It was Riley who wanted more than just sex.
While she might be disillusioned when it came to men, deep down she was still nursing those pie-in-the-sky dreams about a knight in shining armor. A hero to swoop into her life and carry her off into the sunset.
Not that she wanted him to be that man. Instead, she had her sights set on a mild-mannered, nonthreatening weakling who would jump when she gave the order. A guy completely his opposite.
It wasn’t that she saw him as her leading man. The problem was that, for a few crazy seconds, he’d wanted to play the part.
When she’d slid her arms around his neck and stared deep into his eyes as if he were the love of her life, he’d actually let himself get caught up in the fantasy, as well.
He’d liked having a woman look at him with something other than lust in her eyes. He’d liked it too damned much. So much that he’d forgotten himself for those few moments when the hunger had reared its ugly head. He’d come this close—this fucking close—to tasting more than just her lips.
He’d wanted to sink his teeth as deep as his cock and feel her warmth in his mouth, sliding down his throat, coursing through his body.
He’d wanted to feel her.
Even if that meant violating the promise he’d made to himself so long ago—that he would keep his distance and his perspective when it came to women.
Son-of-a-bitch.
He sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. Her brow furrowed as if she sensed his sudden movement. He touched her forehead and stroked away the worry lines.
Sleep. He sent the silent thought and her expression eased.
He reached for the sheet that bunched at the bottom of the bed. He would cover her up and get his ass out of here.
Now.
That’s what his head said, but his hands seemed to have a mind of their own. His fingers caught the sheet as his gaze snagged on the tiny scar just above her left breast, and damned if he didn’t feel the urge to trace the small pattern with his tongue. He found himself wondering where she’d gotten it and what other secrets lurked on her silky smooth body. He wanted to look at her, to explore her with his eyes and commit every nuance to memory.
His attention swept down, starting at her brightly painted pink toes and working his way up, over her delicate ankles, her shapely calves, her knees, her hips. The single strip of pubic hair leading to the slit that separated her lush pink lips.
He stalled for a long moment, wishing with all his might that he’d had the chance to taste her. But she’d been too skittish and he’d been too intent on holding back.
Of all the crazy ass things.
With any other woman, he would have leaned down and taken a nice, long, slow lick. But she was different.
And damned if he didn’t like that fact.
As much as he’d wanted to steer the ship, he’d liked watching her take control. In fact, he wouldn’t mind seeing it again.
Before he could think too much on the subject, he forced his attention up and over her soft, smooth stomach to her rose-tipped breasts. He traced the indentation of her clavicle, the smooth column of her throat.
Her pale brown hair fanned out across the pillow. Her nostrils flared. A soft breath slid past her slightly parted pink lips.
Pull the sheet up and be done with it, he told himself. Before you find yourself in a world of trouble.
But then his attention snagged on the tiny scar again and he knew it had something to do with her ex.
A wave of anger burned through him as he thought of someone harming her. It was all he could do not to haul her close, to wrap her in his arms and never let go.
“I should probably get going.” Her soft voice pushed past the thunder of his heart and he realized she hadn’t been sleeping as soundly as he’d thought. His gaze collided with hers. Rich caramel-colored eyes fringed in long eyelashes stared up at him expectantly.
More.
The truth echoed through his head and he stiffened. He didn’t need this right now. He had a town full of guests and a head full of worry, thanks to the dream he’d had earlier that day.
“Me, too. I need to make my rounds,” he announced, his lips tight. The thought struck and he glanced at the old-fashioned clock sitting on the bureau. He should have checked in fifteen minutes ago. It was time to close down the town and make sure all the guests were squared away.
That, and he couldn’t shake the disquiet that dogged him, reminding him about the nightmare, about the fact that someone might be out there.
Even if none of the others seemed to be sensing anything.
He felt it deep in his gut. Or rather, he had.
Right now, the only thing he felt was hunger.
Raw. Desperate. Demanding.
“I’m still on duty.” He said the words more for himself than her.
She nodded, though disappointment lit her eyes. “Sure. I’ve got an early day tomorrow, too . . .” Her words trailed off as she struggled to a sitting position.
Her hair fell down around her shoulders, brushing the tips of her breasts and making his hands itch to reach out and push aside the soft silk. A gleam lit her eyes, a deep-seated longing that she was doing her best to deny because she knew he was right.
They should call it quits.
At the same time, it was only a quarter past midnight and she wasn’t in any hurry to climb into an empty bed with nothing but her vibrator for company.
Oddly enough, the notion stirred a burst of jealousy in him and, suddenly, the last thing on his mind was the clock ticking away on the nightstand or the nightmare still niggling at him. Besides, if someone was headed for Tombstone—Ike or someone else—Boone would need to be at full strength. That meant soaking up another sweet, luscious orgasm.
