“Aren’t you going to answer that?” she asked.
Shit. Gabriel snatched his mobile from his pocket. “Hello… Sorry, I’m not used to the ring tone… No, of course I understand. I’ve no intention of going out this evening. I’m looking forward to watching…that talent show on the television.”
Dava shot a glance at him.
Gabriel coughed. “The young boy, I think. Such a great voice.”
Dava played air guitar.
“And his guitar playing—excellent.” Gabriel was desperate to tell the VRB representative on the other end of the phone to shut up. Dava had told him not to stay connected for too long in case they decided to check where he was using a global positioning system. Apparently they could even pinpoint his location when the phone was merely switched on, but he’d had to leave it on until they called. There was a lot Gabriel had to learn about this new world. It annoyed him Dava knew more than he did.
“No, I haven’t seen Dava.” Gabriel watched her strip and kick her clothes to one side. “No, I have no intention of having anything to do with her and yes, I read the small print. I understand the conditions of my release… Next week? Fine.”
He switched off his phone, hoping they hadn’t had time to trace him.
“You really think the young boy—” Dava asked.
“No,” Gabriel snapped. “I don’t watch it.” Well, he’d only seen it twice. He’d been more interested in how the audience and contestants responded to a judge who was unafraid to tell the ugly truth to those auditioning—that their singing was crap, they bored him to tears and they had no chance of stardom unless they moved to the moon. It had given Gabriel a few ideas. Maybe people sometimes needed to hear hard lessons so that praise eventually strengthened their faith. Could he spin his incarceration into some sort of test of the Calling’s followers? Could he convince them he’d been back to their home planet? Maybe that was a step too far.
“What did the VRB say when you told them their guy failed to show?” Dava asked.
Gabriel sat on the bed and leaned against the headboard. “Surprisingly unsurprised. They’re sending someone next week.” So if all this went tits-up, he could be back in his apartment being a good boy when the social worker visited.
Dava put on a red lace bra and a matching thong. She sighed with what he presumed was happiness, always hard to tell with her, and ran her hands up her thighs over a flat stomach to perky breasts. Gabriel developed a tent in his pants. His cock was more easily pleased than him. Venomous snake she might be, but she was still an attractive woman.
“There might be something in here you and Pete could wear,” Dava said.
Gabriel was more interested in taking his clothes off, but it didn’t do to look too keen.
“Think I should go and see if Mr. Love likes me in his wife’s lingerie?” Dava asked with a giggle.
“No.”
Dava slinked over and straddled Gabriel’s hips.
“Why can’t we spend the night in this bed?” she whined. “It would be much more comfortable than their dusty attic. And how are we going to drag Pete up there with us?”
“We’re not dragging Pete up there. He’s going to be busy doing things for me. We can’t stay in here because it’s dangerous. We need the Loves in their own bed, waking tomorrow, feeling lousy and remembering they’d called in sick. If we leave them tied up and go to sleep in their bed, we’ve lost control of the situation. Not forgetting the fact we have no idea who might visit the house with a key—a cleaner, relations, neighbors.”
“We could just…kill them.” She twisted her lips in a sulk.
Gabriel sighed. “And if we did kill the Loves and someone found them and then found us asleep in their bed, what happens when they whip open the curtain?”
She gave him a blank look.
“Daylight?” Gabriel added, and watched it finally sink into Dumb and Deadly’s brain. “This way, we’ll leave after sunset tomorrow and the Loves won’t even remember us.”
She unzipped his pants and freed his cock. “I can’t wait until we can go out in the sun. Once we get the books, we can find details of the plant. Right?”
Well, that had sort of been the next stage of Gabriel’s brilliant scheme. After he’d begun raising money to find the books twenty-five years ago, a further influx of cash would be required to fund research into duplicating a nonexistent plant. Which would take forever while he lived on a specially designed mega-yacht and travelled the darker parts of the world, supposedly with a team of botanists looking for plants to mix, match and blend. Only, what if there really was a plant that would enable them to walk in the sun? Had he made fiction fact? Fuck, he really was a messiah.
