by Mary Hughes
He couldn’t seduce that away from her. He respected her too much.
He set her feet on the ground and pulled away.
She whimpered, a tiny sound of protest.
And he was back kissing her. He barely pulled her behind the changing screen before reaching under her clothes to touch and caress and meld with everything all at once.
A flick opened the snap of her jeans, a tug undid her zipper. He slid a hand inside her panties and met her rising clitoris. His quickened breaths brought the smell of her arousal, tangy sweet.
He rubbed her, liking her soft gasps and groans. He dropped his mouth to her neck and licked her skin, tasting her pulse under his tongue.
A tug at his waist barely distracted him, belt and snap and zip coming undone in her strong fingers. He sprang greedily into her hands. She circled his shaft and stroked gently. He tilted his hips and thrust more aggressively into her fists.
When he was swollen and purring like mad, her hands left him. He groaned with longing.
But she’d only released him to take off her pants. She turned her naked buttocks against him and rubbed flesh, soft to hard.
He responded hot and fast, his cock jacking past ready to now. He grabbed her hips, turned them up, reared back and—
It all slammed together in his head. Smelled, tasted, felt like his.
Like a mate, his mate. Like Ric and his pregnant mate.
Intercourse with Sunny wouldn’t be screwing. It was mating. Which meant children.
Making him a father.
“No!” He pushed away.
She turned to him, blinking innocence and confusion. “What’s wrong?”
He tried to explain. “You could get pregnant.”
The passing wistfulness in her eyes was nearly his undoing. She said, “Condoms—”
“Won’t do any good with my kind. Not if you’re…if we’re…” He dug a savage hand in his hair, pulling out strands. At this rate he’d go bald in a night. “Take my word for it.”
“Well, then I’d get pregnant. Would that be so bad?”
“What about your career?”
“Elena has a career and a family.”
“She has Bo and a dozen people helping her raise the child. Mrs. Cook, Mr. Butler…who do you have, your mother? Your brother? Imagine them raising your baby. Do you want that?”
She paled. “Ouch.”
His blood drained in response. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“I know. But still.”
He shook his head. He didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t make everything worse. So he said what was in his heart. “I won’t risk making a child because of my past.”
“Elena told me a little. But that’s your past. It’s over now.”
“It’s not over.” He shook his head. “It lives every day for me. In me. I’m sorry, Sunny. I can’t.” He turned to leave.
“Don’t go. Please?” The panic in her voice shot guilt into his very bones. Yearning filled her eyes, a desire to connect, or rather, as they were already connected, to tug the emotional string between them and vibrate it deeper and wider into joy—a desire all the more dangerous because some lost part of his soul shared it.
“I have to.” He wouldn’t be a father. Wouldn’t do that to some poor random child, much less Sunny’s.
He dissolved into a river of mist and flowed out.
I won’t say I was dejected after that spectacularly failed seduction, but when Elena met me dragging down the stairs, she took one look at me, hooked my arm and said, “Mrs. Cook will feed you.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’ll eat anyway. I’m a mom now, I know what’s best. After which, Ric and Synnove need watching. I’m deputizing you to sit with them for a while.”
“Synnove’s awake? That’s good.”
Mrs. Cook rustled up a plate of beans and rice spiced to make my eyelids roll up like shades. I loved every bite. Food was just what the doctor—or the mom—ordered and I was almost human and no longer dragging when I hit the stairs to the basement.
Ric was awake too, sitting on top of the soil, bare-chested and probably bare-bottomed but his hips were covered by a blanket. He appeared more human, or at least less like a corpse.
His wife snuggled next to him. I thought she was napping but the moment I came through the doorway she yawned and sat up. “Sun-Hee. I heard you were in on the rescue. Thanks.”
“I do what I can. How are you?”
“Still sleepy, but I’ll be fine. Have you met my husband, Ric?”
I waved hi. “You look better.”
He smiled. “I feel better. Where’s Aiden?”
