“Let them go.” Sullivan’s voice. Ringing through the crowd.
Miranda craned her neck, straining to see him. Where was—
There. He was sitting at a table, two women on either side of him. One, a redhead, had blood slowly dripping down her neck, and she wore an expression of pure ecstasy. He leaned toward her, licked up the drops, then his head lifted again. “For tonight, and only tonight, they have my protection.”
None of the vampires moved and Miranda realized that the Sullivan guy wasn’t just your average vamp. The guy had power, a lot of it.
Then Cain was dragging her outside—jeez, again with the dragging. Like she wouldn’t have gladly run out of that pit of hell on her own steam.
The fresh air hit her face, driving out the scents of booze and blood. Their car waited just feet away. They jumped inside. Cain revved the engine, and they raced down the street.
Paul Roberts watched the taillights disappear down the road. His Miranda had joined with the shifter. A pity.
Now she was trying to hunt him. That wasn’t the way the game was played.
No, not at all.
Miranda was prey. Food. Not a hunter.
He should have killed her that first night. If only that damn animal hadn’t come running to her rescue.
But the shifter wouldn’t be able to protect her forever. No, there would be a time when she was alone. Vulnerable. There always was.
And he’d strike then. Make her beg for death.
Then he’d go after the animal. It was rumored that shifter blood was more powerful than anything else on earth. Because of the two spirits the beasts carried. A man’s. An animal’s.
He’d find out if that rumor was true when he sank his teeth into the shifter’s throat and gorged on his blood.
Oh, but death could be so wonderfully sweet.
Time to start his hunt.
And he knew just where to begin.
Miranda and Cain didn’t drive back to Cherryville. Instead, they returned to the hotel room that Cain had booked for them. The minute the bellman closed the door and exited the room, Cain sucked in a deep breath. He knew what was coming.
“Just what the hell,” Miranda gritted, “was that vampire talking about? What does it mean to be linked? And whatever it is, you’d damn well better tell me that I am not linked to Paul.”
Oh, but the woman was beautiful. Cheeks flushed. Eyes bright. He wanted to kiss her.
Strip her.
Take her.
But first, well, first he was going to have to piss her off, and probably scare her. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he began.
“Worry me?” Her voice rose several octaves and she began to pace around the room, pausing to toss her bag onto the king-size bed. Oh, but he had plans for that bed. And for her.
“Miranda…”
She shot him a fuming glare. “I’ve got some kind of psychotic vampire killer on my tail. Trust me, I’m already worried.”
Yeah, but there was being worried, then there was knowing-that-a-vampire-could-peek-into-your-mind-at-any-time worried. “When a vampire drinks from a human, it gives him a-a certain amount of control.”
She stopped pacing and spun to face him. “What kind of control?” Almost instantly, her eyes widened. “You said that only the ancient vamps could use Thrall, and Paul isn’t—”
“He can’t use Thrall on you.” His voice was firm. No, the vamp couldn’t use that method with her. “But once he took your blood, he did form a connection of sorts with you.”
Her lashes lowered a moment. Lifted. “I don’t like where this is going, Cain.”
He wasn’t thrilled, either. “If the blood link is strong enough, he’ll be able to glimpse into your mind. See memories.” And if the guy had enough power and he deepened the link, he might even be able to control her.
The hard sound of her painful swallow grated on his ears. “Are you telling me that bastard is in my head?”
“I’m saying he could be.”
Miranda sat down on the bed, hard. Her bag fell to the floor. “How do I get him out?”
He was working on that. They were working on that. But there was really only one way to sever a blood link. “We kill him.”
“Easier said than done,” she muttered.
His hands clenched. He’d been holding back the truth about the blood link because he’d thought Miranda had already been through enough.
He truly hadn’t wanted to freak the woman out any more than absolutely necessary.
“And just who the hell was that Sullivan guy?”
Ah, Liam Sullivan. “He was an agent with the Irish government. Came here years ago on a case, wound up staying as a liaison.”
“So how’d he end up fanged?”
“Wrong place. Wrong time.” Simple words to describe the carnage that had taken out Sullivan’s team and left him alive—sort of, anyway.
“I thought he was one of those ancients you’d talked about. Why’d the other vampires listen to him if he’s still…I don’t know, young to them?”
Because most of the vamps in the bar were considered the fresh Taken. Taken—an apt term for the vamps who’d once been human but had lost their mortal lives with an exchange of blood. Yeah, those assholes in the bar hadn’t been blood vampires—the fierce creatures born onto the earth already having full immortal strength. Instead, the feeding room had been full of amateurs, vamps who’d been changed in the past few years.
Those guys had kept silent because they were still new to the game, and because Sullivan had a reputation for being one tough bastard. “He’s made a bit of a name for himself in the vampire world.” Sullivan, and the female, Maya, a vampiress who lived on the West Coast. Both were former humans who’d once held jobs protecting humans.
Now they both walked in the darkness and killing, well, they’d become very, very good at meting out death sentences to their enemies.
It was always a shame to him when protectors became Taken. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking that Sullivan is harmless, Miranda.”
She snorted. “Yeah, like that’s what I was thinking.”
