Seduction's Bite

by Madison Layle

  En route, he reevaluated his approach with the intriguing Cheyenne Logan. She was more intelligent than he'd given her credit for, and without knowing her partner's location, he'd have to proceed with care.

  Her beauty made him want to seduce her, and he hadn't ruled out that option. As his bedmate, she'd be more susceptible to persuasion, more open to consider his point of view. But that was only a possibility if she didn't already have a lover. Her partner remained a missing link in the equation, and Kieran hated missing links.

  After parking, he reached the café's front door ahead of her and held it open as she went through. The place was a small hole-in-the-wall establishment, clean, but not nearly as packed as she'd led him to believe.

  Must not be finals week.

  Soft jazz music played in the background. A gray-haired woman met them with a welcoming smile and a couple of menus in hand. “Table for two?"

  "Yes, thank you,” Cheyenne said before he could respond.

  As they followed the hostess to a table with a bud vase of fake flowers, he placed his hand at the small of her back. She didn't stop him or acknowledge the touch, but her silent acceptance pleased him.

  The closer he got to her, the more he wanted to touch her elsewhere. The more he encountered her sparring personality, the more challenged he became in wanting to break through her barriers to see what lay beneath her prickly exterior.

  At the table, he held her chair then chose to sit in the next one instead of across from her. She acknowledged the move with a slight quirk of luscious lips but said nothing.

  "I don't know about you, but I'm starving,” she admitted.

  He nodded in agreement, but kept his thoughts to himself. She didn't need to know that he was starving for a taste of her lips ... and more.

  They spent the next few minutes staring at the menus while he allowed her to postpone their talk a little longer. When the waitress arrived, she ordered a cola, steak, and eggs over easy. He asked for a glass of wine and bowl of fruit salad, which earned him a questioning look from his companion.

  "I don't eat meat,” he explained. He didn't add that a vampire couldn't consume anything that was already dead, whether raw or well done, without getting a severe case of nausea. But a few fresh fruits or vegetables could provide a vampire with a great way to diffuse suspicion.

  She chuckled. “Then I think it's safe to say you're no flesh-eating vampire."

  His smile was tight lipped, but his response was serious. “You're safe with me, Cheyenne."

  She studied his face for a long moment then murmured, “We'll see, Kieran. We'll see.” She lifted her glass of ice water in silent salute then took a sip. “So ... What exactly is it that you do for a living?"

  He met her gaze head on and admitted, “I kill rogue vampires."

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  Chapter Four

  Cheyenne choked, coughing so hard tears welled in her eyes. And here she'd been doing so well to keep her reactions in check. Until now.

  Of all the answers she expected, his had not been one of them.

  He leaned toward her and rubbed her back, but she held up a hand, a gesture that said she'd be okay. When her coughs subsided, she took a soothing drink of water and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

  "I'm sorry,” he said. “I assumed you of all people would understand and not be quite so ... shocked ... by my career choice."

  "I just—” She cleared her throat. “I've never met anyone who admitted such a thing before."

  She glanced at his face then looked back at her hands fisting the napkin. His crystal blue eyes had such a strong effect on her. They reminded her of the clearest spring sky and, like that vast heaven, seemed to hide a universe of mysteries yet to be explored. She found it difficult to meet his penetrating gaze without wanting to seek out his secrets, learn more about him.

  The waitress arrived with their meal, which gave her time to think.

  Clean-shaven, his skin was a warm tan; whether natural complexion or sun-kissed, she didn't know. But that, added with his dark hair and slight European accent, made him an exotic attraction she couldn't deny. Even his manners had an Old World feel but then again, if he'd been raised in the South, maybe holding the door or a chair for a lady had been drilled into his head when he was a boy.

  He popped a grape in his mouth and then looked at her over the rim of his wine glass while he took a sip. Damn, the man had charm. She stabbed her steak, sawed a piece off, and stuck it in her mouth.

