Reawakening

by K. L. Kreig

  “How many others are like Geoffrey within Xavier’s ranks, ready to stage a coup?” Damian asked.

  “He doesn’t know, but suspects there may be several others. It wasn’t something they discussed at the water cooler, per se.”

  “What’s his endgame here? Why not just tell us all of this when Damian captured him, instead of kidnapping his mate?” Dev asked, genuinely confused.

  “He would not put his own Moira in danger. I think I can honestly say any of us would have done the same thing in his position. As far as his endgame, he wants the same thing we want—to wipe Xavier, his rogues and his minions out. But he needs our help.”

  “How much intel does he have?” Dev asked.

  “A lot, but not everything. As you can imagine, Xavier keeps things buttoned up pretty tight, so it’s taken years to gain the knowledge he has now. He believes he knows where all of the kidnapped women are being held. Xavier doesn’t think anyone knows where the children are kept, but Geoffrey has identified five locations. He thinks there may be a few more. He’s also been trying to download records on a thumb drive when possible, but that’s risky. So, he has some of what we need, but not all.”

  “Then he goes back in,” Damian snapped. “And he stays there until he has every fucking shred of information we need to destroy Xavier and every fucking compound and save every single innocent man, woman and child. And if he gets himself murdered in the process, well … karma’s an evil bitch.”

  “Agreed,” Rom replied.

  After two hours of heated discussion, they had a plan and Rom was chomping at the bit to get to Sarah.

  “Take me to Sarah,” Rom demanded as they all stood to depart. He would not wait one more minute to be with his Moira.

  After regarding him for several beats, Dev responded, “No.”

  “No?” Rom growled in disbelief. If Devon thought he would stop him from being with his soon-to-be mate, he was sorely, and painfully, mistaken.

  “That’s right. No. I won’t let you use her, or hurt her.”

  “I would never hurt her.” Fuck, he would kill anyone who tried to hurt her.

  “Rom, I love you like a brother. But you can be … harsh and intense. And Sarah is delicate and fragile. I don’t know what went on between you two last week, but you need to just find another female. She’s not the one for you.”

  “She. Is. Mine,” Rom thundered. There was not one vampire in this house who would keep him away from Sarah and Dev was treading on very thin ice, which unbeknownst to Dev, was cracking under the heavy weight of his feeble protests. Sarah was anything but delicate and fragile. While he didn’t know much about her, that much he did know. In her eyes, he saw strength and bravery and tenacity.

  Damian was quiet, but if the broad, knowing smile on the asshole’s face was any indication, he was obviously enjoying the show. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise Rom if Damian ran and got some hot buttery popcorn and a box of Milk Duds and kicked back to see who threw the first punch.

  Damian’s comments last month now echoed through his head, “Go ahead, yuck it up man. I won’t forget this when you find your Moira. Then I’ll be the one in the wings laughing my ass off. You’re bound to get one that will give you a run for your money.”

  “She’s yours? As in … your Moira?” Dev asked disbelievingly.

  He nodded tightly.

  “She’s your Moira? Then how could you fucking leave and not come back for almost a week, Rom?”

  He said nothing. Now was not the time to get into the whys of what he’d done over the past several days and he didn’t owe either of them a damn explanation.

  “Fuck,” Dev breathed at the same time Damian started laughing.

  “Okay then. Let’s go.”

  Smart vampire.

  “I’m tagging along,” Damian jibed behind him as they started for the door. Rom would give anything to wipe that irritating smile off Damian’s face. He turned back around.

  “No. You’re not. You’re going to go back to your own mate and prepare her. I’ll be taking Sarah back to Washington with me. Tonight.”

  “Rom, you’re not fucking serious. You can’t just waltz in there, claim her as yours and flash her away to your secluded haunted house in the hills. Jesus, do you have any sense or self-preservation at all? Women do not like that shit.”

  “It matters not what she wants. That’s what will happen. I will not let her out of my sight for one single second.” He couldn’t.

