Biting Me Softly: Biting Love, Book 3

by Mary Hughes

  “No, Liese. He had to serve his master for a score of years, to pay him back for the gift of second life.”

  I hit mute again and raised a questioning eyebrow at Logan.

  “A baby vamp needs tending,” he confirmed. “Not long, but Ruthven tends to play to the stereotypes.”

  “What about you? You’ve served your master for hundreds of years.”

  “I serve Elias out of respect, and because he’s a brilliant teacher and warrior. But not for survival, not anymore.”

  “And Razor? Does he need to serve Ruthven?”

  “A fledgling’s vulnerable the first weeks. In return for helping the baby vamp, most masters demand a couple years’ service. But Ruthven’s not most masters. Razor might be telling the truth.”

  “Or he might be lying to ingratiate himself with Mom. To take advantage of her.”

  “Liese, I hate to point this out because I don’t want to get slapped, but Hattie isn’t a tasty young morsel. And Razor has a good deal of sexual allure. He doesn’t need to lie to attract human women.”

  “Sexual allure?” I hit unmute, still talking to Logan. “That fumblebutt sleazebag? The guy who’s pickup line is ‘I got lots of honeys’? Sorry, but I don’t find Razor the least bit alluring or attractive.” And, remembering, I sputtered into the phone, “Mother, Race came on to me! How can you marry someone who propositioned your own daughter?”

  “He told me about that, sweetie. He feels bad about it now. But you apparently reminded him of me.”

  “What a glib bastard.”

  “Which is it, Liese? A fumblebutt sleazebag or a glib bastard?”

  Apparently Logan wasn’t the only one with good hearing. “Neither. Both. I don’t know! He’s bad, Mother. Abandonment aside, he was a bad boy then, and he’s a bad vampire now. In fact, his real name is Razor and he leads a gang. And if that’s not enough, he works for the guys trying to take over the Blood Center.”

  “Yes, I know. He told me all about getting friendly with you so he could slip his root killer—” my mother said it but I heard Race’s voice and automatically supplied root kit “—into your computer. But as he got to know you, he felt bad and couldn’t do it. He’s going to quit, honey. He’s reformed.”

  “Mother, that’s the oldest line in the world!”

  “But true. I’m forty-seven, Liese. Why would he want to marry me, if he didn’t love me?”

  “I don’t know. Vampires lie all the time. It’s second nature. They lie, they keep secrets. You can’t trust them.”

  “I know he’s lied to me, honey. I know he’s kept secrets. But underneath it all, he cares about me. And that’s all that matters.”

  “Cares about you? When he left you pregnant and alone?”

  “He sent me money. After my family disowned me.”

  That startled me enough to shut me up.

  “Trust is a bridge, Liese. And the meeting point is halfway. Sweetheart, I know you’re only getting on my case because you’re worried. You care about me too, don’t you? I’m so lucky to have you as a daughter. I love you, sweetie.”

  And, having made her points of Mom-wisdom, she hung up.

  “Trust is about taking a chance,” I said to the empty line. “But the other person has to earn the chance too.”

  “That’s interesting.” Logan gently extracted the phone from my fingers, clicked it shut. “Razor’s the last person I would have picked to care about anyone but himself.” He set the phone on the nightstand and came to sit by me on the bed.

  “I’m not convinced he does.”

  “Nor I, but only time will tell.” He gathered me close. “He might be good for her, you know. If he really does love her. He might make her happy.”

  “I make her happy.” I knew that was small, coming from some childish place deep inside.

  “You do,” Logan agreed, kissing my hair. “You’re her world. And she’s yours. Your love for each other is obvious in everything you do.” He caressed a hand gently down my breast. “But there are different forms of love, princess.”

  And, as I lay back for Logan’s expert manipulations, I realized there were apparently different forms of trust. Because while I didn’t trust either Razor or Logan not to lie or keep secrets, I trusted Logan with my body.

  Too bad my body included my heart.

  We had so much fun with the champagne and the whirlpool that we slept right up until Bo’s lieutenant Thorvald called, just after dawn. Logan put him on speakerphone.