  He wore a short-sleeved, navy-colored T-shirt, black denims sans a belt, and boots. She'd damn near sighed aloud when he'd removed his biker jacket before taking a seat beside her. His hands were bare, no rings or tell-tale tan lines. His only jewelry was a thin gold chain around his neck, long enough that the front lay tucked inside his collar.

  His hard biceps and a tight, trim physique proved he had the muscles to fight vampires. His neck and arms showed no scars, so if he was telling the truth about his occupation, he was apparently very good at it.

  But Mark had been good at it, too. Until...

  "If you hunt vampires, what could you hope to learn from me? I'm just a motivational speaker on the subject of myths and legends."

  His eyes narrowed, and she knew he caught the lie for what it was.

  "You're more than you portray, Cheyenne.” His voice was soft, deep, and dangerously seductive.

  She kept silent, refusing to confirm or deny his suspicions.

  He smiled. “But, that's a matter for another time. Tonight, I want to discuss one aspect of your speech in particular."

  "Oh? And what would that be?” She took another bite of her meal.

  "That all vampires are villainous. Care to debate the matter with me?"

  "There's nothing to debate. I've never met one that wasn't dangerous in a very deadly way. Fangs and a lust for blood apparently do that to a person."

  He took a longer sip of his wine, his expression serious, thoughtful. “So it's impossible for vampires to be like the human race, some good, some bad? I mean, the world is filled with both law-abiding citizens and criminals, is it not?"

  "Vampires are good at only one thing, and that is sucking the life-sustaining blood from their victims. They're monsters. The only safe, law-abiding vampires I know are dead ones.” She stabbed another piece of meat. “Dead, dead ... not walking dead."

  Monster ... Her words struck him, a punch from the past, a wound that still bled. “I get it.” He lowered his gaze to his glass of wine and fought free of the memories that haunted his daily existence.

  "Hello? You okay?"

  He looked up. Her eyes, so beautiful, stared at him with mild curiosity. “Yes, fine.” He had to stay focused on the here and now, not let his mind wander to the past, to things that could not be changed. “Tell me,” he said, getting back to the topic at hand, “as an expert on the vampire legend, what parts of it are true? And which are false?"

  She swallowed the bite she'd just chewed and began cutting another piece. “Well, they're nocturnal creatures, human in appearance, with sharp, elongated fangs, of course."

  "Of course.” He'd never envisioned how pleasant it could be to watch a woman eat. Such a normal human thing to do, a natural habit that required little thought and no concern.

  "So the sun part of the myth seems accurate enough. I think they prefer the night because they use it to hide their killing sprees. They may not age physically, but they are no more immortal than you or me. They can be killed by fire or with a sharp blade of any kind, so long as you pierce the heart, or cut off their heads. Any other wound only pisses them off."

  As she ate her meal, she conversed with him in an easygoing manner he found enjoyable. A rare encounter shared between human and vampire with no blood, no fear to mar the moment.

  She paused and gave him a bemused smile. “Not exactly a good topic to discuss over a meal, huh?"

  He took a healthy bite of fruit and chewed as if he could savor the taste even thou
gh that was impossible. Ever since his turning, blood was the one thing that provided any flavor. “My appetite's intact. Go on, please."

  "I can't imagine that I'm telling you anything you haven't already learned firsthand as a vampire slayer. Unless, you're new at it ... Are you?"

  His shrug was noncommittal. “In my line of work, I seldom have the opportunity to talk about it on an intellectual level. Most people would react as if I'd lost my mind."

  She frowned. “Yeah. I know the feeling."

  "Do you?"

  She blinked at him, her guard up, and he wished he'd kept the question to himself. Her gaze dropped. She pushed what was left of her food around on her plate.

  "Yeah. I get that kind of reaction a lot from people who don't buy into my speeches."

  He suspected she left out a lot, but let it go without remark. Instead, he gestured to her pendant. “The crucifix. Is that part of the legend true? Do you wear it to ward off vampires?"

  She lifted the pendant for a quick glance. “A family heirloom,” she murmured. “I doubt you'll ever find a vampire inside a place of worship, but they can be on hallowed ground. That part of the myth is false. After all, most cemeteries are hallowed ground, and they find it convenient to hide out in crypts."

