Not Quite Dead (A NightHunter Novel)

by Stephanie Rowe

  Her nipples were aching with need, and her muscles convulsed every time he pinched them. Lightly at first. Then harder. Sensual pleasure edged with just enough pain to make her gasp. Then he shifted, moving his hands to her thighs. He began a slow, sensual caress as he slid his hands up her leg, raising her skirt higher and higher, baring her skin.

  Her heart hammered in terrified anticipation as his hands closed around her buttocks, his finger sliding beneath the edge of her underwear. His thumb brushed over her clitoris ever so slightly, and she jumped, gasping in startled surprise at the sensations that ripped through her. Oh, God, what was she doing? She couldn't do this. Not with him. Not with anyone. "Eric, stop."

  His hand stilled, his palm resting gently against the juncture of her thighs. He broke the kiss, but didn't move his head, so their foreheads were resting against each other, their noses still touching, their lips barely a breath apart. They were both breathing heavily, and she was trembling. "I'm not ready for this," she said, even as she tightened her grip on him, her hands entwined around his neck.

  He let out his breath, and said nothing, his hands still on her body, hot and tempting against her flesh.

  "Eric?"

  "Give me a sec," he said, his voice so deep and raspy that chills shivered down her arms. "I have to pry my libido out of my brain. It takes a minute or two."

  She almost laughed at his reply, the tension easing from her body. Eric might be part monster of some sort, and he might be a temptation that was far too dangerous to play with, but at the same time, he was still just Eric, the ridiculously charming man who made her laugh with his irreverence.

  He finally lifted his head, and looked at her. His eyes were a turbulent swirl of emotions, and her belly immediately tightened at the realization that he hadn't been joking. His need for her was stark on his face, a desire so powerful that it made her want to melt into his arms right then and there and let him fulfill his every fantasy with her body.

  "You're trouble," he commented.

  "You're the one who's trouble."

  His gaze went to her hair, which he oh-so-gently brushed off her face in the most tender of gestures. "No, sweetheart, I'm way past trouble on that spectrum. But you..." His attention settled on her face. "I'm going to have to make love to you," he said. "There's no other possibility."

  She swallowed, her body suddenly awash with a tantalizing warmth. "No sex," she said. "We have to find Tristan—"

  "I know we do. But my brother isn't the only thing I need to address." His face was dark, almost moody. "As it turns out, it appears that one of the things I need is you." There was such an edge to his voice that she shivered.

  "Should I be afraid?"

  "Yeah, probably." His gaze went to her mouth, and she instinctively licked her lips.

  "Don't," she warned him. "Don't look at me like that."

  He met her gaze again. "Can't help it." But even as he said it, he finally stepped back, lifting her away from the tree. He slowly, tantalizingly, lowered her to the ground, his hands sliding along her thighs and hips as he eased her down.

  Her feet hit the ground, and her legs felt shaky and weak. She wanted to grip his arms, but instead she made herself release him. Instinctively, she folded her arms across her chest. "I don't want this to happen between us," she said.

  "Are you so sure?" His eyes were burning hot, and she could see shadows swirling across them, just like she'd seen on the blade of his knife and on his skin, after he'd saved her from the ghost.

  She swallowed. "Eric, I told you. I don't want this."

  "Yeah, I know." He leaned forward, into her space. "But I do. One of us isn't going to get what we want."

  His words hung in the air, a challenge so replete with sensuality and tension that she felt it prickle across her skin. What could she say to that? Because part of her wanted him so badly she could feel her need for him etched in every cell in her body, and she was sure he knew it. "I'm broken when it comes to relationships," she said. "My scars run too deep."

  "I don't want a relationship. I just want you."

  She frowned, her hands going to her hips. "You just want to have sex with me? Just satisfy your lust and then call it a day?"

  He said nothing for the longest time, his eyes boring into hers so intently she felt as if he were stripping her raw. Then finally, he inclined his head ever so slightly. "Yeah, that's all I want."

