by Jackie Ivie
Or ever.
The pounding of her heart had slowed to normal…that, or she was overcoming her fright. No. That was wishful thinking. Jeannette had moved her spoon to stir her tea and watched her hand tremble. Visibly.
“Why are you shaking?”
Jeannette stopped stirring. It was a waste of time, anyway. The tea wasn’t going to get finished. She had to move her eyes to his; felt her heart skip another beat. And then watch as his eyes instantly narrowed.
“Your heart. It just…reacted again. Is that…usual?”
“How…do you know?”
He smiled. Her heart threatened to leave her chest and she dropped the spoon, clinking it against the rim of the cup. His smile died the same instant. Then he was frowning at her. It was almost too much. This was too much man. Entirely too handsome. Garnering way too much attention.
“Is it because of me?”
“What?” She didn’t have to feign the confusion.
“This reaction. The heart issue you suffer off and on. It’s due to me…isn’t it?”
Unacceptable, Jeannette. Even if he wasn’t a creature of the night and a murderer, he wasn’t getting away with a self-conceited statement like that. No man was.
“No.”
Her heart pumped harder, sending blood to infuse her cheeks with the lie. Jeannette rarely blushed. She watched something flare into life in the depths of his eyes. Something magnetic. And infinitely compelling. Her lips opened to pant for breath. So did his, only he didn’t need air. It was to give the sharp tips of fangs room.
Her eyes widened. Her blush faded. And her heart went into a staccato of beats that would probably see her needing a defibrillation station if she didn’t watch it. His expression immediately altered. His frown came back. And he worked his lips, covering over his teeth.
“You may not wish to do that again,” he informed her when he’d finished.
“What?” Her voice was missing. He heard it anyway.
“Flush.”
“…and here is your coffee, Sir. As well as a warmed slice of pineapple upside-down cake, topped with our own recipe coconut sherbet. Will you need cream? Sugar?”
The items were set in front of the creature. He didn’t react. He didn’t move. His entire focus was on her. And she returned the favor. The waiter finished and just stood there, hovering.
“That will be all,” Jeannette told him without looking up.
“Does Madam require more perfectly heated water, perhaps?” the waiter asked, once again using his snide voice.
“I believe I’ll just need the check.”
“Oh. I see. Very good.”
He turned and stomped away. Or as much as a man could stomp in a room filled with thick carpeting. It was probably amusing if she watched. She didn’t. She daren’t move her eyes from the creature facing her, holding her with a mesmeric gaze that almost reached out and embraced her.
“We can leave now?”
The fangs were gone. His teeth looked normal when he spoke. He wasn’t smiling, however. He looked totally serious. And totally divine.
“We…?”
He smiled. Her heart did the belly swoop again. His eyes didn’t narrow this time. They seemed to grow even more magnetic. A buzzing sound started in her ears. It grew to encompass the entire room. Yet, she had no trouble hearing him over it.
“So…it is me making your heart do…odd things.”
“No.” She mouthed it.
He grinned, showing off pearly white teeth that would put a dental hygienist to shame. And nothing that looked like fangs. The waiter brought the bill. She put her room number on it. Signed it. The waiter probably looked with disgust at the untouched dessert he’d brought. She didn’t notice. She only noted when he left.
“I already told you. I’m new to this. You have another suggestion?”
And then the buzzing stopped. To dead silence. Making it easy to hear her own voice answering him with something she’d never say. Under any circumstance. To any man.
“I…I have a room here.”
Her reply garnered another grin from him and that got her another heart-swoop. And that just got her more of his amusement. With his hand at her elbow, he assisted her to rise. The contact sparked, and then warmed, instantly elevating everything to another level of awareness.
And she hadn’t even seen him move.
CHAPTER FOUR
She was taking him to her room!
