“Mason didn’t provide that part of my description?”
“Sure, yeah, he said you were trussed up in a leather bustier and a thong. Right out there on the deck, no less. I like a forward kinda girl like that. I did ask where he thought your whip was and he told me it was back in here. Good thing you invited me in.”
“You are such a liar.”
He took another slow sip of wine, grinning like the very devil himself. “When you can’t see the woman you’re interested in,” he said. “Your imagination gets a little frisky.”
****
She turned and adjusted the stereo volume and put on the Stones’ Sticky Fingers. Clicking to her favorite song, she hit play and the first notes of Wild Horses began, quiet and mournful. “Frisky doesn’t begin to cover you, Dillon,” she answered, turning back to face him. And what a man to face, with his sculpted cheekbones and haunting, lovely eyes.
He shrugged, totally unaware of how she gawked at his beauty. “Once a Marine, always a Marine.”
“So that’s your story?”
“A big damned part of my tale,” he replied, frowning slightly.
The twangy Rolling Stones’ song made her feel like they were in some smoky backroom bar, ready to slow dance.
As if reading her mind, very carefully he stood, extending a hand with gallant decorum. “Dance with me?” he murmured, stepping around his dog Lulu and boldly into his own darkness. She was thankful she’d scooped up all the obstacles that had been on her floor.
She moved toward him, feeling unsteady. “Why…do you want me to dance with you?” Do you know my mind, my thoughts?
“Just come here,” he said, and she took hold of his hand. He easily spun her into his embrace. “It’s been too long since I held a gorgeous woman up close. Too long since I had a good slow dance.”
He stepped back abruptly. “You’re wet,” he said, and only then did she remember her ruined dress.
She tugged on the front, fanning it outward to air it. “Oh, yeah, that’s from the dog and cat fight moment. Spilled my drink.”
He nodded. “Take it off.”
“Excuse…me?” She stammered, blushing furiously.
He only smiled some more, perfectly assured, obviously very aware of just how handsome he was. “You can change in front of me. I don’t care.” He shrugged. “It’s not like I can see anyway.”
She wrapped arms about herself protectively. “But that feels kinda…naughty.”
He laughed, running his fingertips along her shoulder until he found the strap of her dress. “I have some experience in that department.” He slid his fingers underneath the thin band of material, stroking her bare skin with the rough pads of his fingertips, caressing her. Then dislodged the strap so it fell down along her upper arm. “Besides, I like naughty,” he added softly.
She didn’t dare even try and answer, not with the honey-rich way he’d whispered the last. So he added, “Marine, remember?”
She took hold of his hand again, moving much closer. She wasn’t honestly about to change clothes in front of a man, especially not one who was this seductive, even if he couldn’t see her. “Is that how you lost your sight? In the war?”
He buried his face against the top of her head, slowly swaying her even nearer, but didn’t answer. The Stones crooned, “I have my freedom, but I don’t have much time….”
After a long moment, he finally answered. “Here’s to being one of the guys who made it home,” he said. “And into your bedroom, Kate.”
She opened her mouth, wanting to know more about what had happened, but there had been obvious pain and regret in the words. So instead, she leaned her cheek against his shoulder and focused on the music, on feeling it all through her body, and on Dillon being so warm and close. His chest was firm, wonderfully hard and strong against her face. He was tall, had at least half a foot on her, so they fit together in that way men and women had always been meant to do. Like a puzzle, like a missing piece finding its place and locking in tight.
She slid both hands along his lower back, relishing the muscular strength, how his soft T-shirt slid over the flesh as she stroked him. “Just so you know,” she whispered, “I’ve never had anyone else back here. So you making it into my bedroom was a pretty big feat.”
He froze, clasping both of her shoulders. He leaned down, almost as if he thought he could look into her eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he hissed. “Why the hell not?” There was a warrior’s gleam in his eyes, like he was ready to go kick somebody’s ass on her behalf.