  "Interesting.” She'd done her homework, but he was more interested in her eyes, in what they told him, than in her matter-of-fact statements. Volatile emotions stirred—flecks of anger mingled with hints of a deeper, darker sorrow.

  "The myth that they need an invitation to enter your home is a lie. Like with any burglar, an open door or window is invitation enough. Don't know about garlic, but I seriously doubt it's for real."

  She dabbed a bite of steak in what was left of her egg yolk and ate it, then washed it down with her soft drink.

  "How about you?” she asked him. “Care to share any of your secrets?"

  His grin showed a brief flash of white teeth. “You already know one of my most important ones."

  "Okay. Let's start with how you learned of me?"

  "A friend of mine got me a ticket. He said I should meet you, that I might be interested in hearing what you had to tell."

  Cheyenne sat back and studied his face, but his expression gave nothing away. Like a jigsaw puzzle with thousands of pieces, he was a mystery she'd yet to solve, a picture unfinished. “And would this friend be a mutual acquaintance?"

  He sipped his wine. “I don't think so. He's a priest in New Orleans."

  A priest? He'd surprised her again, though she fought to hide it.

  The waitress interrupted with a question about desert, which they both declined, so she thanked them and set the tab with a couple of mints on the table.

  Kieran's hand beat hers to the paper. Their eyes met, held. He was so handsome ... and warm, his skin soft beneath her fingers. He leaned closer. Suddenly hoping he'd kiss her, she let her thumb lightly stroke his hand, until his gaze dropped to their hands.

  "I've got the bill,” he said. “After all, I did invite you."

  "Oh. Okay.” Embarrassed at her own needy thoughts, she pulled away, took a final swallow of her drink, and excused herself to go to the restroom where she proceeded to glare at her reflection in the mirror.

  "You just met the guy! You don't want to do this.” But she did. He was so sexy, so charming. Best of all, he believed in vampires, so he would never look at her as if she'd lost her marbles or needed a straightjacket.

  Since the deaths of her husband and child, the only people who'd accepted her testimony as truth were her brother and Val. Most of those who heard her speeches would consider her words, but eventually rule them out. She was entertainment, a novelty, enjoyed but soon forgotten.

  Even Mark had remained skeptical at first, while he appeased his little sister by going on a hunt with her. That was until he encountered a real vampire. She hadn't bothered to say I told you so, but he'd taken the hunts very seriously from then on ... until he too died.

  She looked at her watch. What was she thinking? She had no time to consider extending dinner to anything beyond a free meal and a bit of table chatter. It didn't matter that Kieran's ass looked hot in tight jeans or that she could drown in his blue eyes and die a happy woman.

  She should get back to her hotel, get some rest, and prepare for her hunt. The sun had already set, and her best chance at finding a vampire usually came between midnight and dawn when they returned to cemeteries.

  After Mark died, she'd been forced to reevaluate her methods. She wasn't as strong as Mark had been, so she couldn't confront them in the middle of the night when they were at their strongest. However, if she lay in wait at a distance and used binoculars to watch for them, to discover their hiding places, she could choose to attack in the broad daylight when they were at their most vulnerable. The only risk was getting caught by groundskeepers or visitors to nearby tombs, but the vampires themselves seemed unaware that their usual choices in the more remote, rundown gravesites helped her go unnoticed.

  By the time she returned to the table, Kieran had paid the bill and put his leather jacket back on.

  On the way out to the vehicles, she asked, “Why did you choose to start killing vampires?"

  "Rogue vampires."

  She eyed him. “They're all rogue."

  His smile was small. “That's debatable."

  She rolled her eyes. “You're dodging my question."

  "I guess you could say the job sort of found me."

  Feeling a close bond to his response, she remained quiet, nodded, and turned toward her van.

  He grabbed her hand. “Thank you,” he said.

  Facing him, her hand still held by his, she looked up into his eyes, so serious and sincere. “For what?"

