by Dakota Rebel
I nodded at the bouncer guarding the curtain in question. I knew him but couldn’t remember his name. Not that it mattered. He wouldn’t have heard me if I’d tried to talk to him anyway. He just returned the nod as he pulled back the curtain, allowing me entrance.
The room was dark and packed with people. They were all in their club finest, smoking, drinking and pretending not to care that they were almost associating with famous people. Their illusion was ruined by their constant glances to the corner and incessant murmuring behind their hands.
I followed their looks and found Reagan and her juvenile partner in crime, Donna, sitting with the Axlerod boys. I shoved my way, not at all politely, toward them. The girls were too busy forcing Skip to pay attention to them to notice my approach, but Jarrod’s eyes never left me. He watched me like a lion must watch a gazelle. I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered or terrified.
“Mitch. How nice to see you again,” he yelled over the music.
“Reagan, we’re leaving.” I ignored Jarrod as best I could, which to be honest wasn’t that well. He was far too beautiful to be completely disregarded. But getting Reagan home was my only goal at that moment. Sexy vampires had to take the back burner.
The booth was so full that Reagan sat in a chair on the outside edge of it.
“Go to hell, Mitch,” she yelled. “I’m not leaving.”
“Yeah, Mitch. She’s having fun. Let her stay.” Skip slid his arm around her shoulder. “You look like you could stand to have a little fun yourself. I’m sure Jarrod would love to dance with you again. I hear you’re a fantastic dancer. Among other things you’re awfully good at.”
A look passed between Jarrod and Skip that I didn’t understand and didn’t really care to. I grabbed Reagan’s wrist, pulling her to her feet. She stumbled, and when she had herself steady, she swung to punch me. I stepped back, catching her arm and swooping in one motion to throw her over my shoulder. She gave a surprised shriek before starting to struggle free of me.
“Come on, Donna,” I called back to Reagan’s friend.
“If I don’t, are you going to pull a Hercules on me, too?”
“Now, Donna!”
She grabbed her bag and started climbing over Skip to get out of the booth. His hands grabbed her thighs, holding her straddling his lap.
“Donna is not your ward, Mitch. She can stay if she wants to,” Skip said before pulling her face down to kiss him.
“You’re absolutely right, Skip. I’ll just have her mother come get her instead. Goodnight everyone, it’s been…” I didn’t know what it had been so I just turned around to leave, running straight into Jarrod.
We stared at each other for a full minute, him smiling softly while I tried to decide if it was a bad idea to knock him unconscious and stake him right there. I knew it would probably make everything so much easier. But the moment passed.
“Stay the fuck away from my sister, Jarrod.” I walked past him, my shoulder bumping his. I tightened my grip on Reagan’s legs so she couldn’t squirm away as I forced my way back through the throng of people. Donna caught up to us just as I was walking out the front door.
“Whoa there, Mitch. I wouldn’t think she was your type,” Chuck called after me.
I turned with a glare on my face. “The next time you let my seventeen-year-old sister in here, I’ll let the cops come pick her up instead.”
“Eighteen-year-old sister,” Reagan whimpered.
I rolled my eyes and led the underage parade to my car. I wanted to get out of the area before the Axlerods decided they weren’t ready for the party to end.
“I’m going to be sick if you don’t put me down, Mitch,” Reagan said softly.
Donna opened the back door so I could dump Reagan into the car. “Reagan, are you listening to me?” I asked.
She nodded weakly.
“If you throw up in my car, you’re cleaning it up. Tonight. Okay?”
She nodded again, apparently too drunk to realize it was exactly what she had said to me when she’d driven me home after seven too many drinks. I closed the door with a heavy sigh. I got behind the wheel as Donna climbed into the passenger seat next to me.
I pulled into traffic, completely at a loss on where to go from there. I was wicked pissed at Reagan, but I wasn’t taking her home to Mom. She was an adult now…of sorts. In fact, if she had been out with anyone but Jarrod Axlerod, I might have even just let her stay.
I wasn’t sure how I would explain to her what the hell my problem was. I’d covered for her with our parents many times before. She wouldn’t believe it didn’t have anything to do with the company she kept. I couldn’t exactly tell her the lead singer of her favorite band was a serial killer, or that I wanted him more than she ever could.
I glanced over and found Donna intently stared at me. Great.
“What?”
“Would you really have called my mom?”
“Maybe. To be honest, I was hoping you would just come with us so I wouldn’t have to.”
“Are we going back to your place?” She sounded entirely too excited about the idea.
“I don’t think so. Where does your mom think you’re staying tonight?”
“At home. I have to be there by two. She knew I was going out with Reagan for her birthday so I got an extra late curfew. But I’m sure if I called her and told her that Reagan’s older brother wants us to stay with him because it’s too late to drive us all the way to the house, she wouldn’t have a problem with it. I’d much rather crash with you, Mitch.” Her hand gripped my thigh, startling me so badly I almost swerved into oncoming traffic.
“That’s, um, really flattering Donna. But you’re not my type. Don’t you think you’re a little young for me?” I picked up her hand off my leg, moving it back to her side of the car.
“I’m more mature than you think I am.”
