I opened my mouth to protest, but she silenced me by pressing her fingers to my lips.
“And don’t give me that innocent ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ answer. There’s no way in hell you would have left the club unless something was wrong. I know you too well.”
She did. And I should have known she’d pop over here the first chance she got. Her vampire abilities were new to her, but it seemed she’d wasted no time perfecting them. Particularly, the ability to teleport. I sighed heavily and closed my eyes. Where to start?
I walked past her to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses. Then I shook my head and put the bottle back, snagging a quart of whiskey and two highball glasses instead.
“This must be really bad,” she said and grabbed the bag of pretzels from the snack bowl I kept on the counter before sitting at the kitchen table.
“It is.” I sat in the chair opposite her and poured some scotch into both tumblers, downing the contents of mine before she’d even had a chance to pick hers up. Her gaze stayed on me while I poured myself another. Not letting the burn register, I raised the glass to my lips again as Maggie’s hand wrapped around my wrist, stopping me. I glared at her, and she let go. I sipped at the smooth golden liquor, this time letting the burn slowly coat my throat.
“He kissed me,” I blurted out.
“What? Who?”
“Lane. He kissed me.”
“When?”
“Tonight.” To avoid the inevitable “where” question to go along with the rest of the five w’s, minus the why—after all, the why of it was obvious—I added, “In the hallway before he went on stage.”
“That’s why he was late?”
“No. I don’t think so.” I’d forgotten about him not appearing on stage until after the first song. “He kissed me when I went back to go to the restroom when we first got there. It was dark. I guess the lights were out for some reason, and he materialized right in front of me, and I ran into him. We both stopped and stared at each other for a couple of seconds, and then he leaned down and kissed me.”
“So this is good news! I knew you two would get together someday.”
I shook my head. “No.”
“No? Why not?” Maggie took a sip of her drink then tossed a pretzel in her mouth.
“He somehow scooted us into the office and kept kissing me. Oh gods, Mags, it was…it was so good. Probably the best kiss I’ve ever had.” I closed my eyes, remembering the surge of heat that had flowed through me as he fondled me. A shiver skated down my spine, settling at my core as I relived his touch.
“Well, that all sounds fantastic, but it doesn’t explain why you’re so miserable.”
I wasn’t sure where to go from there in the story. How to explain exactly what had happened. “He stopped kissing me and shoved me backwards. Not hard or anything, just a gentle push as he stepped away and accused me of putting a spell on him. Saying that must be why he kissed me that way.”
“What? He told you that?”
“I swear. I am so angry. I couldn’t believe he would accuse me of that.”
“I’m so sorry, V.” She stood up then kneeled on the floor in front of my chair and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tightly, her face very close to the crook of my neck. I tensed up and stood. As pissed off as I was, and as comforting as her embrace felt, I wasn’t ignorant of the fact that Mags was still a brand-new vampire, and hugging me without the protection of Cian or another of the bandmates around could be dangerous for me. I gently pushed away from her and exhaled a sigh of relief when I saw the tame smile on her face. She was okay, and she knew exactly why I’d tensed up.
“I won’t hurt you, Vanessa. Besides, you’re two feet taller than me.” Two feet was an exaggeration, and I laughed. “Taking your vein would be a bit of a challenge.”
“Not when I’m sitting down. Plus, you have this newfound vampire strength. You could overpower me in a second.” She’d also tried to bite me the day she turned and had no problem with my height then.
“Right. But still. I have control. Believe me. Besides, I drank a full pack of blood before I came over here.”
“Good to know. I wouldn’t want to have to use any harsh magic on you.”
She went back to her seat and picked up her drink, downing the contents. “Time to get drunk.” She smiled and held out her glass while I poured more. “If it’s any consolation, Lane was acting strangely at home. That’s another reason why I thought he had something to do with your mood.”
“He was?”
“Yeah. He was very quiet all night, which you know is very unlike him. Then he got angry with Cian when he asked Lane why he’d been acting so pissy all evening.”
“He did?”