Or two.
“Clay can cover for me,” he growled, dropping his jeans to the floor.
She smiled and reached for his throbbing erection. And then everything else faded away except his need to be inside of her again.
REGRET SLID OVER Riley like a noose and pulled tight as she closed the door behind her and walked to the staircase at the far end of the hallway. She descended to the second floor where her own room was located, oddly enough directly beneath his.
The thought made her nipples tingle and she fought against the sensation.
It was just past three in the morning. Time to get back to work, forget her stupid fantasies, and get on with her life.
She blinked against the sudden tears that burned the backs of her eyes as she climbed into bed and turned down the bedside oil lamp.
But fifteen minutes later, she was no closer to heeding her own advice. She couldn’t catch a breath that didn’t smell like him, or hear a noise that didn’t remind her that he was close by. She found herself staring at the ceiling, wondering if he was still asleep or if he’d opened his eyes to find her gone.
If he even cared.
Not that she wanted him to. They were both adults and what they’d shared wasn’t meant to go beyond a one-night stand.
Still, it would have been nice to know he’d at least noticed that she was gone. That maybe he missed the warmth of her body next to him. Just a little.
Sheesh, she was losing it.
She finally gave up any notion of sleep and pulled on shorts, a T-shirt and flip-flops. It was just shy of four a.m. too early for breakfast, and too late for a midnight snack.
But she needed something to ease the strange emptiness yawning inside of her.
Tiptoeing through the lobby, she found her way to the dining room and the adjoining kitchen. A few moments later, she stood in the back room behind the kitchen. While the hotel was a throwback to earlier times, it was evident the back prep area had been added recently to accommodate the new business.
She didn’t want to see anyone get into trouble because she couldn’t control her addiction.
Riley fished for her quarters before she realized that the machine didn’t actually take money. It had been programmed to respond to selections only so that employees didn’t have to spend their own change on snacks.
A strange sense of admiration crept through her before she reminded herself that Boone was no more the real sheriff of Tombstone than the man in the moon. Nor was he responsible for the town. He was an actor like everyone else here. A paid employee putting on a show.
Even if he did seem like more.
Much, much more.
She had the fleeting memory of him as he’d been just a few hours ago, lost in the throes of a gripping orgasm, his head thrown back, his eyes closed, his lips pulled back. His fangs bared. A ripple of anxiety went through her.
Ridiculous. She hadn’t seen any such thing. It had just been a trick of the light. A play of her imagination. A hallucination caused by the overwhelming giddiness she’d felt at finally breaking her dry spell.
She punched in her selection and the candy fell with a loud thunk. A heartbeat later, she ripped open the package, leaned against the machine and popped a few M&M’S into her mouth.
The chocolate melted on her tongue, and she closed her eyes to savor the sugary goodness. She ate a few more before stuffing the bag into her pocket. She was just about to retrieve another bag for later when she heard the muted voices coming from outside.
Creeping toward the window, she looked out in time to see two figures. They stood in the shadow of a nearby building, their shapes intertwined. Close.
Romantically so.
That was her first thought. The one that sent her backing away so as to give them their privacy.
She turned and slipped back through the kitchen, the dining room, and into the lobby of the hotel. Velvet drapes fringed with gold tassels outlined the windows. A rich wooden checkout stand sat against the far wall. A lamp perched on top of the stand, its flame burning low, pushing back the shadows just enough to illuminate the deep mahogany staircase that led to the upper floors.
She meant to go back to her room. She really did. But the thought of being cooped up in her small room with nothing but her memories and the lingering awareness in her body—her taut nipples, her tender thighs, her racing heart—was too much to contemplate.
Instead, she headed out onto the planked sidewalk that ran in front of the hotel. The excitement in the square had faded and the band had long since packed up. The area was quiet and dark, the lanterns that had been strung up across the space already burned out.
She stepped out onto the street and walked a few feet, desperate to drag some much-needed air into her lungs. She needed to breathe. To think.
She wasn’t going back to Boone’s room. No matter how much she wanted to.
They’d had sex and now it was over.
Mission accomplished.
Fantasy fulfilled.
She reached the edge of the building and her gaze shifted to the right, to the two figures that she’d glimpsed only moments ago. She saw the outline of a man’s cowboy hat, the full skirt of a woman’s dress, and longing rolled through her.
And then she heard the gasp and that yearning turned to full-fledged shock.
“Don’t hurt me,” an oddly familiar voice called out. “I’ll do what you want. I will.”
Everything happened quickly after that. They struggled, pushing a few feet into the alley, straight into the spill of moonlight overhead. The man reached out for her. The woman tried to fend him off, shoving enough so that Riley could get a glimpse of her face.
It was Kit from the hotel. And where she’d seemed so happy and accommodating earlier that day, she was one hundred percent terrified now.
