by Lynsay Sands
“I don’t know,” Zanipolo admitted, watching Jess too, but his expression was troubled now.
“She had a blank spot,” Santo announced, running one hand over his bald head with worry.
Raffaele stiffened and glanced to his cousins with concern. “Like someone erased her memory of what she saw?” he asked sharply.
“That would be my guess,” Santo admitted grimly.
“Mine too,” Zanipolo admitted.
“Then it was probably those pirates,” Raffaele said, turning his concerned gaze back to Jess.
“Probably,” Santo agreed.
“I feel ridiculous calling them pirates. They’re just damned rogues,” Zanipolo pointed out with irritation.
“But we can’t risk slipping up and calling them that in front of Jess,” Raffaele pointed out.
“True,” Zanipolo muttered with a sigh, and then shook his head. “Pirates, for God’s sake. The guy on the bus was even dressed as one, and so were the ones in Jess’s memories.”
“It’s for the tourists, probably lures them in in droves,” Raffaele pointed out grimly, and then shook his head and said, “I don’t get why they brought them back.”
“The tourists?” Santo asked.
Raffaele nodded. “Most rogues turn, kill, or torture their victims. They don’t just feed on them and send them home, or back to their hotel, like these guys did.”
“It is unusual,” Santo agreed thoughtfully.
“The one on the bus said—”
“Phew! For a minute there I didn’t think he was going to give me a new key card.”
Raffaele snapped his mouth shut mid-sentence and turned at those words from Jess as she approached them. Raising his eyebrows, he asked, “He was difficult?”
“I’ll say,” she said with a snort. “He kept saying I needed ID or Allison to verify I was me, that I could be anyone. And then he just suddenly changed his tune and couldn’t get me the card quickly enough. Guess he was tired of me begging,” she said cheerfully.
Raffaele turned to Santo and Zanipolo in question, but both men shook their heads. Neither of them had controlled the man at the desk and made him give Jess a new key. Mouth tightening, Raffaele peered around the lobby and then out the front windows and back, looking for any sign of the pirates. But he didn’t see the man he’d encountered by the bus, or anyone else who looked like a pirate.
“Wow! That Long Island Iced Tea is kicking my butt,” Jess said now, regaining his attention to see that she’d placed a hand on the back of the sofa next to them to steady herself. “It’s really starting to hit now. I should probably get back to my room while I can still walk straight.”
“We’ll escort you,” Raffaele said quietly, taking her arm, but urging her toward the front door of the lobby, rather than the door overlooking the steps. He didn’t trust her to be able to negotiate the steps in her state.
“So, you really think it is a good idea to let her stay in her room tonight?” Zanipolo asked as they made their way out of the building and walked under the porte cochere.
“Oh, I’m good,” Jess assured him. “It doesn’t matter if the vampirates have my original key card—it doesn’t have the room number on it. Besides, I probably won’t sleep anyway. I have to pack and make phone calls and stuff.”
When Zanipolo continued to look at him, Raffaele merely shook his head. He had no intention of leaving Jess by herself. He would help her pack her things, gather what she needed, and then try to convince her to come back to their room to wait until dawn. If that didn’t work, he’d stand guard outside the door to her room if necessary. He fully intended on sticking to her like glue until he had her safely on a plane out of Punta Cana.
“God, this place is sooo hot,” Jess complained suddenly, tugging fretfully at the collar of her borrowed shirt/dress as they started around the corner of the building and headed down the slanted path.
Raffaele grunted an agreement. The heat and humidity here were a bit extreme this time of year.
“We shoulda gone the other way,” Jess said now. “Then we coulda jumped in the pool on the way back and could could off.” Frowning, she shook her head. “Could could off. Could . . . cool . . . off,” she enunciated slowly and carefully, and then relaxed and grinned. “That’s it.”
Raffaele eyed her with concern. He had no idea how long it usually took for the effects of alcohol to hit a mortal, but he was guessing it had only been twenty minutes or so since she’d downed the iced tea. Of course, she’d had two glasses of wine before that. Still, he was quite sure her inebriation was going to get worse.