“Well, yeah. He actually shoved Cian against the wall when Cian asked me why you hadn’t come to the mansion tonight. He growled at him and then took off to his room. It was sort of funny.”
Chapter Seven
Lane
I paced in my room. Then I walked out onto the terrace and listened to the sounds of the night. Watching the headlights of the cars crossing the bridge. This city never slept. There were always vehicles crossing the bridge, no matter what time it was. People going somewhere. Home to the city, home from the city. My city.
I took a deep breath, hoping the smell of salt in the air would take the place of Vanessa’s perfume. But it didn’t. Her scent was in my hair, still on my fingers. I held them to my nose as I inhaled her sweet essence.
I drank the remainder of the scotch I’d poured and set the tumbler down on one of the small circular glass tables. I thought about stretching out on the chaise lounge and watching the stars for a while, but I knew I’d end up trying to jerk off out here. There was only one way to rid myself of the scent of her.
Hot water sprayed over my head and shoulders, soothing my nerves. I couldn’t get the kiss out of my head. Vanessa’s soft skin, the way she’d shivered under my touch, the way she’d trembled from within when I’d slipped my fingers inside her silken folds. She’d been wet for me. Why had I accused her of casting a spell on me? I knew damn well who’d started that kiss. I wanted her. There was no doubt in my mind anymore. But, of course, in typical Lane fashion, I’d surely ruined any chance of ever being with her.
What was she doing now? Did she hate me as much I thought she might? She hadn’t come back to the house with us after the performance tonight. That told me the answer to my question. Goddammit! Yes, she not only hated me, but she also probably loathed every breath I took. I didn’t think I could endure the next hundred years knowing Vanessa Creamer despised me.
It was me who’d started the kiss. It was also me who’d stopped it and ruined the moment, tainting it with accusations I knew were false just to keep her from finding out the truth about me. Why had I done that? Why was it that every time I was in the same room with Vanessa, I couldn’t stop myself from taking the opposite side of anything the woman said? I hadn’t given a thought to her being a witch until…until I began to lose myself in her beauty. I wasn’t afraid of her. It couldn’t be that. I didn’t like the idea of her being a witch, but my body knew better than my brain that I wanted her. Every time she walked into the room, a tremor would skate through my veins. I’d always considered it a bad omen, but now I was beginning to think it was my body telling my mind something it couldn’t fathom—or didn’t want to accept.
As the water flowed over me, my cock grew at the thought of Vanessa. Her lips, so perfect and soft. Accepting. My cock was stiff in my hand as I stroked. As my fingers slid along the smoothness of her folds in my mind, my balls grew heavy and full. Needing release. I pumped hard, and my moan echoed over the granite shower walls. I blinked at the fuzzy vision that appeared before me. That horrible face I’d fought so hard to forget, and my stiff cock went limp in my grasp. I pressed my forehead against the cold wall of the shower and gave in to the tantrum as I pounded my fist against it several times.
“Fuck!�
� I yelled, tugging on my long hair until it hurt. Any harder, and it would come out in clumps. There was no hiding from the demons in my head. I’d been lying to myself about why I’d ended the kiss with Vanessa, blaming it all on her.
After finishing with my shower, I dressed in a pair of lightweight sweats. It was mid-summer, but the night air in the city could get rather brisk. I wasn’t in the mood to go back downstairs, knowing I’d get asked a million questions about why I was being such an ass. I knew I was. I didn’t need anyone’s confirmation. So, I went with my original plan. After my ill attempt at relieving myself, something I hadn’t been able to do in months, I went to sit outside to just watch the stars, drink more scotch, and think about what I should do until the goddamn sun came up.
Chapter Eight
Vanessa
A loud bell chimed in my head. Waves of pain swelled inside my skull, and I carefully opened one eye, but all I saw was light beige. Carpet. Lifting my head slightly, I squinted and recognized the picture above the fireplace. It was a portrait of a woman, lying on her back, a beautiful red scarf flowing over her, shielding her breasts and core, but leaving all the rest visible to the eye. I was on my sofa. I was relieved to know that.
