by Riley Bancroft, Evelyn Berry, Cara Carnes, Jax Garren, Irene Preston, Rebecca Royce, Chandra Ryan
The problem was she didn’t just want him. She liked him. Given her way, they’d make tonight amazing and then see about tomorrow too, but a relationship meant a lot of honesty she didn’t know him well enough to give. Besides, it wasn’t fair to him to start anything if there was a chance she was going to be working for Marcos.
He straightened and turned to her. The dark look in his eyes meant he knew she’d been staring at his ass.
She cocked a hip. “How long does it take to find room in a near-empty fridge for one bottle?”
He shut the door and sauntered toward her. “How long would you like it to take?”
She popped him on the rear and headed to her room for her purse. “You are trouble with a French accent.”
When she came out, he was right where she’d left him, waiting for her with a soft expression. “You are an angel with magic hands.”
She swallowed past the lump forming. This was not a relationship. She didn’t have the freedom for a relationship. So tonight she’d keep it light and hot, one really good night before her fall from grace. She looked him over in a thorough examination. When there was no room for doubt about the wicked direction of her thoughts, she strode across the room to the door, high heels clacking on the tile. “If you like my hands, you’re going to love what I can do with my mouth.”
His expression blanked. “Aie pitié,” he muttered as she passed.
“Does that mean take pity?” She flicked him a wicked smile over her shoulder. “You sure that’s what you want?”
He was behind her in an instant, with the speed only a motivated vampire could muster. “Non. It means have mercy. Such talk gives me hopeful ideas.”
She squeezed his hip. “So you’re saying put up or shut up?”
“I would not say anything so crude, no. But have no doubt I want you.”
“I’m not the kind of woman who promises what I won’t deliver.” And she’d promised her grandmother she’d pay any bills. “Tonight I need something fun. Something good.” She turned to face him, her back against the door. “Can you be that for me tonight?”
He caressed her jawline, sending sparks from her face to her belly. When he traced her lips, the sensation moved lower. She kissed his finger, taking the tip between her lips.
He shuddered, catching his breath as roughly as if she’d tasted something more intimate than his thumb. “It would be my privilege.”
She sucked him in further, nipped his finger lightly, then let him go, scraping her tongue across the pad of his thumb as it left her mouth.
He groaned. “‘La Belle Dame sans Merci.’”
A Keats poem, early nineteenth century. Maybe he was two hundred? She’d probably never know, and it made her sad.
He replaced his thumb with his lips, and every other thought disappeared in the feel of his mouth and the taste of mint and a touch of bourbon. Alex kissed her like he’d been waiting for years and found her worth every second. She leaned into his body and his need, his heat stoking hers until she was breathless and blessedly empty and longing for him. The demand in his body surprised her with its urgent but unhurried desire.
She wrapped a hand in his soft curls. She knew right where he liked to be touched. Everything she’d learned in the last seven months, every spot she could command to make him tense or relax, each bit of skin where he’d sighed on her table or stifled a laugh as she hit a ticklish spot, she could use it all. And make it better. One damn good night.
He stroked her leg, ran his fingers under the hem of her short skirt. She bent her knee and hooked her leg around his to give him better access. He took it, shoving the fabric aside until his hand cupped the bare curve of her ass.
“God. Woman.” He kissed her jawline, then her neck, scraping her skin with his blunt teeth, flicking it with his tongue.
She arched into him, couldn’t get close enough. Close enough to feel and to forget.
His free hand slid between them, and he filled it with her breast. Warmth and pressure drove her higher, and she gasped in little breaths. His tongue swirled over her collarbone. With a painful groan he pulled away. His accent was thick as he muttered, “We have tickets. I promised you a movie. I fear we will miss it if I do not—”
She body-rolled against him, and he stopped talking. She motioned toward the parking lot with a flick of her chin. “The movie’s that way.” She motioned toward the back of her apartment. “My bedroom’s over there. I’ll let you choose which way we go.” She bit his earlobe, worrying it gently with her teeth before she whispered, “I know which direction I’d pick.”