  Hurt twisted in her heart. "Well, that's not okay—"

  "You said, if it was only sex between us, that would be fine. As I recall, your logic was that sex becomes a problem when it's more than just mindless rutting. Or is my memory flawed? Because I don't think it is."

  She bit her lip as he threw her words back at her. Yes, of course, that was what she'd said, but she'd meant it from her perspective. If she wanted emotional connection, and he gave her only sex, it would break her. There was no way to lie to herself. Despite all her trauma over Walter, and her terror of becoming emotionally invested in another man, Eric was getting under her skin. Sex with him would put her over the limit. "Don't you know anything about women?"

  He cocked an eyebrow. "You're asking a guy if he knows anything about women? Don't you know that to men, women are like this bottomless pit of mystery that we will never figure out, no matter how many centuries we live?"

  She felt the inane urge to laugh again. "Stop it!" She smacked him in the chest. "Stop making me laugh! It's so annoying!" She glared at him as he opened his mouth again, no doubt to disarm her with more audacity. "Here's the deal on women. We equate sex with love, so if you and I have sex, it will make me emotionally attached to you, and I can't do that. Got it?" There. That was crystal clear. Even the most Neanderthal male couldn't fail to understand that logic.

  He studied her. "What if I'm really bad?"

  "Bad?" she echoed, trying to follow his thought processes. "What are you talking about?"

  "What if I'm really bad at sex? What if I completely forget about foreplay, slobber too much when I kiss you, and have a really great orgasm before you're even in the game? Then, I could fall asleep while you're trying to talk to me, and roll away from you when you want to snuggle." His face brightened. "Oh, and I could even shout another woman's name while I climax. Or several women, even. I could just get a phone book and start going through names while I came. Would that work? That kind of sex wouldn't get to you, would it?" He grinned at her. "Want to try it that way?"

  She stared at him. "Are you serious?"

  His face was deadpan. "I'm always serious about sex, Jordyn. There's nothing more important in my life than having sex with women who make me so crazy that I can't even think when I'm around them, or hear their voice, or inhale that sweet, tantalizing fragrance that makes every muscle in my body clench the moment I smell it. And by women, I mean, of course, you. Your scent. Your voice. Your kiss. Your lips." He shrugged. "Yeah, pretty much, sex with you is all that matters, and I'll be completely willing to utterly suck at sex if that will make you happy. You in?" He held out his hand, his expression still completely serious.

  Then, she saw the corner of his mouth twitch ever so slightly. She burst out laughing, and slapped his hand away. "Who are you kidding? Your ego is so huge that you'd never be able to make yourself bad at sex. What if I told people?" She eyed him. "You would promise me bad sex, and then completely break your promise and be totally amazing, wouldn't you? You'd probably give me seventeen orgasms in five minutes just from foreplay alone."

  He pursed his lips. "Seventeen in five minutes? I admit, I'm great at oral sex, but seventeen in five minutes might be a challenge. Six minutes though, no problem." His eyes gleamed with sudden heat. "Is that a challenge? Because I'm up for it."

  Her belly immediately clenched, and heat pooled between her legs as the image of Eric bringing her to climax repeatedly through oral sex flashed into her mind. Seriously. Really? Argh! No! Dammit. How had the conversation turned all the way back to making her want him again? "Just shut up." She shoved past
him, ignoring his deep chuckle, and headed into the apparently haunted shed that held her grandmother's legacy. "We have vampires to deal with, remember? We don't have time for sex."

  "Rumors say vampires are great at sex," Eric commented as he followed her across the clearing. "Seduction, passion, and that bloodlust thing. It's supposed to be pretty wild."

  She glanced back over her shoulder at him. "Didn't you hear me tell you to be quiet?"

  "Sure did." He grinned at her. "But I like pushing your buttons. You're sexy as hell when you put me in my place. I like it."

  "Oh, for heaven's sake." She rolled her eyes at him, but couldn't keep the smile off her face as she approached the shed. She loved how he made her laugh, and his incessant comments about how much he wanted her felt good. He made her feel beautiful, funny, talented, and desirable, and she didn't have the willpower not to appreciate it. It had been a long time since anything had made her want to smile, and Eric seemed to have the knack for bringing her laughter when she needed it most.

