Suddenly the glove was gone, leaving his bare skin touching her. “Do you mind?” he whispered, lifting his head, his eyes shimmering in the shadow of his hat. “I wanted to feel you.”
“No,” she gasped. “No, I don’t mind.”
His thumb strummed her clit until rapture forced her to dig her nails into the tight ridges of his biceps to keep from screaming. His hard, flexing strength intoxicated her. She relaxed her desperate grip to brush her hands up the curving muscle of his arms to the contours of his powerful chest.
Two fingers thrust into her, eager and demanding. Val panted. Suddenly he pushed himself off her, but before she could murmur a protest, he moved down until his head was between her thighs.
His hands caught her legs and spread them wide. She felt the brim of his hat brush her skin just before his tongue began to lick, seeking out her most sensitive flesh and laving it with wet skill.
“God, Cowboy,” she groaned, just as she had so many times before. As he nibbled and sucked, his hands found her breasts again, caressing with such delicate skill she could only toss her head in pleasure. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted him. On top of her, in her. Now. She clawed at his bare shoulders. “Cowboy!”
He shoved himself upward, rising onto his knees. The jeans had disappeared, and he was naked except for the vest and the badge. His massive sex brushed against her thigh, a length of hot, velvet-sheathed steel eager for her clamping heat.
She licked her lips. “Awake, I’ve never had anyone the size of you.”
“Good,” he growled, and then he was inside her. His strength took her breath. He felt endless as he entered, slick and thick and delicious.
She groaned, arousal pouring through her in a molten rush.
His hips rolled between her thighs as he began to thrust in driving lunges. She hooked her legs over his muscled rump, curled her arms around his broad back, and held on to his bucking body.
As she threw her head back in pleasure, Cowboy lifted his own, and the moonlight shone full in his face under his hat. His mouth was open and gasping in pleasure. His fangs gleamed, white and sharp.
He started to lower his head toward her throat…
* * *
Val’s eyes snapped open. McKinnon lay on top of her, his massive body nestled between her thighs. His erection pressed against her sex, kept from entry only by her cotton sweats and his nylon shorts. For a moment she thought she was still dreaming, until she met his startled eyes in the daylight pouring in through the drawn curtains.
“First time I ever woke up from one of those dreams to find you actually here,” he said, slipping his arms around her, drawing her even closer. His cock rubbed against her with the movement. “This has possibilities.” Fangs gleamed in his roguish smile.
Val stared up at him. “You did that on purpose!” She shoved futility at his massive shoulders.
McKinnon sat back on his haunches and let her scramble away. “Actually, I didn’t. It just… happened.”
“Well, it had better not happen again. Stay the hell out of my dreams!” she snapped, before it occurred to her the threat had no teeth at all. He could do any damn thing he wanted to her, and there was no way she could stop him.
“Hey, it wasn’t intentional,” he protested. “Besides, half the time you’re the one coming into my dreams!”
He had a point, but she was damned if she’d admit it. “Whatever.” Val rolled out of bed. “I’m going to go get a shower.”
“You do that,” he growled, his eyes flicking to the curtained windows, which were beginning to darken noticeably. “It’s almost sunset anyway. We need to hit the road. I want to get out of here before Ridgemont comes calling.”
Val snatched a change of clothes out of her suitcase and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her with a satisfying bang. “Jerk.” She dragged off her shirt and shorts, then tossed them on top of the commode with her clean clothes before turning to give the shower tap a vicious twist. “Big, toothy, sexy jerk.”
She started to turn the hot water off completely, but she wasn’t that much a masochist. Setting the temp to lukewarm instead, she plunged under the needle spray and let it pound her over-sensitized body. Those damn dreams had always done this to her. And the effect was worse -- infinitely worse -- now that she knew Cowboy was real.
Her nipples were so swollen they felt like grapes. Slipping an exploring hand between her legs, she found she was as slick as whipped cream. So slick she couldn’t resist stroking her own desperate flesh. Letting her head drop back, Val bit her lip and plunged her fingers deep as she remembered the way he looked, naked and dripping, his heavy cock tilted upward slightly with the force of his hunger.
