“I always do the job I'm sent to do,” she quipped and started to close the door.
His hand shot out, holding it open.
“Excellent.” Then, he clasped his arms behind his back and rocked back on his heels before taking a step forward. “I thought perhaps you might invite me in. We have much to discuss.”
She hated the way he looked down his nose at her as if he were so superior and she’d mindlessly do his bidding. Early on, she’d learned the truth of his background. He hadn’t been an aristocrat when he was alive. He wasn’t highborn and he’d stolen most of his wealth. Gambling was just one of the many vices he’d accumulated since she’d known him. A long string of prostitutes who’d graced his bed over the years was another.
As usual, he deluded himself. Eleven years with not a peep and here he was knocking on her door again. He reminded her of a lovesick teenager.
“Perhaps I won't.” She kept her foot firmly planted at the base of the door. In the years since he'd turned her, she'd caught on to his ways, seen the lust in his eyes. She'd grown strong. And resentful. It was one of the few emotions she allowed herself.
“Cayenne—”
“Save it, Emil. Go back to wherever you came from and suck on someone else for a change.”
“How can you speak to me like that? After I saved you!” This was the same broken record she’d heard before. Always trying to guilt her.
He leaned in close, a deep frown marring his face. His nostrils flared. “Dieu, Cayenne. What have you done?” He gasped as if she’d struck him. Her lips curved upward at the thought.
“Done?”
He leaned back a fraction and she raised a brow. “You smell just like that—that dog.” He sneered and his nose squished up in disgust.
“Who I sleep with is none of your business.”
“Actually, it’s very much my business.” He paused. Cayenne remained silent. If he was waiting for her to ask why he’d wait forever. A smug expression graced his lips and lit his eyes. “I bought your contract from Madame.”
She remained silent. Unaffected. In those early days with Madame she’d felt thankful to the woman for bringing Cayenne back to health. But somewhere along the way she’d lost her gratitude, her respect and her patience. She felt even less for Emil.
But Cayenne had already decided enough was enough. It was time to close the door on that chapter of her life. She gripped the dagger tighter and ran her tongue over her fangs. Did she dare wipe that look of satisfaction off his face?
“You’re mine, dearest.”
She spoke slowly, enunciating each word carefully. Power rippled through her. “I am not your dearest.”
“Of course you are darling. Now let me in so we can talk.”
“Over my dead body.”
“That can be arranged!” His hand shot through the open door and grabbed her by the throat. But in a lightning fast move of her own, she flicked her dagger, angling it against his groin.
He stilled and his eyes went wide. It was almost comedic but she didn’t laugh. She savored the power she held over him.
“I spent years in training to become the best warrior Madame’s academy has ever seen. What makes you think that you’re man enough to take me?”
His eyes went dark, stormy as he squeezed her throat. Never panic, she heard Madame’s words in her mind. Cayenne cocked her head to the side, watching him closely, and pressed the blade closer to his flesh.
“Let me go or I will take you apart piece by piece.”
He stared at her for a long moment and must have ultimately decided she was deadly serious. He dropped his hand and stepped back.
“Let’s get something straight. I am not your pawn, nor am I your property.”
“No, you’re a whore. A whore who fucks dogs.” He glanced past her and then took another step back.
“It takes one to know one.”
“This isn’t over Cayenne. I made you. I can destroy you.”
She laughed. “You and what army?”
He paused then, eyes narrowed, as if trying to decide if she were bluffing or not. She wasn’t. And they both knew he was no match for her.
He stuttered. Huffed. Puffed up like a blow fish. Then he gave her a final dark look before spinning on his heal and stalking the short distance to the elevator. That’s right. Go on. Don’t want to draw attention to yourself.
She waited until he’d stepped on and the numbers over head began descending before she shut the door and locked every lock.
Dealing with Emil always zapped her energy. Her hand went to her neck. Had he really thought he could scare her? She’d never been afraid of him.
Kill him. The thought was appealing. But could she really kill one of her own kind, much less her sire?
Emil stared at his reflection in the elevator doors. Insolent girl. She tested him far too often. And she’d given herself to that—that beast.
Not that he hadn’t gone slumming in his day. But he’d always thought her above that. A rare beauty. His Cayenne was as strong willed as they came.
Independent or not, he was tired of waiting for her to come to her senses. He was tired of feeling like a pathetic boy, begging for her affections. He’d made the mistake of letting her escape him all those years ago. He knew now he should have bound more than her memories.
“Cayenne…Cayenne,” he muttered and pulled out his cell phone. When the doors opened, he stepped into the lobby and pressed the first number on his call list.
“I need you here. Now.”
Laurent roused slowly and reached out to the woman next to him, but his hand only touched air. His eyelids snapped open, and fear knotted his stomach. He glanced at the empty spot where Cayenne had slept next to him. Raking his hands down his face, he pondered the great cosmic joke that was his love life. Two hundred plus years of loving the same woman. A ghost.
A ghost who'd been very much flesh and blood last night. Who'd let him inside her body. Over and over again.