  “I have to agree with Damian on this, Rom,” Dev chimed in, coming to face him. “That’s a very bad idea. Just because she’s your Moira, doesn’t mean she’ll want to bond with you and you know that.”

  In one ear and out the other. Rom didn’t give a rat’s ass what these two thought. They didn’t have a goddamned clue what he’d been through. He’d been down this road before and wouldn’t wade down it again. It was too painful and too dangerous.

  Dev’s face turned serious. “Rom, I know what you’re going through.” He didn’t have the slightest clue. “But if you take her against her will, in her mind you’re no better than Xavier, even though your intentions are entirely honorable.”

  Damian interrupted with his two cents of course, “Well, I’m quite sure your intentions are not that honorable … but that’s beside the point.”

  Dev glared at Damian and he just shrugged his shoulders before Dev continued, “And, Moira or not, Sarah might never recover enough from that betrayal to give you a chance. You know I’m right.”

  “He’s right, Rom. I know from experience … I almost lost Analise because I betrayed her trust.”

  “Fuck,” he yelled, walking to the far side of Dev’s office. He was utterly torn. Goddamn Devon and his fucking common sense. Rom was not used to this roller coaster of emotions and quite frankly, it was pissing him off. Suddenly his swift and concise decision making skills had turned on him and he couldn’t make a choice to save his soul. He stood there several minutes before making up his mind.

  Spinning around, he said, “I’m staying until she agrees to leave with me. But if I have my way, it will be this evening.”

  Dev nodded, clearly trying to hide his smirk. “The north wing is empty. I’ll make sure a couple of rooms are set up for you there.”

  “I’ll just need one. If we stay, Sarah will stay with me.”

  Damian chuckled and rolled his eyes, not even bothering to try hiding it. “You’ve got a lot to learn, my friend. A. Lot. To. Learn.”

  “Kate’s bringing Sarah back over. She’d gone to bed,” Dev announced. Christ … he was acting like an unmitigated lunatic who needed a straightjacket to keep from harming himself or others. In his case, it was definitely others. Namely the two standing in front of him.

  “No. Let her sleep. I’ll see her first thing in the morning, instead.”

  “You’re sure?” Dev asked, confusion written all over his face.

  They were onto him. His calm, cool façade was quickly cracking. He was acting way out of character, though finding one’s Moira tended to make a vampire more alpha and unpredictable than normal. But for him, this erratic behavior was extreme. He’d tell them eventually, but Sarah was his first, and only, priority right now.

  “Yes. I’ll take care of Geoffrey tonight and return immediately afterwards.”

  He planned to do that as quickly as possible and if he couldn’t be with Sarah physically tonight, he would camp outside of her room and guard her against anything, and anyone, that could cause her harm.

  “Until morning, my beauty,” he uttered, before he flashed to Wyoming to free his captive.

  Chapter 7

  Mike

  He’d fallen asleep on the couch, watching Jimmy Kimmel, when a noise on the porch woke him. Grabbing his Glock 22 from the coffee table drawer, he inched toward the bay window. There had been a rash of burglaries in his neighborhood over the past few weeks and he’d wanted nothing more than to take those fucking crack head thugs down. If one happened to get shot in the sc
uffle … oh well. One less shithead roaming the earth.

  Two weeks ago, they’d held his poor elderly neighbor at gunpoint, taking the little cash she’d had on hand. She’d ended up having a heart attack and had now gone to live with her daughter in Texas. He expected to see a For Sale sign in her yard any day now. What kind of pussies prey on an old woman? Fuckers. He hoped they were on the porch right now with a gun, so he could claim self-defense because he would be the last man standing.

  Opening the blinds slightly with the tip of his weapon he was relieved, but confused at the same time, to see Giselle standing at his front door.

  What was she doing here?

  Although they’d texted a few times, he hadn’t seen her since the last time he was at Dev’s, when he’d talked to Jamie. Which was also the day Giselle had comforted him. That one simple act seemed to change the course of their relationship. She’d not been as frigid as she usually was; therefore he’d kept his barbs to a minimum. He never did say anything to Dev about not working with her, but they’d had no assignments together either and he had to admit that he’d missed her.

