by L Ann
“No! No No No, don’t you even think that. Not even for a second,” Hawk pulled her into his arms and kissed her face tenderly. “You had no way of knowing those people would do what they did. And truth be told, you probably saved me. If I had been there they might have killed me too,” A small lie. If he’d been there that bunch would have been detected a mile away. But it spared her feelings, and she most definitely shouldn’t feel guilty for it.
“But that’s why. I was in no condition to deal with us after that. I was too consumed with rage and grief,” he told her. “It took me weeks to get my emotions settled again, then to get Abner’s and his daughter’s affairs in order. I didn’t even go back to our place for a month.
“But when I did the first thing I saw was your figurine. I thought about you, Dally. Wondered where you were; what you were doing. But it’d been too long, and I had no idea where to start looking. And there was the family thing. I had to avenge the family. And that’s what I’ve been doing the past thirty-plus years.”
"Don't lie to me, Jez," Magdalena said, her arms coming up to wind around his waist. "We both know you could have stopped it happening."
“Maybe. Maybe I wasn’t meant to. In the grand scheme of things, maybe what happened between us was destined...” Hawk pulled her closer, nuzzling her cheek. “And you smell fantastic, Magdalena,” He began planting kisses along the line of her jaw. Small ones at first, but gradually becoming stronger, sucking and nibbling at the flesh of her neck and shoulder.
Magdalena's head turned to the side, eyes closing. "Please don't toy with me, Jez," she whispered.
“And what...” He began to kiss his way back, “...would give you...” stopping at her cheek “...the idea...” to turn her face to meet his eyes “...that I’m not serious?”
Her reply was forestalled by his mouth on hers and the pressure of it brought emotions and feelings long locked away bursting through the self-made barriers she had erected. Her mouth opening beneath his was like a flower opening towards the sun and Hawk took advantage of it to slide his tongue inside to taste the sweetness he knew lay within.
And sweet it undisputedly was. That, in fact, had always been one of the things about Magdalena he found particularly - no, make that exceptionally pleasing. The way she tasted. ‘A kiss like candy’ he had always been fond of telling her. Dally, of course, had always blown it off as pre-coital fluff or post-orgasmic delirium. Truth be told, it was probably more the latter than the former, but lent itself more to feelings and sensations at middle ground.
Magdalena was the only woman he had ever been with whose kiss alone could turn his pilot light up to full, roaring blaze. Even now (despite his attempts to take things slow) he was squirming, hands shaking as he fumbled with the bottom of her t-shirt and the waist snap of her jeans.
"No!" Magdalena's sudden move away from him took Hawk by surprise. She took a couple of steps backwards. "I will not be a replacement for whoever was in your bed earlier!"
“A replacement?” Hawk almost shouted from both surprise and agony. “Dally... Magdalena... that’s not what this is all about,” Not exactly, he thought. “I gave her a ride. In the motorhome,” He quickly clarified, “We took turns... Took turns driving, I mean. She drove, and I slept. Then I drove, and she slept. We were never in the bed at the same time.” Not this one, at least.
Magdalena took another step backwards. "I know you. You would never have had her here unless you thought there was something more. How long ago did she leave? I'd put money on it being no earlier than today!"
Hawk sighed. “And you’d be right. But not for the reason you think. I just got into town today. We drove a straight shot, no stops, from Reno to Seattle. And when we got here I dropped her off at her friend’s house in Bellevue. That was four hours ago.”
"And if she'd agreed to stay?" Magdalena shook her head. "You wouldn't drive a girl this far without expecting something in return, Jez."
Hawk stared at her for a long moment, barely able to grasp what he was hearing. It was amusing. To a point. On the other side of that point, however, he was beginning to grow weary of it.