Dava slid her hand up and down his cock, squeezed hard and he hissed. She had the perfect touch, a blend of pain and pleasure.
“What happened to all the money we raised?” she asked.
“It was returned.” Some of it. The rest was safe.
“All of it?”
Dava slipped down his legs, wrapped her lips around his cock and he groaned. She swallowed him down and tightened her throat muscles.
“Not all,” he blurted.
She sucked hard. Dava was rushing him in more ways than one.
* * * * *
Turner backed away from the attic door, away from a naked Catch and Matty, and descended the stairs in silence. Fuck. But what had he expected to see? The pair sitting on opposite sides of the room having a conversation about hypothermia?
He shouldn’t care. He wanted not to care. He had no right to care.
But he did. Oh God, he did.
He’d thought now that Catch had returned… After they’d… That the pair of them— Turner tossed the thought from his mind. What was the point dwelling on redundant emotions? For all he knew, Catch had come here doing his SBI job, checking whether Turner had any contact with Dava or Gabriel. Maybe Catch was using Matty to get at him. Maybe word had somehow seeped out about what Turner had been doing for a large chunk of the last twenty years. It hadn’t escaped his attention that Catch hadn’t asked.
Turner was drowning in a flood of never-ending questions. Rage, regret, jealousy and sorrow tumbled around with an unhealthy dose of self-pity. None of which appeared to have any effect on his cock, which had hardened the moment he decided to walk upstairs. Still hard because even if Turner struggled with the vision of Matty and Catch lying together, his overarching desire was to lie there with them.
He sat on the bottom step and leaned back on the stairs. He needed to think things through before he acted. It would be all too easy to storm off in a fit of pique, yell at Catch for his intransigence, call Matty a slut and slam the door on life for another twenty years. Turner slid his hands into his pants and adjusted his cock. He might think more clearly if he was comfortable.
A snort of laughter escaped his tight lips. Turner had accused Matty of being in denial and wasn’t that just what he was doing? When he’d touched her for the first time, Turner knew something exceptional had ignited between them. It happened with Catch twenty years ago and Turner had spent all that time trying to deny it. Catch had asked him if Matty was his and he’d said no. Turner had lied to protect himself and her, and instead of feeling secure, he’d left himself wide open to disappointment. He took his hands out of his pants and put them behind his head.
They’d both sensed she was in trouble. At the exact same time. How big a clue did he need? Catch had risked his life to save hers. He’d growled over her, for fuck’s sake, and while Catch had at least acted, Turner had dithered. Though only over who to save—if it had come down to that. He wanted them both. His cock thickened and twitched. Maybe Catch felt the same. He’d seen something in Catch’s expression when he’d come to the study and found him alone. Disappointment Matty wasn’t with him?
Turner closed his eyes and sighed. He could really see the wolf sharing. Not. Neither was Turner known for his unselfishness. He’d suffered George’s glare often enough to understand
that, even though his valet was paid to put up with Turner’s self-centered ways. Except this was different. Turner wanted to share Matty with Catch, he wanted to share Catch with Matty.
And now, as he thought life might once again be worth living, there were a couple of problems, forgetting for the time being the issue of Dava and Gabriel. Matty had no idea Turner was a vampire and presumably since she’d not run out of the house screaming, she had no clue Catch was a cross between a vampire and a werewolf. They were the stuff of her nightmares, not her dreams. Just because the pair of them might want her didn’t mean she wanted both of them.
Turner pushed himself to his feet and went back to the library. One last stab at trying to uncover Matty Hobsbawm’s secrets. It might distract him.
He called his lawyers and got an answer machine. Just as he was about to hang up in disgust, they gave a number for emergencies and he scribbled it down and then tapped the numbers into his phone.
“Dorling and Hynd. How can I help you?”
By the time Turner had explained who he was and why he was calling, the annoyance in the man’s voice had become unmistakable.
“This is not an emergency,” he kept repeating.
