by J N Duncan
“Usually,” he said, heading toward the kitchen door. “How about some piano? That’s always relaxing for me. I’m curious about what drives you to play because I’d not really pictured you as the type.”
Jackie hurried after him. “And what sort of woman do you picture playing the piano?”
Nick began ascending the stairs to the loft without turning to speak. “It’s not a male-female thing. I just didn’t see you as the creative type, that’s all.”
She couldn’t tell if it was a subtle slap or a backhanded compliment. “That sort of stuff doesn’t come out as an FBI agent.” Why the hell am I defending myself to him? This is ridiculous. I should just march back to the bedroom and lock the door until morning, or, better yet, get him to drive me back home. I’ve got no business being with this piano-playing, gourmet-cooking, blood-sucking, heavenly coffee-brewing vampire sheriff. Jackie stared at her feet, watching them step one after the other up the stairs. Fuck. You’re an idiot, Jackie.
“I have to agree,” Nick said, setting his wine down on a coaster atop the piano. “You’re all hard lines and sharp edges on the job. I see a different person now.”
Jackie laughed. “Now that I’ve been clubbed in the head and nearly had my knee torn out?”
He gave her a pained smile. “No, not that. Please. Sit down.”
Jackie stared down at the other half of the bench seat, which actually amounted to about a third of the space. She would be right up against him then. The smell of leather would be far stronger. The musk scent of his Mennen Speed Stick would be mere inches away, and those damn eyes would be right there, sneaking sideways glances at her while she played.
“I’d rather just watch you play, if you don’t mind.”
Nick eyed her for a moment. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”
“I said I was fine, damnit, just a little warm, is all.”
“All right then, sit. I insist,” he said, patting the seat.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Insist? You really think you’re in a position to insist on anything from me, Sheriff?”
Nick rolled his eyes at her. “Christ. Sit down and play the piano with me. It’ll relax those frenetic nerves you have going and maybe ease the pain in your heart for just a few minutes.”
Fucker. How am I supposed to say no to that? Jackie found herself sitting down before her mind had finished deliberating the subject. “I don’t play nearly as good as you do.”
“Does it matter?”
“No, I guess not.” She stared at the keys, feeling his gaze on her, the closeness of his body. She could not make herself look at those eyes. “What shall we play?”
“You choose,” he replied. “I’m not particular, and as long as it’s someone known, I’ll pick up on it.”
“You memorize a lot of songs after a hundred years, I suppose.” Jackie laid her hands out over the keys. Duet. Do I even know one? Will my memory even function to make my fingers play it? The warm, syrupy feeling had swelled into her head now, leaving an odd, tangy, metallic taste in the back of her mouth. The wine did nothing to get rid of it. It felt like her head floated just above the rest of her body, barely attached. She wanted Nick’s cool hands on her face, bringing her mind and body back into one piece.
“You pick,” she said, pulling her hands back. “I can’t think of anything.”
“All right. How about this?”
His fingers moved with deft surety, but with a touch light and soft as a feather. Jackie thought she knew the song, but the notes ringing out of the piano filled her head with color, sound, smells, and the bittersweet taste of tears. Abruptly, the sweet melancholy of the song came to an end.
“Jackie?”
She rubbed her clammy hands on her pants. Oh, my God, what was that? “Keep playing. That was so sad and wonderful.”
Nick’s cool fingertips brushed against Jackie’s cheek, and she realized she had begun to cry. Without thinking, Jackie leaned into the touch, and the fingers slid down to cup her chin. He turned her head toward him. “Jackie?”
“What?” Goddamnit, if you don’t kiss me now, I will show you what sharp lines and hard edges are all about.
“Look at me,” he said, voice firm.
Jackie brought her gaze up at last to meet his, locked on like a moth to the flame, charming and deadly both. She could taste his lips against her own, crushing and soft. I wonder if his tongue is as cool as his hands? Could he make me into his slave if he wanted? Unable to resist his every whim? Fuck, Nick! Kiss me or let go before I do something stupid.
