by Lauren Dane
As he continued to attack her, circling and lunging, it became clear he wasn’t going to tell her anything. Ah well, she needed to move this along then.
Preternaturally fast, he lunged, lifting slightly off the ground but she ducked, kicking out, rewarded with the satisfying snap when she connected with his knee. The air rushed out of him in an oath when he hit the ground.
Spinning, she connected the heel of her hand to his nose, knowing she’d broken it when she heard the crunch. She followed with the hilt of the blade to his windpipe.
His choking sounds in her ears, she turned, facing east, knowing the time had come. Murmuring a blessing, she brought the blade to her lips and kissed it at the hilt.
Sensing her distraction, he attacked her from behind but she was faster than he knew. A deft movement of her wrist and arm brought the blade up as she spun to the side. A croak of surprise came from him as the long blade embedded in his chest. The stench of his blood and burning flesh from the surface of the blade making contact filled the air.
“Die well, Vampire. I hope death brings the peace you could not find in life.”
His shocked expression changed, softened, and his body turned to dust around the blade.
Rowan knelt on the earth and touched her forehead to the ground in thanks for the gift of strength, will and agility. She felt the Goddess drain from her, leaving behind healing and peace of mind.
Standing, muscles burning and jumping from the rush of possession, battle and Brigid’s power leaving her body, Rowan realized the sounds of the world around her had returned.
Leaning down, she cleaned the blade on a patch of grass. She’d do a more thorough job when she got home but the earth would help cleanse the blood and taint from it in the meantime. Moving her hair to the side, Rowan slid the blade into the sheath and walked back toward the restaurant to get Thena and get back to Vegas.
Chapter Nine
Face still stinging from the nasty gashes the Vampire she’d killed tore into her flesh, Rowan stalked through the front doors of Fleur.
The maître d’ rushed over in a vain attempt to keep her out, but his panicked flailing only amused her in her cranky state so she ignored him. She had quarry to run to ground and currently he sat at a table in a shadowy and yet visible corner wearing a designer suit and sipping a glass of wine without a care in the world.
Stalking over, her gaze locked on him until he looked up at her and started before narrowing his eyes. Well, that countered the sting a little bit.
“Ms. Summerwaite,” he said, voice smooth but wariness edged it.
“I need to speak to you, Mr. Stewart.” The people at the table with him were human and so she didn’t want to make a scene and break the treaty. She did want to pop the smug right off his face though.
“Ms. Summerwaite, as you can see, I’m in the middle of a business dinner. You should feel free to call my assistant to set up an appointment for later on in the week and we can discuss whatever it is you need then.”
When would he learn? She sighed.
She sat in the chair she pulled free and leveled a look his way, just to be fair and let him know he was really in a shitton of trouble “Well, Clive, I suppose you may have noticed the marks on my face?” She turned to face the other men at the table who watched her with slightly fearful fascination. “Terrible world isn’t it when a girl can’t even have dinner without being attacked by the Vampires of the world?” She shook her head sadly and narrowed one eye at Clive, daring him to continue to fuck with her.
She was almost disappointed when he heaved a sigh and stood. “Will you gentlemen excuse me for a few minutes? I would hate for Ms. Summerwaite to feel as if I hadn’t defended a damsel in a time of need.”
The maître d’, who’d been dancing around in distress at Clive’s elbow, listened, nodding like a bobblehead as Clive spoke in his ear. Without looking at her once he’d finished, he reached out, clamped his fingers around her elbow and steered her down an interior hallway.
Fleur was the flagship restaurant for the upwardly mobile Vampires in Vegas so Rowan wasn’t surprised when he unlocked a door to a swank office and ushered her inside, closing and locking it again behind them.
“My patience with you is quite short, Hunter. I’m in the middle of something. What can’t wait until tomorrow?”
“On my way back from Barstow, where the victim of your whackadoo killer Vampire’s victim lived, I was attacked. Do you know how gross it is when venom gets in my system? Why don’t you people clip your damned nails? It’s gross. I know hygiene standards were not very high in the Dark Ages when you were a young lad and all, but if you can drive and use computers now, I expect you all to clip your nails. I had to pour holy water in the wounds, which hurt like a bitch.”
He looked her up and down. “I take it you proved victorious?”
Rowan just stared at him for long moments. “If by that you mean did I drop off a very pissed-off friend, go to my apartment and wash Vampire blood off and change my clothes, which were covered in dust? Oh and did I have my valet pour holy water over open Vampire wounds which, yes, I’m going to remind you again hurts like a motherfucker. Yes. I killed your little buddy and I even had to file a fucking report about it via cell phone on my way over here after having to dance around your personal assistant’s assistant for twenty minutes before she’d tell me where you were. One, I hate personal assistants. Two, I hate having to file reports. Three, I told you there was a problem in Whoville.”
“My buddy? A random Vampire with a death wish attacks you and suddenly he’s my buddy? This has nothing to do with me and why you think this merits disturbing me in the middle of dinner is beyond my ability to conceive.”