Nigel had advised using the vampiric mesmeric powers, but since Akron had spoken of the mental powers of KayNan’s mate, it just didn’t seem possible that it worked. And this easily. KayNan smoothed down the fine weave of his wool suit coat, fiddled with the buttons, lifted the hem as if to appraise stitching, pulled at his collar. He was nervous? Antsy? He couldn’t believe it. But something even weirder than before was happening. Everywhere. All through him. It helped if he kept his hands busy, using the motions to ward off some of the growing sensations. His skin felt like it was too tight, all of a sudden. Maybe it was his dress shirt. They must make collars constrictive at the neck for a reason. The top button scratched against his newly shaved Adam’s apple and the tie thing was akin to a noose. Is this truly how women wanted their men to appear nowadays? It wasn’t comfortable. Or Nigel had ordered the wrong size.
His mate looked over her shoulder at him, possibly alerted by his fidgeting. KayNan immediately pulled his finger free of his collar and resumed the ‘man-about-town’ façade he’d been advised to use. He didn’t know if it worked. She kept his gaze locked for long enough he lost count of the rising numbers displayed in a panel above the door behind her. Wow. This woman had perfect eyes. Twin pools of dark. With ever-changing brown tones. Mysterious. Deep. He’d never come across eyes like that. They pulled at him. Enthralled him. Still. Looking into them was more enjoyment than he’d ever known. Then again…he hadn’t much to compare it to. It was even better than feeding from a human untainted with drugs or alcohol. It made the ‘too-tight’ skin sensation move to an itch that annoyed, and then demanded scratching. He was actually amazed that he didn’t comply.
She looked away first and he sagged slightly, as if released from some kind of tension – not unlike the straps they’d used to hold him up when he’d been whipped. KayNan stopped the memory. What was he thinking that for? The past was just that – past. His tormentors dead. Long gone. Obliterated by time and distance. And this was his present.
And this really was his mate!
He studied the top of her hair and then went back to toying with his attire; this time running his fingers down the collar on his coat, smoothing it along his abdomen, and then tucking his hands finally into slacks pockets that fit so smoothly, they must have been designed for that purpose. He didn’t know. He’d had to have help from the bell staff to finish. KayNan had probably over-tipped the fellow, but his tie was done. And it looked correct to the packaging photo.
He should have spent some of the flight reviewing the video feeds Nigel sent him. It had been too boring. All about speech, and posture, and manners and dress and all sorts of things that KayNan had fast-forwarded through. He’d wanted to reach the good part – the bit on mating. The part that needed the thing called a condom. He’d given up after scanning the videos twice and pulled the video cable from the cabin wall. He’d have it repaired later. Nothing was assuaging what he really needed. Every moment elevated it, while the following moment dismayed and prolonged. He’d ached to just find her. Be in the same area with her. Absorb her presence. Watch her. He’d worry over how to approach and speak to her later.
Good thing that waiter fellow had stepped in and inadvertently assisted him. Who knew a lady was seated first? KayNan supposed the dining etiquette portion of one video probably knew. Another probably knew how to tie a four-in-hand tie, too.
KayNan had never worn fancy dress attire. Actually, he rarely wore anything other than trousers. And yet here he was, bathed, shaved, and attired in a suit that put a large dent in his account
– or so Nigel had warned. Nobody at V.A.L. would believe it. KayNan didn’t quite believe it. But something had worked. He was on his way to her room! Without one bit of quibbling over it. That was strange, but the night was passing out strangeness.
This cubicle they inhabited right now, for instance.
KayNan had followed his mate to a dead-end area that contained eight metallic doors – four on either side. His mate had pushed a button and one door had instantly opened. He had no choice but to follow her into a mirrored chamber larger than his cell. There was a panel of lights behind the ceiling tiles. They reflected off black tiles beneath their feet. A thick polished wood banister ran horizontally along the sides, approximately waist level. Nothing else. No pallet. No chair. Nothing. She didn’t explain. He didn’t ask. He needed to get out more. Nigel hadn’t said anything about this box.