“What? You wanna go beat somebody up about it? Defend my honor?” she tried laughing it off, but tears suddenly burned in her eyes. She’d been forced to lead a life that no Normal woman ever would. Kept on the shelf, held there like a porcelain vase that belonged to some unknown master. Preserved and unused, dusty from lack of true care.
He shook his head. “I just want to know what kind of losers live in this town of yours. Are you for real? No guy’s ever been in your bedroom? Any bedroom of yours?”
She stared at the carpeted floor, chewing on her lip. The tears welled much stronger. “I…I’m a virgin,” she admitted, feeling ashamed and pathetic. “I just…I’m not…”
“Shh,” he said, and she had the eerie sense that he knew she was crying. “I’m here now. That’s all that matters.” Slowly he sat back down on the settee, reached for his glass of wine where it rested on the end table and murmured, “Now undress for me.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“I…I can’t do that, Dillon.” Kate was sputtering, a charming sound somewhere between gasping and strangling. “I can’t…can’t… no way! I’m not disrobing with you sitting there sipping wine like we’re at some bistro or something.”
He folded arms over his chest. “Seems like a perfectly good idea to me. More than good, matter of fact.”
“I don’t even know you! Hello? Reality alert, Marine.”
“Reality alert, beautiful. I can’t see for shit. Knock yourself out, drop trou, do a little pirouette. Show me the twins. Do whatever you want, and I will still be sitting here in the dark.”
“Why’s it so important to you?” She sounded completely suspicious, and he could hardly blame her. He wanted her. Badly. Enough that he’d use his wiles and charms to lure her right across that carpeted floor and onto her bed and between those sheets. But he wanted to make her feel beautiful first; in fact, that was how he wanted to accomplish his mission. It was a win-win scenario: he could make love to a gorgeous woman, and by doing so, he’d probably get the intel he was after. They could murmur sweet nothings until he learned the truth. And when she wasn’t in the room, he could find that ring. Or at least grope around, try and do his best, and see what he turned up.
But somehow the thought of even trying to search for it felt wrong now, like a betrayal—he no longer felt comfortable about the mission. She’d never asked any man into her bedroom before, so how could he set out to destroy her when she trusted him? He couldn’t. The search for her mating ring was off the table, it had to be. He’d learn what he could from her personally, but he wouldn’t snoop or pry into her private things.
Was she a vampire? Quite probably, given the strange, alluring scent that had filled the room like the clouds of incense in some ancient temple. He felt a little drunk, too—and that definitely wasn’t the wine speaking to him. It was all her. So, hell yeah, she was probably something so totally other, he wouldn’t know what to do if he didn’t get her in that bed. But deep down, on the gut instinct level—which was where he’d operated from during all his years in the Corps—he knew she was good. And safe. Well, maybe not to his heart, but that was another story entirely.
“Are you going to answer me, Dillon?” He heard her stamp a bare foot against the carpet. And then she did it again, even harder, jarring the room slightly. Maybe she’d repeated the gesture just to be sure he could tell she’d made it in the first place.
He grinned, raking a hand across his forehead. Impa
tient, strong women. His total thing. Forget about vampires. If anyone was a sucker around here, it was him, and for an independent-minded female just like Kate Rabineau.
“It’s important because,” he began slowly, “I can’t see you. And so I desperately—and, Kate, darling, I really do mean desperately…want to feel you. All of you.”
“You had me at desperately,” she said, her voice light, excited. Her breathlessness obvious.
He kicked off his flip flops, feeling the soft carpet between his toes. “How do you feel about urgently?” he purred with a wicked grin. “Hungrily? Eagerly? Wickedly?”
“I’m a word girl. I sell books for a living,” she replied. “I mean, we own a bookstore.”
“I like descriptive words, but I like real world action a helluva a lot more.” He patted the spot beside him on the sofa. “Now get your sweet little ass over here beside me, Kate. Now.”
