Twice Bitten

by Lynsay Sands

  Wyatt had pulled her closer, eager to fully explore that passion. But instead, he'd found himself breaking the kiss he was so enjoying and turning to nibble at her collarbone. That had not been what he'd wanted to do. What he'd wanted was to press her against the wooden rail, and grind himself up against her as he thrust his tongue into her mouth. If he'd broken the kiss at all, it would have been to work her shirt open and claim those full, soft breasts that had been pressing against him, nudging his memories of other times he'd enjoyed them, not to nibble at her collarbone like some weirdo. Where the hell had that come from?

  Bewildered at his own incomprehensible behavior, Wyatt pushed through the gate into the side yard just in time to see Elspeth disappear around the front of the house. Mouth tightening, he picked up his pace, determined to reach her and . . .

  Well, frankly, Wyatt didn't know what he wanted. He knew he wanted to kiss her again. He'd kissed and bedded a lot of women in his life but not one had affected him like Elspeth Pimms had with just a kiss. That was something special, something crazy hot. How the hell had she found it within herself to break the kiss and walk away? And not just this time. What about the first time they met? Did she really not remember? Had he been that forgettable to her? Did she not experience the same need and passion he did?

  "Don't come near me."

  Those sharp words from Elspeth made Wyatt slow and glance around as he reached the corner of the house. He thought they were meant for him, until he saw that Elspeth was rushing down the steps of the front porch with her mother on her heels.

  Wyatt narrowed his eyes on the pair. Neither of them even seemed to realize he was there, and the way Elspeth scowled over her shoulder at her mother told him that Martine was the one she was warning off. That was interesting.

  Damn, the woman was fast if she'd rushed inside and upstairs to get her purse and got back down before he'd caught up to her, Wyatt thought with amazement as he noted that she was now carrying one. And then Martine stopped on the stairs and growled, "Just stop and listen to me, Elspeth."

  When Elspeth halted at the sidewalk and turned to glare at her mother, curiosity made Wyatt stop walking to watch the pair. This was looking almost like a standoff, or pistols at dawn. Martine appeared determined, and Elspeth seemed ready to run.

  "You are being ridiculous," Martine said after a pause. "You should have used him while you had the chance. Your pain would be considerably eased now and you could wait on the delivery from Bastien rather than rush out to get--"

  "I am not breaking the Council's laws and I don't know why you're trying to make me. If I used him like that, it would be--"

  "This is an emergency," Martine interrupted firmly.

  "No, it's not. Not really," Elspeth argued. "It might be close enough to one that the Council might not execute me. But they'd probably at least ban me from ever living here or--Oh," she said with sudden understanding. "That's what you're trying to do. You're trying to get me to bite Wyatt so that Uncle Lucian would be forced to ban me from North America."

  Wyatt's eyes widened incredulously. He was having a little difficulty following this conversation. What had Martine meant when she'd said Elspeth should have "used him" while she had the chance? Used who? Him? As far as he knew he was the only "him" around. But used him how? And how would it ease pain? And what delivery? None of this was making any sense to him.

  "So, you'd rather see me executed than out from under your control?" Elspeth sounded bitter.

  "Stop being melodramatic. Lucian wouldn't execute you," Martine said, her expression tight. "You are his niece and this is close enough to an emergency that he'd choose the lesser punishment and ban you."

  "Probably," Elspeth agreed gloomily. "Unless enough people raised a fuss and suggested he was playing favorites. They might point to what happened with Uncle Jean Claude, and suggest Uncle Lucian shouldn't be allowed to decide my case, and then whoever was given the decision might have me executed to prevent anyone thinking they play favorites with Argeneaus too," she pointed out. "But you're willing to risk that just to keep control of me, aren't you?"

  "That will not happen," Martine insisted, looking angry.

  "No, it won't. Because I don't intend to break any Council laws," Elspeth said in a cold voice and turned to hurry toward the driveway, widening the distance between her and her mother.

