She buried her head in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. He smelled...clean. She shifted again. His natural scent was so light she couldn’t really discern anything. But the smoky, stale beer scent of the bar went away when he was near.
*
Derek lost track of how long he’d been dancing with Gwen. He vaguely recognized the tempo increase in the music a few minutes ago. Still, they stayed locked together, barely moving.
Even though they were practically stationary, his pulse rate was soaring. She felt amazing under his hands. The leather she wore molded to her curves. She was such a small woman, but damn, her curves were impressive.
She snuggled deeper into his arms, surrounding him with her flowery fragrance. "Can we leave now?"
She spoke so softy at first he thought he was hearing things.
“Derek?”
“Sure, we can leave,” he said, stepping back, reluctantly letting his arms fall to the side. “You still feeling a little woozy? Maybe you should go home and get some rest.”
“No, I meant, can we leave now?”
He had no idea why she seemed to trust him like she did. And he had to admit, he was scared as hell each and every time he met her eyes, but he couldn’t stop himself. He’d never looked at someone and felt so... much before. And when he did look in her eyes, what he saw there nearly knocked him to his knees. Her eyes were filled with lust and heat.
And he thought his blood pressure had been high before?
“Let’s go.”
Once again, he grabbed her hand and pulled her through the throng of people. Her small hand practically scorched his, it was so hot.
The contrast from the heat of the club to the chill of the outside air was shocking. He led her across the street to where his sleek car was parked.
“How did you know where I parked?” she asked.
“What?”
She pointed to the red car next to his obviously much more expensive one.
“This is my car,” he said, indicating his chrome-plated baby.
She simply stared at the car. For a moment he felt uncomfortable. He loved his car, but Brad had said it was a bit on the ostentatious side.
“Nice,” she finally muttered.
She took a few more steps to the car and ran her hands over the sleek metal. His cock hardened, imagining his body getting the same treatment.
And at that moment, he couldn’t keep his hands off her any longer. He took two steps and left only a sliver of air between them. Ever so slowly, maximizing the anticipation, he leaned forward, bringing his front in perfect alignment with her back.
She let out a slight sound, something between a moan and a whimper. It was most definitely a sound that meant please, more.
The cold air, the club across the street, the other cars in the parking lot, everything except he and Gwen ceased to exist.
His hands settled on her hips, pulling her back harder against his raging hard-on. The temporary respite of her touch was well worth the increasing need flowing through his body.
She stood up straight, aligning their bodies completely. Even though she was a small woman, her super-high heels brought her to the perfect height.
He lowered his head to her neck.
Again, her scent washed over him. His cock twitched against her ass.
Without speaking, she wriggled against him. Encouraging him to continue. He opened his mouth, his tongue tasting her neck. She was like ambrosia. Sweet and absolutely perfect. Like all of the best foods he’d ever eaten in his life combined into one.
He continued nibbling on her neck as his hands slid up the front of her leather-clad body. When he cupped her breasts in his hands, he could feel the pebbling of her nipples through the thick material.
“What if someone sees us?” she asked, though she made no move to stop him.
“No one will see us.” He’d already made sure of that. Being the King of Darkness had certain advantages. He’d cocooned them in their own special bubble the second her hands had reached out to stroke his car.
“But... ”
He leaned into her more and spoke directly next to her ear. “I promise you, no one can see us.”
As if to prove his point a man walked by no more than ten feet in front of them. He didn’t spare them a glance. Whether it was his words or proof that made her believe him, he didn’t know. Nor did he care.
“Then touch me more,” she said.
No way did he need to be asked twice.
He ran his hands up and down the exposed skin between her breasts. He was desperate to prolong pleasure for both of them, but he could only hold out for so long.
His hand slid between the leather and her skin. Her nipples hardened even more against his cold palms. When she whimpered, his breath escaped in a hiss.
She leaned forward slightly over the hood of his car. The new position gave her just enough room to reach between their bodies.
As if her hand was some kind of heat seeking missile, she unerringly found his cock. Through the material of his pants, she squeezed hard, and he thrust harder into her palm.
She made very happy noises in the back of her throat.
Derek was afraid he was beyond the point of no return.
He reluctantly moved his hands from her breasts, sliding them down her torso and then around her waist. When his hand reached the small of her back, he pressed forward so she was sprawled on the top of his car.
Her skirt rose up, showing off the backs of those delectable thighs. He thought briefly about sinking to his knees to explore, but he needed her too much. So he simply slid her skirt up further to reveal a beautiful heart shaped ass. It was bare except for a scrap of black leather bisecting her cheeks.
“So damn beautiful.”
The words seemed to echo through the night and for the first time he realized how quiet and isolated they were in the bubble he’d created for them.
“Please,” she whispered.
He undid his pants in record time. He pulled her thong aside and paused, poised at her entrance. He had a feeling that taking this step was going to change him forever.