It crossed her mind to hope Abigail was nowhere around. Then she forgot everything else. She was so hot it barely took a moment to bring herself to a hard, rolling climax.
When she was finished, she hurriedly soaped her tingling body, bitterly ashamed of herself. He was a vampire, dammit.
Yet nobody but him had ever touched her like that. Maybe that’s why she’d never fallen in love with anyone else -- no mere human male could compete with Cowboy. And now that she knew he was real, how the hell was she supposed to keep her hands to herself?
Val grabbed the hot water tap and turned it all the way off, biting back a scream as needles of ice-cold water pounded her overheated body.
* * *
The war axe was a work of art, intricately engraved across its two-foot-wide blade with scenes of battle, its thick oak handle carved with runes. Half-hypnotized, Hirsch drew his thumb along the edge and watched a runnel of blood roll down from the cut. He hefted the weapon in his hand, feeling the weight, the perfect balance. It could cut through a man’s neck like a stick of butter.
Ridgemont had presented the weapon to him just before he’d left, with instructions to use it on the American.
The German closed his eyes, picturing the moment when he’d separate McKinnon from his head. The bastard’s blood would gush like a fountain, and Hirsch would bathe in it. He could almost taste it on his tongue, the sting and bite of a vampire’s life, so much sharper than the sweet copper of a woman’s.
And once he’d fed from Ridgemont’s precious gunslinger, there’d be Valerie Chase. Hirsch licked his lips and felt his cock swell.
A psychic flare of unease drew his attention to the muscular bald man sitting across from him. Giovanni Casale was a skilled and merciless killer. The former mob hit man was so renowned for the ice in his veins, Ridgemont had been impressed enough to recruit him. Yet there was fear on his face as he watched Hirsch now.
The German grinned in pleasure. He did so enjoy terrifying mortals.
“We’ll be landing in five,” the helicopter pilot said through his headset.
“Not too close to the motel,” Hirsch cautioned into his microphone. “I don’t want McKinnon to realize we’re coming for him.”
Ridgemont had gotten word of the fugitives’ location at the ungodly hour of three in the afternoon. Hirsch hadn’t appreciated being ordered from his cool bed and out into the stinging sunlight, but if the assault worked, it would be worth it.
Luckily both the limo and the helicopter’s cockpit windows had been polarized to block ultraviolet, so the trip had been tolerable. Now night had fallen just in time, and Hirsch was more than ready to kill McKinnon and take the girl.
He wondered if the American had ignored his scruples and fed on his captive. It would be even sweeter if he had. How it would torture the American to die knowing what would happen to her at Hirsch’s hands!
He couldn’t wait to fuck her. She had the kind of big tits and long-legged body he loved in his victims. Even better, he couldn’t compel her like a normal female, so she’d fight the way she had back at the parking garage. The thought made his dick strain against his zipper. It had been decades since he’d had to hold a woman down. Sometimes he let them struggle, but that wasn’t the same. The last time he’d really had to use force had
been that French resistance fighter during the war. Screwing Valerie would be even better, especially if he did her while McKinnon was alive to watch.
Then he’d take her back to Ridgemont, along with the American’s severed head.
“While I take Cade, I want you to capture the girl. But don’t hurt her.” Hirsch smiled in hot anticipation. “I’ll take care of that.”
* * *
Valerie finally emerged from the bathroom just as Cade was considering going in after her. He’d already dressed, strapped on his gun, and packed the car with the sword and the rest of their gear.
“Took you long enough,” he growled, trying to ignore the way her blue T-shirt and jeans showcased that mouth-watering figure. They’d better hit road before he laid her back on that bed and finished what that damn dream had started.
Catching her by the elbow, he opened the door. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover tonight, and we’re not doing it dawdling here.”
“What happens when we get where we’re going?” Val asked as he guided her under the overhang toward the car.
“To start with, I’ll --”
“Cade, it’s Hirsch!” Abigail shouted into his mind.
Shit! He shoved Val behind him and drew his gun.
