Cunningham, Pat - Legacy [Sequel to Belonging] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Pat Cunningham

  “You can kiss my perky ass.”

  “You see what I mean?” Wallace said to Colleen. “If he wasn’t such a hot piece in bed I’d dump him.”

  “Can we get back on topic here?” Jeremy said. “Colleen’s life is in danger.”

  “Yeah, okay. First thing we do—”

  “First,” Colleen broke in, “you cut the crap right now. I’m done. I’m calling the police. I want—” She waved her hands helplessly and ended up resting her head in them. “I want to go home.”

  “Not a good idea,” Wallace said. “They know where you live. They’ve got your scent. They’re single-minded bastards. They’ll keep coming until they get you. You’d better stay somewhere else for a while.”

  “He’s got a point,” Jeremy chimed in. “You might not think so now, but you’d be safest here.”

  “What about Annie and Gus?” Wallace asked. “They’ve got the room, and they know what they’re doing. We could take her there.”

  “No, we can’t. Shayla’s there, too. We’re not putting her in danger.”

  “Shit, you’re right. Okay, it’s settled. The chick stays here.”

  “Colleen,” Jeremy reminded him tersely. “It won’t kill you to remember her name.”

  “Excuse me,” Colleen said. “Do I get a say in this?”

  They both looked at her and said in unison, “No.”

  “Look,” Jeremy went on, “I know this is a lot to throw at you at once. At least stay the night. We’ll try to figure something out in the morning.”

  She looked at them dubiously. Stay the night. Here. With two men whose nearness made her nerve endings tingle in a scarily erotic way. One of whom claimed to be a—no, screw that. She wouldn’t say that word again, not even in her head.

  It was Jeremy who decided her, and her longing—screw that, too, make it a need—to be near him. She trusted him completely, in spite of his outlandish claims. As for Wallace, maybe if she didn’t think about his teeth, she could make it through one night.

  “All right,” she said. “Just for tonight. Tomorrow I’m calling the police. And nobody mentions the V-word, okay?”

  “Got it.” Wallace grinned, this time without showing any teeth. “So, which of us do you want to ‘protect’ you? Scarecrow’s not big on human partners, but I’ll try anything once. Or twice. Or—”

  “Wallace!”

  “Okay, okay. I was just trying to lighten the mood. Jesus, Scarecrow. You take the fun out of everything.”

  Wallace withdrew to the kitchen to mutter and grouse while Jeremy helped Colleen out of the chair and shepherded her upstairs. He pointed out the bedroom and bath and the linen closet where she could get a fresh towel and washcloth. A closed door stood at his back, presumably to another bedroom. Maybe he and his vamp-obsessed hubby played Buffy and Spike in there. Colleen couldn’t summon the nerve to ask.

  By the time Colleen had finished a quick wash up, changed into the shirt Jeremy provided for a nightie, and crawled into the king-sized bed, she had to admit she felt better. All right, maybe “better” was a bit strong. Not as shell-shocked, then. The adrenaline rush must have worn off. She pulled the blankets around her to stave off the return of the chills. Just hold on, she told herself. Hold on until morning. Then she’d be able to think again.

  Except for when she looked into Jeremy’s eyes or listened to the growl of Wallace’s voice. Then rational thought took a back seat to other, more carnal reactions.

  It’s perfectly natural, she tried to convince herself. She’d now been attacked twice, and both times these two men had come to her rescue. She’d observed Jeremy with Shayla, and Wallace had killed both assailants on her behalf. The father and the protector, two basic traits the primitive female at the core of all women looked for in a mate. Throw in a hormonal explosion triggered by a brush with danger and small wonder her body had reverted to survival mode and gone all horny on her. They could be in their eighties, and she’d still lust after them. Simple human biology.

  Just her luck they were both sexy as all get-out. Between the two of them, she was rapidly turning into one big mass of jump-me-now.

  Quit it. Quit torturing yourself. They’re in love with each other. Think about something else.

  Unfortunately, the leftover something elses skirted true horror territory. The oily voice that oozed over her mind and tried to smother her will. A human body turned to ash. The sound of snarls and the sight of fangs better suited to animals. Colleen huddled farther under the covers. When the wave of shudders hit, she didn’t try to fight it.

