Drake the Defender

by Rhiannon Neeley

  “And that would be?”

  “The stakes. The chopping the head off. The burning.” Harry looked her directly in the eye. “It’s how you kill a vampire.”

  Grace blinked. Did she hear him right? A vampire? “Don’t be getting all weird on me, Harry,” she warned. This was the second time today that the word ‘vampire’ had come up.

  “It was just a thought. Maybe somebody’s doing some play-acting. I’ve heard of it happening before. Kids get involved in those games and they start to believe it’s real.”

  Harry had a point. It was something to consider. “Well, just as long as you don’t start believing it.”

  “Like that’ll happen.” Harry waved her off and went back to speak to Junior Talbee, their other Deputy-acting-technician.

  Grace headed for the first crime scene. This was turning into one very long day.

  * * * *

  Drake heard the door open. He turned to find the maroon-haired Dot staring at him through the bars of his cell.

  “You wanna make your phone call?” she asked.

  Drake swung his feet to the floor and approached the bars. “I’d appreciate it.”

  “Turn around, hands through the bars.”

  Drake did as he was told. Dot cuffed him then opened the cell door. “Come on then,” she said. “I’ll warn you though—I’d just as soon shoot you as look at you so don’t be trying nothing.”

  Drake took the warning to heart. From the look on her face, he could tell that this woman would shoot first and ask questions later. Barney Fife, she was not. She led him into a room that had a table and chairs and a phone. “If you’re calling long distance, make it collect. We don’t pay for no prisoner’s phone calls.

  Drake nodded and dialed the operator. Then he gave her the main number of the Unkindness. “Make it collect,” he said.

  * * * *

  Grace couldn’t believe she was trudging back up this mountain again. Her hair was wet and plastered to her head, thanks to the raindrops falling from the trees overhead and her boots—the ones she should have thought twice about wearing today—were a muddy mess. She was tired, hungry and still couldn’t get Drake Raven’s face out of her head. Just thinking of him got her hot, which was both pleasant and troubling at the same time. Why she had suddenly developed a craving for danger—not to mention her dream the other night of being submissive to his control—she had no clue. Unless it was because she was just plain fed up with telling everyone what to do. She was stressed out. About her job … which she didn’t want to lose because it would shame her in her father’s eyes. Stressed about fighting with Rogue all the time, which had become every day’s main event. And she needed a good romp in the hay, which hadn’t happened for ages.

  With a sigh, Grace slogged through the tall grass, her flashlight barely illuminating what was in front of her thanks to the thick mist that rose from the ground. She didn’t see the man blocking her way between two trees until she was almost on top of him.

  “What the—.” Grace started to fall.

  Strong hands caught her. “Careful,” he said, holding her while she regained her footing.

  Grace’s hand automatically went to the gun at her hip. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” she asked, shining her flashlight directly into his face.

  You will not fear me.

  Grace shook her head. “What?” She studied his face, the strange voice echoing in her mind. He was very handsome in an odd sort of way. He had long dark hair, streaked with silver and the most arresting eyes. His eyes were golden yellow. The eyes of a wolf. Grace bit her lip as her gaze traveled to his mouth. His lips were full, his chin strong with a slight stubble.

  “Are you alright?” he asked. His voice was a caress.

  “Yes.” Grace couldn’t take her eyes from his face. There was something about him. Something … wild. “Who are you?” she asked.

  You will not fear me, the voice whispered in her mind again.

  “I am Anthony Barack.” He moved to her, taking her hand from the gun and placing it on his chest. “I’ve been looking for you, Grace.”

  The mist rose higher around them, almost waist high now. Grace felt as if she were being drugged, almost dreamy. She frowned, struggling to shake the feeling. “You’re—you’re an officer,” she said, noticing the uniform he wore. But something was wrong. The uniform didn’t fit as it should. She dropped her flashlight, her fingers going numb. The flashlight landed on the ground, its beam causing the mist to become an eerie glow.

  “You have come to me,” he said, sliding his hands around her waist, “and I will be here for you. Always, Grace.”