With a roar of triumph, the German plummeted down on him from the motel’s overhanging roof. Something metallic flashed at his head, but he snapped aside as Hirsch hit him with a teeth-jarring jolt. They slammed into the pavement so hard the impact knocked the gun from his hand. Cade fisted both hands into Hirsch’s shirt, kicked a foot into his belly, and sent him flying. Rolling to his feet, he silently cursed himself for letting the German take him off-guard.
“We’ll see who gets butchered now, American,” Hirsch snarled, leaping up with a huge battle axe in his hand. That flash of reflection Cade had seen must have been the blade barely missing his head.
Oh, hell, the sword’s in the back of the car! Cade scanned for the gun, didn’t see it, and braced himself to fight barehanded.
The big German moved toward him on the balls of his feet, the axe glittering in the cold light of the streetlamps. His smile was chilling. “This time I’ve got you, you sanctimonious prick.”
“Not even in your dreams, Gerhard.” But he wasn’t as confident as he tried to sound. He’d underestimated Hirsch badly. If he didn’t turn this around now, he was dead -- and Valerie would pay for his bad judgement.
* * *
Val hit the ground on her belly, desperately searching for McKinnon’s gun. She’d seen it slide under the Lexus. If she could find it, she was going to put a bullet in the German’s brain. She was damned if she’d stand around wringing her hands like a Victorian virgin.
It was pitch black under the car, but as she plastered her face against the cold pavement, she could see the silhouette of the pistol on the ground. She stretched out a hand so far, her shoulder joint protested. And just managed to touch the chill metal grip with her fingers.
Clawing at it, she worked the gun close enough to grab. The minute she got her fingers around it, she jumped to her feet and thumbed off the safety. A few months back she’d done some target shooting for a story, and her instructor had told her she was a natural shot. Now she’d find out whether he’d just been flattering her.
Val stole a glance at the two vampires just as Hirsch swung his axe at McKinnon’s belly. He leaped back to avoid being cut in two, then lunged inside the reach of the axe and grabbed Hirsch’s forearm. His momentum slammed him against the bigger vampire’s chest, and the two surged against one another as they struggled for the weapon in an intimidating display of muscle and effort.
Val set her feet apart the way she’d been taught and raised the gun to take aim at the German’s back. Her stomach pitched at the thought of shooting anybody, even such a monster, but she gritted her teeth and steadied her aim. She couldn’t let him kill McKinnon.
“I wouldn’t,” a strange voice said. Something cold pressed against the back of her neck.
The muzzle of a gun.
“Drop it,” the gunman ordered.
Shit, she thought, Hirsch brought reinforcements.
The good news was that it wasn’t Ridgemont, judging by the lack of the English accent. Which meant he was a flunky. And that meant she had a chance.
“I said drop it!” the man barked. “Or I’ll blow your little red head right off.”
Every trace of spit left Val’s mouth, but she didn’t put down the gun. “You won’t shoot me.”
He laughed, the sound so nasty she felt a chill crawl her spine. “A lot of dead people could tell you different.”
“But Ridgemont didn’t need them alive.” Val began to turn, trying to ignore the icy pressure of the muzzle scraping against her head with the movement. “And he would be very, very unhappy if you killed me.”
She almost thought better of her plan when she got a good look at the gunman. He wasn’t a big man, but his navy windbreaker stretched over a barrel chest. His head was shaved smooth as a bowling ball, and he had a face like a hatchet, set with little brown eyes as cold and flat as black ice.
Val got the feeling he considered murder on a par with brushing his teeth. I’m lucky he’d let me turn around without pulling the trigger. Taking the biggest chance of her life, she pointed McKinnon’s gun at him. Amazingly, the weapon didn’t shake in her hands. “I don’t think you want to make Ridgemont unhappy.” He’d better not, she thought grimily. Or I’m dead.
Those tiny black eyes flicked down to the weapon’s nine-millimeter muzzle, then back to her face. “Thing is, letting you go would really piss him off. And I don’t think you’ll shoot me.” The flunky’s left hand swung up and around, grabbing for her pistol.
