Her bedroom door opened, and the group fell silent. Quentin’s steps drew near, and the hair on the back of her neck rose. He was coming straight for her. Darcy stiffened and darted a glance at Joe.
His face remained impassive, but his fists clenched.
Quentin’s hand fell on her shoulder. “Missed you when I woke up, love.”
Darcy closed her eyes. She didn’t need to see the faces of the men she worked with to know their reaction to his little bombshell.
“That’s enough.” Joe’s voice cut through the silence like a knife.
Quentin walked around the sofa and took a seat beside her.
Did he not know how close he was to being dusted? Darcy willed him to shut up.
Instead, Quentin stretched his arm along the back of the sofa and tugged on her hair. “What’s for supper?” he asked, his expression guileless.
“Phil’s wife, Bets, made enchiladas. I’ll check the oven,” Max said quietly and left the room.
“I better help.” Darcy rose to follow him out.
Quentin’s hand fell to the small of her back. “This isn’t finished.”
She didn’t reply and headed for the kitchen. As soon as the door swung closed behind her, she let out a deep breath.
Max’s angry gaze sliced her to the bone. Normally easy-going with her, he stared, his expression hard-eyed and accusing. “What the hell were you thinking, Darse? If you needed nailing, why didn’t you turn to Joe? He’s been in love with you for years.”
Hearing Max’s disappointment made Darcy feel about a foot tall. “I didn’t know how Joe felt. I didn’t see it.”
“Is it just about the sex?”
She felt shame wash over her cheeks. What would he say if he knew she’d screwed both of them—within only minutes? “Maybe, at first.”
Max raked a hand through his dark brown hair. “It’s none of my business, but we’re like family. This isn’t gonna sit well with the rest of the guys. You do what you have to, but just remember—interspecies relationships don’t work.” He hit the swinging door with his knuckles and left the room.
Darcy busied herself, removing the pan of enchiladas from the oven and the salad Phil had brought from the fridge. Although her back was to the door, she knew who stepped into the kitchen next. The rumble of voices in the living room grew louder.
“I hope you have something other than that mess in the pan to feed me,” Quentin said.
She opened a utensil drawer and extracted a spatula, then slammed the drawer shut. “There are a couple steaks, nice and bloody, in the fridge. Help yourself.” She turned to face him. “Are you trying to get yourself exterminated?”
“I warned you.” His voice radiated quiet fury. “You’ve bathed, but his scent is still all over you.”
“It won’t work between us, Quentin,” she said quietly.
“Because the guys are mad as hell at me?”
“No. Because there’s no future for us.”
Quentin crossed his arms over his chest. “As long as you remain human, there certainly isn’t.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you saying what I think you are?”
His blue gaze bored into hers. “I can give you eternity.”
“To spend it with you?” she asked, incredulous. “How arrogant you sound. Do you think all humans aspire to immortality?”
“Don’t you? And don’t tell me you haven’t ever considered it.” His eyes narrowed. “I won’t believe you.”
Darcy stopped herself from denying it. What he said was true, especially since she’d met him. “That wouldn’t change how I feel. Would it?”
“It’s a risky process, I admit. More humans die than make the change. And some aren’t the same after they turn. Some lose their souls.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a choice.” She didn’t know why, but she felt close to tears. His argument only strengthened her belief their relationship wasn’t meant to be. She turned and opened a drawer to pull out the silverware.
Quentin’s arms circled her waist and pulled her close to his body. “I’ll make you want me more than him.”
Darcy fought the urge to surrender to his embrace.
“You can’t deny your attraction to me, and the dark and dirty things I do to you. Did he make you scream?” He grabbed her ass and squeezed. “Did you wriggle your little ass for him because you wanted it so bad you felt like you’d die of desire?”
Darcy’s breath grew ragged, but she refused to answer him. Her body was doing all the talking. Her breasts grew heavy and pointed, and her pussy was damp with her desire.
