Evading (Regent Vampire Lords Book 4)

by K. L. Kreig

  “Why do you hate Kate so much?”

  “I don’t hate her.” Per se. She just didn’t care for her. And it wasn’t even that anymore. It was just…

  “Fine. Why do you dislike her so much?”

  Giselle took a sip of her straight Grey Goose before she quipped, “Is this like a Taylor Swift moment or something?”

  “Jesus. Drop the raving lunatic bitch act for ten minutes and have a real grown-up conversation for once, Giselle.”

  Ouch. That barb actually stung. She steeled her spine, but it felt a little melty under Sarah’s intuitive stare.

  “I don’t really dislike her. Not that much, anyway.”

  “Go on,” Sarah urged.

  “Go on? What is this exactly? I mean I talk to you a few times, do you a little favor by finding your long-lost family, and suddenly you think you can just ask prying, personal questions. What the fuck is up with that? Do you think we’re friends or something?”

  “Yes,” Sarah stated flatly. She sounded like she really meant it.

  “Well, we’re fucking not.”

  Sarah walked toward her, all the while spewing garbage. “We so are, and as far as I know, I’m the only female friend you have so you’d better not screw this up.”

  “I don’t need friends, little girl.”

  “Yes, you do.” Sarah slowly smiled. “I have your number, Giselle.”

  “And what number is that?” Giselle downed the rest of her drink in one swallow, slamming the glass tumbler on the marble countertop so hard she was surprised it didn’t shatter.

  “The right one. Stop getting off topic. What’s up with you and Kate?”

  “Why do you care?”

  Sarah crossed her arms. “Because she’s my sister, and believe it or not, you’re hurting her feelings.”

  Giselle laughed. “I don’t really give a shit if I’m hurting her sensitive little feelings or not.” But…she did. She was actually sorry the instant the words left her mouth and it wasn’t because of Dev. It was because they were intentionally mean and Kate had done nothing to deserve them. She never had. They may not be friends, maybe never would be, but Kate was always respectful of Giselle. Her love for Dev was boundless. She was good for him. Made him happy.

  “Okay, then. What about Dev. Do you care if you hurt him?”

  “You know I do.” She sighed. Knowing Sarah wasn’t going to leave until she had her say, she walked to the oak table and sat.

  “Hurting Kate hurts Dev.”

  Silence.

  “You know,” Sarah droned as she joined her at the table, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous. Not in the I-can-never-have-him-in-my-bed kind of way, but more in an I-want-what-she-has kind of way. Mate, baby, white picket fence.”

  Giselle stiffened, anger boiling again. But this time, it was at herself for being so goddamned transparent. Being a frozen, uncaring female was a helluva a lot easier than this right here.

  “But since you’re not the jealous type, then that certainly can’t be it, can it?”

  Giselle flattened her palms on the table, pushing herself up. “First, I fucking hate the color white. It’s not even a color for Christ’s sake. It’s the base all other colors start from. And second, I have a mate, I will have you know. But even if I didn’t, that’s not my issue with Kate.”

  Her issue was with her, not Kate. It always had been.

  There was a smug look on Sarah’s face she wanted to clean up. “And third?”

  “This ridiculous conversation is over,” she spat.

  She was almost home free when Sarah’s cheery voice chased her. “Good talk. I’m here anytime you’re up for more soul bearing. Maybe we can have a girls’ night next week?”

  Giselle punched her middle finger in the air and the ring of Sarah’s laugh followed her long after she walked away. Unfortunately, so did the smile on her lips as she reentered the living room to make amends with Dev, but more importantly…his mate. She may not have solved the bonding problem in the time she was gone, but there was one thing she could fix.

  It was time to stop projecting her feelings on everyone else around her. She didn’t know how that would work exactly, but she was willing to give it a try.