  They couldn’t be vampires. Vampires didn’t exist.

  Indistinct images from her childhood poked their heads out of her mind’s deepest closet. She slammed the door in their faces. She’d been a kid. That hadn’t happened. If she looked into the closet too long, she might go crazy.

  Just like Mom.

  Bad. Bad thoughts. Never, never go there. She focused on the breathing exercises the therapist had taught her until her heart rate dropped closer to normal and the closet door was firmly sealed. She made her muscles relax and settled down to what she figured would be several hours of tossing and turning.

  She figured wrong. Reaction did indeed set in and sent her the mixed blessing of a troubled sleep in only twenty minutes.

  * * * *

  Wallace stood at the foot of the stairs until he heard the girl’s heartbeat quiet into a steady, slow rhythm. “She’s asleep,” he said to Jeremy. “Okay, spill. What the hell’s going on?”

  “You got me. I thought it was over after you staked the first one. It should have been over. Flocks don’t go after a victim en masse. This is way off the trail.”

  “No shit.” He could easily imagine the girl, as she must look now, lying in his and Jeremy’s bed. That long, dark cloud of hair, those rosy lips slightly parted, her smoky lids closed over the sparkle that lit her violet eyes. She smelled like sex and an ancient power that pulsed through her veins like blood. He pictured her naked and writhing between them, his mouth and Scarecrow’s hands on her body, how salty-sweet her skin would taste, the noises she’d make when they took her—

  Sweet Christ. What the fuck?

  Except for bouts of blood lust sex, which he barely remembered to start with, he hadn’t been with a woman in decades, undead or otherwise. He hadn’t missed it, either. Scarecrow took care of all his needs, thank you very much. He hadn’t had a chance to drink the bat tonight, so he couldn’t blame his body’s reactions on a blood overdose.

  It was her. It had to be her. Something about her made his prick sit up and beg. Deliberately, he moved away from the stairwell. Her heartbeat lingered in his ears, her blood-rich scent in his nostrils. He tried to tune it out by fixing his attention on Jeremy.

  “I think I’ve got an idea why they want her.”

  “Duh. For her blood.”

  “Simple answer, not the whole one. That asshole from the other night wasn’t in hunting mode. He was trying to abduct her. Assuming that’s what tonight’s asshole was after, we’ve got a flock that wants her alive.”

  Jeremy nodded acknowledgement of Wallace’s logic. “Blood bank?”

  “Could be. But why her in particular? I think I’ve got that sussed. I don’t know if your human nose can pick up on it, but to mine—dammit, she smells delicious, and not in a food way.” He gestured almost violently at the stairs. “You know what I was just thinking about over there?”

  Jeremy’s gaze dropped to Wallace’s bulging groin. “Yes.” His eyes shot back up to meet Wallace’s. “You’ve never responded to a woman that way since I’ve known you.”

  “It’s not just women. I haven’t reacted like this to anybody else since I got with you. Speaking of which…” Wallace smirked. “You feel it, too, don’t you? I’ve been watching you, Scarecrow. You can’t keep away from her.”

  Jeremy flushed. “She’s been through a lot in the past week. I wanted to comfort her. Is that a crime?”

  “Change ‘comfort’ to
‘fuck’ and I’ll buy it. You want to jump her bones so bad I can taste it from here. Which begs the question—since when? I know you inside and out. You’re a bat bitch. One hundred percent vampire-exclusive. You haven’t had a living partner in how long? Since you were in high school? So what’s with all this sudden panting lust for a breather, huh?”

  “I don’t want to sleep with her. How can I? You marked me. I’m yours. It’s just…she’s just…” Jeremy dragged a hand through his unruly hair. “I see her, and I have to touch her. It’s like a compulsion. Dammit, this is weird.”

  “No, this is past weird. If it makes you feel any better, the feelings are mutual. Her pulse ramps up when she’s around you. I’ll bet mine would ramp up around her, if I had one.” He caught himself staring up the stairs and forced his eyes away. “Son of a bitch.”

  “Maybe she’s part succubus or something.”

