Meet Me When the Sun Goes Down (Forged Bloodlines #2)

by Lisa Olsen

  “Please do.” Her eyes narrowed at him before leaving and Bishop had to wonder; would Jenessa become a problem? Still lost in thought as to how to throw Jenessa off the scent, he barely noticed when Mason showed up, plopping into the seat beside him.

  “Ready to go crack some skulls?” The big man asked, a lopsided smile taking most of the menace out of his words. Dressed in his usual tactical garb, he was visibly armed with three pistols that Bishop could see and likely at least one other holdout weapon.

  “Huh? Oh, yeah sure,” Bishop nodded distractedly.

  “You want to go to Smoke and Mirrors first or hit Dead Lazlo’s?”

  “Whatever you want is fine.”

  “I vote for Lazlo’s. It’s too early for the club. Actually, it’s probably too early to hit either of them. You want to get some sparring in first?”

  Snapping out of it, Bishop realized he had someplace he’d much rather be. “Actually no, I forgot, I have something to do, you’re flying solo tonight.” Logging off the computer, Bishop wondered if he had time to make a stop before heading back to Anja before she woke up.

  “Okay spill, what’s got you all grumpycakes tonight?” Mason moved his considerable bulk to block the door.

  “Nothing really, things are actually pretty great for once.”

  “Yeah?” he blinked. “Would this greatness by chance be of the blonde variety? Starts and ends with an A with a big dose of trouble in the middle?”

  “That’s the one,” Bishop grinned. “And if you’ll excuse me, my own brand of trouble is waiting for me back at my place, so…”

  “Well shit,” Mason turned serious for a moment, making no move to leave the doorway. “I wasn’t going to say anything right away, but if you’re bugging out for the night, maybe I should come right out and tell you.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t mean to alarm you, but Nina’s in town.”

  “Antonina is here?” Bishop’s brows rose in surprise. “When did she arrive?”

  “That’s the one,” he admitted with a rueful grin. “I’m not sure when she got here exactly, Cage mentioned it in passing. Normally, I wouldn’t think twice about it, but you know she might be in the mood to cause a mess for your honey after what happened with Kursik.”

  That was an understatement, the blood always ran a little hot with that one. “You’re right on the money there, thanks for telling me. Do you know where she’s staying?”

  “Not at the Fairmont, I’m betting,” Mason snorted. “You want some help tracking her down?”

  Bishop hesitated for only a moment. “Put the word out, but subtle, you get me?” Nina was volatile enough that Mason could make it worse if she thought they were persecuting her.

  “I feel you, man. I can do subtle. Seriously though, do you think she’s in the mood for a little revenge?”

  “Whether or not she is, it’d be suicide for her to try anything after what happened to Kursik,” Bishop sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt the beginnings of a headache.

  “True. You know we can’t officially take a stance even if she does, it’s nothing to do with Order business.”

  “You’re right, this is personal.” The Order’s directives were clear, most vampire justice revolved around an eye for an eye mentality. Unless one of the laws was broken, his hands were tied. “If you want to steer clear of it, I’ll understand.”

  “I got your back, brother. You’d do the same for me, right?”

  “Anytime.”

  *

  Armed with the knowledge of Nina’s arrival, Bishop didn’t go straight back to the apartment as planned. Instead he made the rounds to a few out of the way places Mason might not know about, places a woman with Nina’s tastes might find entertaining. The petite vampire was nowhere to be found, and Bishop didn’t even make discreet inquiries, not wanting to spook Nina should she show up later.

  It was well past full dark when he made his way back to the apartment, expecting to find Anja long gone, off to one of her rehearsals. Instead, he found her fast asleep in his bed, hair fanned across his pillow like a golden cloud.

  Unable to resist, he slipped off his boots, climbing into bed beside Anja, careful not to disturb her. He needn’t have worried, she didn’t move a muscle as he joined her, not even when Bishop lightly stroked her cheek. Her scent enveloped him as he slid under the covers, a mix of pink roses and cloves. An odd combination, but somehow the sweet, spicy scent suited her.

