Her brow furrowed, slightly puckering in the middle, but then her lips curved. "I'll follow."
Wise girl, but then she was following a vampire to his home.
He headed for his vehicle around back. He hadn't expected to need to use it, but events kept changing on him.
As he drove toward home, he kept glancing in his rearview mirror to see if Cassandra still followed him, and sure enough she kept up.
"You're a damn fool, Tremayne," he murmured, but did it stop him from continuing down the road to his place? Nope, it did not.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tremayne had been flirtatious and sweet as he told her about the dog he rescued from the pound. She had planned on trapping Tremayne at the pub and finding out exactly what preternatural being she was dealing with, and if necessary, taking him out. She hadn't counted on his employees going about their business in the kitchen. She couldn't very well stake and dust their boss without repercussions.
She followed Tremayne's car as they travelled farther and farther away from civilization. Just where was he taking her? Somewhere where no one would hear her scream? She hit her steering wheel with the palm of her hand in frustration. "What am I doing?" She had no proof Tremayne was anything but what he claimed to be: a hunter sent to the US because of an indiscretion, and yet, she sensed there was more to the story, something he didn't want her to find out.
If she played with the notion he were a supernatural creature, what was his end game? Why would he help her track down a Lamia and a rogue vamp? Wouldn't he want to protect them? And if he wasn't Gerard Green, where was the hunter? Did he kill him?
"None of this makes sense." Including the fact that she actually liked Tremayne and his charming ways, winking dimple and all. She couldn't be attracted to a supernatural creature. There had to be a logical explanation for his unorthodox behavior.
Once they parked their cars in the driveway, she stepped out of her vehicle and stared in awe at the enormous beachfront house with so many windows, she'd lost count.
She could definitely rule out vampire, couldn't she? He walked in the sun and his house didn't figure into what a vampire would own. Every vampire sept, though there were differences, they all abhorred direct sunlight, couldn't take it for more than a few minutes before they fried.
She stared at Tremayne as he ventured closer. Sunlight haloed his head like a saint on a holy card she used to get from St. Bonaventure. Only her hunter senses were never wrong, the man was anything but an innocent.
"Just what are you hiding?" she murmured as she met him half way and then followed him to the front door. Her hunter instincts were on full mode, but she couldn't pretend she wasn't attracted to Tremayne. Tall, strong and nice buns. At that moment, he turned to glance at her with a smile. Heat burned her cheeks and she glanced away and forced herself to concentrate on the estate and not her host's attributes.
Tremayne's house sported a large open porch that wrapped around the sides of the house. He was in walking distance of a beach and he had a forest for his backyard.
"Ready to meet my pound pup?" he asked as he placed a hand on the doorknob of his ornate-wood front door.
She nodded and they stepped inside the house. Shakespeare barked in greeting and came bounding around a corner, sliding to a halt as he entered the entryway. Shakespeare, the hound-dog mix of some sort, greeted them with his tail wagging a mile a minute and thumping against the wall of the foyer like a whip.
"Oh my, pound pup? He's a horse." She wasn't afraid of many things, but she learned to be cautious when huge dogs with lots of teeth galloped toward her.
"Sit, Shakespeare," Tremayne demanded and the dog sat back on his haunches, but whined with impatience to be released from the command. Tremayne turned and offered his hand to her. "He may look vicious, but I assure you he's a lover."
It was difficult to believe. The hound stood to her waist and his mouth full of teeth made her think of Red-Riding Hood and the big bad wolf, but then she gazed into the hound's soft-brown, soulful eyes and it was all over from there.
Tremayne drew her closer to Shakespeare and with her free hand she rubbed the dog behind his ears. The hound gave her a slobbery kiss, making her chuckle. "He's adorable," she said.
"I agree," Tremayne voiced, but there was something in the way he said those two words that made her glance at him.
She stood straighter, and all thoughts of big dogs and sharp teeth seemed to slip away. Tremayne's intense gaze made her stomach flutter as if she'd taken a ride down a very steep hill at top speed in a sports car.
