Zane’s Redemption

by Tina Folsom

  Portia shook her head. “When he kissed me …” Her world had turned upside down with that one kiss. She’d suddenly realized what she’d missed out on all these years.

  “You can do better than him,” Lauren claimed.

  “Funny, he said the same thing.” But she didn’t buy it. Why would any man who was attracted to her—and he clearly was—turn down her offer of no-strings-attached sex? “He’s out of his mind.”

  Lauren raised her eyebrows. “You both are! You can’t do this, not with somebody like him. I mean, can you imagine his bald head hovering over you while he’s … eww!”

  “I find his head attractive, and actually, I think he’s quite sensitive there.” It hadn’t escaped her that he’d shuddered when she’d caressed his scalp. And how he’d wanted her to do it again.

  “Eww!” Lauren waved her hands before her face. “Erase, erase, erase! You can’t sleep with him.”

  “Don’t go all Mother Teresa on me. Besides, he turned me down. I mean, can you believe it? As if I were some ugly duckling.” It had hurt having put herself out there only to be coldly rejected.

  “He what?”

  “You heard right.”

  “What an asshole! He has no business rejecting you. He should be grateful that you even considered him. Who does he think he is?”

  The hottest guy she’d ever laid eyes on, Portia wanted to scream but refrained from the urge, not wanting to give Lauren more ammunition to use against her.

  “Exactly,” she tossed out instead.

  “He can’t get away with that! How dare he treat you like you’re a wallflower? Jerk!” Lauren pounded her fist on the table, making the trays on it rattle. A student sitting close by glanced at them, before dropping his head back into his book.

  “You can have any man you want, Portia.” Lauren let her eyes glide over Portia’s body. “You’re pretty, you have a great body, nice boobs. Any guy would be happy to do you.”

  Portia cringed at the crude words.

  “Sorry,” Lauren said sheepishly. “I’m just calling it the way it is.”

  “Right.” But Portia didn’t want any guy; she wanted Zane.

  He was the first man who’d ever made her feel anything. Her body had hummed under his touch, his kiss so searing hot she’d thought she’d go up in flames. With him, she wasn’t afraid that her first time would be some tepid, clinical affair. If Zane touched her and made her a woman, she knew she would enjoy it despite what he’d warned her about.

  She didn’t believe that he would be cruel to her. His kiss hadn’t been cruel. On the contrary, he’d coaxed her. Yes, he’d been demanding, but he’d waited until she’d allowed him to go further. And when he’d licked her fangs, she’d practically exploded. She’d had no idea how arousing it was to have another vampire caress her fangs like this. With so much gentleness, yet so much passion.

  “What will I do now?” Portia lifted her head and stared at her friend.

  Lauren gave a resigned smile. “Are you sure I can’t talk you out of this?”

  Portia nodded. “I want him.”

  “What exactly did he say when he rejected you? And be specific; don’t leave anything out. Every word is important.”

  Trusting in her friend’s experience with men, Portia nudged forward on her chair and lowered her voice. There was no need for anybody to overhear what she had to say.

  Chapter Twelve

  When Portia heard the front door opening without having heard a car drive up, she knew it was Zane. She wondered why he didn’t drive but walked instead. It could only mean that he didn’t live far. She made a mental note to put Lauren on the task of finding out where he lived. She was sure that Lauren, as the mayor’s daughter, had a way of finding out Zane’s address. There was a chance it could come in handy one day. She wasn’t going to leave anything up to chance.

  Portia glanced in the mirror. Her low-rider jeans showed off her flat stomach, and the t-shirt was at least a size too small and short enough to leave her midriff bare while it stretched tightly over her boobs. She had to admit that Lauren was right: she had decent boobs, full and round, and actually a little more shapely than most of her fellow students.

  As a hybrid, she had developed faster during her teens, and her body was more mature than that of a nearly twenty-one-year-old human. Just as well: it would be dreadful to be stuck with a gangly teenage body for the rest of her life. But the body she had now, she could work with.