  In the back of his mind he knew there were responsibilities to see to, but for once, he kept them on the back burner. Didn’t he deserve a single night to himself after years of dedicated service? The Order still came first, but maybe he could strike a balance, somehow carving out his own happiness with Anja.

  Slowly Anja threw off the paralysis of her death-like sleep as she came closer to waking. Bishop noticed the soft rise and fall of her chest as her body mimicked life out of habit. Running his fingers across her collarbone, Bishop was gratified to hear a soft sigh of pleasure escape her parted lips. Gently, he touched her forehead and her head fell to one side. Anja instinctively scooted closer to him the moment her body felt him next to her, and Bishop suppressed a groan as she wrapped her leg around his with another breathy little sigh.

  Bishop dared to lay a hand on the flare of her hip, unable to stop himself from that small contact. Unconsciously he breathed with her, thumb brushing over the smooth band of bare skin at her waist. God how he wanted to touch her, really touch her… but he couldn’t bear to do it, not without her consent. For long minutes, he held Anja close, until she stretched languidly, eyes blinking in the uncertain light.

  “Hey,” he smiled. “Sleep well, did you?”

  “Hi,” Anja blanched, taking in their intimate positions. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so… sorry.” Untangling their limbs, she started to scoot away, but Bishop was quicker, wrapping an arm around her waist.

  “I’m not,” he kissed her temple. “Did you have a good dream?”

  “I um, I don’t remember.”

  Bishop’s trained eye could spot her lie a million miles away, but for the life of him he couldn’t understand why she’d lie about something like that. “Listen, I think I might have an idea who’s responsible for breaking into your apartment.”

  “You do?” Anja perked up. “That was fast. Who is it?”

  “A vampire named Antonina, originally from Russia. She’s been around for about eighty years or so, but I’ve never known her to come this far west.”

  “Antonina? Never heard of her,” Anja shook her head. “Why would she be after me?”

  “Well, for starters, she’s Kursik’s progeny.”

  “Oh.” Anja’s brow puckered with worry. “And you think she’s looking for some payback?”

  “It would be stupid of her to try anything overtly violent, not against a vampire as old and strong as you are. But the blood runs a little hot in that family, I wouldn’t put it past Nina to try the thing with the clothes just to tick you off.”

  “What can we do about it? Should I apologize to her? Do vampires do that? Is there a hallmark card for such an occasion? Sorry I killed your dad, have a nice day?”

  “Not really, no,” Bishop chuckled. “I’ve got Mason on the lookout for her. If I can find her I’ll have a chat with her, see what her intentions are. I just wanted to give you a heads up in case you ran into her at the Hart or somewhere. She’s a little volatile, but I don’t think she’ll risk an outright confrontation, not with how dangerous you are.”

  “Dangerous,” Anja snorted. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

  “Think of it like a perk. Most vampires have to wait decades before they establish a reputation.” Bishop grinned at the disgruntled look on her face. She’d become so precious to him so fast, he was willing to trade her anonymity for a fearsome reputation if it meant it’d keep her safe. If anything happened to her now that he’d found her… Bishop didn’t like to think what
it would feel like to lose his shot at happiness after so many years alone.

  “What are you thinking about?” Anja asked, drawing him out of his silence.

  “I’ve been trying to work out if it’ll be worth the trouble to fit you into my life,” he teased, more to see her adorable face scrunch up in fleeting outrage before she realized he was ribbing her. Like it or not, Anja had gotten into his blood, and he couldn’t imagine life without her. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about what you said before, about setting some ground rules. Seeing as how we’re dating now, I think it’s best to set some expectations. Don’t you?”

  Anja immediately relaxed, her fingers lightly tracing an invisible pattern along the length of his arm in the most distracting manner. “Did you have set rules with Carys?”

  It wasn’t a time of his life he liked to talk about, but Bishop could see how she might be curious. “With Carys there were no ground rules. She did as she pleased and that was that.”

  “Didn’t it bother you?”

