Claire frowned. Rafe could see the hurt and bewilderment in her expression. That’s what happened when you got involved with other people. Things got messy. Complicated. He could’ve told her that’s why he didn’t. He sure as hell wouldn’t let himself care about someone the way Claire cared about Julia.
But then Claire seemed to regroup, folding her arms across her chest. “If I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t have spent the last four days searching for you.”
Julia lifted her head and sniffed. “When Shadow brought me to The Colony, Armand took me in, made me feel like I belonged somewhere again.” Her eyes lit up and she glanced back at the white-haired guy. “And I fell in love.”
“And you couldn’t be bothered to call and let me know what happened to you? I thought you’d been abducted, raped, murdered!”
Julia got to her feet, her mouth a petulant pout, and closed the distance between her and Claire. “Shadow stole my phone. He took my purse and everything in it.” Her face cleared and became dreamy. “But we of The Colony don’t need material things to be happy.” She flashed a brilliant smile. “Oh, Claire, I’m in love!” Julia’s dreamy-eyed smile was a bit too manic to be believed. Then she dived back into a sulk. “But you wouldn’t understand.”
“What does that mean?” Claire’s brows lowered. “You don’t think I’m capable of falling in love?”
Julia giggled. “With your microbes, maybe.” Armand laughed and everyone in the room followed suit.
Claire’s mouth dropped open and she blinked a couple times. Rafe fought the urge to go to her and put his arm around her. To tell the selfish little blonde just how passionate Claire could be under her eccentric outfits. But this wasn’t his fight.
Julia’s wild gaze shifted to him, slithering over him from shoulders to zipper. Lingering on the zipper. “Or maybe you have found someone?”
“What?” Claire glanced from Julia to him and back to Julia, her expression feigning innocence. “He’s not— He’s only helping me because I blackmailed him into it.”
Rafe’s stomach clenched. Really? Did she actually believe he’d go to this much trouble just to avoid a few questions from the cops?
Damn. Why the hell was he doing this? He couldn’t think of any other living person he’d have done all this for. Maybe he just wanted this whole fiasco over with. The sooner he found Julia, the sooner Claire went home. But that reasoning didn’t sit right in his gut.
“Poor Claire,” Julia said softly. “I can only hope someday you find what Armand and I have.” She gazed lovingly at Armand.
Rafe felt queasy.
Armand—his name was probably as fake as his French accent—rose from the chaise, sauntered over and draped an arm around Julia’s shoulders. “After tomorrow night, Julia will truly be one of us.”
“Yes.” Julia turned in Armand’s arms. “I’ll be joined with my true family.” She lifted her face to him, and they kissed. Her hair fell back, exposing red puncture marks on her neck. Looked like the rumors were true. Armand was one sick weirdo.
Claire gasped. “Have you let him cut you with something and drink your blood? Have you drunk his?”
Julia turned a brilliant smile on Claire. “I haven’t drunk his yet. We’re saving that for the ceremony tomorrow night. Armand is going to make me immortal like him.”
“Oh, no,” Claire muttered. “Julia, this isn’t real. These people aren’t really vampires. You know there’s no such thing. I want you to come home with me right now.” Claire’s voice shook. “Please.”
Julia barely acknowledged Claire’s words as she continued to gaze into Armand’s eyes. “Go home, Claire. Go back to your job at the lab and all the important work you do and leave me alone. You could never understand.”
Rafe didn’t know what Julia was like normally, but she was on something. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her skin pale and noticeably clammy. And she was sniffing every few seconds.
Was Armand drugging her to keep her delusional? Or was Julia taking something of her own free will?
What did it matter? There wasn’t a thing he could do about any of it. Even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t. He’d done his part and found the stupid bimbo. Now Claire would go home, and he’d get his life back.
“I’m not leaving you.” Claire stepped forward and tried to take Julia’s arm.
Armand wrenched Julia away and hissed—he actually bared his artificial fangs and hissed—at Claire.