“Did Shelby do anything to you? Anything to make you feel better?”
She swore she could feel his pulse through the tips of his fingers, picking up pace against her skin. She nodded. “Said it would have me back on my feet by morning.”
He snorted and shook his head. “Probably said you looked good enough to eat as well.”
You could eat me right now, Sheriff. Just lay me down on this beautiful, polished piano and eat me right up. Jackie nodded slowly, feeling as if too much movement might indeed make her head float away from her body. “She did.” Jackie held up her hands to him, some part of her brain that was normally restrained from active duty brought to the surface on a warm seepage of vampiric goo. “What’s the matter, Nick? My blood not good enough for you?”
He leaned back a few inches. “What? That’s not even an issue here.”
“Shelby wanted it. Why don’t you, Nick?”
“She wasn’t referring to your blood, Jackie. She had, well, other things in mind.”
Jackie wondered if she stood up and sat on the piano keys there before him if he might have a little more compunction to rip her pants off and fuck her brains out. Just a little. I only need a little. Make me feel so much better. Some little part of Jackie’s mind screamed at her, insisting she get the hell out of there, lock herself in a closet until things settled down, but, apparently, the willpower to use it had gone back down to the kitchen for more ice cream.
“Nick,” she said, laying her hand against the rough stubble of his jaw. “I know exactly what she meant, and that’s exactly what I want, what I need right now.”
He reached up and took her hand off his face. “You’re really warm. Shelby did this, damnit. I’m going to kill her.”
Jackie guided his hand down to her breast. “She knows what I need, Nick. Is it really that hard? Am I so undesirable?”
“No, it’s not that, Jackie. This just isn’t the real you here. Shelby did this, filled you with some extra energy to help you heal. It has certain… effects.” He cleared his throat and removed his hand from her breast.
Jackie stood up and stepped over Nick’s legs so that she stood astride him. The keys chimed together in a disharmonious clamor when her butt leaned back into them. “Does it matter?” She laid her hands on his shoulders, squeezing the firm muscle beneath, and found herself strangely and pleasantly oblivious to his fathomless, glowing stare. “I get the impression you don’t sleep around much, Nick. When’s the last time you had a nice, hard fuck?”
“This isn’t the time or place for this discussion, Jackie.”
“And you’d prefer to wait until after you’re dead?” She leaned forward, fingers digging in until her face was only a few inches from his. It really did look like death back in the depths of those eyes. “I don’t want your soul, Mr. Anderson.”
Nick stood up, knocking the piano bench over to the floor with a loud clatter against the wooden floor, his hands hooked under Jackie’s arms. He pushed her back until she was arched against the front of the piano. “You don’t know what you want, Jackie, and I have nothing left to give you.”
She sucked in her breath at the quickness with which he had responded, a tingling wash of heat coursing through her at the feeling of being pressed between him and the piano. It was not exactly comfortable, but Jackie didn’t notice. He stood over her, staring down at her half-opened mouth, holding her gaze, and Jackie knew his words were only t
hat-just words. You say it, and you don’t want to believe, Nick Anderson. You’re just as desperately lonely as I am. “I know what I want at this very moment. Question is, will you give it to me?”
He leaned farther, pressing his torso against hers. Jackie responded by wrapping her legs around his waist and got rewarded with the feeling of him swelling up against her. Nick’s hands gripped the edge of the piano on either side of her, and his mouth hovered perilously and deliciously close to her own. “Jackie…”
God! Do you have to be so fucking chivalrous! Just fuck me! Jackie brought her head up and found his mouth. She could feel every little bump and curve of his lips, nibbling them, licking the crease until after a moment he responded, opening to her and letting her tongue swim with his, tasting of wine, sweet and woody. After a few seconds he pulled away, leaving Jackie licking her lips, wanting to taste more.
“Nick, don’t stop. Please. I want that mouth all over me.”
“No,” he said, closing his eyes and pushing back upright. “Damnit, Jackie. I want to, but no, not like this. Not under the influence of the other side.”
