by Mary Hughes
So when he opened his arms to me, I went into them gladly, leaning into him with a sigh. “So what actually happened?”
“Something that would have had her out for blood. Let’s talk in your room.”
I took his big hand and led him to my bedroom, shutting the door after us. I sat on the bed and glanced at the spot next to me, hoping for hot, sweaty things I shouldn’t have, but what the hell.
Ric leaned against the wall, a sort of self-deprecating quirk to his lips. “I would, but I need to use my mouth for talking right now. This is important.”
Ooh, his mouth, and what he could do with his very clever tongue… With a sigh, I settled back on my elbows. “What did you find?”
“A set of tracks, made by waffle stompers, in the bushes where we’d heard the eavesdropper.”
“Waffle stompers?”
“Big boot print.” He held his hands about a foot apart. “Grid tread pattern. Deep, meaning a heavy guy. Waffle stompers.”
“How colorful you ad men are.”
“Wait until you hear what else I found. Waffle Stomper was our eavesdropper, but his weren’t the only tracks. Two more sets, a ferret and a clown, led toward the clearing.”
“A real ferret?”
“No.” He grinned. “Pointy-toed boots, you know, the kind made of lizard skin and ego?”
“Right. And the clown?”
“Fucking dinner plates. Clomp-clomp clown shoes.”
“I will never get those images out of my head. That goes beyond colorful. I can see why you do well in advertising.”
His grin broadened. “The woman understands me.”
I grinned back.
Somehow we were smiling into each other’s eyes. Everything melted away but a feeling of profound connection.
Our smiles died. I looked away first.
I cleared my throat. “You’re rather good at the tracking stuff for a civilized ad man, aren’t you?”
“I’ve had diverse training,” he said neutrally.
“And the wall goes up. Okay, another secret. So what did you find that you thought Twyla would be out for blood?”
“The scuffling obscured most of it, but I found signs that all three tromped into that clearing. And Ferret’s and Clown’s tracks were deeper than they should have been. As if they were weighed down by something heavy.”
“Heavy? Like what?” I swallowed hard. “Were they carrying the vampire?”
“No. His scent and spoor tell me he was watching on one side of the clearing. I think he capitalized on Elena’s situation but didn’t cause it.”
“So what were they carrying?”
“I’ll get to that. The three, Waffle Stomper, Ferret and Clown tracked into the clearing. Elena’s hiking shoes followed their tracks, and had been for some time.”
“How can you tell she was following?”
“Her tracks overlay theirs. She marched into the clearing and there was a confrontation and scuffle.”
I sat up straight. “They attacked Elena? Why?”
“I’ll get to that too. The men’s tracks run off, Ferret and Clown deeper again, while Waffle Stomper went into hiding behind those bushes. And here’s the significant thing—after we heard him and he ran away, his tracks came back. When I questioned him I found out he saw Elena’s miraculous healing.”
“That’s not good.”
“It’s okay. As I said in the living room, I wiped his mind. But I’m getting ahead of myself. After he left again his tracks joined up with Ferret and Clown, who were significantly unburdened this time.”
“So spill! What was the burden?”
“A dead body. Human. I didn’t even have to dig it up.” His nose wrinkled. “I thought about getting Bo, but the day I can’t handle a few humans…well. I followed the trio of tracks back to their lair. Guess where they led?”
“I’m afraid to. It didn’t take you long, so it must be nearby. The other occupied cabin?”
“You’re so smart.” He grinned with pride. “Exactly right. I questioned them, and they told me everything.” He polished nails on his chest. “I have a certain facility at suggestion.”
“So who are they? Why were they carting a dead body around?”
“They’re enforcers for a Minneapolis gang. Apparently they do this sort of thing fairly often—cross the state line, take a cabin, then wait until night to bury the bodies. Backwoods and secluded lakes make great dumping grounds.”
“And Elena…?”
“Elena tried to arrest them.”
I winced. “She would. That’s why they attacked her so brutally.”
“Yes. They were trying to kill her.”
“Frankly, they would have, if Nikos hadn’t pulled off a miracle.”