  She felt faint. Blood pounded through her. Her head throbbed.

  “Tell me what you want, Grace,” he said, crooning in her ear. “I’ll be anything you desire. Give yourself to me. That is all I ask.”

  His body pressed against her, his hands holding her close. Grace sighed. Grace tilted her head back. His touch, this place, was all so surreal.

  You are mine. The voice in her head again. Mine.

  * * * *

  Barack could feel her resolve crumbling beneath his touch. While he molded her body to his, he delved deep into her mind, seeking her most latent desire.

  It didn’t take him long. Her mind, though quick and intelligent, was vulnerable. She was under stress, too many problems vying for an answer and that made it easy for Barack to ferret out what would please her. Barack smiled when he realized that what she coveted was also what she most wanted to keep secret.

  Her yearning to be under a man’s control.

  Barack stiffened his hold on her, one hand grasping a handful of her thick blond hair at the nape of her neck. She sucked in her breath.

  Barack bared his fangs and drew his uppers slowly over the skin at her jugular, not hard enough to puncture, but enough to leave two scratched trails.

  She quivered in his arms.

  “Hold it right there,” a voice rang out.

  Barack whirled at the sound.

  A man stood not six feet away, holding a gun pointed directly at him.

  Grace began to squirm. “H-harry.”

  It was no use now. The man—wearing a police uniform much like the one Barack wore—had snapped her back to consciousness. In one swift movement, Barack sunk his fangs into her neck and allowed himself one precious swallow of Grace’s heady blood. She screamed, the sound reverberating off the trees. An instant later, Barack had closed the wound and lowered her to the ground.

  A shot rang out.

  Barack spun, but he wasn’t fast enough. The bullet caught him in the left arm.

  Rage filled him. He wanted to destroy the human. Searing pain enveloped his arm, a sensation that he hadn’t felt in ages. Confused by this sudden ability to feel the result of the bullet, Barack ducked between the trees, and out of harm’s way.

  Until he could puzzle this out, he opted for caution. It would do him no good to win Grace, then be injured in some way that was purely new to him. He needed to lie low and recuperate. He needed to figure this out. Bullets should not cause him this much pain. Not he, a vampire.

  Within three steps, he shifted back into his wolf form, the clothes shredding off his body. With a loping gait, Barack took advantage of the mist and disappeared into the night.

  * * * *

  Drake sat in the cell, bored out of his mind. As soon as he had finished his phone call to John at the Unkindness—which was not a pleasant conversation by any means—the woman with the weird hair had locked him right back up.

  Now, all he had to do was wait for his lawyer to show up to get him out of this mess. Colin Moore wasn’t “his” lawyer but he handled any legal problems that arose for the Unkindness. Colin knew exactly what they did for a living and never commented about it. But Drake was pretty sure this was the first time any one of them had been put behind bars for murder.

  Colin wouldn’t be happy either, when John told him.

  * * * *

 
Grace let Harry take her back to the station, giving him strict orders to go back up to Salt Lick and check on Arnie as soon as he dropped her off. Then he was to search for the man in the woods. The strange man.

  Grace had immediately searched the black sedan as soon as she got there. Nothing. Absolutely nothing that implicated Drake Raven.

  But she still had a few questions she wanted answered but she was going to be forced to turn him loose. Questions about what the hell the deal was with the fangs and did he know who this other vampire-like creature was, who had accosted her up on the mountain .

  She pushed through the front door of the station, her emotions in shambles. Everything was going wrong. Nothing was getting solved. Bodies were turning up in the strangest conditions. Weird people were running around on the mountain. And to beat it all, her sexual frustration and secret passions were getting in the way.

  “I let the prisoner make his call,” Dot said from behind her desk.

  Grace stopped short. She pointed her finger at Dot. “Call over to Blanchard County. Tell them I need two deputies. Now. Then … you get on home.”

  “I can stay…”

  “No!” Grace grit her teeth. In a calmer tone, she continued. “You go home and get some rest. I’m going to need you here in the morning and I need you fresh as a daisy.”