“He left.”
My face must have said more than my words, because Ric shook his head. “Don’t mind him. He had a rough childhood.”
“I heard he was an orphan, like me.”
Synnove patted the spot next to them. “Why don’t you sit with us for a bit?”
I eyed the soil. It wasn’t moist but it wasn’t bone dry either.
Ric said, “Mats are in that cupboard.”
“You read minds?”
A smile flashed across his model’s face. “Your expression wasn’t that hard to decipher. What else did you hear?”
“That Nosferatu raised him.” I found a padded roll, spread it and settled beside them. Synnove curled up against her husband.
“Did you also know that Nosferatu made him? Lured him with the promise of a better life, then attacked and killed him.”
All my blood drained from me. “That’s horrible.”
“Yeah. And why Aiden doesn’t trust authority. Nosferatu made me too. In the early 1800s he was creating his own personal army by murdering orphans. Not many rose again, but those who did were trained to kill. Aiden was the first, and for many months, the only.”
“My God.”
“Yes. Isolated, alone, yet he still managed to hang on to his humanity, because when I rose he took pity on me and took me under his wing. He saved me.”
Synnove’s fingers crept into her husband’s hand and held on tight.
I said, “You’d have died?”
“I might have survived physically, but I don’t think I’d have stayed sane. He shielded me from the worst of Nosferatu’s abuse.” He shook his head. “Training was harsh. Maybe both of us would have gone down if not for Eloise.”
I snarled. “That psycho?”
“Then, she was a beautiful little human girl. Sweet.” He said it wistfully. “Just six. We clung to each other, Aiden and me and Eloise. We were more than friends, we were partners against Nosferatu.”
“Yeah, well, if she’s Aiden’s friend, why did she try to kill him?”
Ric looked away. “Nosferatu scarred her. A lot. Some of that is our fault.”
“It’s not,” Synnove said. “You were children.”
“She got left behind when we tried to escape. It’s clear she blames us.”
I said, “She blames Aiden.”
Ric’s eyes came back to mine, a fierce wintry blue. “That’s wrong of her. She doesn’t understand what happened. Hell, I still don’t understand everything that went on that day.” He paused. “Aiden said she subconsciously wanted to stay. Maybe he’s right. He’s pretty savvy. Maybe Stockholm Syndrome.”
“Histrionic personality disorder, from her ranting.”
He stared at me.
Thinking he was looking for clarification, I said, “Needs constant attention? All Eloise, all the time?”
“That’s what Aiden said.” Ric kept staring, so long and so intensely I got uncomfortable.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said in that way that meant something but he wasn’t going to spill. “Do me a favor? You know Otto’s B&BS? Synnove’s sister drove in from Ch
icago to help. She’s staying there. Could you let her know we’re both here and okay? We should have checked in by now and I don’t want her to worry.”
“Elena said I’m supposed to sit with you. Can’t you phone?”
Synnove said, “I talked to her when I first woke, but I didn’t have time for details. It’d be better if she get the full story in person. Sun-Hee, please?” She dimpled.
“Well…” There was something they weren’t telling me. But Aiden trusted Ric and I’d played street soccer with Synnove. What harm could it do? I got to my feet. “Okay.”
As I hit the front walk to Otto’s B&BS, a woman dressed in something short and spangly stormed out. Her sassy date makeup clashed with the red anger in her face.
“Honey!” A man hustled anxiously after her. “Please wait.”
I was surprised to see people out and about. Vampires notwithstanding, our little town rolls up the sidewalk at nine. I checked the time. Slightly after one in the morning. All the hoorah at Nosferatu’s and Elena’s only took a few hours. It had seemed so much longer.
The woman spun on her unfortunate date. “You promised to take me to the best inn in town.”
“This is the best inn in town.”
“I thought you meant Chicago. This one-horse burg? Where the hell is the romance in a bed-and-breakfast smorgasbord?”
