by Jessica Lee
Arran walked away from his cover and onto the dance floor. He sliced through the mass of gyrating bodies, heading toward Markus’s table. At the crowd’s center, directly in front of the vampire and his puppet, he stopped. Well over six feet tall, Arran’s height gave him the advantage of seeing over most of the dancers, and his unmoving body made for an easy target.
It didn’t take long. Within minutes, Markus’s dark glare landed on Arran and froze. Yeah, it’s me, you son of a bitch.
Once made, Arran rocketed across the dance floor. His short burst of speed insured Markus would follow his path. After his third maneuver through the crowd, Arran had made it to the hallway’s entrance that led to the back of the restaurant. He didn’t look up, but he knew Guerin was there. High in the club’s open rafters, the Enclave’s second in command waited in his assigned position with the dose of ketamine that would take down Marguerite’s sex toy.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my long-lost partner.” Markus’s deep voice rolled down Arran’s spine in a sinister wave, making his gut twist. Slowly, he shook his head in disbelief. Even the tone of his voice had changed. Darkened. Before all this, Arran would never have believed his former partner capable of such depravity, that he would ever become a willing partner in Marguerite’s plan to dominate humanity, which meant taking down the very team to whom he’d once sworn his allegiance.
Arran rotated on his heels and faced the vampire who’d betrayed them. Markus looked like the harbinger of death, dressed all in black with chains crisscrossing his chest. He flashed Arran a lazy smile, one that easily conveyed where he believed he stood in this war. Markus thought he’d already won.
Less than a second later, four minion vampires swooped in. Two behind Markus, one on either side of Arran.
Party time.
A hiss of air blew past Arran’s left ear. Markus jerked and flung his hand up to his neck. Jackpot. His mouth gaped, and he stumbled back. The aluminum ketamine dart, protruding from his neck, winked in the club’s strobes. The two minions behind Markus grabbed their master as his knees crumpled. A shrill cry rent the darkened club. Alexandria was on her feet, screaming at the top of her lungs. The other two minions closed in and seized Arran.
Kenric appeared in the center of the club. In a loud, booming voice, he sent out a command that had the humans scurrying for the doors. The remaining vampires receded into the shadows. Kenric’s presence was an ominous force.
Guerin dropped from the ceiling in front of Arran, and with a one-two punch and a boot to the vampire’s midsection, he eliminated the minion at Arran’s left arm. Arran swung his right arm back, elbowing the other in his gut and doubling him over. Another strike to the back of his neck took him the rest of the way down and out of commission.
Logan appeared, and as one, all three warriors turned toward the remaining vampires who were attempting to revive their master. Both straightened from Markus’s side and stepped back, looking like they’d stared into the pits of hell. They weren’t far from the truth. Sliding his dagger free, Arran palmed the hilt. He was about to send them there.
A blur of movement came from Arran’s right. Alexandria dropped to her knees beside Markus. Taking advantage of the disruption, the minions phased out of the club. Cowards. Tears streamed down Alexandria’s cheeks as she moaned and rocked over Markus’s unconscious form. Her mind had to be in chaos without his constant intervention.
Arran studied her. Alexandria was a striking woman, but so very different in coloring and size from Gabrielle. She had darker hair than her sister, and while both were probably about the same height, Alexandria’s build was petite in comparison. She was attractive, but Gabrielle was so much more to him than her beauty—and she was beautiful. Her spirit stirred his mind and his body.
Kenric moved in and hovered over Alexandria’s bent form. The master of the Enclave pulled the syringe from his jeans pocket. He squatted next to her, reached out, and brushed her shoulder with his fingers. Alexandria shrieked and flailed her arms as if his touch burned her flesh. Arran grabbed her from behind. She growled and kicked like a wild animal, totally disoriented. Thank God Gabrielle had agreed to stay outside in the vehicle along with Emily and wasn’t a witness to the current state of her sister’s mind. Intervening, Logan held one of her arms while Kenric inserted the needle and pushed the contents of the syringe into her vein. A half second later, her body went limp.
