A Body to Die For

by Kimberly Raye

  She killed the engine and sat there for a few seconds trying to gather her control. Just one teensy, tiny move and she was going to—

  She bit down on her bottom lip and fought back the burst of dizzying pleasure. Her vision clouded, and she clamped her eyes shut. Her ears rang. She could feel her fangs sharp against her tongue. Her hands tightened on the handlebars, and she braced herself.

  Not yet. Not like—

  “Are you okay?”

  Garret’s voice pushed past the roar in her head, and she forced her eyes open to find him staring back at her.

  He sat a few feet away on the black and chrome chopper. His hands rested atop his thighs. He looked as relaxed as ever except for the tense set to his jaw. As if he knew the turmoil her body was caught in, and it took all of his strength not to climb off the motorcycle and help her out.

  “I…” She swallowed against the tightness in her throat and summoned her control. “I’m just feeling a little dizzy. It was a rough ride.” And not nearly satisfying enough. “I…Just let me sit here for a minute and catch my bearings.”

  She waited for him to remind her that she was a vampire who wasn’t susceptible to motion sickness. She could leap tall buildings and levitate and walk on water, for Pete’s sake. Motion sickness? Forget about it.

  He didn’t say a word. Instead, he gave her a thoughtful look before he finally shrugged and climbed off the bike.

  He walked over to the edge of the water and hunkered down. Pulling out a shiny black PDA, he started keying in notes. He seemed oblivious to Viv, and she sent up a silent thank-you.

  She spent the next few minutes telling herself every reason why she shouldn’t climb off the bike, march over to him and jump his bones.

  Slow, she reminded herself. Easy. She needed him to be the aggressor. That’s why she’d had an orgasm in the first place. Because he’d seduced her. He’d turned the tables on her and taken control. That’s what had sent her over the edge.

  If she took the lead, she wouldn’t be any more satisfied than she’d been with any other man. She had to wait on him.

  She eyed his broad back outlined by the moonlight reflecting off the calm water. Her tummy tingled and her knees shook and desperation coiled low in her belly.

  No, she wasn’t going to jump him.

  At the same time, she wasn’t going to sit here and just wait. She had to do something.

  “Shimmy, shake, shazam.” Winona’s crackling voice echoed through her head.

  It had been the woman’s last piece of advice when Viv had called her on the way to Skull Creek Choppers that evening.

  “If the drop and retrieve didn’t send him over the edge, you have to get more aggressive. You got to send a crystal-clear message that says you’re ready for sex, and nothing does that better than stripping buck naked smack dab in front of him.”

  “Isn’t that a little too aggressive?”

  “Not if you don’t say the words. See, telling a man you want to have sex with him takes all the guesswork out of it, which takes away the challenge. Every man wants what he can’t have. So the key here is to let him see what it is he can’t have. Sort of like dangling the carrot in front of him. Then when he makes like Bugs Bunny and tries to grab you, you back off.”

  “Why would I back off if he tries to grab me?”

  “’Cause you’re dangling, darlin’. Trust me, if you strip naked and employ my infamous Triple S, he’ll make another move. And then another. My rule of thumb is three moves minimum. Then you can give in. Just remember to shimmy and shake every time you take off something.”

  “What about the shazam? How do I do that?”

  “It’s not something you do, darlin’.” The old woman laughed. “That’s what happens when that man finally gets ahold of you. Shazam!”

  Viv gathered her courage and turned on the state-of-the-art sound system built into the chopper’s dash. A frantic heavy metal song blasted from the speakers, and she punched the buttons until she found a soft, slow country song with just enough beat for what she had in mind.

  She climbed off the bike. “Nice sound system,” she commented. “Is it standard on all your bikes?”

  “We don’t have a ‘standard.’ We cater to each customer.” He didn’t spare her a glance. “Some want more power than others. Some want CD only. Some want XM. Some want it all. We give them what they want.”