Vivid images flashed through his mind. His lips on her stomach. Her mouth parted in an O as she came apart beneath him. Their hands, with her long fingernails, entwined.
Outside, the sounds from the city below drifted up to their window. The steady purr of a zipper drew his attention, and he pushed himself into a sitting position. The object of his thoughts sat on the other side of the room in a chair. His heart leapt into his throat when he realized she was getting dressed.
“What are you doing?” he asked, although it was obvious. “Why?”
Her delicate brow rose, and she gave him a what does it look like I'm doing? look as she zipped her boots. Gone was the woman who'd been so playful last night, and in her place was a woman determined to leave him.
“I must go.”
His heart ached over his years of loss, but watching her gather her things now…now that he’d found her again, it was like a dagger to the gut. Not ready to be discarded a second time, his wolf demanded he claim her. He couldn't lose her again. He couldn't. Wouldn't. He wasn't going to live another two hundred years wondering if she were alive. Wondering where she was, and what the hell to do with his sorry self without her.
“Damn it, why?” he asked again.
She lifted a brow. “Did you think I'd just stay in bed with you?”
“After last night? Hell, yes. Don't tell me you didn't feel it too, because I know you did.” They'd connected on a whole different level.
She stood and slipped her long, lean arms into the sleeves of her coat, tugged the lapels together, and turned away. Something about her movements seemed unnatural, like she was hiding something.
What the hell had happened after he’d fallen asleep? He swung his feet to the floor and stalked toward her. As his hands closed around her hips and spun her around, a tiny gasp left her mouth.
He took full advantage, locking his lips onto hers. Searching, speaking. Telling her everything he couldn't put into words. Things he was too scared to say aloud.
At first
she was still, uninvolved. But when his tongue teased its way past her lips, she came alive in his arms, shifted her hips against his, and gripped his upper arms. The leather of her coat was cool beneath his hands, but he craved her soft skin and the warmth they ignited together.
When she tipped her head back, he trailed kisses down her jaw. She pressed herself against him from chest to knee. Not close enough.
Pushing the jacket out of the way, he curved his hands over her hips and pulled her hard against his growing erection. Soft mews came from her lips, and he nibbled the tender skin of her neck.
Opening his eyes, he took her in, the body he'd seen for so many years and yet, had only now begun to know. The woman who'd changed so much from the girl he'd once loved. He could feast his eyes on her for days.
As if realizing he'd stopped kissing her and was looking his fill, she opened her eyes. He wanted to laugh at the look of embarrassment on her pretty face, but she turned away.
He gripped her shoulders and turned her back. She pressed her hand over her heart, but not quickly enough to hide the mark that now lay on her skin.
He looked down at his own chest, and his heart expanded with happiness.
“We're mated.” He tried to keep his voice even, because he wasn't sure how she was going to take the news. And if trying to hide the mark were any indication...
She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again when heavy footsteps echoed through the streets below their room. Laurent let her go and moved to the balcony, peering over the railing.
“Okay, who else did you piss off last night?” he asked, coming back into the room. She looked past him to the warm glow of early morning light.
“I told you I had to go,” she said, hands on her hips. Men never listen…
Laurent glanced around for his clothes. “Do all your friends dress in black and carry automatic weapons?” he asked, shrugging into his shirt, then he pulled his pants over his lean hips.
Automatic weapons? That sounded like Emil’s goons. She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn't call them my friends.” The delicious hum of adrenaline tightened her muscles. She doubled checked her pack and slung it over her shoulder.
“What would you call them?” Hopping up and down, he put on his loafers. She smiled at his ironic choice of footwear.
But if they were indeed Emil’s men, as she was sure they were, he obviously wasn’t taking no for an answer this time. And he was obviously too stupid to take their fight out of the city. Away from prying eyes and innocent bystanders. Worst of all, the slimy weasel wasn’t man enough to face her himself. He probably figured if he ambushed her they could take her by force and she’d coerced into submitting.
Never before had she felt so divided. She’d always fought her battles by herself. But coming down from an orgasmic high, she really didn’t have the energy to take on Emil and his men. Her training warred with her sense of self preservation. Part of her wanted to stay and fight...but another part wanted to run and hide.
“I'd call them enemies,” she said, craning her head to listen. Four, maybe five men were coming up the emergency staircase. The elevator would have been a much quieter point of entry.
Looking at Laurent now…she took a deep, sobering breath and admitted to herself that she wanted more than the life she’d been trained for. If she had the chance to control her destiny, didn’t that mean she could live the life she wanted, apart from death dealing?
She wasn’t sure she’d be good at anything else, but she had plenty of money to live and endless time to discover a new talent. And she could always fall back on her sword.
Laurent stared down at her and she stared right back. She wanted a chance to start over. To disappear. And she needed to feed. Her gaze zeroed in on Laurent’s neck. She licked her lips.
“So what do you say? Stay and fight or run away with me and start over?”
“I don’t run away,” she said automatically. The sentiment had been drilled into her.
He stopped in front of her. “Didn’t they teach you that sometimes the smartest move in battle is to retreat?”