“I’m sure you’re very mature, Donna. But you’re still only seventeen years old. I don’t date my little sister’s friends. It’s a rule.”
“Besides, Donna, you don’t have a cock.” Reagan poked her head between the seats.
“Shut up, Reagan,” I warned her.
“What is she talking about?” Donna stared at me again, her eyes wide.
“My brother,” she paused to kiss my cheek, “is a big queer. A raging homosexual. Haven’t I ever told you that? He sucks more cock than you do.” She dissolved into giggles. I pushed her back into her seat, not sure if I wanted to laugh or hit her.
“Put on your fucking seatbelt, and shut up.”
“That is so hot,” Donna whispered. Wonderful, my sister and her little friend could be fag hags together. Her hand gripped my leg again, and I had to smile as I unlatched her fingers. What a freakin’ night.
“Donna, can Reagan crash at your place tonight, please?”
“Sure.” She dropped back into her seat, seemingly unaffected by the rejection. “My mom won’t care.” She gave me directions and managed to keep her hands to herself all the way to her house. Yay.
When we pulled up out front, I helped Reagan out of the car, made her and Donna promise that Reagan would be home on time in the morning, then I kissed them both on their foreheads and sent them on their way. I just wanted to get to my loft, take another shower and climb into bed. Teenagers were fucking exhausting.
I didn’t know what I would do if Jarrod really planned on staying in town for any length of time. I was terrified he would pursue me, making it very difficult for me to plan a surprise attack on him. Or worse, that Reagan would keep tracking him down, trying to get him to pay attention to her until he up and killed her, too.
You would think that growing up with a gay brother would have given the girl a better gaydar, but no, she probably had no idea that Jarrod would never be interested in her. Not in the way she wanted anyway. I needed to finish this job quick. Before anyone else got hurt.
I drove the rest of the way home on autopilot. My progress report was due soon, but I had nothing to say
. I’d gone to the concert, studied some pictures, rescued my kid sister at a club and met half of the hit’s family. Oh, and I had gone down on the hit in the backroom of a bar. That wasn’t really what the powers-that-be were looking for. And if another body turned up before I made any progress on the kill, I’d be in deep shit.
I parked the car then dragged myself up the stairs. Once inside the apartment, I headed straight for the shower. Scalding hot water had never felt so good. I stood under the massaging head, letting it beat on my shoulders and neck, trying to relax into it. My muscles were tense, and if they didn’t loosen up a little before I went to bed, I would be sore as hell in the morning. As the water started going cool, which happened pretty quickly in my building, I finally gave up. It would take a lot more than water to ease away my tension.
I was drying myself when I heard a knock at the door. I tried to ignore it, hoping whoever it was would just go away. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and I was pretty sure Reagan was passed out at Donna’s. I sighed as the knocking grew louder. I grabbed my jeans from the floor, struggling to get them up my damp thighs. I ran to the door, throwing it open just as the fist was poised to strike again.
Chapter Five
Jarrod stood in the hallway dressed in black jeans, a tight black T-shirt that barely reached his waist, and a happy look on his face.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
He just smiled at me. His gaze dropped to my bare chest, and I wished I had taken the time to put on a shirt or, at the very least, finished drying off. I certainly hadn’t planned on being in any state of undress with him ever again.
“Jarrod?”
He looked back up into my eyes.
“Why are you here?”
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“Do you really need an invitation?”
He sighed, pushing me back into the apartment with a hand on my chest. He followed me inside, kicking shut the door behind him.
“No, but it’s more polite that way. You don’t look happy to see me, Mitch.”
“And you look entirely too happy to be here.” I hoped I came off nonchalant or, at least, minutely apathetic. He looked so fucking good. What I really wanted to ask him was why he still had pants on.
He smirked then started walking around the living room. He paused at a cluster of picture frames on a shelf over the television.
“Nice family. They all look so happy.” He picked up one, studying it for a minute before putting it back. “Why aren’t you in any of them?”
“I’ve been busy.” I sat on the arm of a chair and watched him take his self-guided tour of my life in pictures.
“Some of these are really old. Reagan can’t be more than five in this one.”
“Don’t.” It came out as more of a growl than I’d meant it to be.
He arched an eyebrow at me. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t talk about my sister. Don’t look at her. Don’t even think about her.” I was halfway to him before I realized I’d even stood at all.
“Calm down,” he said, turning back to the shelf. “I just meant that you’ve been busy for a long time.”
Hearing him say her name had brought memories of the photos sitting on my desk. I’d had a vicious mental flash of him holding her bloody, limp body in his arms. No, I didn’t want him to remember she existed.
“You still haven’t told me why you’re here,” I said with a sigh.
“Maybe, I just wanted to see you again. You’ve run out on me twice since figuring out I’m the masked man you…danced with the other night. I’m going to start thinking you don’t like me.”
“How did you know where I live?”
“Maybe I’m a good guesser.” He walked closer to me, stopping within a breath of actually touching me as he had done the night of the concert. And just like that night, I wanted to touch him. It was harder to stand still than it would have been to just move my hand a fraction of an inch toward him. This was like our first meeting. I almost moved instinctively but caught myself before actually doing it.
