by Caris Roane
She saw Vaughn’s lips curve. Then his face left her line of sight. She reached for his tank, wanting to pull him back, but her arm wasn’t working right. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere. I’m right here.”
When he floated back into her field of vision, this time she made a concerted effort to grab his shirt. She succeeded and pulled him closer. “Vaughn, I want you. I’ve wanted you bad since you took me on your couch. Do you know that I started volunteering for any Trib assignment that would take me to Crescent? I wanted to see your face again. Your body. Oh, God, your body. You are so built. Did I ever tell you that?”
She tried to pull him down to her, but he gently took her hand and unwrapped it from around his shirt. “You’re drugged out, sweetheart.”
“But I know what I’m saying. I want you.” What she didn’t know was why she was pelting him with her lust. “Sorry. You’re right. I’m not myself.”
“It’s okay. I have a confession to make as well. I’ve spied on you. I’d make any excuse to go to the Trib. I saw you a few times.”
She laughed. Everything seemed so funny. “I love that you’ve been watching me. Now I don’t feel like such a dork. Maybe we’re both dorks.”
“Maybe we are.” Was he chuckling as well?
“You’re not. I am, but you’re not. You’re a man. A real man. I respect the hell out of you, Vaughn. I need you to know that, even if my head is swimming right now.”
She remembered that something else needed doing. “Wrap up my leg with that other thing.” Her hand flopped as though all on its own toward the basket.
Her mind flowed in and out now, but she could feel him working on her leg.
The next thing she knew she was falling into something soft. Oh, her bed. Not falling. Vaughn was settling her on the sheets. She turned on her side and slid her hands beneath her cheek. Warmth flowed over her. Maybe he’d covered her up.
Once more, she felt lovely soft fingers on her face.
“Vaughn?”
“Sleep for a bit.”
“I will.”
Then she was gone.
~ ~ ~
Once Emma drifted off, Vaughn headed to the bathroom. He put the basket back where he’d found it, then cleaned up the blood from the floor all the way to the distant side door.
With Emma out cold because of her gunshot wound concoction, he needed to take care of his own issue. He hadn’t gotten hurt, but Emma’s blood had gotten on his leathers and his boots. He didn’t have a pleasant smell, either, something like fear and death combined with a whole lot of lust thrown into the mix.
She’d said she wanted him bad. He felt the same way about her and it hadn’t helped to take her pants off and see a sheer-as-hell violet thong barely covering her sex.
He removed his Glock and holster, setting it on the bathroom sink. He then stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the oversized shower. It felt good to soap up and rinse off.
Something had changed for him in the past hour since he’d taken care of Emma then put her to bed. It had all felt so normal, like they were a couple, and it had left him feeling shaky. Or hell, maybe it was the adrenaline.
He didn’t get what was going on with him because he usually didn’t give a shit whether he lived or died.
Yet right now he did.
As he shut the water off, he pulled a towel from the nearby bar and dried his hair. Wiping down his body, he glanced at his cock. Here was the main problem. The damn thing was half-swollen with desire for the woman lying partially clothed in her bed.
When she’d downed the vial of her witch-remedy pain-killer and began healing at lightning speed, he’d started to relax. Her wound and all the blood that had soaked her jeans had driven straight through his heart. He didn’t want her hurt, and he really didn’t want her dead.
And because the balm had done its work so quickly, he’d become acutely aware of her long, bare legs, beautiful skin and how much he wanted her.
He glanced down again. He’d stopped toweling, but the turn of his thoughts had brought his cock to full attention. He took it in hand and his breathing grew rough. Thoughts of Emma and her thong filled his head once more. He almost started stroking, but decided he’d better get himself settled down. He had more important things to do than to fire one off.
He wrapped a second towel around his hips, though it took a full minute before the terry cloth lay flat against his body.
He glanced at his blood-stained, sweaty clothes. He’d have to put them back on eventually, but not right now. Maybe later, after the drug Emma had taken wore off. For now, he’d stay in a cleaned up state especially since he was in her home.
The woman had money and beautiful things. Even the carpet had a deep plush feel as he moved back into the bedroom.
Unfortunately for his ever-present desire for the witch, Emma had thrown the comforter off her, then rolled onto her back, legs spread, her arms over her head. Most of her abdomen was exposed.
His gaze followed her curves. She had an unusually narrow waist and he wondered if his hands would fit her all the way around. Once more his gaze fell to the sight of her sex behind a thin violet veil. A narrow strip of auburn hair made his jaw tremble.
He licked his lips and just like that his other problem returned, pushing once more against the towel around his waist.
Tearing his gaze away from her, he moved into a large adjacent dressing room. From the phone conversations, he’d learned that Emma had entered Five Bridges with a trust fund. Her home was large and well-maintained, though he knew for a fact that at least three cartel lieutenants lived in her upscale neighborhood.
But that was life in their world. Gainful employment was hard to come by since the sex and drug trade dominated the economy.
That she’d chosen to serve as a TPS officer without pay was one of the reasons he admired her. She served because she wanted more than anything to help make their world a decent place to live.