“First...” He held up three fingers and ticked off one “...if you will recall from the conversation we just had out there beside the sofa. I was coming to Seattle anyway. She was going in the same direction, so I gave her a ride. Two...” he ticked off the second finger, “I will give you that. If she had agreed to stay, maybe she would still be here. But she didn’t. In her own words, being with someone would complicate her life right now. So, I dropped her off and we said goodbye. And three... let me repeat the question I asked earlier. We haven’t seen each other in over thirty years, so why’s it matter who I might or might not have slept with?”
Magdalena gave a tired sigh. "That's not what I mean, and you know it." She rubbed a hand over her eyes. "It just seems like... like you're making do." She hung her head, despondent.
Hawk sagged with regret. He took a quick breath and reached out to pull her close, winding his arms around her. “One thing hasn’t changed in the last thirty years,” He almost laughed. “You still know how to let the air out of my balloon with a word...”
He placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head up. “Like you said earlier, I missed you, Dally. I wish I could make you understand. I never hated or blamed you for staking me. And in all these years, I don’t think an entire day went by that I didn’t think about you. Wonder where you were; what you were doing. Wonder if you were still alive and if I would ever see you again. If I had someone else in here with me, I would be making do. But being with you, right now, it’s like coming home.”
"You always did have a sweet turn of phrase, Hawk," her tone told him she didn't truly believe him, but she didn't pursue it, instead sliding her fingers beneath his shirt and offering her mouth to him once more.
She was alone when she woke, and it put Magdalena instantly on edge. It wasn't the first time Hawk had used her inability to stay out of his bed against her before - usually when he didn't want to discuss something - and now she began to question his motives. Pushing herself upright and sliding out of the bed, she wrapped herself in the bed robe that lay on the floor and padded out into the main living area.
With a clouded expression, she realised there was still no sign of Hawk and, deciding it was his way of telling her he had business elsewhere, she moved back into the bedroom to dress and leave.
What Happens In Vegas...
CHRIST, SHE LOVED VEGAS. IN ALL ITS SEEDY DECANDENT GLORY, Morgan had never found a place more worthy of the lowlife scum that it seemed to attract. From mob bosses to casino addicts, and wannabe-actresses to high class hookers - they were all there for the same thing. To make as much money as they could. The majority of them would never achieve their desire, but for the odd one, lady luck would come a-calling and make their life change.
Lady luck! She stifled a smile as the term slid through her mind. Her last mark had called her that - his lucky charm, his muse, his lady luck. At least he had done, right up to the moment she'd angled the stake at his heart. Morgan couldn't help the laugh that burst from her throat, bubbly, infectious - causing those people nearby to turn and look at her curiously. They saw exactly what she wanted them to see, a young casually-dressed girl into the gothic scene, wearing black soft-leather hipsters, a shiny black pvc top and a pair of scruffy doc martin boots. A slave bangle rode high on one arm and an intricate henna pattern curled down the other. Her jet-black hair was loose and curled unruly around her face and shoulders.
Yes, she thought, lady luck indeed. Her lips twitched again, reliving the moment. She'd worked that job for almost two weeks, waiting for him to be comfortable around her. Usually her jobs didn’t involve interacting with the marks, but that one had been different. He’d been on edge, looking over his shoulder for the Nikaran Prince to finish the job he’d started a month earlier – a job that had bounced from one disaster to another as Taz I’Ane and Fallon Wylde had turned San Diego into a ter
ror-driven nightmare. The night she’d finally been able to finish the job, her mark had spent the night with some other woman and thought she wouldn't hear about it. How wrong could a man be. He'd come back to his haven, in the early hours, reeking of her scent, tanked up on alcohol-filled blood and she had used that to her advantage. She'd listened to him blather about how much he loved her, needed her, couldn't live without her and the luck she’d brought him. Damn right, asshole! She didn't kill him, immediately, just left him lying in the pool of his own blood with a stake mere millimetres from his heart –in a location no one would ever find him. It took the stake an hour to slip the remaining distance and finish him. Thought you were safe from the reach of House Nikaras, did you? Once she’d made certain he was dead, she'd walked away, not looking back.