“No.”
“Come with me. We can disappear together.” Smiling as if he had all the confidence in the world, he held out his hand. She leaned down, revealing a luscious swell of skin, and tucked a dagger into her boot.
The footsteps in the stairwell grew louder. She glanced from him to the door and back. The moment stretched on and he tried to read her mind but her thoughts were rapid fire pistons.
“Alright,” she said, sounding breathless. The single word was music to his ears. She stared at his hand for half of a second before taking it.
He kissed her and then left her to push the dresser in front of the door.
“What are you doing? That’s our way out.”
“There’s another way.”
Her gaze swerved to the balcony. “Are you suggesting we make a rope out of the bed linens and shimmy our way down?”
Parts of him stirred at the thought of her luscious behind shimmying. “I’d love to watch you shimmy…some other time.”
He glanced out at the rapidly rising sun. “How do you feel about sunlight?”
“Sunlight?” The word was quick and shrill. Had there not been men after them, he would have taken a moment to enjoy how comical her expression was.
Instead, he nodded grimly. He’d heard that vamps had become immune to sunlight but he didn’t want to test it on her. The roof really was the best way out since he had no idea who was after her or if they’d shoot first and ask questions later.
“I prefer to stay out of it unless I'm wearing SPF 50.”
He wrapped her jacket around her and cinched the belt tight. It came down well over the tops of her boots. But her hands and face were bare. “Let's go.”
“Great,” she said with a grumble. But she sheathed her weapon and started after him. He lead the way to the balcony and down to the end of the building. Behind them, the door to her suite crashed open. Gunfire ricocheted through the room. His heartbeat quickened along with his footsteps.
They were on the top floor, and he quickly gauged the distance to the roof line. Sometimes being super strong came in handy. Now was one of those times.
He let go of her hand and pointed a finger to the roof above. “Up you go.”
“You're joking.” She glanced down at his finger and then up at the rooftop.
“Nope.” He grabbed her around the waist from behind and, as gently as possible, hurtled them both to the roof. Voices from below drove him forward.
The tarred pebbles crushed beneath their feet as they ran across the expanse. When they reached the edge, he surveyed her hands and face. Her skin was turning pink far too fast for his liking.
An alley stretched between the buildings, and she looked at him with an arched brow. Effortlessly, she stepped onto the ledge, lifted her arms, and soared through the air with a grace he had to admire. She landed easily on the other side and turned to look at him.
Wasting no time, he leapt after her, and they took off running again. He didn't dare look back. Pushing ahead was their only option. Right now, he didn't care who was after them, or why. But he very much wanted to stay alive.
When they came to the side of the building, Cayenne put her hand on its edge and soared over it as if it were a vaulting horse. The fire escape groaned under their weight as he joined her. Rusted metal flaked off as they descended.
“Do you see them?” she asked when they were almost to the bottom.
“No. But they’ve probably got this place staked out.” That was a professional operation if he’d ever seen one.
She dropped to the pavement next to him and pushed her hair out of her face.
“You read my mind. There's a car park on the next block,” she said, and he admired that she had an exit strategy. Side by side, they raced down the sidewalk and into the concrete parking deck, up a flight of stairs and along a row of cars.
Emil hissed as he watched his prey ra
cing down the street with the werewolf. He should have killed them both when he’d had the chance. Biting back a curse he spun on his heel and confronted his men.
Find her. Kill him.
The wolf had to live somewhere close by. As for Cayenne, Emil wouldn’t rest until he had his fangs in that beautiful neck of hers.
Chapter Seven
Cayenne strutted over to a shiny black Audi, and Laurent forced his gaze away from her swinging hips. Pulling out her sword, she tightened her grip and smashed the hilt into the small window behind the driver's door. A siren blared through the tight space. Wasting no time, she reached into the car, and unlocked the door. Tossing her sword inside, she dove beneath the dashboard and, a second later, the alarm fell silent.
He lifted his eyebrows. Where had she learned to do that?
“Never mind where,” she said. “Get in.”
Laurent fell into the cushy leather passenger seat. “Head north. My family has an estate where we'll be safe there while we figure out where to go.”
“I know.”
That’s right. She’d been tracking him. Hunting him. Watching him like a deer at the end of her scope.
“Emil will track us,” she said. Who the hell was this Emil bastard? And what did he mean to her?
“Then it will be the last mistake he ever makes.”
“You don't know Emil.”
“You don't know my family.”
“I don't know family, period.” She pulled onto the road and shifted the stick smoothly. In and out of traffic she weaved, confidant in her ability to change lanes.
“How's your skin?” he asked.
“It itches.”
He wanted to fix it. Sooth it. Something. But he doubted she'd let him, so he put on his seatbelt and watched to make sure they weren’t being followed.
He also didn’t tell her the real reason he wanted to get her back to the Deveraux estate. She’d find out soon enough with the way she was driving.
After they turned off the road and pulled up to the gate of Sebastian's estate, he reached across her and pushed the button to lower her window.
Seduced by a Cajun Werewolf Page 5