“Or I followed you home from the club tonight.” His voice had gone soft, and I felt his breath on my skin with every word.
“Why?”
He smiled. “You’re like a child, so curious about everything. Yet you’re so cynical and so untrusting.”
He moved as if to kiss me, but I stepped backward, placing enough space between us to secure my false sense of safety. The smirk on his face at my action showed that he knew what I was thinking, that I knew I wasn’t really safe as long as he was in this room, but he stayed where he was.
I had to admit to myself that I hadn’t moved out of fear but to keep myself from touching him. I wanted to, but if I did, I knew I’d be done fighting. I would forget who he was, what he had done and, worse, what I was supposed to do. I would forget everything but the feel of him. The taste of him. The smell of him.
Thinking about the job helped clear my head more than moving away from him had. The number one rule—okay, number two—was “never fuck the hit”. Number one was “don’t get bit”. Staring at him, I realized this would be the first time the second rule would be harder one to follow.
In a fight to the death, you don’t want any part of the monsters inside you. But teeth and claws happen, it’s an occupational hazard, less so with fleshier bits of their bodies. Jarrod and I weren’t fighting, not yet, but he was still a danger to me.
If I just stayed focused until I got him out of the apartment, I would be fine. If I just forced myself to remember what he’d done, then maybe, the urge to run my fingers along his jaw would fade.
I couldn’t do anything about breaking the rule, but I could lie to myself and say that he wasn’t my hit when it had happened. I could split the hair even finer if I had to and say that we’d never actually fucked. I knew it was ridiculous, but sometimes you have to lie to yourself to get the job done.
“Hey, Captain America.” His voice brought me back to attention. “You look like you’re going to eat me. And not in the fun way.”
“I’m just waiting for you to tell me why you’re really here. It’s late, I’m tired and I hate playing games.”
“I bet I know some games you’d like to play.” He took a step forward again.
“I doubt it.” I walked across the room to the couch, as close to the door as I could get without actually standing in front of it or walking out of it.
“You don’t know me well enough to be this afraid of me,” he said, watching me with that predatory gaze again.
“You’d be surprised what I know. Besides, it’s always wise not to trust vampires who barge into your home for no good reason.”
“Who says I don’t have a good reason?”
“You haven’t given me one.”
He stretched his arms above his head, the movement pulling up his shirt to bare two inches of flawless pale skin at his middle.
“Stop it.” My voice was weaker than I would have preferred. I was pretty sure he could smell my desire for him, but I wasn’t looking to confirm it aloud.
He kept his arms up, bent at the elbows with his hands behind his head. I think he was trying to give me his innocent face, but all I saw in his eyes was sex. I had to drop my gaze to the floor, not wanting to reflect that look for him, not wanting him to see it.
He startled me by lifting my face with a finger under my chin, forcing me to look at him. I hadn’t even heard him move toward me. “I came here because I want you. Why can’t that be enough?”
“Because you don’t even know me.”
“You’d be surprised what I know.” His voice was light, teasing. He ran his hand up my jaw and through my hair.
“Cute.” I sighed, knocking his hand away. “Don’t you have a coffin to get back to?” I wanted him gone. If he left, I could go in my office and figure out how to kill him. It would be easier to forget his perfect skin and his intoxicating scent, if I could just hold the pictures of his victims in my han
ds again.
“Dawn is hours away. Besides, you don’t want me to go. Not really.”
“You know, conceit is not attractive.”
“This isn’t conceit. It’s surety.” He dropped to his knees in front of me, his hands gripping my thighs. I stared at him, my fists clenched at my sides in an attempt to avoid taking his head in my hands.
He rubbed his chin up the fly of my jeans, that smug smile back on his lips. Even without my body betraying me, he knew I wanted him. I wondered if he knew just how badly.
“Touch me,” he whispered.
I shook my head, not trusting my voice. If I touched him, I wouldn’t stop. If I felt that thick blond hair between my fingers again, he would own me. And we both knew it.
“Touch me.” His voice was louder, stronger this time. “Fine, if you won’t touch me, I’ll just have to touch you more. Or touch more of you.”
“How can you be this old and still be such a brat?” My voice was just as soft and cracked as I had expected it to be, but I was beginning to care less and less about how wrong the situation was in direct correlation to how close he was to me.
He smiled so wide that his fangs peeked out from between his full, red lips. “Just lucky, I guess.”
I wanted to kiss him. Even with his fangs in full view, I wanted to drop to my knees, grab his face and force my mouth on his. I wanted to taste him again, feel him pressed to me, even if it was just one more time. My legs swayed with the power of that desire, and I knew he saw it, too. He slid his hands around my body, cupping my ass and pulling my jean-clad erection against his mouth.
He exhaled heavily. The hot breath against my cock made my body shudder, and my knees buckled completely. I put a hand on his shoulder to steady myself, my fingers grazing the skin of his neck. I let my hand travel up his neck, wind its way into his hair at the base of his skull and grip it tightly.
He’d pressed his face against me again, his tongue leaving wet kisses across the front of my jeans. He moaned loudly as I pulled his head backward, away from me, forcing him to look up at me.