And, just like that, he was gone. No kiss good-bye, no explanation of why he had to sleep somewhere else when he had a dark room with a perfectly good bed right there, and with her in it. Bastard. He still didn’t trust her. Her lips twisted. She supposed she could understand why, but at some point, he was going to have to put the past behind them. Or walk away. Her heart ached at the thought. She didn’t want him to walk away. Didn’t want him to be able to. She already knew she couldn’t do it. How the hell had she gone from a hardened vampire killer to falling in love with one of them instead? And not just any one of them, but a vampire lord. The future ruler of all Ireland’s vampires, if he was to be believed. He sure as hell believed it, which meant she did, too. She’d never met a more determined man than Quinn Kavanagh, vampire or human.
She sighed. So what to do now? She’d already slept a few hours after being fucked into unconsciousness by a certain vampire. She could stay in this room for a while, this very nice room with an intensely masculine vibe—heavy mahogany furniture that gleamed with deep red highlights, a central chandelier that was a fucking piece of art and sure as hell hadn’t been picked up at the local IKEA. The drapes were a heavy, deep-burnished gold, the bed linens a shade darker than that.
But as nice as the room was, she didn’t feel like hanging around all day doing nothing. She didn’t even have her laptop with her, which meant she couldn’t get any work done. And she’d spent enough hours spying on Quinn’s estate that she knew the place closed down tight during the day. There was no activity at all, except for the daylight guards and their conscientious routines. She was going to be bored out of her damn mind.
“All right, Eve,” she said, speaking out loud because everything was just so quiet. It was never this quiet at her flat. “Get your ass out of this bed, and get going. Right,” she added, as if answering herself. She threw the covers back and padded over to the most luxurious bathroom she’d ever seen. She’d seen the guest bath at Sorley’s mansion, which had a more prestigious address than Quinn’s. It had been nice enough, but the style had been old and fussy. Full of elaborate gold fixtures and mirror frames, with heavy, flocked wallpaper. It had all cost a fortune, she was sure, but it had none of the clean lines and welcoming luxury of Quinn’s. His was the kind of bath that made you want to fill the tub and soak for an hour. Maybe light some candles and drink a glass of wine while doing it.
Of course, all that would be better if she had Quinn in the bathtub with her. Stupid vampire.
She settled for a hot shower and clean hair. She didn’t have her hair dryer and couldn’t find one anywhere in the bedroom or bath, so she braided her wet hair away from her face instead. It would still be wet by the time she got home to Howth, and maybe she’d dry it then. Or maybe she wouldn’t bother. From the looks of things, she’d be spending more time facing down enemy vampires than enjoying romantic dinners over candlelight. At least, for the next few days.
When she went to get dressed, she realized her panties were gone, courtesy of Quinn’s impatience, and her skirt was short. Nothing she could do about that. On the other hand, her car was still parked down the block, so at least she didn’t have to worry about some pervert staring up her skirt while she sat on the train. Wearing her Nike trainers, which simply didn’t belong with the skirt, she made her way down the wood-floored hallway, noticing that all the other doors were closed, and the entire wing was perfectly silent. Did vampires sleep behind those other doors? A wicked voice inside her head told her to peek in and see, but she squashed that idea with little effort. Even if it was true, it struck her as beyond rude, more like a taboo or an intolerable perversion, to spy on vampires while they were helpless in sleep.
She opened the outside door to a wet, winter’s morning. The rain had let up only a few minutes ago, but the grey sky and heavy clouds told her it could start again at any moment. Taking that as a sign she should get her ass in gear, she tightened her jacket and walked quickly towards the front gate.
It took a few minutes. Quinn’s house was big, and she’d had to go all the way around. The main part of the house, which Quinn had referred to as a business office, was locked up tight, so she couldn’t cut through. There was a lovely path along the side yard, but it was meant for sunnier days meandering around. Still, she didn’t have much choice, and she walked along the path until she finally reached the front. One of Quinn’s guards was waiting for her when she emerged from the side yard.
“Ms. Connelly.”
She smiled, feeling awkward. There was only one reason for her to be slipping out with the sunrise, and that was because she’d been fucking one of the vamps the night before. The guard knew her name and probably which vampire she’d spent the night with, too. What was it the Americans called this? The walk of shame. Except she didn’t have anything to be ashamed about. She was young, single, and free, and she could fuck anyone she wanted, for as long as she wanted.
“My car’s down the block,” she explained.
“I know. Would you like some breakfast first?”
Eve’s stomach growled at the mention of food. Come to think of it, she hadn’t eaten dinner last night, because she’d been with Quinn. The downside of dating a vampire? You couldn’t count on regular meals together. “You have breakfast here?” she asked him.
He nodded. “For the daylight crew. Come on, I’ll show you.” He started walking back the way she’d just come. “My name’s Bell, by the way. Joshua Bell.”
“I’m Eve, but you probably know that.”
He nodded and turned up a short walk to a side door on the house. “Lord Quinn put your name on the visitors’ list.”
Eve eyed him shrewdly. “And I bet you ran me.”
