by M. L. Guida
Deirdre swallowed back her rising fear. Brandon promised he wouldn’t hurt her.
She looked around at the crowd giving them a wide berth. Through the sea of people, she spotted the gorgeous man, his jaw clamped tight and glaring at Brandon.
She swore red glints flared in those brown eyes. He caught her staring and the redness vanished. She shook her head. Must have had too much wine.
Brandon knelt and glowered. “Don’t just stand there. Help us clean up your mess.”
Not convinced she understood, she obeyed. She shook and quickly picked up the broken glass.
The waitress put her tray down and knelt next to Deirdre. “I’ll pay for your pants, mister. I swear I will.”
Brandon patted the waitress’s back. “Stop crying honey. I said it wasn’t your fault.”
At the word fault, he gave Deirdre a murderous stare, but then it faded. Maybe she had imagined it.
He turned to the waitress. “Why don’t you go get us a broom to sweep this mess up?”
“Okay.” The poor girl fled.
The manager, in his Hawaiian shirt and khaki pants, rushed over to Deirdre and Brandon. “Sir, I’m so sorry. We’ll pay for your pants. This way. We’ll get you cleaned up.”
Brandon pinched Deirdre’s cheek a little too hard. “I’ll be back. Stay here.”
The manager mumbled apologizes and escorted Brandon away.
Deirdre blinked back tears. She couldn’t believe Brandon was blaming her for this. She hadn’t even been near the waitress. Strong male hands started helping pick up the glass. She glanced up, expecting to see Brandon, but instead gazed into the dark haired man’s vivid brown eyes.
“Are you alright?”
This close, she could smelled his masculine scent. Sandalwood. Sexy. Hot. She cleared her throat. “Yes, I’m fine. We just had a little accident.”
“You mean GI Joe who bumped into the waitress and spilled drinks on his white pants?”
She sniffled. “He was dancing—”
“More like a left footed dancing gorilla.”
She half-sobbed and at his teasing grin, she couldn’t help but smile through her tears. He was even more handsome when he smiled. He had dimples, and up close, he had a dark shadow beard, only adding to ruggedness.
“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “I’m fine. My boyfriend—”
“Is a jerk.” He tilted his head and offered his hand. “You look a little pale. Come to the table and have some wine.”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re going to be trampled. Come to the table. I insist. Please.”
“But Brandon—”
“My table’s right near the dance floor. He’ll find you.”
She clasped his hand. Tingles shimmered up her arm and she was surprised at the electric charge surging through her. He rubbed his thumb over her palm and her mouth ran dry. In a daze, she allowed him to lead her to his table. He had a bottle of Chianti and poured her glass. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better. I’m Janus Morano. And you’re?”
She sipped the wine, and the liquid rushed through her, calming her fear. “Deirdre. Deirdre Hahn.”
“Ah. Nice to meet you Deirdre.”
“You’re British?”
“Guilty. I’ve just arrived here. Needed a break from dreary London.”
“Oh, I’ve always thought London would be beautiful at Christmas.”
He gave her a curious gaze. “It can be.”
“Deirdre!” Brandon stormed over to the table. “What—”
Janus darted in front of her. She didn’t even see him move. He was fast, real fast.
“Get out of my way,” Brandon hissed. “That’s my girlfriend.”
Janus towered over Brandon and she couldn’t see Brandon’s face. His voice sounded hurt, not angry.
“Then treat her better,” Janus said. “You left her quite shaken. I merely offered her some wine to calm her nerves.” He braced his shoulders back. “You’re not going to intimidate her again? Are you?”
She clasped Janus’s wrist and the same tingling feelings rushed through her. What was it about this man? She had an urge to touch him again. What would it be like to kiss him?
“Janus, it’s fine.”
He cocked his eyebrow and held her gaze. He bowed slightly allowing her to slip past him.
Brandon seized her hand and held it tight. “What were you doing? You’re supposed to be with me.”
“I am with you.”
She answered Brandon, but her gaze was focused on Janus.
By the time Brandon dragged her across the dance floor away from Janus, the spell was broken. What had she been thinking? She was here with Brandon. Damn it, she lived with the man. She loved him, didn’t she?
There was something about Janus. She had an urge to rush into his arms and kiss him, beg him to take her home with him. She clutched Brandon’s hand tighter, afraid she’d give into temptation.
