Текст книги "One Immortal"
Автор книги: Tia Louise
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
We’re quiet a long time, neither of us eating. It seems appropriate—a moment of silence for the mortal broken by the immortal.
“Well, he left some kick-ass research behind,” Patrick finally says. “Why haven’t you shared any of it with me?”
Leave it to youth to be able to shake off the gravity of the situation. A small grin lifts the corner of my mouth. “Perhaps I grew a little disillusioned myself.”
“Bullshit,” he hisses. “You’re as focused as you’ve ever been.”
“Maybe I felt it was disrespectful.” Returning to my plate, I try and remember why I’d locked up Sloan’s notes. Patrick’s right. All those years of work should be in our shared arsenal, not my brain alone.
“When he quit, he was tracking a very powerful one,” my partner says. “Possibly the one we’re after.”
Alison’s murderer.
My sense of vengeance toward this particular killer roars like a bonfire in my chest. Patrick knows how important avenging her is to me. Her death was a personal attack, and I won’t rest until I answer it.
Placing my fork beside the elegant white china, I level my gaze on him. “Tell me what you’ve got.”
4
The Old One Derek
Lafayette Cemetery after hours is an eerie place. The tombs stand six feet above ground, coffins encased in either concrete or ancient red brick. The exteriors are decorated in scrollwork and statues, and they look like gothic cathedrals, their long shadows forming a striped, grey-and-black landscape for us to cross.
It’s no surprise vampire movies and television shows are often filmed here. The statues and headstones are a perfect setting for encounters with the supernatural. Even during daylight hours, the legion of crypts is a daunting site. So many dead are housed above ground in this city.
Growing up in the garden district, I’ve visited this location before, but never did I dream I’d be here on such an errand. Patrick has filled me in on what we’re after. The old one is a loner according to Sloan’s notes, and it lives here among the tombs when not traveling abroad.
We’re disguised as visitors, paying our respects to a fictitious dead relative. In addition to my jeans, black polo, and heavy boots concealing our sole weapon, I’m carrying a small bouquet of lilies.
At my side is a large bullmastiff with thick, muscular shoulders and an intimidating jaw. Patrick’s preferred form is a German shepherd, but we agreed size would help us more tonight.
His head is nearly at my chest as we walk. A heavy silver chain is around his neck, but it’s only for show. This oversized dog is not a pet.
It’s after eight, and the cemetery is officially closed. The sound of insects and running water fills the background. Otherwise, the air is tense, as if drawn and waiting. We walk the weedy path between the tombs, our eyes and ears alert for any change in our surroundings. We don’t have to wait long.
The swirl of a skirt catches my eye, and we both stop. A woman steps out from the side of a larger tomb. She’s smiling in a friendly way, but I can see the cruel lines around her mouth. Her lips are too red, and her skin is pale as bone. If we had more light, I would wager her brown eyes are in fact burgundy.
My partner’s fur bristles, and I’m on full alert. We came here not knowing if our target would be a male or a female, and while I’m pretty sure this isn’t an old one, we can never be too careful.
I’m amazed at the audacity of the immortal in this city. Sloan and I searched for nearly a year in New Jersey before we even found a hint of a vampire. I suppose we do live in the land of the Salem Witch Trials, while New Orleans is the land of voodoo and magic.
“You’re late to be visiting the cemetery.” Her voice is like the shattering of glass or several voices speaking at once. It’s unnerving. “Are you lost?”
The way her eyes roam my body, I can tell she’s hoping I’m lost. She’s hoping I’m an innocent. She’ll be sorely mistaken if she tries to attack me.
“I’m here on an errand.” My reply echoes among the crypts. Patrick’s body vibrates with a barely audible growl, and I place my hand on his head.
The thing’s eyes flicker down to him, and she takes another step forward. “Impressive dog.” Her hand stretches out as if to pet him, and his growl grows louder.
“Heel, Patrick.” I tug the chain at his neck sharply.