At the same time, he knew with absolutely certainly he didn’t have the strength to turn away.
He pressed forward and slid deep into her moist wet heat.
“Oh, Gwen.”
“Derek,” she said at the same time.
He felt warm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt warm. Hell, buried deep inside of her, he felt like he was on fire.
“Harder,” she demanded.
He had no problem following her orders. He picked up his pace, thrusting his cock harder and deeper inside of her. Filling her.
But he was being filled just as much. For the first time in more years than he could count, he felt something. Something more than darkness.
And it felt damn good.
He couldn’t maintain his pace much longer. The end of his control was nearing.
But that was okay. Gwen didn’t seem to have much control left either.
Her pussy contracted around his cock as her moans and groans filled the air.
“Oh, God, yes,” she screamed.
She clamped her pussy muscles tight around him. He couldn’t have held back if his life depended on it.
He pulled out one last time before thrusting in to the hilt. He exploded deep inside of her. He actually saw stars. Fucking stars.
His knees barely supported him anymore and he collapsed forward, crushing her against the car.
She didn’t seem to mind.
Chapter Three
Gwen awoke with a smile on her face. She stretched languidly like a cat.
But when muscles that hadn’t felt achy in a long time protested her stretching, her eyes snapped open.
“What happened?”
She didn’t expect an answer, and actually, she was quite relieved when she didn’t get one.
She propped herself on her elbows as she tried to decode her dreams. Or were they
memories?
She remembered getting ready to go to the bar last night. The leather dress she’d picked to wear lay draped over the back of the chair in the corner. Okay, so that proved she wasn’t completely crazy. But things after that were a bit hazy.
Most of what she remembered was just flashes of images and sensation.
She remembered a large blood red drink. The eyes of the man in her painting. When she thought of him, she felt blues and greens, definitely cool colors.
That was odd considering she had a feeling he’d blaze with red-hot passion.
She struggled to get up. Her head was still fuzzy. When she got to a sitting position, the sheet fell to her waist. She was buck-naked.
Even on her most drunken nights in college, she’d remembered to put her pajamas on before passing out.
Just another disconcerting thing to add to the ever-increasing list of weirdness her life had become.
She got out of bed and slipped into her bathrobe. When she ran her hands through her long blonde hair, the smell of bar wafted through the room.
So she really had gone out last night.
She walked through her apartment into the kitchen. She poured herself a cup of coffee, but had to struggle to swallow it. It had gone cold.
“I slept all day?”
The automatic coffee maker was set to start perking at noon—she was an artist, she was allowed to keep odd hours—but when she checked the clock, it said four.
As much as she’d like to think it was actually four in the morning, the sounds of life outside, not to mention the sunlight pouring through the windows, proved that she really had slept the day away
She poured out the now cold coffee and grabbed a bottle of water before heading up to her loft studio. The first thing she noticed was the light blinking frantically on her answering machine. When she pushed the button, someone’s voice filled the air, but she didn’t hear a word.
There were four brand new painted canvases around the room. And, as she looked at them, memories from last night came flooding back to her.
Still, the question remained. Were they memories? Or were they dreams?
She walked to the first painting. It was the largest of the four. Horizontal, about twenty-four by thirty-six, sitting on the floor.
Her artist’s eye could tell that it had been painted quickly and with great passion from the thick splashes of color. The painting was fairly abstract but she recognized the powerful lines of the sleek Aston Martin. Two people, naked except for thick blobs of color, writhed on the hood of the car. One of the clearest features of the painting was the woman’s face, clearly caught in the throes of an incredible orgasm.
Tingles skittered through her body as she stared at the painting. She must be a better artist than she thought, because her breasts grew heavy and her pussy tingled as she gazed at the painting. If she didn’t stop looking soon, she was going to have to take matters into her own hands.
She reluctantly moved on to the next painting. This one was slightly smaller than the first. It lay flat on the floor. It was even more abstract but she had no problems recognizing Club Insomnia. She got the same feeling looking at the painting as she had walking into the club last night.
As she looked at the painting, she could hear the thumping bass line and feel the crush of bodies she’d had to walk through to get to the bar. She felt the same nervous energy and exhilaration as she had last night.
She opened the bottle of water and took a long swig before looking at the next painting.
It brought a smile to her face. It was a couple she’d seen dancing at the bar last night. A small pixie-like woman dressed in pink leather danced with her oversized husband.
Gwen was pretty impressed with herself. She’d only seen them both briefly, but she though she’d captured their likenesses very well. And there was no denying she captured the love shining between them perfectly.
She smiled and had to stop herself from reaching out to touch the picture. If she really painted them last night, which she assumed she had, as they were definitely her work, the paint would still be wet.
All she could see of the last canvas was the back. She downed the rest of her water and took a deep breath before crossing the room, then stepped in front of it with her eyes closed. She had a feeling that whatever was on this canvas was going to be powerful. Taking one last breath, she held it before opening her eyes.
