Owning the Night

by Ann Jacobs

  Since Alex had spent months on end chasing the Fox around the world, he found the notion that Reynard would stay in one place and elude his hunters instead of meeting them head-on hard to imagine. But he had no reason to doubt Philippe’s account of where the wily bastard was and what he’d been doing. The d’Argent clansman who’d been stalking Reynard since he’d left his lair in the Carpathian Mountains hadn’t seen the killer at all after his shaky landing on the shoreline of Biscayne Bay.

  But since then, every few days another hot blonde had shown up dead on the beach, drained of her blood. Each one’s limp palm had held Reynard’s signature white rose. So Alex had no doubt the Fox was somehow managing to slip from under Philippe’s vigilant observation to get his nourishment. Nourishment he seemed to need a lot more frequently than he had before Alex and his kinsmen had nearly destroyed him.

  When the bartender slid his drink across the bar, Alex looked up. “Sorry, this is all we’ve got tonight. Don’t get a lot of call for blood.”

  For a minute Alex watched the guy make his way down the bar. Claude had been right. On South Beach nothing much seemed out of the ordinary. Not vampires, and not the shaky mortal at the other end of the bar who snatched a tiny bag of white powder from the swarthy guy next to him as if it were a lifeline. The addict, like Alex and his fellow vampires, moved freely in a sea of cops and derelicts, of vacation-time pleasure seekers and those who preyed on them.

  A sliver of golden moon hung low over the ocean, its light faint compared with tiki lights and neon signs that dotted the beach and blinked along the highway. Alex sipped the very ordinary but seemingly fresh A positive the bartender had delivered. No one paid him any mind. Not him and not the man who now was snorting his poison. It seemed that, in this place, the mortal patrons wore blinders to anything but their own needs, their own pleasures.

  He doubted any of them would have their guard up enough that they might sense the presence of an evil vampire like Reynard. They’d become too blasé, too caught up in their own pursuits of pleasure to sense mortal danger in their midst. The Fox had picked an ideal place to disappear. A killing ground full of long-legged blondes with which to satisfy his hunger—and his madness.

  Back in Chicago, he, Stefan, and Claude must have come closer to destroying Reynard than they’d realized at the time. Alex was certain now that Louis no longer had the energy to wing it from city to city, taking out one victim and then moving on. When Alex made mind contact with his two kinsmen, they agreed it was likely that the evil vampire had been damaged sufficiently that he’d never completely healed, and that he now had to hunker down in one place to feed an ever-growing appetite for blood.

  That place was here. Miami’s South Beach, where tourists came in droves for a taste of the forbidden. Where vampires could blend in with the locals—businessmen and undercover cops and drug lords—and attract no particular attention to themselves. A place where hot blonde showgirls and tourists out for a thrill could be found at every bar, on every stretch of the clean white sand.

  The nearby neon cast eerie colors over two undercover cops who were making a beeline for the bar. Idiots. The way they looked, they might as well have been wearing blues and badges. Anybody with eyes could make them a mile away. The nondescript guy’s ill-fitting jacket did a piss-poor job of concealing a nine-millimeter semiautomatic in a shoulder holster. And his female companion, a short, skinny redhead, had on a beat-up blazer despite the warmth of the night air. Who the fuck but cops wore jackets in Miami—in July, yet?

  Hey, what the hell? The cops were heading straight for him. Alex remembered having spoken to the man soon after his arrival at the bar, but the woman was new. From her body language, he gathered she was the one in charge. She wasn’t the sort of submissive beauty Alex usually chose for his liaisons, but something about her—maybe it was that fall of silky auburn hair his fingers itched to fondle—made his sex twitch. He ordered it to behave and bestowed one of his best smiles on the little firebrand.

  “What can I do for you tonight, beautiful?”

  “Cut the crap and tell me where you’ve been for the past three hours.” When she perched her hands on her hips, her blazer gaped open, the tank top underneath it giving him an eyeful of surprisingly full, round breasts—and a very businesslike Sig Sauer automatic in a black shoulder holster. As though she were laying down a gauntlet, she slapped a shiny badge onto the bar. “I’m Mara Leone, detective lieutenant, Metro-Dade homicide division. Come on, spill it.”