"I'm going to kiss you," he said in that all too sexy voice of his with just a tinge of a soft lilt, betraying his Irish roots. He didn't ask, he told her and she, in no way, was going to stop him. Despite all her reservations, despite the fact he may be some kind of supernatural being, she wanted to kiss him, too.
His large hand rested on her lower back as he drew her flush against him. His body felt warm and strong, and he smelled like the woods and the sea combined. He tilted her chin so her eyes met his. Then he lowered his mouth to hers, tasting and teasing until he took her fully, drugging her as his kiss wrapped around her senses, making her knees go weak.
It was such a girly response – one she'd never experienced before she met him – and surprisingly, she liked it. She prized herself on being in control, but found giving Tremayne the reins wasn't so bad. He backed her up against the wall, his kisses more desperate as his hands slid beneath her shirt at her waist, but then he pulled away. Damn him, it felt like a lifeline had been severed. He peered at her as she stared back, both of them trying to catch their breath.
"Cassandra…"
She didn't wait for him to finish. She grabbed his T-shirt and yanked him closer, anxious to have his lips on her once more. She took charge this time, and was pleased he didn't flinch when she took over and devoured with lips, teeth and tongue. There was nothing better than first kisses and nothing more satisfying than knowing these first caresses were only a precursor to all the more intimate ones to follow.
Shakespeare whined and they drew apart. Cassandra's fingers grazed her lips with a self-conscious chuckle. The hound stared at them as if they had lost their minds, and in truth, for those few precious moments, they had.
Tremayne lovingly fingered a few strands of her hair before he brushed them over her shoulder. His hand lingered there and she swallowed the lump in her throat. She should tell him she had to go before things escalated further, but words failed her.
"Do you want a tour of the house?" he asked.
Her mind screamed, No, I want you to kiss me again, but she answered with, "I'd love a tour." Your bedroom would be a nice place to start. Luckily, she didn't voice her suggestion out loud.
His house was painted with soft white and tan hues, and though the house was decorated befitting a male, she felt nothing but warmth. He had antiques, but also modern paintings and furniture comfortable enough to cuddle on when the weather turned cold.
"Your house is spectacular," she told him and meant it.
"Thank you."
Shakespeare tagged along, sometimes running ahead as if he were the docent giving the tour.
"And this is the kitchen," Tremayne said as they came downstairs and rounded the corner. Shakespeare worked his way in between them. Cassandra went to pet him at the same time Tremayne did and their hands brushed. She was about to pull back, but he clasped her hand in his. She met his gaze, and for the second time this night she wondered what in the world she was doing? She drove the rental car to his pub with the intent to expose him as a liar and a preternatural being. She'd planned to stake and dust him, but here she was in his house, kissing him, and worse. Thoughts of seducing him into bed teased her mind with blush-worthy images.
"Want to stay for dinner?" he asked.
"Huh?"
"You know…nourishment, food…"
She glanced at her wristwatch. "Uh…it's barely noon."
"I know."
&nbs
p; Her gaze riveted to his. "Are you asking me to stay the day?"
"I'm sure we could think of something to do until dinnertime." He pulled her into his embrace.
When he looked at her the way he did now, she couldn't say no. She started this game of cat and mouse, only now she wasn't so sure she remained the cat in this scenario.
"Say you will stay," he insisted, but held back, waiting for her answer.
Her heart beat faster at the prospect. Had she ruled out he wasn't a preternatural being? The sun shining through the windows told her he didn't shy away from good old fashion sunshine, but there were many other creatures of the night that could walk with ease during the daytime hours. The Fae for one.
Her gaze shifted over his features and liking what she saw. Good looking, strong, and a man who understood the hunter's way of life… Even if he wasn't human, he stood by her side. He had saved her. What other answer could she have?