“If you cross him, he’ll come after you with fangs and claws—”
“Just like you would,” she finished softly.
Her words had him faltering. “I would never hurt you.”
Her stare was direct. “But what about those who cross you, Cain? Do you show mercy to them?”
In his thirteen years in the Bureau, he’d found that few individuals truly deserved his mercy. Not that he had much, anyway. “Some folks—they don’t particularly deserve mercy from me.”
“So you’ve killed, haven’t you?” Her husky voice asked the question that he’d been dreading for days.
Every muscle in his body seemed to harden. “I’m not some perfect human choirboy, baby—”
“No, you’re a shifter. A very strong, very dangerous shifter, and you’ve spent a large part of your life working in law enforcement.” She licked her lips. “Did you have to use deadly force, in the line of duty?”
He gave a jerky nod but didn’t speak. Because it hadn’t just been in the line of duty.
“There’s more, isn’t there?”
Why did she have to push? He’d wanted to keep that dark part of his life separate from her.
Shit. He’d tried so fucking hard. Leaving the Bureau. The monsters—men and beasts. Buying the house in the middle of damn nowhere so that the jaguar could run free in the night and even swim in the water like the cat loved to do.
Then the vampire had come hunting in his territory.
And he’d realized that leaving the city hadn’t really changed things for him.
Things would never change for him.
“Supernaturals, they tend to live in the big cities.” His voice sounded hollow even to his own ears as he walked toward the windows and pushed aside the curtains. “Easier to blend that way.”
“Were you tired of blending?”
His fi
ngers tightened around the silky fabric. “I was tired of the dying.” The demons. The shifters. Witches. Fighting. Dying. Right alongside the humans. “Jaguars—we aren’t exactly the easiest breed to get along with. We like our space. We’re territorial.” Serious understatement. Hell. How many times had he gotten into pissing matches with cougars and coyotes? Matches that had too often turned violent.
Because that, too, was his nature.
“I can pretend to be like humans. To be just a man.” He turned to face her, because he wanted to look into her eyes and make certain she understood this. “But I’m not, and if you go around thinking I’m a man who can turn into a beast, well, you’ll be wrong. At heart, what I am is a beast…who just happens to be able to turn into a man.”
A beast who’d made his first kill when he was eighteen. When the bastard with a gun had broken into his home and threatened his mother because he knew what she was. When the gun had pointed at his mother, and the asshole’s finger had tightened around that trigger, he’d attacked.
And he’d never regretted his actions.
Cautiously, Cain walked toward Miranda, watching for any signs of fear or disgust. She’d given him her beautiful body, let him taste heaven, and he was very much afraid she was going to turn from him.
“I’ve killed in the line of duty, yeah. But I’ve also killed as a civilian. I’ve tracked beings you don’t even want to know about. I took them out, because I was the only one who could.” Again, no regrets.
What point was there in regretting? There was no way to change the past.
He stopped inches away from her. Wished that he could read the emotions behind her solemn stare. “Maybe I should have told you this from the beginning.” After her attack. When she’d realized the world didn’t work quite the way she’d thought. “But I’m a greedy bastard, Miranda, and I wanted you and—” Hell. He wouldn’t say the rest. Wouldn’t say that he’d been afraid she’d turn from him in disgust. It had happened before. Right after he’d graduated from college.
He’d told his human girlfriend the truth about his existence. The relationship had been getting serious, and he’d thought she deserved to know just who her lover really was.
Even now, he could still see the disgust on her face.
No regrets. The mantra slid through his mind once more. That was the way he lived his life.
He drew in a hard breath, caught her heady scent, and repeated, “I wanted you.”
“And I want you.”
Want, not wanted. His heart raced as hope raised its stubborn head.
Her hands reached for him. “I told you before, Cain, I’m not afraid of you. Not of what you are, and not of the creature you become.”
Okay. Sandy had been running from him by this point.
Miranda didn’t look like she was planning to go anywhere.
But looks could be deceiving. Hell, he knew that better than just about anyone.
His fingers caught hers. Tightened. “We’re one and the same, baby. You’ve got to understand that—”
“I do.”
He’d just told her that he was a cold-blooded killer. Why did she still look at him like—like—
Like he was a good man.
Oh, damn.
At that moment, he knew he’d just lost a battle he hadn’t even realized he’d been fighting.
Miranda.
No fear.
Want.
Need.
His.
Cain swallowed back the lump that rose in his throat. “I need to be with you.” Truer words he’d never spoken. And he didn’t mean just for the night.
Forever.
Her lips curved in a smile. “Then what are you waiting for, lover? We’ve got a bed, a room, and all night long.”
He felt it then. A strange warmth in his chest. Something he hadn’t really felt in so long that it took him by surprise.
Happiness.
His lips lifted as he stared down at her. “That’s just the answer I was hoping for.” Then he took her mouth with his and tasted the honeysuckle on his tongue.
Cain pushed her back onto the bed, his cock already swollen with hunger.
When he’d walked into that feeding room and he’d seen the vamps sizing Miranda up like she was some kind of dream meal, a flash of possessive rage had burned through him. Then when those two blond jerks had cornered her, it had been all he could do not to unleash his anger.
