Bond of Darkness

by Diane Whiteside

  “Buenas noches, doctora.”

  “Buenas noches, señor,” she choked out. Good, they’d managed to catch her off guard.

  “Did you enjoy your observations, doctora?”

  She deliberately forced herself to relax a little more, matching Don Rafael’s tone.

  Despite himself, Ethan started to admire her but he couldn’t afford to release her.

  “They were somewhat—unusual, señor.” She shrugged, striving for a light atmosphere.

  Even though he’d promised not to use vampiro mind tricks, Don Rafael’s eyes were searching her face as if he’d never seen anyone like her, the way a prosaico would, as if he wanted to read her every thought. His fingers curled and his hands lifted, almost reaching for the curve of her cheek. Trying to probe her more deeply? Caress a long-lost lover? Surely not, especially when his conversation was unexceptionable.

  “Do you intend to share them with others?”

  “What’s to share? A man and woman did some necking in the woods. Would anyone in authority believe the man bit the woman for a nefarious reason, especially when he’s such an important member of the community?”

  He studied her, then nodded. She won’t harm us, Ethan.

  Very well, sir. Ethan reluctantly released the choke hold but didn’t step away.

  “May I remove this impertinent twig from your jacket, doctora?”

  He wanted to seduce her? Just how many harebrained chances did the Old Man plan to take tonight?

  Ethan! Let her choose freely.

  Ethan gritted his teeth but eased off until he was barely touching her. If she started any trouble, he could wring her neck in an instant, given how close they were standing.

  Still, the lady vet was one damn smart cookie. She eyed Don Rafael very suspiciously before nodding. “Certainly.”

  “You may depart, Ethan.”

  Ethan hesitated. If anything, his grip tightened on her. After all, what if she was working with Devol? “She could be the bait for another assassination attempt, Don Rafael.”

  “There is no threat to me here and now.” Rafael’s voice was deadly calm—and it sliced the night air like the doctora’s best scalpel.

  “As you wish, sir.” Ethan reluctantly released her and left—without a sound, of course.

  What the hell was different about Grania O’Malley? It’d be a pleasure to know why Don Rafael was behaving so damn oddly for a woman he’d just met. She was either his salvation or his biggest threat.

  Ethan was still pondering that question when he arrived at Calatrava Resort a few hours later. Having drunk twice from Brynda, Don Rafael wanted to know if she was showing any signs of distress.

  Ethan stopped his big black pickup just below where the hotel slept, careful to avoid the more revealing surveillance cameras. Rough Bear silently emerged from the gardens, which were quiet now without their jewel-like fountains, and stepped inside the truck, inconspicuous in jeans and an ancient Willie Nelson T-shirt.

  “How is she?” Ethan decorously turned the truck around, trying to look like an early-morning landscape service.

  “Fine. She said hello to her friends on the boat, then went below and slept. She hasn’t been seen since but her friends are pleased she’s already started to relax.”

  Ethan’s gaze flickered sideways. For Rough Bear, that number of words at one time almost amounted to nervous chatter.

  “Good,” he said noncommittally, shards of ice playing hop-scotch on his neck.

  The verdant putting greens had faded into fairways, then ranch lands, before Rough Bear spoke again.

  “Steve checked in to the resort yesterday.”

  Steve? He knew a number of Steves. But surely not Stephanie Amanda.

  “Which one?”

  “The cop.” Rough Bear’s tone allowed no ambiguity.

  Ethan’s breath stopped in his throat at the chance of seeing her again. How soon could he get back to the resort? Shit, not before dawn.

  But did it matter?

  He shrugged. “So what? She’s probably here on a second honeymoon.”

  “She checked in solo—under the name of Reynolds.”

  Ethan almost swerved off the road at hearing her maiden name.

  CALATRAVA RESORT, THE NEXT NIGHT

  Ethan stepped into the bar, reminding himself yet again he was only here for one quick look and then he’d be gone. Just to reassure himself she was fine after three years of no contact and her promotion into the Texas Rangers. After all, that kind of duty down along the border could jangle anybody’s nerves.