He shook his head. “That thing Nikos did, healing Elena—it really took a toll on him. It’s a mark of the depth of his love that he would even consider doing what he did.”
“Is he really smaller? Older? I thought Twyla and I were seeing things.”
“Yes.” He closed his eyes and grimaced, and I thought he was disgusted at the horrors Nikos had endured for the sake of a mere human until he said, “Strongwell too. The way he acts around Elena…I’m beginning to understand some of the things I feel for you.”
“Feelings? For me?” My body heated, my lips throbbed, and I started to hope for things I shouldn’t have. “Good feelings?”
“Strong feelings.” He opened his eyes directly on mine and they were a hot, piercing violet. “I want you in the worst way.”
I shivered. “Oh. Well, my feelings are strong too.” My nipples hardened and something farther south put out a welcome mat and started fanning herself coyly. I shushed her. “The problem is, we’re so different.” And wasn’t that an understatement? “But…”
“But?” His gaze never wavered, now so hot I was about to burst into flames.
“For a little simple sex, I might not care. Since you were so brilliant tracking, then questioning the bad guys. We could try it, find out.” I patted the bed again. Both my lips and my sex smiled hopefully.
“Oh God. I want to. But…”
I suddenly wanted to set fire to that word.
“I donated to Nikos and now I’m…thirsty.” Sticking his hands deep in his pockets, he pushed away from the wall to pace the narrow room.
“Thirsty?”
He stopped. Looked at me. His eyes flared a hungry red. “Really thirsty.”
Maybe I should have been scared at the eyes and the glint of fang. But I trusted him. No matter how thirsty he was, if I said no, I trusted him not to bite me. If I said yes and he bit me, I trusted him not to take too much. Weird.
“I should go.” His tongue touched the tip of a slightly elongated fang. “But…”
Okay, I wasn’t setting fire to that word.
“But with the big guy in the ground and Bo fixated on his wife, that would leave you unprotected.”
“Okay. Good.” I twiddled my thumbs, so I wouldn’t grab him by the ears and kiss him. “How much blood did Nikos lose? It seemed like he was pouring out everything he had, but I know better. The heart stops pumping long before the last pint.”
“True, except for us. We can expel nearly all our blood, even without a beating heart.”
I blinked. “Wow. That’s…incomprehensible. How low are you now? A quart, two? More?”
“I don’t know.” He jerked one shoulder, an irritated shrug. “I only know that I’m thirsty.” He stared at the door, jaw working. “I should head out. Visit my donor humans before sunrise.”
Neither of us wanted that. I had a brainstorm. “How about you satisfy my doctorly curiosity, and I’ll donate to you in return?”
He turned fiery eyes on me. “Synnove. I’m not going to stop at a standard donation. Not with you.”
“You mean you’ll take more than a pint?”
“I mean I’ll throw you on that bed and pound into you until you’re screaming for mercy.”
“Oh. Well.” I
paused to fan myself. “Bonus.” I grinned.
His eyes narrowed, red lances. “I thought you distrusted advertising men. You and I, we’re not compatible, according to you.”
“According to you too, Mr. Marry-Someone-Else. But that doesn’t stop me from being curious.” Not the total truth. I owed him better. I met his eyes. “You don’t lie because it’s good for business. You’re secretive because you have to be. Twyla’s always talking about happily for now, and she’s got a point. I’d like to be happy. How about you?”
He continued to stare with those bright red eyes. Apparently he needed convincing. I stood, snared the hem of my tank top and pulled up, revealing Twyla’s ivory silk bra crammed with my bouncy DDs.
His eyes ignited. He swallowed heavily. “How can I satisfy your curiosity?”
I tossed the top and unsnapped my shorts, flashing a peek of crimson bow. “You’ll need to get my blood pressure cuff.” Most doctors didn’t carry a medical bag these days, but I packed a few things for emergencies—mouth-to-mouth masks, bandages, foam disinfectant and the like. My stethoscope and a blood pressure cuff were also inside.
“Cuff, okay.” His gaze riveted to that wisp of silk. “Where?”
