by Jessica Lee
She loved the power. Such a rush. After having endured seventeen years under her father’s brutal hand, even though it was centuries ago, she always made sure she got what she wanted.
Always.
Never again would she allow a man to rule her, treat her as if she were less than the mud caked on their boot heels.
Her childhood years had been spent watching her so-called father shower his daughters with attention and fancy gifts. The rest of his hours had been spent taking out his anger, resentment, and disappointment on Marguerite. But her half-sisters hadn’t held a candle to the body and beauty she had possessed. And she’d learned to use it. Marguerite’s looks had never failed to get her what she needed from men. Her allure had even succeeded in capturing the eye of a young male vampire who, after becoming so enamored with her, shared his gift.
A gift she had been more than willing to receive.
The sound of Enrique’s labored breaths filled the room. She glanced over at his trembling body. She’d almost drained him dry—just for the hell of it—before allowing him to take a small sample of her. But it only took a small amount of her ancient blood to have him soaring. She smirked in the mirror, her pulse visibly pounding at her neck at the thought. Marguerite closed her eyes, relishing in the surge of power she’d sampled from the heart-shaped orb only moments before her minion had barged into her chambers.
The small sip Enrique had stolen from her body in bed, before she’d returned the favor, would burn like a raging fire in his veins, making it near-impossible for him to maintain control. A slave to his lust.
To her.
There had been only one vampire whose mind and body she couldn’t control: Kenric. That would soon change with the new source of power she’d found in Goran’s blood.
God, how she wanted Kenric back. Beside her. Joined. An indestructible unit. Exactly how it had been destined.
“You can leave now, Enrique,” she said offhandedly. “I’m done with you. Take care of the matter we discussed. I will not tolerate cowards in my ranks.”
Enrique slid off the bed onto wobbly knees. He quickly braced himself with the nearby bedpost while struggling to fit back into his black leather pants.
“Oh, and Enrique?” He stopped and turned. “Remember, there will be no release until you’ve earned my forgiveness. I don’t care who you fuck. It won’t matter. That aching dick is punishment for your earlier interruption.”
His face gave a visible flinch. She smirked at his obvious discomfort before adding, “Don’t look so worried, dear. It will go down…eventually, when my blood is finished with you. Or when you’ve convinced me you’re truly remorseful.”
Marguerite turned to face the mirror again, giving him her back as her dismissal. The door softly clicked as it closed behind him. Picking up her brush, she continued with her hair.
“It won’t be long now, Kenric,” she said to her reflection. “Your time away is almost over.”
Chapter Six
Emily studied Kenric’s expression for any sign of a hidden agenda.
He was good.
Really good.
Not a twitch.
She should run. Get the hell out of here before he could do whatever the hell he’d done to her again. But her curiosity and fatigue won the fight, and she found herself edging around the bed toward the sitting area. God grant me the nine lives of a cat, because my curiosity could get me killed.
Sinking into one of the large chairs, Emily wrapped herself in the sense of security the huge, soft leather arms provided.
Seconds later, Kenric was at her side.
“Take this,” he said as he neared. She glanced up. He held a navy blanket out to her. “If you’re cold.”
“Thank you.” Emily grasped his offering and draped the soft material across her before pulling a handful up to her neck. Crazy. Good-looking. And nice, too. What was she to do with that combo? Run. Get as far away from the toxic combination as possible. That was what she should do. She’d already done crazy more times than she’d like to admit, and had vowed to make Elizabeth Bay her fresh start. Without some guy messing up her life. She could almost hear the warning bells ringing away inside her head. So what was she doing plopped in the middle of this mad man’s den? She sighed. Listen to his story, Emily. Smile, then get out of here and forget this guy ever existed. He may have gorgeous eyes and a six-pack any woman would give their best pair of shoes to scratch. But he was a big heaping mess of trouble. She could smell it.
He paced before her. He reminded her of a lion crossing his den. Something she might have called a bit egotistical and a turn-off with any other man, but it was different with him. She found his profound confidence…provocative.
He pulled on a snug-fitting black T-shirt before taking a seat. She couldn’t help but notice how the sleeves strained around his upper arms. He massaged his neck with the palm of his large hand as he leaned back against the cushion. His T-shirt rode up, revealing his rippled abs. Her pulse quickened. She licked her lips and swallowed, trying to bring some moisture back to her throat. Why did he have to look so damn edible?
Finding a new position, Kenric released a long sigh, as if he couldn’t get comfortable. Emily glanced at his expression and caught him rubbing his hand across his face. He looked about as nervous as she felt.
“What I’m about to tell you will probably be hard to believe. There’s no easing into it. All I can do is just come out and say it.” He leaned forward on the loveseat and placed his elbows on his knees. “What you’ve seen tonight, the speed at which my injuries have healed and what happened to you in the ER, is because”—he cleared his throat—“is because, I’m a vampire.”
“A vampire?” Emily pushed herself from her seat, making sure to hold on to the corner of her blanket with one hand. Her legs wobbled. Grabbing the arm of the chair, she leaned against it and regained her balance.
“Come on,” she said, rolling her eyes.
He nodded. “It’s true.”
