by Jackie Ivie
“What all that means, Stan, is yes. Len has an ex-wife. It also means no. He doesn’t have multiple ex-wives. Does that answer your question?” Akron inserted.
“Then why would he tell Tassanee he has three of them?” Stan asked.
This time it was Akron laughing through the speaker system. Stan decided it still wasn’t funny.
“Oh. Forgive me, gentlemen. This is very amusing. And I don’t get much of that in my position.”
“He told Tassanee he has three ex-wives?” Nigel asked.
“Yeah.”
“Is he stupid or what? Is he trying to drive her off?”
“Very good, Nigel. Very good.”
“What did I say?”
“Can either of you think of a better way to halt a woman’s interest?” Akron asked.
“Don’t look at me, Sir. I spend most of my time trying to get their interest.”
Akron laughed again. Even with the volume at the lowest range, it was impressive. The wood beside Stan’s ears shuddered.
“I do like you Nigel. If I haven’t said it before, I’ll say it now. You are a breath of fresh air in an otherwise tainted un-life. Where was I? Oh yes. Think of this from Len’s perspective. Len’s never managed a relationship with a woman that ends well. Can you imagine how things might work should Tassanee become a disgruntled ex? For eternity? You think fielding calls from a human ex-wife is fun. I can’t imagine having a vampire ex-wife with a vendetta.”
“Oh.”
Both men said it simultaneously.
“Which does explain Len’s argument...doesn’t it? Sit tight, Stan. We’ll send a 4D Team your way. And try to stay out of the way of projectiles.”
“Are you sure he’s Tassanee’s mate?” Nigel asked.
“Oh. Yes,” Akron replied. “I’m positive.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“She hasn’t killed him yet. Oh, Stan? Ditch that laptop. It’s been hacked. And a trace was just started. Nigel? Scramble.”
Binary code started filling Len’s screen. He flipped it over and slid the battery out. And that just made it easier to hear the other two again. Len was past pleading. Sounded like he was begging.
“Come on, babe. It won’t be so bad. You’ll see.”
Some more lightly spoke words.
“If you cry, that’s it. I’ll call another timeout. Debate over.”
Tassanee may have replied again. It could be the breeze through the open window just as easily, too.
“Women always use tears. It’s their biggest weapon. And if that happens, there goes reason and accountability, and any ability to argue logically. Right out into left field.”
Stan decided that was as good a time as any to start whistling again.
CHAPTER FIVE
This was such shit.
He didn’t want to be a vampire. And he shouldn’t have to up and make a decision right now. Without notice. And with such strings attached.
But Len was at the end of his rope. The length of his tether. All out of options. On his last nerve. The edge of disaster. The last bastion of defense. He wondered how many more clichés he could hit with the description. Last card in the deck. Final match in the pack. Hell. He didn’t even have enough rope left to hang himself.
Len settled his head back against the head rest. Nice. Akron’s jets were that, though. If a body had to take an unplanned transcontinental flight, at least it was in luxury. In a well-equipped cabin. Clean. Dimly lit. These were comfortable seats, too. They had adjustable lumbar supports. The seats could easily accommodate a six foot two frame, if he moved the head rest up far enough and didn’t care how far his feet hung over. The seats even reclined. Stop right there, Len. Reclining was dangerous territory.
He should be exhausted. He’d talked until he was hoarse. He could feel the scratch in his throat. He’d paced and ranted and tensed, and tossed things until his muscles complained. Every bit of him felt pretty abused, like he’d done a full day gym session, with a physical trainer. Being up forty-some odd hours straight was adding to the mix. But he wasn’t sleepy. He was too keyed-up.
Because of her. Tassanee. His nemesis.
She sure was beautiful. And extremely well-packaged. And sexy as hell. She sent vibes shooting at him with every passing moment in her company. Even as she just sat there. Opposite him. With a little table between them. In those cute, little harem pants. And that little square, backless bodice. Covered over in a cloak he’d stolen off some poor woman’s laundry line and given Tassanee to wear when he’d been scoping the area out just after dawn. It was a nice cloak, if a tad worn. And he wasn’t backing down. She was to wrap herself totally in it. That instruction came with more arguments that didn’t touch on the real reasons. Her little outfit was too explicit. Entirely too immodest.
