by J. K. Beck
Evangeline, however, continued to lay dying, bleeding on the floor as the men rushed out, searching for a vampire they would never catch.
She’d called the child over, and the little girl had come, tears streaming down her face, her small voice whispering, “Maman! Maman!”
Evangeline had hardened her heart, clutched the child, and uttered the words she’d been warned by her own mother never to use. An abomination, even for one who delved into the darkness as she did. But it was either that, or die.
And Evangeline chose to live—her body gone, but her spirit alive inside the body of her daughter. Cramped down, buried deep, able to rise only through the force of extreme will that left the girl clutching her head and fearing that her skull would explode from the pressure.
The girl never knew what lived inside her. And when she grew and aged, Evangeline moved to the next one. A granddaughter. Then a great-granddaughter. And on and on until she’d settled in Leena. And with each generation, Eva had to fight her way out again, able to claim only snippets of time, using those moments to search for the vampires who’d destroyed her world.
Now that she’d found them, she’d fight brutally to keep control of this body. To keep Leena down. She needed it now. Because she had a plan.
Because Sergius could lead her to Derrick, and she’d finally be done with the both of them.
“Leena!” Alexis’s voice cut through the haze of memories. “Leena, put the gun down. Edgar was wrong. He’s not dangerous. He’s helping. I swear, he’s helping.”
Slowly, she lowered the gun. Slowly, she managed a smile.
Inside, she could feel the girl twisting, trying to regain control.
But Eva wasn’t having that.
Leena might never have known that Eva lived inside her, but Eva had witnessed every moment of her life. She knew how to be the simpering little gimpy Leena, and she’d play the part until the end.
Then—when she finally plunged the stake into Sergius’s and Derrick’s murderous hearts—she’d tell them the truth: that it was Evangeline who took their lives, just as they’d taken everything from her.
Serge clung to Alexis, barely able to comprehend the horror of what would have happened if he’d arrived even a moment later.
He’d almost talked himself out of coming, but the memory of how her face had looked when she’d found out about Edgar had haunted him. He hadn’t known her long, but he understood the core of her—he’d seen it and had recognized it in himself. She wasn’t the type to sit back and wait for justice. She was going to go on the hunt.
She might not want him at her side, but he didn’t care. She was in his blood now, and he wasn’t going to see her destroyed.
And yet she’d come so close.
He pulled her closer, holding her, then pushed her away and searched her eyes. “Damn little fool! You were going to go out? By yourself?”
“Fool?” Unexpectedly, she laughed. “In case you didn’t notice, she didn’t attack me on the hunt. She came to me.” Her brow furrowed. “Why was she here?”
“You’ve been hunting rogues,” he said. “You can’t expect to stay under the radar.”
She nodded, then stepped back from him and ran her fingers through the thick waves of her hair, now loose around her shoulders. She flashed him a quick smile. “I don’t know why you came here, but thank you.”
“Yes,” Leena said stiffly. “You arrived in the nick of time.”
“Are you okay?” Alexis was looking at her friend with concern. “Your head?”
Leena raised a hand to her temple. “It’s better now. Just a dull ache.”
“Do you want to crash here?”
For a moment, the girl seemed to consider it, her eyes never leaving Serge. They were old eyes, and he found himself hoping that she’d leave, but whether that was because he wanted to be alone with Alexis or because the girl made him uncomfortable, he didn’t know.
“No,” she finally said. “Thanks, but I think I want to go home.” She nodded at the pile of dust. “We found the vampire that killed Edgar, but we’re still looking for the one that killed Tori. Maybe I can work on that tonight.”
“Don’t even try,” Alexis said. “You’ll get a migraine, and it’s not worth it. Not tonight. Just rest, okay? Promise me?”
The younger girl nodded, and Alexis went to her side, then pulled her into a hug that Leena stiffly returned. They broke apart, and Alexis handed her the fallen cane, then walked her outside to her car. Serge followed at a discreet distance. Foolish, perhaps, but he wanted to stay close enough to protect Alexis.