Brandon escorted her to his rented Mercedes at Billy’s Bar and opened the car door for her. Deirdre gazed up at him. “I’m sorry, Brandon. You just scared me when you blamed me for spilling the drinks.”
He glared. “Scared you? Why the hell would I scare you?”
“It reminded me of—”
He grabbed her arm and she winced.
“I told you that would never happen again. Never.”
She pushed on his hand. “You’re hurting me.”
“Sorry.” He released her and sighed. “Just get in Deirdre.”
Deirdre slipped into the car and onto the leather seats. Brandon closed the door and hurried to get inside. Deirdre wrung her hands. Had she made a dreadful mistake?
Brandon reached over and grabbed her hands. “Look at me.”
She bit her lip and gazed into his intense face.
“I promised you I’d never hurt you again and I meant it,” he said.
She nodded, wanting to believe him, desperate to believe him. “Brandon, I just had a glass of wine with him. He helped me clean up the broken glass.”
He leaned across the car and opened the glove compartment. “I’m not mad.”
“What are you doing?”
“Proving to you how much I love you.” He pulled out a black velvet box.
Deirdre couldn’t speak. Excitement rushed through her blood. For five months, Brandon had avoided the subject of marriage. Said he didn’t want to get married until he was thirty-five and made a million dollars. He was only thirty and had only made a third of that amount.
He opened the box. “Will you marry me?”
Tears welled in her eyes and she couldn’t breathe. The biggest diamond she’d ever seen sparkled on a platinum ring.
Brandon cleared his throat. “Well?”
Eagerness plastered his face and he glanced at the ring and her.
“Are you sure?”
“Deirdre, I bought the ring, didn’t I?”
“But you never—”
“I know. I know.” His voice choked and a tear slid down his cheek. “But after you threatened to leave me, after that terrible night, I didn’t care about the money. All I cared about was you and spending my life with you. I swear I’ll spend the rest of my days making it up to you. I want to fulfill your every desire. Please forgive me.” He bent over and kissed her neck. “So, Deirdre, will you be my wife?”
Shivers ran through her and she remembered the night he beat her. How scared she’d been, how badly she was hurt. She wanted to believe he’d changed, but what if this was all an act?
“I swear Deirdre, I’ll never hurt you again. I promise.”
She licked her lips and hoped she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life and whispered, “Yes.”
Brandon took the ring out and slipped it on her finger. “Good you’re mine. Forever. You consented.”
She was expecting a loving or an endearing statement but consented? Strange word.
Brandon parked the Mercedes at the Turtle Bay Hotel and got out to open her
door. He slipped his hand into hers and led her toward the double glass doors. Her ring sparkled in the moonlight. She didn’t care about the size of the diamond. It was more important that Brandon pleaded his love to her and swore to make her happy.
The sliding glass doors automatically parted and Brandon and Deirdre walked through the lobby. Adults sat in overstuffed chairs and sofas and sipped tropical drinks. Excited children giggled and jumped up and down around a huge glimmering Christmas tree surrounded by red, white, and pink poinsettias. Their excitement was contiguous and Deirdre laughed. She wanted to dance with them and show off her ring and announce her engagement.
A mother and father and their two girls dressed in matching velvet dresses waited for the elevators. An elevator dinged and as the doors slid apart, Brandon swung her inside. She stumbled and hit the side panel. “Brandon.”
“Hey watch it, buddy,” the father growled. “You almost hit my daughter.” He hugged a little blond girl grasping his thigh.
“I’m sorry,” Brandon murmured. “I didn’t realize my own strength.” He seized Deirdre and rubbed her arm, a bit too hard. She stepped away but he grabbed Deirdre’s hand and practically shoved it into the woman and man’s face. “See. We just got engaged. She’s mine.”
“Lucky her,” the man grumbled. The woman edged closer to her husband.
Deirdre pulled on her hand. “Brandon, what’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing, I just want the whole world to know you’re mine.”
Deirdre should be happy. And when she entered the lobby, she was. Warning shots fired in her brain. Something wasn’t right. Consented. Mine. Those weren’t words of endearment. Had she just made a monumental mistake?
The family got off on floor number five. Theirs was the next one.
Brandon’s eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. Not a good sign. He bit his fingers into her flesh deeper and hauled her to his chest. “I leave you for one minute and you throw yourself at another man.” He shook her. “You know what happens when you humiliate me.”
“No, please, Brandon.” She pressed on his hand and tears welled in her eyes. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me again.”