  14

  Mike

  Yesterday was a great day. Fantastic, really. They had accompanied Sarah and Rom to Bud Clark’s house—he was Sarah’s grandfather. Mike was still riding that high, thrilled as hell he’d been able to reunite Sarah with her family. It was a surprise he thought may put Bud six-feet under, given his age, but Bud beamed like a kid on Christmas morning. Happy to have a piece of his daughter he never knew existed. Giselle bitched the entire time and tried to seem unaffected. He knew better. He caught the small grin on her face while she watched the reunion, but scowled when she caught him looking.

  She wanted to be part of something bigger, no matter what she said, no matter how she acted. He was bound and determined to make that happen.

  “You seem nervous,” he soothed. Reaching across the console of his car, he plucked Giselle’s hand from her lap and twined their fingers together.

  She scoffed. “I’m not nervous.”

  He smiled. “I think I’m going to have to invoke a punishment for every lie you tell.” He brought her hand to his mouth, nibbling on her knuckles. She tried pulling away. He didn’t let her. “There’s nothing to be nervous about, baby.”

  Giselle finally pulled her gaze from the front window and looked over at him. Without thought, he cupped her cheek. Bringing her lips to his, he coaxed a kiss from her. He wanted her so fucking bad. Every time he laid a finger on her, he could think of almost nothing else but ripping her clothes off and burying himself inside her for eternity. A million nights with her in his arms would never be enough.

  But after the other night at Dev’s when she had her little meltdown, he felt her slipping away again. Oh, she apologized to Kate and Dev, contritely even, but she’d started her slow retreat. Barriers were being re-resurrected. He was bound and determined to sledgehammer them the fuck down once and for all. He needed to push. She needed to break. And it needed to happen soon because he was tired of sitting on the sidelines that had become his life.

  So he’d taken matters into his own hands. Today was part of that plan. Pushing her boundaries was part of that plan. Making her uncomfortable was part of that plan.

  “What kind of punishment are we talking about?” she purred against his lips.

  “Hmmm, I was thinking you would have to cook.”

  She leaned back, her perfectly smooth forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Cook? That sounds like more of a punishment for you than me.”

  Giselle did not cook. In fact, Giselle didn’t even know how to boil water until he showed her. She burned toast. Every. Single. Time. He couldn’t leave her alone in the kitchen for fear she’d burn his meager house to the ground.

  “Huh. You may be right there. I didn’t think that through. Guess I’ll just have to tie you to my bed until I figure out something more suitable, yeah?”

  Running a black-painted fingertip down the center of his chest, she hummed, “You could try.” Jesus, her simple tease dripped seduction. It pooled around his cock, drenching him in highly inappropriate thoughts. Like unzipping and having her suck him off right here, in front of his mother’s house.

  “I’m sure Ren or Dev would have something that could be used to hold you at my mercy.”

  Her finger froze just centimeters from his denim-strangled dick. Her eyes flicked back to his. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Leaning forward until he could mold her lips to his if he wanted, he said in an even, promising voice, “Try me, beautiful.”

  Her eyes closed in forfeit. “Fine. I’m nervous. Happy?”

  “Yes.” After a quick peck, he exited the car. She sat stock-still, staring straight ahead. They didn’t travel in his car much, but when they did, she liked to open her own door, insisting chivalry never really gained momentum as everyone claim
ed. She was a trip, his Giselle.

  Door open, he held out his hand. She looked at it as if it would bite but tentatively took it. As soon as she stood in front of him, he backed her up against the cold metal, taking her gorgeous face between his calloused palms.

  “You act like we’re heading to see the great and powerful Oz asking for a balloon ride home. She’s a sixty-five-year-old lady who’s hard of hearing, loves Wheel of Fortune, and plays a mean game of bridge every Tuesday night at the senior center. You could eat her for lunch.” He laughed at his unintentional joke. “But don’t. Please.”

  That cracked a smile from her. “But she’s your mother. The most important woman in your life and I’ve…” Her eyes shifted over his shoulder, staring at his mother’s simple home.

  “You’re the most important woman in my life, Giselle. Now what are you afraid of?” he coaxed softly.