  Dot nodded. “Alright.” She started dialing the phone.

  Grace sighed. “Dot, I’m sorry for snapping at you but this is just…” She couldn’t even think of a word to explain the situation.

  “I know.” Dot smiled, then went back to her job.

  Grace grabbed the keys to the holding cell. She stopped in her office and dropped her gun in the desk drawer, locking it. Then she continued on to the cell. She heard Dot leaving, letting the front door slam in her wake.

  Grace entered the room under a full head of steam. The door banged against the wall when she pushed through. “Drake, get your ass up!” Grace went directly to the cell door. Drake was on his feet, a look of wariness on his face. Graced rammed the key into the lock.

  “What’s wrong?” Drake asked, approaching the door.

  Grace turned the key and swung the door wide.

  She burst into the cell, grabbing two fistfuls of Drake’s T-shirt, shoving him back. “I want you to tell me just what the hell is going on here?” she said.

  “Wait. Grace.” Drake caught her wrists. “What’re you talking about?”

  Grace struggled against his hold. His grip held her like a vise. “The bodies. Bodies made of ash. Decapitated skeletons.” He pulled her closer. She could feel the heat of his body. “You know something and I want to know what it is.” Grace looked up into his whiskey-toned eyes. Her heart hammered against her breast. “I want…”

  “What,” he said, tucking her arms behind her back.

  “I…”

  His mouth captured hers, stealing her breath. She tried to turn her head. Drake locked her wrists in one hand, the other coming up to cup her chin while his tongue invaded her mouth.

  Grace felt her insides turn to jelly as he took control of her like no other. He wedged one leg between hers, spreading her feet apart.

  Drake nipped her bottom lip, his teeth sharp. “You know I had nothing to do with any murder,” he said, his voice rough.

  Grace’s body was on fire. Her breath came in short bursts. His eyes searched hers for a moment. Then he smiled. “I think you need some stress management Sheriff.” He began to unbutton her shirt. “Then we’ll solve this little problem of the bodies together.” He released her wrists and slid her shirt from her shoulders, catching her bra strap in the process. As her shirt and bra came down her arms, her wrists were trapped again, only this time, her breasts were bared to his hungry gaze.

  “What do you say, Babe? Shall I give you a little relief?”

  Grace trembled, needing his touch, knowing she shouldn’t do this. The danger of it, of them getting caught, only served to increase her arousal. Grace couldn’t fight the urgency. She had to have him.

  And at the moment—they were alone in the jail.

  * * * *

  Drake waited, gauging Grace’s reaction to his roughness. He had had rough sex before, thoroughly enjoyed it at times, but never like this. Never with a police officer in a jail cell. Never truly taking the upper hand completely.

  Never with someone who had somehow already touched his heart.

  Just looking at her now, her eyes smoky-blue with lust, her lips kiss-swollen and full, made him strain to hold himself in check. He didn’t want to hurt her. Didn’t want to scare her or force her into anything she didn’t want to do, but she’d better let him know quickly because the vision standing before him, arms locked behind her back by her shirt sleeves, her full breasts exposed, had him harder than cement.

  For the first time, Drake probed Grace’s mind, searching for the answer he needed. He caught her thoughts almost instantly.

  What she wanted, down deep inside her mind, shot fire through his veins.

  And Drake would make sure she got exactly what she yearned for.

  “Is there anyone else here, Grace?” he asked, backing her toward the table that had two chairs attached to it. The prisoner’s table. “Grace, answer me.”

  “No. No one,” she said, shaking her head. She bumped her bottom against the table.

  Drake released her arms and caught her luscious mouth in a kiss. He grabbed her by the waist, bending her backward over the tabletop. Her arms were still held by her shirt sleeves. Drake caught her bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth, nipping. She moaned.

  Drake almost couldn’t wait. She tasted so good, and smelled of the outdoors and her obvious arousal. He couldn’t wait to taste more of her. “Get rid of those clothes,” he said, backing away to give her room to move.

