by Michele Hauf
“Handsome man?” She took the key. The Mini Cooper logo was emblazoned on the black rubber fob.
“Guy had long bluish hair. He said you’d find the car in the parking lot. Is he your boyfriend?”
“Uh, no. Why do you ask?”
“Don’t you want him to be? He’s hot. All those muscles bulging under his shirt. He stood there like some kind of warrior.”
Zen searched her knowledge for the slang explanation of hot as related to a man, and had to agree. “He is, but he doesn’t believe in friends.”
“Uff-da, you’re going to have to change his mind about that one, sweetie. Have a nice day!”
“Thanks. You, too.”
Outside, the sun warmed her cheeks and the back of her neck. A breeze tickled the skirt fabric between her calves as she aimed for the little red car. It was an older model and the paint was matte instead of glossy. A dent creased the back quarter panel, and the silver trim was pitted in a few places. Overall, it looked roadworthy.
And she wasn’t going to look a gift cow, er—she couldn’t recall the proper animal for that one, so she dismissed the thought.
Sliding in and discovering it was a stick shift, Zen wondered if she could manage it. The truck had been an automatic. Just shift into gear, press on the accelerator and go.
Pulling the halo out of her backpack and hanging it from the rearview mirror as a sort of good-luck charm, she shifted and put her foot on the gas. And the car sputtered to a clunking stop.
A rap on the driver’s window alerted her to the man who stood outside. Zen rolled down her window without thinking. “I’m not sure how to drive this—”
He shoved a neon green flyer inside the car. “Party tonight! Only the coolest are invited.”
She took the paper and glanced over it. “You don’t even know me. How do you know I’m cool?”
Tall and blond, he looked Nordic, and Zen guessed him for a skier with his long lean lines and the athletic wear. Yet a beard didn’t hide the tattoos climbing up his neck. “It’s a guess,” he said. “You like to dance?”
She considered the question. “I’m not sure.”
“Come on, everyone likes to dance. We’ll see you tonight, sure? It’s just out of town. A map is on the back of the flyer. Come alone. There will be plenty of guys there to hook up with.”
“I don’t think I need to hook up.”
“That’s cool. Like I said, dance! It’s going to be a blast.”
“A blast sounds...like a blast.”
“You betcha.”
And he strode off across the lot, looking back a few times over his shoulder at the Mini Cooper.
Zen studied the flyer. The picture depicted a mansion more resembling a spooky Halloween haunt than a dance club. The guy hadn’t known who she was. And he would have said something if he had, right?
“Come alone?” she muttered.
She wasn’t sure if she should be creeped out by the invite or excited for the prospects. She couldn’t remember when she’d last had a blast. Certainly it must be overdue.
Hookups? Obviously she would get nowhere with Blade romantically. But did she need romance right now?
“A little dancing never hurt anyone.”
She set the flyer aside. She’d think about it.
Now to figure how to operate this vehicle.
* * *
No incident report was listed in the Tangle Lake Tattler, the local paper that was issued each Monday. The newspaper featured local news, which tended to be on the homey side. Mavis Butler had won best quilt design in the United States for the third year running. Red MacPherson was having a sale on taxidermy for the critters, including wolves.
Zen wondered what the local werewolves thought about that. And then she had to grin at her knowledge. How quickly she’d accepted that the realm of the paranormal existed.
She wondered if others were in the know. Probably not. If so, she would have never doubted Blade’s confession in the first place.
She thanked the librarian for the use of the microfiche and headed back to the car, which she had finally figured how to operate after three dry starts in the inn parking lot.
Had the bus driver even been aware he or she had hit a person? Should she have stayed on the scene after being hit? Probably. But at the time she had felt like getting out of there, not causing a scene. Staying away from notice.
Weird to think that now. What instinctual part of her had reacted that way? Almost protectively of her origins. Whatever those origins were. An angel who had fallen to the mortal realm and wanted to keep her secret? Or a demon who perhaps couldn’t shift to demonic form now because of the bump to her head.
