve never had a chance to sit down with someone who knew him in the old days. There wasn’t much time between meeting them and them trying to kill us, which always seemed to happen. So. What was the legendary Oliver Smythe Montrose like?”

  “The life of the party. Up for almost anything. We were not close by any standard, but I was close with his Grand-Sire Asher.” I crinkle my nose at that name. “It was deplorable Peter traded Oliver’s life for Asher’s. It certainly did not endear your Oliver to me further, forget his continued relationship with Antonia.”

  “Asher slaughtered an entire family and kidnapped his ex-girlfriend while Oliver saved the life of a little girl. Your friend deserved everything he got. And Oliver more than paid for his part in that night. I have personally seen him save a dozen lives, mine included.”

  “If I am not mistaken he was forced into his position with the Federal Government. Forgive me but I do find it difficult to reconcile Oliver Smythe or whatever he calls himself now, risking life and limb for perfect strangers as if he were Superman when the man I knew could not think past his next bedmate or gala.”

  “Then I guess he’s changed.”

  “Perhaps he finally had a reason to,” Connor says, raising his eyebrow and sipping his blood.

  “I had fairly little to do with it if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

  “Do not underestimate your power over the opposite sex, my fair Beatrice. I speak as one now trapped in its clutches. From all I have observed and learned, you two share a bond I have never known him to have formed before. Perhaps not even with Antonia.”

  “We’re friends. Friends should have a bond. And ours runs deep because we’ve gone through the worst of the worst together and when it mattered, we’ve never let each other down. We understand each other. We recognize what each other is capable of, what the other can endure even if we ourselves don’t recognize it. I don’t think anyone wanted to put in the work with him. You all expected him to be nothing more than the life of the party, and after a while if enough people tell you what you are, even the strongest of us start to believe the propaganda. But he is so much more than that. He’s smart, and funny, and has a good heart. One of the best I’ve ever come across.”

  Connor studies me again but his own face gives nothing away. “Then why is he not here? By your side in your time of need? You told me you have not spoken in months.”

  “Because…it hurts me too much, and I’ve met my pain quota for several lifetimes.”

  “But you miss him,” Connor states as fact.

  More than I care to admit. “Of course.”

  “More than you miss your fiancée?”

  The question rattles me enough I can’t hide my shock and uneasiness. My mouth flops open a few times. I don’t know how to answer that. I’ve questioned my decision that night countless times. Would I make it again? The answer is always, always yes. If the roles were reversed and it was Oliver about to kill Will, I would have pulled the trigger too. But it wasn’t. I miss Will like I’m missing a limb, but it isn’t him I instantly turn to share a funny thought or have a conversation with only to realize he isn’t there to hear it. “I guess I miss them in different ways,” I answer, staring down at the white tablecloth.

  “I did not mean to offend or upset you with the question,” Connor assures me.

  “I know. It’s my fault for driving us down this road. Seems every one we go down is filled with crater sized potholes.” I look up at Connor again. “I haven’t been on a real date since Steven almost four years ago. I’m out of practice, and I was never good at this first date thing to begin with.” I sip my coffee. “Shouldn’t we be talking about our favorite movies or hobbies or something safer?”

  “Very well then. My favorite movie is The Lion in Winter, what is yours?”

  My steak arrives as we’re discussing the time he met my favorite writer Charlotte Bronte—very timid and shy—and I begin relaxing again. Will and Oliver have no place at this table. I focus on the sexy Irishman sitting across from me and the equally yummy steak. “…and Byron even contemplated following her to Haworth, but the man has the attenti
on span of a fly. He found a new virgin to seduce closer to home. I have never liked the man, especially after he and Richard had their falling out.”

  “So Lord Byron’s still kicking around, huh?”

  “Unfortunately. He has taken to writing erotica under multiple pen names. I hear they are quite good.”

  “What’s one of the pen names?” I ask, eating a fry.

  A half smile forms on Connor’s face. “Do you read erotica, Beatrice? I am shocked.”

  “Why? I read a lot.”

  “But erotica?” he asks, fake scandalized.

  “I am a red blooded, liberated woman, Connor McInnis. I have even watched porn.” Once. Ick. “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “You merely give off a certain air of innocence and purity, fair one. That is all.”

  “Excuse me, did we not spend all of Saturday night dirty dancing and…rounding home?”

  “The mere fact you feel the need to use the euphemism ‘rounding home’ proves my point.”

  “My grandmother taught me not to be vulgar,” I say, “especially when in public.”

  “Then she would be positively scandalized when I tell you it is taking almost every ounce of my willpower not to rip off your panties, bend you over this table, spread your legs, part you to glide my cock inside your currently wet cunny, and rut you mercilessly as you cry out in pure pleasure until you come six times whilst all these people watch.”

  I stare across the table, my cheeks as hot as my yes wet womanhood. I cross my legs under the table to help quell the not unwelcome sensations. “I…”

  “Or perhaps you would prefer I finish what I began Saturday. My tongue still craves your succulent pussy. I could feast on you for hours. Flicking. Kissing. Suckling until dawn as you writhe above me, begging me to stop. To continue. As I give you no quarter. I could fall to my knees now if that is your desire. I know it is mine.”

  I have absolutely no idea what to say or do in this moment. I want to look away again but he’s so freaking magnetic I can’t unglue my eyes from his seductive face. In this moment, if we weren’t separated by a table and in public, I’d be unzipping his pants and ripping off my own panties before I rode him into orgasmic oblivion. He must have read my mind because the side of his mouth rises slightly, almost like a dare. It’s just sex. He—