by Mary Hughes
“Okay, that’s enough,” Bo said. “The fledgling needs his rest.”
“But—”
“He’ll be fine,” Elena repeated. “You can come back tomorrow night.”
“Well…all right.” I waved at my brother. “Love you, Dirk.”
“Uh oo oo, Uhhy.”
Love you too, Sunny. I blinked back tears of relief. My brother would indeed be fine.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Now that I knew Dirk was all right, I set about getting Aiden that second chance with Madison and Milwaukee.
Elena escorted me upstairs, then she and her husband left. Apparently they patrolled the city regularly for marauding vampires, like beat cops. Aiden was still busy with Dirk. I hied myself to the kitchen, sat at the table and optimistically whipped out my phone.
Vampires were apex predators; I was counting on that making them stupidly competitive.
I started with Madison. After identifying myself I said, “You should know the Milwaukee master is meeting with Blackthorne here in Meiers Corners.” I wasn’t lying. I planned to call Milwaukee right after this, and I wasn’t taking no for an answer.
Proway sniffed. “And this should interest me, why?”
“Because if Vingt gets to Blackthorne first and brokers a deal, he’ll get all of Blackthorne’s knowledge. You do know Blackthorne is an expert warrior? There’s no better. He’d give Milwaukee an edge. If Vingt meets Blackthorne first.”
“Let him.” She hung up.
Well, she hadn’t said no. Convincing myself that deep down she’d taken the bait, I called Milwaukee. “Madison is meeting with Blackthorne in Meiers Corners. She’ll be here shortly. Shouldn’t you do something about it?”
“She can meet with a dozen men for all I care.” The slammed phone said I’d touched a nerve.
But while I hoped they were hightailing it here, clamoring for Aiden’s expertise, I didn’t really think from those calls that they were. I hadn’t gotten Aiden his second chance, and may have even made things worse.
It brought back all my doubts, my fears. I was such a Ruffles. Bad timing, worse luck. What made me think the love—or at least attention—of a good man could change that? I phoned in sick to work, then left my phone and optimism on the table and trudged downstairs.
Aiden found me sitting on the basement steps, staring at nothing. I expected him to misinterpret my funk, to reassure me Dirk would be fine, to smother me in words or crush me in a hug.
Instead he sat on my step with me.
In his simple silence I felt all the compassion and support in the world. Like before, the vacuum pulled at my words, my feelings. “I’m such a Ruffles.” I turned to him and dove beneath his arms; I didn’t snuggle with him so much as wrestle myself into his embrace.
“A Ruffles?” His arms tightened around me. “What do you mean by that?”
I just shook my head. I wasn’t ready to weigh him down with the appalling idiocy that all implied. Instead I snuggled deeper, as if I could meld with his strength. “Aiden, please? I need you.”
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Sunny…”
I grabbed him by the collar and stared up into his eyes. My gaze must’ve conveyed the urgency words couldn’t. He didn’t argue, didn’t make excuses. He simply carried me to our room, got naked and did it.
Misting took care of his clothes. His clever, strong hands took care of mine. His hands took care of getting me wet too, along with the heat of his bare body stretched out on top of mine and plenty of deep, passionate kisses.
“Now,” I whispered, wrapping my thighs around his hips.
As he slid in, I clutched his muscular shoulders. I knew what this cost him. The possibility of pregnancy, the specter of becoming an abusive father, meant this was more than just intercourse for him. This was a huge commitment to an iffy, and probably horrendous, future.
He did it without question, just because I’d needed and asked. It made the gift all the more precious.
He stroked inside me, slow and easy, our slick fronts pressed together, our mouths and hands caressing.
It was leisurely and sweet. Comfort sex. The kind I could imagine having when I was old and my joints creaked.
When we were old, Aiden and I together. Pleasure rushed me at the thought. His next thrust slid in all the way, filling me completely.
We both groaned.
He rolled his hips into me, faster now. His cock thrust deep, his fangs coming out to play, teasing my flesh wickedly until I was flushed and swollen and ready.
“Any time,” I said.