Was her amnesia something that had resulted from her angelic fall?
Would certainly explain why angels are after me. But why demons?
While in the library she should have checked out the mythology section. Any details about the various species she could learn would be helpful. And yet, if she simply thought about it, mined the weirdly vast knowledge she seemed to possess, she knew a few things.
Angels did indeed fall, and most often it was to find their muse and procreate. Nephilim were the result. Nasty things, for sure.
Demons were a vast species, and while many occupied the mortal realm, many more lived in Daemonia. Zen wasn’t sure what Daemonia was. Something similar to Hell or Beneath?
Faeries were few and far between on the mortal realm, most choosing to live in Faery. They were a hard bunch to figure, and she hadn’t any more knowledge on them.
Witches were of all sorts and some were the Light and others the Dark. Warlocks were witches who had committed a grave transgression against their own.
“Wow,” she muttered. “I really do have a lot of information in this noggin. I just need to think about something and it comes to me. Maybe a little mindless entertainment tonight will put my brain in a new place. I wonder if Blade would like to go along with me?”
At the very least, she could ask him about the club. Get his two cents on it. He didn’t seem the club type. Definitely not the free-for-all dance type. He was more the blade-swinging warrior.
Which, she didn’t mind at all.
Realizing she didn’t have his phone number—and why should she, she didn’t own a phone—Zen decided to drive over to Blade’s place.
Chapter 11
“I don’t do clubs.”
Blade couldn’t guess why Zen chuckled at his statement, but she did as she wandered over to the window and pressed a palm to it. The sun beaming across her hair lighted her as if...she was an angel.
He shook off the image of her floating in the air with a glowing halo suspended above her head. If she was angel then why had her blood turned from blue to black?
“But you’ve been there before?” she asked over a shoulder.
“I haven’t heard of that club. Must be new. You think it’s wise to go to a nightclub by yourself? Even if you didn’t have demons and angels on your ass, a single woman alone in a bar...”
“You think I can’t handle myself?”
“I’ll go with you.”
Her nod said so much more than just an acceptance of his offer. Women and their secretive ways. He’d never been curious about them, until it was too late.
“What’s the nod for?” he asked, strolling over to stand beside her. Outside, the rain was trying hard to become a downpour but the sun kept interrupting.
“I knew you’d go along with me.”
Did she, now? “You know nothing about me, Zen.”
“And as much as I’d like to change that, you do have your rules.” She turned and tapped his chest. “No friends. Don’t get too close. Don’t touch. That kiss must have had you reeling.”
“I kiss women all the time.”
Her arched brow made another statement that he didn’t want to be curious about—but was.
“Now what?” he asked.
“So you’re a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy? How’s t
hat working out for you, Stoic Warrior Dude?”
“Actually, quite well. And it’s none of your business, is it?”
“Of course not.” She flounced toward the couch. A bohemian goddess with added glints of sparkle today. “I think the club is going to be just what I need tonight.”
“And what exactly do you need?”
Did he want to know? If she was looking to hook up that was her own business. Then again, he did want to know. Everything.
Zen plopped onto the big plaid couch, picked up the backpack and pulled her legs up to tuck her feet under her thighs. Tendrils of her hair spilled forward over the soft cleavage her low-cut T-shirt revealed. “Maybe I need connection.”
So she did want to hook up.
Blade gripped his hands into fists. She looked so comfortable sorting through the backpack. As if she belonged there, on his couch. In his life. But that was wrong—hell. It was getting tiresome making up excuses to protect himself. He wasn’t the guy who tossed out excuses as if they were ammo to blockade emotional shrapnel. If something bothered him he took a stand and showed it his teeth.
And right now Zen’s earlier teasing bothered him. He should ask her to leave. Make it easy on them both. Because his life wasn’t an easy fit for any woman.