  "For tonight. And...” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “For not spewing water when I told you what I did for a living."

  A giggle burst out, a mild fit of hilarity that proved contagious as he chuckled with her. When her laughter subsided, she found her palms over his chest and his hands joined at the small of her back. His warm embrace kept the night's chill at bay, but still she shivered.

  The steady rhythm of his heartbeat pulsed beneath her hands, and she dropped her gaze to stare at them. He was so ... alive. Virile.

  Stop it ... now.

  With a gentle finger, he lifted her face to his. “I'm going to kiss you, Cheyenne. Unless you tell me no."

  Damn, she loved the way he said her name, as if he savored the sound of it on his tongue like deep, rich chocolate. Her lips parted, but no words came forth. Neither did she breathe.

  Say no. Say it now. “Yes."

  He lowered his head, his lips soft against hers. Wanting to revel in the sensation of touch alone, she closed her eyes. A brief touch, a teasing caress, and a warm exchange of air. Then he closed his mouth over hers, his tongue slipping inside to stroke hers.

  Yes!

  He tasted of strawberries and peppermint. She hungered for more.

  Although she knew she should back off, she leaned closer. His kiss was tender, his body firm. Her legs were weak, her senses overwhelmed. And for the first time in a very long time, she felt safe.

  When he pulled away, she caught the scent of his cologne, masculine and fresh.

  He held her hips, gave her another peck on the lips, and smiled—a slow, sensuous curve of his mouth. “It was a pleasure talking with you, Cheyenne, but I really must go. As you said, dangerous things come out in the dead of the night, and I've got a job to do."

  He released her and swung a leg over his motorcycle.

  He's leaving? Just like that?

  "Wait.” She winced at the urgency in her voice, but she couldn't explain the uncanny urge to hold onto him, prevent him from seeking out the dangers that vampires imbued. She'd seen them take her child, husband, and brother away from her. The thought of them killing another person she knew, even if it was a man she just met, sent a bolt of panic racing along her nerves.

  He'd cranked the engine and sat stari
ng at her, waiting, while his bike rumbled beneath him. “I'd like to call on you, again,” he began. “Maybe I could—"

  "Take me for a ride,” she said, adding, “on your motorcycle, I mean,” when she felt her cheeks warm.

  The sky blue of his eyes was darker now, his gaze more intense, yet curious. “Now?"

  "Now."

  After a long pause, he handed her the helmet. “Hop on."

  She donned the helmet, left the chin straps unfastened, and got on behind him, wrapping her arms around his middle. Taking a deep breath, she tried unsuccessfully to settle her nervous system.

  When she was in position, he peered at her over his shoulder. “Where to?"

  She lifted the helmet's visor, took another deep breath, and made a spur-of-the-moment decision. “To that hotel.” She pointed across the street where she'd booked a room earlier in the evening.

  He blinked. She grinned, knowing she'd caught him by surprise.

  After selling her family home and funding much of her defense attorney's retirement plan, which had kept her out of jail if not out of a psych ward, she bought the used service van, because of its lack of windows on the sides and back, and converted it into a house on wheels. She often slept in the back except when she visited Val or landed speaking engagements that provided hotel stays.

  He revved the engine, put the cycle into first gear. “Hang on."

  She slapped the visor closed and hugged him while he drove her from one parking lot to another. She directed him around the side where he chose a vacant spot. After getting off, she waited for him to do the same before she returned his helmet. He chuckled.

  "At least the shortness of the trip reduced my risk of getting a ticket."

  When she gave him a questioning look, he added, “Louisiana law. Everyone must wear helmets. It supposedly saves lives."

  "Ah...” Thinking that she hoped to do the same, she took his hand. After all, if he wasn't out fighting vampires, she could be certain he'd live to see at least one more day.

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  Chapter Five

  Kieran had sensed her panic when he started to leave, but he wasn't quite sure why she had such a change of heart. After she'd shied away from him at the table, he assumed she'd need more time and prepared himself to give her some.