Broken Dawn (Immortal Guardians Book 10)

by Dianne Duvall

  “Oh sure. You can laugh,” she grumbled as she took it. “You have Kayla.”

  He winced. “Not yet, I don’t. There’s a goodly chance I’m going to bungle things with her. Badly.” He gestured to the vampires, who began to shrivel up and sink in on themselves as the virus that infected them devoured them from the inside out. “She doesn’t even know about this aspect of my life. And I don’t know how to tell her. What woman wouldn’t flee from a man who claims he hunts and kills vampires for a living?”

  “A strong one,” she retorted, the words a little muffled as she wiped her face clean. “And Kayla is ballsy. I knew it as soon as I met her.”

  He smiled. “She is. Strong women are so hot.”

  Wiping her hands clean, she smiled wryly. “Some men wouldn’t agree.”

  He shrugged. “Only if they’re pussies.”

  Laughing, she handed him the sticky cloth. “If Kayla is as smart as she appears to be, you two are going to be great together. Stop stressing over the little things.”

  He snorted. “Little things like the bizarre gift I was born with and my violent vocation?”

  She made a pfft sound. “That’s nothing. Leaving the toilet seat up so she’ll fall in if she gets up to pee during the night will disturb her far more.”

  Again he laughed.

  “What do you say we clean this up quickly so you can go home early and apologize before Kayla goes to bed?”

  Bending, he picked up one of the tactical knives. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Kayla stared at her laptop. Should she edit one more chapter or stop for the night?

  She glanced through the cracked blinds on her office window. A light came on in Nick’s house.

  Biting her lip, she tried to decide whether she would go ahead and get more work done or venture outside to see if he’d join her.

  It wasn’t much of a debate. Nick had been prowling through her thoughts all night.

  Saving her work, she turned off the light in her office. Quiet enfolded her as she strode through the house to the back door. Becca had turned in a few hours earlier.

  Snagging a jacket from the coat hook in the laundry room, Kayla tugged it on, then slid her bare feet into sneakers and stepped outside.

  Warm, humid air greeted her. Grimacing, she removed the jacket and tossed it back inside. She often missed the days of her childhood when temperatures would dip down in autumn and stay cool all season instead of bouncing back and forth the way they did now: cool for a day or two, hot for five.

  The neighborhood she had grown up in had been a lot quieter, too, homeowners more considerate of their neighbors. Tonight it sounded like someone a few blocks over was having one hell of a party. Sheesh. She’d hate to live next door to him.

  Crossing to her pepper plants, she peered down at them just to have something to do. No snails tonight. Good. Hopefully she could keep them at bay long enough for the plant to sprout new flowers and give her some more peppers.

  Nick’s back door opened and closed.

  Her heartbeat picked up as footsteps approached the fence and his handsome face appeared above it.

  “Hi,” he said softly.

  “Hi.” Damn it. Why did she feel so nervous?

  “Where’s Becca?” His raven hair was slicked back from a shower.

  “Upstairs, asleep. She doesn’t want to get too far off her morning schedule before she goes back to school.”

  He nodded. “May I join you?”

  “Sure.”

  He gripped the top of the five-foot fence with one hand and vaulted over it as effortlessly as if he’d jumped on a trampoline.

  Smiling, Kayla shook her head. “It must be cool to be so strong.”

  Though he nodded, he didn’t smile as he slowly approached her. “I wanted to apologize.”

  The nearer he came, the more her pulse raced and butterflies danced in her belly. “For what?”

  When he stopped, they were so close they almost touched. “For earlier.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “For pulling away when you touched me.”

  She swallowed as embarrassment drove heat into her cheeks. “Oh. That.” Just ask him. “Have you changed your mind, Nick? Do you want us to just be friends?”

  “Hell no.” The words left his lips so forcefully she couldn’t doubt them.

  “Then why did you pull away?”

  He moved around her in a half circle that left him standing with his back to her house.

  Kayla swiveled as he did, holding her breath while she stared up at him and awaited his response.