When she returned, her smile was timid. “So. Thank you.” Another ghost of a smile, then she eased past him into the kitchen. “I want a glass of wine. Do you? I mean—do you drink?”
“I do, and thank you.” He grinned, hoping to lighten the mood. “A snack would be good, too. The kind that doesn’t coagulate.” It was a ridiculous attempt at levity, but it seemed to work. She rolled her eyes and nodded.
“Right,” she said. “Have a seat and I’ll see what I can find.”
She ended up bringing two glasses and a bottle of Malbec to the table along with a plate of cheese and fruit. “I’m not really hungry,” she said as she nibbled on a slice of cheese. “I eat when I’m nervous.”
“Who can blame you for being nervous? You almost got killed.”
Her smile was tremulous, and she didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’m not sure that’s why I’m nervous.”
Oh. He hid his own smile behind a sip of wine. “So why did Leena want to go home? She’s looking for the vampire that killed your sister?”
Alexis nodded, apparently grateful for the change in subject. “She’s the one who came up with the spell that lets me use the dirt to track the rogues.”
“And your sister’s killer? How is she tracking him?”
“That was trickier. It took her a while to figure it out—just recently, actually. That night in the alley when Mitre got away was the first time she’d tried it. It uses blood—mine, since I shared blood with Tori—and some of her hair from an old hairbrush I found packed away.”
“Blood is a powerful thing.”
“I know.” Her throat moved as she swallowed. “I’ve felt yours. Your blood, I mean.” Her voice was low. Sultry. And it stroked his senses in dangerous and appealing ways.
“Did you?”
“Are you surprised?”
“That depends. How so?”
“Nothing terribly overt. I felt stronger. More alert, I guess.”
“That’s not unusual,” he said. “Anything else?”
“I had a dream about you.”
“Oh?” Without thinking, he reached out and took her hand. Her eyes met his, but she didn’t pull away. “And was it a good dream?”
The heat from her hand was spreading through his body like hot oil that stroked and filled him, and he had to physically fight the urge to lean over and kiss her. “Alexis? Tell me about the dream.”
“It was good,” she said simply, but there was a world of heat in her eyes. “Very good.”
“Tell me about it.” He wanted her voice to surround him, her words to seduce him.
“It was after you saved us. It was like you were there. And we were touching.”
“Like this?” he asked, trailing a fingertip down her arm.
She swallowed. “A bit.”
“Just a bit? Maybe like this?” He lifted her hand, then kissed the tip of each of her fingers. He could tell that she was trying to fight it, but a small moan of pleasure escaped anyway, and that was all the encouragement he needed. He drew her forefinger into his mouth, his tongue sliding over her skin, making his body throb with heat and longing.
“Not exactly,” she whispered. “But you were there, and you were touching me, and I was touching you, too. Your back. Your arm. I still remember the pattern of your tattoo.”
He stiffened. “My tattoo?”
She frowned. “You don’t have one? It was in m
y dream. A chain that went around your bicep.” She leaned toward him, brushing the white shirt that covered his arm. “Right here.”
He caught her hand, keeping it pressed against him. “Wait,” he said, then released her hand, while slowly leaning back. Even more slowly, he unbuttoned his shirt, then slipped out of it, his eyes never leaving Alexis.
Dear God, he’s getting undressed!
Alexis sat transfixed, staring at this perfect specimen of a man. A chest with only the slightest smattering of hair and defined abs, but not so much so that he looked like he should be posing on the beach following an Ironman competition.
She was so enthralled, in fact, that he had to call her attention away from his body with a quick clearing of his throat. She jumped a little, turning her focus to his arm. And to the tattoo that she’d seen so clearly in her dream.
“Is this the tattoo you saw?”
