“That feels good.”
He smiled at the slight slurring of her speech, but she was awake. He looked down at her cradled against his chest and found her watching him. She was confused, but glad he held her. And why did he know what she was thinking? Or was he hoping it was what she was feeling? Or was he just so damn tired that he was punchy and imagining things?
“You can put me down,” she said. “I can stand.”
He let her slide down his body, but didn’t let her go. When her feet hit the floor, she leaned against him and sighed. It felt so good standing with her, so right. The sense of contentment was a balm to his soul. Aislinn was the one who brought this to him, and because of that, he needed to care for her. He grabbed up the shampoo and squirted some in his hands. Slowly, he began to rub it into the heavy length of her hair. She sighed again and tightened her arms around his waist.
When he finished washing and conditioning her hair, he grabbed up a washcloth and soaped it up. He eased it over her body, making sure every inch was clean. Charon was amazed at just how perfect she was. Though her skin was pale and soft, her muscles were strong and made for fighting. He’d made sure of that. Now, the idea terrified him. He’d promised her she could fight, but he didn’t want her to. How could he? She was his, and he wanted her safe.
Once he finished bathing Aislinn, he did a quick job on himself and got them out of the shower. He quickly dried off, but took time with her. He brushed her hair and braided it so it would stay out of her way while she slept. Grabbing up a bottle of lotion, he carried her back into the bedroom. He laid her on the bed and, with careful hands, began to massage her. She sighed as he worked down her back. He thought if he could do this forever, he could be happy.
Soon, though, sleep pulled at him. Charon climbed into bed and curled around the woman who suddenly meant more to him than his life.
* * * *
Kenshin sat in his office and contemplated the glass of whiskey in his hand. He wasn’t normally a drinking man, but after the day they had, he needed it. Hell, if things didn’t improve, he might take it up full-time. Clusterfuck, he decided, was a gentle way to describe the events of the last few days.
He rubbed his face and wondered what would happen if Charon and Aislinn didn’t resolve things. Would the Hunters have to kill Charon? Dammit, Kenshin didn’t want to go there. The PIA only had five active Hunters and couldn’t afford to lose one. More personally, he couldn’t imagine not having Charon around. Of all the Hunters, he was the easiest to get along with, the easiest to talk to and joke with. Hell, Kenshin had shared meals with the man, and yet, if it came to it, he’d have to do what was necessary to protect the paranormal community.
Positive, he told himself, think positive. He almost sneered as he tossed back his drink. Sure, yeah, positive. He was positive things were going to get worse before they got better.
His phone rang, and he glanced at caller ID. Quenton was on the line. First gut instinct was to ignore the call. Anytime Kenshin had received bad news over the last few days, it was always on the phone. He laughed. If he didn’t answer, the man would just come looking for him.
“Hello, Quenton,” he said as he poured himself another drink.
“I think I found Feral.”
“Who? This is Kenshin. Is that who you wanted?”
He heard the other man huff out an impatient breath. “Did you not see my email?”
“Sorry, I haven’t gotten around to checking my computer.”
“Well, then what the hell use is it to us if no one uses the bloody thing? I might as well use carrier pigeons.”
Kenshin smiled. Only Quenton had the ability to make him smile when everything was going to shit. “Do you want me to requisition them for you?”
“No, you ass, I want you to start reading your email. Whatever. Reaper and I had the idea that we might want to see if we can locate an Ancient with a true Liaison. The last one we found mention of was an Ancient named Feral and his human Lucian. This was about two hundred fifty years ago. I was able to access records from vampire historians, and I believe Feral is living in New York.”
“Do you have the name he’s using now?”
“It’s Liam Phillips.”
“Good. I’ll contact the PIA office there and see if they can get us a meet. Between Talon and Joelle and now Charon and Aislinn, we need answers.”
“Let me know what you find out.”