  “Calling to confirm Ruthven’s ritual burial just outside of Oak Ridge Cemetery.” Thor had a smoky baritone, a fine whiskey sort of voice. “Nice ceremony, full of ripping off medals and badges and shit. After the defrocking, Nosferatu yanked Ruthven out of the cage and chucked him into the grave. I especially liked the part where Nosferatu backhoed it in while Ruthven was still yelling. Sounded like his mouth was filling with mushy cornflakes.”

  “So where are you now?” Logan asked. “Sun’s up, isn’t it?”

  “I’m holing up in a little crypt a stone’s throw from Ruthven’s grave. The Maybach’s shielding is only full on the passenger side so I won’t be able to go home until dusk. Do you want another call then?”

  “Yes. I want to hear how Ruthven’s settling in.”

  With the sun up Logan took the room for another day and announced he was taking me to brunch. We had just started dressing (for the third time, actually) when his cell phone chirped.

  “Text message.” He flipped it open with a negligent hand, glanced at the display.

  A change swept over him. His eyes narrowed, flashed that bright gold. His lips thinned, jutting fang, and his stance widened like a bulldog.

  His fingers tightened so hard the display cracked.

  That seemed to snap him out of it. “Damn. Ruthven’s got me nervous. It’s just Zinnia. She’s thanking me for the…I can’t read it now. I think it said field trip.”

  “What field trip?”

  “I assume from Iowa to Illinois. Although she has Elias to thank for that.” His eyes scanned the display again. “And why call it a field trip? If I’m even remembering the text right. Damn.” He chucked the phone onto the dresser. “Can I borrow your cell? It’s probably nothing, but after yesterday I’m a bit paranoid.”

  “Add Zajicek’s warning and I’d say it’s justified.” I dug out my cell.

  Logan punched in a number so fast I barely saw his thumb move. “It’s Steel. I need a phone number for Zinnia Jones, House Elias—better yet, connect me.” There was a pause during which Logan drummed fingers on the dresser. By the time he spoke again the drumming had taken on a distinct tick-tick sound. “Zinnia, it’s Logan Steel. What’s going on?” As he listened his fangs elongated and his eyes reddened until they were glowing.

  The claws stilled. “He just showed up and said I arranged it? And you didn’t question that?” There was a pause, and then his voice went cold like I’d never heard it before. “Explain.”

  Whatever she was saying, he didn’t like it. His eyes narrowed and his fangs cut into his lower lip until blood ran. He wiped the trickles away with an impatient swipe. “Listen to me, Zinnia. Gather everyone you can find and meet me at the museum entrance.” He clapped the phone shut and threw on the rest of his clothes.

  I had dressed while he was on the phone. “What’s Zinnia gotten into now?”

  “She’s in Chicago. Along with the whole damn Iowa bus.”

  “What? Why?”

  “The bus driver showed up at her motel with some cockeyed story that I’d arranged a field trip to the Museum of Science and Industry, to give them something to do.” Logan jerked on his shirt, claws clicking as he buttoned. “I’ll give that woman something to do. What was she thinking, coming to Chicago now of all times?”

  I started packing. “Logan, calm down. This is probably just a coincidence. Ruthven’s in the ground in Springfield. Even if he planned something, he would want to see it in person.”

  “He’s a coward. Cack
ling by remote’s not out of the question.”

  “If the group came by bus, why can’t they just leave?”

  “Coincidentally, it broke down.” Logan threw things in his overnight bag so hard I heard smacks. “Barely made it into the underground parking before dying. Fucking coincidence. Zinnia thought they might as well see the museum while the bus was repaired. All those humans, scattered about the museum with no way to contact them, not due to meet until four in the fucking afternoon. I swear I’m getting every person in that household their own damned cell phone. I don’t care how much it costs me.”

  The news alarmed me but I also felt a glimmer of hope. Logan was talking about the busload of people as if they were his. Maybe he was finally healing. “Zinnia might be making the bus driver story up so you don’t blame her. Besides, if they’re inside the museum, is it really that dangerous? Humans go to the MSI all the time, and nothing happens—especially during the day.” I took my bag and waited for him by the door.

  “First, this is Zinnia we’re talking about. Second, you’re not going. Third, though rogue vampires usually stay under the radar, I’m not betting my humans on it, not so soon after Ruthven’s been pwned. Fourth, you’re not going. Fifth, half the museum is underground, so vampires are there even at midday. And last, you’re not going.”