He watched her punch some numbers into the panel, and then the floor moved beneath them. She didn’t note his quick move to compensate, sliding the leather soles of his dress shoes to widen his stance. Nor did she notice his consternation. The box was moving. It was an odd feeling. Not unlike flying. Only in here, you couldn’t see where you were heading. This was blind movement, almost like he was still aboard his private jet. The movement ended with the slightest jar, then came a bell sound, and then the doors opened before them without any notice and very little noise.
The view had changed.
The commercial foyer of her hotel had altered. Where there had been dark tones and mirrors and lots of chairs and sofas arranged into intimate circles, the box had transported them to a long hallway intersected every so often with ornate doors beneath equally ornate cornices. She stepped out. He was at her heels. The moment they exited, the doors closed behind them, and the machinery whirred again. KayNan had it pegged now. It was the elevator thing they’d advised him to use when he’d first arrived here; especially since he’d booked the top floor penthouse. A few of the staff had raised eyebrows when he’d asked for the door to the stairs instead, but they’d had that expression since he’d arrived and checked in. He supposed it was lack of luggage. Or maybe it was due to his attire, although Nigel had assured him that a trench coat covered all sorts of inadequacies – such as insufficient wardrobe choices.
His mate started walking a bit quicker. KayNan elongated his step to compensate. Her heart kicked up a notch, which meant his did the same. The heart thing she suffered happened only occasionally now – not like it had in the dining area. And he knew the source for sure now: him. The knowledge was heady. Exhilarating. Adding even more to his sense of anticipation.
KayNan watched the sway of her hips beneath her skirt. That was enticing. Actually, everything about her called to him in the most primal way. She wore a denim jacket with a large embroidered flower of some kind across the back. It highlighted her slimness. That was enticing, too. She had long, dark hair. Thick. Wavy. Shadow dark, but with hints of gold. Her hair rippled down to graze those same hips. Equally enticing. Occasionally he caught a glimpse of an ankle. She wore barely-there sandals on her feet. That was another huge bit of enticement. He was probably in luck that he only had the back view to contend with. He’d never seen a small woman with the extent of bosom this woman claimed. This mate of his was womanly. Voluptuous. Curvaceous. He couldn’t wait to feel her crushed against him.
Hmm.
These halls were carpeted with a less-expensive weave than his floor, but they still sucked up noise. He had to concentrate and use his vampiric powers just to hear their steps. And then he expanded upon them, catching the rhythm of her pulse as it matched his. The sound of her lungs inhaling and then exhaling. The whoosh of her blood as it moved along her veins. Succulent. Warm. Perfect. Parts he’d long forgotten and totally ignored stirred beneath his fly. KayNan jerked his head down in surprise. Then his hands. It was true! Everything he’d heard of the mating…was true!
He shouldn’t have done that.
Craving hit him, nearly buckling his knees. Need and desire and yearning lengthened his canines, sent a blizzard of shivering across his skin, and stopped his stride. KayNan pulled his hands away to make fists and when that didn’t seem sufficient, he crossed them over his chest and held them there. Everything on him locked in place, vibrating to a hunger he’d never felt before. It sent a red wash to color everything in sight, while every muscle fought the bonds he put on them.
Harder. More. Again. He shoved his fists against his shoulders. Pulled his chest and abdomen tighter. Locked his buttocks and thighs. And his newly awakened groin got even harder. Bigger. Pressing against seams and fabric restrictions until even that felt erotic. Or Nigel had ordered him the wrong size of slacks, too. It was probably visual. And nothing he did seemed to work.
This wasn’t possible.
His mate appeared unaware of his absence. Unmoved by his trauma. Ignorant of his torment. Or she was so caught in the spell he’d cast, she didn’t even notice that he wasn’t at her heels. KayNan watched through slit eyes as she stopped at a door, inserted a card thing into a slot, and then pulled it out. He lifted his head. Oh. Shit. That’s how it worked? Rather like an ATM? He knew about ATM’s. Prowling the neighborhoods about an automated teller machine was excellent hunting ground. There was always a victim about. Either getting cash, or looking to rob for the same green paper. Either way, they were easy pickings.