  When it came, it was not the one she expected.

  Sliding an arm around her waist, he drew her up against him so quickly she gasped. His head dipped. His lips claimed hers with enough hunger to curl her toes. He fisted his other hand in her hair, tilting her head to gain better access.

  Moaning, she wrapped her arms around his strong neck and kissed him back for all she was worth, tongues stroking and touching and stoking the fire until she had to draw back and suck in a quick breath of air just to keep from combusting.

  Releasing her hair, he stared down at her and motioned to his face. “This is why.” His eyes glowed with vibrant amber light. “Now that I’ve tasted you and touched you, I want you so much that even the slightest brush of your hand makes me want to strip you bare and lick you all over.”

  “Oh shit.”

  “Exactly. If I’m sitting at the table or standing behind the counter cooking dinner, I can hide the fact that my cock is hard and aching for you. But this…” Again he motioned to his eyes with unconcealed frustration. “This I can’t hide. And I couldn’t risk Becca seeing it.”

  “Oh.”

  “Nor could I say as much in front of her. I’m sorry. I wasn’t rejecting you when I pulled away. I was just trying to keep my eyes from glowing.”

  “Okay. Thank you for telling me.”

  He brushed her hair back from her face, tenderness softening some of the hardness lust had driven into his features. “I would never intentionally hurt you, Kayla. I need you to believe that.”

  “I do.” Keeping her casted arm around his neck, she slipped her other hand down over his shoulder and his collarbone to one of the pecs outlined by his black T-shirt. “So… my touch makes you hard?” She drew her thumb across his pebbled nipple.

  His hold on her tightened. “Yes.”

  Smiling, Kayla continued her exploration, smoothing her hand down his washboard abs, over the waistband of his cargo pants to the large bulge beneath. She cupped his long length, stroking him through his pants. “You are definitely hard.”

  His breath whooshed out as he crowded closer.

  He was big, too. And sooooo damned tempting.

  “Becca is asleep,” she murmured.

  “But she’ll be awake in a couple hours, right?”

  “Yes.” Her breath shortened as she imagined the hard length she cupped plunging inside her and all of Nick’s beautiful muscles flexing as he pounded into her.

  He shook his head. “I don’t want our first time together to be too quick.”

  She stilled. Her eyes widened. Two hours was quick? He’d made her come in a matter of seconds the night of her accident. Her husband hadn’t actually cared that much about her having orgasms the last few years of their marriage. So sex with him hadn’t lasted more than a few minutes. Even in their early years together, he’d never lasted more than fifteen or twenty minutes if you counted foreplay. “Two hours is quick for you?”

  He dipped his head, pressed his lips to the sensitive skin beneath her ear, and whispered, “Immortals don’t need recovery time. We can go again immediately.” His teeth delivered a little love bite to her earlobe. His voice deepened to almost a growl. “And I know I’ll want to go again and again with you.”

  Her body went liquid. She could not remember ever wanting a man so desperately. “So if I unzipped your pants right now, dropped to my knees, and took you in my mouth…”

 
He groaned. “As soon as I came, I would strip those yoga pants off you and take you against the fence.”

  Kayla really wished she could follow through on that, wished she could forget that Becca was upstairs and they were surrounded by two-story houses with windows.

  “But,” Nick added, meeting her gaze with those iridescent amber eyes as he gently drew her hand away from his cock and placed it on his chest above his thudding heart, “the next time I come, I want to be balls deep inside you.”

  “Wow,” she whispered, fisting her hand in his shirt. “No one has ever said anything like that to me before.”

  His gaze turned watchful. “Too blunt?”

  “No. I like it.” She really did. It just made her want him more.

  His lips turned up in a boyish smile. “Good.” He pressed a kiss to her lips, this one light and sweet despite the desire that threatened to consume them. “I’d make you come again now,” he murmured, “but I don’t want to wake up Becca. Or the neighbors.”