I unzipped the shorts and peeled them midway down my hips. Enough that, when I did a flirty twist, it showed that I was wearing, not panties, but a thong.
He made a strangled sound. When I peeked back his eyes were soldered to my ass.
“Where?”
I smiled. “I left it in the living—”
He poofed. Literally, mist shooting under the door.
I stripped off the shorts and stood in only ivory underwear.
So when the bedroom door opened and he walked in carrying my kit bag, he stopped like he’d been felled. The bag dropped from his twitching hand.
Well. I’d never wanted to be beautiful. But with Ric, I was loving it.
“I’ll get that.” I sauntered over to him, reeeal close, and bent to pick up the bag. I did it from the waist, not the knees, kicking my butt in the air.
Yes. I was abandoning my need to be taken seriously, throwing away my desire to be wanted for my mind rather than my body—at least for a while. What had being serious gotten me anyway but bitterness and disappointment?
Besides, his throttled groans made it so much fun. Go Beast.
“I’ve been meaning to ask.” With a wiggle I picked up the bag and sauntered back to the bed. “Do vampires feel pain?”
“Oh yes.” His groans emerged. I peeked. His eyes, soldered to my butt again, were a bright shade of red that made me wriggle. “More than humans. Pleasure too. Everything…more.”
“Good to know. Why don’t you close the door?” I set the bag on my bed, opened it and found my blood pressure cuff. “Then take off your jacket.” I cleared off the bag, sat on the bed, and as he shut the door, patted the space next to me. He nearly ripped the jacket, getting it off. When he lurched over, his gait was gratifyingly stiff.
“What…” His voice was raspy. He stood over me, hands clenching and unclenching. Long claws curled into his palms. Verrrry long. Looked like Twyla was right. He said, “What are you doing?”
“You’ve lost blood. Either your blood pressure will be low, or your system will compensate and it’ll be normal. Either will tell me something about vampires that no one has ever known before. Sit.” I patted the bed again. “I want to see if you’re your basic 120/80.”
“Synnove. Your scent…” The tips of his fangs glinted as he spoke. “I can’t. I want you too much.”
“Which is why we’re doing my part of the agreement first. Come on, you have to sit for me to do this.”
He swallowed hard. His eyes were actually glowing. “All right, then. Talk to me. Take my mind off…” He waved at his lower body.
“Okay.” I held up the cuff and made my voice cool and professional. “This measures blood pressure. It works by cutting off the blood flow in your arm.”
Gingerly he sat. Closed his eyes. Sucked in a deep breath. Choked. “Your scent. Pure sunshine.”
“Sunshine has a scent?” I was absurdly pleased, more than if he’d eloquently recited a dozen sonnets. I fastened the cuff around his arm. “I pump air into the cuff until it cuts off the blood flow. I release the air pressure gradually. At some point your pressure equals the cuff pressure, and the blood starts flowing again. I can hear when that happens through the stethoscope.” I stopped talking to listen. His pulse beat like a bass drum underwater. “There. It started. The number on the gauge is the pressure reading.”
He opened his eyes. They were a stunning violet, no longer red, and his fangs were gone. “Why two numbers then?”
“The higher number matches your heart filling your arteries. I continue releasing the pressure until there’s no sound.” Slowly, I let more air out. “There. The lower number is the pressure between beats, when the heart rests.” I frowned as I released the cuff. “You’re at 80/50. You should be fainting.” This was amazing. “Something must be keeping you going. Maybe your capillaries are all constricted. Or maybe there’s some pseudo air pressure thing going on. Maybe your blood vessels or heart aren’t constructed like humans. Maybe—”
“Maybe I’m desperate for you.” He grabbed me and yanked me into his rock-solid torso.
Chapter Nineteen
“Maybe I’m desperate for you.” Ric Holiday, desperate for me? My mouth was already gaping open in astonishment, so when he kissed me it was easy for him to drive his tongue deep into my mouth.
His lips were burning hot. His taste was darkly male. The cuff dropped from my nerveless hands.