A hand sliding over her buttocks brought her thoughts back to present day and she slanted her gaze leftwards to find a man chancing his arm... literally.
"Hey baby," he slurred and she rolled her eyes.
"You can't afford me," she told him, easing her body away from his.
"How'd you know that?"
She arched one eyebrow. "Do you want to live through the night?" She waited for his uncertain nod. "Then you really can't afford my fee." She leaned closer, loving the way his scent turned from lust to sudden fear. "Because, believe me, the minute we were alone I'd kill you for sure."
She continued her walk through the casino, leaving the drunken man open-mouthed behind her. She loved doing that. Mortals were so easy to scare, they had so much to be afraid of after all. Little did they know that the one thing they should fear most was something they didn't even know existed, something that lived right under their noses for the most part.
She paused for a second at one of the blackjack tables, considering whether to take five minutes to play a hand or two then caught the scent of two vampire males - both of whom were watching her - she decided against it and moved on. Were they connected to her last mark?, she wondered. Only one way to find out, she gave a mental shrug and changed direction, heading toward them.
The two vampires had been nothing more than a couple of low-life thugs hired by her mark’s men to track her down. She had nothing to fear from them, and they had everything to fear from her. She had convinced them to come outside with her and despatched them without a second thought - the price of trying to take something she wasn't willing to give.
Afterwards she had wandered around the gaudily lit streets aimlessly, her mind occupied with what she should do next. Her decision came in the early hours of the morning and she returned to her hotel room to change.
~*~
Taz had checked out, chatted up and discarded at least four different women since he'd arrived. Angry and frustrated after his latest fight with Zuron, he needed something to pass the time, to vent his ire on even. Yet each woman he chose lacked a certain something. And then she arrived and he knew that, for tonight at least, he had to have her.
His eyes never left her as she moved through the shadowy club, caught the barman's attention and bought a vodka and coke. His satisfaction with his choice grew when she began to dance. With the way she was moving, he just knew she'd be a handful.. and a handful was just what he needed. Biding his time, he continued to watch as men approached and left, unsuccessful in their attempts to gain her attention and the space around her grew. Draining his glass, he picked his moment and then moved towards her. He angled behind her, confident that she would not hear his approach and sure enough, she never acknowledged his presence for the full five minutes he stood close behind her.
She didn't realise there was anyone close to her until she felt his arm slide around her from behind, hand running across her flat stomach and curving over her hip and then pulling her back firmly against him. Morgan stiffened and his arm tightened in anticipation of her attempt to twist and pull away. Growing still, she waited on his next move and was rewarded by a soft chuckle close to her ear and the hand on her hip moving upwards to caress the bare flesh between the waistband of her skirt and her top. At his touch and the feel of his breath against the side of her neck, she couldn't stop the shiver that ran through her body.
When she melted back against him and tilted her head to offer him her throat, Taz felt a pang of disappointment at her acquiescence. A disappointment that was short-lived, followed as it was by the sharp pain caused by her stamping her three inch heel into the top of his foot.
Taz winced, but hid his discomfort behind a smirking grin. "Violence, the first refuge of an aroused woman. Forgive the audacity. You don't look familiar. We have never met before tonight...But that shouldn't stand in the way of us getting better acquainted, Miss...?"
"Violence, the first warning from a woman who has no intention of being mauled by a drunken asshole in the middle of a dancefloor," she responded in a flat tone, knowing he would hear her perfectly well above the music.
"Drunken?" Taz's grin widened as he held up one hand, as though on the verge of reciting an official oath. "Haven't had more than one glass."
Fully aware that she could not break his hold on her - his reaction to her attack on his foot had proved that - Morgan didn't try to turn and look at him. "So you can't even blame drunkenness for such loutish behaviour? I'm sure your parents must be so proud."
Taz laughed. "Believe me...one of my parents would be ecstatic. But you're right," he finally released her, waited for her to turn and executed a gracious bow. "Please accept my most sincere apologies for my behaviour. And allow me to make amends. Have dinner with me."