  Yeah, right—and to look for a flash of gold on her left hand. He’d played the gentleman once before and let her walk away, to find a husband for the home and children she wanted so badly, that he couldn’t possibly give her. He couldn’t even hope to offer her a permanent relationship, lest it cost them both their lives.

  But he’d never been good at that sort of polite behavior, as his mother and sisters would have been the first to attest. He’d only managed it by not allowing himself to hear anything of what Steve was doing.

  But if she was free, what would he do? What wouldn’t he do?

  He snickered at his fantasies and slipped past the heavy planters, whose massive palm fronds screened the bar from the resort’s lobby. This was the most private and adult bar of the resort’s many retreats, with leather and wrought iron furniture, tile floor, and discreet bartenders ready to pour very upscale drinks. One wall was glass, displaying a balcony offering a view of the alluring gardens and swimming pool beyond.

  A handful of tables were occupied on this Saturday after Memorial Day. He assessed and dismissed them rapidly, as being of no consequence. Far faster than if he’d been guarding Don Rafael, where everyone was a potential threat. Tonight only one caught his attention, tugging at his pulse.

  Steve was sitting at the bar, facing two would-be cowboys and lightly drumming on the counter. The soft lighting, designed to spotlight expensive liqueurs, instead highlighted her profile’s purity and her skin’s rich gold. Her sensual mouth was firmly compressed now and her winged brows were drawn together. If he could see them clearly, he’d wager that her whisky brown eyes had turned flat and cold as a gunstock.

  He almost pitied the fools—but he couldn’t blame them for trying to make time with her.

  She was wearing a simple white wrap dress which delightfully flattered her trim figure. Its skirt hinted at her long legs’ potential for wrapping around a lucky man’s waist. The deep V-neckline offered glimpses of her beautiful breasts, although they were best enjoyed from a closer vantage point. The short sleeves displayed her arms’ golden tan, all the way down to her beautiful hands, as easily capable of using a knife or gun as fondling his balls.

  His pulse stirred, driven by memories of past delights.

  And God help him, she was wearing her long black hair loose tonight. It fell down to her waist, rippling like a waterfall of darkness that a man could dive into for the rest of his life. When she brushed it over his hips or thighs . . .

  She tossed it back to rub her neck. One of the two bastards promptly moved a little closer.

  Ethan’s blood immediately boiled with more than lust.

  He circled around her, careful not to be seen, and sat down on her far side. A raised hand, two fingers, and a fifty on the counter brought the bartender’s eager attention and two examples of Ethan’s favorite mojito.

  “Here you go, darling,” he drawled, sliding one forward to replace her horrific diet soda. “Sorry I was a little late.”

  She whipped around to stare at him, one hand automatically reaching for her missing gun.

  He raised an eyebrow. She’d grown considerably faster on the draw during her time on the border.

  Shock, followed by incredulous joy, bloomed in her dark eyes.

  “Hello, darling.” She looked him over slowly, allowing her eyes to linger on strategic portions of his anatomy. “Well now, don’t you just clean up fine when you finally bother to
make the effort.”

  “Promised you something special, didn’t I?” He toasted her, not bothering to hide his reaction to her survey, although his brain tossed a few crumbs toward caution.

  Why the hell was she so eager to get laid? She’d only acted like this before when she’d come straight off a dangerous op, which surely wasn’t the case here. “Care to make a thorough inspection?”

  “Guess I’d better, since you worked so hard.” She rose leisurely, forcing the two spluttering fools to move away. “You’ll excuse us, gentlemen?”

  He cupped her elbow, not allowing himself closer contact in public. There’d be time enough for everything they both wanted, once they reached his room.

  Steve fought not to heave a sigh of relief, wondering how Ethan had known she needed him. The best lay in Austin, probably in all of Texas—and the one with the fewest strings. Thank God.