In an instant, Riley felt her own memories pulling her back, to the time when Phil had backed her up against the kitchen counter, his face nose-to-nose with hers, his arms like two solid bands of steel, his fingers the chains that had bound her to him.
“What are you going to do about it? You’re slow. Weak. You can’t walk out on me, Riley. I won’t let you. I own you. You’re mine.” To prove his point, he grabbed a steak knife from the nearby butcher block and touched the tip to her chest. The blade pushed deep, marking her pale flesh and drawing a hot trickle of blood. “You’ll always be mine.”
She stood there for several fast, furious heartbeats as the images overwhelmed her and the tiny puckered scar above her left breast throbbed. Then, her survival instincts kicked in, along with a deep-seated rage that drove her forward when anyone else would have turned the other way.
Plunging into the alley, she barreled toward the man’s dark form. “Stop!”
“What the hell . . . ?” A bellow punctuated the question as she hit him full force from behind.
He stumbled as Riley latched onto his back like a monkey. Her arms locked around his neck. Her legs flailed around his waist.
“Run!” she screamed at Kit who simply stood there for a shocked moment before reality seemed to strike.
The woman moved, but the shadow was faster. He grabbed Kit with one hand while his other grasped at Riley’s hands looped around his neck. An iron-like fist closed over her grip and squeezed. Pain bolted through her and short-circuited her brain. Her head snapped back. Her arms and legs went limp. She flew through the air in that next instant and crashed against a nearby wall.
Lightning cracked open her senses and agony gripped her body. The air rushed from her lungs, and she gasped, desperate to hold onto as much oxygen as possible. She needed to breathe. To scream.
As if her thoughts had conjured the sound, a heart-wrenching wail pierced the agony that held her tight.
For an instant, she thought it was her own voice that vibrated in her ears. But then she blinked away the fuzz in time to see the man loom over Kit. A knife glinted in the darkness, flashing like silver fire before it plunged into her shoulder. He shoved her bleeding body against the building.
“Please don’t do this.” Kit held up her hands as he advanced to finish what he’d started. “Please.”
“You’re tainted now, and this is the only way to free you,” the man said in a deep, deadly drawl. “She did this to you, not me. She’s the reason you’re here, and she’ll die, too, in due time.” The knife caught the flicker of moonlight again before Kit let out another scream that ripped across Riley’s nerves. “They all will.”
No, no, no, no, no.
The rejection pounded through Riley as the blood stained the woman’s white corset a dark red. Her head fell back, her eyes wide. Kit tried to open her mouth, but no words came out. Just more blood. Gurgling past her lips, spurting down her chin.
Riley grasped at the small hope that this was just another one of the shows that Tombstone was fast becoming famous for. Like the gunfights featured in their quick draw contest or a bar fight, like the one she’d witnessed earlier that evening. But then the man moved.
One moment he was standing over the woman and the next, he was kneeling in front of her, lapping at the crimson heat pulsing from her wounds like a kid licking an ice cream cone.
“No,” Riley managed to voice her opposition out loud this time, the word little more than a croak, barely audible over the pounding of her own heart.
He heard a
nyway.
The man’s head lifted and his furious red gaze collided with Riley’s. His lips pulled back. Blood dribbled from a pair of lethal-looking fangs. A growl rumbled past his lips and sizzled through the air between them.
Fangs.
Honest-to-goodness fangs.
Riley blinked, but he was still there.
They were still there. Razor sharp and dripping with crimson life.
Denial rushed through her, followed by a quick burst of raw terror. While there had to be an explanation—no way could this guy have actual fangs—he was still dangerous.
Murderous.
He took a step toward her and she fought the instinct to shrink against the building, to curl up into a ball and prepare herself for the inevitable.
She hadn’t done that with Phil—not in the end—and she sure as hell wasn’t going to do it now.
She’d fought hard and smart, and she’d survived.
Then and now.
Grasping at the notion, she scrambled to her feet and bolted for the front of the building. She’d only made it two steps before a large hand caught her by the hair.
A force yanked her backward. Her legs went out from under her and she landed flat on her back in the dust. Her head slapped the ground. Pain exploded in her skull and blurred her vision. Not enough, however, to obliterate the man’s oddly calm expression as he loomed over her.
“Don’t worry.” A drop of red heat fell from his open mouth and hit her cheek.
She felt the slow, sweltering glide down her skin and fear welled inside of her despite his words.
“I won’t hurt you. I’m here to save you, too, not just the others.”
A nightmare.
The thought struck and she grasped at it, holding tight. None of this was real. Not the choked gurgles of Kit who sprawled nearby, fading into the oblivion of death. Or the eerily self-righteous vampire looming over her.
None of it.
The Quick and the Undead: Volume 1 (Tombstone, Texas) Page 9