Kenshin disconnected then dialed the director out of the New York Office. He would choose his words carefully since he wanted to keep the lid on things. No use having the entire vampire population in an uproar. And, if the blood cult got wind, the whole thing could blow up in their faces. Not something anyone wanted. For now, he decided the only people who needed to know anything were the few who already knew.
Chapter Nine
Aislinn sat up and looked around. She was in bed. Well, hell, the scariest thing was, she didn’t remember getting there. Again. She wondered if she had some strange sleeping illness. All she knew was, if this kept up, she was going in for a physical. She closed her eyes, trying to remember the last thing she did before the forgetting had begun. She had showered and dressed, pretended not to watch HGTV even though she was now secretly addicted. She didn’t understand what the draw was since she didn’t own a house and probably wouldn’t, but anytime she flipped the channel on, she was transfixed by it.
Joelle, she’d seen Joelle. Aislinn knocked on her brow. Think, she told herself. Charon was hurt. The images flooded her mind. Blood, so much blood, and he’d been covered in it. Dying. Joelle had told her he was dying. Frantically, Aislinn leaped from the bed and began running around to find clothes. She had to get to him, find him.
“Aislinn, what is it?”
His voice stopped her. She turned to find him standing in the bathroom door, watching her. Emotions flooded her—curiosity, need, worry, fear—they were all there. She swayed under the impact of feeling so much so fast. Then his arms were around her, and she was safe. She clung to him and breathed him in. His scent was dark and spicy and uniquely Charon. Like his blood.
“What’s going on?” she asked as she looked up at him. “I feel, I don’t know, too much.”
“Let’s sit,” he said, taking her arm and steering her to the bed.
It was then she realized she was naked. She grabbed the sheet and pulled it around herself. She was sure she heard him made a sound, and she turned to watch him.
“What? You didn’t have to cover up.”
She huffed out a breath. “You think we’re going to have a serious conversation with my boobs hanging out?”
He gave her a lopsided smile. “I wouldn’t mind.”
“Of course you wouldn’t, you’re a man. Joelle told me that men can only think of one thing, and I believe her now.”
“No, we can do more than that, but often don’t want to.”
Aislinn leaned over and took his hand. “What happened? Please tell me.”
“You remember the call we got?” At her nod, he went on. “We got jumped by two bear shifters. One got me in the shoulder with its claws, but Reaper and I were able to take them both down. He called for medical and blood. There are donors that work for the PIA, and I think she met us. I know I drank, but it didn’t taste right. In fact, it made me sick. It felt like fire in my stomach, and I know I threw up. I don’t remember anything else until I came to in the medical room with you.”
“I gave you blood,” she said, holding out her wrist. “Joelle said you were dying and couldn’t drink from anyone else. When you did, it was like my body was jolted by electricity or something. I don’t really have clear memories of everything. But you do. You know what happened.” They weren’t questions; they were statements, because she knew he knew what was going on with them.
He nodded slowly. “You begged me to take you. You were pulling your clothes off and begging me.” He leaned forward and nuzzled her neck. “You begged me to take you hard and fast. You begged me to bi
te you.”
She shivered as the memory of his fangs sliding into her neck came back to her. She’d wanted it then, and she still wanted it. The feel of him, the scent of him, and the bite had all combined to overwhelm her.
“Do you want it, Irish?”
“Yes,” she said, pressing her neck to his mouth. His fangs danced along her vein and moisture eased from between her legs.
“Do you know what I want more than my fangs in your flesh? I want your nails and teeth digging into me.”
“I bit you,” she said suddenly. “I remember biting you on the shoulder. It tasted so good.”
He pulled back to look at her. “I remember when you bit me.”
He looked over at his left shoulder where the claw marks were already healed. There weren’t even scars, but last night, he’d had open wounds and she’d bitten him. She’d drunk his blood. She had to have. He studied her. She looked fine; hell, she looked better than fine. She was utterly gorgeous.
