Red Blooded

by Deidre Knight

  She opened her mouth to greet Mason—the jerk knew he was crashing, she didn’t have to call him out on it. But before she could ask him what in blazes he was doing at her party, her cat Venus screeched and wailed past her ankles, making a horrible, warbling sound of distress that bordered on the demonic.

  The crowd parted like the Red Sea, her blurring ball of terror loose like a firecracker. A guy behind her tried to sidestep the caterwauling little kitty and managed to bump right into her. Which in turn sent her daiquiri careening out of her overhead grasp and all over the front of her brand new Ann Taylor end-of-season sundress.

  “What the hell?” she said, right as one of her other cats, DeMilo, chased past her ankle, then leaped onto the railing, knocking some hapless guest’s beer bottle down into the dunes.

  And then she saw the full-on, undeniable source of the cat terror. The guy. Mr. GQ on a Stick had caused it all. The drop-dead gorgeous, beautiful man had come here—to her beach house, uninvited, no less—and brought a dog. A tongue-lolling, happy-looking black Labrador. The thoughtless jerk. Typical. Totally typical of the company the Angel boys kept.

  “Excuse me, sir,” she said, poking a finger into the stranger’s very muscular chest. “But what in sweet Jesus’ name do you think you’re doing? Bringing that animal to my….”

  She didn’t finish, didn’t even try and salvage what she’d been about to say. Because everything became crystal clear in another speed-of-light second. His scent, the same as the one from her dream. The blacked-out sightlessness from it, too. The sign on the Labrador’s harness that read, “Guide Dogs for the Blind.” And Mason Angel, his green eyes wide and telegraphing as he gestured toward his friend significantly.

  Every last bit of the series of events seemed to train wreck together, box cars slamming into box cars, words being spoken all at once, apologies muttered, the man dropping to his knees and tugging his dog much closer.

  “I’m so sorry,” he muttered, huddling the dog against his knees as he stroked its head. “I didn’t realize you had cats.”

  She knelt beside him, and covered his hand with her own, resting it against the dog’s side. “No, no, I didn’t realize…not that you––”

  “Really, it’s okay,” he reassured her, but he wasn’t smiling any more, not even that charming hint of a grin. His tanned and freckled cheeks had stained red, his embarrassment obvious.

  She squeezed his hand slightly. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I just didn’t know…”

  For one long moment, their hands lingered together, her softer skin against his rough palms. She could feel showers of electric warmth shoot up into her forearm, reaching all the way into her chest like wildfire. That burning sensation unleashed her mating urges before she could stop them, rendering her breathless, trembling. And still they held hands, neither moving, neither saying anything. Was he feeling the same cascade of sensation and need as she was? Was that why he didn’t say a word? It couldn’t be possible that he shared in the same crazy, intense sensations that were swamping her. He wasn’t a vampire. He was a Normal, and only her kind experienced such volatile mating instincts. Or dreamed about the man they were meant to…mate with. Oh, holy crud.

  “Where are they now?” he asked, and the question brought her back to the moment. Slowly she released his hand. As soon as she did, he sidled his dog closer against his knees, as if the absence of her own touch had somehow made him feel vulnerable. It had to be unsettling for him, to be in a party full of strangers, totally blind, your guide dog distracted by the presence of two unruly cats ping-ponging around the deck. “Are they gone?” he added, petting the dog’s side with a soothing gesture.

  “My cats? Yeah, they went parasailing into the dunes. They won’t bother your dog.”

  He looked up and around as if he might be able to see. Perhaps he was partially sighted? Or maybe newly blinded? She’d lay money that he was one of Mason’s fellow Marines, injured in combat—probably recently. Given the short cut of his hair, and his physical strength and overall bearing, he smacked of the military. Which did absolutely nothing to dampen her interest and attraction to him. In their vampire society, warriors made up their highest caste, always revered and honored. Those who had been injured in combat of any kind were at the pinnacle of the social strata.