In the end, Turner gave up. He called the solicitors acting for the vendor, Jenkins and Stour, got their out-of-hours number, and once he’d introduced himself, Turner lied through his fangs.
“Sorry to bother you at this time of night, but I’ve a bit of problem. I’m being pestered about a young woman who used to live in Milford Hall. I’d like to call and warn her that this young man is desperate to see her. I presume the vendor Mr. Strachan is one of her relations. Would you be able to give me his number?”
There was a brief pause before the woman spoke. “I don’t think there would be any point.”
Turner gritted his teeth. He wanted to yell—just give me the fucking number—but didn’t. “Why not?”
“I didn’t deal with the sale but we talked about it in the office. Mr. Strachan was appointed by the court as a deputy to manage the personal welfare and property of his niece Ms. Hobsbawm.”
That didn’t sound good. “Why was that considered necessary?”
“I understand that his niece was injured several months ago in an accident. She’s never regained consciousness.”
Turner clenched the phone so hard he heard it crack. “That’s terrible,” he heard himself say. “Perhaps I should put this young man in touch with the hospital. Do you know…” He scribbled the details down and mumbled his thanks.
Oh God. Turner had been convinced Matty was a ghost. He thought he’d almost convinced her she was a ghost, but he’d been wrong. Only he didn’t know how to react to the news that she wasn’t dead. Pleased she wasn’t a ghost, distressed she was in a coma? He still had no idea how to help her, no idea how to tell her. Turner shuddered. How the fuck could he tell her something like this? One thing was certain, he needed to be sure of his facts before he said anything.
Turner didn’t have time to drive on his own all the way to the hospital and back before sunrise, but he wanted to check that the comatose patient was Matty before he opened his mouth. If he took Catch with him, Turner could sleep in the converted trunk of his car while Catch drove as the sun came up, but Catch was otherwise occupied. And Turner was jealous. So was his cock. Would one night make a difference? Probably not. Hardly the average coitus interruptus. Why wreck their pleasure?
He pushed himself to his feet and trudged back up the stairs to his bedroom. Turner lay on his bed, but he couldn’t settle. One thing he hadn’t done yet was move his notes and files to a safe place. They wouldn’t mean much to anyone but him, but Turner didn’t want them to fall into Gabriel’s hands. He was supposed to just get the diaries.
All Turner’s scientific equipment was in storage in one of the garages. Before he’d moved, he’d pared down what he needed and packed it himself, hidden it with gym equipment. He wouldn’t be continuing with his experiments until there was no threat from Gabriel. Turner’s notes and files were in the closet. The last thing he wanted anyone to discover was that he’d been researching something they thought was made up—plant extracts that enabled vampires to go out in the sun. Didn’t matter that he hadn’t gotten anywhere. But plant development took years. For all he knew, success lay around the corner.
Picking up the bags of notes, Turner transported them to the swimming pool complex. He left the lights off and hid them in the boiler room beneath a folded tarpaulin. When he came out, he locked the door and stared at the pool glimmering in the moonlight. Maybe a splash of cold water would dampen his libido.
Turner shucked off his clothes and dived in. On his third turn, he saw Catch standing at the other end of the pool, and Turner stopped swimming and tread water. Naked, all long limbs and easy grace, Catch posed like some living statue, his broad shoulders tapering into sculptured abs, his erect cock, anchored by heavy balls, framed perfectly by slender hips. Thank fuck the water was cold.
“We need to talk,” Catch said.
That didn’t sound good. Turner swam to the edge, hoisted himself out and sat, legs dangling. Catch joined him. Turner tried not to look at Catch’s cock, knowing the moment he did, his own erection would return with a vengeance.
“How do you feel about both of us fucking Matty?” Catch asked.
Shit. Swelling cock alert.
“We both have.” Turner’s hands clenched over the rim of the pool.
“I mean both of us at the same time.”
Turner’s cock surged.
Catch laughed. “I thought so.”
“What?” Turner snapped.