Liaison. The word swam through his mind until it connected. Joelle was Talon’s Liaison. He drank her blood, and she drank his. He couldn’t drink from anyone else, and if you asked him, he didn’t want to. Charon frowned. Did he feel the same way? Hell yeah, he couldn’t imagine being with anyone else other than Aislinn. She was his, had always been his.
“What? Tell me, I can tell something has you worried.”
“You said you bit me on the shoulder, and it tasted good. That was my blood. You drank from me as I drank from you.”
Aislinn opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She was stunned, he thought, but not grossed out. Emotions, he was sensing her emotions. Need also came across, the need for him and his blood. The thought of fucking her while they both fed gave him an instant hard on. He wanted nothing more than to be inside of her.
“You’re thinking about sex. Again,” she said with a shake of her head.
He burst out laughing. “Well yeah, but I can’t help it when I’m with you. I want you. I told you that.”
“Wait, it’s like I can feel you wanting me. Does that make sense? I know I’m not crazy. I know I’m not. I feel what you feel. I know I do.” Heck, maybe she was crazy. Humans didn’t drink blood or imagined they could read minds. Yet, here she was, doing both.
“You’re not crazy,” he said, anger heating his words. “What you’re feeling is real; what’s happening between us is real. I drank your blood, you drank mine, and now, we can sense the other’s feelings. We’ll have to talk with Talon and Joelle to see what more they can tell us, but what’s happening is real.”
She didn’t want to ask, but knew she had to. She had to know if he was okay with it. If he couldn’t drink from anyone else, that left her and that meant for as long as she lived. Would he want that?
“Yes,” he said before she could ask. “My parents couldn’t get rid of me fast enough. I’ve had nothing all my life, and yet, here you are. You are my gift from the universe. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I plan on keeping you.”
Aislinn forgot about the sheet and her nakedness when she climbed into Charon’s lap. She wrapped herself around him and just held on. She, too, had never had anything of her own. She hadn’t had a family or a home, but this incredible man was giving her one. He was giving her everything.
* * * *
Grimm stalked through the flashing lights and pounding music. In the club, his ice white hair stood out in stark contrast with his all black clothing. As he worked his way through the crowd, both men and women watched him go, but he didn’t have time. He was chasing a scent. He’d caught it when he was out hunting, and it had drawn him to the club. Unlike all the other times, the aroma wasn’t the rotting of a vampire, but a delicious mixture of sweet and spice.
He couldn’t say what it was exactly about the scent, but it hit a nerve deep inside and just wouldn’t let go. He knew he should be out tracking the blood cult, but he had to find where the fragrance was coming from. As soon as his curiosity was satisfied, he told himself, he was out of there.
Grimm drew close to the dance floor and watched the people bump and grind. Closing his eyes, he concentrated and knew the person who held the scent was on the dance floor. Without a thought, he prowled among the dancers, easing around and through. Men and women both attempted to dance with him, but he ignored them. All he cared about was the trail. He was a Hunter and knew his job well. Knew it until he saw her and thought she was the source, hoped she was.
She flipped her heavy, black hair around as she moved gracefully to the hard driving rhythm. The clothing she wore was nothing special, jeans and red tee, but she was so exotically beautiful Grimm could barely breathe as he watched her. Her large dark almond-shaped eyes were tilted up and surrounded by thick heavy lashes. High cheek bones and a full lush mouth completed the image. To Grimm, though, it was all about the scent. She smelled utterly eatable.
He moved toward her until he could lock eyes with her. She looked up and gave a small half smile as she began to dance in front of him. He joined her, and, in just a brief moment, they were in perfect sync. Until he realized the scent wasn’t coming from her. It was behind her.
Without a second look, he worked his way past the woman he had been dancing with to the one beyond. She was the source. He could smell it coming off of her and instantly grew hard. As he moved in, she turned to look at him. Ordinary, was his first thought, with her shoulder length brown hair and the square-framed glasses perched on her nose. It was the eyes, though, that caught him. They were a rich storm gray. She turned to stare at him, obviously surprised to see him near her. She offered a smile, and he gave a small one in return. The two of them rocked out to the music as Grimm eased in close to her.