“First tell me what you meant,” he said. “You’re such a Ruffles?”
I gasped. “Not now. Thrusting now. Biting now. No talking now.”
He stilled. “Now. Talking.”
“Arg. You are so demanding.”
He gave me his subtle smile.
“Fine.” I licked the salty sheen on his chest. “I always show up at the wrong time.” I flicked my tongue over his nipples. “Like when I fell across Eloise and chased her to Settler’s Square?”
He rewarded me with renewed thrusting and fingered my nipple until it sang. “Wasn’t that simply good police work? Following your suspect, waiting for the best time to make an arrest?” He bent and sucked the nipple into his mouth until I sang. With one last lick he switched his attention to the other.
“Maybe,” I gasped. We’d started slow but by now my heart kicked double-time. “But I got used as a hostage to trap you.”
“Not your fault I’m stupidly protective. Besides, you rescued me from the trap.” He kissed his way to the crook of my neck, continuing his rhythmic thrusts. “And she’d have figured out a way to trap me without you. I was lucky you were there.” He licked my earlobe. A shiver tickled up the shell.
“Well, maybe.” I played my fingers along his abs as they rolled under my touch, crunching and extending. I loved the feel. “The first coffee incident?”
“Your brother, stumbling at the wrong time.” He lifted his head from my neck to look me in the eye. “In fact, I’d argue you’ve been stumbling in at just the right time. Starting with that first night when you managed to make me late for my own bombing.”
“Elena said something like that.” I gazed up at him in wonder. “Did I really?”
“You did.” Nestled deep inside, he gazed warmly at me. “Know what I think? I think you, Sunny Ruffles, are a very lucky woman. And I’m a very lucky male to have found you.”
Found. Something clicked inside, something that said This One—something that swept me off the edge of forever into the swirling chasm of long, shivering climax. I was joined by his rupturing inside me, spilling joy.
With Aiden, Ruffles luck really did seem good.
We fell asleep. A couple hours later I woke to insistent knocking.
“Sun-Hee?” It was Elena.
“Wha…?” I had to use extra muscles to breathe under Aiden’s limp weight. Slow and sweet meant the orgasm had an extra sucker punch.
“You left your phone in the kitchen. Someone called for you. Twice.”
“Be right there.” I nudged a muscled shoulder. Aiden slid off me, rolled lithely to his feet and held out a hand to help me up.
We dressed. I unlocked the door and Elena handed me the phone.
It started ringing. The phone’s display read Nieman’s Bar.
Aiden snarled. “Camille? What does she want?”
Vampires, sheesh. “That’s what I’m trying to find out. Hello?”
“Sun-Hee Ruffles? Hello, darling. I’m Camille Lebeau, owner of Nieman’s Bar. A couple of cheeseheads showed up here looking for you and Blackthorne.”
Crap. Milwaukee and Madison, together without a referee? “Heading over now.”
We ran, Elena and Bo following us. The moment we hit sidewalk Aiden swept m
e up and carried me, so fast my hair whipped in the wind. I’d have enjoyed it if not for the thought of Nieman’s as ground zero in a vampire flame war.
Doom is rarely what you imagine. In my case, it tends to be worse.
Nieman’s was a typical neighborhood tavern. A rail studded with peanut-heaped bowls ran the length of the room, a long framed mirror behind it. Tall postage-stamp tables were scattered along the far wall, but serious drinkers sat at the bar. Behind it, Buddy the bartender efficiently poured glasses and drew pitchers.
I didn’t see any of that. The moment I got inside, soft arms grabbed me and cinched me in a squeeze that made my head pop. My elbow reared automatically for a spear hand to the solar plexus, to render the attacker unable to breathe with possible internal damage.
Before I could release the attack, a sweet scent overwhelmed me, and all my muscles went limp. Not chloroform. Worse.
Mom.
“Sunny, hello! What are you doing here at Nieman’s? Did you know your new friends are here, looking for you? I was just making their acquaintance!”
Of course she was.