He moved toward a large upholstered bench in the center of the room. He was about to sit down, when an unexpected array of clothes hit him hard. The side of the closet he faced held a row of clothing that belonged to a man. A big man. Someone his size.
Emma hadn’t said anything to him about having someone in her life, though he’d heard a rumor that she’d once taken up with a shifter. At the time, he’d thought it disgusting. He didn’t believe the species should ever mix. However, since their tryst two months ago, he’d been having serious doubts about his beliefs.
But what did it mean she had a man’s clothes in her closet? Did they belong to the rumored shifter from Savage Territory?
He sat down on the bench, staring up at the jeans and shirts. There were even a couple pairs of boots below. The man had big feet to match his body, just like Vaughn.
Blood once more pounded in his head, but this time for a different reason. He was jealous as hell.
~ ~ ~
Emma woke up to fingers patting her face. She pushed them away repeatedly, but to no effect. Finally, she was able to open her eyes.
The ghost-girls moved swiftly away from her to hover near the door to her dressing room and seemed to be having a joke at her expense. They were all grinning like crazy. She could tell they were laughing as well, though the sound she heard wasn’t the same as the living would have made.
Seeing that she was partially uncovered, she whipped the comforter over her body. She really didn’t want Vaughn to see her like this.
She glanced around, but he wasn’t in the room. Her bedroom formed the east wing of her home and faced into a large, well-landscaped courtyard. The overall property was a good half-acre and contained over two dozen trees. Because the bed faced into the yard, she could see Vaughn wasn’t there, either.
She loved her home. It had been a blessing for the past seven years. She’d been consigned to Five Bridges because an alter witch-serum had made its way into a bowl of punch at a party. At least three people had died that night, unable to hand
le the alter process. She’d survived and after a period of adjustment, she’d made it her mission to create an oasis in her new world.
She watched the ghosts fly acrobatically around the room, learning their new skills. After a moment, they lined up once more outside her large walk-in closet. She aimed her telepathy toward the girl in the blue jeans. Let me guess. Vaughn’s in my dressing room?
The girl nodded and smiled. He is.
What’s your name?
Becca. Her smile broadened into a grin. We’re glad you’re feeling better. My sisters and I think you might need some privacy, though, so we’re going to explore Five Bridges. We’ll be back in about an hour.
Wait. Are you saying you have a sense of time as a ghost?
Sure. Her brows rose, then she chuckled. And we can read clocks, too. She inclined her head in the direction of Emma’s dresser and her antique Tambour.
Well, see ya later. Becca gestured for her sisters to follow and the ghosts suddenly vanished.
Emma threw the comforter back and glanced down at her bare legs and one of her favorite but oh-so-sheer thongs. It was a lovely violet color and showed off her landing strip.
Her cheeks suddenly warmed up. Vaughn had removed her pants, so of course he’d seen her like this. At least she was still wearing her t-shirt and hadn’t been completely exposed.
Memories rushed back of the things she’d said to him, about wanting him.
She covered her face with both hands. Oh, God, her spelled medicine had really loosened her tongue.
Well, she couldn’t undo what had already been done. She left the bed, then headed to the bathroom. She had dried blood all down her leg and the injury had left an odd smell on her skin. She brushed out her hair, debating whether to wash it as well, but she wasn’t sure what the rest of the night would hold. Drying her hair was a long process.
Deciding not to wash it, she wrapped her hair up in a towel, then stepped into the shower. As thoughts of Vaughn filled her head, she took her time soaping up. She was fully healed and alone with him in her house. A shiver raced through her. Would he want to be with her again? Because right now, the only thing she could think about was a repeat of the couch experience.
All a girl could do was ask.
After drying off, she pulled the towel from her head, wrapped her body in another one, then headed to her dressing room.
Once at the threshold, she pushed the door open. She was surprised to find Vaughn sitting on the bench, elbows on knees, head in hands. He wore only a towel wrapped around his waist.
She stayed where she was and watched him for a long moment. He was facing Max’s clothes, the shifter she’d loved and lost a few years ago. She hadn’t told Vaughn about him yet. She’d been waiting for the right moment, but it had never come. Now he’d seen the clothes. He also had no framework for knowing who they belonged to or why they were still here.
She could feel the weight of Vaughn’s emotions as well. She knew he’d lost his sister several years ago. Her name was Beth, the only family Vaughn had, and she’d become a vampire at the same time as Vaughn.
But one night, a large group of lowlife vampires had abducted her right outside Vaughn’s home while he watched, then carted her off to another territory. He’d never found her, though he’d spent at least two years trying.
He’d only mentioned it once on the phone, but she’d felt it then as well. The loss of his sister had changed Vaughn, taken him to a dark place from which he’d never fully returned. He’d told Emma repeatedly that he never dated and had no interest in forming a permanent connection to anyone. Five Bridges was a violent place, and he’d been unable to protect his sister. With death always right around the corner, he didn’t want to be responsible for another person ever again.
She could relate to his sense of despair and needing to keep his distance.