Her aroma wrapped around him, catching him as surely as any trap. A trap he didn’t want to escape from. Soon, they were sliding body against body as the music pounded. He leaned close to breathe deep and take her scent inside his lungs, inside his body. He thought he could find her anywhere now, her fragrance was so distinct. Before he could gain control, his fangs dropped, and all he wanted to do was sink them into her neck. Not good, he told himself. Usually, he had much more control, but with this stranger, it was gone. The voice in his head told him he should leave, but he didn’t want to. He was intoxicated by her.
“Tell me your name,” he said as he leaned in close. He had to know. Then he could leave. Once he knew who she was, he had to leave.
“Kate,” she said and he could almost sense her reluctance.
“Grimm,” he told her, giving his real name.
Before he could say more, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He wanted to ignore it, but knew he couldn’t. He pulled it out and checked it. Kenshin. Of course it was; what else was new?
“It was nice to meet you, Kate,” he said as he took her hand and kissed it.
With one last look, he turned and quickly left the club.
* * * *
Reaper’s phone chimed. He had a text. Anticipation oozed through his body. Was it Quenton? The thought of the man brought a smile to his face. He pulled it out and almost gave a fist pump. Quenton’s name appeared as the sender of the message. He flipped his phone open and read: Found what we’ve been looking for. Will arrive within the next two days.
Looking for? Hell, the only thing Reaper had been looking for was Quenton naked in his bed. But then, he stopped and remembered the other Ancient, Feral. Fuck, had they found him? In a blink, he was gone back to PIA headquarters.
* * * *
Aislinn slumped across Charon’s naked sweat slicked body. The near constant orgasms had wrung her out as her heart thundered in her chest. It was okay, since he was in the same state. Nowhere, not even in her wildest dreams, could she have foreseen her life. Just thinking about the idea of being in love with a vampire was something that should have made her doubt her sanity. But, for the first time in her life, she didn’t. She knew it was real—him, her feelings, everything.
“I feel the same way,” he said,
drowsily.
“What?” She tried to look up at him, but couldn’t lift her head. She settled for patting his chest.
“I love you, too.”
That did bring her head up. The two of them watched one another and smiled. There was nothing that could question what he said. She could feel it from him. He loved her. She wondered if he loved her because she was his Liaison or she was his Liaison because he loved her.
He shook his head. “I love you. The end. Liaison, no Liaison, it doesn’t matter. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. You were mine from the first moment I laid eyes on you trying to fight off that soul sucker in the hospital corridor.”
“And you’re mine. You’ve been mine from the moment you appeared out of nowhere and stuck a knife in that soul sucker’s chest.”
“Damn, we’re romantic.” He smiled and winked at her.
“Works for us,” she said and leaned down and kissed him.
About the Author
Gwendolyn Cease has been writing ever since she was old enough to pick up a pen. From the very beginning, her stories involved handsome heroes, tough heroines, and happily ever after. Even as she slogged through two undergraduate degrees and a master’s in education, writing remained top priority. Though she now works full-time as a history museum educator, she still makes time for her characters and their never-ending adventures.
Currently, Gwendolyn lives in Kentucky with her incredibly spoiled cats. If you’d like to contact her, she’d love to hear from you. She loves to hear from anyone who enjoys a good book, especially the ones she’s written. She can be found at http://www.gwendolyncease.com.
Also Available from
Resplendence Publishing
Dark Promise by Gwendolyn Cease
Promises Series, Book One
Joelle Quinn doesn't live much differently than any other working person, holding down two jobs and struggling to keep her head above water. But all of that changes when a vampire walks into her life. He doesn't ask for much: he merely wants Joelle to give her blood to another vampire, one who is nearly insane.
A Hunters Promise Page 11