  He was even dressed in a vaguely military manner, wearing a tight-fitting black T-shirt and khaki cargo shorts, ones that revealed his powerful, muscular legs, and as he leaned back on his heels another wave of mating heat rolled through her veins. She couldn’t help herself: she instantly imagined parting those legs, feeling all that silky hair and strength poised between her own thighs. Her face burned hot and she was glad he couldn’t see the shame in her expression. But that didn’t mean Mason couldn’t, and she let her hair fall across her cheek, obscuring her flushed features from his scoundrel’s inspection.

  That and she gave a quick glance to locate Toby, and was thankful to see that he and his pack of rowdy pals were heading down to the beach. If he’d noticed that she was practically panting after a gorgeous Normal, he’d have hauled her as far away from Mr. GQ as quickly as possible. So as she watched him shoulder an ice chest down the wooden steps to the beach, she felt…free. Independent.

  With Toby out of the way, she took a quick moment to study the stranger’s beautiful face. The light dusting of beard growth on his jaw, the soft fullness of his lips, the faint scar between his eyebrows…all of it gave him a slightly roguish appearance, which only made him even more appealing. “Perfect,” she sighed before she could stop herself.

  “Excuse me?” He inclined his head closer toward her, trying to hear over the music.

  She blushed, heat fingering all the way into her chest. “Uh, I’m really sorry about all…this,” she said, far too breathlessly for a chance encounter on a crowded deck. Her words came out on a soft exhalation, and she leaned into him slightly, unable to restrain her urge to be all up against him. Who was she kidding? She was the cat here, and he was all lap. She wanted to curl up next to him and rub up against him, sniff his neck and then purr against his chest—right before she absolutely begged him to haul her off to the bedroom for a proper lovemaking.

  “This was my bad, bringing Lulu without checking,” he said quietly. “I usually remember to do that when there’s a party.”

  “Oh that’s just plain wrong. Don’t you dare be sorry,” she said, starting to laugh, and touched his hand again.

  His dark brown eyebrows rode high above his sunglasses, and he started to smile again, finally. “I wasn’t. Not really,” he admitted, and she caught a much stronger whiff of his scent. The force of it made her eyes water; she had to splay a hand against the wooden deck because the aroma wafting off his Normal’s skin swamped her, totally. The blackness, the utter sightlessness of her dreams made sense now—she’d been seeing the world as he did.

  She needed to know his name. More than she needed a next breath, or to spar with Mason Angel, or to look at another guest at that party, she had to know this man. From the outside to the very core of him, she wanted to know and touch and hold him. All of him. The dreams had done their job, quite effectively, as a matter of fact. But why had her mating dreams been of a human?

  He shifted his hand beneath hers and only then did she realize that she’d never stopped touching him. Instead of pulling away, she actually took hold of his hand again, squeezing their fingers together. “I’m Katherine,” she said softly, wishing he weren’t wearing the sunglasses as she searched his face. “Katherine Rabineau.”

  He smiled in earnest for the first time, his deep dimples coming into full view. “Kate for short, I bet, huh?”

  “Mason told you.” She scowled up at her lifelong nemesis, who assumed a bored, nonchalant expression, taking a long swig of beer.

  “He said you’re a stunner. A really beautiful woman.”

  “He did?” she whispered.

  He patted his dog, drawling, “There are some ways in which Lulu here falls
short, you know. Situations where you need the eyes of your buddy to relay info on the local hot spots.” He lingered on those last two words, his full, luscious lips seeming to taste the insinuation. “But I like the idea of you giving me that kind of tour, not him.”

  “Your scent…” She leaned a little closer to him, trying to drink his masculine, human aroma deep inside of her. “I know…” You. I know you.

  Slowly he lifted his sunglasses, sliding them atop his head. “This is going to sound really strange,” he said after a moment, his focus on her, even as his eyes stared blankly ahead. But that fact, it didn’t matter. The life and fire she saw in their vivid blue depths made her tremble. “I mean…don’t take this the wrong way,” he amended, a soft twang in his voice, “but, I really—and I mean really, Kate—like how you smell.”

  “You like my scent,” she repeated in disbelief and he nodded vigorously.