  Stowing the gun in the back waistband of his jeans, he opened the door. Regardless of the reason she was here, she was incredibly stunning as always. The deep purple corset that pushed her breasts together and barely covered her nipples made him instantly hard. He swore she did that on purpose.

  “Giselle. You do realize humans sleep at this time of night, right?” he jibed as he stood back and waived her in.

  “Sleeping is for pussies. And old people.”

  “You couldn’t have called first? You have my number,” he countered as he made his way back to the couch, sitting down. He flipped off the TV, not caring for the background noise, wanting to focus only on the vision of loveliness before him.

  Ignoring his question, she continued, “And you’re not old. So … does that make you a pussy, detective?”

  He smirked, stood and closed the short distance between them. Along with that sinful corset, she wore dark black jeans that looked painted on and short animal print boots, which brought her mouth nearly to his height. Some men may be intimidated by a woman who was the same height, but not him. He fucking loved it. It made capturing her lips that much easier.

  He reached up, cupping her face, his left thumb skimming her full bottom lip. Which she began to nervously chew on.

  “Why don’t you check, Giselle?”

  Her breath quickened, if the heaving of her nearly exposed chest was any indication. She hadn’t taken her eyes from his mouth since her verbal challenge. Even though she’d die before she admitted it, she’d missed him too. He was painfully hard and swore he could smell her arousal. Fuck, he wanted to kiss her.

  She swallowed hard, before flicking her eyes to his in silent challenge.

  Do it, they begged.

  That’s the only green light he needed before he took her lower lip between his teeth, dragging it through harshly. She closed her eyes and sighed softly. Her upper lip was next and he paid it the same treatment, relishing in her breathy moans. He finally took her full mouth in a soul-stealing kiss, palming the back of her neck to hold her exactly where he wanted.

  Breaking away from her mouth, his lips trailed across her cheek to her ear.

  “Christ, I want you so fucking much, Giselle,” he murmured in her ear before taking the lobe between his teeth and biting down hard. She sucked in a sharp breath, as he predicted. The one thing he’d come to learn about her over these last several months is how much she loved the sting of his bite, even if it was with dull human teeth.

  Kissing his way down her neck, he traced the top of her exposed breast lightly with his index finger, dipping it inside to feel her hard nub. “I want to be buried so deep inside you, you’ll feel me even when I’m not there.”

  She turned her head kissing his neck, dragging her sharp teeth along his thin, sensitive flesh. His ministrations stopped as he enjoyed the kisses and nicks she peppered along his skin.

  Fuck, he wanted to be inside her more than his next breath, but he’d pushed her too hard, too fast before, and he would not do that again. This time, if they weren’t completely in the same story and on the same fucking page, he’d bookmark it again for another day. As agonizingly hard as that would be. If she wasn’t ready yet, he would not pressure her.

  He gently grabbed her head, holding it tightly against him, forcing her to stop.

  “I want this, Giselle. I want you, but I need you to be all in with me. And if you’re not ready yet, that’s okay. I’ll wait. I’ll wait for as long as it takes, baby.” And he meant it.

  She was silent, but listening.

  “I don’t know why you’re here, baby, but stay. Spend the night with me. Please. I want to hold your body against mine.” He placed a soft kiss on her temple and had to force his hands not to roam the body she’d so teasingly put on display. Some may call Giselle a cock tease, but he knew better. She was a confused, traumatized woman and he would not add to that.

  “I have a pet project I wanted your help with,” she whispered.

  He was unable to contain the broad smile that spread across his face. So she wasn’t here on assignment, but because she wanted to be? Very good to know.

  “Stay,” he firmly demanded.

  “The project …”

  He had her. She wanted to stay, but he’d get her to admit it, because he’d be damned if she’d turn this around on him come the morning when she may be feeling less vulnerable.

  “We’ll work on it first thing tomorrow. Stay.” His lips trailed across her temple. “Stay. I promise to behave,” he whispered. He hadn’t promised not to take a cold shower and pump the junk a few times to relieve the ache he now felt deep in his balls.