  “It was a different time,” he shrugged. “She took what she wanted when she wanted, as was her due. There were no consequences to consider, we stayed on the move. It wasn’t my place to question it.” He had no say in who Carys chose to feed on, or often who his own target was. She frequently delighted in making the selection for him. In fact, she seemed to enjoy making him jealous sometimes.

  “But didn’t it bother you?” Anja pressed and Bishop let out a long breath.

  “Of course it did.” Many of the things she’d done and he’d had to do in her name had deeply troubled him, but in time the sting faded.

  “Because I feel the same way.”

  Bishop pushed up onto his elbow, looking down at her in shock. “You want the right to take what you want when you want it?” His stomach clenched with dread at the prospect of watching her repeat some of the debaucheries Carys subjected him to.

  “What? No!” Anja gasped, laying a hand over his heart. “I meant I feel the same way, as in it’d bother me if you made a habit of biting into young, nubile women on a regular basis while we’re together.”

  “Oh.” The ache in Bishop’s chest eased. “I could switch to older decrepit women, would that make you feel better?” he teased, feeling immensely better already.

  “Funny,” Anja replied evenly. “You could switch to blood bags, that would eliminate the temptation altogether.”

  “Sorry, that’s not gonna happen.” Bishop held up his hand when she opened her mouth to press it. “Look, I’m not making apologies for what I am. I am a vampire and I feed on human blood. I don’t kill indiscriminately, and it’s not about making a sexual conquest.” Usually anyway… “So I’ll agree to avoid feeding on females if that makes you happy, but I’m in a dangerous profession, sometimes I won’t have a choice.” It needed to be said.

  “That’s different, you do what you have to do to survive. I’m talking about going to the bar and shopping for victims. No more women like Holly, okay?”

  He barely remembered the woman’s name, but he could appreciate the reasoning behind the request. “Then the same goes for you. No more hunks.” For the life of him he couldn’t remember the name of the man he’d watched her feed upon, only the need to keep her from touching him.

  “Hunks?” Anja blinked, a lopsided smile stretching her lips.

  “They don’t say that anymore, do they?” he winced.

  “No,” she snickered, a full throated laugh soon following. “No more hunks, I promise.” Anja dissolved into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

  “I’ll give you something to laugh about,” Bishop growled, rolling her beneath him, fingers brushing against the tender flesh at her side. Her hands immediately clapped over his, eyes widening as she sputtered to get out the words to make him stop. Bishop easily held Anja’s arms over her head with one hand, pinning her body with his.

  “I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I promise,” she squeaked, wriggling beneath him, driving him mad with want from the feel of her body against his.

  Unable to resist, Bishop covered her mouth with his in a long, deep kiss. Anja instantly calmed, giving up the struggle to entwine her legs with his as the kiss turned carnal. Her mouth was another world, promising dark delights to be had, and Bishop let go of her hands, desperate to feel them on his skin. This time when his hand dipped to her side, it was not to tease but to tempt as he slipped under her shirt to stroke her petal soft skin.

  Right on the heels of the little breathy hitch in her voice, Anja’s eyes snapped open and she pulled back, breaking the kiss. “Bishop, we can’t, not yet, not like this.”

  “Not like what?” His hands stilled immediately, searching her face for some sign that he’d hurt her by mistake.

  “I’m too…” Bishop stared at her in puzzlement, not for the first time wondering what was going on behind those blue eyes of hers. “It’s not that I don’t want to, I do. But not right now,” she added, offering no other explanation for her sudden withdrawal when only seconds before she’s been welcoming him with open limbs.

  “It’s fine,” he tugged her shirt lower, hiding the tempting flesh from sight. “We can wait.” Despite his words he still wanted to kiss her senseless, but if anything, Bishop was a man who knew restraint.

  “I’m not a prude, I swear…”

  “Anja, it’s fine,” he offered her a soft smile. In a way it pleased him that she didn’t want to rush into their physical relationship yet. “In my day the rules of courtship were well defined, I’m used to waiting.” Years of being a vampire had given him the power to take what he wanted, but Bishop recognized their joining would be that much sweeter with a little delayed gratification.