“You like the idea.”
“Maybe I just want you to suck me off.” Turner had no idea why he was being awkward.
Catch swung his legs out of the water and twisted Turner so he lay back, leaning on his elbows, knees in the air. The moment Catch enveloped his cock in his hot mouth, his tongue teasing the underside, Turner felt orgasm brewing. The budding ache in the back of his head remained part pleasure, part pain, and he waited for it to flash to his groin. As he lifted his hips to fuck Catch’s mouth, Turner raised one hand to slide his fingers into choppy blond hair.
“I saw you,” Turner gasped.
Catch lifted his head. “I know. So why didn’t you join us, you stupid fucker?” He ran his tongue through the slit on Turner’s cock head and then licked his lips. “I prayed to every fucking deity I don’t even believe in for you to walk into that room, strip off and lie down with us. No surprise when you didn’t.”
Turner glared. “I didn’t want to intrude.”
Catch used his thumb to rub the line down the middle of Turner’s balls. “Why would you think that?”
“Matty—”
“Is sweet and cute and needs two sexy guys to show her how much fun three can have. Want to toss for her ass?”
Turner’s brain rocketed into space. Matty between them. Matty and Catch with their mouths on his cock. Him fucking Catch as Catch fucked Matty. In the mouth. In the pussy. In the ass. Christ.
Catch’s long, fast swallows of his cock dragged Turner straight to the brink. The pressure in his head increased and orgasm flashed down his spine to ignite his balls. His hips gave a violent jerk and he filled Catch’s mouth with his seed. Shit, that was fast.
As the last spasm died away, Turner opened his eyes. Catch let him loose from his lips with a wet slurp but kept licking Turner’s cock until he’d cleaned him up.
“I rest my case,” Catch said with a smug grin.
“What?” He had no idea what Catch was talking about. Turner’s head remained fogged by orgasm.
“You never come that fast.”
Turner sat up and stared at him. “Well, maybe I got turned-on by you standing there in the moonlight looking like some…hot god.”
Catch’s mouth twitched. “Nice line of bullshit, Turner. You want Matty lying between us.”
“Maybe I want Matty for myself.” Turner scrambled to hi
s feet.
Catch pushed himself up. “Do you?”
“I…” Turner’s shoulders slumped. He needed to tell Catch what he’d found out.
“How did you feel when you saw me and her together?” Catch asked.
Why was he fighting this? “Sad I wasn’t there with you.” Turner had gotten to that eventually through his anger and despair.
Catch pulled Turner into his arms. “Finally.”
Turner pressed his forehead against Catch’s. “She’s your mate.”
“And so are you.”
Turner’s undead heart stuttered. “I feel it too.”
Oh God, I can’t tell him. Not right now.
“I know,” Catch whispered. “Want to hear what she said when we saw you walk away?”
“Thank God that pervert’s gone?”
“Ha-ha. She wanted to know what would happen if we called you back. I said we’d make it up as we go along. But no one would do anything that made her feel uncomfortable. We both understand no.”
Turner nodded.
“I told her we both wanted her but you were too much of a gentleman to come out with it. She said you were upset.”
“I was.”
“And that you were afraid.”
Turner laughed. “That too.”
Catch stroked his cheek. “We’re all a bit afraid. I asked if I should go get you. She nodded.”
Turner’s fangs prickled and he clamped his lips together. Talk about inappropriate.
“And here I am. Getting you,” Catch said.
“So what happens now?”
“Playtime.” Catch grinned.
* * * * *
What the hell had she done? Panic raced through Matty, leaving goose bumps in its wake as she paced the attic floor. Had she actually said yes or had Catch assumed it?
She might not have said yes but she’d sort of nodded.
Damn it. I did. I nodded.
She made her way to the next floor down while she could still walk. Why shouldn’t she accept what was being offered? They were consenting adults. They wouldn’t hurt her. No point denying it was a fantasy she often played out in her head, though not one she’d ever dreamed could be real. And after all, she’d already had sex with them separately.
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