  Wyatt didn't hesitate, but immediately chased after her. He cast a wary glance toward the woman on the porch as he did, but her focus was wholly on her daughter, her expression strained and concentrated in a way that kind of gave him the heebie-jeebies as he followed Elspeth down the driveway. She was heading for a white Mazda, a cute little two-door sports car, he noted and frowned at the hunted look Elspeth cast over her shoulder toward the house.

  Eyebrows rising, Wyatt glanced over his shoulder as well and saw that Martine had given up her concentrated expression for one that was . . . vexed. That was the only description he could think that fit. The woman looked vexed, and for some reason, in that moment, she made him think of the thwarted evil stepmother from a Disney film.

  Almost embarrassed by the thought, Wyatt slowed as he neared Elspeth. She had reached the driver's side door, but paused as she spotted him approaching. Expression wary, she withdrew keys from her coat pocket and murmured, "Thank you for bringing me my jacket."

  "No problem," Wyatt said easily, and then debated what to say next. He was quite sure that straight-out asking what the women had been talking about was not going to get him the answers he sought. It also wouldn't get him another one of those amazing kisses they'd shared, which he probably shouldn't be worrying about right now, but--

  Well, hell, he was a guy, and kissing, along with everything that might follow, was pretty much taking up ninety percent of his mind at the moment. It was purely Elspeth's fault. Just standing close and looking at her was making him want to experience that kiss again.

  Christ, he'd always been offended when he heard women claim men thought with their dicks, but that was what he was doing right now, Wyatt acknowledged with self-disgust.

  "Did you want something?"

  Wyatt shifted his gaze back to Elspeth at her tense question, and then simply asked, "Are you all right?"

  "Yes, I'm just . . . I have to go to work," she muttered, avoiding his gaze.

  Elspeth was a terrible liar, he decided with amusement. "I'm sure Gran said you start work around eight or nine at night and it's barely even six thirty yet."

  "Yes, well, I have to . . . pick up something first, so I'm leaving a little early tonight," she muttered.

  This time she didn't avoid his eyes and he was quite sure she was telling the truth. She planned to go straight to work from wherever she was headed now. But she wasn't comfortable even discussing whatever she was doing first. She looked half-guilty, as if she was giving away something she shouldn't, and he suddenly recalled her mentioning an emergency earlier. He was pretty sure she wouldn't explain if he asked her about it, so he let that go for now and simply said, "Right. Well, I was just going to run out and pick up some flowers or something for Gran as an apology for forcing Oscar on her tonight. I could pick up whatever you need while I'm at it and save you a trip."

  "Flowers?" she said dubiously. "At this hour? Most flower shops close at five or six and--as you said--it's almost six thirty now."

  "I stopped at a gas station on my way in from the airport yesterday and they had flowers there. I was just going to go grab some of those for her," he said, making it up quickly.

  "Oh, yeah, gas station flowers are really going to make up for Oscar," Elspeth said, rolling her eyes.

  "Maybe not, but it's a start," he said defensively. "I'll get her something nicer tomorrow."

  "All you need to give her is love and support. That's what she truly wants from you," Elspeth said softly. "Your grandmother is a wonderful woman. She's perfectly capable of looking after herself, and she needs you to believe that."

  "I do," he said gruffly. "At least, I'm st
arting to believe it."

  "Well, good," she muttered, and opened her car door.

  A dark, rust-colored stain on the white leather of the driver's seat immediately caught Wyatt's eye and he stiffened. It looked like dried blood to him, but he only got a quick look before she slid into the vehicle and sat on it.

  "I have to go."

  Wyatt shifted his gaze to her face to see that she was eyeing him a little anxiously.

  When he didn't respond, she added, "But thank you for the offer to pick up what I need. It was kind. I'll see you soon."

  "Yeah, soon," Wyatt said and then, realizing that he was holding the top of her door, he released it. She immediately pulled it closed. Wyatt eyed her briefly through the window as she started the engine, and then he turned to continue down the driveway. He'd parked on the road rather than block the parking spots allotted to the renters when he'd arrived the day before. But now that he knew the basement apartment hadn't yet been rented out again, he'd park in the spot meant for that apartment's tenant when he returned later . . . after following Elspeth to wherever she was going. The woman had secrets, and he planned to find out what they were before he kissed her again . . . and hopefully bedded her. Maybe.