“Harold, Pat, here is my daughter the police officer.” She grabbed Milwaukee with one hand, seized Madison with the other, and pulled them together as I stared like a frozen turkey. In the neon-enhanced darkness, Milwaukee was all white-blond hair and chiseled cheekbones; Madison’s full curves were stunning in a little black number.
They glared red death at each other. Then, like two magnets repelling, they pulled from my mother’s hands and stalked off to separate ends of the bar.
“Poor dears.” My mother tsked. “They are having a little marital spat. Give them time.”
“Mom, they’re not married.”
“Significant others, living together, whatever. Speaking of, who is this?” Mom clapped her hands—and grabbed for Aiden. Even his ninja reflexes didn’t save him, or maybe he let himself be captured for the maternal examination. “Is this the Aiden Blackthorne I’ve heard so much about? I am so happy to finally meet you. Detective Strongwell told me all about you.”
I sliced Elena a hairy eyeball. She shrugged.
Aiden gently extracted himself and bowed. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Ruffles.”
She gave a delighted crow. “How nice your boyfriend is!”
“Yes, he…wait, my what? Mom, Aiden isn’t my boyfriend.”
“Of course he is. Just look at you!” She grabbed each of us by the head and smooshed our cheeks together; either Aiden cooperated or she was just that strong. “You are a beautiful couple.”
Light flashed with the electronic kashick of a phone’s camera shutter. “Smile,” Elena said, conveniently after the fact. She checked her display and her smile widened. “Yeah, a beautiful couple.” She showed it to us.
We were a gookie-faced couple.
“This is so going on TwitFace.” She wandered away.
Things were getting out of hand. “Mom, we need to talk—”
“Just a minute, dear,” she said. “Buddy, pitchers of your best Doppelbock for everyone, and boilermakers for us! Sunny is celebrating.”
“I am?”
Behind me, a woman in leather lederhosen, black eye shadow and not much else called gleefully, “You heard her, Buddy. Doppelbock boilermakers for everyone.”
“Mom said pitchers.” I waved at Buddy, who was hauling pricey-looking 160 proof bottles from the top shelf. “No, wait—”
“You are celebrating your engagement,” Mom said.
“What?” Sanity derailed. “Why would you think that?”
“Well, after the shenanigans Dirk heard going on in the police restrooms—”
“Thanks, Mom.” Me, a lucky woman? Aiden seriously needed to upgrade his definition of luck, maybe swap the L for a Cl or F.
I wanted to fix things but didn’t know where to start—Mom’s matrimonial beam, Elena’s showing the picture to everyone, Buddy’s loading trays of pricy boilermakers, or the nonverbal battle between Milwaukee and Madison escalating across the length of the bar from stuck-out tongues to evil eyes and several rather rude finger placements.
Yeah, ground zero, vampire flame war. Start there.
Lederhosen Lady, who must have been Camille, didn’t help matters, cranking up a new sound system. The bar reverberated with the theme from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. Madison and Milwaukee started toward each other like a Western gunfight at high noon. I could almost hear the ching of spurs.
I nudged Aiden in the ribs. “Do something. They’re about to kill each other.”
“What?” Aiden whispered back. “Most of my solutions involve killing them first.”
“Damn. Too late anyway.” They’d reached the middle.
Madison drawled, “What a nice surprise seeing you here.” If tone of voice was a knife, Madison had just disemboweled him.
“Likewise,” Milwaukee sneered, a verbal punch to the nose. “How have you been?”
“Fi-ine.” She stretched and curled the syllable into a hangman’s noose.
“Good. So glad to hear it.” He swung his words like an axe.
I sighed. Yup, the Ruffles playlist includes “Oh Say Can You See (No the Flagpole’s in the Way)”, “We All Live in a Yellow Van-Down-by-the-River” and “Rock Me Like a Novocain”.
“Except…” Madison turned away, a moment of vulnerability on her face. “My first lieutenant…I’m afraid he’s crowding me out.”
I was shocked.
To everyone’s shock, Milwaukee replied, “Then he’s an ass. Get rid of him.”
She sighed. “I can’t.”
“Of course you can.”