No, no, no! You bastard. You can’t bail now. “I don’t care, damnit.” She reached for his neck, to pull him back down, but he grabbed her hands in his.
“I do. It’d be like taking advantage of a drunken woman. Come on, a cold shower actually helps the effect go away.” He pulled her to her feet and led Jackie to the stairs.
Jackie didn’t complain, thinking perhaps she could coax him into the shower with her, but he removed no clothing, only pointing out the bathrobe hanging on the hook behind the door.
“It’s Shelby’s. She won’t mind. Cold water, Jackie. Cold as you can stand it. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
Jackie yelled at the first contact, but the pulsing contact from the jets of water did indeed begin to cool her down right away. Gradually, her head floated back to its rightful place on her shoulders, and her will ventured back to take up shop once again. Only then did Jackie feel the mortification of what she had done. What the hell would she say to him now? She had truly wanted him though, sort of. Some part of her had, at least, and Shelby had unleashed it. How am I going to live this down? Maybe I can just sneak out and walk back to town. I really wanted him. Fuck, what is my problem? I’m going to have to thank him for saying no.
It struck Jackie then, beginning to shiver under the cold spray of the shower, that Nick Anderson was the first guy that she could remember who had refused to take advantage of the situation offered to him.
Chapter 43
“Will you give it to me?” The words kept echoing around inside Nick’s head. He listened to Jackie finish her shower and then lock herself in the bedroom. Tough not to blame her for that one. Embarrassment was never fun, but he was thankful nonetheless. Nick did not know what he would say to her. Part of him had known what was going on. The symptoms had all been there, but he realized now, after a couple beers and two hours of mindless channel surfing, that he had wanted her. When she had finally irked him enough to push her up against the piano, his body had responded in a way he had not felt in a long time.
He had attempted to call Shelby to give her the piece of mind she deserved for pulling that off on Jackie without mentioning it to him, but she had not answered. It was getting late enough now that it worried him. She should have checked in at least an hour earlier. Gamble had nothing new to pass along. They were all out hunting for Drake. Shelby had been heard from, just not by him. He needed to be out there looking. Somewhere a little girl’s life was in grave danger.
Nick wrapped his hand around the beer bottle and felt the phantom, firm nipple of Jackie’s breast pressing through the cotton fabric against his palm. Her skin had been so warm. The desire to knead his fingers into it had been nearly overwhelming. Such a slightly built woman, and she had certainly shown her ability to use it for violence, but her desperate voice had sent his mind in an entirely different direction, wanting to know how that body would work under more desirable circumstances. Nick clicked off the television and headed up to the loft. He needed something to soothe his fraying nerves.
He had made it a whole thirty seconds into a Beethoven piano concerto when the phone rang. His heart skipped a beat when he saw it was coming from the hospital. “Hello?”
Cynthia’s voice, groggy and hoarse, whispered in his ear. “Nick?”
“Cyn?” Relief washed through him. “How you doing? It’s late, girl. You could have waited until morning.”
“Just woke up. I think they pumped a pharmacy into my veins.”
“Yeah, you weren’t too aware when I saw you earlier.”
“Worst migraine of all time,” she said and laughed softly. “I thought my head was going to explode.”
“Stayed too long on the other side, didn’t you? What were you doing poking around in Deadworld, Cyn? This is not a safe time to be doing that.” He knew he sounded like a dad scolding a daughter for staying out too late with undesirable friends, but in a way it was how he felt. Losing Cynthia would have been like losing another daughter.
“I know, but I wanted to tell you I found them, Nick. At least, I think so. It’s so hard to tell because I can’t really see over there. I just hear things.”
“I know that, but found who?”
“Some of Drake’s victims,” she said. “They’re trapped, I think.”
Nick paused, trying to collect himself. “Some” means more than one, perhaps many. “Trapped how? I don’t understand.”