  Wyatt grimaced at that last word, but knew it was true. He wanted to know whether she really didn't remember him or not, and what the hell she and her mother had been talking about with the using him and execution talk, but he wasn't fooling himself. If Elspeth got back out of the car right now and offered herself to him, he'd probably be hard-pressed to recall the questions he wanted answered. His mind would no doubt shift to lizard brain and his concentration would all be on the quickest way to get her clothes off, and whether he dared just do her right there on the front lawn, or whether he could find it in himself to take the time to try to find somewhere to do it that wasn't the spare bedroom in his grandmother's apartment, or her bedroom in her apartment with her mother and sisters there.

  He might be able to make it to the backyard, Wyatt supposed, glancing around the quiet street. It would give them a small semblance of privacy for him to rip her clothes off and revel in her body.

  The sound of the Mazda's engine drew Wyatt from his thoughts as he reached the SUV he'd rented. He saw Elspeth bring it to a halt at the foot of the driveway and look both ways as he slid into his own vehicle and started the engine. Spotting him in the SUV, she tossed him an anxious smile and wave, and then pulled onto the road, headed in the direction his vehicle was pointed.

  Wyatt glanced back at the house to see Martine's shoulders sag as she turned to reenter the house. His gaze slid from the despondent woman to Elspeth's Mazda, and then he shifted into gear and pulled out to head up the street behind the little car, but his mind was replaying the entire encounter in his head. The shared kiss, the argument he'd overheard, the stain on Elspeth's car seat.

  Wondering if that stain really had been the dried blood it looked like, Wyatt made sure to keep a safe distance between their vehicles. He was determined to find out where the woman was going, and was happy to play detective to do it.

  Twenty minutes later Wyatt found himself in downtown Toronto. It was nearly another ten minutes, though, before Elspeth pulled into a multilevel parking lot.

  Wyatt didn't pull in behind her. Instead, he glanced around at the businesses nearby as he continued up the road. He turned at the first cross street, circled around, and turned back onto the road just as she hurried out of the parking garage. He'd barely noticed her rushing toward the street when the car in front of him stopped abruptly. Slamming on his brakes to avoid hitting the white sedan, Wyatt watched Elspeth rush across the road in front of the stopped vehicle. Traffic coming in the opposite direction had stopped as well, he noted with surprise. Toronto drivers weren't usually this polite or accommodating, he was sure. At least, cars stopping to let jaywalkers pass wasn't something they did in Vancouver as a rule.

  As he watched, Elspeth gained the opposite curb and hurried through a bloodred door fronting an otherwise nondescript building. Wyatt's eyes ran over the small unassuming sign above the door and he frowned as he read, The Night Club.

  A loud honk behind him drew Wyatt back to the fact that traffic was moving again. Removing his foot from the brake, he let the rental ease forward, but cast another glance at the door Elspeth had slipped through as he went. What the hell could Elspeth be "picking up" in a nightclub? Besides booze and men, that is. Surely the emergency hadn't been her nipping out for a drink or a quickie before work?

  Scowling over the possibility, Wyatt took another spin around the block.

  Four

  Elspeth blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to adjust to the much dimmer interior of The Night Club as she stumbled to the bar along the back. Her eyes weren't adjusting as quickly as they should, a result of her being low on blood, so she switched to rubbing her eyes in an effort to move the process along. She sensed, rather than saw, the bartender approach.

  "A Virgin Bloody Mary without the Worcestershire, Tabasco, or lemon," she requested quietly.

  "So . . . blood?" the bartender asked, his deep voice full of amusement.

  Elspeth nodded with a sigh and breathed, "Yes, please," as she gave up on her eyes and sank onto the nearest barstool. She was staring wearily at the black stone countertop of the bar when a tall, blue-tinted glass of red liquid was set in front of her. Elspeth pounced on it like a starving person on food and quickly gulped it down.

  "Another?" the bartender asked as she lowered the now empty glass.