“Yeah. And that arm. And that chest.” She smiled, unsure why his tone had suddenly turned serious. “Is that a problem?”
“No. But it is unusual.” He pushed back from the table into a standing position. He held out his hand, beckoning to her, and she found herself standing without hesitation and taking his hand. He led her out of the kitchen to the back door, then through the sliding glass and onto the flagstone patio. They walked toward the pool, which had a Jacuzzi built into the side. Overflow cascaded down a wall of rocks to the main pool, warming the water below. Serge sat on the edge of the whirlpool and ran his fingers through the water.
“Serge?”
“You have an unusual mind,” he said.
“Do I?” She kicked off her shoes and sat on the edge with him, then rolled up her jeans and stuck her feet into the hot water. It felt like heaven, and she didn’t even care that it was soaking the cuffs of her pants.
“Usually a human can’t feel the blood connection.”
“The blood connection?”
“When a vampire gives his blood to a human, he can track that human. Feel their emotions.” He glanced at Alexis as he said that, and she felt her cheeks warm. “It only lasts as long as the blood is in the human’s system, but vampire blood lingers for quite a while.”
“But the human doesn’t usually feel it?”
“No.”
She closed her eyes and concentrated, then shook her head. “I think I must be normal. I know you’re sitting right there, but I don’t feel it.”
He laughed, then edged closer, his eyes on her face. Slowly, he cupped her cheek in his palm. A small sound escaped her lips. “Trust me,” he said. “You’re exceptional.”
And then he was kissing her, his lips warm and consuming and so very tender. She eased away, and the pressure of his kiss seemed to linger on her flesh. She told herself she didn’t want to feel it, but that was a lie. She did want it. Everything inside her head told her she should pull away, but why? Why should she? Edgar was dead. She’d almost been killed by a vampire bitch. Everything was horrible and frightening, and somehow, magically, she’d met this man—this vampire—who stood like an oasis in the midst of it all.
“What is it you want?” His fingers traced a path down her neck, then along her collarbone, then farther down until his fingertips seemed to be dancing upon the swell of her breast.
“You.” The word was an admission, and while she hated her weakness, she couldn’t deny the truth. She felt safe with him. His touch made her feel alive. The desire that coursed through her was unlike anything she’d ever felt before, and yet she trusted it. It felt right somehow, all the way down to her toes. She didn’t want to fight it. For so long, it had felt like she was fighting everything. Right now, she just wanted to feel.
Boldly, she leaned forward and pressed her hands to his chest, her palms against his skin, his flesh as strong and hard as she’d imagined. She should have known it would be like this—this visceral longing, this compulsion to touch and be touched. She’d had that dream, after all. And he’d been hovering in her thoughts since the first moment she’d seen him.
“Were you always fit, or did this come after you became a vampire?”
“I was a soldier when I was human. It was in my best interest to stay stronger than my enemy.”
“So does that mean the stories are true? That a vampire remains as he was when he was turned?”
“The same age, yes. The rest, no.” A slight grin played at his mouth. “When I took the dark kiss, my hair brushed my shoulders.”
“Really?” She tried to imagine him with longer hair. Now it was so short that it was almost military. Just long enough for her to plow her fingers through. It defined his angular face and strong jaw. Long hair would soften his features, though she doubted it would weaken them. She couldn’t imagine Serge ever seeming weak.
She stroked her palms over his chest, taking pleasure in his soft moans, then even more pleasure in his touch. Slowly, he drew his fingers down to the hem of her shirt. As if he was performing a sacred ritual, he slowly tugged it over her head, then tossed it aside, leaving her in her bra. He gave her a teasing grin, then eased his fingers around to her back, expertly unhooking the clasp.
“Not bad,” she said. “You must have had a lot of practice.”
“Actually, no,” he said. The grin had faded and his eyes were serious. “You could say I’m quite out of practice.”
“Oh.” A little frisson of delight shot up her spine at the idea that in his eyes, there was something special about her.