And way too frickin’ sexy.
The cloak didn’t help. It only outlined and defined curves he’d practically memorized. Damn. She was gorgeous. Every inch. Starting with her striking, bottomless dark eyes, set in a singularly stunning face, surrounded by lush lashes...and then moving to that kissable mouth of hers. That lengthy, silken slide of dark hair she kept tossing over her shoulder. Oh, she was beautiful. And way too unsettling. No wonder he’d fantasized about her for years.
She was still watching him. He didn’t have to look. He didn’t dare. It was enough he’d almost made her cry. Hell. He was ready to cry. Pitching items against walls and through the window was better than doing what every cell on his body craved and demanded and then fought him over. Grab her. Kiss her. Make her his. Take hours to make slow love to that perfect woman, and then follow that up with a hard, fast, and heavy pounding that would be guaranteed to make certain neither of them had this wakeful, primed problem.
Stan had walked in, saving that disaster. His insertion into their stalemate had been pretty much heaven-sent. Tassanee hadn’t been crying, but her eyes sure looked glossy. Stan had brought the laptop for Tassanee to obliterate. A length of silence later, a chopper had arrived. Could have been minutes. Could have been hours. Len didn’t recall and he didn’t care. Nobody said anything during the ride. Len didn’t remember VAL having a base in Laos, but Akron had connections, and Len didn’t care about that, either. If he remembered right, Len had lifted a hand in farewell as Stan had boarded a different jet. But he didn’t remember or care about that, either.
He was all out of remember and care.
Len licked his lips. They were chapped. He should probably see if he’d stuffed lip balm into a pocket. But that would require moving. And that would alert her that he was still awake. Aware. And supremely interested.
This was such shit. Again.
He didn’t want to be a vampire’s mate. There was too much life change involved. He still lived in the apartment he’d taken when his ex-wife threw him out of his own house. And he was fond of daylight. Loved the warmth of it. Sunbathing out on a nice beach with the water lapping at the shore was his idea of mini-heaven. He spent a lot of time in Bora Bora getting this tan. And he liked bacon and eggs. Fries. A thick, grilled steak. A cold beer. Sleeping in on his days off. All the human stuff.
There was more.
The list of what he’d lose was endless.
Then again... at some point in this life, vampirism might be a viable option. He didn’t want to deal with all the age-related losses: hair, hearing, vision, memory... bone. Muscle tissue degeneration. And he mustn’t forget the other issues, like hemorrhoids, arthritic joints, enlarged prostate problems, bladder control issues, erectile dysfunction... that sounded most unfair. He rather liked his willy exactly where it was and working exactly like it did. Old age sounded like shit. Becoming a vampire might actually be a good idea about then. Or maybe...before his sack started sagging.
All of which was years away at the moment. Lots of time to make heavy duty decisions like turning into a blood sucking entity. Hell. He hadn’t even started a retirement portfolio yet.
Then there was the huge possibil
ity that he’d screw up. His ex-wife had been his high school sweetheart. They’d wed right out of school just before he entered basic. It lasted three years, mainly because he was on active duty the entire time. When he got back and tried to play house, he found out how ill-equipped he was for love and relationships. He didn’t know how a woman’s mind worked, and what he was supposed to say and when. He was clueless that when she asked if she looked fat, she didn’t want the truth. He always said the wrong thing. And just why did the one thing a woman found charming and funny in him become the same thing she ended up hating, anyway? Women didn’t remotely make sense. So, he was sarcastic and a smartass. It wasn’t hidden. They knew that going in.
Tassanee was almost his equal at both, though. She had a mouth and a quick wit, and was one hell of an opponent in a debate. So... maybe, just maybe... he was looking at this wrong. Maybe he should ask her if the vampirism part of this mating thing could wait. See if she’d considered a trial run and wait for him to decide. That might work out. Or she might get pissed off at him and that would be the end of that. And him.
His last relationship had lasted six weeks. Six weeks. And potential death at the end of it. Hmm. It might be worth it.
