No Fear

by Allie Harrison

  The idea made him dizzy with want. With his tongue, he licked her throbbing pulse. He sighed and rested his lips against the hollow of her throat for a long moment. It took every once of energy he possessed to move away and leave her flesh intact. He took several deep breaths, bringing his need, his desire, under control so she wouldn’t see how close she’d come to being completely his, to experiencing his bite. To learning that he was vampire.

  He poured his energy into suckling one nipple, then the other. She gasped again and arched her back, pressing her breasts against his mouth. Once the sharpness was gone from his teeth, he gently bit her. She cried out in pleasure. She said his name again and again.

  “Your voice grows deeper when it’s filled with passion,” he told her as he looked up and met her gaze.

  She stared at him and smiled. “Your eyes turn silver.”

  His only regret about moving further down her body was that from this position, she couldn’t keep her passionate hold on him. He could reposition his body so she could still touch him, but he didn’t. Instead he gently moved her, swinging her hips around so that she was almost completely out of the water as he moved his kiss down her belly to the insides of her thighs. He hadn’t planned to keep this as close as possible to her dream, but he really wanted to experience every aspect of that dream.

  She shivered at the touch of his mouth and his tongue between her legs. Because he was so attuned to her, so connected to her at this moment, he could read her almost as well as he had the night before when he touched her and entered her dream. So he clearly felt the passion his touch brought to her, and it heightened his own. He was surprised at how quickly his mouth brought her to climax. She shuddered beneath him and tried to pull away.

  He held her legs and refused to let her go as he repositioned himself over her. “Emma, look at me.” She met his gaze. “Do you trust me?” he asked, needing to know.

  “Yes.”

  “No regrets?” he had to ask.

  “Only that you’re taking far too long,” she replied.

  He pulled her back further into the water, so they could experience the energy of it. He knew his next move might hurt her, might even shatter the trust he saw in her eyes. If she had ever been with another man, it had been a very long time for her. In one smooth, quick move, he made himself a part of her.

  She sucked in a heavy breath at the invasion. Then she called out his name and clung to him, her nails raking his back as he settled within her, allowing her time to accommodate him. Her breathing was ragged and matched his ragged breaths as she stared up into his eyes and he stared down into hers.

  And he thought he saw understanding in her gaze—understanding that there was no turning back to the lives they’d lived before, understanding that now she was his and he was hers. Understanding that no one else would ever know her as he now knew her.

  “That feels . . .”

  “Exquisite,” he finished for her, as he had in the dream.

  “Definitely,” she agreed with a smile. Then she giggled softly. “I think we said these same words in the dream I had of you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. And just like in the dream, I feel like you’ve been made to fit me.”

  He leaned down and kissed her, needing to taste her, needing to keep his teeth hidden from her as passion overcame him and they elongated again. He hadn’t known this would be so uncontrolled for him, when control had always come so easy for him. He lowered his head so she couldn’t see his face and whispered in her ear, “Perhaps we were made to fit one another.”

  Slowly, James moved over her. And he felt that his words were true. They were made to fit one another. Pleasure rocked through him and he was lost in her gaze as the rest of the world fell away.

  “You were right about the water,” she whispered. “This is perfect, warm and wonderful.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” And when, at last, he spilled into her, he pressed his face against her neck, holding his mouth firmly closed because he could no longer retract his fangs. He bit the insides of his lips when she cried out and arched against him. The smell of her, of her climax, of their love making nearly sent him into a frenzy.

  “You’re hurting me . . .”

  He realized he squeezed so tightly that he nearly crushed her arms in his hands, and he loosened his grip.

  She panted as she came down to earth again. She lightly kissed his throat.

  James groaned and rolled away from her. His control was gone. But he managed to hold himself like a tight drum and keep his lips pressed together. And when she curled up against him, he wrapped his arms around her. He concentrated on the steady sound of their hearts beating together and found he could curb his appetite and drive to taste her again if he stared at the dark night and the rain on the glass roof.

  Some time later, James carried Emma to her bed. She slept in his arms, as he knew she would. She would probably sleep an hour or two. To his relief, he felt no hint of a transformation taking place within her. According to Deke, his seed could be potent, although not as potent as the venom in his bite. It would take several times of making love with her over a few days to begin her transition.

  Yet, she was his now in more ways than being his lover. She would now feel him as her mate, and she couldn’t be with another. Even though she was not a transformed vampire, she would be attuned to him. She would feel his presence and dream about him when she slept. She would recognize him in a crowd. James had no doubt he could easily speak into her mind, if he was so inclined. And as he looked down at her beauty, he had no regrets. He had wanted her. He still wanted her. He would always want her. He would die to protect her. He would love to do nothing more than make love with her again when she awoke. But legend said his seed could be potent and too much of it could transform her. That was enough to bring his desire to a slow—not a screeching—halt. And as long as she was not looking at him with desire in her eyes or kissing him with her sensual mouth, he thought he might be able to keep it at a snail’s pace for a while. Besides, first he had to make her something to eat. From what Deke had told him long ago when he first confessed that Emma was his mate, when she woke, she would be hungry.