He responds with a stinging nip to the side of my hand, and I almost break character. I know how much he hates being treated like a pet.
“Sorry,” I take the opportunity to grin, hoping to throw her off-guard. “He’s usually very friendly. Especially with the ladies.”
Instead of coming straight toward us, she steps to the left, circling, watching. “What is your errand?”
I side step, copying her movements until my back is to a large, open vault. “My father asked me to tend the grave of his sister, my aunt. I just got off work, and I didn’t want to let him down.”
Patrick has moved to the side, still facing us but away from the path. The woman now walks straight to me, and without thinking, I step back. My boot hits the stone wall of a tall mausoleum, and internally I curse, realizing I’m cornered.
“You’re a very good boy,” she purrs, swaying slightly as she walks, not stopping until her body is directly in front of mine. Her seductive blend of vanilla and salt drifts lightly around us. They all have a unique odor.
“I’m not a boy,” I say. Patrick’s growl is low in the distance. “My dog is trained to attack, so I suggest you let me pass.”
She laughs like crystals being dropped one after another on ceramic tile. “Are you afraid of me?” Her eyes widen and she runs a narrow, ivory finger down my cheek, through my beard. “A big, strong man like you? With such thick muscles? Such a good red-blooded American male.”
Her voice sways with her movements as her eyes narrow. I can sense her glamour surrounding me, but it won’t work. It’s my sole defense against her dark arts. My immunity. Sloan and I discovered it working on our first case together. We have no clue how or why my mind is able to block it, and it’s a closely guarded secret.
“Such a beautiful man alone in the dark night.” Her voice is a heavy whisper, her lips full, and she presses her breasts against my chest. I pretend to be falling for her charms. “Would you like to fuck me?”
She says the words right at my lips, and I resist the urge to break her wrist as she slides a hand over the front of my jeans, over my cock. “Would you?”
A rustling noise scrapes against the stones overhead, and I look up fast—just in time to see another pale figure crawling like a lizard, headfirst toward me from the roof of the tomb. A hideous grin distorts his ghastly face, and his long fingernails clutch the cracks in the grey stones.
Shoving the woman back, I push away from the wall right as he reaches for my neck. Through my distraction, I catch the sound of snarling and growling mixed with hissing and champing of teeth, and I realize Patrick is fighting another one. We’ve inadvertently stumbled into a nest of them, and neither of us is prepared for this.
The thing crawling from the roof is now on its feet, and I can see by his ancient clothes and the tissue-quality of his skin he’s the one. He’s apparently made these young ones to protect him. Otherwise, vampires usually avoid living in groups.
“Call back your slaves,” I shout to the leader. “We’re only seeking information.”
“You don’t order me, boy.” His voice is a scratchy hiss. “You’re in my territory now.”
The hideous smile combined with his rows of sharp, pointed teeth and blood-red lips, makes him look like a sinister, white-haired clown. The woman beside him sways toward me, still smiling as if attempting to hypnotize me.
Patrick lets out a sharp yelp, and I glance fast to see a beefy male vampire has him by the throat. His mouth is open, and his enlarged canines have descended.
In one swift move, I drop to a knee, whipping out the small gun just as the woman lunges for me.
BLAST! BLAST! Her smile transforms into horror as the silver enters her body. Red eyes widen, and she falls back, screeching like a cat. The noise was enough distraction to put Patrick back on top, and he snaps his powerful jaws, throwing his attacker against a crypt opposite the path.
“Patrick, come!” I shout, and he immediately runs to my side. “Stay back!”
We’re slowly walking backwards out of the cemetery. I can only hope these two are his only guards.
The old one doesn’t move. His smile is gone, but he isn’t attacking. Instead, he goes still as a statue, watching us retreat. I have enough bullets if either of them tries to come after us, but he’s letting us go.
Before we round the final corner to safety, I see his eyes tracing, memorizing all my features, and I know this isn’t over.