Possession. Jealousy. From the man and the jaguar.
His fingers tightened around her hips as he thrust his cock against her. They should take it slow now. They had the bed. Soft mattresses. Sweet-smelling sheets. Yes, now should be the time when he took her like a gentleman. Kissing every inch of her body, murmuring those sweet words that women liked to hear.
It should have been the time, but it wasn’t.
Possession.
Still kissing her, he fumbled for her shirt. Only managed to rip off one button. Okay, two. He shoved the edges of material aside. Touched her breasts through the cups of her lacy white bra.
It had been far too long since he’d tasted that plump flesh. She arched against him, and his hand slid under her back. He yanked the hook of her bra, and the garment loosened in his grip.
Perfect.
Cain ripped his mouth from hers. Kissed a hot path down her throat. Suckled her skin. Marked her lightly with his teeth.
The bra fell away. Her breasts rose up, nipples pink and tight, and he bent his head, catching one areola with his lips. Laving it with his tongue, then pulling her breast deep into his mouth.
When she moaned, his cock jerked in hungry response.
But he wanted to taste more.
He kissed his way to the other breast. Showed the nipple the same sensual attention. And let her feel the edge of his teeth.
Her breath shuddered out.
Then her hands were on him. Jerking off his shirt. Her nails skated down his spine. Scratched.
Now he was the one moaning.
Her fingers crept around his waist. Unhooked his pants with quick motions and freed his cock. She gripped him in a firm hold, squeezed, pumped—
Ah, damn. Cain realized that he was seconds away from coming in her hand.
Not gonna happen. He planned to come deep in her.
Lucky for him, she was wearing another skirt. One that showcased the legs that he loved so much.
His hips pushed between her thighs. Her legs spread, and he reached up, rubbing his knuckles over her panties and pressing against her clit.
She choked out his name. Her hands slipped away from him. Gripped the sheets.
He yanked the panties out of the way. Snatched the condom out of his back pocket. Tore open the packet with his teeth.
He didn’t want to use the rubber. He wanted her. Flesh to flesh.
And if he made her pregnant, all the damn better.
It would make things a hell of a lot easier.
His fingers shook as he positioned the condom. Much as he might want to go bareback, he couldn’t take the choice from Miranda, he—
Could thrust straight into her tight, wet sex. It would be so hot. Feel so good.
His.
Her lashes lifted and her stare met his. He saw the lust. The need.
The trust.
Fuck.
With one hand, he rolled on the condom. Soon enough, he’d take her the way he craved.
Flesh to flesh.
For now, now, he’d take what he could fucking get.
Cain drove balls-deep in one hard thrust.
His teeth were burning, stretching. The beast was always so close to the surface during sex. Fighting or fucking, the jaguar liked to play.
His nails were lengthening into claws. He caught Miranda’s hands, pinned them against the mattress, careful not to cut her.
She twisted beneath him. Hips bucked. Breath jerked out.
The bed began to squeak in time with his thrusts. The mattress to dip.
Their bodies grew
slick with sweat as they fought for climax. Her sex gripped him, squeezing so tight he thought he’d go out of his damn mind.
Heaven. So good.
He pulled his cock nearly out of her, plunged deep again. And again.
His mouth locked on hers. Tasted the need and the stark lust. Tongues met. Lips pressed.
Her breasts were against his chest. Nipples tormenting his flesh. Her legs clamped around his waist. Her hips met him thrust for thrust. Her sex closed around him, fist-tight, flexing, hot, perfect, and—
He felt the hard contraction of her climax along the length of his erection. His mouth lifted from hers. He gazed down at her. Saw the flash of pleasure on her face, watched those blue eyes go blind.
He drove into her creamy core once more and let the same powerful release take him. The pleasure exploded through his body, shooting from his groin and through his entire body in a burst of heat and passion.
In his mind, he heard the jaguar roar, even as a growl of pleasure escaped his lips.
His.
He licked her shoulder. Now was the time to hold her, to feel her warmth and pretend that he was just a man lucky enough to be with the woman he wanted and—
His cell phone rang. A hard, shrill beep followed by the muted sound of the vibrating cell.
Shit. Not now.
The phone beeped. Vibrated.
He withdrew from her body, swearing. Oh, but somebody had just made his shit list.
Cain fumbled for the phone, knowing he had to take the call, especially with Roberts out loose in the night.
“Lawson.”
Miranda was silent beside him, face tense.
“We’ve got contact.” Santiago.
Tension had his gut clenching.
“I logged onto Miranda’s online account. Checked out her profile and e-mail.”
“The bastard’s already taken the bait?” An Internet sting had never worked that fast for him in the past. Never. Red flags shot up in his mind.
Had Roberts used the blood link to figure out what they were doing? Was he trying to trap them? Cain couldn’t ignore that very real possibility.
“Oh, he’s taken it,” Santiago said. “An e-mail was sent from the same account Roberts used before. Traced the IP address back to one of those free computers at a coffee shop just outside of town.”
When He Was Bad Page 24