The artwork above the mantel was new. I’d replaced the one that Maggie and I had purchased when we’d first moved into the apartment. Having a picture of Lane and Cian’s maker hanging above my mantle had made me want to vomit every time I looked at it. Of course, we hadn’t known the woman in the picture was Jewels when we purchased it. Jewels was a monster, and I was relieved to remember she was long gone, her body stored away somewhere in some pit, never to come out and hurt anyone again.
I squinted at the bottle of scotch on the coffee table in front of me. An empty bottle of scotch.
Fuuuuuuuck.
No wonder my head hurt so badly.
There was that fucking bell chime again. Ding dong, ding dong. I pushed myself to sit up and rubbed my eyes. The bells went off again. I blinked to clear the fog and realized it was the doorbell. I scuttled to the door and peeked through the peephole. I frowned. Some guy wearing a San Francisco Giants baseball cap gave me a wide, toothy grin up close to the lens.
I looked down at myself to make sure I had clothes on. I wouldn’t have been surprised by anything I was wearing considering the empty bottle of booze, but pleasantly, I saw my favorite, ripped, comfy shorts and blue mesh sleeveless top. I opened the door a crack, and the guy peeked around. “Are you Vanessa Creamer?”
“Yeah. Who are you?”
“Me?” He chuckled. “I’m John. These are for you.” My eyes bulged at the sight of a huge bouquet.
“They’re beautiful,” I said, staring at the bunch of flowers in his outstretched hand. I took them from him. “Thank you.”
“They’re not from me, lady. I’m just the delivery guy.”
I frowned. I couldn’t think of anyone who would be sending me flowers. “Right. Of course. I knew that.” He smiled and turned to go. “Wait! Just a sec,” I called to him, wanting to give him some gratuity.
“No tip necessary, lady. I’ve already been very well compensated. Thanks, though.”
“Oh. Okay. Thank you.” I shut the door and sniffed the beautiful arrangement.
A bouquet of pink and white roses mixed with baby-pink and white carnations, interspersed with button chrysanthemums and some other tiny flowers I didn’t know the name of were all accented with baby’s breath and other sprigs of greens, everything set in a delicate, reflective pink vase. It was gorgeous. I set the flowers down on the table and plucked the card from the center, carefully opening the sealed envelope. Pulling the stiff card out I read,
“Sorry. ~Lane”
Really? That was all he could say? Was I supposed to just forgive him and forget how he’d humiliated me simply because he sent me flowers and a card with one “sorry” word on it? His brother he was not. Fuck him! How the fuck did he ever write any songs? The man had absolutely no gift of poetry in him at all.
I picked up the flowers and tossed the entire bunch—along with the card—into the trash in the kitchen. Then I had second thoughts, maybe I should at least enjoy the flowers. I stood and stared at them for a couple of seconds but still left them there in the trashcan.
My fogged head needed coffee. After making a fresh pot, I poured a cup, adding in two sugars and enough cream to lighten it to a pretty caramel color. I inhaled, closing my eyes and reveling in the delicious aroma that floated up to my nose. I turned to head to the sofa and enjoy my coffee when I jumped as Maggie stood in front of me.
“Damnit, Mags. You need to stop that. And you really shouldn’t do that after the kind of night we had. Do you want to give me a heart attack?”
She smiled. “Sorry. Can I get a cup of that?”
“Wait. What time is it?”
“Nine thirty.”
“In the morning?”
“No. Silly. Would I be here? It’s nine o’clock at night.”
“I slept all day?”
“Well, you didn’t go to sleep until about five this morning. I left you on the sofa, sawing away with a drunken snore at five-thirty. I would have stayed but…the sun…”
“Yeah, I know. I hope Cian wasn’t too pissed off at you for staying with me all that time.”
“No.” She shook her head as she poured coffee into a cup she’d grabbed from the cupboard. “I texted him several times during the night. He understood. He’s not as possessive as you think. I mean, he is when it comes to other men, but he appreciates the relationship you and I have and is very supportive of it. And of you.”