Melissa
I’m lying on my side staring into the dark. I haven’t left the bed since we got back from Algiers this afternoon. Elaine has run to the drugstore on the corner, assuring me we’ll get dinner when she returns, but I can’t eat. My stomach aches with emptiness, and despair holds me down against the mattress. I’m unable to shake it off.
We’d taken the Canal Street ferry across the Mississippi River to Algiers Point this afternoon. We disembarked amid beautiful Victorian homes and historic shops. Our objective, however, was deeper in the West Bank community, where the streets were narrow, barely wide enough for one car to pass, and the homes were mostly wooden shotgun shacks.
The live oak trees were thick and low to the ground, and ivy and wisteria covered everything that didn’t move. As a result, the atmosphere was dark and heavy, and the noise of cicadas rose in a shrill screech above it all.
Demeter’s was a red-painted wooden home hidden back off the road under the shade of several trees. Elaine had parked at the curb and taken my hand.
“No matter what happens in here, I’m not giving up.” I knew she was trying to be encouraging, but her words filled me with dread.
A stone walk led to the house, and before we even knocked, the front door opened with a slow scrape. A dark screen kept us from being able to make out the person on the other side, but from the shaky sound of her voice, I knew it was Demeter.
“I saw y’all park at the street. Why you come to Mama Demeter’s house without calling? What you after?”
“I’m sorry, Mama.” Elaine leaned forward into the screen. “I’m Elaine Merritt. My friend Sabrina Hyatt gave me your name, but she said you don’t have a phone.”
“Don’t need a phone. I hear enough as it is.”
My friend went silent, her green eyes focused on the woman through the screen, and I waited. The woman’s posture stayed relaxed, as did my friend’s. A hint of a smile flickered across Elaine’s lips, but she quickly covered it.
I’d only seen Elaine communicate telepathically one other time, and it was equally disturbing then. It felt like I’d slipped into another dimension, or at the very least gone deaf.
All at once, the old woman’s eyes flashed to me, and she took a step away, further into the darkness of her old house. As if forgetting her power, Elaine suddenly spoke.
“No! You’re wrong! She isn’t like them. Every day she fights the change. We came all this way hoping you can help us.”
It was silent several moments as the old woman stayed in the shadows of her home. My heart beat wildly in my chest, and I could barely breathe. If she pulled out a gris-gris or commanded us to leave, I didn’t know where else we would go. Despair clutched tightly at my throat.
Just then a musical tinkling of bracelets met my ears. It seemed very loud, but I knew it was because of my vampire ears.
“Hello! What’s happening here?” A higher voice greeted us from behind, and Elaine and I both turned to see a slim girl coming up the walk.
Her skin was a lovely tan shade, and her long, chestnut hair hung thick down her back in shiny, wavy curls. She wore a flowing, red gypsy-style skirt and white tunic top, and when she smiled, her golden-hazel eyes glistened like the sunset. The treasured sunset I so desperately didn’t want to lose.
“Mariska!” Demeter’s voice was loud, moving quickly in our direction. “Come inside at once!”
The screen door flew open with a screech, and Elaine and I both stepped back. Mama Demeter was dressed in a navy tunic top with tribal designs on the front, and her dark hair was braided in two thick ropes down the sides of her head. I was shocked to find her not African. Her skin was the same warm Creole as Mariska’s.
“Why are you afraid, Yaya?” Mariska stopped and smiled at me. “These women aren’t here to hurt you.”
“Come inside, child” the old woman said, glancing at me. “Loogaroo.”
Mariska’s lips pressed together, and her golden eyes grew serious. “Yes,” she nodded. “I felt it. Only I wasn’t sure what it was.”
Reaching for my hand, she pulled me into the dark house. “Come with me. We’ll see what we can do.”
Elaine followed right behind me as did Demeter, and we were through the dim-lit living room and in the much brighter kitchen when I heard the screen door slam.
“If we mess with her, we invite a rain of evil down on us. Nothing can be done for Loogaroo.”
My heart sank at her words, but Mariska jumped in at once.