“The cages are in the basement,” Arran said, lifting his chin to Kenric. “I’ve got Alexandria, if you two”—Arran tapped Logan first with his gaze, then Guerin—“grab Markus.” Each warrior nodded and went to work. Arran guided them toward the stairs leading to the basement he and Gabrielle had visited the previous night. It was an easy trip. All it took was one glare from the Enclave’s Master and none of the remaining workers dared to stand in their way.
Alexandria’s head rested against Arran’s chest. He cradled her in his arms as they descended the stairs. Her breathing was steady, nice and easy and she didn’t appear to be in any distress from her dose of ketamine. It was a stroke of luck Kenric had packed the potent sedative with the other gear for their trip to Fairfield. Kenric had informed Arran that he’d learned of its use two years ago after Emily had been dosed with the drug when Markus had kidnapped her from the Enclave’s headquarters. Once she’d returned home, Emily, having been a nurse, had had one of her close friends discreetly send her blood out to a private laboratory for a her-eyes-only drug screening to learn what had been used to sedate her. Ketamine had showed up in her sample.
With a tilt of his head, he directed Kenric’s attention to the door at the end of the dark hallway. “That’s the former master of this colony’s office,” he said. “His name is Jean-Claude. I’m sure he’s going to enjoy meeting you.” Arran grinned.
The rest of the warriors waited outside the office while Kenric went inside and made nice with the former master. About ten minutes later, Kenric emerged with a smug grin and a set of keys dangling from his hand. “The club, and the cages, are at our disposal.”
“What, no bloodshed?” Guerin smirked.
Kenric stopped between them, tossed the keys in the air, and captured them again in his palm. He aimed his gaze at Guerin. “Disappointed?”
“Damn!” Guerin cracked his knuckles. “And I was just getting warmed up.” He bent over and grunted as he and Logan picked up the dead weight of Markus’s body.
Down the opposite end of the hall, three silver cages lined one side of the wall. Using the keys Jean-Claude had been kind enough to hand over, Kenric opened two of the cages. Arran laid Alexandria in one, while the other warriors placed Markus inside the cage next to hers and secured the doors.
The four warriors stepped back and assessed their prisoners. Arran glanced over at the profiles of the others. “The trap’s been set. Now, we wait,” he announced.
“We wait,” Kenric reiterated. “Two years of feasting on ancient blood is a serious addiction. I know. If Marguerite doesn’t come for him first, it won’t take long before he’s begging for her through their blood link.” Kenric slid the keys into his pocket, then glanced from one warrior to the next. “And I have no doubt she will come. She won’t tolerate anyone taking what she claims is hers, especially when it involves me. The two minions who escaped will ensure she knows it’s me and the Enclave.” Kenric nodded and rocked on his heels. “Hell, yeah, she’ll come.”
Arran climbed the stairs and headed back outside. Gabrielle was probably going crazy by now, wondering what had happened.
He spotted her right where he’d left her in the SUV. She jumped out of the vehicle and rushed into his arms. “Oh, thank God.” She squeezed him tight. Arran’s heart swelled, and his pulse rapid-fired inside his head. Damn. He’d live through the battle again and again if he got to hold her like this each time. Sooner than he liked, she dropped her arms and moved back. “My sister, is she…”
“She’s okay.”
Her eyes shuttered with relief.
> “Kenric sedated her then secured her next to Markus.”
“I can’t stand the thought of her caged like an animal.” She clutched her abdomen as if she felt sick.
“I know. It’s not pleasant for any of us.” He brushed her arms with his palms. “But believe me, kitten. For right now, with Markus in control of her mind, she can’t be anywhere else. Her mind wouldn’t tolerate it.”
“I need to see her.” Gabrielle pinned him with a stare that said she wouldn’t budge on this demand.
“Come on. I’ll take you to her.”
Inside the basement, he stood back and watched as she approached the cage containing her sister’s unconscious body. She crouched in front of the locked door. From across the room, he could hear the soft whisper of her sister’s name as it left Gabrielle’s lips. And his heart nearly burst through his chest when she choked back a sob. Fuck. He would make Markus pay.