Sinking down onto a chair at the table, I propped my feet up on the one opposite me, holding the cup in both my shaky hands. I took a sip, feeling the instant gratification of that very first sip of coffee in the morning. Or night, I guess.
“You caught a good one, Mags. Too bad his brother’s such an ass. I honestly don’t see how Cian and Lane can be related, let alone twins.”
Mags stood at the counter and sipped her coffee, looking way too perky after last night. “How are you standing? Oh, never mind.” I waved my hand at her. “I forgot vampires heal quickly. I guess that works for hangovers, too.”
She chuckled. “What’s that?” I glanced up to see her frowning. I followed her gaze to the trashcan.
“Flowers.”
“From?”
“Lane.”
“Why are they in the trashcan?” She picked them up; they were still in perfect condition since I hadn’t actually tossed them in. It had been more of a placing just in case I changed my mind. Which, apparently, Mags was doing for me as she sniffed at them before placing them on the counter. “They’re beautiful. Did he send a card?”
“Yeah, it’s in the trash too, I think.” I yawned then drank some more coffee as I watched her bend down and pick the card up out of the trash.
She opened it. “He said he was sorry.”
“Yeah. Real poetic, huh? No clue how the guy can ever write a song.”
She turned the card over and smiled. Then read aloud.
“A perfectly pink and radiant bouquet,
Beautiful as your eyes shimmering like a shiny pool.
Smooth and silky on a warm summer day.
Forgive me, Vanessa, I am a fool.
Yours, Lane”
“What? Where did you get that?” I asked, now on my feet and stomping across the kitchen floor to grab the card from her.
“You didn’t read the backside of the card?”
“No. I just saw the front and thought that was all he’d said.”
“Now who’s the fool?” She smirked.
“Not me. I don’t really care what he said on this card. It’s going to take a lot more than a silly poem to make me accept his apology. Really, Mags, are you siding with him now?”
“It’s not a matter of siding with anyone, V. He likes you, you like him. Why not give the guy a second chance?”
“He has an awfully fucked-up way
of showing how much he likes me. He practically made love to me in the back office and then accused me of casting some damn spell on him. That’s fucked up.”
“Wait, all you told me was that he kissed you. What do you mean exactly by ‘practically made love to you?’”
I sighed, finished the last bit of my coffee, and poured some more. Then took it to the living room, Mags right on my heels. I set the cup down and plopped down on the sofa, propping my feet up on the coffee table. My favorite pillow beside me caught my eye. I plucked it up onto my lap and hugged it like it was a security blanket. Maggie sat across from me on the green-and-pink-flowered chair we’d found at a garage sale last year for dirt-cheap. It had been practically brand new, and it was comfortable, too. I eyed her over the edge of my pillow.
“So, we sat here all night, drinking whiskey, and you only mentioned the kiss. Why?”
I really didn’t want to go into how I didn’t usually let men paw me in dark rooms. Hell, paw me wasn’t even how it was. He had been devouring me, and I’d enjoyed it. “Mags, I…there’s something you don’t know about me.” Her blue eyes grew wide, and she laughed.
“Yeah, right. We’ve been best friends and roommates for five years. I know everything about you, and you know everything about me. I bet I know things about you that you don’t even know.”
“I know I talk a big talk and act like I know a lot about sex, but the truth is, I don’t. I don’t sleep with all the guys you seem to think I do.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve heard you.”
“You’ve heard giggling and maybe some…moans from a guy once in a while, but never really from any actual intercourse. I don’t normally allow guys to do to me what I let Lane do last night.”
“What about Tanner? He slept here a lot.”
“Tanner slept here, but it took over a month before we did anything.” And then he’d dumped me when he realized I didn’t seem to enjoy it or whatever, but I left that part out. Mags didn’t need to know every miserable detail of my sexual experiences. Or lack thereof.
Rocked by a Vampire: Billionaire, Rock Stars, Vampires (Immortal Hearts of San Francisco Book 3) Page 4