  One way or another, Zane would give in to her. Even if she had to throw herself at him. She had five weeks left, and during those five weeks she would chisel away his resistance. No man could be that stoic and say no to something that was dangled in front of his nose every single night, not even Zane. He would crack sooner or later. Did that make her just a tad desperate?

  Portia blew out a big breath and planted her legs wider apart, placed her hands on her hips and tried a seductive look in the mirror. She cringed. Maybe she needed a little more practice with that look. It didn’t appear quite right yet, unless Zane was turned on by a cheesy grin accompanied by some waggling eyebrows. Maybe some more lipstick, she mused, and twisted the cap off her latest acquisition. As she dabbed her lips with more of the blood-red color, she knew she couldn’t stall any longer. The night wouldn’t last forever, and eventually Zane would be gone to be replaced by Oliver again.

  Her hands clammy, she turned the door handle and left her room. Her heart beat so loudly, she was sure Zane could hear it downstairs in the living room. Slowly, she walked down the stairs, her bare feet making barely any sound. Only the creaking of several steps echoed through the old house. When she reached the landing, she could tell from Zane’s stiff posture sitting in an armchair that he’d already heard her.

  “Hi.”

  He looked up briefly, muttering an indistinguishable greeting, and lowered his head again to read the magazine he was holding. Or pretend to read. His eyes didn’t appear to move from left to right, but seemed to stare at some random spot on the page.

  Zane wore what he always wore: tight-fitting jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt, and boots that looked like he could kick the shit out of someone with them. His leather coat hung over a chair near the entrance. And damn it if that simple outfit didn’t make him look like sex-on-a-stick. Why Lauren insisted his bald head was unattractive, Portia didn’t understand. She had, in fact, never seen anybody who carried the loss of hair off the way Zane did, with his ‘take it or leave it’ kind of attitude, as if he didn’t give a shit what anybody thought of him. Maybe that’s what she liked most about him.

  Liked? That was too strong a word. She didn’t really ‘like’ him—more like she had the hots for him—and that was a totally different cup of tea. ‘Like’ had nothing to do with it.

  “Are you done looking?” Zane grunted.

  Shit! She hated it when he called her on it like that. She could only hope that she hadn’t been drooling.

  “Not much to see; you’re wearing too many clothes.”

  His head shot up, his narrowed eyes glaring at her. “That kind of talk is dangerous.”

  She took a few steps in his direction, easing closer. “Afraid of me?” Surprised at her own boldness, her pulse beat faster and more erratic than before.

  He scoffed. “Don’t you have homework to do, baby girl?”

  Annoyance kicked in, lending her courage. “If you think by calling me ‘baby girl’ you can fool yourself into thinking I’m not a grown woman, go ahead.”

  Zane’s knuckles gripping the magazine turned white. She was clearly getting to him, just as she’d anticipated. Unfortunately, however, instead of turning him on, she was pissing him off. Perhaps she wasn’t that good on the flirting front. And why would she be? She’d never felt the need to flirt with anyone before, so she’d never bothered.

  “I don’t care if you’re a grown woman. How often do I have to repeat myself? I’m NOT INTERESTED in you!”

  Shocked by his violent outburst, she swiveled on h
er heels and headed for the kitchen. “Liar,” she mumbled to herself before she tore the door open and went for the fridge.

  Well, that was going brilliantly! Lauren had warned her that a man like Zane wouldn’t be swayed easily. After this disaster she had to check in with her friend to see how she should proceed now. Lauren had a lot more experience with men. She would come up with something to salvage the situation.

  Portia grabbed a coke, needing the sugar and caffeine rush, and closed the fridge door.

  A split-second later, she found herself pressed against the cool stainless steel surface. Zane’s face was inches from hers. The coke can dropped from her grip and landed on the floor, making a loud noise on the tiles.

  His teeth clenched, Zane issued his warning, “Never call me a liar!”