  “Oh, hell yeah. Kate…God, woman. You’re beautiful. Gorgeous. And I don’t need my goddamned eyes to realize that.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  It was the scent of heaven itself, a strange mix of arousing and intoxicating. Dillon felt dizzy suddenly, and maybe it was just one of his occasional problems because of the brain injury, but he didn’t think so. It was much more like he…fuck, swooned. This hot chick had him swooning, for God’s sake.

  He blinked, and for a moment there was only the thump-thump of the music, the bass strong enough that he could feel a slight vibration beating through the deck. Chaka Khan’s “I Feel for You” wasn’t exactly cooling off his hotwired libido. It was putting ideas in his head.

  “I don’t know your name,” she said, the words somehow managing to be thoroughly suggestive, lingering in the air like a promise. He’d have sworn he felt the heat of her breath brush against his cheek as she leaned closer.

  “Dillon. Dillon Fox.”

  She giggled lightly, a girlish, happy sound that made him smile. “Okay, so that means Fox has a dog that hates cats!” She laughed a little harder, squeezing his hand again. “Sweet!”

  He leaned closer toward her, inhaling once again, and went hard as a stone inside his shorts, surreptitiously trying to adjust himself so that Kate wouldn’t notice. That was the kicker: she might be staring right at his groin for all he knew. He dragged Lulu closer, making her a doggie shield and prayed that his cock would calm the hell down.

  Since when had the scent of any female gotten him lathered up like this? It was spooky, strange. But not unfamiliar, come to think of it. He’d dreamed about this girl’s distinctive aroma, starting months ago. A year ago, maybe, when he was at Bethesda Naval going through rehab. This scent of hers was the first dark dream he’d ever had—one without images or sight. It had scared him at first, made him fear that his sighted dreams would soon be snuffed out. Until it became clear that, although the recurring dream was one of blindness, it was also one of hope. Desire. A future.

  The supposed vampire beside him smelled like that future.

  And that realization sent him tumbling back to reality. She was a vampire. So this smell thing had to be part of the deal, some voodoo type magic she could work, leaving him vulnerable. But Mason hadn’t said she was dangerous, not exactly…had he? This gig was all about ID’ing the suspect, confirming the Angel brothers’ suspicions. If Kate was dangerous, well, Mace would’ve said so.

  Right?

  Dillon was clearly in way over his head and sinking fast, his hard-on pointing the way like the needle on a compass.

  “Mason!” he barked, feeling a little stranded and panicky, which happened in crowds like this sometimes. Especially if it seemed you might be in a party full of freaky-ass bloodsuckers.

  “Mace, where you at, dude?”

  His friend’s firm, strong grip came down on his shoulder. “I’m right here, buddy. Chill. It’s all good.”

  Kate’s hand moved to his upper arm, and she touched him gently. “Let’s go inside. It’s hot out here, and I’ll get you a beer and some chips and stuff.” Then her voice turned sharper. “While Mason Angel occupies himself out here.”

  “Aw, come on, Kate. We’re ole friends now.” Mason laughed.

  “I’ll choose not to comment on that claim,” Kate said, tugging on his hand as she stood.

  “I’ve gotta go change out of my sundress which is drenched in booze. Come on, Dillon.”

  Dillon rose cautiously to his feet, gripping Lulu’s harness in his now-sweaty hand. Whatever was going on here, this effect Kate was having on him, it didn’t feel natural—and given that Lulu was distracted and he hadn’t learned the layout of the beach house, it wasn’t exactly easy to adjust to anything else new or unusual to his world.

  “Maybe I should take off for a while,” Mason volunteered in a breezy tone. “Come back later tonight after you and Kate have had your chips and beers, huh?”

  Dillon scowled and mouthed the word “vampire” in Mason’s direction, making sure he was turned away from Kate. They’d concocted a plan for Mace to leave Dillon alone with Kate before Dillon had realized her freaky effect on him. She was turning out to be pure kryptonite, so it probably wasn’t genius thinking to leave him alone with a candy jar full of the stuff.