  “No, she’d have guys lined up around the block if that was the case. You said she doesn’t date much? No sign of a man in her apartment? That’s not a succubus. They can’t go that long without a male.” He snorted a sardonic laugh. “Vampire and succubus. I’d pay money to see that. Wonder who’d drain who first?”

  “If it’s not about blood, it could be about blood lust. Maybe they want her as a blood lust slave. Were either of them post-feed?”

  “Not a chance. They were both too coherent. Maybe they caught a whiff of her and decided they wanted a lay.” Similar thoughts had popped into his own head back in the parking lot. They were still rattling around in there, yanking the hoists on his dingus. He growled raggedly. Like the man said, son of a bitch.

  “Not without a feed, they wouldn’t,” Jeremy said. “Vampire physiology doesn’t work that way. Well, except in your case.”

  “Yeah, I’m such a special guy. We both know why that is.”

  “Maybe that’s it. What if there’s a whole flock out there that’s like you?”

  “Scary, but doubtful. One king vamp feeding on the others, yeah. But a whole flock bingeing on bat blood? Wouldn’t work. They’d turn on each other the minute they got hungry.” Shit. He couldn’t think straight, not with her up there, so close, so compelling. He wanted to charge upstairs, kick the door down, throw himself on top of her, and let animal instinct take over. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. Cooler heads were needed here, and smarter brains than his. “Okay, my tank’s empty. I say we bring in Annie and Gus.”

  “I agree. I’ll call Gus tomorrow and tell him what’s going on. Maybe he’ll have some ideas.”

  “Hope so.” Christ, this wasn’t cutting it. He had to get out of here, away from the chick and her siren scent. “I’m going to check outside her apartment again. Maybe I can back trail the asshole. If a flock’s trying to build up a blood lust harem, somebody might know something. I’ll ask around. In the meantime…”

  He noticed how Jeremy’s stare had drifted upward to the ceiling and the bedroom beyond it. And him a marked man and everything. Even asleep her power called to any male within reach. That power was going to get her killed, or a whole lot worse than killed. Wallace’s hand tightened into a fist. Not while I’m…well, semi-alive.

  “If I was you,” he said, “I’d quit screwing around. I’d fuck that girl the second you get the chance.”

  Jeremy wrenched his stare off the ceiling and back to Wallace’s face. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. You want her, she wants you. You’re going to drive yourselves bugfuck if you keep dancing around it. The sooner you two scratch your itch, the sooner we can all get back to business.”

  Jeremy’s mouth quirked upward. “I thought you didn’t share.”

  “Not with men, no. Chicks are a whole different story.” That chick up there was a hefty volume all by herself. Hell, she was a goddamn trilogy. He swore he could smell her right through the ceiling. Dammit, he wanted to fidget, and he hated fidgety people. “I won’t lie to you, Scarecrow. I wouldn’t say no to a roll with her either. I wonder if she’s into threesomes?”

  “You are such a slut.”

  “And you love every minute of it. I better get a move on. Nighttime’s wasting.”

  “Like that?”

  Wallace didn’t even bother to follow Jeremy’s gaze. He was all too aware of his massive hard-on. Once he got away from the chick he was pretty sure it would wilt on its own. Eventually.

  “Can’t have that,” Jeremy murmured. He crossed to Wallace and knelt before him. His fingers deftly undid the snap at the top of the vampire’s jeans and eased the zipper down. Wallace’s heavy cock leaped to freedom, hot and ready for action.

  Jeremy took Wallace’s cock into his hand. Wallace shivered at his lover’s familiar, expert touch. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Jeremy grinned up at him. “What you ordered me to, remember?” He flicked his tongue over Wallace’s already leaking head. “Colleen’s had enough shocks tonight. We wouldn’t want to scare her with this. Now hold still while I make you presentable. It’s my duty as a good slave, y’know.”

  His lips closed around Wallace’s penis and started to move. Wallace gasped and fisted his hands in Jeremy’s shaggy hair. “Uh…okay then, slave. Carry on.”

  Chapter 6

  Colleen’s dreams, like sleep, came on her in fits and pendulumed between restful and disturbing with all shades in between. Spurred on by events and adrenaline, her subconscious mind made mockery of her efforts at denial, and stripped away her protective layers to bring her memories into high-def clarity.