“Well, darling, you begged for my touch. Think about it tonight. Remember what I can make you feel. You’ll crave my hands and my cock. Before too many more suns rise, you’ll be mine.”
Chapter Six
‡
Two nights later, the team hit pay dirt.
The weather had turned stormy. High winds from the Atlantic whipped up six-foot whitecaps that had the most devout surfers heading north to Cocoa Beach to catch the waves, despite the chilly air.
Just after dusk, Phil radioed in that a group of young vamps were trashing a nightclub along the boardwalk.
Joe drove, with Darcy in the front seat. If Quentin was chafing at the distance Darcy had kept since the team discovered their dalliance, at least he had the satisfaction of knowing Joe hadn’t enjoyed the woman’s favors either. They’d both been shut out in the cold.
No matter how hard he’d tried to break through the icy barrier she’d erected, he’d failed. Darcy had repelled every advance. She slept alone on the sofa, even though he’d offered to return the use of her bed. He was secretly glad when she refused. Although he was tortured, surrounded by her scent, he wanted her to imagine him there—sleeping on her pink pillows, stretched across the mattress where they’d shared wicked delights. He hoped like hell she got as little sleep as he did.
They barely spoke except to discuss the evening’s business. Something had to give soon, and Quentin planned to be the nearest man when Darcy broke.
Joe, Darcy, and Quentin arrived outside the bar just as a man exploded through the plate glass window.
Quentin didn’t have to look closely to know the man had been drained dry first. “Perhaps I should go in by myself,” he said, his hand on Darcy’s arm.
Her scowl was fierce. “Do you think we haven’t faced a real rave before?”
Quentin bristled. Those were the most words she’d spoken directly to him all evening. “You want information, don’t you? If you go in with your bows cocked, you’ll turn them mute. No one will be in the mood to talk.”
A scream rent the air, and Quentin stepped ahead of Joe and Darcy to cut them off. The rest of the team was arriving for cleanup. He had to be quick. He tucked a stake into his sleeve. Then, letting his fangs slide into place, he entered the bar.
Four young vamps were inside, their T-shirts with Ron Jon surfer logos looking incongruous with their armored faces. They’d paired off and were dining on their newest victims. The bodies strewn between the tables were evidence of their rampaging bloodlust.
Quentin lifted his head and snarled, his deep growl alerting the vamps of his presence.
One of them, a lean, blond-haired teenager, lifted his head from the gaping wound of a woman who looked more dead than alive. “You’re on our turf. Move out,” he growled.
“You’re attracting undue attention, children. Did your sire not mentor you in the need for discretion?” Quentin said, with a disdainful sniff. “You lack finesse.”
The young vamp’s lips lifted in a snarl. “Don’t need it. This is a lot more fun. Now, move out, old man.”
Quentin raised an eyebrow. “I’ll let you live for another minute or two if you answer one question.”
The others raised their heads from their meals, their deep thirst forgotten in the challenge he had issued.
The blond, who must have been their leader, dropped the woman and stalked forward. When he was half a doze
n paces away, he launched himself at Quentin in a single impressive leap.
Quentin sidestepped the boy, who landed against a table, overturning it and several chairs. Watching the youngster attempt to untangle himself, Quentin reached down and staked the arrogant vamp through the chest. He disintegrated into dust, leaving only his rumpled jeans, T-shirt, and tennis shoes. Quentin turned back to the remaining three. “Now, about that question…”
The trio looked at each other and raised their hands.
“What the hell do you want to know?” another sun-bleached youth asked.
“Where can I find your sire?”
“The Master?”
Quentin snorted. Nicky really was reaching. “Nicky. Where do I find him? We’re old friends.” He took a step toward them.
As a unit, they backed away. “He has his own place, now. If you’re a friend, how come you don’t know?”
“I just arrived in town.” Displeased with their lack of candor, Quentin let his armor reform his face to indicate his impatience.
“All right, man. He’s got a place near here. In South Beach Park.” The vamp’s face morphed. He couldn’t be more than sixteen, and beardless. “You aren’t gonna tell him we left a mess, are you?”