“Let me show you something.” She patted the couch beside her. Waited for him with those dazzling pale green eyes.
Why did her eyes have to constantly change color? It was a warning. He sensed it. And yet, the multicolored irises fascinated him. Did they change with her moods? Like those rings the giggling girls used to wear in high school? He’d have to take a survey of her eye color as compared to her mood.
Right now her green eyes indicated a—hmm—flirtatious mood. If he read her correctly.
He sat three feet away from Zen on the couch. “You know, the longer you stay the longer Oogie has to hide out in my bedroom.”
“It’s not my problem the cat doesn’t like me. And he’s a cat. Aren’t they the supreme I-don’t-give-a-shit of all creatures? He can deal.”
Oogie probably could deal. From under the bed. Poor guy. Did the cat sense Zen’s otherness? He had to. So why couldn’t Blade get a fix on her nature?
Zen scooted closer and handed him a postcard.
“What’s this?”
“I got it a couple days after the accident.”
“Got it?” He studied the image of a painting in vibrant greens and blues.
“Stole it,” she corrected. “I didn’t have any money then and that picture spoke to me.”
The computer-generated image depicted an angel with wings of binary code, white hair and kaleidoscope eyes. The attribution was to a New York artist who was now living in Italy.
“An angel,” he said, and gave her back the card.
“Weird, huh?”
“Maybe. Maybe it means you used to be a klepto.”
“Do kleptos take trucks?”
“Probably not. They’re usually into the small stuff.”
“Thought so.” She slid her hand into his. “I want to try something with you.”
He knew what was coming. But he didn’t dash. A gorgeous woman sitting next to him, casting him the big green eyes and a curious smile? He could handle anything she wanted to try.
Leaning in, Zen’s eyes took in his face, roving from his hair, to nose, down to his mouth. Her tongue dashed her upper lip. She smelled fresh, summery, like the grass on a rainy summer evening. But he couldn’t get a read on her. “Does me being this close bother you?” she asked. Emerald eyes danced over his face, teasing him—no, defying him to meet her boldly sensual challenge.
He shook his head.
“But you’d rather I was sitting over there, two cushions away from you.”
Enough. She thought to tease him? He’d show her the man he really was.
Blade threaded his fingers up through her silky copper hair and pulled her in for a kiss. Her body melded against his, and before he knew it, she had straddled him and was taking as much as giving. Now her scent drifted into his senses, summery sweet and addictive. His vampiric instincts matched pulse beats with the blood coursing beneath her skin. His fangs tingled, but he had this.
Too dangerous to bite.
Clasping her hip, he eased her down onto his lap so her breasts hugged his chest. He dipped his mouth to kiss her where the low-cut T-shirt revealed the beckoning crease between her generous breasts. Holding her, a woman intent on seducing him, stirred up desires that he wanted to satisfy. Often.
“Oh, I like it when you kiss me there,” she said on a sultry sigh.
Her hair spilled over his face, a faery flutter. He kissed her breast through the T-shirt, and thumbed the nipple that had perked up beneath. “I like it, too. But this—”
“Don’t say you don’t want to do this. Just let me have this moment, Blade. You think I’ve done this before? I don’t know if I have.”
“You’ve kissed a man before. You’re good at it.”
“Yeah? Well, I don’t remember, so help me to at least get back that memory. Or better yet. Make new ones.”
She pushed him and he fell backward onto the plaid cushions, pulling her down along with him.
Kissing him deeply, Zen took control. She had kissed men. No virgin kissed like this, so aggressively. So curiously. And Blade was inclined to let her continue. To see how far she would take it. Because if she was unsure or inexperienced, sooner rather than later she’d come up short and have to stop. And then he’d have a new wonder about her beyond that of what species she could possibly be.
“Will you take off your shirt?” she asked, kissing down his chin and to his neck.
The vampire within him stirred as her firm kisses neared his carotid artery. The sensual touch was like an electric shock to his system, but in a good, erotic way.
He pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it behind the couch. Zen’s hands played over his pecs and abs. The warmth of her was ridiculous, the firm, exploratory touches stirring up sensation, and he hissed with pleasure.
Her eyes sparkled like the rhinestones at her neck as she admired his torso. “You are ripped. But you don’t lift weights, do you?”
“Not unless it’s to toss them out of my way.”
“It’s a vampire thing, then? Or maybe faery? Do you ever have sex with women when you have shifted to faery like when you brought your wings out last night?”
He wasn’t going to answer that. She was too curious, and moving too fast regarding those kinds of questions.
“Let’s just kiss,” he suggested and teased the ends of her hair between his fingers. “All of me, vampire and faery, likes it when you press your breasts against my chest and push your tongue into my mouth.”
“Mmm...I can do that.” She lay down on top of him, twining a leg between his, and then kissed him deeply, toying with his tongue, and licking his lips and teeth. “What does your vampire like?”
She wasn’t going to give it up.
“Not important right now.”
“Your faery?”
“Zen. Do you want to talk or make out?”
She paused, her hands holding her away from his chest, as she seemed to be considering the two options he’d given her. He threaded his fingers up into her hair and tugged gently. “Come here. Let’s make Oogie jealous.”
The cat had crept out from the bedroom and now, perched like a gargoyle on the kitchen counter, was watching. He hadn’t hissed yet, so Blade was counting that as a favorable sign.
Zen’s hands slid down his sides and her fingers tucked into his jeans. He followed her straying mouth, seeking the lush kiss, the wetness of her lips, the heat of her, but when she landed his neck with a teasing nip, he grabbed her by the neck. A little less than gently.
“Too much for you?” she challenged boldly.
The tease of her catching her lower lip with her teeth made his erection throb. The woman had no idea what she played with. And he wasn’t about to let this liaison go bad. As in, tur
n bloody.
Reaching for the hem of her shirt, he tugged it up over her breasts and was nicely surprised she wore no bra underneath. He cupped her breasts and sat up, guiding her onto her back against the couch arm so he could kiss and suckle at her nipples.
She wrapped her legs about his torso. Squeezing a nipple with his fingers elicited a delicious moan from her. “You like that, too?”
“Oh, yes, please. This is better than sleeping in a truck. Better than wearing used clothes. Better than killing an angel.”
The remark struck Blade, and he paused, lips about her nipple. Prepared to walk away, to put his brain back in the right place, and not indulge in his desires...
The tickle of her fingernail along his waistband, above where his cock strained against the tough denim, obliterated the need to retreat. He’d give her one more chance.
Feasting upon her skin, he savored and licked and suckled her nipples, her generously curved breasts and down her rib cage. And then back up to linger between the cozy snug of her breasts. Between them he pressed his cheek and closed his eyes. Nice here. Her body heat brewed her summery scent to a heady perfume that he wanted to soak in, get lost in.
When was the last time he’d simply held a woman and admired her softness and scent? You remember. But he was this close to forgetting. He needed the distraction of Zen. He needed this sensual venture.
Lost in her, he didn’t realize when Zen had unbuttoned his jeans. Her finger brushed the head of his cock, eliciting a shock of desire that radiated through his system. His fangs reacted of their own volition, descending.
Blade pressed his mouth against her neck.
Chapter 12
Zen felt the sharp prick of Blade’s fangs against her neck. She didn’t flinch. So he’d changed his mind? Yes. The fangs nudging against her skin heightened the erotic appeal of his hands gliding over her breasts. She wanted to feel him sink deep into her. To know the rapture of a vampire’s bite.
But when she slid her hand behind his head and pulled him closer, he suddenly jerked away. Standing above her, arms splaying and a wild look in his eyes, she watched as his fangs retracted, moving up to sit in line with his other teeth. His pecs flexed. And his opened jeans revealed a thatch of dark hair below the rows of tight abdomen muscles.