  Once again an eight-year-old, she wandered the grounds of the Woods and the Waters with her playmates. Their mothers drifted by with vague, dreamy smiles on their faces. High as kites, the adult perception of Little Kid Colleen whispered scathingly.

  Colleen looked around. Where were the men? The daddies? Children had daddies as well as mommies, and they usually lived together. Again, the thought belonged to Grown-Up Colleen. She’d been out of the commune for over a year before that notion sank in. In the early months of her adoption, she had trouble grasping why George Brenner stayed at the house with Alice Brenner all the time.

  Of course there were daddies, Little Kid Colleen refuted her adult self. The daddies came at night to visit the mommies. Sometimes, if chance allowed, they might even speak to their offspring. Little Kid Colleen didn’t see them too often because she was usually asleep when they came. They had bright eyes and gentle voices and moved with a liquid grace she couldn’t copy no matter how hard she tried.

  One of them approached her now. Her heart leaped. She recognized Jeremy by his height and his bright-as-lightning grin. Only this Jeremy’s eyes were jungle-green, and his grin held a hint of a smirk. His features blurred with Wallace’s, but her feelings for him didn’t waver. She held out her arms to the man before her.

  All at once he changed. His tall frame shortened, broadened. His arms and chest rippled with muscles developed from lifting bales and forking hay. His sable hair was shot with gray, as was his well-trimmed beard. The green eyes that had drawn her in now glinted pale as silver.

  She knew him, or had known him once, before she made herself forget. Neither Little Kid nor Grown-Up Colleen knew his name. She’d never known any of the daddies’ names. She only knew they frightened her, now as well as then.

  The silver-eyed daddy moved in a blur and suddenly stood before her. She tried to run, but found her feet had become stuck to the ground. The daddy’s fingers brushed her cheek. Grown-Up Colleen shrank from his icy touch as Little Kid Colleen never had but always wanted to.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured. “Like a little butterfly. A butterfly with bite, eh? You’re a special one, ma petit. There’s power in your blood. Such plans I have for you.”

  Before he could offer details of those plans, the invaders came. The dream ended as the commune had, in fire, chaos, and death.

  Colleen jerked awake. Panic hit her when she found her legs confined. Just the bed sheets, thank God. She’d tangled her legs in the
m when she’d tried to run in her sleep. This wasn’t the first time that had happened to her.

  Wait a minute. This bed was too big to be hers. The curtains were heavier and admitted less sunlight. Those boots in the corner weren’t her style or size. A man’s slacks hung over the back of a chair.

  This wasn’t her bed. Or her room. Or her apartment.

  The panic that had begun to abate surged over her again. She’d gone shopping. She’d gone home. She’d been attacked outside her door. By a vampire. Jeremy’s partner, Wallace, had saved her. He claimed to be a vampire, too. This was their house and their bed. She was their guest. Or a prisoner.

  She gripped the sheets while she tried to get a grip on herself. Of course she wasn’t a prisoner. Nut jobs or not, they’d come to her aid twice now. If she wanted to walk out the door, she was fairly certain they’d let her. If they didn’t, well, she still knew where to aim her knee.

  Buoyed by this knowledge, Colleen unknotted her legs from the sheets and slid out of bed. She’d go home, call the police, and file a report on the attacker she had watched crumble to dust.

  All right, maybe Jeremy had a point. The cops would want to know where the body was. The teeth and crimson eyes she could explain with plastics and tinted lenses. Justifying the ash trick wouldn’t be so easy.

  Coffee. Coffee first. Then figure out her next move.

  But not in Jeremy’s shirt. Colleen bit her lip over the sorry state of her poor little blouse and slacks combo, hastily folded last night and set on the bureau. She couldn’t face the world in that, after all she had put it through yesterday. She went to the closet in search of a robe to borrow.

  After some casual rooting—somebody had a major jones for jeans and black tees—she came up with two possibilities. Jeremy’s was out of the question. She’d drown in all that fabric, if she didn’t trip and break her leg. She hesitated over the other. The terrycloth garment would fit her well enough if she double-knotted. Except it belonged to Wallace. Mr. Stakey. Mr. Fangs.