by Jessica Sims
He’d traveled the world and been turned into a vampire. I’d been working at the local storage unit and wishing I’d had the guts to stand up to my parents back when I had the chance.
He smiled over at me. “What about you? Living it up since college? What did you get your degree in?”
I chewed on my lip. Tell him the truth? Lie? I sighed after a moment and decided to go for the totally unglamorous truth. “I dropped out a few days after you did. I was . . . struggling.”
“I see,” he said, but it didn’t sound judging. “You didn’t go back?”
I shook my head, regret washing through me. “No. I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I decided to work instead.”
“Where do you work?”
“Cool Storage,” I said, and then snorted. “I’m a security guard. Funny, huh?”
“Why? I think you’d be amazing at whatever you put your mind to.”
His admiring tone bothered me. I gave him a bitter look and flicked my fingers, as if brushing off his compliments. “No, you don’t. You think I’m a loser because I’ve been stuck in a dead-end job in the same city since you last saw me. I didn’t get a degree, I don’t have a family, and I’m resorting to meeting men through a dating agency, even though I should be able to find someone easily since shifter women are rare. Yet here I am, on the lam with a vampire on a date that won’t quite end. A vampire who dumped me four years ago, I might add.” I tightened the blankets around my body and resisted the urge to turn my face to the wall. “Kind of a shitty date, if you ask me.”
Silence. He raked his hand through his hair again, then scratched his head. “I’m sorry, Ruby.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m the one who’s being unreasonable and ridiculous.”
“You’re not unreasonable. Or ridiculous,” he said vehemently.
“No?” My tone was bitter. “You, of all people, should find me so.”
“I would never think that about you,” he said, his eyes going black with emotion. “I loved you,” he said, and my heart stuttered for a moment. “. . . back when we were in college.”
My heart stopped stuttering.
“You’re just as warm and funny and strong now as you were back then, and I still want to be your friend. You are the furthest thing from unreasonable that I could imagine.”
My cheeks pinked a little. I was having mixed feelings about the way he kept tossing “friend” out there, as if he were trying to remind me that our relationship was now platonic. Well . . . maybe not so platonic. Friends with benefits.
Speaking of. “So, um, do you really need to drink three times a day?”
He shrugged, raking a hand through his spiky hair again. “We can skip meals, but, just like regular people, we start to feel light-headed and weak.”
“Huh. Any other stuff about vampires I should know?”
He gave me a thoughtful look, then leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. The casual pose was so utterly Michael that my heart gave that crazy little flip again. “Let’s see. The garlic thing works. Holy water, yes, crosses, yes. Can’t see reflection in mirrors. There’s an old tale about not being able to cross water, but that’s not true. Oh, and we can’t turn into bats. Sunlight will supposedly fry us to a crisp in about ten minutes, and I’ve never felt the urge to test it.”
I was distracted by his long hands and the tilt of his body as he shifted closer. When he leaned forward, he was almost touching my foot with his fingers. It wouldn’t take much for him to slide his hand under the blanket, where I was naked and waiting for him. “And your heart?” I asked lightly. “Does it beat?”
“Nope,” he said, and a boyish grin crossed his face. “Want to hear?”
“Is it weird if I do?” I sat up straighter on the bed, clutching the blankets close.
“Nah. It was the first thing I wondered about, too. Well, that and the bat thing.” He got up from the chair and sat next to me on the bed. “Come listen.”
He lay back, and I crawled forward, hugging the blanket to my bare breasts. He smiled at me, and I felt that same weird little surge. It felt as if time hadn’t passed and we hadn’t spent four years apart, wishing things had been different. I could almost imagine that we were together again.
I laid my ear against his chest and waited. And waited. And then I realized I would keep waiting, because I wasn’t hearing anything. It was like pressing my ear to a block of wood.
“Wow,” I said, a laugh surging from me. “That’s kind of freaky.”
