by Lynsay Sands
Surprise flashed again on his face and was quickly followed by a frown. “Yet you were afraid? Was it me? Did my size—?” He paused abruptly when she snorted at the suggestion.
“I get big guys in my classes all the time,” Pet told him with amusement and then admitted, “Granted they aren’t usually as big as you. Still, your size doesn’t intimidate me.”
Santo looked uncertain for a minute and then asked, “Then why?”
Pet shrugged. “I don’t know you people, and not all immortals are nice, any more than all mortals are nice.”
She could actually feel the tension in his body ease under where he had her palm pressed to his upper chest. But all he said was, “Now you are not afraid.”
“You drink bagged blood. You’re one of the good ones,” she said simply, and then tugged on her hand. This time he released her. Pet immediately pulled away and climbed down off the chair. Picking it up to carry it back to the table, she said, “You’ll have to wash off the rest. It’s started to dry.”
Pet heard the rush of water as he turned the tap on again, and realized only then that he’d turned it off when he’d heard her gasp. She slid the chair under the table and turned to see that he was dampening the paper towel she’d been using. Leaving him to it, she moved to the cupboard she’d seen Marguerite get the cups out of and opened it. As she’d expected, there were glasses there too, and she took one and then walked to the sink as Santo turned off the tap. She waited for him to move aside, and then turned on the cold water and ran herself a glass and gulped it eagerly down.
“Better?” Santo asked as she set the empty glass in the sink.
Pet turned to peer at him and couldn’t hold back her amused grin when she saw the mess he’d made of his face. He hadn’t got all the blood; there were still specks of it here and there. On top of that, though, he now had bits of paper towel all over his face, caught in the stubble on his cheeks and chin.
“Damn,” Santo muttered, apparently taking her amusement to mean no, it wasn’t better. Returning to the sink, he turned it on. This time he simply stuck his head under the tap and then scrubbed his face with his hands.
Chuckling softly, Pet picked up the dish towel and moved to his side. When he turned off the water and remained bent over, allowing the water to drip off his face, she pressed the towel into his hand and then stepped back as he straightened and dried his face and hands. Lowering the towel then, he turned and raised an eyebrow in question. “Better now?”
“Mostly, but you missed some on your neck,” she said, and held her hand out for the towel.
He gave it up at once and Pet stepped forward and then frowned. It was the same problem as before. The man was ridiculously tall, and while she generally liked tall men, it could be pretty inconvenient for tasks such as this. She could reach his neck, but it would mean standing chest-to-chest with him to do it. Arching one eyebrow, she said, “Either you have to bend over, or I have to get the chair again.”
Santo grinned at her annoyed words and then simply picked her up and set her on the counter next to the sink. He followed that up by stepping forward until his stomach brushed against her knees.
Pet stared up at him wide-eyed for a minute and then let her breath out on a small sigh and reached up to wipe at the spots of dry blood on his neck. It was a simple act, nothing sexual about it, and yet his closeness, the way his heat and scent enveloped her and the way his eyes were traveling over her as she worked made it feel very intimate. Trying to ease her own discomfort, she asked, “I’m guessing Mr. Purdy’s cousin doesn’t have Renfield syndrome?”
“No,” Santo agreed solemnly, his Adam’s apple moving in his throat.
Pet nodded, unsurprised by the answer. “He’s immortal?”
“Sì.”
When he didn’t offer more, she stopped wiping and leaned back to meet his eyes. “Someone you know?”
He hesitated and then admitted, “We suspect he is a known rogue.”
“A known rogue?” Pet asked with a frown.
“A rogue we have encountered before,” he explained.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “But what is a rogue?”
“An immortal who has broken our laws.”
“So he’s a bad immortal,” she said carefully.
“Sì.”
Pet bit her lip, her heart and mind both suddenly racing. She’d encountered bad immortals before . . . as a child . . . and they had torn her life and her sister’s apart. Now another one had popped up right next door to her sister’s home.