“You say that, Yaya, but have we ever tried?” She turned to me with a smile and took both my hands in hers. “Your aura is a beautiful indigo, although at times it tends to muddy.”
“I don’t know what that means.” For all my supernatural state of affairs, I was woefully ignorant of paranormal things.
Elaine stepped up behind me, putting her arm around my waist. “It means you’re afraid of the future.”
The tears that had been threatening all day, waiting for a reason, suddenly flooded my eyes, and my chin dropped. My shoulders shuddered, and I found three tissues handed to me at the same time.
“Now now,” Demeter said in her stern voice. “Mariska’s right. We haven’t tried to solve this problem before. In the past we’ve only looked for ways to repel or kill your kind.”
Her words did not give me comfort, but Mariska placed both her hands on my shoulders. “What is your name?”
Touching the tears away, I lifted my chin. “Melissa.”
“Don’t you worry, Melissa. I’m going to scour every book we have in this house, and if I can’t find an answer here, I’ll go down to Philome’s and see what she knows about the matter.”
“Pfft!” Demeter made a disgusted noise. “Philome don’t know anything. She’s a greedy, materialistic hack selling gris-gris to tourists in the Quarter.”
A grin crossed Elaine’s lips, and this time she didn’t cover it. “Thank you.” Her voice was warm as she took both of Mariska’s hands. “You’re going to help us find the answers, I can feel it.”
“I’ll do my best.” I watched as the two of them exchanged numbers and Elaine told her where we were staying.
Mariska followed us to the door of the cottage, and as she held the screen door open she touched my arm. “I won’t give up until I have an answer.”
“Thank you,” I said, and we left, headed back to the ferry.
For all their encouraging words, however, I couldn’t shake the dread that my life was truly over, that my maker’s words were right and my fate was sealed.
Now I’m lying here hours later, staring into the darkness. Only it isn’t terribly dark to my evolving eyes. One of the things I’ve noticed about my gradual transformation is my ability to go very still. I can think about the smallest thing until it consumes my focus. I’m not sure how long I can maintain it, because my friend hasn’t left my side since it happened. She refuses to let me spiral into the despair hovering at the edges of my brain.
“You have to get out of that bed!” She’s back, slamming drawers open and closed and jerking back the heavy curtains. “We’re not going to sit in this room and brood. We’re going out!”
“I don’t want to go out.” My limbs are as heavy as my voice, and the black thoughts have nearly consumed my mind. “I’m grieving.”
Pulling my arm, she pushes my feet off the bed, forcing me to sit up. Anger fires in my chest so fiercely, I feel my gums tingle, and I know my teeth are growing. Another new trait—my emotions turn on a dime.
“Leave me alone!” I shout, and she jumps back, stunned by the ferocity of my voice. I’m a little stunned myself. And ashamed.
My chin drops, and I calm the savagery smoldering inside me. “Please leave me alone, Elaine. You have no idea how difficult this is for me.”
She carefully moves to sit beside me on the bed, and I can tell she’s a little shaken by my sudden, violent response.
“Oh, Mel,” she speaks quietly, touching my arm. “You can’t give up. I won’t let you give up.”
“Didn’t you hear what they said?” My voice has switched from rage to intense sadness. “The old woman said there’s no cure, and if a voodoo queen says there’s no cure—”
“Then Mariska promised to find one.” Elaine’s voice is strong. “She’s going to do it, I can tell. I read her thoughts, and she’s passionate about helping you.”
The last bit is true, at least. I’d felt the intensity of the girl’s commitment. It confused me. “Why?” My voice is soft. “What makes her want to help me so much? She doesn’t even know me.”
Standing, Elaine goes to the closet and slides hangers across the brass bar. “She’s not psychic, but she has gifts. She could tell you had been forced against your will. Her sense of justice is incredible.”
“She’s very generous.”
Elaine turns to face me, and her shoulders drop. “If you could only see yourself. The reality of this hangs on you so cruelly. Still, you’re so clearly a good person.”