“Not that freaky. If you can overlook the cool skin, you can overlook the heart thing, right?”
I felt his hand touch the strands of my hair that spilled over his chest. Desire flashed through me, and I sat up, looking down at him. His pupils had darkened again, the laughing smile gone from his beautiful face.
I let the sheet drop, exposing my breasts to his gaze. “Thirsty?”
The Adam’s apple in his neck bobbed. “Always.”
The fangs sprouted from his mouth, and I watched them descend, so long that they practically scraped his chin. I touched one with my finger, curious, and enjoyed his shudder.
“Do my . . . changes . . . frighten you?” He gestured at himself, his voice thick as if it were difficult to speak around his fangs.
I shrugged. “You’re talking to a were-jaguar. You’re different but not frightening.” My smile curved, and I leaned in to run the tip of my tongue over one tooth. “Besides, I think my teeth are longer in my cat form.”
“Ruby,” he said with a groan, and his hand reached for the back of my neck, as if he wanted to pull me down against him. “You don’t have to do this. I know you don’t want to be here.”
“If I didn’t want to be here,” I said softly, “I’d have changed and left two days ago.”
When I leaned in to kiss him, his arms wrapped around my waist, and he pulled me against him. His fangs retracted when my mouth touched his, and his tongue darted to brush against my own. Immediately, I felt that wonderful blossom of pleasure from his mouth, the languid kiss of the aphrodisiac. I fell onto him, my breasts pressing against his shirt.
He gave a low growl of frustration and, with supernatural speed, flipped me to my back on the mattress.
I laughed. “Now, that was a neat trick.”
He grinned back at me, tugging his clothes off. “I’m about to show you another.”
When he’d removed his shirt and jacket, I reached for him, running my hands over the cool pads of muscle. He’d always had a trim, muscular body, and I loved that it hadn’t changed. I sighed at the simple pleasure of being able to run my hands down his chest.
He leaned in and kissed me, the kiss increasing in intensity and longing. When it broke, I was panting for breath. His hand slid to my breast and cupped it, and then he moved lower, until his mouth hovered over my nipple, the other gently teased to a peak by his hand. I could feel his breath over the tip of my breast. “Ready?”
I writhed under him. “Ready for what?”
He didn’t respond, just leaned in and licked my nipple. I sucked in a breath at the feel of his mouth on the sensitive tip . . . and then the aphrodisiac kicked in. I moaned as intense pleasure spiraled through my body, the nipple growing hot and hard with desire. I surged up under him.
“Oh, my God.”
“I know,” he said smugly, and then licked my breast again. The second lick felt as if it were pulsing directly to my sex, so intense was the pleasure. My hands fisted in the pillow behind my head, and I groaned with pleasure, panting when he moved his mouth to the other breast and did the same. Moments later, my breasts were twin beacons of exquisite, intense pleasure, and Michael wasn’t done with me yet. He slipped down my belly, pressed a brief kiss to my belly button, and then hovered at the apex of my thighs.
“Ready?” His low, sensual murmur rolled over my skin, increasing the intense pleasure. My nipples were so hard they ached, and I felt as if I’d come off the bed if he didn’t put his mouth on me again. “Micha
el, please. Oh, please—”
When he put his mouth on my sex, the entire world upended itself, right then and there.
Everything began and ended with Michael.
—
A few hours later, after Michael had fed and we’d had sex again, we snuggled under the blankets. Neither of us had chatted much afterward, but we weren’t ready to sleep, either. The sun would be up soon enough, and we’d sleep then. Until he closed his eyes, I’d kiss and caress every inch of him.
His fingers brushed circles on my skin, and I traced the contours of his chest, feeling every ridge of his six-pack. “So why is Mariah obsessed with you?” I finally asked.
He sighed heavily. “I think it’s because I’m new to the community. She views me like an exotic toy, and I’m single and have no blood partner. She thinks that since she’s a female vampire, I should be grateful that she wants me for a blood partner.”