  Heat flooded her face all the way to her hairline as his meaning sank in. “Oh crap.” Lowering her heels to the pavement, she pressed her forehead to his shirt and moaned, this time in dismay. “I was loud, wasn’t I, when you touched me after my accident?”

  Chuckling, he tightened his arms around her. “Yes.”

  She and her husband had always been as quiet as possible when they’d had sex, first so they wouldn’t wake the baby who never seemed to want to sleep, and then so Becca wouldn’t know what they were up to. But even before Becca had come along, Kayla hadn’t been anything close to a screamer. “How loud?”

  “Loud enough that I couldn’t hear anything with my right ear for several minutes afterward,” he teased.

  Laughing, she leaned back and gave his shoulder a shove. “You are so bad!”

  “It’s your fault. You bring it out in me.”

  “Uh-huh. Sure I do. How red is my face right now?”

  He grinned. “You’ve passed raspberry and are rapidly approaching full-blown strawberry. It’s adorable.”

  She laughed.

  He nodded toward her house. “Can I talk you into sharing a snack with me while we watch a movie or something for a bit? I know you need to go to bed soon, but I’d love to spend some time with you first. I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

  Stepping back, she shook her head with mock disappointment. “I was going to say yes… but then you blew it with the hands thing.”

  He chuckled. “And if I promise not to keep my hands to myself?”

  Crossing to the back door, she opened it and offered him a dramatic bow. “Step inside, my dear sir.”

  Those soft, full lips of his stretching in a smile, he did as ordered.

  There was a notable spring in Nick’s step the next evening as he headed out the front door and toward the driveway. Kayla was on her way to the airport and would soon see Becca safely deposited on a plane to North Carolina. Nick intended to do everything he could to finish tonight’s hunt early. Then…

  He smiled.

  Then he would spend hours and hours making love with Kayla. He couldn’t wait.

  As he approached his Tesla Model X, that crawling sensation of being watched raised the hairs on the back of his neck again. Nick slowed to a halt. Glanced around.

  There. A sleek black Mercedes E class with tinted windows that could not look more out of place in this typical middle-class suburban neighborhood hugged the curb a few houses down.

  Tucking his keys in the pocket of his long black coat, he strolled toward it.

  “That’s him,” he heard a man inside murmur, his voice vaguely familiar.

  The driver’s door opened. A man wearing a black suit, white dress shirt, black tie, and a chauffeur’s hat emerged. Closing his door, he opened the one behind it.

  A frail old man stepped out.

  Nick swore silently. It was the man from the hospital. Richard Roubal.

  “Can I help you?” Nick asked guardedly as he approached them. Stopping, he feigned recognition. “You’re the man from the hospital, aren’t you? The one who knew my grandfather? Richard something.” He snapped his fingers. “Richard Reuben, wasn’t it?”

  The old man’s lips tightened with annoyance as he leaned heavily on his cane. “It’s Roubal. Richard Roubal. But then you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  The chauffeur stood behind the old man, his hands clasped in front of him.

  Nick shrugged and offered him a good-natured smile. “I’m afraid I’m not very good with names. Can I help you with something?” He lowered the wattage of his smile a bit. “If you’ve come to speak with my grandfather and swap war stories, I’m afraid you’re too late. He passed away ten years ago. We lost my grandmother shortly thereafter.” The network had even posted fictional obituaries in the newspaper.

  The old man made his slow way forward. “So that’s how you’re going to play this? You’re going to keep pretending you’re your own grandson?”

  Nick gave his head a regretful shake, wondering why the hell this man had rejected the story and tracked him down. The network tended to make that unlikely when they helped Immortal Guardians relocate and gave them new identities, often as their own descendants in case shit like this happened. “There’s no pretense here, sir. I thought we cleared that up at the hospital.”

  “The hospital was bullshit. This”—he motioned to Nick—“is bullshit. I want to know how you did it. I want to know how you stayed so youthful while I turned into this.” He motioned to his frail body.