“I’m not so good,” I mutter. “Every day, I feel the evil growing inside me. Every day it’s harder to fight.”
“You can, and we will! We’re going to wait for Mariska, and in the meantime we’re going out. We’ll have drinks, laugh and dance, and then we’ll come back here and sleep.”
For a moment I think about her words. I weigh the options of lying in bed versus going out, forgetting these dismal circumstances for one more night. It can’t get any worse.
With a deep inhale, I find the strength in me to rise, to force a smile. “If you say so. I can’t sleep anyway.”
“That’s the spirit!” She pulls out a strapless, ruched-top dress made of thin rayon and hands it to me. “I’ll wear mine, and we’ll head over to Bourbon Street. Tomorrow will be a new day with new answers. I promise.”
I stand and take the dress, hoping with everything in me she’s right, yet at the same time, I hear his whispered laughter in my head.
Enjoy it while you can.
5
Tasting Derek
Patrick swears at his wounds while I nurse my scotch. “Fucking god damned motherfucking blood suckers.” I watch him wince as he binds the gaping slice of a vampire bite on his forearm. “Their saliva burns like acid.”
“You’ll be healed in less than an hour,” I mutter, sipping the amber liquid. “You’re lucky you’re immune. Nothing more to worry about.”
“You’re lucky you’re immune.”
“It isn’t the first time.” I take another pull off my glass of scotch. It’s taking longer than usual for me to calm down after a hunt. “I’m only immune to their hypnosis. If I hadn’t brought that gun…”
My partner’s lips press into a tight line. “We need Stuart here.”
I nod. I’d already thought of that. “He’ll be here tomorrow.” That’s how it is with Stuart and me. I call, he appears, and vice versa. “Did you have any idea what we were walking into?”
“Are you seriously asking me that right now?” Patrick isn’t one for sarcasm, and I only laugh.
“Then we really are a couple of lucky sons of bitches.”
“Damn straight.”
An icy chill passes down my spine at how wrong tonight could have gone. It isn’t often an unprepared vampire hunter and a weredog—even a young, strong shifter like Patrick—walk into a nest of vampires and make it out with only a scratch. I’m wrestling a mixture of fatigue, relief, and uncanny amusement.
“We are so fucking lucky.” I exhale, rubbing my hands over my face.
“Sazerac,” Patrick says to the bartender. We’re sitting at the bar in Razoo’s off Bourbon Street, and my partner is jumpy. I can’t stop drumming my fingers on the shiny wood in front of me.
“What exactly did you read in Sloan’s journal?” At this point it doesn’t really matter. Still, I’m curious, passing the time, waiting for us to come down. I can’t shake the image of that nightmarish clown-face, that grinning undead fucker coming down the wall at me headfirst like a giant fucking lizard. Shit.
“Nothing like what we encountered.” Patrick shakes his head, taking a sip of his cocktail. “Sloan’s notes said ‘an old one with answers’ lives in the crypt in Lafayette cemetery. It said if we went with flowers, played the role of gracious mourners, he’d talk to us.”
“Looks like he got bored with gracious mourners. Decided to turn a few.”
“No shit.”
Razoo’s is also a karaoke bar, and a young south Asian-looking woman approaching the mic draws my attention. She’s sexy with long, wavy black hair. I try to let her swaying and singing ease my mood, but it isn’t working. Her dark eyes only make me yearn for sapphire blue. I want Melissa. I want to burn off this excess energy in her arms.
“We should’ve stayed close tonight, done more research.” I should’ve been at Mr. B’s.
“That sounds like you’re second-guessing me.” Patrick’s itching for a fight, but I’m not interested.
“I’m not,” I answer honestly. “Just post-mortem.”
A group of drunken college kids stumble through the doors, laughing and adding to the crowd coming in off of Bourbon Street. It’s so late in the evening, I have no reason to believe anyone I’d want to see might come here. Melissa would be with her friend Elaine, most likely dining at Brennan’s or Galatoire’s, then heading back to her hotel to sleep, her beautiful dark waves spread out over her pillow.