"Yes, I'd love to stay." It didn't mean she couldn't still be cautious. Yeah right. Caution took the back seat the moment she followed him home.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tremayne stood on his balcony in his room, leaning heavily on the railing. The moon peered back at him, but it didn't judge. No, never judged like the sun with its blades of light. All was quiet except for the ocean's waves as they lulled the night along like a peaceful lullaby.
He had a full day with Cassandra. They walked on the beach and chatted. She told him about her brothers and he spoke of his family, just leaving out the fact that they were vampires. Truthfully their families were not so different. They laughed, cried… hunted. As much as he believed she was interested in knowing him better, he knew she fished for information about Gerard Green, but he'd looked through the bloke's phone, had Bram run a check on the hunter before he corrupted his files at the Bureau. Gerard had an ex-wife and a sister. Cassandra didn't believe he was Mr. Green, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what had tipped her off. He only hoped his answers had put her off the trail, and the fact he walked in the sun probably had her rethinking her suspicions.
The sun had felt good against his skin, but not as good as Cassandra felt in his arms. He hadn't felt this comfortable with a female in a long time, and that was saying something when said female was grilling him to find out the real truth. He could have ended it anytime. He could have sent her home, but then she'd give him a look, sweet and all so tantalizing at the same time. He may be lying about who he claimed to be, but his feelings for her were genuine. He was falling for her. Who was he kidding? He'd fallen for her, big time.
Later, they drove into town for dinner at an Italian restaurant, where they drank wine and talked some more. Truly, he couldn't remember having a more engaging conversation with someone. Cassandra loved Lord Byron, Keats, and especially Percy Shelley and Mary Shelley's work. Of course she would know the author who wrote about one of the most famous monsters.
"Percy and Mary's relationship was scandalous for the time," she said. "Shelley had been a married man when he ran away with her."
"Sometimes men can be fools when it comes to love," he said and met her gaze. "We know the relationship is wrong, and shouldn't pursue it, but yet we still take the chance for that one moment of pure bliss."
"Hmm…" She sipped her wine. "Are you speaking from experience, Mr. Green?"
"Tremayne," he corrected, not wanting the dead hunter here with them. "Perhaps." He shrugged. "Would you take the chance?"
"For love?" she asked and he nodded. "Yes, I do believe I might. But not with a married man," she added. "There are some lines I will not cross."
Would she cross the line and fall for him, a monster her Preternatural Bureau would label him? He wondered, but then she did have compassion for Frankenstein's monster, believing his rejection, and loneliness drove him to be mad.
"So you're saying if the monster had been hugged and nurtured, he would not have killed over and over again?" he asked.
"We'll never know," she said. "But then we wouldn't have a story if it went directly to hugs and kisses."
"No, I suppose we wouldn't."
He had a wonderful day and should be basking in it still, but his body felt bloody awful. He ate food at the restaurant, but not enough to make him this ill. Wine didn't affect vampires. Yet his head pounded as if he had one of those hangovers, he heard humans describe.
He rang Sheerin the moment he could. Sheerin assured him this was a side effect from the potion and he'd have to ride it out.
Thank goodness his meltdown hadn't occurred until long after the sun had set. His hands shook, his mouth felt as if he ate sand, and the pit of his stomach ached for substance, a vampire's kind of substance.
If he'd been a newly made vamp, Cassandra's life would have been at risk. Heck, what was he saying? His life would have been in jeopardy. Cassandra would have dusted him on the spot if he'd lost control and nibbled on her neck. No questions asked. Lucky for him, he learned self-control. In his youth, he'd been taken prisoner from one of the more lethal vampire septs. For entertainment, they would bleed him before they locked him in a cell with humans to see how long it would take before he broke and drank them dry. That was centuries ago, but he'd never forgotten the lessons… and the consequences of his actions when he hadn't.
He lifted the cup to his lips and indulged in the specialty drink of wine and blood. His wine cellar was stocked with more of the same vintage.