  Something about her attitude made Alex pretty damn sure she wasn’t inclined to believe him no matter what he might say, but he’d give it his best shot. “I’ve been sitting here for the past hour, watching the stars and nursing this draft. Before that I was traveling here from Paris, checking in at my hotel and resting up for a night of partying.”

  “What about last Thursday? Last Tuesday? And a week ago tonight? Where were you then?” She met his gaze, her lips set in what she must have thought was a menacing frown.

  Oh, shit. She’d made him as a vamp—at some point he must have forgotten to take care and keep his fangs retracted—and from the direction her questioning was taking, he gathered she thought she’d just cornered herself a serial killer. He’d better talk fast or he’d end up cuffed and hauled to jail, unless he wanted to pull a vampire disappearing act. “Cool it. You’ve got the wrong vampire, baby. I was having a great time in Paris until three days ago, when I came here looking for the same bad egg who’s got your ass bent out of shape. I’m Alexandre d’Argent.” Smiling his sweetest, Alex extended his hand. “And by the way, you are beautiful.”

  She snorted, a sound that should have turned him off but didn’t. “So are you going to tell me how you heard about these murders?”

  This cop wasn’t about to step aside, or to give an inch of control over her case to him—unless he used vampire compulsion to seduce her. It wasn’t his usual method of obtaining bed partners, but he figured Mara would be better off at his side than on her own, impeding his own hunt for the Fox. He met her gaze, willed her to give in. “Members of my clan have been after Louis Reynard since he started his killing rampage nearly two years ago.”

  • • •

  He sounded sincere—too much so—but Mara had her doubts. The vampire sitting calmly at the bar sipping a draft of blood had her heart beating double time. Not just because he had the most compelling smile, or because the twinkle in his deep green eyes seemed to be focused exclusively on her. It wasn’t the ripple of powerful biceps that she sensed he did deliberately, just for her. And it wasn’t only the impressive bulge of his sex that drew her eye beyond muscular jeans-clad thighs and his casually spread legs. Nope. Alexandre d’Argent, if that was his real name, was the epitome of a vampire seducer . . . an expert at the art of vampire compulsion, so practiced he wouldn’t need to exert conscious effort to draw a woman in.

  Like Dante, who’d come and gone twelve years ago and hadn’t bothered to give her back her heart. Mara glanced over at Ben, whose eyes had widened with undisguised interest when he heard the name “Reynard.”

  “Pity you haven’t managed to stop him.” She kept her tone deliberately noncommittal, even though she couldn’t help getting aroused when she imagined how it would feel if he rubbed that short, crisp-looking beard and mustache against her intimate flesh.

  “Yes, it is. Which is why I’m here to finish the job.” He picked up her badge and traced the raised numbers on the shiny brass with his thumb.

  How would it feel if he used that thumb to trace along her cheek? Over her nipples? Mara’s sex clenched, oblivious to reason, to anything but the mindless desire this vampire kindled with such a simple gesture. Stop it! You’ve got a job to do, and it won’t get done if you get tangled up with Alexandre d’Argent.

  Wait. Mara suddenly realized she’d heard that name before. Ben. He’d said members of the d’Argent clan had gone against Reynard three-on-one last year. That was how Reynard had ended up so battered no one had beli
eved he might live to kill again. “What makes you think you can come on my turf and destroy this vampire? We’ve got laws to take care of criminals. Prisons.”

  Alex reamed her with that emerald gaze. “Lieutenant Leone, there’s not a prison on earth that can hold Louis Reynard. Like it or not, you need me.”

  Mara didn’t want to need a vampire. Dante. No, Alex. She didn’t want her heart beating double time, the way it was doing now, when Alex met her gaze and smiled. She didn’t want to bare her throat, feel the pressure of his fangs, the incredible sexual rush when he pierced her. And she certainly didn’t want him to invade every orifice she possessed. So why was it she couldn’t break this sensual spell?

  “Boss?” Ben’s concerned voice dragged Mara from a world where she’d sworn she’d never go again. “He’s right. If we’re going to take down Reynard, we need to work with him.”