  Her chest heaved from the sudden effort of breathing, her boobs pressing against his lean body with each breath, her nipples chafing and reacting instantly. When she tilted her hips forward, one realization infused her with courage to speak: he was sporting an erection.

  “I’d call you lover, but you give me no choice.”

  Zane closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring at the same moment. “I’ll never be your lover,” he countered, all anger drained from his toneless voice. “Go play with somebody else before you start something you can’t handle.”

  He thought she couldn’t handle him? He was wrong! She would prove it to him.

  Abruptly, Zane released his hold on her, but before he could step back, she framed his face with her hands and pressed her lips to his.

  “Don’t,” he whispered but didn’t pull back.

  Portia licked her tongue over the seam of his lips, urging him to surrender. A thrill charged through her body when Zane moved. His lips parted, and the next moment she felt herself sandwiched between the fridge door and his hard body.

  Her hands dropped from his face to wrap around his neck, making sure he wouldn’t change his mind.

  “You’ll regret this,” he murmured against her lips.

  “I won’t.”

  “I know I will.” But despite his contradicting comment, he stroked his tongue against her lips before he delved into her, capturing her mouth in a move indicating ultimate possession. He held her so tightly, not even with her hybrid strength would she have been able to escape him had she wanted to.

  Zane kissed her as if he wanted to punish her, his tongue the whip that lashed her until she was raw, his lips the ties that bound her to him as his hands traveled over her torso in a frantic race to touch every inch before either of them had a change of mind.

  Tasting the raw hunger in his kiss, the obvious desperation to possess and devour, Portia’s heart recognized her own need: to give herself to this man, this vampire, and to surrender to her desires, desires she’d never felt before. Everything was new and unknown. How had she lived until now without knowing what a touch and a kiss could do, how it could consume a person like a wildfire consumed a forest, leaving nothing behind but a charred surface?

  That’s how she felt, her skin seared as if hot lava touched her instead of the sensual long fingers of the most enticing man—human or vampire—she’d ever met. And those fingers did things to her, incredible things, exciting things: their touch was poison and soothing medicine all at once, first stirring up her insides, then calming them.

  Their rhythm matched her breath, the tremors inside her reaching earthquake levels. Wherever Zane’s body connected with hers, she burned—and burned for more. Like an addict, she pulled him closer, moaning her approval and her surrender in one breath. Yet he didn’t seem to understand, continuing to unleash his devastating sexual prowess onto her when he could have stripped her of her clothes already and be driving into her without preamble.

  Portia ripped her lips from his. “Take me now.”

  Zane didn’t listen. His response was a growl, a sound only an animal could make. His eyes were glowing a deep orange, and his breath rushed from his lungs. Without a response, he took her mouth again, continuing where he’d left off as is she’d never interrupted.

  Trying to ease the ache between her thighs, Portia drew up one leg and wrapped it around his thigh, making him press closer. She felt the hard outline of his erection against her soft core and rubbed herself against him, trying to find relief.

  A groan rumbled from his chest and reverberated against her ribcage. One of his hands went to her backside, hauling her fully against him, increasing the friction between their bodies.

  She went on tip toes to feel his erection pressing lower where her clit throbbed in concert with her heartbeat. Her hands went to his ass, her nails digging into the jeans she wished he wasn’t wearing.

  All of a sudden, Zane lifted her, forcing her legs farther apart, compelling her to wrap them around his hips as he thrust against her.

  The fridge behind her rattled, containers inside tumbling from the shelves. She didn’t care. Every time he thrust, his cock hit that little bundle of nerves that was swollen and aching for release. All she could think of was for him not to stop, for this never to end.

  “I need …” she whimpered against his lips, unable to control her body’s reactions any longer.

  A moment later, she felt his fangs grazing her lip, nipping slightly. Her nose detected blood, but her tongue would never taste it, because Zane licked her blood off her lips and swallowed it.

  “Fuck!” he cursed and closed his eyes.

  She didn’t know what he meant, nor did she care. “More!” As her hips ground against him, his cock dragging over her clit with every movement, she pulled his head back to her.