Shifting her gaze to Max’s clothes, tears touched her eyes. Max had barely moved in when he’d been ambushed and killed on his return to Savage Territory. She’d known nothing about it until two nights later when one of Max’s friends had called her to let her know. Despair had hit her hard. From that time, she’d sworn off men, sex and dating, just like Vaughn.
Then Vaughn had shown up and the sex they’d shared as well as all these weeks of talking back and forth on the phone had worn down her resistance. She didn’t even care that he was a vampire. For that reason alone, she should have shunned him.
Instead, she stood near him in her dressing room and had no plans at all to get dressed, having something else entirely on her mind.
First, though, she needed to tell him about Max. “I see you’ve found my secret.”
He sat up and turned in her direction. “I thought you’d be out for hours.” How she loved his deep voice.
She shook her head. “The potion was designed to be quick-acting and fast-leaving.” She crossed to Max’s clothes, but half-turned toward Vaughn. “You been wondering about these?”
“Yeah, I was.” His gray eyes had a pinched look.
“A few years ago, I dated one of the alphas of Savage Territory. I was madly in love with him and thought we’d be together forever. I suppose I should have gotten rid of these a long time ago.” She ran her hand over the sleeves of the shirts, one after the other. She’d said good-bye many times and in many different ways. This felt like another farewell coupled with a poignant jolt of grief.
“What happened to him?”
She took hold of the sleeve of the shirt closest to her and couldn’t seem to let go. “We’d just moved in together. We’d done the unforgivable as in a shifter, especially an alpha, getting involved with a witch. He was ambushed one night shortly after crossing the main bridge back to Savage. Someone shot him in the back of the head.”
“Because of you?”
“I think I made a good excuse.”
“And I take it the culprit was never found.”
“No.” She huffed a sigh. “But I had my suspicions. Max had a powerful challenger in his pack, a real brute by the name of Dagen.” She shuddered. “I hated Dagen from the moment I met him. He came onto me every time Max’s back was turned.”
“Dagen. The name sounds familiar. Right. I met him a couple of times after Beth died. I’d been searching for her and more than once the path of her abduction led to him, but then stopped dead. He had a real stench about him as I recall.”
“He has powerful connections to the cartels.”
“Figures. So, you think he killed Max?”
“Dagen would never have challenged Max to a straight-up dominance fight because Max would have whipped him in a pit-battle.” The shifter territories had sand pits in various parts of Savage to serve as a staging area for a pack challenge.
“You miss him?”
“Everyday. And I’m sorry I never told you about him before now. I just couldn’t. I mean, maybe the way he died made it worse. I hated that there was no justice for him. Then Dagen took over the pack. They’ve all suffered since.”
She tilted her head. “The funny thing is, I promised myself I’d never date a shifter again, and I haven’t.” She smiled ruefully. “But it seems I have trouble being interested in my own alter species. Now here you are, a vampire, with a towel around your waist in my dressing room.” The air grew electric. “And what I said to you in the bathroom? I’m embarrassed, but it was the truth.”
He rose to his feet and drew close. He gently took her arms in his hands. “Em, we almost died out there in the Graveyard. That’s what I’ve been thinking about.”
“Uh-huh.”
His eyes were low on his lids, and she was pretty sure his towel wasn’t fitting him as well as it had been a moment ago.
“We don’t have to date, Vaughn. I don’t think either of us really wants that. But it’s been a lonely stretch since Max died and I want to be with you.”
“How long has it been?”
“Five years.”
“Shit.” His voice had dropped several timbres.
>
“I’ll tell you what went through my head when you launched us into the air. It was the dumbest thing, but I thought I’d be dead soon. And the thought of never getting to have sex with you again really pissed me off. Yet here you are.”
“But are you sure you want to do this?”
“Oh, hell, yeah, I’m sure. I’ve already told you how I feel. I respect you and if this had been a different world I would have shown up quite magically at the restaurants you liked to go to, that sort of thing.”
He frowned. “Do women do that?”
“If we didn’t, no man would ever find a wife.”
His lips actually curved. “You’re probably right.” He reached down and untucked his towel, letting it fall to the floor.
She drew in a deep slow breath, then took a moment to look him over. He had a gorgeous, heavily muscled body. It was one of the hallmarks of the alter species, an increase in strength. Only with Vaughn, it had made him almost godlike.
He had a massive chest with tattoos spanning the breadth. His pecs were full and made her mouth water.
Some witchy part of her, maybe what she’d accessed earlier, came alive as well. She felt her power begin to flow. It was the same energy that could light up the tips of her fingers and send a surge of electricity through his temple and kill him.
But killing wasn’t on her mind and all that electricity spread down her neck, over her breasts and rolled toward her sex. When it hit, her whole body writhed.
He reached for her own towel and slowly pulled apart the tucked in section. She felt a sweep of cold air as the terry fell to the floor.
He touched her shoulders, then pulled back. “I’m feeling that electricity of yours again.”
“Yes, you’d have to be.” The words came out breathy. “Because I’m feeling it, too, all through my body.”
Her gaze fell to his cock. He was fully erect and maybe as hungry as she was because she saw moisture beaded at the tip.