Santo caught her under the chin and lifted her face so he could see her expression. She tried to school her features into one of unconcern, but apparently not quickly enough, because he frowned and rumbled, “Do not be afraid. I will keep you safe.”
Normally, a comment like that would have annoyed Pet and she would have told him she didn’t need his protection. It was her standard response to men who wanted to play the protector, which was pretty much every man she met. For some reason, people equated her small stature with her being the equivalent of a child, someone to be humored, coddled, and sheltered from harm, but not to be taken seriously. It could be pretty damned irritating. But Pet knew what immortals could do, and how dangerous Purdy’s cousin could be, and she was afraid. This was one time when she knew she couldn’t defend herself properly. Even worse, she couldn’t defend Parker against a bad immortal if he chose to harm him.
“Pet?”
Her gaze had drifted down to his chest while she thought. Pet lifted her eyes now to meet his, and blinked when she noted the silver growing in the black of his iris. Instead of stars in a dark sky, the silver was gathering and growing to block out the black, like mercury in a thermometer expanded when the temperature rose. It was absolutely beautiful, she thought, and then realized his eyes were coming closer.
His head was slowly lowering, Pet realized. As if he intended to kiss her. She recognized that, and had plenty of time to rebuff him, but didn’t. She was curious, so she lifted her head to him and let her eyes drift closed and then his mouth was on hers.
Nothing could have prepared her for that kiss. Or, at least, not for her body’s response to it. The moment their lips made contact, that earlier tingling she’d experienced when he’d pressed her hand to his chest exploded between them like fireworks on the Fourth of July. It started where his lips met hers but shot to every corner of her body, faster than electricity could travel.
While her mind was briefly stunned by overloaded synapses, her body responded like a sponge, soaking up the pleasure and expanding with it. Goose bumps rose on her skin, her nipples hardened and extended like rosebuds seeking the sun, and her arms moved of their own volition to embrace him as he stepped between her knees to get closer.
A shiver of pleasure slid through Pet when she felt his hands clasp her at the waist, and then his tongue urged her lips apart and she opened to him. As her own tongue greeted and dueled with his, her back arched, pressing her eager breasts against his huge chest, and her hands clutched at his back, pulling him closer to allow it.
Santo’s hand began to slide up her sides then, pushing her cropped top upward until his thumbs rested against the bottoms of her breasts. When they stopped there, she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding on a groan that was caught by his mouth, and then gasped as he finally let his thumbs slide up to run lightly over her aching nipples. Her body jerked in his hold like a racehorse leaping forward at the sound of a starter pistol, and her legs wrapped around his, pulling in an effort to get him closer. He was already tight against the counter, though, and instead of moving him, her efforts dragged her butt forward on the counter surface until they were pressed tight together.
Santo broke their kiss and threw his head back on a groan as they ground together, then just as quickly lowered his head again. But rather than kiss her, he nuzzled her ear and then kissed and nibbled his way down her throat, urging her to lean back as he made his way down to one breast. His m
outh found her nipple through the thin cloth of her top, and he tongued and then sucked at it through the material briefly.
Gasping and murmuring with pleasure, Pet shifted her hands to his head and caressed his skull, urging him on. She wasn’t sure if he did it using his mouth or his hands, but suddenly the cloth of her shirt was gone and his tongue rasped against her sensitive skin without the barrier to temper it. Pet was nearly undone by the caress. Crying out, she dug her nails into his head, her hips shifting and grinding, and legs tightening so that she was riding the hardness pressing against her core. Just when Pet thought she was going to embarrass herself by orgasming through dry humping, Santo was suddenly gone.
Confusion at the abandonment drew her eyes open in time to see Santo’s strained expression. In the next moment, he’d tugged her shirt back into place, lifted her off the counter to stand on the floor, and then moved to the sink and turned on the water.