He grunted, beyond speech, and threw her over his shoulder. Upside down, she spanked his beautiful ass and laughed, happy for the first time since Miguel had arrived, as Alex marched her into the bedroom.
4
Alex gently squeezed Sofia as she drifted in and out of sleep in his arms. She was exquisite in every way, from her perfect body to her open desires. She knew what she wanted, and he was happy to oblige every whim. Anything to make her smile, make her gasp, make her gaze soften with the haze of desire.
Something had changed, however, between his appointment and his arrival at her apartment. She’d made it clear she still wanted him, but the joy she’d exhibited earlier was missing.
Maybe it wasn’t right to pry, but he brought the image of the note into his mind, closed his eyes, and read it. His Spanish was good enough that he could walk the streets of Madrid and be mistaken for a local, but his European training didn’t help much with South Texas slang. He could follow the gist of the letter, though, and it made him frown in consternation. It seemed simple enough, a basic thinking-of-you from Marcos, the jaguar leader, to one of his pack. Nothing there to cause her upset.
Really, nothing in the note couldn’t have been said in a quarter as many words over email or even less in a text. So unless the leader of the Texas pack made a habit of writing pointless letters, the missive contained an embedded message.
He scowled in disappointment. Embedded messaging wasn’t his forte, but he’d figure it out. He stroked Sofia’s arm from shoulder to elbow, delighting in the softness of her skin. Helping restore her joy was worth the small effort of figuring out the message and then so many things more.
At his caress, she hummed and turned. Her eyes were puffy, as if she’d been crying.
Fearful emotion swept him. He hadn’t caused her distress, had he? Her cheek was damp as he wiped away a new tear. “What is it? Did I…?” He touched the healing mark on her hip where he’d bitten her. She’d asked him to, and he’d been ecstatic to oblige.
CoVIn vampires called the blood of a true lover rosso amore, red love. Its sweetness made the blood of anyone else taste like ash. As a Liberi vampire, Alex hadn’t been able to feel enough real emotion to experience it.
Then tonight, the first drop of Sofia’s blood that hit his tongue had filled him with exquisite bliss. He needed her. He’d do anything for her if she’d just tell him what. He touched his forehead to hers. “What can I do?”
She huffed a small laugh and swiped at her own face with a fist. “I must look a mess. Makeup trailing everywhere.”
He grabbed her hand and ran it through a line of red kisses on his chest all the way to his favorite, the red ring around his cock. God knew how marked his face was with her kisses. It was beautiful. “I’m a zealous fan of your makeup trails.”
“You are…” She tugged his hand, and he obliged, sliding on top of her. “Why did you have to be so amazing?”
Her body squirmed under his, and every part of him hardened to attention, ready for more. “I apologize for my amazingness. Would you like me to try again?” He meant it as a joke, but she fisted his hair and pulled his head to hers for a fierce kiss.
“Yes. I want you again.” She reached between them and took hold of him. “God, you’re already hard. Please. Be in me. Move in me again.”
Every thought in his head scattered to focus on one thing—obeying her. He rose on his elbows
and plunged home, as anxious as she was to connect. Her tight wetness surrounded him, and he moaned her name. He would never get enough of her, his angel whose voice had guided him to his soul. Nothing in life or death had felt so right. He kissed her again.
Her hands sought to push him away as if she would fuck him without touching. Never again; he’d spent too many years without meaningful touch. He took her wrists and pinned them above her head so he could kiss a lazy path from her forehead, across her eyes, and to her chin in time with the slow thrust of his hips.
“You’re killing me,” she whispered.
“Tell me how I can heal you.”
Instead of answering she grunted and locked her ankles around his hips. With the better leverage, she ground against him, driving him faster into rapture. He cupped her breast and teased her distended nipple until she panted.
“Bite me. On the neck.”