“So, what you’re trying to shovel my way is that you bit me, drank my blood, and that’s the reason why I don’t remember coming here?”
He nodded again.
“And the reason why your injuries have healed within hours, of what would normally have taken weeks of recovery time, is because you’re a vampire?”
Another nod.
“Come on,” she scoffed. “You can do better than that. Vampires are a myth, a scary bedtime story for children.”
“We’re real, Emily.”
His demeanor was calm. His face a rock. He acted as if he really wanted her to believe what he was saying.
“Okay,” Emily began. “Here are my two theories on the crazy story you just threw at me. Maybe you’re covering up for some new genetic research that the government doesn’t want us to know about. Or, maybe the biting thing is just because you’re a pervert. Either of these I might have believed. They’re better than the vampire story.”
“Then why do you feel so tired?” He lifted one dark slash of a brow. “And why don’t you remember coming home with me? Why did you help me at the hospital?” He leaned back on the love seat and propped one leg over the other. “Your memories are there. Did it not seem odd to you how you were drawn to help me, and why you did the things you did?”
“You drugged me.” She shrugged. “Somehow, you drugged me.”
“I was sliced open and flat on my back in a hospital gown. How would I have drugged you?”
His blue gaze turned smoky, his intensity enveloping. Her skin tingled. Not out of fear. No, she didn’t sense intimidation. More like sensuality, radiating like a beacon, and she was a ship sailing into port.
Emily pushed away from the arm of the chair, tossed the blanket onto the seat, and turned her back to escape his lure. She ran her fingers through her bed-head, shaking off the need to allow him to draw her into his madness. And his seduction. She’d been down that route before, caving in to a man’s charms and going against her better judgment. N
ever again.
She didn’t know what kind of bullshit he was trying to shove down her throat, but she wasn’t buying the whole vampire thing. As much as she hated to admit it, though, she didn’t have a logical explanation for anything that had happened last night.
It felt good to be upright, she realized, stretching her legs. The longer she stood, the steadier she became, and she needed to feel better. Fast.
Since he obviously wasn’t going to tell her the whole truth, he was going to tell her what he planned to do with her. She set her teeth and turned back around, ready to dig in and get some answers.
“I’m going to cut to the chase here. Answer me this: whether you’re a vampire or not, why did you bring me here?” She waved around the room. “You planning on finishing me off in private?” Her voice rose when he straightened in his seat, both eyebrows shooting up. “Am I right? Don’t play games.”
He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, his expression turning severe as he met her stare dead-on. She sucked in a startled breath and took a step back from his abrupt mood change. His eyes glowed with what appeared to be fire swirling around his pupils. Okay, now that…that does not look human.
“I will never feed on you again, or hurt you, Wildflower.” His deep voice rolled into an accent she hadn’t noticed before, catching her off guard. She clutched her abdomen. What was it with him calling her Wildflower? She was not a delicate little flower to be plucked or rescued. But whatever. She had no intention of hanging around long enough to be offended by what he called her.
“I am…truly sorry about what happened at the hospital,” he added. “I was thrown into a situation that left me with no recourse but to take what I needed to survive and get out of there as quickly as possible. I do not kill humans for their sustenance.”
She needed to sit down.
This could not be happening.
Emily lowered herself back onto the thick seat and tucked her legs underneath her. The man before her may be a freak of nature, or some kind of alien, but she sensed he meant it when he said he wouldn’t hurt her again.
Her heart rate descended from the ceiling with the revelation that she wasn’t about to be the next face on a missing-person flyer. Except…who would post one? Or for that matter, who’d really miss her? She’d been lying when she’d said earlier that a lot of people would be worried about her if she didn’t come home. The truth was, the only people who would miss her would be her coworkers when she didn’t show up for work tomorrow night. God, wasn’t she pathetic? She mentally kicked herself out of her own pity party.
“Okay, well.” She nodded. “That’s good to hear. And since you said you didn’t bring me here to finish the job, I’d like to go home now.” She rose, but Kenric got to his feet at the same time and reached out, halting her progress.
“You can’t go yet.”
“Why not?” She jerked her arm away from his hold. “I’m feeling better. So I’m ready to leave.” Emily hit him with her best glare. “Or am I your prisoner?”
“You think you’re better, but you’re not. And no, you’re not my prisoner.” He headed over to the phone sitting on the nightstand. Kenric picked up the receiver but looked back over his shoulder before dialing. “I need to get you something to eat first.”
Emily moved around to the back of the chair and observed him at the phone. If she could get a few minutes alone, maybe she could call someone for a ride. Except she didn’t know where she was.
“That isn’t necessary.” She dug her nails into the padding of the chair’s back. “Really, it’s not.”
He put a hand up, silencing her protest. “Michael, I need a breakfast tray prepared for our guest.” He hesitated a moment, listening. “Just prepare a sample of several different items. I’m sure she’ll find something that pleases her. I’ll be down to pick it up. No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll pick it up. Inform Guerin I’ll be down momentarily.”