  He watched while she stripped, her cheeks blushing prettily. She had come into the cell like a tiger … now she was a kitten. When she finished undressing, she crossed her arms over herself, suddenly shy,

  Drake smiled and took her hands, pulling her arms away. “No, no, no. Mustn’t cover yourself my sweet thing,” he said, holding her arms out at shoulder height. “I want to look at you.”

  * * * *

  Grace felt totally exposed, stripped to the bone and it made her hotter than hell. Drake’s gaze sizzled over her skin as his eyes lingered at her breasts, then continued down. She bit her lip, wanting to tell him to take her, fast and hard. Take control.

  His eyes flicked to hers. He smiled, his fangs gleaming. “Turn around.” He let go of her arms.

  Grace turned, facing the table. Drake’s hands stroked the globes of her bottom, and were hot against her skin. Grace shuddered, the wetness between her legs threatening to run down her thighs. His fingers kneaded her muscles, sending ripples of pleasure into her lower belly. Grace sighed and widened her stance.

  She felt him move up against her. He brought one hand around to grasp her breast while his other hand slid between the cheeks of her ass. “Looks like someone needs a little stroking,” he said, his breath warm against her ear.

  Grace closed her eyes and arched her back, lifting her behind. Drake caught her nipple between two fingers and rolled it, sending shocks tingling through her while the hand that stroked her behind delved deeper, his thumb diving into her wet pussy. Grace caught her breath, placing her hands on the tabletop to balance herself as she rocked her hips back against the hand at her crotch. As his thumb worked inside her, his fingers stroked her clit. Vibrations of pleasure ripped through her as she moaned, throwing her head back against his shoulder.

  “From the moaning you’re doing,” Drake said against her ear, “it sounds like Grace might want to be fucked.” He slid his thumb out of her, using her cream to moisten the cleft between the cheeks of her ass, rubbing the sensitive spot. A shudder passed through her yet again.

  “Does Grace want something bigger inside that hot, wet pussy of hers?”

  Grace cleared her throat. Sweat trickled between
her breasts.

  Drake’s hand disappeared and he moved away.

  Grace could barely breathe. She glanced over her shoulder and watched while Drake stripped off his clothes. It didn’t take him long. Grace ran her tongue over her lips, amazed at the size of his erection. The man was hung. Her pussy muscles clenched in anticipation. She started to turn around.

  “Ah-ah,” he said. “Turn back around.”

  Grace turned, putting her hands back on the tabletop. In an instant, he was behind her again, his cock nestled at her bottom. He put his arms around her and took her hands in his own. “Bend over Baby,” he said, sliding her hands across the table to the opposite edge. He curled her fingers over the edge and squeezed. His next words almost made her come just from the pure force of them.

  “You hang on now,” he whispered, “because I’m going to make you come, over and over, until you pass out.”

  Grace sucked in her breath, the chill of the Formica tabletop causing her taut nipples to buzz. She was draped over the table, ass in full view, only her toes touching the floor. Her nerve endings jittered as butterflies flitted through her stomach. Her pussy hummed with electricity as he rose up off her and positioned himself behind her.

  Drake grasped her hips and nudged her feet apart, spreading her legs as wide as they would go. Grace gripped the edge of the table. Her inability to move only enhanced every minute sensation as he entered her. Then he hesitated, just barely inside her. Grace groaned and tried to move back toward him. She wanted more of his hot cock but he was making her wait, holding her suspended on the table with only the first inch of him inside her.

  “Mmm,” he murmured, his fingers digging into her hips. “You’re so slick, Grace. So tight. So warm.” He moved inside another inch.

  His girth stretched her. She bit her lip and closed her eyes. Pressing her toes against the floor, she clenched her muscles tight around his shaft, urging him deeper. “Please,” she whispered.

  Drake chuckled and eased back.

  “No,” Grace said, breathless with need.

  He moved forward again, a little deeper. “Do you want something, Grace?” One of his hands moved from her hip and dived down in front of her. “Tell me.” His fingers found her clit. He circled her swollen nub with a feathery touch, making her squirm.