“Fucking no way.” Patrick’s hiss cuts through my distraction. “It can’t be.”
Snapping to attention, I can’t help wondering if our friends are back. “What is it?”
He doesn’t answer, and I follow the line of his sight to the door. A beautiful blonde stands just inside, off the street. She seems a little lost, as if she’s looking for someone or trying to decide if she’ll stay.
I’m ready to guess she’ll leave, but her eyes move as if directed by an invisible guide directly to my partner.
I turn and look at him as well. His posture is as confident and strong as ever, but his expression is stunned. He’s trying to play it off, but something is happening to him.
“Do you know her?”
“No.” He looks down at the bar, his voice barely controlled.
“She’s headed in our direction.” Looking up, I see the confident smile on her lips. It’s as if she’s aware of her power over him. “You sure you’ve never—”
“It’s Patrick, right?” Her tone is happy, like she’s found something she lost.
My partner straightens, facing her, and though I’ve never seen it before, I know exactly what’s happening.
“Yes,” he says in a husky voice. “Elaine?”
“Yes!” Her green eyes sparkle, and she touches his arm. His entire body stills at her caress. “We were walking by, and I knew you were here.”
She laughs, but he only smiles.
Fuck me, Patrick’s imprinting. If I thought we needed Stuart before, we sure as hell need him now. I have no idea how finding his mate is going to impact his performance.
As much as I’ve wanted this to happen, it irritates the shit out of me it’s happening now, until I glance up toward the entrance and my entire body snaps to attention. She’s there, just outside the door, watching this woman with my partner. Her brow is lined in frustration, as if she can’t enter—or she doesn’t want to.
“Melissa…” The word is a whisper on my lips, and I’m on my feet.
Elaine and Patrick are talking. He’s turning on all the charm, and she’s falling for it hard—or maybe she’s already fallen for him, and all his charms are sweet icing on the cake. She sure walked into this bar and straight to him as if she knew full well the strange transformation happening in his mind.
None of it matters. I’m consumed by the discovery of Melissa. She sees me. Her sapphire eyes hold me, and a mixture of deep longing and cautious optimism moves through me.
I want her. I’ve wanted her all day. From this morning in the shower to every other minute of this long-assed day, I’ve thought about her luscious lips, her gorgeous breasts, her long legs wrapped around my waist. I’m at the door where she’s standing, keeping the glass between her and the bar as if it were a shield.
“Hello,” I say with a smile. “I’m really glad to see you again.”
Blinking down, she seems almost guilty when she answers. “I wasn’t able to be at Mr. B’s tonight. I’m sorry if you waited.”
She wasn’t there. The idea sends a wash of relief through me followed quickly by disappointment. I debate my next words.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’m really glad you’re here now.”
Her hand trembles a bit, and I can’t help wondering if I make her nervous. Is it possible this small, beautiful woman who holds my entire breath in her hands is nervous?
“Did you come here after dinner?” she says.
I decide to be honest. “I wasn’t at Mr. B’s tonight either.” Her eyes blink quickly to mine. “A job took me away from the city, and I couldn’t make it back in time. I’m so glad you weren’t there.”
“And what if I had been there?” The defiance in her tone fans my smoldering desire even hotter. She’s so fucking strong.
“I’d do everything in my power to earn your forgiveness.”
I’ve stepped outside, closer to her, and she inhales sharply. Her gorgeous eyes blink up to mine, and I want to taste her so badly my mouth waters. The scent of ocean-kissed roses, her scent floats around us. I want it all over me again.
She exhales a little sigh, glancing toward the bar. “Lucky for you, I’ve had a really shitty day. I’m in a forgiving mood.”
“I had no idea it was going to be such a lucky day for me.”