KayNan should’ve known that’s what the card they’d given him at check-in was for. The moderator on that stupid video feed probably knew. He’d have to reimburse the hotel for the doorjamb upstairs; but only on one side of it. His suite had a set of double doors. One was now shoved into place and held there with the door stopper shoved into the top of it. That had worked and the bellboy hadn’t even noticed earlier.
A green light flashed from the slot, lighting his mate’s hand for an instant. Then he heard a click. She turned the handle and pushed on her door. That was another surprise. The doors opened inward? Damn that, too. He’d have to reimburse the hotel for both doors, after all. What did he care? He had funds. He could probably buy the hotel and the block of real estate it sat on. It didn’t really matter. All that mattered was getting his mate in her room, seeing some of this restrictive clothing removed – from both of them – and then getting buried in her sweet flesh.
Oh…hell.
The dawning realization of the card slot and door machinations had almost worked at controlling what had seemed uncontrollable. He’d managed to stand erect. He’d lowered his fists from his chest, forced his hands open, and then watched his fingers fumble at fastening the lowest button on his suit coat. The coat actually helped camouflage the size of his erection. Good. He didn’t wish the lust he suffered known just yet. Maybe these menswear designers did know a thing or two about the masculine physique after all.
“You coming?”
She looked down the hall at him to ask it. Her voice sweet. Her lashes fluttering. He thought his heart stopped. No. That was what happened to hers, because it was immediately echoed in his chest. Because they matched. It had to be the same thing she experienced. Exactly.
He skimmed the span between them, arriving almost before their hearts had resumed a ragged rhythm. She was agitated, too? It was too much to absorb. Her eyes were wide. Probably at his speed. Maybe at his proximity. He didn’t care. She slid a hand along the inner wall, keeping her eyes glued to his. A lamp flared somewhere in her room, showing her movement had been to find the light source switch. She smiled up at him. Just slightly. Innocently. She caught her lower lip in her teeth after the gesture and added to his torment. And then a blush bloomed across her cheeks, sending a solid roar of sound through his ears.
“I’ll…just be a moment. Okay?”
He thought that’s what she whispered as she ducked through a door that must contain her bathroom area. Anything else was absurd. Her room was a far cry from the luxury and spaciousness of his. The penthouse suite contained all sorts of rooms, one including a grand piano and wet bar, while one s
leeping chamber had an oversized King bed with so many pillows and plush comforters it was hard to find the mattress. Her room seemed almost like an afterthought in comparison.
KayNan advanced into the one room, looking over two double-sized beds, a long dresser with a television on it, a plush armchair tucked beneath a writing desk that held the aforementioned lamp and a landline telephone. Over in the far corner beside the floor-to-ceiling window was another chair, this one fashioned with high arms and back; thick with cushions. The color scheme and fabric matched those in his suite but there the similarity ended. The chair had a footstool before it, padded with the same design. A laptop sat on the footstool, the top open, but the screen black. A blue, pin-dot light kept appearing, showing it was in stand-by mode.
KayNan’s breast pocket vibrated suddenly, surprising him. He shoved against the bottom of the pocket, sliding a slim cell phone out. A thumb motion slid the front open, making a receiver. He put it to his ear.
“Yes?”
“KayNan! Thank goodness!”
“Nigel?”
“Yeah. Listen. You may not have much time. We’ve got trouble.”
“We?”
“Beethan and crew are already in transit. I had a brain-fart earlier or I’d have called sooner.”
“A what?”
“Never mind. I didn’t put your little sweetie on an alert until now. It’s all my fault.”
“What is?”
KayNan heard the door opening behind him. His mate was coming out of the bathroom. Maybe she’d even taken some of that clothing off. And Nigel just wouldn’t quit talking.