She reared back, but Rafe was between them before he’d even realized he’d moved, his hand wrapped around Armand’s throat, cutting off his air. “Give me a reason.”
Armand choked, prying at Rafe’s fingers, trying to pull them away.
A soft hand touched his arm. “It’s okay, Rafe.”
Tightening his grip in warning, he released the jerk. “Let’s go, Claire.” He took her arm.
He expected her to argue, to cry or threaten him. But her features flattened. “Get your coat back.” She retreated to the door and snapped on the flashlight.
Her cold acceptance bothered him more than her earlier emotional pleas.
Still pressed against Armand’s chest, Julia wiggled out of his jacket and extended it to him on the end of her fingers.
Rafe took it and strode over to where Claire was waiting at the door. “Ready?”
At her nod, he took the flashlight, and stepped out into the dark hallway.
* * *
CLAIRE STARED OUT THE window of Rafe’s car. Her eyes stung and a tight knot of emotion was lodged in her throat. How long had Julia resented her? Had she truly been such a horrible friend? Had Julia felt abandoned when she’d gone off to college?
But the worst part of all of it was that she’d been so clueless. Now that she thought about it, the signs were there. Julia had always been boy crazy. Anytime some guy gave her the least bit of attention, she’d jump into a relationship and cling to the man as if she would drown without him.
Julia had been an easy mark for someone like Armand. He’d taken advantage of her feelings of insecurity, tempted her with some illegal substance and convinced her that her family and friends didn’t care about her.
But she and Julia had faced too much adversity together, been there for each other when it really counted for something like this to destroy their lifelong friendship. Claire couldn’t abandon her now.
The way she’d looked tonight, unkempt and sickly, really worried Claire. If Julia actually drank that freak’s blood who knew what diseases she might contract? Even without the ceremony being imminent, the sooner she got Julia away, the better.
But she couldn’t involve Rafe any further. Who knew how dangerous those creeps would get if they were threatened or thwarted? Or how far Rafe might go if the situation escalated? He’d almost choked Armand back there.
In that moment, Claire had lost a piece of her heart to him. Surely no rational woman could experience those kinds of heroics and not fall a little in love. Which would’ve worried her more, except she’d read somewhere that going through a highly emotional experience with someone produced false feelings of closeness—even love. But she did owe him a lot.
Claire glanced at him for the first time since leaving the asylum. His jaw was set and his eyes were narrow slits. She longed to reach over and cup his tight jaw in her palm. To run her fingers through his silky black hair. Even lean in and press her lips to the corner of his oh-so-expressive mouth.
“Thank you for...everything.”
Rafe shrugged, nodded.
Hey, that was progress. He’d actually let her thank him.
He stomped on the clutch and jerked the gearshift, downshifting to exit the freeway. He was taking her back to his place. But she should get her things and go to a hotel tonight.
Shadow had more than likely—as she’d suspected—taken Julia’s room key to get in and steal her things, so she should be safe in a different hotel tonight. There really was no reason to ever see Rafe again.
She resisted pressing a pa
lm to the ache in her chest. Drew a deep breath and held it, shoving the depression back down, bricking it in behind a wall of common sense. This was merely that emotion derived from mutually experienced danger.
Rafe glanced at her as he came to an intersection somewhere in the French Quarter. “You okay?”
She nodded and let out a long breath. “I’m fine.” Then she closed her eyes to avoid any further discussion.
When she opened them he was turning into the parking lot behind Once Bitten. Rafe glanced at her with a wary look as he parked the car and turned off the engine.
She managed a weak smile. “I’ll be okay.”
With an accepting shrug, he jumped out and headed for the stairs. Claire sighed, climbed out at a much slower pace and trudged up behind him.
Once inside Rafe’s apartment, she stood awkwardly at the door. She should call a cab to take her to a hotel.