A hint of a smile crosses her lips, and I want to gather her in my arms and love the shittiness away. Lifting my finger, I lightly trace a line up the smooth skin of her arm to her shoulder, and she shivers. Her breathing shallows, and it’s almost too much for me. I mentally calculate how far we are from Pirate’s Alley. The Royal Sonesta is closer.
“Let’s go to my hotel.”
Her eyebrows pull together. “You want to—”
“Spend the night with you.” I reach for her hand. “Yes, I want to spend the night with you… like before.”
Shaking her head, she moves out of my reach. “I’m sorry. I don’t do the walk of shame.”
“I would never let you walk home alone.”
Her back is to the glass doors and she seems to consider my offer. I take a chance, rubbing my hand across my chin. “A bed would be more comfortable, and I would do anything to see your gorgeous body spread across my sheets.”
She blinks up at me through her lashes, and desire spikes in my veins. I know she remembers last night. I glance quickly back in the bar to see Patrick dirty-dancing behind Elaine. She’s smiling with her blonde head thrown back on his shoulder, and from the looks of things, they’ll be in a bed together before long.
Closing the distance between us, I speak softly, right at her temple. “Can I have you tonight. Please?”
Only a brief hesitation, and she whispers, “Yes.”
Relief mixes with desire and urgency as I take her hand. We’re only steps from our own heaven, and I plan to spend all night with her there.
Melissa
Maybe it’s because I have nothing left to lose, or maybe it’s because nothing can really hurt me anymore—at least no more than I’ve already been hurt. Most likely, it’s because Derek is so damned determined and delicious… and sexy. As soon as I saw him in the bar, my teeth ached. Everything we did in the alley flooded my mind, and I flushed with need to have him again.
None of that matters. I don’t need justification anymore. I want him, and he wants me. The half-block to his hotel passes in a haze of anticipation. My skin is on fire, and my breath comes in little pants. Above the corner entrance, the word Desire is lit up in vaudeville lights, and it makes me want to laugh. After everything that happened today, all the disappointment, I can’t believe I might even consider laughter, but this man changes everything.
We cross the marble-tiled lobby straight into an open elevator. It’s empty except for us, and Derek presses the number four repeatedly.
Close, doors… Close! Anticipation buzzes in my chest, until they finally start to move. They barely touch when he has me against the wall, pinned by his huge physique.
“God, you’re so beautiful.” His breath is a hot whisper across my cheek just before he claims my mouth, forcing my lips to part and finding my tongue with his.
A little whimper aches in my throat, and he lifts me against the shiny, wood-paneled wall. Breaking apart, his lips move down my jaw, velvet followed by scratchy beard. Another moan. My lust for him is at an epic height.
He lifts his head and our eyes meet. “I want to taste you.”
“Okay.” My voice trembles.
I’m thinking the same thing, when all at once the box we’re in stops. The doors open, and he looks over his shoulder. We’re on his floor.
He gives me a little wink. “Hold that thought.”
In a flash we’re out, headed down a narrow hallway. He swipes the door card, it emits a little tweet, and we push inside the room. I barely have a chance to notice the gold walls, marble-topped coffee table, or wood and brass accents of his suite before he’s got me in his arms.
My hands rest on his chest, and heat flames through my core with every heartbeat. My eyes travel up, up, up, to his blue ones now darkened with desire, and I know he’s remembering the same things as me—how fantastically our bodies came together only twenty-four hours ago. It seems like a lifetime after this day.
“When I saw you tonight… I couldn’t stay away.”
I smooth my palms over his shoulders, down his rounded biceps. He cups my cheeks, studying my hair, my chin, my lips, as if memorizing every part of me. It’s incredibly seductive, and I almost can’t bear the anticipation.
He gently kisses my brow, and my eyes flutter shut. “When I realized I wouldn’t make it back tonight, I was sure I’d lost you.” He traces a fiery line across the bridge of my nose to my other brow. “Why did you stay in the street? Were you feeling sick?”
“No,” I manage, despite the thickness in my throat. “I… I didn’t want to go inside.”