“No, he’s married to my personal assistant and I don’t want to hurt her. I’m afraid to lose her…it’s complicated.”
“What’s complicated? Just get rid of the cluck. You can always get another PA.”
“You’re not listening.” She scowled. “I don’t know why I bother telling you anything. You never listen to me.”
“I never listen to you?” He reared back. “I’ve told you a thousand times to get rid of that asshole and he’s still there.”
“Oh, and I should turn to you, when you’re the one who walked out on me last time?”
“We’ve been over that! My human factotum’s mate was in labor and I’d promised the man I’d come home—”
“Boilermaker?” Buddy shoved his tray between them.
Glaring, Milwaukee snatched two drinks and offered one combatively to Madison. She took it and they clinked glasses like they were punching faces, chugged back in tandem and clanged the empties onto the tray in dual clacks. Buddy quickly placed fresh glasses in their hands then came to where Aiden and I stood with Elena and Bo.
“Boilermaker?” Buddy offered us the tray. “Mrs. Ruffles is paying.”
I wanted to beat my head against the wall to make the physical pain match the idiocy, but a boilermaker’d have to do. I grabbed one and drank.
And promptly heaved a lung. That vodka was pure grain alcohol.
“I’ll have one,” Elena said. “Since I’m done nursing.”
“Me too,” Bo said.
“Two it is, Mr. Strongwell.” Buddy handed one to Elena and two to Bo. Apparently he wanted to make Camille all the cash he could.
Bo looked at one glass, then the other, then shrugged and drank down both.
He had the right idea. I opened my throat and poured. The alcohol glow hit, making this all seem not quite so bad.
Milwaukee and Madison continued to yowl at each other. Buddy said, “You need to go talk to them. Blood is hard to get out of wood.”
“Right.” I sucked it up, paused, knocked back one more for courage. I may have also taken a moment to make a few comments on our picture on TwitFace.
But then I resolutely grabbed Aiden’s arm and steamed over
to the caterwauling pair.
The yowling turned out to be singing. Milwaukee and Madison yodeled, arm-in-arm, fresh boilermakers sloshing in their free hands. Huh. I didn’t think vampires got that drunk. Maybe they were young, or Buddy had something top-top-shelf that liberally lubricated their argument.
Milwaukee saw us first. He broke off singing to give us a sappy smile. Chunks of his perfect comb-back had come loose and flipped over his forehead, waving as he nodded. “My good friends! Look who’s here, honeybunch. It’s our good friends.”
“Lover!” Madison turned toward us, taking a slug. Her hair was mussed. “They want us to susport…suspirt…support them fighting Nosferatu.”
“Shh,” Aiden murmured. “Not everyone here knows.”
“Oh.” She put a finger to her lips, ignoring the fact that she used the hand with her boilermaker. “Shh.” She blew like a hurricane, enveloping us in a cloud of alcohol.
“Confidentially,” Milwaukee said loud enough for Canada to hear, “we’d fight Nosy in a second if we thought we could win. He’s been infiltrating our shitties…cities with Lestats, pretending it’s not him but we know it is, the sly bastard.”
Madison nodded. “We should kick his ass out together. Right, lover?”
“But who would lead us, honeybunch?” Milwaukee frowned. She frowned back.
They lit up in tandem and turned together toward Aiden. “Blackthorne, old buddy!”
His hands shot up, and he backed away. “No. Uh-uh. You want Ric. I’ll call him.” He pulled out his phone and after a glance at me and receiving a nod, glided off.
Milwaukee sighed mournfully. “Just as well. Dunno which of our chitties…shitties…titties…crap. We dunno where Nosy’ll drive through.”
Madison said, “Right. We don’t want to leave the wrong city defenselessless.”
In vino veritas. Or better, im Wodka Wahrheit—truth in vodka. They’d spotted a flaw in our plan. We didn’t know where to amass our forces.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“You have to help me,” Aiden said the moment Ric picked up. “They want me to lead them.”
“Whoa, wait.” Ric laughed feebly. “Who wants you to lead what?”