What is he thinking? I don’t care how sexy he is or what crazy things his hint of a British accent makes me want to do to him. I’m so not staying around here waiting for breakfast. Her gaze stroked Kenric’s profile, her mind straying to places and parts she shouldn’t be traveling. You should be more worried about how you’re getting your ass out of here, Emily Ross, rather than how firm those big biceps would feel under your hand. And how soft his hair looks, and what those dark waves would feel like when you run your fingers through them. The man just bit you, and good Lord, he told you he drank your blood! He’s insane! You’re not that easy or foolish, girl.
“I can’t let you leave without protein for strength and something in your system to at least bring your blood sugar back up. Besides, there’s more I need to talk to you about.” He moved toward his dresser. “Would you like to take a shower?”
The oh-so-handsome and thoughtful lunatic pulled out a pair of his sweats and a T-shirt from the drawer and handed them to her. She took them automatically, but her clothes were staying on.
“Like I said, I’m really not planning on staying here that long,” she said, looking down at the offering.
“Take a shower. It’ll make you feel better.”
The pleading sound of his voice pulled her gaze back to his. It sounded as if he genuinely cared. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard a man sound as if he cared about what happened to her, or how she felt.
“By the time you’re finished,” he continued, “breakfast will be here.”
She considered her options, looked at the bathroom door, then back to Kenric.
“Don’t worry. I won’t bother you. You have my word. You can lock the bathroom door.” He moved closer, his bright blue eyes a striking contrast under the dense layer of raven eyelashes. “No one will hurt you here.”
He sounded so believable and sincere. And a shower did sound heavenly. On that thought, she moved with hesitant feet toward the bathroom. In the doorway, she glanced over her shoulder at the handsome, crazy man/vampire/whatever. He held his jaw tense, his body taut, but he didn’t make a move. She closed the door and dropped her forehead against it with a sigh. She believed him. Down deep, at the level where a woman responded to a man. But inside her head, where the mental scars from too many bad relationships had left deep grooves, she wasn’t so trusting.
Emily turned the lock. Click.
…
Laughter rolled out from behind the swinging door to the kitchen. There was no mistaking the baritone voice resonating from the other room. Guerin, his second-in-command.
Whatever had him so cranked up, more than likely, was at Michael’s expense. Guerin lived to give him a hard time. Michael could hold his own, though, and when necessary, he, too, could give as good as he got. Kenric highly suspected Michael enjoyed the bantering even more than Guerin.
Their laughter came to an abrupt halt as he stepped into the kitchen.
“Hey, man! Glad to see you’re no worse for wear.” Guerin sat his mug down and left his seat at the island, greeting him with a slap on the back.
Kenric murmured his thanks before heading over to the kitchen table and grabbing the seat at its head. Guerin joined him, sitting in the chair to his right.
“You are no worse for wear, right?”
Kenric saw Guerin’s eyebrows draw down in concern as he eyed the thick, jagged scar on the side of his neck.
“Yeah, man. No worse for wear,” Kenric answered with a dismissive wave of his hand, never meeting Guerin’s eyes. “I’m healing fine.” He palmed the still-sensitive raised flesh. Mentally…that was yet to be decided. He’d know more about how he was doing once he got past the situation he’d left showering in his bathroom, and the mess he’d left behind at Memorial. This type of screw-up wasn’t like him. Bringing a female into his quarters, even with the best of intentions, wasn’t like him. He couldn’t afford this kind of distraction. And Emily Ross was most certainly a distraction. Kenric inhaled a deep breath and tried to pick up the thread of the current conversation. Work—that’s exactl
y what he needed.
Heavy boots sounded in the hallway, moving in a steady procession toward the kitchen. Arran and Markus entered seconds later, one behind the other.
The temperature in the room took a nosedive at their entrance.
They crossed the expanse of the kitchen in full patrol gear, daggers strapped on their legs.
Markus was the last one to sit at the table. As always, his long, straight black hair was bound at his neck by a leather strap. Kenric shook his head. The vampire always kept everything perfectly in its place, including his hair and his well-groomed goatee.
Neither of the two spoke as they took their seats for the evening’s briefing before patrol. Nothing unusual. Social graces didn’t sit at the top of their list of priorities.
An unspoken understanding existed among the group. Both possessed an aura that screamed: keep your distance. They seemed to prefer it that way. Regardless, when it came to trusting someone to watch your back, they didn’t come any more loyal than Arran and Markus. That’s why they were Enclave.
“If you two run into trouble and need any backup, Logan will be covering operations tonight along with Elle,” Kenric said.
Arran and Markus lifted their chins in an affirmative reply. Arran’s eyes never left his cup while he poured a dose of dark, French-roasted brew. Straight up, no cream or sugar. He two-fisted his cup, drinking with his eyes closed. His blond hair hung loose at his shoulders, shadowing his face. Arran had been the last to join his Enclave, but with a blade, the vampire could already hold his own against any of his other warriors. In fact, he was probably the best.
“Are you going to fill us in on what the hell happened last night?” Guerin stared at him, then swung his gaze wide to include the other warriors at the table.
“That’s why I’m here,” Kenric said, but instead of heading straight into the immediate, uncomfortable details involving the female upstairs, he turned his attention to another important matter. “How much longer until the breakfast tray is ready, Michael?”