“Can I sit here?”
He lolled his head her direction. Blinked. That was stupid. It moved his lids over his eyes with a feeling like sandpaper on wood. His eyes watered in defense, blurring everything for a bit. It didn’t change, though. Tassanee was still standing, poised at the seat beside him, waiting. And behind her he could just make out the door to the cockpit. Someone had stuck what looked like the handle of a safety ax through it, effectively locking it. From this side.
Great. She wanted privacy. There wasn’t anyone around to buffer this. And he wasn’t in any condition to fight. But at least, she’d asked. He licked his lips again. Yep. Still chapped. He should have found a lip balm.
“I promise not to touch you,” she continued.
“Wow. You’re really doing a number on my machismo, babe.”
“Your what?”
“It’s a term. For how we guys look at ourselves. I guess the better phrase would be how we project ourselves. You know. To the world.”
“Oh.”
She wrinkled her forehead slightly. That was cute. She didn’t look convinced. She didn’t even look like she understood. Len sighed a little soft sound. Damn. He couldn’t even get his lungs to expand for a big breath. That was going to be awkward.
“Sit down, Tassanee. We have to talk.”
“Again?”
“Yeah,” he replied.
She slid into place, her ass getting sucked into the leather seat like the spot was created especially for it. But what did he know? Maybe it was. It sure didn’t feel like leather caressing his butt at the moment. More like sandbags. A lock of her hair slid across his arm, resting on the elbow of his jacket. He considered it for a bit. And then looked up.
Something pretty damn powerful whooshed through him the moment his eyes connected with hers. It was vast. And sweet. And sent his heart into another level of cardiac rhythm. He had to look away. And fast.
She’d moved her hand to where her hair grazed him. Her finger trailed along the leather of his jacket sleeve. Len considered it for a moment.
“I think you’re in violation, babe.”
“What?”
“No touching. Remember?”
“Oh! You’re so unfair!”
She lifted her hand.
“I’m unfair? Come on. We need to face facts, sweetheart. I’m not the one leaping into your life, claiming instant ownership with no expiration date, no option, and no return clause.”
“What do you want me to say? It’s not like I wanted it.”
Len chuckled. “That’s probably true.”
“Of course it’s true! Everything I’ve said to you is true. Uh... almost everything.”
“Babe. Please. Nobody is accused of telling falsehoods.”
“Yes, you did. You just said that.”
“No. I didn’t. Look. Can we declare a truce here?”
“Truce?”
“I’d like to talk. Not argue. And it’s not me on your side of the cabin, now is it?”
“But you don’t understand! Everything about you calls to me. It’s like... my entire body altered the moment I touched you. I have a heartbeat again. I’m breathing. Sweating. I’m warm. Really warm. I can even swallow!”
Funny she should mention swallowing, but his was more a gulp. Len started searching his inside jacket pocket for a lip balm.
“I can’t stay away from you, Leonard. Don’t you see? You’re my mate. Staying apart from you is like asking a fish to stay out of water.”
He found the tube of lip balm. It was right next to his VAL cell phone. He almost hooted in exultation. Len pulled the stick out, took off the cap and rolled it out a hair, slathering his lips as if that’s all he had to do for the moment. And like nothing she said meant a damn thing. If his hand wasn’t shaking, it would have worked. And, of course, she’d have to notice and speak of it.
“You’re shaking.”
“Yeah. Fancy that,” he replied.
“Why?”
Len used the same concentration as he put the lip balm away. It still didn’t work. But at least his lips felt moister. And a kiss from him wouldn’t scrape the ruby shaded perfection of her mouth.
Shit. Get the brain working, Len. Say anything. However inane and stupid.
“You’re messing with the male machismo again, babe.”
“I am?”
“You know, we guys like to pretend that we’ve got everything handled. We’re in charge. In control. Stuff like that.”
“In control of what?”
“Oh...you know. What we’ll have for lunch. Where we’ll spend our free time. Who we’re going to text. Our own destiny. You know...stuff like that. It’s usually a farce. But nobody calls us on it. Except you. Right now.”