Jess suddenly pulled on the hold he had on her arm. She wasn’t trying to break free of him, he saw with relief. She was simply starting to weave a good deal on the downward slope.
“I think we should ger our swimsuits and gofer aswim,” she slurred now, tugging again at the collar of Santo’s shirt, and then stopping and tipping her head down to try to see to undo the top buttons.
“Let me help you,” Raffaele said patiently.
“Oh, tank you,” Jess muttered, lifting her head to beam at him. “You’re so nice. And cute too. You’re a cuuuutie. And you don’ have greasy hair. That’s nice.”
Raffaele had no idea what the hell she was talking about with the greasy hair business, but he liked hearing she thought him cute. Still, he didn’t fiddle with her buttons, but instead simply scooped her up and began to hurry along the path, moving at a speed his people generally didn’t use in the open where they might be seen. He needed to get her to her room and have her help him gather everything before the full impact of the alcohol hit and she was unable to help. He had no idea what she’d brought with her, and didn’t want her forgetting something important.
“Oh.” Jess peered around wide-eyed when they reached the building and he began running up the stairs. “You’re fast.”
Raffaele grunted in response. What could he say?
“Which room are you in?” he asked as he hurried out of the stairwell and started up the hall with Santo and Zanipolo on his heels.
“Room 406,” she answered and then grinned. “Right above yours.”
“Yes,” Raffaele agreed with surprise.
“Jeez, it’s like it was fate,” Zanipolo said with wonder behind them.
Raffaele ignored him. As they neared the room, he asked, “Do you have your new key card?”
“Oh.” She looked concerned for a minute and then noticed it in her hand and held it up triumphantly. “Yes.”
“Good. Run it over the security pad,” he suggested as he stopped, and Jess did as instructed. She even managed to do it right the first time.
The moment the green light flashed and a click sounded, Santo reached past them to open the door.
“Thanks,” Raffaele muttered as he carried Jess inside.
“Is Allison here?” Jess asked, craning her head to look toward the bedroom as Raffaele carried her into the sitting room.
Pausing, he hesitated, and then turned to carry her into the bedroom. His gaze slid over the two double beds in the room and then to the open bathroom door. “No. Sorry.”
“Thass okay, she’d just be all bitchy and mean anyway. She’s a mean mean meanie,” Jess told him solemnly.
“Yes, she is,” Zanipolo agreed with amusement from behind them as Raffaele set Jess on her feet. “But you’re adorable.”
Ignoring him, Raffaele clasped Jess by the upper arms until she turned her attention to him and then asked, “Do you remember the combination to your room safe?”
“Oh. Yes.” She nodded. “It’s 2–2–2–2 ’cause there are two of us and Allison couldn’t remember anything else.”
“Okay,” he said with amusement. “Well, then, why don’t you go get your passport and stuff out of the safe, change your clothes, and then pack your bags. We’ll wait for you in the sitting room. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said agreeably, and staggered to the closet where the room safes were situated in this resort.
&
nbsp; Raffaele watched her for a minute as she began to punch numbers, and then turned and moved out to the sitting room.
“Wow,” Zanipolo murmured as he followed him into the sitting room. “That iced tea is hitting her hard. She really doesn’t hold her liquor well.” When Raffaele glanced at him with a questioning frown, he shrugged and pointed out, “She only had two glasses of wine and the Long Island. The girls who follow the band could handle twice that easy and just be relaxed.”
“The women who follow the band drink like fish,” Raffaele said dryly. “No doubt they have a higher tolerance.”
“Yeah, but Jess works in a bar,” Zanipolo pointed out. “You’d think she’d have a higher tolerance too.”
“Why? Because she absorbs the alcohol through osmosis while pouring drinks for customers?” he asked sarcastically, a little miffed at what he saw as criticism of his mate. He liked that Jess had a lower tolerance. It proved she hadn’t used alcohol as a crutch to help her get beyond the tragedies of her past.