Val fired.
He fell back with a howl. She watched him hit the ground, her ears ringing from the gun’s rolling boom. Smoke curled around the weapon in her hand, smelling like the Fourth of July.
“Bitch bitch BITCH!” The gunman writhed on the pavement, one hand clamping high on his shoulder. She’d realized at the last second that she couldn’t kill him and aimed to wound. “You little whore! I’m going to shove that gun up your cunt and pull the trigger.” Rabid black eyes locked on hers, he struggled to rise.
Oh, hell. She hadn’t hurt him badly enough to stop him. And if Hirsch had put a compulsion on him… Staring into that beefy, deadly face, Val realized the only way to stop the gunman was to blow his brains out -- and she’d already learned she couldn’t do that. Cursing herself, she whirled and fled.
“You’d better run, bitch!” His feet scraped on the pavement as he staggered to his feet and started after her.
Putting her head down, Val poured on the speed. If she could get away from this bastard, she wouldn’t stop until she got to Beth.
Chapter Nine
When the gun fired, Cade glanced past Hirsch’s shoulder just in time to see a man fall as smoke boiled from a gun in Val’s hands. Cade recognized him: Giovani Casale, Ridgemont’s pet assassin.
Panic flared in Hirsch’s eyes as the German’s thoughts blasted out like a shout: That fool Casale has killed her. Hirsch threw an instinctive glance over his shoulder toward the scene behind him.
Cade kicked him in the face so hard a mortal’s head would have flown from his shoulders like a football off a tee. Hirsch went airborne, the axe whirling from his hand.
Jerking around, Cade saw Val running full out with the hitman at her heels. Damnit! There was no time to finish Hirsch. He had to get to Val before Casale caught her or the police showed up. Given that shot, it wouldn’t be long before half the law enforcement in Corrington poured into the motel parking lot.
He eyed Hirsch. The German lay on his back, out cold, his face a bloody ruin from the kick. Unfortunately, the damage was nowhere bad enough to kill a vampire. “We’ll finish this later, you bastard,” Cade muttered, and sprinted after his runaway captive.
He easily passed Casale, who staggered in Val’s wake like something out of T
he Night of the Living Dead, firmly in the grip of one of Hirsch’s compulsions. “Stop,” Cade snapped at the gunman, driving the words home with a psychic blast of his own. “Go to sleep!” He paused just long enough to make sure the assassin dropped, then lengthened his stride.
Even at full vampire speed, he had to work to catch Valerie. God, that girl could run. “Val, it’s okay!” he yelled. “Casale’s down! Come back!”
She stopped in her tracks and whipped around, bringing the gun up to point it right at between his eyes. “Back. Off.” She spat it, in two distinct words. “If you come any closer, I’ll blow a hole in you.”
Cade felt his jaw drop. Judging by her wide, desperate eyes, she meant every word.
* * *
Wanting only to get away from them all, Val stared into McKinnon’s handsome face. Her mind churned feverishly. A bullet wouldn’t hurt him permanently, but it would slow him down. While he was recovering, she could make a run for it.
The vampire looked stunned, as if unable to believe she’d actually consider shooting him. Unfortunately, he was too much a warrior to let the threat throw him for long. “You can’t kill a vampire that way,” McKinnon told her, in the elaborately reasonable voice of someone trying to talk a crazy woman down from a ledge.
“I don’t want to kill you,” Val said, keeping the gun pointed between those velvety dark eyes. He looked so big and broad standing there in the light of the streetlamp, a black T-shirt hugging his gorgeous chest, worn jeans making his legs seem a mile long. She dragged her attention away from his raw male beauty and steadied her aim. “I just want you to leave me alone. I’m going to get Beth and run.”
“That’d only put her in more danger, Val, even if you made it.” He took a slow pace toward her, his gaze focusing past the Smith & Wesson’s muzzle to meet hers. “And you wouldn’t. Ridgemont would have you before sunrise. I’m the only chance you’ve got.”
Forever Kisses Volume 1 Page 12