“Look, stop acting like you’re just this guy standing in line at the grocery store. You’re their boss and this is your town as you so snottily informed me, remember that? So yes, he’s your buddy. He’s under your jurisdiction and you’re responsible for him. You would be a totally sucky dad, just sayin’. You have a killer on the loose and that makes it your problem. I’m making it your problem.”
“You said you killed him. Problem solved, thank you.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the desk.
“Problem solved?”
“Your killer is dead. Thank you for your service to the Vampire Nation, I’m sure your godfather will be very pleased.”
“Are. You. Out. Of. Your. Fucking. Mind? He wasn’t the killer! He was sent by the killer to dispatch me. By someone not even smart enough to warn his little assassin about what I was. The problem is so not solved.”
“Did he tell you that?”
Unable to stop herself, she poked him square in the chest. “Did I say he was mentally defective? Why would he say something so stupid? This isn’t an episode of Perry Mason. He didn’t give me a map to the killer’s house either. Pity, I should have thought to ask. Would you like his name? He did tell me that.”
He grabbed her hand and moved it away, grasping her wrist. “You’re very unpleasant. Please remove your finger from my chest. Go ahead and give me his name. I’ll send it along to one of my lieutenants and they’ll look into it. In the meantime I have a dinner to return to.”
“Charles Rossinni. And if you don’t unhand me right now I’ll shove my boot right up your ass along with that two-foot-long stick you’ve already got wedged up there.”
With a deft movement, he yanked her wrist, pulling her close. Her hormones surged as she realized, with nearly detached fascination, they were totally going to do it.
A tortured moan escaped him before his mouth found hers. Her hands slid up into his hair, needing to muss it up and then grab it, holding him to her.
Shivers racked her as his tongue took possession of her mouth, the heat and wet of him echoing outward. Her nipples hardened to the point of pain until his hands found them through the material of her shirt.
Her hands left his hair to find the buckle of his belt and then the button and zipper of his tr
ousers.
He spun then and picked her up, tossing her ass on the surface of the desk, sweeping the stuff on top off with a deft movement.
The quick violence of the movement brought an involuntary groan from her. She didn’t want to be affected by him but she was. Her chest heaved as she struggled for breath.
“Pants. Open your pants, man!” she whispered urgently. Her nerves jangled as his hands stroked over her with a rough possession.
“Impatient!” Clive’s words were sharp with his own hunger. Still the hint of a smile played at the corner of his lips as he ate her up with his roving hands and his eyes.
“Shut up and do me. My God you Brits with the talking!”
“Vulgar American women.” He arched his now-free cock into the vee of her open thighs.
“Yeah, well judging from the way you just tossed me up here like a fucking cheeseburger I think you’re just fine with my vulgarity, fang.”
She kicked off one boot but he didn’t let her get any further. Instead he yanked open the waist of her jeans and pulled them down, only bothering to free one leg.
“I hope you’re not considering doing away with the niceties like foreplay.”
She arched as his fingers found her sex, pressing deep inside as his thumb pressed over her clit.
“As wet as you are, I don’t think there’s any issue of you not being ready. Are you playing hard to get with my hand between your thighs?” His gaze locked with hers, daring her to deny it.
“Oh we’re going to fuck but you have to work for it, buster.” Before she could poke at him any further, orgasm burst through her as she arched, her head hitting the desk.
“Hmm, how’s that for working? Stand up and turn around. Please,” he added when she cracked open an eye and looked at him.
“You don’t even have calluses on your fingers. I doubt you work that hard. I’d give it a seven out of ten.” She hopped down and turned to face the desk. He bent her forward and she widened her stance for balance.
He ran the edge of his teeth at the back of her neck and she tightened. “No biting! Sex, obviously yes, even if I am the dumbest woman ever. But no blood sucking. You people have taken enough from me.”
He grabbed her hair, wrapping it around his fist and levered her head around so he could kiss her hard. “I don’t want your blood. It would most likely be very bitter.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. Goddess, he was a pretty witty man, even if he was one of them. And she’d lied, it was way closer to nine than seven. But his ego was as swollen as his prick so she wasn’t going to egg him on any more than she already had.
The blunt head of him pressed against the heat of her and then inside. She rejoiced internally that crossbreeding and STDs weren’t possible.
That first entry was slow. Slow enough for her to arch back like a cat needing more from him.
Earlier he’d pulled up the hem of her shirt and shoved the cups of her bra down, and the cool of the glass top of the desk pressed against her nipples as he held her still with a palm at the middle of her back. Her face was just inches above the reflective surface and she couldn’t close her eyes against the vision of the woman there looking up at her.
Wanton. Flushed. Lips swollen from kissing and wet from her tongue. She wanted this. Knew in the back of her mind this could happen even as they walked down that hallway. It was totally mental. Absolutely self-destructive and dangerous, but every inch of her skin was alive and on fire for him. She wanted to be angry with herself for it but she just arched to take him deeper instead.
She looked into her own eyes as he filled her up and retreated, thrusting into her with hard, feral digs. There was something deeply intimate about it, about seeing herself that way. Certainly raw and absolutely undeniably hot for the man whose body filled hers over and over.
The scent of how much she wanted him hung in the air along with the essential musk of his own body, the warm, sharp scent he gave off as his body heated. Heated for her.
