Bound by Her Passion

by Mara Leigh

  I need to build up to it. “I’m hoping you can answer some questions about vampires,” I tell him.

  “I don’t like garlic.” He winks. “In fact, I detest the stuff, but it’s not enough to scare me away.”

  “Thanks.” I kick him lightly under the table. “That’s exactly what I was going to ask you.”

  He twists the stem of his wine glass between his thumb and index fingers. “Whatever you want to know, princess, ask away.”

  I try to decide where to start. Zora’s warped sense of ethics got me thinking. “When Xavier’s Guard swooped in on us, and some of them were killed…was that murder? I mean, no one got arrested. No one from our side anyway.”

  “It was self-defense, not murder.”

  I nod. “What happens if it’s not self-defense?”

  “There is no worse crime than murder.” I’ve never seen Gray look so serious. “The sentence when a vampire kills a human is a minimum forty years in prison—based on the average life expectancy of a human when the law was last changed.” He looks like he’s thinking. “Guess they should update that.”

  “And for killing another vampire?”

  “Three hundred years. Or death, depending on the circumstances.”

  I suck in a sharp breath. “What kind of circumstances?”

  “Killing another vampire when there are human witnesses, killing your Progeny, killing your Maker…stuff like that.”

  “Oh.” Even if I could bring myself to kill Zora, I would be put to death, and I’m actually relieved to have a strong deterrent, an excuse not to even think about it.

  “You thinking of killing Pike?” Gray asks. “Is that why you agreed to let him move in? Plan to stake him in his bed?”

  “No!”

  He reaches over the table and takes my hand. “Princess. I’m joking. Wow. Are you actually thinking of killing Pike? Because that’s a really, really bad idea.”

  I shake my head.

  “Then who?”

  “No one. I’ve just been realizing how much I didn’t learn from my Maker.”

  He nods and his expression changes.

  “What are you thinking about?” I ask.

  “Shagging you senseless.”

  I kick him under the table again. “No, you’re not. You look like you’re worried—or hiding something. What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Can’t a man have a little mystery?” He shoots me a mischievous grin. “Or is mystery only for femme fatales?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s gender discrimination.”

  “Very funny.” I stare into the amber liquid in my glass, letting it swirl. “When a vampire is killed, how do the others determine if it’s self-defense? What if there are no witnesses?”

  “Shit, princess. Seriously. Who are you planning to kill? Should I be worried?” He puts his hands over his heart.

  “Very worried.” I wink at him. “Just don’t cross me.”

  “I would never.” His playful expression turns serious. “I will always protect you. I will always defend you. And I will never do anything to betray you, my princess.”

  I suck in a sharp breath at the power of his words and their delivery. It was like he was declaring some sacred oath, not just reassuring his girlfriend in a bar. Gray is such an enigma—all joking playboy one minute, then this fierce defender the next.

  “Why do you call me princess?” He gave me the nickname almost from the start.

  “Because…” He leans across the table, his lips close to my ear. “I live to serve your cunny.”

  “Gray!” I push on his shoulder to move him away, and shoot him a scolding look, but inside, my body responds in an entirely different way. “Why do you do that?” I ask.

  “What?”

  “Turn everything dirty. Put up walls.”

  He glances around, pretending he’s confused. “Walls? I see no walls.”

  “You know what I mean. Every time something gets serious between us, you make a joke, or reduce it to something crude or sexual. You never let me in.”

  He shoots me a wicked look. “If you want in, we can talk about that. Are you thinking fingers up my bum or wearing a strap-on?”

  I lean back. “You’re impossible.”

  “And that’s why you love me.” He has a visible reaction the second he says love, as if the word escaped by accident. Then he looks away from me. “Your admirer is staring again.”

  I glance over to Colton and smile. With Colton, I know where I stand. We haven’t so much as kissed, but in some ways I feel like I know him better than I do Gray. Or at least I know more about him, his family, his life, his job, how he feels about me—and vampires. I wish I didn’t know that.

  I know none of those things about the vampire sitting across from me now—my lover. Our bodies have done the most intimate things, and yet there’s no true intimacy between us, and I long for that, I crave it. I’ve been so blessed I feel greedy to want more, but it breaks my heart that Gray may never give me everything that I want.

  “Any other questions?” he asks.

  “Does this symbol mean anything to you?” I dip my finger into my whiskey and trace onto the table the symbol of my scar, the one found on all of Zora’s victims.

  Gray goes white. “Where have you seen that?” he asks.

  “Well, here for one place.” I turn and show him the back of my neck.

  “Holy shit.” His finger traces my scar.

  Even though I’m angry with him right now, the contact rips an excited thrill through my body.

  I drop my hair. “What is the symbol?”

  “Not sure.”

  “Bullshit.”

  He shrugs.

  “You’ve never seen it before?”

  He shakes his head, but I can tell that he’s lying.

  “Then why did you react like that?”

  He leans back, like this is the most casual conversation in the world. “I was just surprised I never saw that while I was fucking you.” He leans forward. “You know I like you from behind.”