“The honeymoon suite?” Desperation edged his tone. When she turned up her nose, he added, “This was a speakeasy in the nineteen-twenties. Isn’t that romantic?”
“It explains the stench of beer in the bathtub. The plumbing must be from the twenties too.” She stormed to a car at the curb, chirped it open and got in.
“Honey, please.” The man rushed after her, nearly knocking me down. He stopped only long enough to steady me, pressing something into my hand. “Take this. It’s paid for.” He raced away. “Honey, wait!”
A room key rested in my palm. Typical Ruffles luck, chancing into the honeymoon suite when I had no one to share it with. I sighed and went in.
I found Otto whirling around in the parlor, sweeping. He always swept, despite a floor covered in carpets. With his size fifty-two aproned gut and his spindly legs, he’s built like a top. To stay upright he has to spin like one too.
“Hello, Sun-Hee.” He came to rest leaning on the mantel of an old-fashioned faux fireplace. “How is your lovely mother and detective brother?”
“Both good.” Dirk would be; Aiden had promised. I held the key out to Otto. “Honeymooners don’t want it.”
“Keep it. It is paid for.”
“I really can’t—”
“There is a whirlpool bath,” Otto coaxed. “Very relaxing.”
“Well…” I felt myself weakening.
“Plus a lovely smorgasbord. My wife Ottowina is making potato pancakes with applesauce—fresh cinnamon. Applewood smoked bacon. Fluffy diced pepper omelets. Available all day.”
“Yum.” There’s a reason Otto and the rest of the Stieg clan make a go of it in the iffy world of niche products. “Okay.” I pocketed the key. I’d have to run home to tell Mom and get a change of clothes. But first, my errand of mercy. “Is Alexis Byornsson here?”
“Upstairs, last door on the left.”
I headed up. As I approached the door, I thought I heard voices. I slowed.
Yes, that was a woman talking…answered by a deep male voice I recognized only too well.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The deep murmur stopped. Frowning, I knocked.
The woman called, “Come in.”
I cracked the door.
Black eyes stared at me. I blinked. They blinked. Luscious tingles of recognition ran from my crown to my toes.
Aiden.
I flung the door open. We stared at each other. Said at the same time, “Why are you here?” Stared some more. I said, “Synnove wanted me to tell Alexis what happened,” as he said, “Ric didn’t want Dr. Byornsson to worry.” Then we both stared some more.
Then I opened my mouth to invite him to share my whirlpool with me.
Just as Aiden said mournfully, “Fucking happily married friends. Infernal matchmakers.”
I closed my trap. His whole “I won’t be a father” thing at Elena’s meant sex wasn’t simple for him anymore. It had overtones we had to deal with first. So I simply delivered my message to Synnove’s sister.
Then I said, “I’d better be getting home.”
As I started down the stairs, Aiden appeared next to me. “I’ll walk you.”
My heart thrilled but I shushed it. “You don’t have to.”
I expected him to argue. Instead he just shrugged. “I know.”
That made me laugh, defusing some of my defensiveness. “Channeling Han Solo?”
“Only if you’re Princess Leia.” He put a hand on my elbow and steered me out the front. As we crowded through together, he dropped his head near my ear and breathed deep. “You smell wonderful.” He said it almost wistfully.
I shot him a confused glance. “I smell like workout and dirt.”
“You smell like sunshine.”
“Said the creature who hasn’t seen it in a few years.”
“I’ve seen it the past few days—in you.”
“Aw.” But my feet felt lighter.
It was seven blocks of that. Seven blocks of words and touches and almost-gestures that said without saying that despite everything, the untouchable assassin, the enigmatic male, couldn’t keep away from me. His words were all so absurdly sweet and underneath our physical attraction simmered until, by the time we arrived at my house, I was starting to imagine putting that honeymoon bed to use.
We could talk after, right?
On the stoop I turned to him. “I’ll be back.”
Confusion touched his features. “I thought you were going home. Is something wrong?”