  “It’s nice.” She fingered the edge of the red sequined tank top she’d bought today just minutes before the boutique had closed. Actually, they’d already turned off the sign, but she’d used her persuasive gaze to get the salesclerk to open up for one final purchase—a blue jean mini-skirt, strappy tank and a pair of killer red heels. “So, um, how did your bike handle?”

  “Fine, with the exception of a few suspension problems. But they’re easy to fix.” He still didn’t turn her way.

  “So,” she came up next to him on the riverbank, “where exactly are we?”

  “The river.”

  “I know that. What river?”

  “It’s really deep, so the folks around here call it the Bottomless Pit.”

  “That sort of kills the mood.”

  A warm chuckle vibrated on the air. “Black Bottom River is the official name.”

  “Oh.” She went silent for a few moments as the night’s sounds closed in on her. The occasional hooting of an owl, the faint ripple of water, the click of his fingers on the PDA, the distant drone of the highway miles away. Wind rippled, sneaking beneath the edge of her skirt to tickle her thighs and the tender flesh between her legs.

  She shifted. “Garret?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Could you look here for a second? I’ve got something to show you.”

  He didn’t budge. “I really need to finish these adjustments for the suspension system in case I forget something.”

  She would lay money down that he never forgot a thing, whether keyed in or not. She tamped down on her disappointment and gathered her courage.

  “Boy, it’s hot out here.” She slid a hand under her hair and lifted it. Her back arched and her breasts pushed up and out, but he didn’t spare her a glance. “Maybe I’ll just cool off.” She knelt near the water and splashed some onto her face, careful to let it drip down into her cleavage. “Uh-oh. I’m all wet now.”

  In more ways than one.

  He still didn’t look at her. “I’ve got an extra T-shirt under the seat on my bike if you need to dry off.”

  “Thanks, but I’m fine.” She pushed to her feet and barely resisted kicking him in the side. That would get his attention.

  And cause major damage. She wanted him in her bed, not the hospital. “It’s a really nice night. Would you look at that moon?”

  He didn’t, and she re-evaluated her earlier decision. The toe of her shoe caught him in the ribs.

  Hey, he was a vampire. He would heal.

  “Ouch!” His head whipped around, and his ice-blue gaze stared up at her. “What the hell was that for?”

  She shrugged. “Sorry.” She gave him an innocent smile. “I guess I lost my balance.”

  He didn’t look the least bit convinced, but at least he was looking at her.

  Before she could reach for the strap of her tank top, however, he turned back to his PDA.

  “My front drive shaft was a little shaky,” he commented, as if trying to get his thoughts back on business. “I’ll have to make some tweaks to it.”

  “This place is really great,” she tried for more conversation. “Do you come here often?”

  “I live here.”

  She glanced toward the opposite bank and the lush green grass that stretched toward a distant wall of trees. “Unless you’re pitching a tent over there every night—one with Kryptonite walls—I doubt you live here.”

  A grin tugged at his mouth. “Kryptonite’s for superheroes, sugar, not vampires, and I didn’t mean here at the river. I meant here on the property.” He motioned to the north. “I’ve got a place just
beyond those trees over there.”

  “Oh.” She remembered the name of the river and a light bulb went off in her brain. “Black Bottom as in Sam Black.” The man he’d once been.

  The man she’d betrayed.

  “I…” she started, only to clamp down on her bottom lip. She couldn’t change the past with a simple I’m sorry, no matter how heartfelt. And she certainly couldn’t erase the hurt.

  The only way to ease that would be to give him back the humanity that she took from him, which she fully intended to do.

  Soon.

  The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and once again she felt the strange awareness. They were catching up to her. “So, um, do you come here often?” It sounded cheesy even to her ears, but it was the only thing she could think of to say.

  She needed to talk. To cut the tension that stretched so tightly between them.

  “Every now and then. It’s peaceful here. And wide open.” He spared a glance at his surroundings. “It helps me think.”