  Vampire compulsion. She understood it. Ben didn’t. He felt it, though. Mara sensed his capitulation in his voice, and in the way he looked at d’Argent with rapt interest. A picture came to mind of Ben’s sweet young fiancée—Susan something or other, she’d never been able to remember the girl’s name. “Go on back to the station, Ben. I’ll be the one working with the vampire.”

  “But—”

  “If you argue, Braunstein, I’ll have you walking a beat in Liberty City.”

  “Damn it. I was the one who figured out we were looking for Louis Reynard.”

  Almost a head taller than Ben, Alexandre stood and stared down at him. “Good for you. Now go back and stick your nose into your computer. Solve another crime or two and leave Reynard to Ms. Leone and me. Mara, come with me.” Like Ben, Mara felt the compulsion that flowed as smoothly as d’Argent’s words.

  • • •

  The eastern sky was beginning to lighten as they walked toward Alex’s hotel, the velvety black of night transitioning to soothing tones of pale gray and lavender. The moon hadn’t yet given way to sun, but dawn was breaking. Alex figured Reynard would be back in his hideout by now, sleeping off his latest overindulgence. He’d contacted Philippe, told him to find a way inside the old mansion, locate Reynard, and not to let their prey out of his sight.

  “Where are we going?”

  Alex squeezed the lieutenant’s elbow. “To my hotel. Might as well get some rest before we go after him again. He won’t be going anywhere for a while. Sunlight hurts Reynard even more than it does most of us vampires.” Her muscles tensed beneath his fingers, as though his touch confused her as much as his own compulsion to take her perplexed him. Despite her silky auburn hair—his favorite color—Mara Leone wasn’t his usual type of bedmate.

  Idly, he delved into her mind. She’d had a vampire lover a long time ago, one who’d left her emotionally bruised and bitter. Fuck. That explained why she’d sent the young detective away, to protect him from the disillusionment she felt was inevitable if he stayed and joined them en ménage. “I’m not like any other vampire you may have known, sweetheart. We’ll get the bastard before he kills again. I promise.”

  “We must.”

  The strain evidenced by her tone of voice made him want to take her in his arms, soothe away the tension . . . replace it with tension of another, sexual kind. It also engendered a need in him that he didn’t quite understand—a compulsion to wrap her in his protection, keep her from harm. And he wanted her to do it on her own.

  “Trust me,” he coaxed, but he knew asking wasn’t going to cut it. The walls of hurt and suspicion that other vampire had forced her to create for herself somewhere along the way were too tough for a mere request to break through. Alex grasped her chin and tilted her face to where she had to look at him. Without the slightest bit of conscious thought he looked into her solemn brown eyes and put her under a vampire spell.

  “I don’t think so, vampire.”

  “Why not, Mara? I can tell I affect you, as much as you’d like to deny it.”

  “I—I can’t. Stop trying to seduce me. It won’t work.” She looked away from him, as though determined not to give in to desires she couldn’t hide.

  He could tell she was fighting her own need to forget about duty, drown in the emotions that flowed between them like honey. “I think it’s you who’s trying to seduce me. I promise, I won’t resist too hard.”

  That drew a shaky smile, and then she reached out and touched his hand. “You’re impossible, you know. I’ve got a killer to stop before he takes another victim.”

  “I know that bastard won’t venture out in the light of day. We may as well explore this attraction between us—or get some rest before night falls.” He felt her fingers tighten around his and sensed her resistance weakening. “Come on, I won’t do anything you don’t invite me to do.”

  “Promise?”

  He put an arm around her and led her into his room. “I promise to give you only pleasure.” He closed the curtains to keep out the morning sun, then undressed her as though she were a child. First the ugly blazer, then the shoulder holster. “You know, this thing’s pretty much useless against one of us,” he commented as he laid it on the bedside table.

  “So I’ve been told. I’ve never been on a vampire hunt before. Guess I’ll have to requisition some silver bullets and wooden stakes.” She sounded softer, compliant now that she’d shed that tough cop veneer.