“I’m wondering how you propose to rectify this situation.”
“Huh?”
“I’m sorry to say you won’t be leaving this place, except in a dustbin.”
Darcy and Joe stepped through the door, moving forward. More of the SU team members peered through the window, crossbows and spear guns aimed at the three.
“Shit!”
“Keep one alive,” Quentin said over his shoulder.
In an instant, two sets of clothing crumpled to the floor.
*
Dressed in black, they’d taken up positions behind the concrete block wall that enclosed the property on the beach side. The incoming tide lapped just feet away, and the smell of rain was in the air. Light poured from the windows. Music blared within, creating the atmosphere of a party in full flourish.
Hunkered down next to the gate, Quentin whispered, “Be sure to keep back the rest of the unit until I give the signal. They stink of gun oil. I can smell it from here.”
“We’re going in with you,” Darcy said.
“No, you’re not,” he replied, each word bulleted.
“Look, I know you’ve got a bug up your ass about the sleeping arrangements,” Joe said, “but Darcy and I were assigned as your shadows.”
“Darcy’s made it abundantly clear who’s in and who’s out,” Quentin said between gritted teeth. “We aren’t a team.”
“Fine.” Darcy laid a hand on Joe’s arm to hold him in place. “You go right on ahead, Quentin. We’ll try not to get in your way.”
“You’re staying put.”
She smiled, her teeth a white slash in the moonlight. “Of course. I always do what I’m told.”
“Damn stubborn wench,” he muttered.
“Pompous, arrogant asshole,” she replied, still smiling.
Quentin grimaced. “Darcy, keep clear of Nicky.” If Nicky knew what the girl meant to him…
“Time’s a-wasting,” Joe whispered then lowered the microphone on his headset to his mouth. “We’re going in.”
Quentin pushed open the gate and skirted the wall on the inside, keeping to the shadows and using the foliage of the palms and bougainvillea to hide behind as he crept along. Not that vampires couldn’t see into the darkness.
French doors opened with a spill of light onto a slate tile patio. A lone figure stepped outside and lit a cigarette. The flare of the lighter illuminated the face of the vampire they’d come to kill.
The hair on the back of Quentin’s neck rose. This was too easy.
“You may as well quit skulking in the bushes, Father. I see you received my message,” Nicholas Powell said.
Quentin heard Darcy’s gasp. Knowing he’d just dropped another notch in Darcy’s estimation, he straightened and approached the monster he’d created.
Darcy glanced at Joe. His face had hardened to stone.
It couldn’t be. Quentin couldn’t be responsible for creating this evil vampire. But she didn’t have time to consider the implications. They’d been made. She rose from her crouch and surveyed the courtyard. Her gaze lifted to the balcony above.
Two vampires trained automatic weapons on her and Joe. The gun oil Quentin’s keen sense of smell had detected hadn’t come from the SU team. Then the thought came unbidden—had Quentin set them up for a slaughter?
“I’m flattered, Quentin,” Nicky Powell said. “You’ve come all this way to see me. You and your friends must come inside.” The statement wasn’t an invitation. With an indolent wave of his hand, Nicky signaled to more vamps, who spilled out the doorway. “After you. But first, drop your weapons.”
Quentin raised the stake in his hand, and then laid it at his feet.
Joe and Darcy lowered their crossbows. Every bit of her willpower was summoned to abandon her weapon.
Not glancing behind him to see whether they followed, Quentin stepped through the doorway.
“Don’t be shy,” Nicky said. “Come inside and join the party.”
Darcy stepped onto the tile patio. As she drew abreast of Nicky, he held out his hand.
“I’ll take your headsets.”
Inside the house, it became immediately apparent a trap had been set. There wasn’t a human in sight, just five more vampires wearing unholy grins on their distorted faces.
“So, what do you think of my humble abode?”