"No." Morgan didn't even look at him as she stepped around him.
Taz immediately slid to block her path. "Fine. Maybe dinner is just a bit too involved for a first introduction. A drink then?"
For a second he thought she was going to attempt to walk straight through him, then she stopped and finally raised her eyes to his. Her full lips showed nothing remotely resembling a smile as her eyes slid from his head downwards and then back up again. "No," she repeated.
"Ok...Then I'll drink while we talk. How about that?"
"Are you an imbecile? What part of no is beyond your comprehension?"
"Imbecile? No," Taz's grin became a full-fledged smile. "Interested, yes. Very much so. And if that reaction I got, a second before you bruised my foot, is any indication, so are you. Or at least you could be."
Morgan's expression didn't change. "You're imagining things."
He couldn't come out and say it, of course. But her scent told him otherwise. And on the subject of her scent. Scents-plural. They were doing things to Taz’s senses; to a particular aspect of his body chemistry as well as his mind; something he hadn’t experienced in quite some time.
This one was no watered-down, all-fluff and air, filly. She was a stallion. A thoroughbred. No way was he letting her get away.
Taz met her gaze dead-on and smiled. And I’m not alone in that respect, Pretty Lady.”
"Oh? What am I imagining? Other than you not being in front of me. Or is that just wishful thinking?"
"How about finding out what it was that caused that shiver?" Taz eased his way closer, eyes never once leaving hers.
Morgan didn't move. "More wishful thinking on your part, I believe."
"I won't deny that," Taz admitted. "But I also know it's true, and so do you."
"I know nothing of the sort," she retorted, moving to step around him. His arm came out blocking her way once again. "Look," she said in exasperation. "There has got to be hundreds of women in here who'd love to fall into your arms. Go pick one of those to bother!"
"And they are just that - many among hundreds," Taz countered. "I sincerely doubt any of them can hold a candle to you."
"I sincerely doubt it too, but you'll have to make do." She reached out to move his arm, then hesitated and realised she was nervous about touching him. The reaction she had denied earlier had surprised her and Morgan wasn't sure if she wanted to experience it again.
"What was that you were sayin
g about imagination?" Taz said, watching her hand hovering above his arm.
With a hot-eyed glare, she grasped his arm and braced herself against... nothing.
Taz laughed. "That reaction you didn't have earlier only happens when I do this," he murmured and stroked two fingers down her bare arm, laughing delightedly when she couldn't hold back her flinch. "And I'm sure you can't see it..." he said, bending slightly so that she could hear him, "but just being this close to you does the same thing to me."
Morgan was oblivious to the fact her fingernails were biting into his arm. "No," she said. "It's just a static build up or something."
"Or something," Taz murmured.
"No." Morgan said firmly.
"No?" He touched her arm again, only this time his whole hand slid over the curve of her shoulder, his gaze never leaving her face. Morgan stood stiffly, fighting against the shudder that threatened to betray her as her mind questioned herself loudly on just how long it had been since anyone had touched her.
"No? Oh well. Suit yourself," Taz sighed and released her. "Guess maybe I should go bother someone else. Seems my attentions are definitely unwanted here." He turned then, without another word, and left the dance floor.
Morgan watched him go. He didn’t leave the lounge, opting instead to sit at an empty table. An imperious wave had a server dashing across to him and, within minutes, he had a glass full of an amber liquid – one he raised in salute in the direction where Morgan stood staring.
An hour passed and Taz watched her as she rebuffed one interested man after another. Each time an unsuccessful suitor moved away, their eyes would lock and he’d smile and raise his glass and, somehow, it became a shared amusement.
Eventually, he rose once more and crossed the room to where she sat. He removed the glass from her fingers, took her hand in his and drew her out of the overcrowded bar. She followed him without argument, her fingers curled around his, until they were in the lobby.