  She sighed. She was in trouble, wasn't she? Really deep trouble, and not just from vampires.

  ***

  Jordyn decided it was time to focus on the brother who didn't make her want to tear her clothes off and beg him to ravage her. Tristan needed her help, and heaven help her, so did her entire town if Cicatrice, or other vampires, had come back to reclaim her town.

  Ignoring Eric as he shadowed her so closely that she could feel the heat of his body, Jordyn walked back over to her grandmother's shed and opened the door again. It had banged shut after the encounter with the spirit that her grandmother had apparently trapped.

  Was Eric right? Had Oba been involved with something more than what she'd shared with Jordyn? After all their hundreds of hours together, Jordyn knew there were secrets her grandmother hadn't shared, secrets she'd planned to tell, but that had disappeared forever the day she died. "What didn't you tell me, Oba?" she whispered. "What do I need to know?"

  There was no answer from the darkness, and Jordyn was suddenly viscerally aware of the absence of her grandmother's protective energy that had always cloaked her whenever she'd come. Instinctively, she looked over her shoulder at the clearing. The night was dark. The moon was casting eerie shadows across the swamp. Small pockets of fog hung suspended over the water. Not moving. Just waiting.

  She had a sudden urge to retrieve her items and then leave the area as fast as she could. This wasn't the safe sanctuary it had once been. She thought of the fresh bones on the altar, and knew it was time to get her things and get out. "I'll just grab some stuff," she told Eric as she stepped up to the door. "It'll just be a second."

  Then she turned and looked inside the room that she hadn't been in for more than a decade, the place where she had been protected by an old woman's magic and love long ago. Unexpected tears surged as her gaze fell upon the old, well-worn leather satchel that her grandmother had always, always had by her side, now sitting alone and forgotten on a dusty shelf.

  Oba's bag of tricks, as she used to call it. It was slouched on the center shelf, packed and ready, as it always was. How well she remembered sitting out in the woods with her grandmother, watching avidly as the grizzled old lady explained every item in the bag, painstakingly making Jordyn repeat all the instructions back to her until she was certain that Jordyn knew every rule.

  Her grandmother had been her respite, the only love she'd ever known growing up. She'd never once come to Jordyn's house, but she was always in the woods, always findable whenever Jordyn had needed her. Her cabin, the one she actually lived in and called home, was deep in the bayou, and Jordyn had seen it only one time, when she'd followed her grandmother one night. It had been a small cabin, simple but sturdy, and much homier than Jordyn's shanty had ever been. She'd knocked on the door, preparing to ask her grandmother if she could live with her.

  That hadn't gone well. It was the only time she'd ever seen her grandmother angry, furious that Jordyn had come to the cabin. She'd never gone back, and they'd never spoken about it again.

  The day that Jordyn had come to this clearing and found her grandmother sitting upright, her eyes open, and her hands clasped over her heart, it had taken her a full minute before she'd realized she was dead. Gone forever.

  David had helped bury her, and they'd chosen a site deep in the swamp, as her grandmother had wished. Easing through the bayou on that old boat, with her grandmother's sightless eyes staring at her, had been a memory that had haunted her for years.

  No one had known she'd died. To everyone else, she'd been nothing more than an old woman who had faded back into the earth that she'd thrived upon. Only Jordyn had mourned her. The rest of the world had continued on as it always had. Her father had never even acknowledged that her grandmother existed, and maybe he hadn't even known she did. Jordyn's mother had died when she was two, and her father had refused to discuss anything about her, leaving Jordyn to piece together what hidden elements of her past that she could. Even her grandmother had refused to talk much about Jordyn's mom, saying only that when the time was right, Jordyn would have the answers she sought.

  But then Oba had died.

  And now...Jordyn was back at the shed, crossing the threshold she'd never dared traverse before. She'd never opened the shed herself. She'd never trespassed on her grandmother's realm. But now, it was time. As she reached for the sack she could almost hear Oba hollering at her not to touch the bag. "It's my time now, Oba," she whispered as her fingers closed around the faded leather strap.