“Oh.”
He’d done a piss-poor job of explaining again. She looked even more confused. Like he needed more proof that women didn’t think at all like men. This time his sigh had a bit more air to it. It actually lifted some of the strands of her hair still caressing his jacket sleeve.
“Let’s set some ground rules. Okay?”
“To what?”
“Our little conversation. Rule number one. No touching. At least...not unless it’s asked first and approved. Rule two. No kissing. Same clause. Rule three. If rule two gets broken, there is absolutely no fang-work allowed.”
“Fang work?”
“Blood exchange. None. Zero. Zip. Zilch. Got it?”
“This is stupid.”
She slunk a little lower in her chair and huffed a bit, proving she definitely had the capability to breathe, and she was already pretty adept at using it as a weapon.
“You want to stay here or return to your side of the cabin?”
“I am a vampire. I can do what I want.”
“True. Unfortunately, since you are a vampire that means I can’t do what I want.”
“What?”
“Exactly.”
He waited. She didn’t get his meaning. She looked even more confused than before. And he really needed to move his eyes from hers if he wanted to continue making words. But somebody else was in control of his movements. And his mouth.
“I’m saying I’m not immune to you, Tassanee. Okay? Far from it. Light years from it. I’m in sixth gear on a five speed. My body is driving me bonkers with it. Now, wait. Stop that. No touching Leonard. First rule. Remember?”
“To hell with the rules.”
Her voice sent shivers. And then she was straddling his lap, shoving his jacket open, and ripping the rest of his t-shirt apart. Good thing it was cheap, dollar store material. And then she ran her hands over abs he’d toned to rope-like consistency, and pecs that shuddered beneath her touch. His skin was in worse shape. Gooseflesh rose and flowed outward in waves from everywhere she placed her fingers.
But he was the violator of Rule Two. It was him going in for the kiss. And it tasted exactly as he’d suspected. And twice as hot.
Oh, he was in trouble. Tassanee had some major kissing skills. Every flick of her tongue sent signals shooting through him. They raced to beat the shivers scoring his belly, all of it going one place. Down. And then he felt a slice on his inner lip, and at the first taste, Len’s body went stiff with the reaction. The wonder. Delight. Like an entire rack of firecrackers had decided to go off, taking his nervous system with it.
And she was absolutely right. To hell with the rules.
CHAPTER SIX
First things first. While he could still think. Maneuver.
Hell.
Breathe.
Len reached down and yanked on the recline lever, sending the chair into a flat surface that angled his hips upward. And oh... sweet! She seemed to know exactly what to do. Her legs shimmied the length of his thighs, so she could settle right atop the bulge at his crotch, and start rocking, as if there weren’t at least four or more layers of material in the way. Maybe more. He hadn’t been counting all the gossamer folds on her harem pants. And he didn’t dare tear them. It would be bad enough arriving stateside looking like an advertisement for lust and passion. It would be worse if he tore her clothing. Oh. This was bad. Insane.
Unbelievable.
Her cloak slid to the floor. It might have been him shoving at it. It was probably more the way she shrugged it off while her hair enwrapped him, surrounding him with a curtain that felt exactly like it looked. Silken. He had to brush strands of it aside to reach her waist. Slide his fingers up the sides of her little square bodice. Slant them inwards...and then...
Holy shit.
Len lurched at the first touch, each palm experiencing absolute perfection as he framed and explored and cupped. She had perfect breasts. Pert. Sizeable. Topped with little nipples that stabbed at his palms as he massaged and enjoyed. Her little bodice top was attached with a string about her neck and one about her waist. Neither one did a thing to hamper him. The bodice seemed crafted for ease of access. Len scrunched it into a twist of material down her front, dividing and displaying, and...wow. The view of cleavage hadn’t lied earlier. She was perfect. And he couldn’t get enough. His fingers massaged and held and adored. She was perfect. Absolutely perfect. To a groan-inducing level. She may have felt the same since the moment his groan separated the suction of their mouths, she arched backward with some really sweet-sounding cries that rebounded off the cabin walls. And they ended with little, panted pleas for more.