His mind drifted to Cassandra, who slept peacefully on his bed. They hadn't made love, but talked some more as if they hadn't said enough already. They played cards of all things. She had a wicked sense of humor and a need to win. Unfortunately for her, he liked to win also. His lips curved as he remembered how bewildered she'd looked when he placed the cards on the table and said, "Gin." He was beginning to learn her expressions and what they meant. This would prove a more dangerous game, especially since it involved his heart.
He glanced toward the open French doors where he could see Cassandra stretched out on his bed. Her mahogany strands appeared like dark silk on his pillow in the dim light. The steady thump of her heart told him she slept still. He took a step toward her, but stopped when he heard the low growl from Shakespeare. His dog trotted into view and sat on his haunches at the threshold of the French doors. Shakespeare knew he was dangerous, and he would do his best to protect the woman sleeping on his bed.
"I know, lad," he said to his hound. He could not trust himself to behave, and he didn't entirely mean his longing to feed, but rather his desire to touch her…make love to her.
He closed his eyes and turned away. He must remain on the balcony for now. He reached for the wine bottle on the table instead of his glass and downed the rest of the liquid. The blood seeped into his system like a salve for his parched insides. He placed the bottle down on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
The glass top table was part of a patio set, he purchased years ago. He'd only sat out here at night, but today, he'd lounged in broad daylight, enjoying the surf as the waves rolled in. Cassandra had sat next to him. He'd glanced at her and remembered how glad he'd been when she'd finally relaxed. He didn't believe she'd totally given up on proving he wasn't human, but for a while she let it go.
"Definitely a day to remember," he murmured and slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a breath mint and sucked on it a few seconds so to remove any lingering taste of blood. Just in case, he thought. He just might kiss Cassandra Hayes before she left his residence and headed back to her hotel. Though he liked the taste of blood, he didn't fancy Cassandra would.
"Couldn't sleep?"
He froze at the sound of Cassandra's voice. Could he be near her now and not jeopardize her wellbeing? He held out his hands in front of him. They were steadier than they had been earlier.
He didn't have to turn around to know she was walking toward him. Her soft footfalls were like thunder in his ears or was it his vampire heart beating faster than it should?
H
e swallowed hard as her hands slipped around his waist. She then maneuvered herself in front of him. Large green cat-like eyes peered at him beneath dark lashes. Beautiful and lethal and he really, really wanted to kiss those rose-colored lips. His hands slid into her hair as he cupped her face and indulged. Heaven above, she tasted better than the richest blood, better than anything he'd tasted in a long time.
Her hold on him tightened as she stepped closer, her every curve pressing against him, and if she didn't know he wanted her before, she knew now. Her tongue danced with his and he found himself leading her back inside the house and toward the bed. They fell upon it, still kissing, touching, ravishing…
"Tremayne?"
A voice called to him, but he tried to push it away. He wanted to enjoy this moment with Cassandra.
"Tremayne?" the voice was louder and then someone shook him.
What the— His eyes flew open and he sat up straight. He blinked back the haziness clouding his mind and forced his eyes to focus. He wasn't in bed with Cassandra, but sitting on one of the chairs outside on his balcony. Cassandra stood in front of him, frowning at him with concern.
His hand washed over his face as if to erase the last remnants of sleep. He cleared his throat. "Sorry, must have dozed off out here," he told her.
"Yeah," she said and smiled. "I did a little dozing myself inside." She pointed with her thumb toward the bed, a blush spreading from her neck to her cheeks.
His keen senses had returned. Sheerin's daylight concoction must have finally worn off, but the remnants of the dream still lingered and he shifted in his seat and hoped Cassandra hadn't noticed.
"I should be going," she said. As much as he'd like her to stay, he really needed to let her go. He didn't have anymore of the daylight serum and he couldn't very well have her stay overnight.
"I'll walk you to your car." For a moment he thought the light in her green eyes had dimmed. Did she seem disappointed that he didn't ask her to stay? If so, she masked it well by shifting her attention to Shakespeare who had padded over to her. She scratched behind the big dog's ears.
Stake and Dust (Stake and Dust series, Book I) Page 12
