“More than you think.”
“Meaning what?”
He uttered a sigh that sounded more like a growl. “Meaning I take issue with a man who knowingly puts a woman’s life in danger.”
Xandra knew better than to take the bait. Yet truth resonated beneath his words. Jeremy often disapproved of her actions, even when she thought she was being entirely reasonable. And he had a way of arriving with backup moments after the most dangerous action had gone down. Until now she’d thought it accidental. It took time to get clearance. It took time to traverse the city’s often frustrating traffic jams. But what if Dante were telling her the truth?
No, she wouldn’t consider it. Jeremy had given her a job and a career and a chance to put things right. She wouldn’t allow Dante to question her dedication.
“I have a dangerous job. So do you.” He was leading the conversation off course, forcing her to get bogged down in her own doubts. Which raised the question—how on earth did he know about those deep questions she kept hidden, even from her closest friends? And he’d evaded all her questions.
“We have dangerous jobs. But there are always ways to manage risk.”
Now he sounded like a bank manager. She stomped down on her anger. He wouldn’t divert her attention more than he already had. “You haven’t answered my question. What did you do to me?”
He turned toward her, and for an instant his eyes caught the light of the fire and glowed a deep gold. Like a deer’s eyes or a cat’s. But not red…like a vampire’s, which only raised more questions. He caught her gaze and held it, knowing what she’d seen. “I gave you my blood.”
“What?”
Memories came rushing in—the press of his body against hers…his lips against her forehead…pulled against the hard planes of his chest…his calm insistence that she should drink…that it would make everything better.
And she was better. Her body recognized that much instinctively. “Your blood?”
He nodded, sending a cascade of drying blond curls onto his forehead. “Mine.”
“And that would make you—” She’d known since the moment she’d met Dante Nolastname that there was something unworldly, something inhuman about him. But he didn’t have the usual signs of a vampire. He was blond, his eyes glowed gold—not red—in the light. It just didn’t add up.
“That would make me a vampire.” He gazed at her, daring her to say something, to take issue with the certain facts of his existence. “You did confess to me that you had a thing for vampires,” he said in a pitiful attempt at humor.
“Well, I lied. In fact I’m—” Memories of his body pressed against hers surged through her mind. From the moment she’d met him, she’d wanted to explore this golden man, to understand what made him tick. How could she feel such heat for one of her prey?
“I know.” He made each of those two words sound infinitely sad. “You, Xandra Wheeler, are a vampire hunter.”
“That’s a rather blunt way of putting it.”
Dante shrugged. “Special operative, if you will. It makes no difference what you call it. Your job is to hunt down those of my kind and wipe them out.”
Alix was the only one who knew the truth. But somehow Dante had seen through her deception. He knew. She fought for a way to divert the conversation so she wouldn’t have to face the reality that she, a vampire hunter, was deeply attracted to a vampire. That a vampire’s blood now surged through her veins.
“I do not track down innocent vampire civilians,” she insisted. “I help clean up unfortunate situations.”
“So you say. But those unfortunate situations were once someone’s son, someone’s daughter, someone’s wife, someone’s—”
She silenced him with a wave of her hand. She wasn’t here to debate semantics. “When people break the law, someone usually does get hurt.”
“Someone usually does.”
Accusation lurked beneath his quiet tone. He’d shot at the feral vampires just like she had when Mack Saunders had been attacked. How dare he question her? She worked for a secret but necessary organization. She did only what had to be done. She never went out of her way to hurt anyone.
Xandra bit down on a surge of unexpected pain. “Fine,” she said, rising. “Thanks for the rescue—not that I asked for it or anything. I had my own backup on the way. I would have received the proper medical attention.”
Standing up so abruptly was obviously a bad idea. The world spun around her. She put out her hand to stop her fall. But the world continued to tilt and turn in no predictable pattern.
He was at her side in an instant. He caught her as she tumbled toward the wooden floor. Gently, he lowered her back to the couch and tucked the blanket back around her.
“Xandra, you wouldn’t have made it. You were seconds away from having every drop of your blood drained from your body. Your boss Jeremy wasn’t going to get to you in time. Even the hospital wouldn’t have known what to do. They’d just have given you more of that reconstituted, bottled vampire blood and made you sick.” He trailed off as if he didn’t know what to say to convince her. “I really was trying to help you.”
“I didn’t ask for your help,” she protested weakly. Then she looked up at him sitting in the red light of the fire. His eyes didn’t glow red like a vampire’s. His hair was still wet from the shower and hung in disorderly curls around his face. He looked disheveled and somehow…sweet. “What you did hardly qualifies as proper police procedure.”
“Well no, it doesn’t really.” He studied the floor between his feet. “I just wanted to get you away from all…that. I wanted…to protect you.”
He sat so close she could feel the heat of his body. And that in itself was wrong. He shouldn’t be radiating that much heat. Not if he was a vampire. Fresh from the shower, he smelled of soap and man. His hair was drying, his curls fluffing around his face. They looked even blonder in the candlelight. He looked so appealing—like he might have jumped off the cover of a magazine. He attracted her like no one else ever had. She had only to lean into that heat to steal some of it. She had only to reach up to feel those soft curls, to bury her hands in them. And yet, there was so much about Dante that didn’t add up. So much that didn’t make sense and so much he hadn’t shared with her. Like his last name.