  Damn, but she needed to be held. She’d come here to borrow Cousin Mac’s time-share. He was her sole relative and very popular with Uncle Sam. Only God knew where the Army was working him to the bone right now, since they’d abruptly interrupted her visit with him at Fort Bragg.

  She didn’t want to think about her diminishing chances of ever getting two point three kids and a house with a white picket fence. She sure as hell didn’t want to second-guess anything connected with Ramirez’s death. But sitting alone in a strange bar, in a strange town, being ogled by strangers, was no way to shut down her brain or feel warm again.

  Sleeping with Ethan had its own set of risks, of course. He was a vampiro and he knew far too much about the worst guys in Texas. But he’d never hurt her and she’d never seen him commit a crime. Besides, a little blood was a small price to pay for the kind of sex he could provide.

  She almost bounced on her toes at the prospect. She had Ethan and life was going to be much, much better for at least a little while. Starting with the visuals, of course.

  He was a beautiful man, but she’d always found him most dangerous to her equilibrium when he was paying the least attention to his own attractions. Blond hair, a Greek god’s irresistible beauty, hazel eyes backed by the cool, calculating intelligence of a gunfighter, and a panther’s lethal grace and power.

  Not kind or gentle—but skillful, which was all she wanted now, thank God.

  “Damn, I’m glad to see you,” she breathed.

  He glanced at her, both of them moving swiftly along the pathways between the villas. Exotic flowers scented the soft night, many still lightly bespangled from the earlier rainstorm.

  “What about the husband?” His voice was definitely edged.

  Jealous? Surely not. But he’d always been careful to observe legal formalities around her.

  “Divorce.” She made a moue of distaste. With Ethan’s arm around her, she could start erasing Fred’s bedroom memories. “It’s been final for a few months.”

  “That sounds—very complete and very fast,” Ethan commented, turning into the truly exclusive part of the resort.

  She blinked, startled they weren’t heading for his truck. He wasn’t somebody to stick around public places. Possible destinations started to dance through her head, all strongly approved by her libido.

  “He got caught with his pants down.” She shrugged, more than eager to forget the bastard. “At the church picnic by the oldest Sunday School teacher.”

  “Shit.” Ethan’s voice was a lethal hiss.

  “Not exactly, but you’ve got the idea.” She leaned closer to her longtime lover. His heat seeped into her from his shoulders to the roughness of his denim-clad leg rasping her thigh. “Must we talk about him?”

  “Not if you don’t want to.” He unlocked an isolated villa and stood back, the porch light striking sparks from his golden hair.

  She sauntered in, trying to breathe through a throat grown suddenly tight.

  The villa was a modernistic vision of what an Easterner thought Texas style should be, with lots of overstuffed leather furniture, woven rugs, and tile floors. It looked comfortable, though, and there was a door which promised a bedroom.

  He kicked the front door shut and kissed her neck, lightly scraping his teeth over her skin. Steve rose up on her toes with a little moan, steam sizzling through her veins.

  “How long will you be here?”

  “What does that matter?” she snapped, and tried to turn around.

  He stopped her with an arm around her waist. “Tell me, Steve. Are we talking about a night, a week, or longer?”

  Oh shit, now he was stroking his hands up and down her arms, his calloused fingers somehow striking sparks from her satiny-smooth skin.

  He locked his fingers in hers and hauled her closer to him. She squirmed against him and over him, driving herself frantic, heat rising through her bones and rippling across her skin.

  All she wanted was to forget about everything and just take comfort from him. Why did they have to talk?

  “Steve?” he prompted.

  She wriggled again, but he wouldn’t slip his leg between hers. Her heart was pounding, blocking thought from her brain.

  “At least a week. Maybe a month.” For the first time, her exile to Austin sounded enjoyable.

  “Very good,” he approved, and kissed her cheek, close but not close enough to her mouth.

  Ethan’s voice sounded a little tight but she ignored that, pleased his mouth had moved lower to explore her jaw and throat. She immediately tilted her head, moaning encouragement, her skin growing taut and flushed.

  He turned her to face him, never lifting his head. She stroked his head, savoring how his hair’s thick silk rippled through her fingers.