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  Thank fuck. He wasn’t sure he could handle her walking out the door, not knowing when he’d see her again.

  He’d finally gotten Giselle in his bed, not exactly the way he’d wanted, but it was a start. Now, he just needed to figure out how to keep her there, because against everything he’d ever believed could have happened … he was in love with this female, a vampire, and he didn’t want to let her go.

  Ever.

  Chapter 8

  Sarah

  His hands traveled lightly down her exposed arms. She wanted them to thread underneath her pajama top and palm her aching breasts. She wanted his lips to take her pebbled nipple into his mouth, but he frustratingly kept his touch light, teasing. Hot breath skated along her neck, but his mouth never touched her skin.

  She didn’t want to wake, but consciousness beckoned her. Just a few more minutes, she pleaded.

  “More,” she begged.

  This was the first time he’d ever touched her in a dream. After all these years of aching for him, he finally had his hands on her but it wasn’t enough. And why did it feel so right, yet so weirdly wrong at the same time?

  It was him, but he’d yet to show his face. It was him, but every time she tried to look into his icy blues, they became concealed again. Gah! Why was he hiding from her?

  Morning rays spilled in around the closed shades and the last images of her erotic dream faded away. She whipped off the covers, her body in agony with unfulfilled need. Her hand snaked down under her panties, finding her pussy completely drenched. She had to relieve some of the pressure that’d built to volcanic proportions. She’d never been so turned on.

  And it was just a dream. Imagine how the real flesh and blood Romaric would feel against your skin, in your body.

  Spreading her moisture, she reached climax in record time and lay panting on sweat soaked sheets. Once wasn’t enough and after the second release, she finally felt a small amount of the heaviness subside. If she did happen to see Romaric, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep from jumping him on the spot. And wouldn’t that be embarrassing, throwing yourself at someone who didn’t bother to give you the time of day.

  Pushing down her disappointment that she
hadn’t seen him last night, she headed for the shower. Thirty minutes later, hair slightly damp and curly, with a light coat of mascara and some powder to cover her shiny pores, she dressed in jean shorts and a navy blue tank. Slipping on her flip-flops, she opened her bedroom door and froze.

  Standing in her doorway—no, more like taking up her entire doorway—was Romaric Dietrich.

  Romaric, Greek God of sex.

  In.

  The.

  Flesh.

  Sweet. Holy. Mother.

  With his sexy goatee and light hair so closely cropped to his head that he almost appeared bald, he was god-like perfection and scary intimidating all at the same time. The entire package was rounded out with his clear blue penetrating eyes, and shoulders so broad he’d put any NFL linebacker to shame.

  And his scrutiny of her now was as, if not more, piercing as that night at dinner seven long days ago. His eyes raked over every inch of her exposed flesh, lingering on the swell of her breasts, before snapping back to hers. She suddenly wished she’d worn wedges, not only to make her taller, but to lengthen her less than model short legs.

  Sweet. Holy. Mother. Yes, she was repeating herself, but Jesus, it was worth repeating.

  “Hello Sarah,” he drawled. The deep timbre of his voice echoed in her ears long after he’d stopped talking.

  “Uhhhhh …”

  He chuckled and it was the first time she’d seen a hint of a smile on his oh so serious face. She loved it. If he would full on smile, she was sure she’d drop to her knees and kiss his feet. Or something else.

  Sarah … stop.

  “It’s customary to say hello back.”

  Not knowing what else to do, she complied. “Uh, hello.” But it came out choppy and breathless, instead of sexy and confident.

  Groan.

  To her surprise, he grabbed her hand—her rubbin’ the nubbin’ one—and brought it to his mouth, brushing his lips across her knuckles before inhaling deeply.

  A knowing grin spread across his face and she wasn’t sure if she should die of mortification on the spot or kneel at his feet, as she’d earlier thought. His smile lit up the entire room, brighter than the sunlight streaming in her now open window.