Rafe stood at the table, his laptop open, typing in—she assumed—his password. “You can use this to check for flights home. I’m going to relieve Ro at the bar.” He headed for the joining staircase, but stopped and faced her. “Shadow is still out there. Feel free to sleep here. I’ll be working the rest of the night, anyway.”
Before Claire could think what to say, he was headed downstairs, the door closed behind him.
She blinked. Looked around the room. The reality of her situation began to penetrate. He expected her to return to Boston. And why shouldn’t he? He’d found Julia.
She wasn’t returning to Boston, of course.
With that thought, she concentrated on the problem of Julia and the cult. She needed to formulate a plan. And she needed to make a list. Yes. She grabbed her purse and dug around for her little notebook with the pen attached.
Making lists always made the overwhelming seem possible. Put things in black and white so she could find a logical solution. So, how to convince Julia to leave that awful cult?
She tapped her pen on the table. Tapped some more...
Maybe begin with the practical things to be done.
Call hotel—arrange for belongings to be packed and left at the concierge’s desk.
Call Sergeant Mulroney—suggest someone to hire.
A cult specialist? Is there such a thing?
If she wanted to stop Julia from drinking that jerk’s blood, he only had until tomorrow to find a solution. Better start by calling the sergeant. Even at this late hour, he picked up on the first ring and she filled him in on their success in finding Julia. As expected, Mulroney told her there was nothing to be done since Julia was an adult and was staying of her own free will.
However, he recommended a security firm that might be able to help. It was run by a group of ex-military personnel who provided tactical rescue of kidnap victims.
Before she hung up, she made sure he knew Rafe and Once Bitten had nothing to do with Julia’s disappearance or the cult. That seemed the least she could do for the man who had put his life at risk for her. More than once.
What would it be like to have that kind of man in one’s life all the time?
Stick to the matter at hand, Claire.
Trying not to get her hopes up, she called the twenty-four-hour hotline for the security firm and explained her situation. Although nothing about forcibly removing Julia was specifically mentioned, Claire was given the impression that extraction was a service they might provide. Unfortunately they were based in L.A. and the soonest they could help in a non-life-threatening situation was three weeks.
Claire had twenty hours. If that.
She closed her phone and laid it on the table. She’d just have to rescue Julia herself. If she could get her away from Armand’s influence maybe she could talk some sense into her. But she’d need to go during the day and hope Armand was asleep. If Julia was too delusional to listen to reason, then she’d have to try forcing her out to the cab.
Claire took off her glasses and pinched her nose. There was no one to help her now. She was alone.
Back in Boston, she was accustomed to being alone. And at twenty-nine, with no one special in her life, she’d pretty much accepted that she might be alone the rest of her life. But that was before Rafe had shown her what she was capable of.
Could she go on with her life never feeling his touch, or hearing his soft Southern drawl ever again? She’d have to.
Her future loomed before her. Lonely. Empty. Filled with what-ifs. Straightening her spine, she grabbed her glasses from the table. Self-pity wouldn’t save Julia.
After a long hot shower, she wrapped a towel around her and padded out to her overnight bag. The room was mostly dark, the only light coming from the weak bulb in the bathroom. Street noise outside had quieted.
She retrieved her still-folded PJs and recalled why she hadn’t worn them the night before. Memories of the things Rafe had done to her, with her, sent a shockwave of desire pulsing between her thighs. The feel of his hands on her body. His mouth. She shivered, dropped the towel and clasped her breasts, rubbing her thumbs over the tightening nipples. As she slid her hand down between her thighs, a shadow in the corner moved.
She gasped and covered herself with her arms.
A man sat in a chair at the table. She could feel his gaze on her like a buzz of electrical current. Her heart thumped in her chest and she couldn’t catch her breath. “Rafe?”
10
RAFE HADN’T MEANT TO come up here. He should be pouring drinks at the bar. Or working on payroll.
But Claire was leaving. And he wanted one more taste of her. It was as simple—and as messed up—as that. And, oh, when she’d dropped that towel.
