The sun started to rise.
And the guy started to smoke. And scream. And beg for his life. We stood at attention and watched as the sun fried his ass. He exploded into ash.
Nobody said anything for a long time. Then the General led us to Building 41. From day one, it had been made clear that B41 was off-limits. Anyone who attempted to enter the facility without clearance would be shot.
We were taken into a laboratory. Five of us and five upright metal tables. Shit. No way would anyone back out. We’d signed away our lives—so we fit ourselves into the slots and let the lab coats strap us in.
Nanobytes. That’s what they called the tiny robotic critters they injected into us. The injections burned. It was like they were shooting acid into our veins. The one in the temple hurt the most. I didn’t scream, but holy God, I wanted to.
The General said this was only the first round. Different nanobytes for different jobs, but there’s a required seventy-two hours between injections. We walked back to the barracks, and I felt like I’d woken up from a three-day drunk in Tijuana.
It’s too late to change my mind. And it’s damned sure too late to regret. But I think we are in deep shit. Right up to our fucking necks.
Chapter 9
Everyone stopped talking to one another and stared at me. I couldn’t be bothered with them. My gaze was on the pixie.
“He wanted immortality,” said the pixie smugly. “He wanted everyone to know that he was a great hunter and virile man. So I gave him all that he asked for.”
“Only he didn’t phrase the wish quite right, did he?” asked Brady, catching on immediately.
Flet’s ego had been engaged, and he answered Brady’s question without my prompting. “He wouldn’t make a wish until I’d saved him. An’ I must grant a wish to the one who captures me.”
“We get it,” I said. “Magic has rules.”
“And where would we be without rules?” Flet’s glow flickered in irritation. “Chaos! Only one of our kind has magic without rules, and she governs chaos.”
“How do you govern chaos?” blustered Ivan. “Pah! This little fool lies to us!”
“Morrigu is the Queen of Chaos,” offered Lorcan, “which you well know, Ivan.” He looked at me. “Go on, Simone.”
I glared at Flet. “If you keep nattering on, I’ll give you to Zerina,” I warned. “Tell us about the giant’s wish.”
“I was!” He huffed indignantly. “Dunn was good at hiding, good at hunting, and good at staying alive all on his own. But the villagers wanted to be rid of him, so they poisoned their own sheep and he ate one. I saved him from death, and was free. But I still had to grant his wish.
“ ‘I want to be immortal, Flet,’ says he, ‘and I want everyone to know that I am a great hunter—of game and of women.’ ” Flet’s attempt to boom in a giant’s voice wasn’t all that effective. Still, the pride vibrating in his tone probably matched the giant’s well enough.
“Oh, my God,” said Eva.
“Yeah.” I said, nodding. “The Cerne Abbas giant was once real.”
“Was Dunn the last giant?” asked Eva. Her gaze was on Patrick.
He shrugged. “Possibly. We didn’t return to Ireland until the late 1800s. Dad said he once met Fionn mac Cumhaill, who was a giant even among giants. Mostly, they kept to themselves and stayed out of the way of humans.”
“No more giants?” asked Flet in a bemused voice. “The world is better off, then.” This, from the little snot who’d tried to convince me his life had been grand as a giant’s pet.
“And no more pixies,” I said. “Did you get that part, too?”
Flet snorted. “Pixies were part of the world before it was the world.”
“You said that already.”
“Bears repeating, I say. Pixies are alive and well, and don’t you forget it.”
I dropped the subject. It dawned on me that Flet had repaid the giant’s slights, real or imagined, in a clever and cruel way. No way did I want to be on the bad side of a pixie. Or a permanent fixture on an Oklahoma hillside.
Since Flet could neither tell us how he’d gotten from England to Oklahoma nor where he’d been for the last four centuries, Patsy ended the meeting.
“We’ve replaced the broken post, and it works fine. The Invisi-shield should be operational in time for the festival.” Patsy’s jaw cracked as she yawned.
I felt the pull of dawn, too. The closer it got to sunrise, the more tired I felt. That was the way of vampires. We had no choice about when we went to sleep or when we woke up. Although the older vampires got, the more strength and power they accrued. Some, like Patrick and Lorcan, could even tolerate weak sunlight.