“The neck?” Liberi bit on the neck. CoVIn vampires rarely did. There were too many ways to do serious damage—muscles, major arteries, the throat. Miss by a little or go a fraction too deep, and somebody died. He wasn’t worried he’d miss, but it was one thing to break the rules and bite her on the hip. Even if word got around—which it wouldn’t, but if it did—Cash would overlook the charge. It was quite another thing to take her neck.
“Do it. No one will know. It’ll heal before tomorrow night. I want your mark where I can see it in the morning. I want to see and remember how you tasted me as I came.”
She wants to see my mark. Unable to deny her, he thrust into her sex and buried his face against her neck. She smelled delightful, jasmine soap, iron of blood, the salty scent of female sex. He let his fangs grow, and the rush of sensation exploded as his full senses came online. Each beat of her heart pounded a drumbeat. Her blood pulsed hot within her veins. Each hair on her skin stood out in sharp relief, swaying with the breeze of the fan. And around his cock, the soft wetness of her surrounded and milked him, bringing his fractured psyche to joyful communion with her.
Right above her collarbone, he swirled his tongue. She moaned encouragement. He sank his teeth in, carefully feeling his way.
She cried in the pleasure of pain, and the blood slipped across his tongue, salty and hot. He drank, head spinning in dizzy joy.
She called his name, shattering around him. Her cunt squeezed him so tightly, released and squeezed again. He licked his mark and nuzzled into her extraordinary hair. With her taste on his tongue and her smell in his nose, he followed her in ecstasy. He called her name as the world imploded into one focus, one focus he wanted forever—her.
Gasping for breath, he shuddered over her as the last of the frenzied joy played across his skin.
He checked the bite. It was fine. Visible without an unfortunately high neckline. He hadn’t hurt her.
Satisfied, he rolled off of her, ready to cuddle her until sunrise. As a nocturnal creature, she had thick drapes. He could sunsleep here, and Cash would cover for him if anyone at CoVIn noticed his absence.
He pulled her, trying to drag her perfect body across the vast chasm of millimeters separating them. Her breath rasped out in near-painful sounding gasps, and she didn’t move at his tug.
He raised his head. Was she crying again?
She was. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. What in the hell?
“Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She sat, the motion too sudden and too rigid. “Not a bit. Thank you, everything was lovely.”
“Lovely?” He was thinking epic—maybe life changing. Not “lovely.”
She wiped her tears again and sniffed back more. “What time is it? I imagine you need to go before sunrise catches you.” Abruptly, she shoved the covers away and stood.
Her ass was exquisite in the moonlight shining past the drapes. He should probably quit staring at it. His faculties were still scrambled, but he had the impression he was being ejected. The impression was furthered when she tossed his clothes at him. He caught the first item reflexively and let the rest drop onto the sheets. “What did I do wrong?”
She stopped searching for whatever article was missing and blinked at him as if she had no idea what he was talking about.
He sat up. “I am being kicked out. What did I do?”
She frowned. “I’m not kicking you. Dawn’s coming. I don’t want you to fall into sunsleep behind the wheel of your car and turn to ash when the sun strikes you.”
Or he could stay here, but that possibility didn’t seem to dawn on her. Although he supposed staying would strand him here until dusk. CoVIn’s parking garage was underground; a vampire could get to his car without catching a stray beam and, if he had the right tinted windows, drive away. Here, he’d have to walk through a parking lot. She might have things to do and didn’t want him in her space for the next twelve hours. Okay, it made sense for him to leave. Yet her actions didn’t feel like a friendly good-bye. It felt like a brush-off. He yanked his undershirt over his head. Her gaze followed the movement, and he’d swear regret haunted her eyes.
Regret didn’t have to be there. He’d be here whenever she wanted, shirt on, off, or halfway between. Whatever made her happy and kept him in her presence longer. He snagged his boxers and slid them on. Whatever was happening with her not-a-cousin was screwing his chances with her, and it was driving him crazy to know what was going on. He ignored the rest of his clothes and marched to her. “Sofia.”
She managed a smile, but it didn’t look real. “Yes?”