****
She slid out of her sundress before taking so much as a step toward him. It did feel naughty, but in a powerful, intoxicating way. She was defying her family, the will of her own people. Every law and edict that existed among their tribe said she could not choose a man on her own, and that her virginity was not her gift to give. But at the moment, she’d passed some realm of rational thought. Her body and hormones and mating urges had declared another fate entirely, one that her family would not decide on her behalf.
Dillon Fox was hers. She’d dreamed of him for at least a year, seen the world through the darkness he lived in, known his frustrations, his struggles, his strength. Standing with the soft cotton fabric pooled about her ankles, she studied him. He cocked his head sideways slightly, listening.
“Are you still dressed?” he asked, absently stroking his dog who nuzzled at his bare feet.
“Did you lose your sight about a year ago?” she responded instead, already knowing the answer.
“Yeah, that’s right. How’d you know?”
“When I said I don’t know you? That wasn’t totally true…because I sorta do.”
She took several steps closer, standing in front of him in nothing but her satin lace panties. He reached out toward her, his hand brushing against her flat abdomen. His eyes widened slightly, and then with languid slowness, he stroked her belly, feeling the taut muscle, before trailing lower until he discovered the edge of her underwear. The only sound between them was that of their breathing, the rush of blood in her ears.
“How do you know me?” he whispered, pressing his lips against her belly and kissing slowly, licking the bare flesh. “God, you taste as good as you smell. You’re magic, aren’t you?”
He nuzzled his bristling cheek against her abdomen, rubbing it back and forth as she dug her fingertips into his short hair, stroking it, loving how shockingly soft it was beneath her hands.
“Dreams,” she moaned as he slid a hand about her buttocks, squeezing. “I know you…I’ve dreamed about you for a year.”
He froze, while still holding her close. “Did you recognize me?”
“I recognized your scent. The dreams were always black and dark. I felt afraid but…I wanted something so very much. I just never knew it was you, Dillon. So, no, I don’t know you…but at the same time I know you very well. It’s crazy.”
“I dreamed about you, too,” he admitted hoarsely, sliding his hands about her waist, a wondrous expression on his face. “I knew it when I met you. The aroma…I couldn’t see you in the dreams. I was blind. That’s not usually how it is for me. But I felt you and sensed you…I was so lonely after I lost my eyesight, I just thought. Shit. That it was because of what I was going through. Until we got all the way in here, into your room. That’s when I knew for sure that something really intense was going on all along.”
“You were lonely?” she asked, stroking his hair tenderly. Her heart instantly clenched as she imagined what it must’ve been like for him, being injured, fighting to recover.
“It was hard for a while,” he admitted, pulling her hand to his lips. Slowly he kissed her knuckles, then rotated her palm to his mouth and kissed the center. “You know, I woke up in Maryland with the lights out. Wasn’t sure where I was, didn’t remember what happened….I went through some terror then that was a lot worse than anything I ever experienced over in Iraq.” He grew pensive, still holding her hand, yet saying nothing more.
She’d never wanted to be so strong and solid for anyone before in her life. Sliding to her knees before him, cupping his face in both her palms, she repeated his earlier words. “Shh,” she whispered soothingly, brushing her lips over his. “I’m here now.”
A full, wide smile spread across his face, and then he laughed. “Does that mean I can take off my clothes now, too?”
Without a word, she reached for the hem of his T-shirt and began dragging it over his head. “Here’s your answer, tough guy.”
When he tossed the shirt aside and she saw his chiseled torso and abdomen, she began giggling in a giddy fit of lust and hormones and arousal. “Talk about beefcake. Holy cats, that’s one gorgeous body you got there, Dillon Fox.”
“Come sit on my lap. I want to see you, too,” he urged her, reaching outward with both hands. Slowly she straddled him on the settee, settling gingerly atop his thighs. Right up close and personal. There was a long scar across his right pec, and a bulldog tattoo on that upper arm. He possessed the kind of rare grace and strength that came only from using one’s body as a weapon, and she had no doubt that the same grace and strength were going to be downright overwhelming once he got her in bed.