  She lifted it, surprised by the weight of it. It was lighter than she remembered.

  "What's in here?" Eric's voice was so close behind her that she jumped.

  She spun around, startled to see him in the doorway, his shoulders filling up the narrow space as if he owned it. "I forgot you were there."

  He cocked an eyebrow. "I give you my best kiss, and three minutes later, I'm invisible? Clearly, I'm going to have to up my game. I'm retracting my offer to give you bad sex. It would crush me forever if I wasn't your greatest fantasy come true." But even as he teased her, he was scanning the inside of the shed, rapidly assimilating every detail about the small space. "This looks like a shrine in here."

  "It was my grandmother's office, in a way." Jordyn shoved the bag at Eric. "Hold this for me."

  He took the bag, but her fingers brushed against his as she handed it over. Electricity seemed to spark through her at the contact, and she jumped back. "Was that you? What did you do?"

  "I didn't do anything." he said. "It just happens with you. I noticed it before." He studied her. "I should ask you what it is."

  "It's not me." Was it? She didn't know. All she knew was that every time he touched her, her entire body hummed with awareness, even when they were ensconced in this tiny shed in the middle of the woods. She glared at him. "Stop touching me."

  He grinned. "I don't think I can promise that. You're just so touchable."

  She couldn't stop the sizzle of anticipation that tingled through her, and she quickly turned away, focusing on gathering some small burlap bags that were scattered on the shelves. She crouched and ran her hands over the wooden floor. She found the right board on her second pass. Excitement pulsed through her as she pressed her finger into the tiny indentation on the top right corner. She grinned at Eric as the board popped out. "I feel like a deviant little girl breaking into forbidden territory. I was never allowed to open this, but she showed me how in case I ever needed to."

  Eric was standing in the doorway, watching the woods, shining his light into the clearing. He glanced at her, then into the hole in the floor. "What's in there?"

  She reached inside, grimacing at the cobwebs wrapping around her fingers. Then she touched the leather-bound book that her grandmother had hidden away. She pulled it out and held it up. "This."

  He shined his light over it. "There's no title. What is it?"

  "Secrets." The secrets she'd never known. It was time. Jordyn stood up, clutching the precious book
to her chest. "Let's go. We need to get out of the woods."

  "You got what you need?" He stepped back just enough to let her pass by, and her shoulder brushed against his chest as she passed. She glanced up at him, but he was looking past her, still watching the woods.

  She followed his glance and saw that a layer of fog was spreading across the swamp. The innocuous little pockets were coming alive, and that wasn't a good thing. "Yeah, time to go."

  She led the way, and they were running by the time they reached the truck. Eric handed her the bag as he started the engine, and then he peeled out, the vehicle humming as he sped along the dirt road. "Go left," she said. "Back to town. We need to get away from the bayou tonight."

  Eric did as she instructed, and she looked back over her shoulder, watching as her childhood faded from sight. Just as they rounded a corner, she thought she saw movement, and she caught her breath.

  Jordyn waited for a long moment, watching behind them to see if anything emerged out of the darkness to follow them. She thought she saw a shadow streak across the road, and she jumped, gripping the headrest. "Please, no," she whispered.

  She continued to watch the road, but nothing else appeared. Not even a rat scurried across the road in the moonlight. It was empty. She waited for several minutes, but she saw nothing else. With a sigh of relief, she turned back toward the front. She must have imagined it.

  Eric glanced over at her. "You thought you saw a shadow move?"

  She nodded. "I'm a little edgy. It was nothing."

  "I don't think so."

  She tensed as she looked at him. "Why not?"

  "Because I saw it, too."

  "You did?" She spun around in her seat, staring behind them again. Her heart was pounding. "What did you see? Was it a specter like the one that came out of the shed?"

  "No." The tires hummed along as he picked up the pace. "It was the size of a man, moving faster than any human can move."

  She stared at him. "Vampire?"

  His fingers were tight on the wheel. "I don't know. I'm guessing that would be bad, if it was?"