A moment later, Logan approached Gabrielle’s side. Arran ground his molars.
“We’re going to make sure she’s safe,” Logan said. “The club’s locked down, and two of us will be here at all times.”
It was all Arran could do not to ram his boot in the male’s gut. She didn’t need Logan’s comfort or his assurances. His right hand curled into a fist, and Arran blew out a frustrated breath. He was coming unglued about this woman. This situation needed to be resolved soon, because he had to put some distance between him and Gabrielle or lose his mind. She was never going to be his, and the sooner he started realizing that, the better. It didn’t matter that every cell in his body cried out for her. Demanded that he claim her. But she could never be his mate. For one, she wasn’t a vampire, and he would never subject her to that. Never take her human life away. And two, he would not bind her to a male like himself. She deserved someone special, someone who didn’t carry enough baggage to bring down a jumbo jet.
Inside his head, he knew this, and it made perfect logical sense. Now, if he could only force his body to comply with his mind’s wishes and leave her alone. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Let her go. The sweet scent of honeysuckle flooded his nostrils and electrified his senses in a storm of awareness. Arran swallowed a moan and opened his eyes. Gabrielle stood before him. Fatigue and pain cast a shadow over her features and jerked him into action. He needed to get her out of there, if only for a little while. She was human, and he bet if he asked her, Gabrielle wouldn’t be able to tell him the last time she’d slept.
“I’m getting you out of here,” he whispered. The rest of the Enclave would be fine without him for a few hours. Marguerite would need time to calculate her next move, and no way in hell would Markus call for her anytime soon.
“What?” She shook her head. “No. I need to be here in case she wakes up.”
“I’m not taking no for an answer.” He narrowed his gaze on her. “You want to be here for her? Then you have to take care of yourself first. You’re exhausted and need some downtime to regroup.”
“But—”
“They’ll call us if she starts coming around, and I’ll bring you back.” Her lips parted, readying for another round of argument. “I promise,” he added, cupping the side of her face, and it was as if the wind knocked out of her sails. She nodded. Victory.
“Kenric,” Arran called out. He paused from helping Emily stow some of the Enclave’s gear and turned his way. “I’m taking Gabrielle home.”
“That’s fine,” he said. “Logan and Guerin are taking first watch. But we’ll all be staying here for now.”
Placing his hand to the small of her back, they moved to leave the room, but he didn’t miss the look Logan fired his way. The one that said, Touch her, and I’ll kill you. And Arran hoped Logan didn’t miss the one he fired back that said, Kiss my ass.
Outside and a block over, he handed Gabrielle his helmet for the Ninja. She’d ridden with Kenric, Emily, and the other warriors to the club, but he’d taken his bike. Gabrielle slung her long leg over and settled behind him. She started to put on her helmet but stopped and lowered it onto her lap. “Please, don’t take me to the condo.”
Arran gripped the handlebar of his bike with one hand, preparing to mount, but stopped and lifted a brow. “Where would you rather go?” With his other, he ran the tips of his fingers through her hair. He loved the feel of the stuff. The way it slid along his skin like silk, and the way the light reflected off the strands.
She tilted her head and brushed him with her gaze. “Wherever it is you go when you’re not with me.” Arran’s hand stalled, and his gaze snapped back to hers. “Take me someplace where I can get the image of my sister in that cage out of my head. If I go home, that’s all I’ll see. Everything at her condo reminds me of the human sister I’ve lost.” Gabrielle lowered her head, toying with the strap on the helmet, and when she lifted her gaze back to him, what he saw in her eyes staggered him. “When I’m alone with you, I feel good…happy.” She needed him. Not sexually, even though their attraction to each other burned at a constant low simmer, but for the first time, someone actually just wanted to be with him.
He closed the distance between them, reached out, and held her head in his palms. “I’ve got you, kitten. You say the word, whatever you need, wherever you need to go, and I’ll do my damnedest to make it happen.” Her eyes glistened with moisture. He’d witnessed her in tears twice tonight, and he swore he’d do whatever it took to keep that from ever happening again.