  He’d feed her, and then he’d find some way to tell her the truth about himself—and about what could happen to her if they didn’t curb their hunger. Although he supposed they could just practice safe sex from now and use protection. He shook his head. Yes, they could do that.

  But he still had to be honest with her…

  * * * *

  He stood only yards away, separated from Emma and Winchester by a mere sheet of glass.

  He was already angry when he’d arrived at Emma’s. He’d felt Deke Price’s presence a moment before Deke had kicked in Lily’s door, and he’d been forced to let go of all those wonderful emotions. Lily’s fear had been so invigorating, so delicious, almost as enticing as Emma Gray’s had been five years ago. But Deke had interrupted him before he could complete her terror.

  He furiously clenched his fists and worked to ignore the weakness that threatened him at the lack of fulfillment after he had expended so much energy. He had wanted to destroy Deke for the interruption, but channeling his energy to create the nightmares always left him weaker, vulnerable. So he had swept through the stormy night to Emma Gray, needing to see her, needing to feel her closeness and listen to her heartbeat. Knowing the anticipation of having her would calm him, he’d searched her out at home.

  Only to find her in the arms of Chief James Winchester.

  He watched them, anger filling him until his eyes were red and bulging.

  He saw them come out of a room beyond the pool, obviously a shower since they were wet and their clothes were gone. They were so caught up in one another, they noticed nothing else about them—not the storm outside or the rain that pounded unendingly against the glass ceiling or him.

  He watched them, filled with lust and desire and need—and hate. Yet, as he stared at them through the storm
and took in every move they made, all he could do was clench his fists until his nails became claws and bit into his palms. He didn’t even bother to use his powers to heal himself as his blood dripped from his fists and mixed with the rain. He couldn’t care less that all his teeth became pointed, not just the fangs that appeared, and he did nothing to retract them. He hadn’t even noticed them until he tasted his own blood and discovered that he bit the inside of his lip.

  She was not afraid of the police chief. His rage grew when he realized that the fear he’d instilled in her five years ago no longer ruled her. The fact that time and time again she fearlessly looked deep into Winchester’s eyes only added fuel to the already out-of-control fire within him. How dare she do this to him. How dare she!

  He didn’t want to stay and watch, and yet he was unable to tear himself away, unable to force his legs to move. So he stayed and watched and listened to every lusty, needing moan they let out. He heard their passionate words to one another. He wanted more than anything to send Emma Gray a message, to say something simple like, “Are you enjoying yourself?” just to let her know he was close-by. He would even have liked to say something like, “The way Winchester tickled that birthmark on your hip bone with his tongue must have really turned you on,” so she would know he watched her and knew her every move. It would have been interesting to see if he could have sent his touch to her and make her think it with Winchester’s. But he had not been invited into her house, so all he could do was stand and watch and do nothing about the building fury that mixed with the unrelenting need within him.

  Emma Gray was supposed to be his. He had wanted her ever since that night when she had kept her eyes closed and had been so unattainable to him. It was for her that he practiced with his other victims.

  Desire welled in him so fiercely that its power held more energy than the escalating storm around him, more energy than all the water in the pool where Winchester held Emma. And he was unable to unleash it, so it boiled within him like a disease he couldn’t cure.

  His desire to kill James Winchester slowly grew inside him until it was uncontrollable. He pretended his clenched fists were wrapped around Winchester’s throat, and he slowly choked the life from him. Then he revised his plan for Emma, perfected it. He would make Emma Gray love him. And he would do it in front of James Winchester. He would allow James to watch as he tasted Emma’s blood and filled her with his venom. And once she was his, he would be able to make love to her as Winchester was doing now. James could watch that, too. Then, as the ultimate revenge, he would order Emma to kill James Winchester slowly and painfully, and she would want to kill Winchester because she would belong to him.

  Yes, that was the perfect plan, and he smiled through the downpour as he stared through the glass looking in on the pool. He could see his image reflecting back at him, and his pointed teeth seemed to sparkle through the rain. He needed nourishment, and he needed it soon. The faster he built his strength, the faster he could make Emma Gray his.

  He moved away from the pool house, allowing the storm to swallow him while he searched for other prey. There were so many choices.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Another Victim

  Ginger Rashmyer was probably one of the few people on the island who welcomed the storm. Lines were already down in various parts of the island, so her husband, Raymond, who worked electrical maintenance, would be out repairing them, probably working all night to keep the people of Medusa’s Island in the light. Ginger was very happy not to have to be stuck in the house with Raymond, who, if he were at home, inevitably would be on the sofa with the latest sporting event playing out on the television and a can of beer in his hand. At every time-out or commercial break, he would bellow for her to bring him another beer or a bag of chips or make a bowl of popcorn. The entire time, he would gripe at her that the living room was a mess and she should be a better housekeeper. Or the laundry wasn’t folded as he liked, or he wanted hamburgers for supper when she fixed spaghetti. It didn’t matter. He would be unhappy with something she did or something she didn’t do. And since she’d gone nearly four days without being hit, tonight would probably be the night. Raymond seldom went longer than three nights.