  Ding Dong! Ding Dong!

  No, not now! She would ignore it. Portia pressed her lips onto Zane’s, hoping he hadn’t heard the sound in his lust-drugged state, but he pulled back. In the next instant, she stood on her own two feet again, feet that were shaking uncontrollably, her entire body trembling with need.

  “No!” she protested. She reached for him, but he turned his back to her.

  “Fuck!” she heard him curse under his breath as he stalked out of the kitchen without another word or a look.

  ***

  He’d lost it.

  Portia had called him a liar, and she’d been right. But he hadn’t wanted to see the truth. So he’d punished her for finding him out, and punished himself even more. Because knowing what it would be like with her, yet having to make sure it never happened was going to kill him. It was as certain as a stake through his heart.

  A second longer of feeling her legs around him, of smelling her arousal and tasting her hot lips, and he would have torn her clothes to shreds with his claws and fucked her against the cold steel of the refrigerator, not caring that she was a virgin who needed gentle, not rough.

  Using his shirt sleeve, Zane wiped the sweat off his forehead. Shit! What the fuck was he going to do now? He couldn’t continue this assignment. Every second in Portia’s company would be torture. And what if she provoked him again? Would he simply take what he craved? And once she realized how savage he was, would she change her mind? By then, it would be too late. He’d take it anyway—take what he considered his.

  He should never have bitten her lip and tasted her blood. That one drop had been enough to make his vampire side yearn for something he didn’t dare claim: a woman of his own. It wasn’t right. How could he expect to love and be loved when he lived only for hate and revenge?

  He wasn’t done with revenge yet. Justice still required one more kill, one more name to be added to the list of those who were responsible for so much misery, so much death, and for robbing him of the life he never got to live. He couldn’t give up now; he was too close.

  If he took Portia and gave into her, she would see deep into him, and she would hate him, because he’d feared for a while now that he’d become as bad as the men he’d been chasing. If she saw it, it would be confirmation. He couldn’t allow it. Nobody should see what lurked inside him, because he couldn’t face it himself.

&n
bsp; Ding Dong! Ding Dong! Ding Dong!

  The door bell rang more urgently, reminding Zane why he’d rushed out of the kitchen. He straightened and cleared his throat. Shit, he still had her taste on his tongue, and his cock pressed hard and heavy against his zipper, still expecting release. In vain.

  Through the spy hole in the door, he identified Thomas and Eddie. What the fuck did they want from him now? He wasn’t in the right frame of mind to deal with his colleagues now, particularly not with the ever cheerful young Eddie who was Amaury’s brother-in-law. Neither did he have the stomach for Thomas, the ever perceptive mentor who’d never done a wrong thing in his life—well, maybe just once when he’d hooked up with Milo, his lover who’d later betrayed him.

  “Listen, Zane,” Thomas suddenly said from behind her door, “we know you’re standing right there, so open the damn door.”

  There were times when Zane hated the enhanced senses every vampire possessed. Tonight was one of those times.

  He opened the door and moved aside, hoping that the smell of the old house would distract his colleagues from the scent of Portia that was all over his body and his clothes. But the moment Thomas walked in, wearing, as always, his biker duds, consisting of leather and more leather, the flaring of his nostrils and narrowing of his eyes were indication enough that he had noticed something. Figured.

  As Eddie followed Thomas and closed the door behind them, Zane glared at Thomas, silently daring him to make a nasty comment. Thomas’ age and experience won out over the impulse that sat clearly on his lips. Now all that had to happen was for Portia to stay out of the way and remain in the kitchen, so Thomas would know only that Zane wore the smell of a woman, not that it was the scent of the charge he was guarding.

  “What’s up?” Zane kept his jaw tight.

  “Hey, Zane,” Eddie greeted him and looked around.

  Thomas merely nodded. “I’m here to relieve you.”

  Relieve him? Shit! How could they already know what he’d done, how he’d violated Scanguards’ code of ethics?