  Nick glanced at the chauffeur. “Is there any way you could call his son? I don’t remember his name. I only met him the once at the hospital. But he said Mr. Reuben here—”

  “It’s Roubal, damn it!” the old man snapped.

  “He said Mr. Roubal here gets confused like this sometimes and might know better how to handle this.”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it!” Roubal shouted, his thin, withered face darkening with rage. Swinging around, he pointed at the chauffeur, who was drawing a cell phone from his pocket. “Touch that phone and you’re fired.”

  The man dropped the phone back into his pocket, then clasped his hands in front of him once more. “Yes, sir.”

  The old man turned back to Nick. “The cancer and dementia have not eradicated my intelligence. I know you’re who I think you are.”

  Nick held both hands up in a placating gesture. “I’m sure you believe that, sir, but I can prove I’m Nicolas Belanger’s grandson. I have pictures of us together.” Thanks to the network’s techno geeks, their AI-assisted aging software, and their phenomenal photo-altering capabilities, Nick actually had several photos of himself either standing beside or sitting with an artificially aged image of himself. “I’d be happy to show them to you. I can bring them out here, or you’re welcome to step inside my home for a few minutes.”

  The old man started toward Nick’s home. “Stay here,” he barked over his shoulder.

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Roubal.” The chauffeur opened the driver’s door, settled himself behind the wheel, and closed it again.

  Nick accompanied the old man to his front door and preceded him inside. Pocketing his keys, he headed for the living room. “Wait here, please.” He crossed to one of the bookcases and grabbed the framed photo of himself with his granddad-self that Oliver kept there for shits and giggles. Returning to the old man, he held it out.

  Roubal took it with a scowl of suspicion.

  “There are more I can show you if you’d like to see them.”

  “You do that,” Roubal ordered gruffly, frowning at the picture.

  Nick couldn’t decide if the man was incredibly stubborn or incredibly astute. Either way, he didn’t seem to be buying the cover story at all. Heading into Oliver’s office, Nick drew his cell phone out of his pocket and texted Seth: SOS. A man who knew me in Vietnam recognized me at the hospital and showed up at my house. He’s here now.

  A few seconds ticked past.

  Se
th abruptly appeared, a katana in each hand. His shoulder-length black hair was windblown. Glistening streaks and droplets of blood adorned his black cargo pants, T-shirt, and long coat. Wiping the crimson-coated blades of his katanas on his pants, he quickly sheathed them. “Where is he?”

  Nick nodded toward the front of the house.

  Seth’s boots thudded on the bamboo floor as he followed Nick back to the elderly troublemaker.

  Richard Roubal glanced up from the photograph. His arthritic hand tightened on the frame as he stared up at Seth. His eyes widened ever so slightly before he opened his mouth to bluster who-knew-what. Then his face went blank. His hand lowered to his side.

  Nick took the photo from him before he could drop it.

  Seth stared intently at the old man for several minutes, then glanced at Nick. “It’s done. He won’t remember coming here. Nor will he remember the incident at the hospital. I’ll have to bury the chauffeur’s memory, too, and track down a few men at Roubal’s office.”

  Nick winced. “Sorry about that.”

  Seth shook his head. “Occupational hazard. It happens. His occasionally foggy mental state will help blow this over. But we do need this to blow over.”

  Something in his voice sparked a feeling of dread. “Why?”

  “He owns an empire built upon oil and gas as well as weapons manufacturing. And because he served so long in the military and left on good terms, he nets a lot of government contracts.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “No.”

  “Shit.” The last thing they needed was someone with Roubal’s connections getting wind of immortals. In recent years, Immortal Guardians had engaged in vicious battles with mercenaries who had learned about them and done their damnedest to get their hands on immortals and vampires, salivating over the billions of dollars they could earn hiring out supersoldiers to the highest bidders. “What can I do?”

  “Not much more than you already have really. I’ll walk Roubal back to his car and take care of his driver. Then I’ll head to the network and have Henderson and his crew help me rectify the rest.”

  Roubal turned and faced the door as though he were in a trance.