  “Can vampires influence dreams?” Anja asked out of the blue, and it took him a moment to switch tacks.

  “Yes, if you have a connection with the subject, it’s easy enough to do, why?” All of a sudden he understood. She thought he’d had some influence over her steamy dream! No wonder she felt uncomfortable getting more physical with him right afterwards… “I would never do that to you though, it’s an invasion of privacy,” he added earnestly, but she seemed to be barely listening to him.

  “Huh? Oh, I know. I just wondered.” Anja’s brows drew together as if unhappy with his reply nevertheless. She looked almost angry. Had she wanted him to enter her dreams? “I should probably get to rehearsal before it gets too late.”

  “Alright.” Rolling aside, he let Anja up, watching her curiously as she slipped on her shoes and coat. “I should get back to work too. I’ll see you later then?”

  “Oh yes, definitely,” Anja smiled brightly, but didn’t approach the bed for a goodbye kiss. “Later.”

  Women… After four hundred and sixty-four years he might have thought to understand them a little better, but Bishop was still as lost to their power as ever.

  Chapter Ten

  I never thought of myself as a horribly weak person where the opposite sex was involved. Always a one man kind of woman, I thought people who cheated were beyond reprehensible, especially after my experience with Trent. Of course looking back, maybe I wasn’t made of such high moral stuffs after all? Maybe I’d just never had the opportunity with my geeky girl status growing up?

  Whatever the case, I felt lower than dirt for betraying Bishop, even if it was subconsciously done, every time my eyes closed. Day after day I found myself in the steamiest, most compromising dreams. Despite the fact that I wanted nothing to do with Jakob in real life, he seemed to have such a hold on me in dreams… I always succumbed to his charms, to my great shame.

  Unable to bring myself to deepen our relationship to something more physical while my mind still threw me into one sensual dream after another featuring my Sire instead of my sweetheart, I kept Bishop at arm’s length until I could figure out what to do about it. Knowing vampires could influence dreams meant Jakob lurked somewhere close by, but somehow I couldn’t tell Bishop about it. Bishop, for his part, was very patient with me. Actually, I think
maybe he preferred taking it a little slower, still coming to grips with the idea of dating me publicly.

  Not that we went to the coffee shop and held hands or anything so public for the most part anyway. Most nights we still spent apart, with him out working and me either at school or my apartment. But come the dawn, or after class, I made my way to his apartment to sleep in the security of his arms. It was the closest thing I’d had to a steady boyfriend since Trent.

  I don’t know if it was because I spent my days at Bishop’s apartment, or if Antonina or whoever stalked me gave up out of boredom, but I didn’t get any more breakins at my place. Still, Bishop gave me the same speech every day about watching my back and not venturing into dark alleys by myself in the middle of the night. He even went so far as to make me promise to text him whenever I got home and whenever I got to school. I tried to take it in the spirit it was meant (I assumed because he cared about me) instead of as controlling behavior, but it rankled to have to report in like a child sometimes.

  Rehearsals for the concert soon encompassed my waking thoughts entirely, and I spent all my free time practicing when I wasn’t at school. I’m sure I drove Bridget and my neighbors nuts, and it would have been nice to practice at Bishop’s place since he had the piano, except I couldn’t sing in front of him. I don’t know why, but the thought of Bishop watching me singing all alone sent my nerves into overdrive. Still, I wanted him to come to the concert, and I tried to tell myself it’d be alright since I’d be singing in a group as usual.

  The night of the concert came, and I wore a pretty, white party dress in a fifties style with a full skirt that fell past my knees (we were allowed to wear either black, white, or a combination for the performance), bought with some of my mystery money. Nerves already a little jangled, I noticed with some dismay I was the only girl wearing white in the entire choir. Sure, plenty of the guys had white shirts on, in fact most of them did, but all the other girls opted for elegant black dresses. As we took the stage for the final dress rehearsal, I stood out like a stork among the ravens.