  His strong fingers slipped inside her dress, fondling and kneading her breast. She groaned and arched, pressing herself shamelessly into their expert enticement, shuddering under every heated spike of her blood.

  He stroked her thighs, teasing her under her skirt. She moaned, her legs squeezing his hand, her hips twisting and writhing in encouragement. Passion pulsed and heated through her veins, sizzling like steam on an overheated skillet.

  She snarled in frustration, cream spilling to follow his lead. “Damn you, Ethan!”

  “Tut-tut! Such language from a lady,” he mocked lightly.

  “I want to be fucked, Ethan, not seduced. It’s been nine months since I’ve had a man!” She and Fred had been seeing a marriage counselor months before the final breakup—although Fred had started his first affair days after their wedding. It’d be a long time before she forgot that discovery.

  But Ethan wasn’t a marriage candidate, since he was a vampiro. He’d never offer a gold ring or a family. She could relax with him and simply enjoy herself.

  He stilled for a moment, his hands falling silent on her.

  “Ethan, dammit!” She pushed against him, demanding his full attention again.

  He chuckled, long and low, silky and dangerous. She shivered, recognizing the promise of eventual fulfillment—but not necessarily in the gentlest fashion.

  He flipped up her skirt, half tearing her panties to bare her. Hot cream from her core gushed to follow, sliding down her thighs, scenting the air.

  “Feeling eager? Feeling ready?” he queried, his voice harsh and demanding.

  “Yes, dammit!” How often did she have to tell him?

  A single, callused finger slipped between her legs and played with her. Rough, blunt, dragging through her slick folds, playing with her clit, teasing her, circling, probing and withdrawing until she was nearly insane. She rode it, adapted, fought to keep it. Her breath caught in her lungs, her legs rose and sank down to match its rise and fall, her heartbeat drummed in her ears. She clutched at his shoulders, keening his name.

  So long, so very long since she’d had a man. Since she’d had anything more than her hand or a vibrator.

  Wonderful. Best of all, it was Ethan.

  He pressed down on her clit, in that expert stroke of his—and she climaxed, every bone and sinew vibrating with pleasure, cascades o
f joy tumbling through her.

  Long moments passed while she fought to recover, shuddering with the need for air. Then she slowly began to breathe again, frustrated she still hadn’t had his cock inside her. “Damn you, Ethan!”

  “What’s the matter, Stephanie Amanda?”

  “Ethan!” Only he dared to call her that.

  His face was harsh with leashed hunger but he managed a hoarse laugh. “Still haven’t had enough—Stephanie?”

  She snarled but managed a civil response. There’d be no satisfaction until she accepted the name. “You know I want more of you, Ethan.” She swallowed, her eyes drifting down over his chest. “Please,” she whispered.

  He picked her up and she tucked her head against his shoulder, her bones slowly regaining their stability in the shadow of his strength. It had been so long since anybody had simply offered her sexual release, without her job making them awestruck or turning them into sycophants.

  He kissed her hair, murmuring something unintelligible, and deposited her on the enormous, silk-covered bed.

  She bounced upright, staring at her lover. The bedroom was as modernistic as the living room. It, too, had probably come from an expensive designer—and a very hedonistic one, judging by the luxurious bed.

  “What on earth?” she spluttered. When was Ethan going to do something about that enormous erection he was sporting?

  “Perfect, isn’t it?”

  “For what?” she asked suspiciously, staring at him. If she wasn’t so irritated at him for putting her down, she’d say something to him about how he’d opened up her dress so she was basically lying on top of it. Hell of a way to undress a girl without taking off any of her clothes.

  “For this.” He knelt down and lifted her legs over his shoulders, sliding her hips to the edge of the bed.

  “Huh?”

  He took a long, assessing lick along her thigh, then another. “Very nice.”

  She shivered, fireflies dancing through her skin and into her bones to shimmer into her blood. “Very nice?”

  “But I think I’d prefer a taste of this.” He buried his face in her cunt and nuzzled her.