  Because he couldn’t think when he was cooped up and barricaded in during the day. Hiding from the sunlight. Smothering because of what he was.

  “I know the feeling,” she blurted before she could think better of it. “My folks had this old farmhouse, and I used to hide under the boards when I was first turned. I hated it. It was so dark. So damp. But at least it was safe.”

  “What about your folks?” He spared her a glance then, his gaze drilling into her for a long, piercing moment. “Did they really die in a fire? Or did you lie about that, too?”

  She ignored the urge to turn, to run the way she’d been doing her entire life. But she couldn’t escape her past. She knew that now. What’s more, she didn’t want to. Instinctively, her hand went to her throat, her fingers searching for the St. Benedict medal. Bare skin met bare skin, and she remembered that she’d left it back in her suitcase.

  She stiffened and gathered her courage. “My mother did die in a fire.” She hadn’t deceived him about that. Not completely. “But my father…” She caught her lip for a long moment before the words trembled out. “My father is the one who turned me.” She’d never actually said the words out loud to anyone. She’d never been able to.

  Until now.

  Suddenly, she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Even more, she didn’t want to.

  She wanted to tell him the truth. And she did.

  14

  “HE WENT OUT gambling one night and didn’t come home for three days.” Her voice broke the calm silence. “That was typical for him, though. He was always leaving us, disappearing for days.” She stared out over the water, seeing the old farmhouse instead.

  Her father stood on the front porch. He wore his usual stained overalls, his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal meaty forearms. The stench of moonshine rolled off him, along with something else.

  A dark, forbidden anger that never failed to send her running into the fields to hide from him.

  Her palms started to sweat, and she clutched at the medal that dangled around her neck. It matched the one that her mother wore. St. Benedict. The protector. The medal felt cold against her palm, and anxiety rolled through her. Along with fear.

  Run. Hide.

  She’d done just that so many times.

  Often he’d found her, but sometimes—those blessed few times—he hadn’t.

  Run. Hide.

  She hadn’t had a chance to do either that night.

  “I thought he was just drunk at first,” she said, her lips trembling around the words. “He had that crazy look in his eyes the way he always did. But there was something else…I didn’t know what it was at first. But then he opened his mouth, and I saw his fangs.” She blinked against the sudden burning at the backs of her eyes.

  “He attacked my mother before I could blink,” she went on when she managed to find her voice. “One minute she was standing there, and the next her throat was ripped open and she was bleeding out onto the floor.” He’d snatched the medal off the older woman’s neck and lapped up the blood while Viv had watched. Terror pumping through her small body. Her own medal digging into her small hands. “He turned on me then. I tried to get away.” A lump pushed its way into her throat, and she swallowed it back down. “I ran for the door, but he caught me. I fought him and knocked over one of the lanterns.” She shook her head. “One minute my mother was just lying there, and the next her dress was on fire. I tried to help, but then he grabbed me and…” The words stumbled into one another, and she swallowed again.

  The past was there, right in front of her. She could see the bright orange flames, feel the heat and the pain and the terror.

  “That explains why you looked so freaked out at the fire back at the machine shop.” His deep voice slid into her ears and drew her away from the carnage, back to the present.

  The images faded, and she found herself staring at a lush stretch of green grass that led to a thick patch of trees.

  She nodded. “By the time he was finished drinking from me, I was almost dead, and my mother had burned beyond recognition. It was too late for him to turn her. I wanted him to let me die, too, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t.”

  Because he was a cruel bastard who’d done nothing but hurt her since the day she’d been born. As a vampire, that cruelty had been magnified.

  “He turned me and then he disappeared. I haven’t seen him since.” She faced Garret then, her gaze finally meeting his. “He didn’t die like I told you, but I wished he had. He was a hateful man. He hit my mother and he…” She caught her bottom lip, fighting back the darker images—the ones she’d buried deep down inside—that threatened to swamp her. “He wasn’t much better to me.”