“And why don’t you want her?” I asked, although I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.
“I don’t want to be with Mariah. A blood partner is for life, and eternity is a long time to spend with someone who’s just a convenient meal.”
I continued to run my fingers over his chest. “You mentioned blood partner. Is that like marriage?”
“Somewhat. Vampire rules are pretty fluid, but one thing that is sacrosanct is a blood partner. If you’re in a mated pair, you’re off-limits to others. You wear the mark of the other’s bite on your neck proudly, and you spend eternity together. I don’t like Mariah enough for such a big commitment. She’d be much better off settling with Angelo, but as long as she has the hots for me, he’s going to try to remove me from the playing field. He seems to think that if he gets rid of me, her attention will turn back to him.”
“So there’s your answer,” I said, sitting up. “You need a blood partner.”
He smiled up at me, brushing his fingers over my cheek. “I haven’t found a vampire I want to spend eternity with yet.”
Have you found a nonvampire? I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to know the answer. And how could I possibly hope for Michael to think about me that way? I was kidding myself. A were-jaguar and a vampire could date, but he needed a blood partner to save him from a bloodthirsty vampire. In the morning, I’d call the agency and see if they could set him up with a female vampire. Maybe their mutual need could serve them both.
I laid my head on his chest and forced myself not to think about those kinds of things. “You’ve been all over Europe, right? Tell me about it,” I said, my throat aching. Distraction was what I needed. “What was Rome like?”
“Old.”
I thumped him on the chest. “No, really.”
“No, really. It was old. Everything smelled old. Everything looked old. That was the biggest thing I noticed. Everywhere I walked, I couldn’t help but think that thousands of others had walked there for thousands of years. It’s amazing and humbling all at once. And it’s hot and crowded and noisy, and you just don’t care, because you’re standing in the middle of history.”
I closed my eyes, trying to picture it for myself. “It sounds wonderful.”
“It was.” His hand idly stroked through my hair. “I saw the Pantheon, and the Colosseum, and the Trevi Fountain, and so many other things.”
“The Sistine Chapel?” I asked, hopeful. I’d always wanted to see that.
“Nope. Couldn’t find a night tour.”
That was disappointing. I wondered how he’d felt about his vampirism when he found that out and stroked his chest consolingly. “I bet it’s not that interesting anyhow. Tell me about the fountain instead.” I wanted to picture him there, in the midst of the crowds in Rome, drinking in the sights, blending in with human tourists, surrounded by wonders. “Tell me about all of it.”
As he thought for a moment, his hand stopped in my hair, then started again. “It’s this enormous fountain. I thought it was a pool at first, because it’s long and square like one, except there’s people surrounding it and this beautiful, ornate Baroque building right behind it. The center of the fountain is full of statues, all beautifully carved out of all this rock, and you walk up and think that you’ve stumbled upon some grotto where the gods have come to play. And it’s all lit up. I imagine it’s lovely by day, but at night, all the marble is golden and shining, and the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. There are thousands of coins in the water, and it’s amazing to think that each one represents someone who stopped by the fountain and made a wish.”
I smiled, my eyes closed. “It sounds lovely.”
“It was.”
“Now tell me about Paris.”
“Paris . . . wasn’t so great.”
I thumped him again. “You’re lying.”
“Maybe.”
I lifted my head and looked up at him. I raised one eyebrow. “Are you deliberately playing things down so I won’t get jealous of your adventures?”
He gave me an enigmatic smile. “Maybe.”
That was sweet of him. I laid my cheek back against his chest and gave his abdomen a hard pinch of warning. “Paris. Details. Now.”
Michael chuckled and wrapped his hand in my hair again. “When I got to Paris the first time, it was raining . . .”
Chapter Six
My eyes flew open, and I stared across the small room, trying to figure out what had awakened me.