“I think there’s something going on and we need to stay alert,” Patsy continued, “especially since we have guests coming in to town for the big shindig. Unfortunately for Simone, she’s stuck with Flet. Sorry, hon. I can requisition a fly swatter, if you like.”
“Hey!” protested Flet.
I laughed. “No. I’m sure he’ll behave.”
“Well, let’s go home, people. The sun will rise soon, and I have a bucket of hot wings with my name on it.”
I saw Jessica’s look of longing and caught her gaze. “Yeah,” I said. “It’d be nice to eat again, wouldn’t it?”
As everyone else departed, Brady and I walked with Jessica and Patrick (and Flet) out of the garage.
“Sometimes I’ll just lick a Godiva truffle,” she said, her voice filled with yearning. “It makes me sick to my stomach, but God, it’s worth it.”
“You’ll get used to our ways, mo chroi,” said Patrick. “It’s been only a year since your Turning. I don’t even remember what food tastes like.”
“I don’t imagine the food you were used to eating was exactly good to begin with,” said Brady.
Patrick laughed. “ ’Tis true. All the same, I have no cravings. At least you can still ask your donors to ingest gastric delights.”
“Chocolate-tinged blood isn’t as good,” declared Jessica. She grinned. “That sounded really whiny, but I don’t care. It’s been almost a year, and I still want to stuff my face with champagne truffles. Do you know that Godiva makes a pumpkin pie truffle for Thanks-giving?” She groaned, and pressed her hand against her stomach.
“If only eating the food didn’t make us throw up,” I said.
“Plus, where would it go?” asked Brady.
“The insides don’t really work anymore. The heart pumps when we feed, but most of the other organs aren’t necessary,” said Patrick. “If a vampire managed to keep the food down, it would just . . . rot.”
“Gross. We know how it works, buddy.” Jessica smacked Patrick on the shoulder. “If only that Invisi-shield had magic powers, too. Any vampire who stepped within our borders could suddenly eat with no consequence.”
“Oh, man! I wish that could happen,” I said, thinking of the big dinner my grandmother would cook tomorrow. All I’d be able to do was smell it and salivate (figuratively, of course). “I wish we could all eat again. And that it would just disappear. We’d get to enjoy it, you know? Then it would magic away.”
For a moment, Jessica and I contemplated the very idea of enjoying real food again. Then Brady squeezed my hand and I jolted out of my revelry.
“We better scoot,” said Jessica. She looked from me to Brady, her eyes sparkling. I don’t know what she was thinking, but knowing Jess, it was something embarrassing. Like Brady and me . . . doing things together. Once again, I found myself experiencing a blush that wasn’t real. I couldn’t blush, but my cheeks really wanted to. Whatever we did, it was no one’s business ’cept ours. Small towns, paranormal or not, didn’t allow for much privacy. Yet I’d still managed to keep my secrets just fine.
“G’night Simone. Brady.” Jessica’s grin widened. Patrick nodded to us, the same knowing twinkle in his silver eyes, and then he wrapped his arms around his wife. They faded out of sight in a shower of gold sparkles.
“That’s a neat tr
ick,” said Brady.
“The perks of being sidhe and vampire.” I let go of Brady’s hand long enough to turn and lock the garage and then the office. Then I dropped my keys into my pocket. Brady led me past his Vulcan (sexy, sexy now), walking around the back side of the building to my little truck. Flet was in a much better mood than I thought possible, especially after getting bullied by us mere humans. He flitted this way and that, exploring the area without a care in the world.
“So, we’re still on for tomorrow?” asked Brady.
“Of course.” We loitered near the truck. Even though I needed to get home, I was reluctant to start the trip. Brady’s eyes were on me.
Nerves plucked my stomach like a harpist pulling on gilded strings. Wait. This was Oklahoma. Think Johnny Cash strumming the opening chords to “Walk the Line.” That was me. My stomach wobbling. My heart trying to thump (and failing). My knees knocking. Hoo, boy.
“Time to say good-bye, I guess,” I murmured.
“I had something different in mind,” whispered Brady.
“Like what?”