  Garret’s gaze brightened into a vicious red, and she knew he was pissed.

  At her? Because she’d lied to him?

  Or for her?

  If she hadn’t known better, she would have put her money on number two. But she’d hurt him too badly for him to care one way or the other.

  She shrugged. “I’ve had a long time to come to terms with what happened to me, and I’m okay with it. But still, he should have died in that fire. In my mind, he did.”

  The red faded into an icy blue, and she was left to wonder if she’d only imagined his rage. “My dad eventually died of a heart attack,” he told her, as if one admission deserved another. It didn’t, but oddly enough, hearing his voice soothed the frantic beat of her heart and calmed the images that pushed and pulled inside of her. “My mom died of consumption. Not that I was there. I didn’t trust myself to see them after I turned, so I took off.”

  “How did you find out what happened to them?” She shifted her attention away from her own demons, and concentrated on his.

  He held up the PDA. “Technology is a beautiful thing.” He grinned, easing the dark mood that had gripped them. His expression faded. “I’m really sorry about your mother.”

  He looked as surprised by the sincerity of his words as she was. But then the look vanished as he shifted his attention back to his PDA. “I really need to finish a few notes.”

  She stood there beside him for the next few moments trying to ignore the past that fluttered in and out of her head. Not the bad memories. No, those had faded along with the conversation. The memories that haunted her now featured the two of them. Outside. In the moonlight.

  Talking. Sharing. Making love.

  Not. Making love required being in love, which they weren’t. No matter how much she’d pretended otherwise back then.

  Rather, they’d had sex. Lots and lots and lots of sex.

  Her body stirred, still fired up after her frenzied state just moments ago. Hunger clawed inside of her. She felt itchy and tight. Anxious. Alive. And painfully aware of the vampire who sat so close.

  Physically, that is.

  Emotionally, he seemed a thousand miles away.

  “I—I really ought to take some pictures of this for my article.” With the information she already had from Eldin and several o
ther businesses around town, she’d written the copy on Skull Creek, calling it the “sexiest small town in Texas.” She’d e-mailed it to her editor tonight. All she needed now were a few more photos to support the text, and she would be finished.

  The river and the moonlight definitely portrayed the sexy image she was trying to project to her readers. Besides, a few pictures would give her something to do while he finished with his notes. Then he would look at her long enough for her to seduce him.

  She meant to walk to the pink chopper and retrieve the camera she’d stowed under the seat. She really did. But her feet seemed to have a will all their own. Instead of turning, she stepped forward, out onto the water. Her feet barely skimmed the surface—another vamp perk—as she made her way around in front of him.

  He didn’t glance up from his PDA.

  Doubt pushed past the determination dictating her actions, and she almost turned and headed back to the riverbank. She should wait.

  She would wait.

  If she had the time.

  But the minutes were slipping away, and Molly and Cruz were getting closer. The phone call was evidence. Enough to prompt her to finish the article and tie up that loose end. The prickling awareness that followed her around, reminding her of Washington and the ambush, was even more proof.

  It was now or never.

  She backed up several feet, putting a little distance between them while she worked up her nerve. Finally, she stopped.

  Her ears tuned to the music, and she closed her eyes for a long moment to block out the man hunkered down on the riverbank. The beat filled her head and thrummed through her body as she started to move.

  She swayed, a subtle rotation of her hips from side to side. A vision slid into her head, and the past pulled her back. To the small barn where she’d found him saddling up to ride out and join his regiment.

  One look into her eyes, and he’d forgotten all about the horse. He’d stripped them both down to nothing and pressed her down into the soft, sweet-smelling hay one last time.

  He spread her legs wide and plunged deep inside. Her eyes closed as pleasure swelled and crashed over her. Her nerve endings came alive. Her heart thundered. Her ears rang. Her blood pounded.