She should be asking those questions. She should be demanding those answers. But instead she moved almost imperceptibly toward him. And he caught that small movement, that change in her stance, and closed the distance.
He gave her a soft kiss, almost teasing in its intention. An invitation, she decided. And took him up on it. She kissed him back, slightly more forcefully. He responded in kind. He deepened the kiss, probing at the recesses of her mouth as if he longed to explore every inch of her. Normally, she didn’t enjoy such a thorough kiss, but the way Dante did it, her body played along as if he’d also stolen her will.
He’d just confessed to being a vampire, and still she kissed him. Her mind tried desperately to remind her of that pertinent fact, but she ignored it. He caught a handful of her raven hair and twined his fingers in it, tipping her head back to explore more of her. His other hand caressed her back, working his magic on muscles that had been abused in the fight. She softened under his touch. He seemed to know exactly where to touch, where to gently knead. He’d only just begun to caress her—they were virtually strangers, and yet he seemed to know her body like they’d been lovers forever.
She began her own exploration. Raising her hand, she tested a handful of his golden curls and found them as soft as she imagined them. Still slightly damp, his hair smelled of shampoo. In his ear stud, three diamonds formed a triangle. She wondered briefly what it meant, but she didn’t want to break this wonderful mood to ask. She explored the strong line of his neck with her lips, making him tremble. His arms tightened around her. Playfully, she nipped him below the ear and heard his rich laughter in response.
Apparently, she’d inspired him because he began his own exploration of her neck. Th
e touch of his lips against her tender skin sent ripples of pleasure down her spine. He continued down behind her ear. His lips hovered over her jugular vein.
That warning came screaming back into her mind. With a cry, she pulled away from him.
He caught her in those strong arms and pulled her back against him. She struggled, shocked at his strength. “It’s okay, Xandra,” he whispered against her ear. His warm breath stirred the hairs on the back of her neck. “I wasn’t going to bite you.”
She stared back at him, panting from arousal and exertion. “Sure seemed that way to me.”
“Ah, now you know the law as well as I do,” he said gently. “Not without consent.”
Her body protested his withdrawal, but she refused its persistent demands. “You could probably argue the signals I was giving off as consent.”
He stared back at her, his own breathing coming hard and fast. “Consent is consent. It’s the law.”
Xandra fought warring desires, torn between wanting to push him away and pull him closer.
Dante was staring at her, urging her to see past the label “vampire” and discover the man beneath. A man to whom she was deeply attracted—if she allowed herself to face the truth. Something about him compelled her to discard her own instincts. In spite of her long-held hatred of vampires, Dante made her feel safe. Safe in a way she’d never felt before. Safe in a way Jeremy never made her feel. She wanted to get up and wander through his enigmatic house, to discover what lay behind that warren of dark corridors. She wanted to spend the day making love in the large bed she was sure he had hidden somewhere.
But, her instincts insisted, there was much about Dante Nolastname that she really didn’t know. A lot that didn’t add up. And in her line of work feeling safe was a warning that she’d become far too complacent.
Memories of the taste of his blood on her lips dragged her back to the present. Vampire blood, no matter how it made its way into her body, should have her doubled up over the toilet retching. But she wasn’t. She was sitting there on a supposed vampire’s couch feeling just fine.
She put out her hand, holding him away. “Okay Dante. Spill it. What are you?”
His expression turned suddenly wary. “I told you.”
“You told me you were a vampire. But if you are, you’re like no other vampire I’ve ever met.”
He looked even more wary now. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure you do.”
He sat again on the couch. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”
She uttered a hiss of annoyance. He sure wasn’t going to make it easy for her. “Fine. Your skin is warm to the touch—”
“And how do you know that I haven’t just fed recently?”
“I’m sure you have,” she said with distaste.
His face darkened. For the first time he looked angry.
She continued. “So that’s a possibility, but it doesn’t explain why your eyes glow amber instead of red in the light.”
“You’re complaining about the color of my eyes?” He was leading the conversation off track, trying to confuse her by getting bogged down in the little details.
“Complaining? No.” Damned if she’d let him get away with that tactic. “I like your eyes. They’re just the wrong color for a vampire. And I should know. I’ve spent a long time studying them.”
“I could just be unusual,” Dante said, like she’d given him a great compliment. “It’s not uncommon for people to have different coloring, even among humans.”
“Well, no, it isn’t. But then there’s the fact that your blood isn’t making me sick the way it should.”
He ran a finger over her lip. She pulled back out of range before her traitorous hormones could take an interest in his touch. “Maybe my blood is just a bit more agreeable to your system.”
“And why would that be?”
“I really don’t know.” But she had the feeling he really did know. And he really didn’t want to tell her the reason.