“This is wrong,” he gasped out.
“Seems like you’re doing just fine from where I’m at,” she murmured as she moved to her toes to thrust back at him.
“Damn that’s good. Your mouth is the annoying part when it isn’t better occupied apparently. However, your body is as dangerous as that blade I’m looking at.”
“Oh is that what you’re telling yourself, Clive? Yes, yes, like that. Are you telling yourself my magic hoo-ha is why you can’t be around me for three minutes without wanting to fuck me?” She laughed but there was no real mirth there.
His movements became less coordinated, his breathing choppy as she continued to watch herself. Was it voyeurism or exhibitionism? Both? Neither?
It stung, but just right, where his fingers dug into the muscles of her hips and ass while he pressed deep one last time and then came with a groan. What surprised her was the way he gently leaned down and kissed the nape of her neck before moving back and pulling out.
“Good lord, we just had sex,” he murmured, tucking himself into his pants and then straightening his clothing.
“You’re very observant. What are you going to do about this killer?” She finger-combed her hair before putting herself in order. She shoved all the voices in her head screaming about how stupid she’d been, again, aside.
“You killed the killer, Rowan. Problem solved. I’ll ask around about Rossinni but you can’t point to any evidence of him working with anyone else. He came to kill you because you got close to unmasking him. It’s over. Stop looking for another Vampire to blame.”
“Is that what you really think?” she asked, disgusted, hurt and then pissed off at herself for allowing his feelings to matter. Well, her godfather always said the best learned lessons were those involving pain. Apparently her pink parts weren’t discriminating, but her brain sure as hell knew what Clive was.
“You’ve been officially notified, Scion. This isn’t over and you know it. I’ve been doing this long enough to know. That Vampire tonight was sent by someone else but if you’re too lazy to assert control over your people you’ll have to deal with it.”
She went to the door and unlocked it. “Be seeing you around.”
David greeted her when she arrived home. “Déesse, the Motherhouse has called twice.”
She sighed. A simple phone message wasn’t going to be enough. She knew it, but the last thing she wanted to do was deal with a video call after she’d just been tossed over a desk and fucked silly by the Scion.
David hesitated a moment before clearing his throat. “May I look at your face again? I’m concerned about infection and scarring.”
He’d held himself together well when she came home covered in blood and the remains of a Vampire she’d dusted. Hadn’t been the first time, but despite what the Vampires like Clive wanted to think, it was rare she actually had to kill.
She wasn’t sure she was up to being tended just then, though. “I’m going to shower again. I’ll come down and call Susan afterward. I promise to let you deal with the gashes then.” She managed a smile to reassure him before disappearing upstairs.
Under the spray, with the sound of water rushing through the pipes, she allowed herself to break. The adrenaline of the fight was long used up. The anger at what had happened had burned out. The excitement of the encounter with Clive had bled into confusion and guilt.
Covered in gashes from one of them and she not only allowed Clive to touch her, she’d reveled in it. Goddess, what was wrong with the women in her family? First her mother and the dalliance with Rowan’s father that had ended with both of them murdered and now this stupid whatever it was with Clive Stewart.
He was not for her. His reaction to the news and his quick jump to problem solved was further proof of that.
She let the tears come, letting that part of her connected to the Goddess take over and wash through her. A sort of sweet, mother-love flowed and soothed her aches. Most of them anyway and that was enough.
By the time she
made it downstairs to her office to make the call, she was back on track. David tended to the gashes quickly and efficiently and when he returned from putting the first-aid supplies away, it was with a hot cup of tea and a lemon scone.
She swallowed the swell of emotion and thanked him before turning to the phone.
After midnight in Vegas, but the partners at the Motherhouse in London and their counterparts in Paris would be up several hours before dawn. Hunters worked when the sun went down far more often than when it was up.
Susan’s face showed up first on the display, followed by her husband, Rex, and from Paris, Celesse Blanc, Rowan’s original trainer.
“We got your message, Rowan.” Susan sipped some tea as she looked through her notes and then back to the screen. “Explain.”
She told them the entire story from the trip out to Barstow to her confrontation with Clive. Well, not the sex part, but everything else.
Rex began to work, clicking away on his keyboard. He was the master of the Hunter Archives so she knew he’d be searching on Rossinni as well as looking for any references to the victim or her compatriots.
“We deem this a clean kill.” Celesse’s voice was smooth, but her past with Rowan wasn’t. Still, they’d achieved a decent enough working relationship in the years since Rowan had left Paris.
“The Nation has already communicated this to the partners. The Scion of Las Vegas himself signed off. Good work, Rowan.” Susan looked at the screen over the top of her glasses.
Rowan stifled her amusement at how Susan often took on the affectation of an older, mild woman when she was so very not mild. Rowan had learned a lot of masks from The First, but it was Susan who’d sharpened Rowan’s skills and given her a direction.
“Why don’t you think this is the end, Rowan?” Celesse raised a single brow, just ever so slightly. “The Scion underlined his belief that it was.”
Yes, and Vampires were so known for their integrity. However, that was not a crack Celesse would suffer lightly. The woman was all business and frowned upon what she thought of as Rowan’s bad attitude.