“Of course, I did,” he said unapologetically. “The safety of everyone on this estate, including Lord Quinn, is my responsibility.”
“What’d you discover?”
He led her into a very modern kitchen and yanked open one door of the biggest refrigerator she’d ever seen. “Everything’s fresh. Eggs, fruit, fruit juice. There might be yogurt, though we don’t get much call for that. There’s frozen stuff down below, mostly breakfast and snack types. We have a cook who comes in to prepare fresh lunch and dinner. My guys have big appetites.” He closed the refrigerator and opened a double cupboard next to it. “Baked goods. Pastries, breads, and bagels. There might be some scones left. Coffee machine and electric kettle.” He pointed to those devices on the countertop. “Coffee pods and tea in the cupboard just above it.” He finished with a flourish and a grin. “And that’s it.”
Eve was a little overwhelmed, so she said the first thing that came to mind. “You didn’t answer my question. What’d you discover when you ran me?”
He regarded her steadily. “You received better than good grades all through school. You were admitted to Trinity College, graduated with honors, and were accepted into their graduate program, when”—he paused and met her eyes—“your brother’s death ended all that. You dropped out and began doing private research on the side, writing thesis papers and dissertations for other people, instead of finishing your own. All of which produces just enough income to support yourself and your aging mother.”
Eve looked away, uncomfortable with such a flat distillation of her life, even though it was accurate, as far as it went. She was hardly going to insist he include her nighttime hunting habit. “Anything else?”
“Nothing of note,” he said, although she had a feeling he wasn’t being completely honest with her. And why would he be? For all his friendliness, his loyalty was to Quinn, not her. “Any questions?” he said, waving a hand to indicate he was talking about breakfast.
She considered. “I do have a question.”
He gave her an inquiring look.
“You know a lot about guns, right?”
He seemed to relax, as if he’d expected something a lot more diff
icult from her. “That’s putting it mildly.”
“Good. I have this gun.” She started to pull it from her purse, but thought better of it. “I’m taking it out now, okay?”
He nodded, but she saw that his eyes followed every move of her hand as she pulled the Sig out of her purse and placed it on the counter.
He picked it up, popped the mag and set it aside, then racked the slide and removed the chambered round. “Sig P938,” he said, laying it on the counter. “6 round mag, plus one in the chamber if you’re smart, given the small magazine. You have a question?”
She blinked. He’d handled the gun with the same competence as Quinn. She didn’t want to look like an idiot, not knowing more about her own gun, but on the other hand, she really wanted an answer. “Okay, I bought this for self-defense a while back. I was feeling jumpy after Alan was murdered. I didn’t know why they’d gone after him, and . . .” She saw the sympathy on his face, and looked away, feeling guilty about lying. She cleared her throat nervously. “Anyway, everyone says”—she was careful not to admit she had any personal experience on the subject—“that the ammo I’m using isn’t any good against a vampire. But I’ve heard there’s something else out there—”
“Wait,” he said, holding a hand up to stop her. “You want my advice on how to kill vampires?”
She frowned. “Not every vampire, obviously. But I was with Quinn last night when he faced off against some of Sorley’s vamps, and it seems like that’s likely to happen again in the near future. It would nice if I could do more than stand around wringing my hands.”
He eyed her carefully. “Can you shoot?”
She nodded. “I have over 100 hours on the range. I know that’s not much,” she hurried to add. “But I go whenever I can, and . . . and I’m good,” she finished defiantly.
“It’s enough. I’ll tell you what. I’ve got some work to do first, but if you meet me here in, say, four hours, I’ll take you to the range myself, and check you out. If you’re as good as you say, I’ll get you the ammo you need.”
She gave him a huge smile. “Thanks! Um. Here? Like, the kitchen, or—?”
“In the front, near the garage. We’ll go to the range, then grab lunch on the way back, and you can explain some of this Irish food to me.”
“Great! I need to run home first and change. But I’ll be back in time.” She grabbed a fruit pastie, took a big bite, then wrapped the rest in a napkin, and headed for the door. If she left now, she’d have plenty of time to get to Howth, shower and change, and pack a few things, just in case she spent another night with Quinn. No more short skirts without panties for her.
“You sure that’s all you want to eat?” Bell asked, following her outside.
She swallowed and said, “Gotta save room for lunch.”
“All right, come on, then. I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” she dismissed. “This is Ballsbridge not Balleyback. Besides, it’s sunrise. All the bad guys are asleep in their beds by now.”
He smiled. “All the same,” he said calmly. “I’ll see you there safely.”
Eve rolled her eyes where he couldn’t see it. Quinn had clearly left marching orders where she was concerned. She wasn’t going to waste her breath.
Bell walked her the short distance. Taking her keys, he unlocked the car and inspected it inside and out, before stepping back, and handing the keys to her. “Drive safely now.”
“I will. And I’ll see you later.”
EVE WAS HALFWAY home to Howth when her cell phone rang, startling her. She checked her dashboard clock and saw it read 10:05 am. Hanging around with vampires was screwing with her sense of time, but sunrise was between 8:30 – 9:00 this time of year, so that had to be right. She’d somehow thought it was later. She couldn’t imagine who would be calling her this early. Most of her clients were graduate students and didn’t crawl out of bed before noon.