Zanipolo opened his mouth to respond, and then his eyes slid past him and widened incredulously before he said, “I think I just saw someone go over the balcony rail.”
Raffaele started to turn to look, but then froze as Jess screamed from the next room. Cursing, he turned toward the double doors just as she shrieked again. Leaving Santo and Zanipolo to deal with the Peeping Tom on the balcony, he hurried in to the bedroom.
Eight
Jess leaned against the balcony railing and sighed. A cool breeze was brushing across her face and naked shoulders and playing with the hem of her strapless dress, flapping it lightly around her legs almost in time to the music drifting up from the restaurant on the beach. Smiling, she lifted her face to the night sky, simply enjoying the breeze and the scent of tropical flowers drifting to her.
“Jess?”
She glanced over her shoulder, and it seemed perfectly natural for Raffaele to be there. Jess offered him a smile and then turned to peer out over the lights of the resort and the beach and water beyond.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it,” she said softly as his hands settled on her shoulders.
“Beautiful,” he agreed, letting his hands slide off her shoulders and down her arms. “Perfect.”
“Perfect,” she agreed as he pressed a kiss to the spot where his hand had been a moment ago.
Jess closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly as his lips traveled toward her neck, trailing kisses along the way.
“I’ve waited forever for a night like this,” he whispered, brushing her hair aside so that his lips could travel up her neck to her ear. “For you.”
“For me,” she almost moaned breathlessly as he nibbled her ear, and then his hand came around to clasp her chin and he turned her head up and back so that he could kiss her. Jess sighed as his mouth covered hers, and then slid her hand up and back to encircle his neck as they kissed, her mouth clinging to his and her body arching and pressing back against him.
When his hand dropped from her chin to glide lightly down into the valley between her breasts, Jess gasped into his mouth, her back arching harder, offering herself to him.
“I want you,” he growled against her mouth.
“Yes,” Jess moaned, reaching her free hand back to clasp his hip and pull him closer as both of his hands covered her breasts. When he began to knead the soft globes through the light cotton of her dress, Jess groaned and thrust her bottom backward, rubbing herself against the hardness she could feel growing there.
“Jesus, Jess,” Raffaele groaned, one hand dropping down to slide between her legs.
“Raffaele,” she gasped, clutching at his arm. “Please.”
Covering her mouth again, he kissed her deeply, his tongue invading and exploring as his hand slid under the skirt of her dress to creep up to her panties. Easing them aside, he slid his fingers across her damp skin, his mouth catching her startled gasp of pleasure as she jerked and shuddered in his arms. But then he broke their kiss to growl, “Spread your legs a little.”
Jess obeyed at once, easing her stance, giving him more room, and then cried out as his fingers slid between her folds, and found the nub of her excitement.
“So wet,” he groaned, beginning to run his fingers around that nub in circles.
“Please,” Jess gasped, her fingers clutching at his hip almost desperately.
“Please what, my love? Tell me what you want.” His voice was a deep rumble she could feel in her very core, and Jess shook her head, unable to give voice to what she needed. Instead, she released her hold on his arm and reached back to search for the hardness behind her. Finding the bulge in his dress pants, she squeezed gently and then rubbed her hand over it.
Raffaele stiffened and groaned, and then suddenly removed the hand at her breast. She never felt him undo her dress, but when it suddenly fell away, Jess was left standing in high heels and white lace panties, and then he spun her around, caught her by the waist, and lifted her to sit on the railing so that he could feast on her breasts.
Groaning, Jess caught his head in her hands, her fingers curling in his short soft hair and holding on as he laved and suckled at first one breast and then the other, until Jess shook her head helplessly and cried, “Raffaele, please,” again.
Growling, he urged her legs around his hips and scooped her off the railing to carry her to the built-in, cushioned bed-sized bench seat against one wall of the balcony. Kneeling in front of it, he set her to sit on the end, and then urged her to lie back with one hand on her chest. Jess fell back, and bit her lip as she watched him tug her panties off.