“Hmm.” He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving mine. I might not have a heartbeat, but I could hear his. Thudthudthud. How could Brady possibly be nervous about approaching me? It gave me such an odd thrill to know that I affected him as much as he affected me. I had never considered my own feminine power. I had been with only one man my whole adult life. Jacob. And I’d never felt . . . well, giddy with him.
Brady invoked emotions that I’d thought forgotten. I understood lust, though I don’t think I’d ever experienced it. Wanting Jacob was the same as wanting security. I needed to be taken care of, directed, and loved. At least, I thought he loved me. Honestly, I didn’t know anything about love—not the kind of love I saw between couples like Jessica and Patrick. A real, healthy relationship—that was something I didn’t know how to cultivate at all.
Well, well, well. Hadn’t I decided Brady was gonna be fun? God. I couldn’t just have a fling, and I knew it. I didn’t want to back out, but I wasn’t sure I could go forward, either. Stuck between a rock and a hard place—or rather a bruised heart and a handsome man. Same difference, really.
“Where do you go, Simone?”
“What?” I blinked and found Brady leaning against the truck, mere inches from me.
“You do that a lot.” He tapped my temple. “You just . . . wander away.”
“I have a past,” I blurted. Shit. Why’d I say that? Well, then. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I go there, even though I don’t want to. I’d rather forget it all.”
“We all have pasts. We all have regrets, too.”
“I know.” I dared to reach out and touch his shoulder. Warm. Firm. Muscled. My fingers drifted down his arm and back up again. I placed my palm against his neck, felt the rapid pulse that beat there. For me.
My fingertips skirted his jaw. His skin felt rough, the shadow of a beard protesting my light touch. Brady’s nostrils flared and his eyes darkened. He didn’t make a move, though. He let me touch him. His heartbeat revved again; his muscles tensed. Patience was not his virtue. Brady was a warrior. He was a man who went after what he wanted—the hunter, the conqueror, the hero. And yet he stood there, every part of him bristling with the need to take the lead, and let me do as I wished.
Excitement spiked in my stomach.
Or was that terror?
Something primal and hot kicked up inside me. Had I said I hadn’t felt lust? Brady sure inspired a lot of it. I want to wrap myself around him and just . . . nibble. Lick. Taste. The thought of piercing his throat with my fangs made hunger twist inside me. I could smell his blood; hear its rhythm as it pulsed through his veins. Brady was my aphrodisiac. For some reason, when I thought of feeding on him, it didn’t squick me out. In fact, it kinda turned me on.
I let my gaze rove the corded muscles of his neck. Sweat trickled, probably because of Oklahoma’s insane humidity and heat. Summer was a bitch. My nostrils flared. I’d never thought of sweat as sexy, but the musk of it, the dance of it on his flesh was intriguing.
My mouth went dry and I licked my lips. Brady’s gaze was drawn to the motion. He lifted his hand to cup my chin. Slowly, he drew his thumb across my lower lip. I barely resisted the need to suck on that digit. Again, I had the strangest urge to sink a fang into his flesh.
I wanted to drink from him. I wanted to taste his essence on my tongue, absorb it into my body. I wanted to strip him bare and worship him.
Whew. Day-amn. I needed to get a hold of myself. I dropped my hand at the same time I withdrew my face from Brady’s gentle snare. I intended to step back, to break whatever spell wove its magic on us.
Brady refused to be rebuffed. He reached out again and took my hand, tugging me until I was flush against him. Had I the ability to breathe, my lungs might’ve given out right then. Emotions tangled: excitement and fear, desire and reluctance, need and caution.
My palms flattened on his oh-so-muscled chest. God, he was warm. I hadn’t realized how much I missed my own heartbeat, my own breath, until I stood here, toe-to-toe with Brady, and felt the life pulsating within him.
I thought about what he said about the past and regrets. He wasn’t a man without his own secrets.
“What do you regret, Brady?” I asked softly.
“Not kissing you,” he answered. Now, that was an excellent response, but it also completely avoided the question. I needed to learn that technique.
But Brady had other things to teach me.