Grasping the counter to help her stay upright on her trembling legs, Pet stared at him blankly, and then glanced toward the doorway in surprise when the man named Zanipolo entered. Understanding struck her then. Santo must have heard his cousin enter the house. That was why he’d stopped. The knowledge made her feel a little better, and then she frowned slightly. Santo was a stranger, and an immortal. She never should have let him kiss her, and she definitely shouldn’t have responded as she had.
“Hi.” Zanipolo’s footsteps slowed as he noted her presence. “I didn’t think anyone would be up still.”
“I just came down for a glass of water,” Pet murmured, noting the way his interested gaze was sliding between her and his cousin. Santo didn’t even acknowledge his cousin’s comment and still had his back to the room. Pet wondered about that until she noticed Zani’s eyes drop to her chest and widen slightly.
Glancing down as well and saw that her nipples were still erect and poking at the soft material of her cropped top. She suddenly understood why Santo was keeping his back to the room. She’d felt him harden against her as they’d ground together and knew he was no doubt still sporting the proof of what they’d been doing in the form of an erection that would be making the front of his jeans bulge. Suspecting she was bright pink now, Pet mumbled, “Good night,” and made her way out of the room as quickly as her shaking legs would allow.
She was a little steadier on her feet by the time she reached the stairs, and feeling almost normal by the time she made it to the bedroom she was sharing with Parker. She was also feeling lucky. If Zanipolo hadn’t interrupted them . . .
Pet let out a shaky breath and paced to the window to look out. Her response to Santo’s kiss and caresses had been . . . unnatural. That was the only word she could think of to describe it. All he’d done was kiss her and caress and suckle her breast, and she’d . . .
Pet shook her head. She was quite sure that if Zanipolo hadn’t appeared when he had, she would probably be getting screwed on the kitchen counter right now. That just wasn’t her. And her response to Santo had been too much too quickly, and too desperate. She still wanted him. Or did she? Pet knew immortals could control mortals. Had Santo been controlling her? Making her think she wanted him, making her feel this aching need?
She wasn’t sure. Earlier in the kitchen when Marguerite and Parker had been there, she’d thought the man’s scent was intoxicating. Surely he hadn’t been controlling her then? But when she was trying to clean the blood away and he’d pressed her hand flat to his collarbone, her fingers and palm had tingled where they made contact with his skin. That tingle hadn’t stopped in her hand. It had run through her body, setting off alarms like a pinball hitting bumpers. Had he been controlling her and making her feel those things then? she asked herself again. Pet didn’t know, and because she didn’t know, it seemed better to just avoid him.
As soon as morning came, she’d take Parker home and pack some of his clothes while he got ready for school. Then she’d take him back to her place when she picked him up from school. They’d stay there until her sister returned, and maybe even after that.
It wasn’t just her unnatural attraction to Santo. Now that she knew that Mr. Purdy’s cousin was one of the bad immortals, she wasn’t risking Parker being here. She planned to get him as far away as possible from the lot of them . . . which was handy, because she was thinking that the farther she stayed away from Santo and his tingles, the better for her peace of mind.
“I just came to get a couple of bags of blood for Bricker and me,” Zani announced, the words covering the sound of Pet’s fading footsteps as she left the room.
Santo grunted and picked up the glass Pet had used. Grabbing the dishrag, he stuck the glass under the water and began to clean it. The activity gave him an excuse to keep his back to his cousin. While his body was starting to calm down now that Pet had left the vicinity, he was still sporting one huge and rather painful erection. It was going to take a while for that monster to go away.
“Do you want one?” Zani asked, opening the refrigerator door.
It took Santo a second to realize that Zani was asking if he wanted a bag of blood. Nodding, he growled, “Please.”
Zani was immediately beside him, holding out a bag.
“Thanks,” Santo muttered, turning off the water with one hand and taking the bag with the other. He remained facing the sink, though, and slapped the bag to his teeth at once, preventing further conversation. At least, on his side. It didn’t, however, stop Zani from talking.