“Come over here, cher.”
She hesitated, and then took a few steps toward him until she was a couple feet away. She was trembling, and so close he could feel her heat and smell her clean linen and honey scent. Impossibly, his body hardened even more.
“Don’t cover yourself, not from me.”
She blinked and didn’t move. Would she refuse him? Then she let her arms drop to her sides.
He groaned. Her breasts were full and ripe, the nipples so tight and pointed, as if they were begging to be touched.
“Now take the towel from your hair.”
He watched her chest rise as she drew in a shaky breath, lifted her arms to pull the towel away and then dropped it on the floor. Her hair spilled down around her shoulders in dark, curling mutiny.
He’d never been so hard in his life. He licked his lips. “Claire.” He leaned forward to grip her waist and bring her between his thighs.
He took it as a good sign when she moaned and held on to his shoulders, so he slid his hands up and cupped the sides of her breasts. Her skin beneath his fingers. So soft. He lowered his forehead to her sternum and swallowed back need. Need for her. Her body. Her presence. In his bed. In his lonely apartment. He felt her shiver, and slid his thumbs across her nipples. Heard her quick intake of breath as they tightened to hard peaks.
His blood racing, he licked one, then rolled the other between thumb and fingers.
Her nails dug into his scalp as she cried out. Smiling, he sucked harder and swirled his tongue around the bud.
But he needed more, wanted to be inside her, with her. He tugged her closer and moved his mouth down to her belly, gently scraping with his teeth. Desperately, he helped her up to straddle his lap, unbuttoning his constricting jeans as fast as his trembling hands would let him.
While he freed his aching cock, she yanked his shirt off over his head and kissed along his jaw to his throat. Her hands roamed down his back, around his waist and up over his chest, tracing his tattoo with her fingers, thumbing his sensitive nipples.
He returned her kisses eagerly with a thrusting tongue. His hands fumbled with the protection, then he positioned his cock at her entrance. Breaking the kiss, he caught her gaze and grasped her hips to press her down over him.
He shuddered as she sank onto him and he held her still so he didn’t embarrass himself before they’d even moved.
He was buried deep inside her and she was hot and tight around him.
Pressing his nose to her throat, he swallowed and gritted his teeth against unwanted emotions. But he couldn’t shake the goofy notion that this was where he belonged. He’d never belonged anywhere before, but he did here, with her. Surrounded by her. This woman who’d needed him. Who thought he was one of the good guys.
Who wouldn’t need him anymore after tonight.
He had to move. Pushed up with his hips. Her long legs reached the floor and she used her leverage to rise and sink back down, again and again. He groaned and held fast to her hips as she moved over him. She made love with him like she pursued her friend: with relentless determination.
Her breasts bounced and he let go of her waist and captured the white globes in his hands, reveling in the full, firm flesh.
His orgasm hit him like a shock wave. He’d wanted to wait for her to come, his whole body was quickly clenched in pure pleasure. Then he felt her passage grip his cock and squeeze and she stilled and arched away from him, a low keening cry rumbling in her throat.
He’d never seen or heard anything so sexy in his life. He thrust up with his hips, pulled out and pushed back in, finding his release in her, finishing with a long groan of pleasure.
When he could breathe again, he opened his eyes. His cheek lay on her breasts and her fingers ran lazily over his shoulder, down his back. He had to force his arms to relax from around her back and tried to sit up. Her arms tightened around him and she hummed her disapproval.
“Don’t worry, cher. I’m not going anywhere.” He gripped her butt and stood. Her long legs wrapped around him as he carried her to the bed and tumbled down with her onto the mattress.
His weight on his elbows and knees, he cupped her face and softly kissed her lips, her forehead, nose and eyes. After a few moments of lying with her, he somehow found the strength to untangle himself, shucking his jeans and underwear before crawling back in bed beside her.
Relentless Seduction Page 9