“Step on my feet, short stuff,” he said. He was at least six inches taller than I was, and standing on his thick-soled boots gave me a nice boost.
He wrapped his arms around my waist and gathered me close. That’s when I felt his erection. It pressed against my belly, thick and urgent. My thoughts skittered. Not that we could have sex—I mean, not all the way, because as much as I liked Brady, marriage was out of the question. I couldn’t bind myself to a human, and no way could I Turn him.
“You’re doing it again,” he murmured. “You don’t have to worry about the past.”
Yeah, I did. In a big way.
“I was thinking more about the future.” I licked my lips again. “Where could this . . . whatever this is . . . possibly lead, Brady? Maybe it’s not the right thing. You and me.”
I cleared my throat, trying to swallow the damned knot clogging it. Leave it to me to be all practical in a romantic moment. I stared up at him, but he didn’t seem deterred.
“Kiss me,” he demanded softly. “Then you can tell me to fuck off.”
His lips skimmed mine. The tender assault caught me off guard. I clutched his shoulders, my knees going mushy. No worries about falling; Brady’s arms were snug around me.
My vampire body was bereft of the usual human responses to arousal. No breathlessness. No spike in blood pressure. No frenetic pounding of the heart. All the same, my body hummed in expectation. Despite my lack of body temperature, I still felt heat stab my belly.
Another brush of his lips.
The heat traveled south, pooling in a part of my body that hadn’t seen action in a long time.
Whoa.
The third time Brady’s lips met mine, they stayed there. Soft pressure. Then moving away. A breath. His. And then again, the capturing of my mouth, this time longer.
I clung to him, not a true participant in the en deavor. It wasn’t that I didn’t know how to kiss. It was that I was swept away by him.
Had I thought he wasn’t patient? How stupid. The man had plenty of patience.
“Simone,” he whispered. My name sounded like a prayer. Then he went in for another mouth-to-mouth assault (ohwowohwowohwow). His lips opened slightly, an invitation for me to do the same. I gladly RSVPed, and then his tongue swept inside and joined mine. He tasted like peppermint. And faintly of coffee. (I missed coffee so much, darn it!) His tongue dueled with mine (because love is a battlefield). He was tender but relentless, and oh, so good at this kissing thing.
&
nbsp; He thrilled me all the way to my toes. I felt like I was having my own personal earthquake.
He drew away, a centimeter or two, took a breath, went in again. Every nerve ending in my body tingled. My nipples hardened and poked into Brady’s broad chest.
He noticed.
Brady groaned, drawing away yet again, his breathing harsh, his lips wet and swollen, his eyes glazed. I imagined I looked the same way. I sure felt like I’d been set on fire from the inside out.
His heartbeat was frantic, his muscles tensed. And I think his erection had gotten bigger. Hoo, boy. Even if we could have sex, I wasn’t sure I could ride that monster.
Yowzer.
“We better stop,” I said. “I need a cold shower as it is.”
He grinned, man pride etched all over his face. “Me, too.” He loosened his hold enough for me to step off his boots. He didn’t let go of my waist.
“What’s it gonna be, Simone?” he asked. “Will you give us a chance?”
Chapter 10
Sunday, June 16
From the moment I awoke, Brady’s questions circled my thoughts. What’s it gonna be, Simone? Will you give us a chance?
I’d said yes. Was it a lie? A hope? An actual beginning? I didn’t know. But I felt lighthearted. And dare I say . . . happy? Yeah. Happy.
Even though daylight savings time meant that the sun didn’t set until eight or so, I usually popped awake by seven p.m. My vampire self recognized night as night even though the sun didn’t do us the courtesy of going away for another hour. I couldn’t go outside until it did. And we’d made sure all the windows were covered with thick curtains. Gran lived in the dark, anyway, and Glory didn’t seem to mind the adjustments we’d had to make. She understood I was different now. I wish I’d been able to accept all the changes as easily as she seemed to have.
When I entered the kitchen, Flet was sitting on Glory’s shoulder and watching her scratch a brown crayon across a page in her SpongeBob Squarepants coloring book. Glory was very precise, using only the colors that matched the characters on the cartoon itself and always staying within the lines.
Over My Dead Body Page 7