Chapter Twelve
The ride on the rear of bike had been exactly what Elle needed. Her body pressed into Arran’s firm back, the feel of the wind on her skin, and the exhilarating rush of speed on two wheels as the world blurred past. She flattened her palms against his abdomen and smoothed her hands along the ripples of his muscles. He felt so amazing in her arms, strong, solid. When she was with him, he made her believe anything was possible.
He turned off the highway and onto a dirt road. Dust rolled like enormous clouds around them as they roared past open fields of tobacco. She clamped her mouth tight against the vibrations coming off the washboard ridges in the road. The bike dipped, then bounced back out of a large hole, knocking her sideways on the seat. Her hand slipped from his waist, but she found the next best thing lower to grab and hang on to. His thigh. Arran’s hand snapped to her wrist, making sure she couldn’t let go. Elle repositioned, and the dirt road smoothed out, allowing him to release her wrist.
Enjoying the feel of the broad muscle contained within the leg of his jeans, Elle dropped her other hand. She grinned to herself. This was wicked, and she knew it. He was the one always in control. But she couldn’t help but take advantage of the fact that he was driving and couldn’t do a damn thing about her small exploration.
Elle slid her palms along his thighs and dipped between them. The bike jerked, but quickly recovered. If the hard evidence contained under his jeans was any indication, though, he was quite happy with her world tour. He leaned to his left for a turn, and she flung her hands back to his waist, holding on.
A small, dark cabin loomed ahead. Pecan trees formed a canopy over the front porch but left the rear of the house open to the moonlight, which glowed off the metal roof. Beautiful. Isolated. Perfect.
He rolled the bike right up to the front steps and killed the engine. Before she had a chance to move, he was off the bike. Tossing his helmet to the ground, he grabbed her around the waist, yanked her off the seat, and into his arms. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. The feral look in his eyes had her pulse thumping out of control and filling her throat.
His hands roamed up her sides, then followed the curve of her arms up to her neck. The rough feel of his fingers against her skin sent a shiver down her spine. Her nipples hardened and ached beneath her bra, begging to be touched. By him. Moisture pooled within her panties, and arousal swelled the folds between her legs. God, she wanted him.
Arran’s nostrils flared, and his mouth parted on a slow exhale. She knew he’d caught the scent of her need, and his reactio
n only ramped up her desire. His grip tightened at her nape. A low growl rolled from his throat. He leaned in. Her stomach fluttered. Slowly he dipped his head, bringing his lips and nose a mere inch from her cleavage. A soft breeze of air tickled her breasts with his inhale. He moved from her chest, lifting his head until he reached her ear.
“You smell so damn good.” The rusty and dark edge of his voice detonated along her nerve endings. Her knees liquefied, and her butt bumped the seat of the bike. Arran lowered his arms to her waist, jerking her back to her feet and into his body. His erection dug into the juncture between her thighs.
Elle couldn’t stop the whimper tumbling from her. The soft caress of his lips trailed across her cheek and then drifted above her mouth. She closed her eyes. His breath smelled sweet, enticing. Like mulled spices on Christmas Eve. Her tongue curled behind her teeth, craving his taste. “God, woman, you’re killing me,” he growled against her lips, right before he claimed them.
Hard.
Desperate.
He kissed her as if she was his last taste of life.
Elle had never felt so cherished, so wanted. How in the world a simple kiss could relay such feeling, she’d never know. But kissing him was anything but simple. It was profound. And somehow, she knew when this night was over, her very soul would never be the same.
Arran’s hand dipped from her waist and swooped down under her knees. She was in his arms, holding him. Tasting him. He moved on her lips and inside her mouth precisely how she imagined he made love. Fluid. Thorough. Like a dancer on her body who knew exactly what pleased her.
Her feet touched the floor, and she opened her eyes. They were inside. Arran’s mouth left hers, and she sucked in a hungry breath. Her head spun, partly from the rapid beat of her heart and from the speed at which he’d carried her into the cabin. He kissed her cheeks, her hair, and then his head dropped to her neck. His tongue was hot on her skin as he licked at her pulse.