“Pet’s a cute little thing, isn’t she?” Zani commented as he retrieved a couple more bags from the refrigerator. “And she knows about us too. That’s good. At least we won’t have to constantly control or lie to her. Maybe we can even convince her to let us watch the Purdy house from her sister’s place. It would make things easier,” Zani pointed out, turning away from the refrigerator with four bags of blood cuddled in his arms. Not expecting a response, he nodded at Santo and then headed out of the room with a light “see you later.”
Santo grunted what could have been taken as a response, but his mind was turning over what Zani had said. Pet knew about immortals. Zani thought that would make things easier in regard to their job here, but Santo suddenly realized it would also make things easier for him. Actually, it was one hell of a bonus. It meant he didn’t have to explain everything like most immortals had to do with their life mates. He wouldn’t have to try to find the most delicate way to explain that while most people would call them vampires, they weren’t vampires. They weren’t dead and soulless. They were simply mortals who had an extended life thanks to a scientific breakthrough back in Atlantis before its fall.
Extremely extended, he thought wryly, considering his own age, and then shook his head. He didn’t think that meant all his worries were over. While she’d responded eagerly to his kiss and caresses, she’d also fled the room the minute Zani had appeared, rather than wait for him to leave. If she hadn’t fled . . . His mind filled with images of his turning, picking her up, and kissing her the minute Zani left the room, and then carrying her to the table, laying her out on it, and—
Santo abruptly cut off his thoughts there. His body was responding to the images in his mind, his erection returning to full throttle and aching with the need to bury itself in her wet heat. Unfortunately, Pet hadn’t stuck around for him to play out that scenario, which made him suspect she wasn’t just going to fall into his arms like a ripe plum from a tree. She was mortal and was probably a little confused and maybe even overwhelmed by the desire that had exploded between them. He would have to be patient with her. He’d also probably have to woo her, and—
Straightening abruptly, he ripped the now empty bag from his fangs and muttered, “Shared dreams.” Those were exactly what they sounded like—dreams shared between two life mates. They were apparently very helpful in winning a life mate over. They fanned the desire and encouraged intimacy before a couple was ready to claim it in reality. They were also supposed to be damned pleasurable. Which begged the question, what the hell w
as he doing standing here fretting when he could be in bed, enjoying the shared sex dreams life mates experienced?
Santo tossed the empty bag in the garbage and headed out of the kitchen. He’d go to bed, go to sleep, and just wait for her to join him in dreamland. Damn, shared dreams were supposed to be hot. He could hardly wait.
The sound of a door closing woke Santo. Knowing it wasn’t likely to be Marguerite and Julius, who were late risers, he sprang from bed and hurried to the door, opening it just in time to see Parker disappearing into the bathroom. Thinking Pet must be awake too, Santo slid from his room and headed downstairs to put the coffee on. He was quite sure she would need one, because he was positive she hadn’t slept at all last night. Otherwise they would have enjoyed some of those shared dreams he’d heard so much about.
Santo scowled at the lost opportunity, but suspected Pet had sat up through the night either worrying about the would-be intruder they’d scared off or fretting over the fact that she didn’t have an alarm clock and might not wake up in time to get her nephew to school this morning. That, or she wasn’t really his life mate after all.
Santo discarded that possibility at once. The way they’d gone up in flames last night after one kiss pretty much discounted that. Still, just the idea was enough to make him grumpy as he read the instructions on the coffee tin and tried to make coffee. It wasn’t a task he’d ever attended to before. Santo hadn’t drunk anything but blood in . . . well, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an actual beverage that wasn’t blood. Before Christ was born, certainly, he thought as he gave up on finding directions and just poured half the can of ground coffee into the machine, added water, and turned it on. That task done, he stood still, wondering what Pet would like for breakfast.
“Good morning!”
Santo turned at that cheerful greeting to find Parker looking wide awake and disgustingly chipper as he entered the kitchen.
“Morning,” he growled and turned to retrieve a glass from the cupboard. Carrying it to the fridge, he asked, “Orange juice?”