“What is happening?”
She shrugged, gorgeous in her nudity with her long hair dangling to her waist. “You had your dinner date. I had my distraction. We both got what we wanted.”
The night they’d shared had been amazing, but it was nowhere near the end of what he wanted. “Sofia…” He reached for her, running one hand over the curve of her hip to her ass and the other hand to her shoulder.
She backed away, denying his touch when five minutes ago he’d had every permission he craved.
He balled his fists. “Please. Talk to me.”
Her eyes widened, and he braced for another lie. She swallowed. “I can’t tell you. I’m sorry. I thought we could work. I found out I was wrong.” This time when he reached for her hand, she let him take it. “It’s my fault. I’m not…” She hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “I’m not good enough at life. I’m sorry I can’t say more, but it would betray my pack to speak.”
At least she was talking to him, even if he hated every word she was saying. “Did they forbid you from seeing me?”
She squeezed his hand. “No, no. Nothing like that. I can’t date you without lying to you. The kind of lies I would hate someone for telling me. I have given all I can honestly give you.” She stepped closer to him, the false cold dropping from her expression to reveal warmth and regret. “I’m sorry I’m crying. How good we are hurts because I know I can’t have more.”
He gripped her hand harder, willing her to let him in further. He wanted to be her champion. “Tell me what’s wrong. Let me help.”
She kissed him once on the right and then on the left. He’d barely registered what she was doing before it was over. “Please, don’t make me regret my honesty, and just go.”
5
“Relax, mija. You’re here to have a good time.” Miguel looked dapper in his crisply pressed red button-down and black zoot pants with suspenders. He’d forgone the iconic zoot suit jacket, but kept the chains dangling against his right leg and replaced his usual bandanna with a fedora. “This is easy pickings. I’ve got it.”
“You look like a pachuco.” A gang member. Which, she supposed, most people would consider him to be. She never thought of the pack as a gang, but from an outside perspective, maybe it wasn’t too different.
“That’s the point. I have to look stylin’ enough to be here, but obvious enough people know where to go for what they want.”
The elevator opened to the forty-third floor. At the end of the hall, a bouncer checked t
he guest list as each person entered. Sofia was, miraculously, on an exclusive list. After the atrium battle, she’d become friends with Rhiannon Flynn, Cash’s new witch-in-training. They’d discovered a mutual fandom for Dex Reed, and Rhi had used her CoVIn contacts to score them invites.
Rhiannon would probably kill Sofia—or at least never speak to her again—if she found out Sofia’s date was a coke dealer. They’d bonded over both being foster kids, but while Sofia had been sent from Colombia to Texas to be raised in stability, Rhi and her big brother had bounced in and out of the system as their mother’s meth addiction waxed and waned. Sometimes Sofia was jealous Rhi still got to see her mother. They lived together, Rhi taking care of her mom as much or more than her mom took care of her. Then her mom would have a crazy week, sending Rhi into a downward spiral, and Sofia thought maybe her cut-and-dried move was better for her mental health than the yo-yo Rhi was still riding at twenty-four.
It would’ve definitely been better if the move had meant Sofia could extricate herself entirely from the cartel. The more she got involved, the more it made the trauma of moving to Texas seem pointless. Sure, poverty here was a helluva lot better than poverty in Colombia, but every single person who’d told her she was lucky to have “gotten out” clearly had never been ripped from their family. Those people didn’t have to wonder every morning if today was the day they learned of another funeral they couldn’t attend for a person they had never said good-bye to. Not a day went by that she didn’t miss her parents and her three older brothers.
“Mierda. I can’t do this.”
Miguel grabbed her shoulder and turned her around. There was real panic in his voice as he switched to Spanish. “No way. I bought an extra half kilo for tonight. You can’t back out on me now.”
Her jaw dropped and she leaned in, whispering in Spanish, “A half kilo? Are you fucking kidding me?”
He shrugged. “It’s South by Southwest. Everybody’s buying in bulk.”