  Their gazes met again. He saw insecurity swimming around, making nice little laps that rippled her ocean blues. He felt it, too. In fact, every day he spent with her, he could feel her emotions stronger than the day before. He wondered if it was the same for her. “I’ve never met a mother before. And I’m not exactly the type of girl you take home to Mama.”

  The grin on his face felt like it stretched to the next county. She wanted his mother to like her. Giselle actually cared what another human being thought of her. She’d come so damn far.

  “She’s gonna love you, baby. Come on.” Before she had a chance to protest, he grabbed her hand and dragged her up the cracked driveway. When Edna Thatcher answered the door within five seconds of his knock, he knew she’d been watching them from the dining room window.

  “Mom, hi.” He enveloped her slight five-foot-two frame into his large six-foot-two body, hugging the woman he hadn’t seen in far too long. She looked older but good. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her until just now. “Mom”—he snuck an arm around Giselle’s waist and pulled her close—“this is Giselle.” He wanted to say, “my soon-to-be wife,” but he didn’t dare spring that on her in front of his mother. She was already stressed enough.

  Giselle stiffly stuck out her hand, mumbling politely, “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Thatcher,” but his mother wasn’t having any of that. She was a hugger, that one. She reached out and tugged Giselle into her, wrapping her tiny arms around Giselle’s tiny waist. He had to stifle a laugh when Giselle looked over her shoulder at him in mock horror. Well, it probably wasn’t mock. It was actual horror. Outside of him, he knew Giselle didn’t like people to touch her.

  “Well, look at you. You’re stunning,” his mother praised after she’d finally released his future mate. And by released, she was no longer hugging her, but holding her by the arms, inspecting her from head to toe. Edna Thatcher was bold and brash and said it like she meant it. He got that from her.

  “Uh, thank you.”

  “Well, come on in now. I haven’t seen my boy for what seems like years and we have a lot of catching up to do.” She scurried into the house. They had no choice but to follow or be left behind.

  ____________

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that,” Giselle chastised him as they drove down the highway. An occasional streetlight would briefly infiltrate the darkness that surrounded them, making her glow like a fallen angel.

  Giselle was right. In hindsight, he probably should have warned her. In his thirty-three years, he hadn’t brought a woman home. Except once. He should have known his mother would call him out on it in front of her.

  “So,” Edna started, her hawk-like gaze pinned on Giselle, “do you know you’re only the second woman my Michael has ever brought home?”

  When Giselle’s panicked eyes flew to his, he’d felt his skin go a little hot and tried cutting his mom off at the pass. Too late. The words were already out before he could stop them.

  “Her name was Jamie, right? The one that went missing?”

  Fuck. Hashtag fail right there.

  “I’m sorry. I just got caught up in the excitement and I forgot.” He should have handled the whole thing differently. Told his mom not to mention Jamie. Even though his entire heart belonged to Giselle, Jamie was still an uncomfortable, unspoken wedge between them, which was why he needed to remove it. Just one more hurdle in their string they both had to jump.

  After they’d moved past the elephant in the room, aka Jamie, the rest of the afternoon and evening with his mom went fairly well. Giselle finally relaxed, smoothly answering every question Edna flung her way. His favorite was when she asked Giselle how old she was. Giselle winked and said, “Older than I look.” His mom whispered her approval in his ear as they left. While he didn’t need it, it still felt good. He knew his mother would love her.

  Giselle never responded to his apology, so they drove in silence the rest of the way home. An hour later he pulled into his driveway and shut off the car. They both sat, unmoving.

  “Do you still love her?” Giselle asked with a worried breath.

  His Giselle was a paradox of every sort.

  Sin and salvation.

  Sarcasm and sincerity.

  Fire and ice.

  Cocky and insecure.

  He had a feeling he’d be spending the rest of his life uncovering the rest of them because they ran far and deep.

  Turning in his seat, he seized the back of her neck. He handled her roughly, yanking her close until his hot, angry breaths washed over her. He hoped she felt this twist deep in her gut. He hoped his rage at even that stupid-ass thought poured through her veins and scalded her like it did him.