And then, before she could talk herself out of it, she leaned in and brushed his lips with her own. He caught her in his arms, holding her firmly and kissing her deeply. She surrendered herself to him, to the power of his kiss. Already shirtless, he needed only moments to slide out of his jeans and into the hot tub. She followed suit, tentative about the heat of the water, but he laughed and scooped her up. He settled her on his lap and the hard length of his erection pressed against her, teasing both of them, and stealing her thoughts so that she could barely concentrate on the words she wanted to say to him.
“Tell me I won’t regret this in the morning.”
“I know that I won’t,” he said.
“This shouldn’t be happening. It shouldn’t be real.”
His hand brushed her cheek. His lips caressed her ear. And his fingers slipped between her thighs and stroked her silky wetness. “It’s real,” he said. “I’m not sure it gets much realer than this.”
“It does,” she said, because she couldn’t stand it any longer. Any pretense of reason was washed away by his touch, and all she wanted was him. To be with him, joined. To feel him tremble in her arms and know that she’d brought a man like him to the brink and over it.
With a low moan, she pressed her lips to his, her tongue demanding entrance even as she lifted her hips. She felt his hands slide around her waist, and she reached down between them, stroking him, wanting to feel how ready he was for her.
She writhed a bit, teasing herself with the tip of his cock, but not for too long. She didn’t want foreplay. Not tonight. Not now.
All she wanted was him. And so she took what she wanted, lowering herself onto him with one bold, quick stroke. Impaling herself. Taking him in, claiming him, consuming him.
His moan was low and guttural and filled with pleasure, and she felt her muscles contract in response.
He pulled his mouth away from hers only long enough to whisper her name, and then he kissed her hard, their teeth meeting and their tongues dancing.
She pulled back, gasping for air, then arched her back as he grabbed her hips, holding tight to her as they pistoned together.
“Alexis,” he whispered again, and then his body seemed to explode in her arms. She’d been on the brink herself, and he pulled her over the edge with him. She clung to him, breathing hard, feeling him soften inside her, but not wanting the connection to break. Wishing they could stay like this forever.
Not possible.
A small voice of reason reminded her of more than the impracticality of li
ving a life in a hot tub. The sun was going to rise in an hour or so. A fact that she murmured into his ear, along with a whispered invitation to come check out her bed.
“We’ll have to properly break in the mattress,” he said. “Unless you’re too tired?”
“I’m pretty sure I’ll never be tired again,” she said as he scooped her up and carried her inside. They dripped all the way to the bedroom, but he stopped by the attached bath for towels. When they ended up under the covers she was warm and content—and very ready for a repeat performance.
Fortunately, he was happy to oblige.
This time they took it slow and easy, using all of the bed to stretch out, to explore and touch until she was certain he knew every inch of her body, and she was confident that she knew every bit of his.
She lay on her back as he slid into her, his hands on either side of her, his arms strong enough to hold her all night if she’d wanted. It was tempting. She watched his face as he moved rhythmically inside her, the way his mouth curved with pleasure. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners and burned with a sensual heat.
Slowly, almost painfully, the sweet pressure built. Her mouth opened and she drew in long gulping breaths as the climax rose inside her. Still, she held his gaze, almost to the very end, when the world was hanging by a thread and all she wanted to do was fly off into the void.
“Let go,” he whispered, and she closed her eyes and let the explosion take her, while he held her close, the wild shudders from her orgasm rocketing through both of them.
After, they lay together quietly, and she just watched him, awed by the night. By him.
He brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, then traced the curve of her lips with his fingers, the feel of it sending shivers through her. “You’re incredible,” he said. “Soothing and sweet.”
“Am I? Soothing suggests snuggling under the covers and sliding off into sleep.” She pressed her palm against his chest. “Is that what you want?”
“Not even remotely. But it’s almost dawn. And you’re human. Don’t you think sleep would be a good idea?”