Michael was still curled up against my side, his breathing soft and even. I sat up, ears straining. Someone was in the front of the shop. I’d heard the soft murmur of the butcher’s cheerful voice earlier as he’d helped customers, but it was six o’clock now, and the shop was closed.
The footsteps got closer. My ears pricked again. Maybe they were restocking the deli counter from the stuff in the freezer? As I listened to the footsteps, I noticed a pattern. Two steps and then a soft rap-rap. It happened again, and then again. My skin prickled with awareness.
Two steps, rap-rap. Two steps, rap-rap.
I slid from the bed and placed my ear against the door. Two steps, rap-rap.
Someone was knocking on the walls. I tensed, my predator instinct fully alert. Whoever was on the other side was testing the wall every few feet.
A pause, then another rap-rap. Then I heard the door to the antechamber slide open.
A growl formed low in my throat, and I swallowed it, but I allowed the claws forming at my fingertips to emerge.
The footsteps entered the small antechamber adjoining our safe room and paused again. I heard beeps as someone punched at the keypad. A pause, then a few more beeps. Then swearing and the punching of different buttons, phone buttons.
With my excellent hearing, I could hear the conversation through the phone.
“Angelo Gaston’s office,” said a cheerful voice.
“I found the place,” the intruder said, and I caught a whiff of a dog scent. My fists clenched. The werewolf asshole had tracked us down.
“Excellent,” the woman said. “Did you get him?”
“He’s in a panic room. I need the pass code.”
“I don’t have it.”
I nearly sighed with relief.
“Then get it for me,” the werewolf said, surly.
“Mr. Gaston won’t be awake for at least another hour or two,” she said sweetly. “Shall I leave him a message?”
He swore softly under his breath. “No, no message. I’ll call Taylor when his naptime is over.”
“Very well, Mr. Anderson,” she said, and the call terminated.
So the wolf was Anderson, the vampire hunting Michael was Taylor, and they were going to descend on us like vultures as soon as it was time for the vampires to wake up.
We had to get out of there. As the man paced on the other side of the door, I crept back to Michael’s side and tugged his clothes out of the pile on the floor. I’d dress him, and as soon as he was awake, we’d get out of there. Maybe head to another one of his safe houses or go to my house, at least for some clothes. We just had to go
somewhere else—I didn’t care where.
I dressed him as he slept, edging first the underwear and then the pants up his legs. The button-up shirt was a bit more work, but I managed it, keeping my movements as quiet as I could. I kept glancing at the clock as I worked, waiting for the time to click over. What time did Michael wake up? Six? Six-thirty? Seven?
Outside the room, the man leaned against the door, whistling. He thought he was going to wait for the goddamn pass code and flush us out, but I wouldn’t give him that chance.
I straddled Michael’s chest and put my hand over his mouth, anticipating his awakening. I must have sat there for ten minutes, staring intently down at him, waiting for the flutter of his eyelids.
A few minutes later, his eyes flicked open and dilated, staring up at me. I leaned over him and pressed a finger to my lips, hoping he’d be awake enough to understand.
He paused for a moment, then nodded. I felt his teeth elongate against my hand at the same time that I felt his erection swell against my hips.
I leaned down to his ear, whispering low enough that the werewolf wouldn’t be able to detect my voice. “There’s a werewolf on the other side of the door. If he hears us, we’ll lose the element of surprise.”
I removed my hand, and he reached up to grasp the back of my neck, pulling my ear down to his mouth. “That’s the only way out of here.”
I nodded. I knew that. I leaned in again, unable to resist brushing my tongue against the shell of his ear. “I’ll take care of him.”
He grabbed my arm as I tried to slide off him, jerking his head in a quick, angry shake. He didn’t like the idea of me taking out the werewolf? But I was the predator. I was the strong shifter. I flexed my hand, showing him the claws ready to pop out from my fingertips if I let the shift take over.
He shook his head violently again. “Ruby, no,” he mouthed.