  Nodding, Elspeth braced her hands on the bar top as the blood hit her system. She was struck with a brief light-headedness and a sense of being off-kilter. It was like standing on a listing ship and trying to keep your balance, an effect of her system rushing to collect the blood in her stomach and redistribute it.

  "Here you are, El," the bartender said, setting a fresh glass in front of her.

  She glanced up with surprise on hearing her name and then stilled, her eyes widening incredulously as she gaped at the giant on the other side of the bar. Six-foot-seven with a twelve-inch green Mohawk that took him to seven-foot-seven, the man was as wide as a linebacker with his padding on, and awash in tattoos and piercings. G.G. She'd encountered him many times at The Night Club back in London, an establishment that, like this one, was geared toward immortals and had a doorman who usually steered mortals away. It was a place for her kind to relax and enjoy blood-based mixed drinks in the company of other immortals. Her parents had taken her and her sisters to The Night Club in London to celebrate special occasions like birthdays, graduation, etc., but Elspeth had also been there many times on her own while at university. G.G. had always manned the door, and had always been very nice to her. He'd often even joined her inside and chatted with her about life and such on her visits.

  "G.G.," she breathed with amazement. "What are you doing here?"

  "I own the place now," he said with pride.

  "Really? How? Why?" she asked with amazement. "Did you sell The Night Club in London?"

  G.G. shook his head. "I still own it, and I've done well there. So when Lucern called up saying he was interested in selling The Night Club here, I jumped at it."

  "Wait a minute. Lucern owned this place?" she asked with confusion. "My cousin, Lucern Argeneau?"

  G.G. chuckled at her expression, but nodded.

  "I had no idea," Elspeth admitted, her eyes wide.

  "I guess no one knew," G.G. said with a shrug. "I gather he was afraid certain relatives might take advantage if they knew he was the owner."

  Amusement curved Elspeth's lips. "I can see that. Thomas probably would have before he met Inez. If for no other reason than that it would have annoyed Lucern."

  "I suspect he was more concerned about Jean Claude than anyone else," G.G. said quietly.

  "Oh, yes," Elspeth said, frowning as she thought of her now dead uncle. There was nothing more unpleasant than an immortal with a drinking problem, unless it was one with a drinking problem who
was mean as a snake after consuming a drunk's blood. Although, to be fair, Jean Claude had been mean as a snake when sober too. Pushing thoughts of that unpleasant man away, she forced a smile and said, "So you bought it, but still own The Night Club in London too?"

  G.G. nodded again. "I like London. But this is a good investment. Besides, my parents will soon have to move out of London again for that whole 'decade thing' you immortals got going on, to keep mortals from noticing you aren't aging, and they were talking about Canada as a possible destination for the next ten years, so this seemed fortuitous. I can travel back and forth between England and Canada, keep an eye on both places, and visit my parents while doing it whether they're there or here. It's all good."

  "Yes," Elspeth agreed with a nod, and then shook her head and said, "I can't believe Lucern owned it. He isn't The Night Club type."

  "It was one of his investments," G.G. said with a shrug. "But now that he and Kate are going to start a family, he's decided to divest himself of some of his businesses. This is one he felt needed more time than he might have in the near future."

  "He and Kate are pregnant?" she asked with amazement. Good Lord, the man knew more about her family than she did.

  "Not yet," he said at once. "But Kate is retiring from Roundhouse Publishing later this year and they're going to start trying for a baby then."

  "Oh." Elspeth nodded, not surprised to hear Kate was retiring. She'd worked at Roundhouse when she'd met Lucern and been turned, and it had been more than the usual ten years since then. It was time for her to move on. Otherwise she risked someone picking up on the fact that she wasn't aging.

  "So, I'd heard you'd moved here to Canada," G.G. said with a grin. "Good for you. I think getting away from your mother will be good for you."

  "You heard?" Elspeth asked with amazement. She hadn't told him. She hadn't been to The Night Club in London the last four years. Not since the family had moved out of London for the family home in York. But she supposed she shouldn't be surprised he knew about her move. The immortal grapevine was faster and more efficient than the mortal grape vine. Everyone seemed to know everyone's business.