“Sec,” she said, and Nick heard a soda can popping open and a mumbled conversation with a hospital staff person. “I don’t either. I think they were inside some… place. This big old brute of a guy named Jeffrey was guarding it and took offense at my nosing around.
“Jeffrey?”
“I don’t know. The guy was not the brightest. Kept referring to himself in third person. ‘Jeffrey not let anyone in. Jeffrey gonna smash your face.’ That sort of thing. I tried talking to him, but it was like talking to a brick.”
The name rang a bell for Nick. Jeffrey was someone from Drake’s past. He had run into Jeffrey back in ’32, but the dimwitted thug had been alive then. “Anything else before I come over and smack you for not staying away like I asked you?”
“Promise?”
“Promise to smack you?” Question is, will I give it to you. “No. Not funny.”
Cynthia sighed. “Fine. Can’t give a hospitalized girl a break, can you?”
“Cyn… sorry. It’s been a very long, frustrating day.”
“I’m sorry, too, Nick. Anyway, I got around this nitwit and found a bunch of spirits, those I’d normally think of as lost souls, the ones waiting for something to happen here before they move on, and Drake was with them.”
“What?” Drake has access to his victims after he has already killed them? Dear God.
“Yeah. At least, I am almost positive that’s who it was. English accent, charming voice, and very powerful. I knew the second I heard him I was in trouble so I began pulling out as fast as I could. Reggie showed up though and ran interference long enough for me to get back, but I guess that Jeffrey guy was able to follow me through.”
They could all be there, tormented by Drake all this time, waiting for me to arrive and save the day. Nick’s hand clenched tightly around the phone. “He can walk among both worlds. Christ.”
“Nick…” Her voice faded for a moment, and Nick thought she might have fallen asleep, but there was a cough as she cleared her throat before continuing. “If you need any… um… you know, blood to do this, I-”
“No!” He winced at the tone of his voice. “Sorry, Cyn. I didn’t mean to yell. I won’t take your blood, no matter what the reason, but thank you.”
“Okay. Just thought I’d offer. You know, just in case. Nobody should be allowed to walk among the dead, Nick. It’s not right.”
“I know. I hope I can stop him.”
“Is everything all right back at my house? That idiot wa
s throwing shit all over the place.”
Nick swallowed hard. “There was a fire, Cyn. I think it gutted your living room. A lot of smoke damage, I think, but the outside looked pretty intact.”
Her voice quavered, on the brink of tears. “Did it look fixable?”
“I think so. It’s covered regardless, so don’t worry about that now. You can stay out at the ranch until it gets situated if you need to.”
Her voice cracked. Nick could tell she was crying now. That was far easier said when it wasn’t your house that had burned. “Thanks, Nick. I can probably stay out at Mom’s. I’ll ask her tomorrow. I’m going to go cry for a while now. You going to be okay over there?”
“For now.” Other than the horny, mortified woman in my spare room. I’ll try to call in the morning and see how you’re doing. If we get a break at all, I’ll come by and see you.”
“Okay.” Cyn sniffed and clicked off.
For a moment, he thought the evening could not end on a lower note, but then a short, sharp scream came from down the hall.
Chapter 44
Pale and fanged, black cape swirling about his shoulders like a mist of raven’s feathers, Nick had begun to eat at Jackie. Beginning with her toes, he had taken them delicately into his mouth, breaking off each one like a little piece of hard candy. Then, with snakelike effectiveness, he gulped down each leg just short of the point where she really wanted those fangs to bite.
“Eat me, Nick. Oh, yes, eat me.” She repeated the absurd refrain over and over while he meticulously devoured her, until on the brink of that sweet bite, he stopped and turned to look over his shoulder. Jackie felt a wave of bone-piercing cold wash through her, and Nick’s smiling face froze and shattered into a million tiny pieces.
“Jackie.”
Laurel stood at the foot of the bed, her eyes ablaze with an icy fire. Jackie screamed, trying to scramble away, but, of course, her legs were gone, and she could go nowhere. She glared down at the legless bare body and shook her head.
“Jackie.”