  “Uh, Mace, you need to stick around, don’t you think?” Dillon urged.

  “No,” Kate disagreed adamantly, “I don’t think. Take off, Mason Angel. Be gone!”

  Dillon shook his head, a little light-headed. “Mace, bro, I don’t know my way around here….”

  Yeah, it was crappy to play the blind card, but he did not need to be left alone with Kate Rabineau. Not yet, at least.

  “I’ll take excellent care of you,” Kate said, touching his arm.

  “Let me talk to Dill for a sec, Katie? Okay?” Mason said.

  “I’m not Katie, at least not to you, but sure.”

  Mason leaned close, whispering in Dillon’s ear, “You guys are already hooking up, so keep it going. No way is she mated, not with the way she’s responding to you. But we need to learn everything you can about the mating transition. When will she begin to feed? Will it be from humans? That’s what I need to know. What you gotta find out, man.”

  And if Kate did drink from humans? That would mean that gorgeous, sweet-smelling female was going to be toast. An added complication, the realization that his mission might end her life.

  “It’s an easy first mission, really. Not too dangerous. Just important from an intel standpoint,” Mason explained and then took a step back, raising his voice so Kate could hear.

  “Can’t go too fast. You’re just getting started,” Mason said with enough cryptic meaning that Kate would think Mace was referring to her, not the Shades.

  Discreetly, Dillon gave his old friend the one-fingered salute. “Buddy fucker,” Dillon grumbled under his breath.

  “Nah, just your commanding officer,” Mace announced proudly. “Always and forever.”

  “Somehow, though,” Dillon answered back, trying to hold his breath so as to not catch any more of Kate’s luscious aroma, “I think these are very different than the good ole days.”

  “Welcome to my world.” Mason laughed languidly. “Call me later and I’ll come get you…if there is a later, that is, as opposed to a tomorrow morning.”

  Dillon clutched Lulu’s harness, noting the thick pile carpet that sponged beneath his flip flops. Since losing his sight, he’d been surprised by how often he defined his environment by the ground or floor beneath his feet. Kate’s beach house had some sort of tiled floor all the way to the back hallway, and they’d obviously passed through the kitchen, the smell of spicy sauces and hot dogs and citronella all wafting in the air.

  “Here,” Kate told him now, the sounds of the party receding down the hall behind them.

  “My room.” She started to take hold of his hand and then stopped herself. “Well that was just plain stupid. You’re supposed to hold on to me. I know that’s how it works. Duh!”

  He smiled, laughing low. “You’re right. I wo
uld like to hold on to you.” And not to help me get around, either. Maybe she was a vampire, but for just that moment, he wanted to believe that she wasn’t evil or frightening. She didn’t make him feel threatened at all, apart from the strange sensation that he’d always known her, and the reality that he’d started dreaming about her a year ago. No, he definitely didn’t want to believe she was dangerous. She was, however, extremely feminine and insanely sexy. So being alone with her was already about far more than his stealth mission for the Shades. It was about the woman herself.

  Besides, if he seduced her, that would only increase the likelihood of his gaining the key intel. So maybe it was a good plan to give in to the attraction instead of fighting it. Besides, he’d made a lifestyle out of flirting with danger, why not take that up a notch and into the bedroom?

  “Do you need to take my arm?” she prompted him, ignoring his flirtatious comment.

  He smiled in her direction. “Lulu will lead the way…for now. Later, well, we’ll discuss my needs. And yours.”

  She stopped abruptly, spinning right into his chest. “Good golly, Molly, you’re just absurdly confident.”

  He caught his hand about her waist, pinning her against him. “What? You think a blind guy can’t find his way into a woman’s bedroom?”

  “Uh, no. You’re already in my bedroom.”

  “My point exactly.”

  There was an awkward moment of silence, then she said, “I have a little settee. Can I show it to you?”

  “Please,” he said, still holding her close. “But not until you tell me why you smell like this. Is it some expensive perfume? Lotion? What the hell is it? ’Cause it’s doing something crazy to me.”