  I glare at him. He’s clearly hiding something. And it’s pissing me off.

  “Guess I should open my eyes once in a while,” he says jokingly. “Pay more attention to parts of you beyond that deliciously tight, wet hole between your legs.”

  “That’s it.” I slide out of the booth.

  Gray reaches for my hand, but grabs my wrist. “Where are you going?”

  “None of your business.” I tug at my arm, but he tightens his grip on my wrist.

  “Your safety is my business.” He’s all serious now. Like this actually is business for him, not even a bit personal. Like he doesn’t even realize how his crudeness just hurt me.

  “I’m going for a walk—with Colton.”

  “Everything okay here?” Colton steps up beside me, glaring at Gray and the way he’s holding my wrist.

  Gray releases me. “See you later, princess.” Turning his gaze toward Colton instead of me, he adds, “We’ll finish this discussion at home, after a good hard fuck.”

  “Excuse me?” Colton’s chest widens. “That is no way to speak to a woman.”

  “He’s just joking.” I rub Colton’s arm, take his hand.

  “Yeah, Calvin,” Gray says. “I’m a bona fide comedian.”

  I lean into Colton. “Can we go to your place?”

  A blush rises on Colton’s cheeks and his neck, contrasting with the blond stubble on his chin.

  “Absolutely,” he says. “Whatever you like.”

  “Great.” Without even glancing back at Gray, or Rock for that matter, I leave the bar with my handsome puppy-dog cop.

  Chapter 29

  Colton

  My body, my heart, my mind have never felt like this. Not in combination that’s for sure. Selina’s hand in mine, I push open the door of the bar and then follow her out.

  Selina chose me tonight. She chose to spend time with me over both of those other men.

  My dick twitches, growing stiff in
my pants, and I hope I can control it enough that it doesn’t show. The last thing I want to do is embarrass or offend her—or worse scare her off.

  I cannot believe what that English pervert said to her. But I’m almost glad it happened. Her obvious disgust with his crude behavior and language proves he’s not good enough for her and that she knows it.

  I don’t get why men like that can be so obscene. The things I hear in the locker room at work sometimes make me cringe, and it’s hard to imagine that these men I know and work with treat women with so little respect.

  When I think of my mother, or my sister…

  Okay. That helped. My dick calmed down.

  Not that that part of me is ever fully in neutral when I’m around Selina or thinking of Selina.

  Damn. It’s getting hard again.

  “What did you want to tell me?” she asks.

  For a moment I’m caught off guard, thinking I might have said something aloud about my stiffening dick, but then I remember what we were talking about.

  “We’re closing in on the serial bloodsucker,” I tell her.

  “With your murder sweeps?” Her voice is quiet and tight. “How many vampires did you kill the last few nights?”

  “Me, personally?”

  She sucks in a sharp breath. “I was asking about the police overall, but now that you mention it.”

  “None. Didn’t have the pleasure.”

  “Killing gives you pleasure?” Her fingers are tense in my hand.

  I stop and look into her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.” I am screwing this up. “Selina, death is what vampires deserve. They’re killing machines. But even so, taking a life, even from one who’s technically dead. No, it would never give me pleasure.”

  “I’m glad.” Her expression is tense, her shoulders lifted. She’s so tenderhearted that she even empathizes with monsters, and it’s one of the things I love about her. “So how are you closing in?” she asks.

  “We caught her red-handed!”

  “Her?” Selina’s hand twitches in mine.

  “I know. It’s very unexpected.”

  “Interesting.” She’s so tense I can see her cheeks quiver. Or is it fear? I’m not sure.

  “And you caught her? The killer?” She sounds hopeful, I think. I’m not sure, but I’m glad we got this conversation back on track after I put my boot in my mouth.

  “Yup.” I grin.

  “So she’s— Is she dead?”

  I glance down to get a better read on Selina’s emotions as she asks me this in a surprisingly neutral tone. I pride myself on being able to read people, but Selina’s confusing. At least she is tonight.

  “Not dead.” I stop and turn to her, taking her other hand too. “But we caught her in the act.”

  “She killed again?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t understand.” Selina looks almost ill. “What act?”

  “Let’s sit down.” I gesture toward a nearby parkette, and we walk there in silence.

  I brush some leaves off a bench for her, and then take a seat myself.

  “I should go back to the beginning.” I stretch my arm across the bench behind her. “I was so excited to tell you the news that it came out all jumbled.”

  She nods, a soft smile on her face, but not one that makes her seem happy. If she were a suspect under interrogation, I’d think she was hiding something—hiding a crime—but in Selina’s case I think the smile means she’s trying to encourage me, trying to make me feel better after my bad case of foot in mouth disease.

  “So…” I consider where best to start. “Last night two constables on foot patrol caught a vampire in the act. A female vampire, if you can believe it, feeding on an innocent young woman. Someone not unlike you.”

  My chest tightens at the idea that Selina might ever be attacked by one of those vicious monsters. “But the vamp got away.”

  “So how do you know she was the serial killer?” Selina asks.