What strange components lay in Dante’s blood that made it compatible with her system? Why wouldn’t he tell her? She changed topics. “When you rescued me you were moving very fast—”
“Look,” he said gently. “You’d been injured. Your mind was playing tricks on you. I assure you there’s nothing remarkable about me.”
“Remarkable,” she scoffed. “Not the word I would have used.”
He smiled, showing even white teeth and not a fang in sight. She wondered what he’d look like with his eyes glowing amber and his fangs and nails extended, then decided she didn’t want to know. It would ruin the effect.
“Whatever.” Satisfaction crept into his expression. He thought he’d mollified her concerns, that he might continue to seduce her, secure in his deception. Little did he know she’d merely filed them in the back of her mind to be dealt with later. “You’ve had a bit of a shock, but you’re on the mend now. You’ll be okay.”
He pushed a lock of her hair off her face, but it fell back and hung there lankly. Though he’d tended to her wounds and washed away the blood, she still needed a shower. But Dante didn’t seem to notice. His finger stroked the skin on her face, tracing the path of a cut that was already healing.
He brushed his lips over her mouth. His curls were soft against her face as he leaned toward her. His arms went around her, pulling her against him and putting his hand behind her head to encourage her to lay it on his shoulder. The feel of his muscular body pressed against hers was nearly enough to unravel her resolve. She kissed him back, deciding that if he wouldn’t tell her the truth, she’d discover it another way.
He sure tasted human enough, she thought, as she probed his mouth with her tongue. His answering growl of pleasure told her he was enjoying it as much as she was. With Dante pressed so closely against her, there wasn’t any denying that. What would it be like to make love with a vampire?
“Xandra,” he whispered, pulling away from her. He looked tortured. “We can’t do this.”
His rejection stung. She sat back against the cushions.
“You’ve been hurt. And you need some more sleep—in your own bed.” His eyes begged her to agree. “So why don’t we come up with something that will satisfy your boss, and I’ll take you home?”
She wanted to stay, her body begged her to stay, but anything more strenuous than kissing was likely to kill her. Just a minute ago she’d been contemplating things quite strenuous indeed. Had he used a measure of suggestion on her? “How are you going to take me home? Both our cars are back at the scene.” She winced. “Or in some police impound.”
“Don’t worry.” Dante gave her a quick nip on the tip of her nose. “I can get your car out of the impound yard.” He stood. “And don’t worry about getting home.”
A few minutes later, still in his sweats and borrowed T-shirt and her weapons in a borrowed knapsack, she stood before a dangerous-looking black motorcycle. Then again, what had she expected?
Dante handed her a helmet. He wore his leather jacket and a helmet with a black visor that made him look like some kind of medieval knight in odd clothes. She donned the helmet and climbed onto the bike behind him.
He roared out of the garage. Obviously this was his preferred mode of transportation, because he drove with an assurance Xandra didn’t feel. She’d been on a motorcycle before, but never really enjoyed the feel of the air on her face or the asphalt rushing by below. He zigzagged in and out of traffic on the wet pavement. The sky had grayed with the coming of dawn. Maybe he was in a hurry to beat the sun. Would that dark visor protect him if he didn’t make it back in time?
They pulled up in front of her townhouse. Dante killed the engine. Flipping up his visor, he brushed his lips suggestively across hers. Despite her misgivings, Xandra nearly invited him in. But he said, “I’ve got to go.” To his credit, he didn’t glance nervously at the sky.
“We never did decide what we should tell Jeremy,” she pointed out.
“Tell him you gave cha
se to one of the suspects fleeing the scene.”
“That doesn’t explain why my car is still at the scene and I never called back in.”
“Tell him you lost your cell phone in the melee.”
“That still doesn’t explain why I didn’t come back for it, or why yours is there.”
“Hopefully they won’t have run the plates on mine.” Dante didn’t sound convinced. “You could say you were injured in the chase and went to hospital where you were detained…”
“Jeremy would check out my story.”
“Probably he will, so stick to the fact that you were injured and don’t remember anything except wandering home in a daze.”
“Sure,” Xandra said. “Like he’ll believe that.”
“It doesn’t matter what he believes.”
And the truth was, she couldn’t think of anything better to tell him.
“Okay.” She kissed him back, a feather-light brush across his lips. His lips were still warm.
Dante gunned the engine and sped down the driveway. Xandra strode up the steps to her unit, fully intending to take a long bath, then an even longer nap in her own bed. She turned the key in the lock and stepped into her house.
“Keeping some rather odd company these days,” said a voice out of the darkness.
Xandra jumped. Usually she didn’t startle easily—she’d been trained not to. But exhaustion and loss of blood caught up to her. She bit back a yelp and turned to face the intruder.
Jeremy sat in her aluminum chair. He’d even put his feet on her glass coffee table. And he hadn’t removed his shoes. That irked her. His entire body language screamed possession—of her—of her home and her belongings. Dante’s warnings rang in her mind. What message was Jeremy trying to send? If he wanted her to think he owned her and that everything she had, she owed to him, well he was very wrong. And if he thought he could dictate who she spent her time with, he had an unpleasant surprise coming.
Feral Passion Page 6