He planted palms on the mattress behind me and leaned forward, pressing me onto the bed. As I flattened beneath him he climbed over me, tongue still deep in my mouth. He wedged his thigh into the crease between mine and thrust insistently. My legs parted. Immediately his thigh filled the gap, nestling tight. Both of us could feel the moist heat of me. He groaned.
He began flexing his thigh, pressing my mons in rhythm with the thrust of his tongue in my mouth. His hand found my breast, cupped it. Hefted its weight. His hot palm felt so good. I curled my legs around his thigh and rocked my hips in counterpoint to his flexing rhythm. That made us both groan.
His thumb found my nipple, already half-peaked under the thin silk. He flicked it. I yelped. He seized the stiff peak between thumb and forefinger and pinched.
I shot straight into the cage of his heavy body. I moved maybe half an inch, rippling into his strength like a little bird. I gasped into his open mouth. He took my panting breath, gave it back with masculine fire.
His leg between mine was driving me insane. I’d never fired so hot or so fast. I wanted more. I rubbed my hands over his arms, his back. More, much more—all of him, hot, sweaty and naked. I tried to say that with my petting hands. He only flexed his thigh between my legs and thrust his hot tongue into my mouth and tweaked my nipple until I thought I would explode. Frustrated, I snatched his shirt and yanked it out of his pants so hard it tore.
He swore and released me to rear back on his knees. Strip-strip and the shirt was gone. I was confronted by a tautly muscled, bronzed god.
Desire flooded me at the sight of so much bulging male strength, an elemental mine seizing me. My hands grabbed whatever they could. With one hand I clutched an incredibly sculpted external oblique—damn, could have used him to practice my anatomy—and with the other I caught his belt.
Belt. A good idea is a good idea whether you’ve actually thought of it or not. I whipsawed the end until the buckle loosened, then came undone. It took me forever and I was relieved when he pushed my hands aside to unsnap and unzip. He was a whole lot more autocratic in bed and I was liking it.
Until he stopped. I reached for his pants with a whimper. Again he pushed my hands away; this time I was a lot less pleased. “More,” I demanded, waving at the luscious abs, the line of hair rippling down into happy land.
“Too soon.” His voice was a deep, fera
l growl and the tips of fangs flashed as he spoke. I shivered. I’d unleashed something very beastly in the urbane Ric Holiday.
And I loved it.
“More.” I didn’t think it was too soon at all, but apparently I needed to convince him of that.
He had uncaged me when he stripped his shirt and unfastened his pants. I did a half sit-up and reached behind me to flick open the hooks of Twyla’s bra. Tearing it off, I tossed it to the floor.
That convinced him pronto.
He roared, circled my ribcage with one arm and hauled me to him. Opening his mouth he latched onto one breast and suckled like a mad man. I gasped at his hot, questing lips, the suction of his mouth, the spike of fang grazing my skin. He wrapped me entirely in that muscled arm, and thrust his free hand between my legs. His fingers dove under the thong so aggressively it tore. Warm, rough skin skidded on my moisture and slipped deep into my body.
I shrieked. One of his fingers began to plunge in concert with his suckling mouth. I clutched brawny back, muscles hard and defined under my fingers. My hands began to rove the wonder of him of their own accord, not subtle or caressing at all but feeling him up like a sexual beast. In my defense, he was attacking my body with the same mindless fever.
He released me to press me back into the bed, licking my breast until it bobbled, hand riding me between the legs. I arched in pleasure so intense it was like tightening a screw. He licked lava trails from one breast to the other, latched on and suckled me brainless. I was mewing and arching and wanting even more when he sank the fingers of his free hand into my DD globe.
Sensation flashed through me, bright and almost painful. I howled. I wasn’t sure who was the beast any more. My thighs clenched in reaction, grabbing his riding hand. If I’d thought that would stop him I didn’t know him very well. He simply doubled his efforts, shaking my whole bottom until my hips bounced into the mattress. My fever climbed. I was naked and close to orgasm, just from a hand job, and he was still half-dressed. Although if the bulge ballooning against my leg was any indication, he wasn’t unaffected.