  “The mark!” My hand tightens on the bench rail behind her. “The villain had already carved her calling card onto the poor woman’s…” I look down “…her breast, if you can believe it.”

  “Wow.” Selina slides closer to me, and our thighs touch, and although there are two layers of denim between our legs, the connection’s electric. My hard-on problem returns full force.

  I want to adjust myself to make sure it doesn’t show, but that might break the connection between our thighs and that’s not worth the risk.

  “So you know now that the killer is female,” Selina says calmly. “Did they get a good look at her face?” She’s sitting so close now that I can’t see her expression. “Do you have a description?”

  “Better than that. The killer is getting sloppy. We caught her on camera.”

  “Really?” Selina’s breathing faster now. She must be so frightened.

  I take a chance and wrap my arm around her shoulders. She doesn’t resist, so I pull her closer, and she rests her head on my chest, sending me straight to heaven. At least I’d be going to heaven if I weren’t so certain that what’s going on between my legs will send me to hell.

  “Yup. It’s only a matter of time now.” I reassure her.

  “What does she look like?” Her voice is breathy.

  “I can show you, if you like.” Am I being too forward? No. Selina’s been to my apartment a couple of times, and asked to go there earlier. “If you still want to come over…”

  “To your apartment?”

  “Yeah. I have to log in to the department system on a secure line to show you.”

  “Then let’s go.” She stands and my arm slides off her shoulders.

  She looks agitated, but interested, and any second thoughts about sharing this confidential information disappear under the promise of spending more time with Selina.

  We walk the first two blocks in silence, my arm over her shoulders, her arm around my hips, and although she’s small, it’s like she fits perfectly under my arm. I barely even have to slow my normal pace for her to keep up.

  “How many other vampire-related murders have there been in the city that weren’t her?” she asks when we’re nearing my house. “Ones without the carved symbol.”

  “None since I joined the VTF…”

  “And how many vampires has the task force killed?”

  I open the gate, we pass through and then I let her go ahead, keeping close behind her as we walk down the breezeway toward the backyard and the entrance to my basement apartment.

  “Not sure of the exact number.” The motion detection light turns on over my back door as we near.

  “How many last night then. Last week?”

  “Dozens. No, probably hundreds.” I unlock the door, and step to the side to let her enter first. “The east end team found an nest the day before yesterday.”

  “They killed the vampires while they were sleeping?” Walking into the apartment, she sounds vaguely horrified.

  “No, that would be dangerous. Vampires don’t sleep all day like most people think.”

  “So…” She prods me to continue.

  “It was ingenious, really.” I take off my jacket and hang it on a hook, only then realizing I should have let her wear it home. It’s a chilly night, and without a coat she must have been cold.

  “How?” She leans against the side of my cheap IKEA bookcase.

  “Are you sure you want to know?” I step toward the kitchen table and turn back, trying to read her.

  “You said it was ingenious.” She’s engrossed, but why…

  I love that she’s interested in my work, but every time I talk about exterminating vampires her tenderhearted side comes out along with what feels like disapproval. She needs to understand how vicious they are. How devious.

  “The bloodsuckers were found in a warehouse in the docklands,” I tell her. “The place had windows so high the sun didn’t angle down to the floor.”

  She nods, but looks tense.

  “It was s
unny yesterday, remember?”

  Again she nods, but her gesture’s stiff. Still, her eyes tell me she wants me to finish.

  “Our team situated themselves on the roof, waited until the sun was directly above, then dropped angled mirrors in front of the windows to flood the floor with light.”

  “You burned them alive?” She shudders.

  “Vampires aren’t really alive.”

  “Yes they… How do you know they aren’t alive? From myths? Books? Stories?”

  I look at her quizzically. “Everyone knows vampires aren’t alive.”

  “But do they know it?” She crosses the room then plops down on my sofa.

  I cringe, seeing I left a dirty pair of sweat socks sitting in front of it last night. I toss them in the general direction of my laundry hamper before I sit down beside her.

  “Why would you think that they’re alive?” I ask. “I mean, now that you’ve got me thinking about it, it’s one of those things that no one ever can know, I guess. Not for sure.”

  She takes a long breath. “But what if you could know? That’s my point. People used to think that vampires didn’t even exist,” she says. “That they were a myth. Now we know that they’re real. Maybe with a little more understanding, more cooperation between species, instead of all the killing, you could get answers to some of these questions.”

  I scratch my head.

  “Do you guys even consider maybe talking to a vampire before you stake them? What if you reversed your policy to stake first and ask questions later?”

  I laugh at her joke. “That’s way too dangerous. Besides, if we don’t strike before they see us, they run. They’re super fast. They wouldn’t stick around to talk.”

  “Maybe because they know you’re about to kill them!”

  I shrug.

  “What if I told you I’ve talked to vampires,” she says softly, “and they’re not what you think.”

  “Then I’d tell you you’re crazy.”

  “Am I?” She turns toward me, bending one leg up on the sofa. “Am I crazy?”

  I tip my head to the side. We’re talking in hypotheticals, but she’s taking it so seriously. “No, you’re not crazy.”