Grabbing her phone, she risked life and limb long enough to check the display. She winced. It was her mother. Probably calling to complain about Eve not having come by in days. She’d be full of tales of prescriptions gone unfilled—they weren’t—and bare food shelves—they weren’t either. Brigid Connelly walked to the store every damn day, mostly for the gossip, and the pharmacy was right next door. But she wouldn’t stop calling until Eve answered.
She accepted the call. “Good morning, Mam. You’re up bright and early.”
“I can barely sleep anymore with these hip pains.”
Eve knew better than to respond to that.
“Where are you?” her mother demanded.
“Dublin,” she lied. “I’ve been doing some research for a client.”
“Another cheater, you mean.”
“Yeah, well, those cheaters provide me a nice income. I should get back to it.”
“When are you returning to Howth?”
Eve grimaced. “I’m not quite sure. If there’s something you—”
“There’s something we need to discuss. Tonight will do.”
“Mam, I’m not sure—”
“Alan was always so good to me, so attentive. If he were still alive—”
Eve cut her off. She’d heard it all before, how Alan had been the perfect son—which he had been—and now he was dead, which was somehow all Eve’s fault, and Brigid was left with only her ungrateful daughter to care for her.
“I’ll be there tonight. I’m not sure what time.”
“It’s no matter. I’ve nowhere else to be.”
Christ, she was really laying it on thick this morning. One of the local biddies must have scored points on the gossip scoreboard. A daughter who’d married well, or a son who’d struck it rich, or, the gold medal of gossip, that same son asking his mother to come live with him, so he could take care of her.
“See you then,” Eve muttered. “I’ve got to go.” She tossed the phone down. For a day that had started in Quinn’s bed, this one was sure going downhill fast.
QUINN LEANED AGAINST the open doorway, watching as Eve walked back and forth in the back garden, sometimes talking to herself in a way that sounded like an argument. The garden was lit, courtesy of the small pathway which led along the side of the house and then meandered over a manicured lawn, before ending in a rose garden. The lawn was where Eve paced, debating with herself. According to Joshua Bell, she’d been gone for a few hours this morning, but had returned in time for Bell to take her to the range and make sure she knew how to shoot that gun she was carrying around. Bell had also confided that Eve was after some ammo with enough punch to kill a vampire and had asked if Quinn wanted her to have it. The thought of Eve in possession of vampire-killer rounds was rather terrifying. On the other hand, if she was going to follow him into fights among vampires, as she had last night, it would be better if she could at least defend herself. So he’d told Bell to go ahead.
Since she’d gotten what she wanted from Bell, Quinn was trying to puzzle out what might have brought on the pacing and arguing. His security people told him she’d spent much of the hour before sunset, sitting quietly, seeming to enjoy what was forecast to be only a brief break in the wet weather. The pacing and arguing had only commenced once the sun had set, which was a giant hint that it had something to do with him.
“You could have waited in here,” he said, the words a low murmur that his power sent whispering directly in Eve’s ear.
She spun, expecting him to be right behind her, then spun again when she didn’t find him there. Her gaze lifted to search the yard, eventually seeing him where he stood backlit in the doorway to the residential wing where he, Garrick, and Adorjan had their personal quarters. He smiled at the irritated look on her face, a look she’d smoothed over by the time she’d marched across the lawn and stood looking up at him. He reached down, wrapped an arm around her waist, and
drew her up the three steps to the house entrance, pulling her flush against his chest.
“Good evening, Eve,” he crooned and gave her an intentionally seductive kiss. He wanted her to remember what they’d had the night before, when she’d been trembling in his arms after multiple orgasms, and still pleading for more.
He was satisfied to see that she was flushed and breathless when he finally released her, her heart racing and her arousal scenting the air. She licked her lips. He followed the movement, struck by the sudden desire to suck her plump lower lip between his teeth and bite down. Hard.
“Stop doing that,” she gasped, sounding utterly flustered.
“Doing what?” he whispered against her ear.
“Looking at me like—”
He straightened so he could see her face. “Like what, sweetheart?” He gave her an innocent smile.
“Pfft. Never mind. Can we talk?”
“Aren’t we talking already?”
“Not like this,” she insisted. “Not . . . out here where anyone can listen. And not like”—she waved a hand between them—“this, with you being all sexy and trying to seduce me.”
He grinned. “I’m not trying, Eve.”
“Like that,” she snapped.
His grin became a laugh, but he slid one hand down her arm to clasp her hand and tug her inside and down the hall to his suite.
Once there, he closed the door, then crossed to the sidebar and poured himself two fingers of Irish whiskey, which was beginning to grow on him. He raised the crystal decanter in Eve’s direction, asking if she wanted some. She shook her head. He’d noticed she didn’t drink much. Probably a matter of control, which he could understand well enough. He’d have done the same if he wasn’t a vampire who could drink the whole fucking bottle with no effect.
“Water, if you have it,” she said.
Quinn (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 12) Page 30