  “Sure I’m going. Why wouldn’t I go?”

  “Zajicek’s warning? The butterfly comment? I know German as well as anyone, Liese, and I know Schmetterling doesn’t mean arachnid.”

  “Not to worry. Ruthven’s in Springfield. So unless he can mist a couple hundred miles underground—”

  “You’re conveniently forgetting the bus driver. Who may or may not be the mole. If not, we have two minions to worry about. And a minion, while he may not be a vampire, is still dangerous.”

  “She may not be a vampire, but—”

  “He or she may be a teddy bear, I don’t care. You’re not going.” He glared.

  I glared back. “Because I’m so much safer here alone.”

  “Fuck.” Logan hit the wall with his palm, then spun and grabbed my phone. He flipped it open, then clapped it shut a second later and practically tore his pocket jamming it home. “Merde. No one I could call could get here in less than half an hour. All right, you’re coming. But you’re staying with me, understand?”

  Since I’d gotten what I wanted, I nodded meekly.

  Logan insisted on driving his Porsche. Even with tinted windows and the watery gray March sun he was smoldering by the time we pulled into the shadows of the underground structure. Literally, wisps of smoke erupting from nose, mouth, and ears. He seemed to relish it.

  “This is insane.” It had been his refrain all down Lake Shore Drive. “This is exactly why I don’t want a household. Any move I make might provoke backlash like this. For myself I don’t worry, but you humans are so damned vulnerable.”

  I just nodded. What could I say? He wouldn’t feel better until Zinnia and company were safe. But when we got home I was so getting a bazooka from Elena.

  “Fucking insane,” he repeated. “Zinnia couldn’t have picked a worse time to fall for some uniform’s line. Ruthven’s always hated the Iowa Alliance but now that he’s specifically got me in his sights, there’s no telling what he’ll do.”

  “At least he’s nowhere near today. And Zinnia didn’t do it on purpose. She didn’t know you and Ruthven have a history.”

  “Unless she’s the mole. In cahoots with the bus driver.”

  “Come on, Logan. Ms. Vampire Rights, the mole? There’s the bus.”

  The Iowa bus was on Level C of the Museum of Science and Industry’s underground parking. It was locked and empty.

  Zinnia met us just inside the parking entrance, bopping over with an energy that seemed slightly manic. “Master Logan, I’m so relieved you’re here. I’ve got good news and bad news. The good news is I managed to get some of the people here with an all-call. The museum paging system is really marvelous—”

  “Where are your children?” Logan’s jaw was clenched hard.

  Her bop drooped. “Um, that’s the bad news. Bud had some research he wanted to do and you know Lilly, always wanting to tag along, and you know Bud, such a wonderful big brother, and you know how children—”

  “Where. Are. They.” Logan’s growl was ominous.

  Immediate intervention was in order. I snagged Zinnia’s arm and concentrated on all the centering techniques Mr. Miyagi ever taught me. “Breathe, Zinnia.”

  She took a couple good deep gulps. Finally she admitted, “Bud’s not answering the page, Master Logan.”

  “I’ll find him.” He grabbed my elbow, steered me toward the entrance.

  “Master Logan, wait.” Zinnia ran after us. “Some kids tagged along with Bud.”

  Logan paused for a deep breath of his own. “Besides Lilly? Exactly who is still missing, Zinnia?”

  Zinnia dug into her purse, pulled out the spreadsheet. “Jane Austen Smith, age eight. Four-year-old Angela, who is actually Mr. Dodds’s grandniece, a cute little girl although not as cute as Lilly…” She caught Logan’s pointed glare and her eyes fluttered back to her list. “Yes. Well, another eight-year-old, Billy Wilder, whose father Thugs’ll make a wonderful fixit man—er, yes. And Tad, a seven-year-old redhead. Um, he had a little too much for brunch. Oh, and Frieda, Dodds’s other grandniece. But she’s Bud’s age, so I’m not as worried.” She stuffed the list back into her purse. “Master Logan, do you really think they’re in danger?”

  Logan proved then that he was a great CEO and would make an awesome householder. He took her by the shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. “Don’t worry, Zinnia. I will find them, and I will bring them back safe.”