Darcy had just met the dark-haired vampire, but his voice, low and sardonic, already grated on every last one of her nerves. She glanced about, checking for exits and items that could be used as weapons if her last resort was taken from her. Slate tile covered the floor, and unless the beige leather sofas could be used to batter a vamp to the ground, only the glass and chrome tables offered any possibilities.
Quentin stood in the center of the living room, and had yet to look her way. But, his stiff posture and neutral expression reassured her that at least he was as much a victim as she.
“So, what do we have here? GI Joe and Jane?” Nicky circled them. He halted in front of Darcy and looked her up and down, his dark eyes smoldering.
Leanly built and muscular, the man was fit, and Darcy didn’t doubt Nicky would prove difficult to best one-on-one. She glared, hands clenching at her sides.
“Is she your woman?” Nicky turned to Quentin, one eyebrow raised.
Quentin remained silent.
“Hardly seems your type. She’s rather plain. And without curves to feast on,” he said, his voice silky. “Rather like taking a boy. Do you like boys, Quentin?”
Quentin snorted. “Just for breakfast.” He nodded to the vamps circling the perimeter of the room. “Seems your appetites are decidedly male these days.”
“I learn from my mistakes. Women are strictly for nourishment.” He walked behind her and trailed his fingers down her throat. “They make lousy soldiers.”
Darcy forced herself to remain still, although she knew her escalating heart rate betrayed her alarm. Her gaze sought Quentin’s, but his stare remained on Nicky.
“Monica was a little unstable,” Quentin replied.
“Fancied herself in love with me, can you imagine? How are our friends Dylan and Emmy, by the way?”
Quentin shrugged. “I haven’t heard from them.”
“I must give them my regards when I see them next. I didn’t have the chance before I left Seattle.” He shrugged. “I was rather rushed.”
Darcy wondered how long the glib conversation would last. At this point, she couldn’t have gotten a word past her lips.
Nicky’s fingers continued to trace her neck and jaw.
She swallowed.
“So, when will the rest of the team arrive?” Nicky asked so casually, a moment passed before the words registered.
She stiffened and feared her reaction had given
away something important.
A little smile curved the corners of Quentin’s lips. The smirk she’d come to love.
From the front of the house, a short, staccato burst of gunfire sounded.
Quentin’s gaze shifted to Darcy, and he lifted his chin.
Darcy took it as a signal to act. She grasped Nicky’s finger and bit.
“Bitch!” He punched her in the back, over the kidneys.
Despite the Kevlar jacket she wore, Darcy nearly passed out. But, she didn’t let go of his finger.
In a blur of motion, Quentin leapt toward them.
Darcy opened her mouth, releasing Nicky and rolling away. The sound of breaking glass and wood came from behind her, but Darcy continued to roll until she reached the back of one of the sofas.
When she made it to her feet, she saw Quentin and Nicky were out of sight, although the sounds of their scuffle could be heard from the patio. She reached for the 9mm handgun strapped beneath her vest at the small of her back—and for the stake inside her boot. A gun might not kill a vampire, but a head-shot could incapacitate one long enough to stake it.
Gunfire continued to explode, so near the sound was deafening. To her right, one of Nicky’s minions inside the room had an AK-47 trained on a sofa Joe must have hidden behind. When Darcy looked to her left, she found herself staring down the barrel of a Glock.
The vamp holding the weapon wore a gleeful expression. “Question is, should I shoot you first, and then suck your blood?”
Darcy held up her hands, her weapon pointing toward the ceiling. “Question is, do you have the safety off?”
The youth’s gaze dropped to his gun.
Darcy fired a round through his forehead, and then staked him before he hit the floor. “The safety’s in the trigger, stupid.”
No time to gloat, she headed for an unarmed vamp, fired off a shot, and staked him. Another saw her coming and ran for the front door. Knowing the SU would catch him before he made it to the road, she turned to help Joe.
She saw his hand rise over the back of the sofa and fire several rounds toward the vamp who had taken cover behind the jutting edge of the fireplace.
Truly, Madly...Deadly (a vampire romance) (Night Fall Book 2) Page 7