  He ran his hands up her arms, tracing the veins, feeling the toned muscles that didn’t begin to compensate for the fragility of the bones beneath them. “Scratch the silver bullets. I already tried using them on Reynard. They didn’t faze him.”

  “You mean that’s just legend, that silver bullets kill vampires?” When he connected with her mind once more, he learned she was thinking about her lover, who’d apparently succumbed to a barrage of them from a team of mortal hunters. Alex regretted having stirred her hurtful memories.

  He laughed, not wanting her to know he’d read her mind. “There are vampires . . . and then there are vampires. Some go down like sitting ducks when you pump them full of silver bullets. Others don’t. There are only two certain ways to destroy almost any sort of vampire.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes wide as he spread her collar and tackled the buttons down the front of her sleeveless white blouse. “And those would be?”

  “I think I’ll keep that information to myself, sweetheart.” Her skin felt like silk beneath his fingers as he slid the blouse off her shoulders and slid down the shoulder strap of a surprisingly seductive white lace bra. “You’re not nearly as tough as you try to sound, are you?”

  “Yes. I am.” She didn’t sound all that tough, not when she was gasping for breath as he cupped her breasts and ran his thumbs over the hard, pink nipples. “Please.”

  The word came out between little moans that were driving Alex crazy. He wanted her to want him because she wanted him, not because she had no choice. “Please what? Do you want me to hurry? Rip this skirt and whatever you’re wearing under it off, and nibble your clit? Suck these beautiful breasts? Or would you rather have me sink my fangs into your inviting little throat and give you a vampire kiss?” The tiny scars he could barely see annoyed him, a lasting reminder he wouldn’t be the first vampire to have claimed the feisty redhead.

  “Oh, yes. Please hurry. I want to be naked. I want you naked.”

  Chapter Two

  “Hush. I’m already so hard I’m about to burst.” Alex slid his hands down, fumbled with the waistband of her skirt. Gave up. “Sorry, I’ll get you a new outfit,” he said as he ripped the thing off with one furious tug.

  His usually quiet heart pounded in his chest when he looked at her, all pale and creamy and—fuck it—sexier than any of the Parisian club dancers who frequently entertained him for a night or two. His erection strained against his jeans.

  He could take her now. Her female musk had filled his nostrils the moment he dragged her plain cotton panties down her legs, and a fine sheen of sweat dampened her brow. It was the small tremor in her hands that made him hesitate, igno
re his own need, delve into her thoughts and dreams and . . .

  Fuck. She was still thinking of her other vampire lover. Missing him. Wanting Alex, but afraid. Alex clenched his fists as though the intruder to her mind were in the room, in the flesh, so he could pummel him the way the dead vampire’s memory was pounding at Mara’s heart and mind. “Say my name,” he ordered, reaching out and taking those hands, stilling their nervous movement. “Tell me you know who’s making love with you tonight.”

  “Alexandre.” Barely a whisper, the word came out like a prayer. An admonition he read clearly in her frightened eyes. Please don’t hurt me.

  This brash, no-nonsense mortal had turned to a quivering mass of nerves once stripped from the ugly armor of her trade. Instead of scooping her up and claiming her right now, with no foreplay and none of the niceties as he’d intended, he knelt at her feet and gently spread her legs.

  “I won’t hurt you, I will only make you feel good.” Leaning toward her and drawing her hips forward, he caught her clit between his front teeth and flailed it with his tongue. Conscious of his own need but determined to drive the ghost of some vampire of long ago from her memories, he stroked along her inner thighs with both hands, pausing to claim the sweet spot behind her knees before moving downward to encircle her slender ankles, soak in the mortal heat that emanated from every inch of her delectable flesh. She shifted, widening her stance, giving him room to move in closer, nudge away her neatly trimmed auburn pubic curls and lick the pearly moisture from her swollen bud.

  He felt as though he was ready to explode. Still he took his time. Before he took her he wanted her hot, so hot for him that nothing of that faceless vampire’s memory stood in the way of her pleasure. With him. He found her wet, hot core and tongued her there, all the time touching, caressing, listening as much as he could in this painful state of arousal to the words she was thinking but wouldn’t say.