  Her body sagged with relief. “Thank you.”

  “While I’m gone make sure everyone stays together. I have backup coming, a couple Steel Security people. They’ll check over the bus, make sure it’s safe to travel.”

  “Yes, Master Logan.”

  The museum is huge, four levels and almost a tenth of a mile from end to end. Logan restricted himself to my slower human pace, though we both chafed. For ten fretful minutes we scoured the entry and lower levels.

  Thank goodness for his super vamp hearing. The instant we hit the main level, “Itsy Bitsy Spider” floated from the balcony. It was the first time I was grateful for arachnids.

  Lilly was in the balcony restroom, Jane Austen Smith standing outside her stall lecturing. “It’s a bathroom, not a potty. And you don’t ‘go potty’, you urinate. And—Mr. Steel, you oughtn’t be in the girls’ room.”

  “It’s an emergency,” Logan said as Lilly emerged from her stall. “We need to get back to the bus. Lilly, your mother is looking for you. Let’s go.”

  “I hafta wash my hands first.” She trotted over to the sink but couldn’t quite reach it. She tried several times, then looked expectantly at Logan.

  With a deep sigh, Logan lifted her. He might have resented the time it took, but the picture of ultra male strength supporting the tiny girl shouted perfect mate to me. Stupid hormones.

  We emerged from the bathroom and heard a relieved cry. Bud ran up. “Thank goodness, Mr. Steel! You’ve found Lilly and Jane, I was looking everywhere for them.”

  From the sweat on his face, poor Bud must have been running around half an hour or more searching for his sister. In some ways he reminded me of Nana in Peter Pan.

  “I’m really sorry, Mr. Steel. I turned my back on the kids for just an instant to take notes.” He grabbed Lilly’s hand. “You wouldn’t believe how fast they can disappear.”

  “The other children,” Logan said. “Billy Wilder and the rest. Where are they?”

  “Billy gabbed the whole way here about the Coal Mine so he’s probably gone there. I don’t know about Tad. But Angela’s with her sister Frieda, so we just have to find Billy and Tad.”

  Logan gave a brisk shake of the head. “We need to find them all and get back to the group without delay.
”

  Bud’s blue eyes narrowed, looking so much like Logan I almost expected to see them flare red. “Something’s wrong?”

  Logan glanced significantly at Lilly and Jane. “Of course not.” He contradicted the words by nodding.

  Bud’s jaw firmed and he nodded in return. “The Coal Mine’s entrance is down one level, on the main floor. Tad’s probably with Billy. Frieda said something about taking Angela to the Idea Factory, which is on the lower level.”

  “Great. Let’s go.”

  “Mr. Steel!” A man rushed toward us, one of those young-old types with smooth skin but thin wispy hair, athletic but with a bit of a potbelly. His clothes were contradictory too, crisp pleats on his dress slacks but his shirt sleeves unevenly rolled, damp under his arms and his tie askew. “Oh, Mr. Steel, thank goodness you’re here. I need to talk to you about the recent emergency modifications done on our cogen. I know the general contractor said it was to bring things up to code and we didn’t need an inspection but the efficiency has fallen—”

  “Smilvane.” Logan’s sharp tone cut him off. “I’d like to help but that’s really not my area. And I’m in a bit of a hurry.” He started down the yellow stairs, Bud and the girls following closely.

  “But Mr. Steel, it’ll only take a minute of your time. We’ll nip across to the green stairs, just a quick look.”

  Logan stopped. The kids and I piled up behind him. I freaked that we’d all take a tumble but he held firm. Good thing or the yellow stairs would have been just a bit more yellow. “Not now, Smilvane.” Logan’s voice echoed, not all because of the stairwell.

  Smilvane’s pupils dilated until his eyes were nearly black. “Yes, Mr. Steel.” He let us go.

  “Who was that?” I asked. “And what’s the cogen?”

  “One of the facility admins. We met when I did a computers and security seminar here last year. The cogen is their cogeneration installation, but I don’t know about any recent modifications.” He jerked a sharp shrug. “Some people think if it has blinking lights and plugs into the wall, it’s my problem. Well, I have bigger problems. Let’s try the Coal Mine first.”