The canvas was blank.
She laughed.
A blank canvas was powerful in itself, but it certainly hadn’t been what she was expecting.
An hour later, after catching up on real life stuff, she sat down at her oversized workbench and pulled out her sketchpad.
She’d had interest from one of the galleries across town and needed to put together some pieces for a show.
But once she flipped open her sketchpad, any thoughts she had about planning a show flew right out of her mind. She instantly knew that these images were the ones destined to go on the remaining canvas from last night.
Derek’s face stared back at her. He looked so dark and dangerous, yet she felt a tightening in her womb just looking at a picture of him.
Next to him was the other man from her dream. The man whose name she still didn’t know. His smile and dimples took up the majority of the image. Looking at him, she felt dread settle in the pit of her stomach.
Instantly she knew this was what she was going to spend her day doing. Painting these two men. Her salvation and her death.
Good God, she really was starting to go crazy.
* * * *
“Did you have any problems last night?”
Brad turned away from the big bank of monitors and a slow grin spread across his face.
“Derek, what did you do last night? I haven’t seen you look this relaxed in... well...ever.”
Derek tried hard to bring back the dark mood that had settled over him for the past few hundred years, but he had a hard time. He actually felt good. “Just went to Club Insomnia, that’s all,” he lied to his second in command.
“Right.” Brad turned back to the big console of monitors and pressed a few buttons.
Derek was shocked when the interior of Club Insomnia appeared on the screen. A few more clicks and Derek had to grab the back of the chair in order to remain standing.
His good mood was replaced by a thick black cloud.
“I guess you didn’t know about this?”
It was Kyle.
He’d been the one that caused Gwen to faint. He’d been so close to her. Why hadn’t Derek been able to smell the other man's scent on Gwen? Oh, God, this couldn’t be happening again. It just couldn’t.
He shook his head at Brad’s question.
“It could be just a coincidence, Derek.”
Brad was one of the few people that knew about Derek’s relationship with the last Key. And it was happening again.
But looking at Gwen’s terrified stance, seeing the fear in her eyes, those very same eyes that had blazed with passion later the same night, he knew it was no coincidence.
Fate was going to repeat itself.
He was going to be Gwen’s death.
He turned to leave the office and then realized he didn’t have anywhere to go. He turned back to the large monitor where Gwen’s face was still frozen in fear.
“Get that the hell off there, will you?”
Brad pressed a button and the screen went black. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew about the Key?” he asked.
“How do you know I do?”
“Because you wouldn’t be reacting like that if you didn’t know.”
Derek didn’t speak. He paced the small office.
He couldn’t go through this again. He couldn’t watch another woman he cared about be torn away from him.
Not that Gwen was his woman.
“If Kyle is trying to tap another Key, don’t you think we should do something about it?” Brad asked.
“Of course I think we should
do something about.” Derek whirled on his friend. “But I didn’t really do so well the last time this happened, did I?”
He hadn’t. Tabitha had died a horrible and painful death. And in the end, she’d cursed his appearance in her life. He couldn’t blame her.
He may not have plunged the knife into her heart, but he was just as responsible for her death as Kyle was.
“So, what are you going to do?” Derek didn’t speak, so Brad continued. “If Kyle has his way, we’re out of a job.”
It was more than that.
Kyle had spent his life trying to upset the balance between day and night. Not only would Derek be out of a job, as Brad so eloquently put it, but life as humankind knew it would cease to exist. There would be no more night, simply eternal day.
Creatures of the night would die out. And those creatures made up a larger portion of the population than anyone would have guessed. The balance of power in the world would shift if that happened. Not to mention the havoc it would wreak on Mother Nature.
The Key was Kyle’s avenue to destroy the power of the Night.
Gwen was the Key.
She was the one woman who had the ability to bridge the gap between day and night. If Kyle could get Gwen to agree to his demands, the power of the night would be eliminated.
Derek’s mind fled back a hundred years to the last time a Key had been tapped.
Back then, he’d still been young, if hundreds of years could be considered young, and naïve. He’d fallen for Tabitha the second he’d seen her. She’d been so quiet and gentle. The first time he’d seen her, he’d been haunting her dreams.
She’d looked so sweet with her big eyes closed, her eyelashes fluttering even in sleep. Her brown hair had been spread out around her pillow. A virginal white nightgown covered her up to her chin.
He’d been instantly smitten.
Rather than haunting her dreams, he’d spend the evening by the side of her bed, watching. And he’d spent days after that just watching her. It was Brad who finally caught him. And it was Brad that had finally urged him to go meet her in person.
If he closed his eyes, he could still hear her laughing, running through the meadow near her parent’s home. He’d pretended to be a traveler, on his way to make his fortune in the gold rush. He’d approached her and asked if it would be all right if he spent the evening camping on her father’s property.
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