  So with him gone, she had a night free. Hallelujah!

  And since he was already gone when she got home from work, and there was only a quick note telling her where he was, she didn’t have to tell him about the speeding ticket she got on her way to work early that morning.

  Damn. How was she going to get the money together to pay the ticket without him finding out? And that stupid little officer who gave her the ticket should be shot. How had that little weasel ever got through the police academy?

  She could only hope Raymond would be out all night and be so tired he’d just drop when he came home. Otherwise, he was bound to be madder than a wet hornet for having to be out in the rain. She knew she didn’t want to be out in that storm at all. Just getting from the curb to the door had left her soaked to the skin.

  In the mud room, she tossed her wet clothes into the washer, added a few from the hamper and turned the switch. The machine hummed to life. She picked up a towel and used it to squeeze the rain from her hair, then tossed it in with the clothes. Clad in nothing but her underwear, she moved through the house toward the bedroom to get some dry jeans and a sweatshirt before she made herself a sandwich.

  That was another reason to love the storm. She didn’t have to cook. She could fix herself a sandwich and sit down with the latest book she was reading. As she reached the bedroom, there was a knock at the front door.

  She was more mystified than startled to think anyone would be out on a night like this. “Now, who would be out in this weather?” she said aloud, despite the fact that there was no one there to reply. Not taking the time to find her sweats, she slipped on her robe that was lying on the end of the bed.

  When she opened the front door a couple minutes later, she found herself instantly caught in a gaze unlike any she’d ever seen. And once she was caught, there was no denying what was asked of her. . .

  * * * *

  “And that’s not all,” Deke went on, “Lily insists that the shower was filled with water, that it wouldn’t go down the drain and the door wouldn’t open. She says that in another few moments, she would have drowned.”

  “But that’s not what you saw?” James asked, gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles cramped.

  “No, when I kicked open the bathroom door, I only saw Lily in the shower, beating on the door and screaming. The water was on, but it was going down the drain just fine,” Deke replied.

  “And you felt him?” James asked.

  “Just a rush before he was gone. I’m almost certain the bastard was outside the window, but he was gone by the time I got in here. There’re candles lit all over the place. Lily says she lit them, says he told her to, and he also told her to open the window. She even thinks he had stew cooking on the stove, but there’s no sign of that,” Deke explained. “I have to admit, now that it’s over, that this guy is pretty scary. How can he make them see so many things at once? Do you have any idea how he can do it?”

  “I have no idea, specifically. But it looks as if he’s using energy from the earth, fire, water and wind. How is she now?”

  “Her heartbeat is back to normal, and she’s resting comfortably on the sofa while I heat up something warm for her to drink. She told me about a guy named Quinn. Ring any bells?”

  “Too many,” James put in. “Did she say anything that will help tell us who he is?”

  “No. Apparently he appeared to her as a high school teacher.” Deke paused. “James, there’s something else.”

  “What?” James was almost afraid to ask.

  “When she fell into my arms and I touched her, I felt—”

  He sounded as if he’d been hit by a fire truck, and when he didn’t go on, James chuckled harshly, understanding what Deke was saying. He’d found his own Emma. “Don’t leave her; he may co
me back for her.”

  “Yeah, well, if he decides to do that, he’s in for the shock of his life.”

  James chuckled again. “Welcome to the club, pal,” he muttered as he looked down at Emma’s sleeping form.

  * * * *

  Emma felt as if she floated between the state of sleep and wakefulness. She thought she heard thunder. Then she thought she heard bells. The only thing she was certain about was the sound of James’s voice.

  “Emma, you have to wake up.”

  She felt his hands on her, and she recognized them, just as she recognized his voice. He was James.

  For a moment, she was carried away again, carried away to a distant place where there was a large fire and dancing flashes of white lace blowing in the wind. She felt sand between her toes. Were she and James on the beach, dancing in front a large bonfire? He held her hand; she recognized his kiss. She looked up at him in firelight. She heard the word, “Forever . . .”

  Then he smiled and his teeth were . . .

  Fangs!

  She sat up in bed before she was fully awake. Instinctively, she held the quilt to her chest. Then she nearly fell forward, reaching, grabbing for anything to break her fall. She caught James’s arms.

  “Emma, wake up. You’re dreaming,” he said.

  She stared at him and tried to focus. “God, my head feels like it weighs fifty pounds. Have I been drinking?” For a moment, she couldn’t remember where she’d been or what she’d been doing before she fell asleep. Hadn’t she just been in the pool with James? She remembered the water. But had it been her pool, or the ocean waves trying to reach the fire on the beach?

  “James?” She rubbed her head.

  “Emma, we need to get to the clinic.”