All at once, the mating instinct hit Defcon Five and she began shaking slightly, clutching his shoulders. He didn’t understand, of course, and held her about the waist. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised earnestly, stroking her hair.
“That’s not it. It’s…you’re even more beautiful than I thought.”
He liked that one, his high cheekbones flushing slightly. That heat, so visible in his features—and knowing she’d put it there—caused her mating scent to absolutely pour out between them, to roll like thunder over the whole room. A fact that did not go unnoticed by her soon-to-be lover.
“Okay, fess up about this goddamned gorgeous smell of yours,” he said, staring quizzically into the space beside her. “What’s your personal Chanel Number Five all about, huh? And what’s with the dreams we’ve been having about each other?”
A part of her felt guilty; if they were going to make love, she needed to explain the facts of vampire life and nature to him. Stat. But her instincts were already taking over, compelling her to claim him…to taste him, too. And to share her own blood with him.
“We….Dillon, we’ve got to stop,” she said, beginning to climb off his lap. But he’d have none of that, and secured her against him with a viselike grip.
“Not stopping this love boat, baby. Explain about the aroma.”
She shook her head. “You won’t like it.” Understatement. Huge one. But his next words were a total game change, and she’d have sworn her heart stopped beating for a full second.
“Is it because you’re a vampire?” he asked, reaching fingertips to touch her cheek. “Is it something y’all do?”
“I’m a vampire?” she repeated numbly. “You’re saying I’m a vampire?” Maybe she could dodge this bullet. Still. He shifted slightly beneath her and she felt a hard bulge in the front of his pants, one that revealed just how aroused he was, too. No way could she fight her mating nature now. She was too on the brink in terms of timing and he was the one. She knew it in her heart. The dreams had been preparing her for him, so she’d recognize him when he arrived.
“You are a vampire. I know it. You’re not like any human woman I’ve ever been around.”
“Mason told you,” she said flatly, remembering for the first time in quite a few minutes that Dillon knew her old nemesis. She squirmed on his lap, wanting to get away, feeling a little angry. “Was it a set up? You coming onto me? Wanting back here in my room?” She rose up o
n Dillon’s lap, but he tugged her back atop him, wrapping a strong forearm around her waist.
“You’re the one who brought me to your room,” he said, securing her against his chest. “And, darling, you’re not going anywhere. I think you’re mine now.”
“Yours?” she repeated, feeling dizzy and unsettled.
“I’ve been dreaming about you for a year. You’ve been dreaming about me. That’s got to be part of this whole vamp gig,” he said. He didn’t sound threatening at all. Just very confident and curious and full-on determined.
“Yes, Dillon. I’m a vampire,” she whispered. “Mason was right. Did he send you here to hurt me? To hunt us?”
“He wanted to confirm his suspicions about what you are. Period,” Dillon answered bluntly.
“Is that the only reason you came inside and into my room?”
He shook his head vigorously. “No, nothing like that. I’m here, with you, Kate? Because I couldn’t have gone anywhere else, not from the moment I met you.”
She sighed into him, wrapping both arms about his neck. “Oh my God. What are we going to do about this? You’re a Normal. I’m a vampire. Criminy. What to do? What to do?”
“Make love. That’s what to do,” he said, sliding his hands along her back and nuzzling his face against her neck. “Hell, yeah. That’s a no-brainer right there, Kate.”
“I can’t stop this,” she explained, patting her chest. “The way my natural instincts have taken over, the way they’re—”
“Making the world smell perfect and sexy?” he said, laughing, still caressing her face. “And I have a pretty good idea why that is. It’s because you’re a vampire and because you like me. And you want me. A whole fucking lot. So that’s why your body responds with this perfume thing, right?”
She buried her face against his shoulder, cringing in embarrassment. Not only did he know she was a vampire, which did solve the problem of a big ass confession. But he seemed to have realized she was marking him with her mating scent.
Red Blooded: The Gods of Midnight Series, Book 3.5 (Paranormal Romance) Page 4