“I needed to get a few things.” I paused on the cusp of the words I was afraid to say. Maybe it was all the talk of children but words formed in my heart that I had to say, because I was beginning to suspect if I let him go without a fight I’d regret it for the rest of my life. I pumped courage into my tongue. “Look, I know you’re on the fence, but…wait for me?”
Then I chickened out and ran inside, not wanting to listen to him make up some excuse to avoid me. I understood he’d be rejecting, not me, but his painful childhood. But I wasn’t up to it, not from him, not now.
I left Mom a note under a refrigerator magnet, where she’d see it in the morning. Then I ran upstairs, stuffed a change of clothes and a couple sets of clean undies into my workout duffel, including a sexy, hopeful little red set, and ran back outside.
Aiden was poking at the lopsided wind spinner I’d made in seventh grade shop class. He was still here. I stopped with a hopeful toe-rise. Maybe my luck was finally de-Ruffles-izing.
“What’s wrong?” He flashed to my side.
“Nothing, strangely enough.” I laughed.
“I’ve been thinking.” He nodded at my duffel. “If you want training, let me do it. Elena’s good, but I’m better. I know tricks she won’t.”
That cost him, and I was beginning to understand how much. “Thanks. I’ll take you up on that. Later.” I touched his hand and searched his eyes. “For tonight, I’m going back to Otto’s.”
Now was where his pain would make him leave, but I had to give him the choice. This was no longer about his past. It was about our future.
His flare of nostrils and the slight sharpening of his black eyes told me his thoughts—that the first word in B&BS was beds. Gaze tethered to mine, he said, “Why?”
“Free room.” I patted my pocket, clanking the key. “I was in the right place at the right time.” I realized it as I said it—me, Sunny Ruffles, in the right place at the right time.
“I shouldn’t—”
&nbs
p; I put a finger to his lips, not letting him say no. “I know we need to talk. But I want you with me tonight. I need you with me.”
His black eyes gleamed in the streetlight. How could I ever have thought them dead? He searched my eyes as if he was reading the secrets of the universe in them. Finally he simply said, “I’ll walk you back.” I let myself hope.
But on the porch of the B&BS, he turned to me. “Sunny.”
Now he’d offer some excuse and melt away into the night. In a way it was a relief.
He took my hands and said my name again. His thumb played over the back of one hand. Pleasure ghosted along my skin. His chest started pumping and he looked like he wanted to say more—but nothing came out.
“I understand.” I didn’t want to understand. I wanted him to stay and wrap me in his strength and heat and sink into me again and again until we both exploded in pleasure. “You have to go.”
“I should. But I’m not. I can’t. You smell so good.”
I’d have laughed but his expression was so intense. “If you think I smell good now, wait until I skip upstairs and take a shower.” I winced. Smooth and subtle as a rutted road.
But to my surprise his hands tightened on mine and his gaze heated to burning. His mouth worked as he struggled with some sort of answer. “Maybe…”
I held my breath.
His phone rang.
Not now. But of course now. We were finally on the same page.
I waited. He didn’t answer it. It rang again. I winced and made myself do the right thing. “Don’t you need to get that?”
“It’s Ric, but…but you’re more important.”
I blinked stinging eyes. He was placing my needs, our needs, before his best friend? “What if it’s something only you can do? Answer it. Go on.”
“Well…okay. Thanks.” He slid the phone from his pocket and thumbed it live, listening without speaking. Finally he said, “I see.” He slid the phone away. “You were right. Ric needs more blood. I have to go.”
“Right.” I waited but he didn’t leave, so I had to. I turned and went inside. Going upstairs, after he couldn’t see it, my shoulders slumped.
I took a long, steaming shower for solace. As the hot water ran down my body, I started imagining it was Aiden’s hands caressing my skin, those incredibly sensual, strong and clever hands. I soaped myself slowly, remembering his long fingers, his flicking tongue, until I ached with it. Until the pressure was so bad I exploded.