Meeting her gaze, Raffaele watched her face as he ran his hands up the insides of her legs, urging them wider open. One hand stopped halfway up, but the other continued and found her core again and Jess gasped, her back arching and legs trying instinctively to close as he began to caress her.
“What do you want?” Raffaele asked again as he caressed her.
“You,” she gasped breathlessly, grabbing at the cushion to try to ground herself, and then a startled scream slid from her lips when he bent and replaced his hand with his mouth. Jess stared up at the night sky overhead, a long ululating sound slipping from her lips as he devoured her, his mouth doing things she’d never experienced, and pulling pleasure she hadn’t known possible from her body as he paid attention to every inch of her sensitive skin there. When her release came, it was so fast and hard Jess lost it for a minute. Her body was quaking and convulsing, her head thrashing, and her breath coming in sobbing gasps, and then he slid into her, hard and swollen and filling her to capacity, and her orgasm began all over again.
Crying his name, Jess sat up abruptly and clutched at his shoulders as he thrust into her, holding on for dear life until he thrust one last time and threw his head back with a roar of pleasure.
Shifting sleepily, Jess reached instinctively for Raffaele, but found the built-in lounge mattress empty beside her. Frowning, she opened her eyes to bright sunlight, and quickly closed them again on a groan as her head began to pound. God, she felt like complete and utter crap! She must have overdone the drinking last night, but . . .
Jess stilled suddenly and opened her eyes again, doing so slowly this time to allow her eyes to adjust to the bright daylight, and then sighed as she saw that she wasn’t out on the balcony, but on the pull-out couch in the sitting room. She glanced down at the blue shirt she still wore, and then turned her head and spotted Raffaele shifting sleepily in the overstuffed chair next to the couch, and turned her head unhappily away. She was in Room 306, the suite Raffaele shared with Santo and Zanipolo.
It had all been a dream. That lovely, hot episode on the balcony had just been a damned wet dream. It seemed her sudden spate of horniness had followed her into sleep. Sighing, she closed her eyes as the memory of what had really happened last night moved across her mind and she recalled that everything was gone.
The alcohol had really started to affect Jess by the time they’d reached her room and she’
d had to enter the combination to the safe three times to get the damned thing open . . . then it was only to find all of her belongings gone. Allison’s things had still been there, but Jess’s passport, wallet, and even her return ticket for the flight home were gone. She’d shrieked in dismay and horror when she’d made that discovery, and then shrieked again as she noted that all her clothes, and even her suitcase, had been removed from the closet as well.
Not only could she not fly out today, but Jess didn’t have a single stitch of clothing other than the borrowed shirt she still wore.
Well, she supposed she had the torn T-shirt and the bikini, Jess thought on a sigh. Yay.
It had to be Vasco, of course . . . or Cristo, or one of his other vampirates. It just had to be connected to him. If it had been a straight-out theft, Allison’s things would have been taken as well, and Jess’s clothes would have been left behind. It wasn’t like they were designer or anything. Allison had more expensive clothes that she’d badgered her father into buying her, but Jess bought hers at Walmart, for Pete’s sake.
No, it was Vasco. He was trying to prevent her leaving. Although she had no idea how he knew of her plan to flee.
Jess barely had that thought when she recalled Cristo telling Vasco her name without her mentioning it, and his asking Vasco if he had tried to read her. That must be another vampire trick they had. Besides controlling people, they must be able to read their minds, she thought. And Cristo must have read her plans to fly out today from her mind when he’d tried to force her onto the bus. He’d taken that news back to Vasco, and they’d set out to make sure it didn’t happen.
Dear God, they had her trapped here! At least temporarily, Jess added with a frown. Surely, she could get a replacement passport from the American embassy here? Was there an American embassy in Punta Cana? God, she hoped it wasn’t in some other city in the Dominican like Puerto Plata or somewhere else way far away. She didn’t have any damned money to get to Puerto Plata, or any other Dominican city, really. Or for a flight home now that her credit cards were gone. She’d have to borrow that, as well as clothes and . . . She had no idea what she’d have to do to get a replacement passport.