  “Fuck no, I don’t still love her. I. Love. You. Giselle. Only you. It will only ever be you. When are you finally going to accept that what we have here is meant to be and you’re all I’ll ever want until my dying fucking breath? What do I have to do to make you believe that? Trust that?”

  He should take her inside, pin her to the couch, and sit on her until she vomited every single insecurity that rotted her insides and crushed her belief in them. He should force her to bond with him right this fucking instant so she could never be rid of him. But instead, he unbuckled his belt and lowered the zipper on his jeans with his free hand.

  “What are you doing?”

  Hefting her over the console, in one angry swipe, he pushed aside the crotch of her panties, thankful she was wearing a skirt, and plunged deep in one hard cruel thrust. He hadn’t even checked to see if she was ready. She wasn’t.

  “I’m fucking you, what does it feel like I’m doing?” His growl was a near roar. “And I’m going to fuck you every fucking minute of every fucking day until you believe every fucking word I’ll ever say to you is the truth.” With one hand firmly wrapped around her neck and the other bruising her hip, he pumped into her viciously. He was rougher with her than he’d ever been before, but by the way her breaths hitched and she dripped down his cock, she wasn’t hating it.

  “I love you, you got it?” he rumbled in her ear.

  He felt her nod against his cheek but it wasn’t good enough.

  “The words, beautiful.”

  “Yes,” she panted.

  Already the telltale signs of her orgasm loomed. Her tight, silky walls fluttered. Her throaty moans got louder.

  “You’re mine forever. Say yes.”

  “Yes, yes.”

  Yeah, he had her exactly where he wanted her. Lifting the hand from her hip, he cradled her face. “We are destined mates, yes?”

  Her wild, glowing eyes widened in surprise, but she never let up her pace. She was so damn close, pushing him to the brink with her.

  When she nodded, he barked, “Words.” He’d be damned if he’d let her leave this car without the knowledge that he knew she was destined to be with him and only him.

  “Yes.” It was only a soft puff of air, but all that mattered was she said it.

  “And in the very near future, we are going to bond, Giselle. I am going to drink your blood and become yours and you will become mine.”
/>   Her body slowed; he could tell she was getting ready to protest.

  “The only word that better come out of that smart mouth of yours is yes.”

  “Mike,” she breathed. She was getting ready to rip his heart out. Fuck that. He wasn’t going to let her. No way in the pits of hell was he letting this exquisite creature get away.

  Tightening his grip and increasing the pace of his thrusts, he told her, “Yes, Mike, is all I want to hear right now. The rest we’ll work out later. Yes, Mike. Say it.”

  He slinked a hand between them and started circling her hard little clit. Within seconds, she was clenching around him, but he wasn’t going to let her go without some commitment first.

  “Giselle,” he commanded, easing his cadence, “answer me.”

  Her gaze focused on his. Finally, she whispered an agreeable “Yes, Mike.”

  Thank. Fucking. God.

  “Good. Now sink those beautiful fangs into me and drink until I’m coming all over you.”

  She stared at him a beat before complying.

  Holy God in heaven. “Giselle,” he groaned harshly. Nothing felt as euphoric as Giselle’s teeth deep in his flesh. As they both came undone in a backbiting, mind-bending climax, his stomach clenched at the thought of her essence running down his throat, pulsing through his arteries, and nourishing his soul.

  He craved it. He wanted to be bound to this woman who was now sagging and spent and trembling in his arms more than the revenge that once burned within him. Now he had to make sure she honored her promise because he knew his spitfire. She’d try to come up with some lame excuse not to.

  He was just waiting for it.

  15

  Mike

  He moved inside her. Slow. Steady. Their breathing got heavy. Their souls lost in each other. She tried to control the pace. He wouldn’t let her. He wanted to pour every ounce of love inside him into her. Everything he was, she owned. She had it all. Even his life. Jesus, he loved her more than he thought humanly possible.