“You make me hurt you.” The doors opened and he hauled her down the floor to their room. “This isn’t my fault.”
“Let me go. It’s Christmas Eve. You just proposed. And promised you’d ever hurt me again.”
“Then why the hell were you drinking wine with another man?”
He shoved her inside their room and slammed the door shut. She held up her hands. “Brandon, please don’t do this. Stop.”
“You consented.” He snatched her hair and yanked. “I’ll stop when I want to stop.”
Her dreams shattered.
“You’re going to learn not to embarrass me and be an obedient wife.”
She tried to pry his fingers off her hair. “Let go of me.”
He released her and slapped her across the face. Her cheek throbbed. He smashed his fist into her eye. Pain exploded. She fell onto the bed and he slapped her again. Blood seeped into her mouth. He raised his clenched hand, but she rolled away, his fist punching into the bed instead of her head.
Deirdre scrambled onto the edge of the bed and tapped her lip. Her finger was smeared in blood.
He stalked her around the bed and Deirdre bolted back across. Brandon clasped her ankle and snagged the hem of her dress. He jerked, ripping the fabric.
She kicked at him hard with her other foot, hitting him in the groin.
He groaned. “Bitch.”
He bent over and hobbled over toward her. His blue eyes were blazing.
Deirdre darted and groped with the doorknob. She ripped open the door, but Brandon plowed his shoulder into the door, shutting off her freedom.
He backhanded her and she smashed the side of her face against the wall. Dizziness swept over her. She broke free of his grasp. Shit! The bastard was going to kill her.
She ran away from him and grabbed a blue ceramic lamp off the oak night stand. Brandon barreled toward her and Deirdre swung the lamp, hitting him in the temple. The lamp shattered. Blood dripped down the side of his face and he collapsed onto his knees.
Deirdre skidded away and escaped out the door. Tears blurred her eyes. Her face throbbed. The taste of metallic swirled in her mouth and trickled down her throat.
She punched the elevator button repeatedly. The yellow light glowed and the elevator dinged. Two floors above. Fuck this.
She raced toward the exit sign and flew down the stairs. Her breath was ragged and every time she inhaled, her lungs burned. She gripped the railing to keep from falling and forced her shaking legs to step down each stair. Her torn red dress hung crooked off her shoulder.
Damn you, Brandon! She yanked the ring off her finger and threw it, not caring where it fell.
The dim light guided her down the flights of stairs. At each landing, she stopped, pressed her back against the wall and listened. She kept waiting for Brandon’s bellowing voice and pounding footsteps. Only the buzzing lights screamed at her. Brandon must have thought she took the elevator or was he badly injured? Possibly, bleeding to death on the hardwood floor.
Her purse was back in the room. She had no money. Nowhere to go. No plan.
Chapter Two
Janus sped his yellow Jeep Wrangler toward the Turtle Bay Hotel. Delores’s cries of terror pounded in his mind. Wait. Not Delores. Deirdre. Deirdre Hahn.
The lass couldn’t hear him, not unless he took her blood. But he could hear her. She was in pain.
She was hurt and needed comfort, not to be terrorized more. Announcing he was a master vampire fell into that category.
He slammed the jeep into a parking lot. He didn’t know if he could keep from killing Brandon. The bastard. He reminded him of Major Martin Lear who had died a most agonizing death. Like Lear, Delaney’s life line ran out as soon as he’d hurt Deirdre.
Janus jumped out of the jeep and rushed toward the hotel.
Deirdre ran out of the lobby glass doors. Her hair tumbled into her face and her torn red dress hung off a shoulder.
He stopped. “Deirdre?”
She glanced over her shoulder and sobbed. “Stay away from me, Brandon.”
She stumbled and fell into his outstretched arms. “Deirdre?” A wild Amazon, she struggled. Her nails clawed his forearms.
“I’m not Brandon.”
“Leave me—” She released his forearms and jerked away from him. “You.”
“You’re hurt.”
She hung her head. “I’ve got to get out of here. Please. If he sees us…”
“Let me worry about him. Let me help you.”
“I don’t know you.”
“You met me at Billy’s Bar. Remember? My name is Janus.”
Her brow furrowed. “Janus?”
Janus stilled. Deirdre always furrowed her brows when she was trying to figure something out. Had his name triggered something? Hope flared. Maybe he had a chance.
“I promise I won’t hurt you. I can take you someplace safe.” He motioned toward his SUV. “Will you trust me?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t know you.”
“Do you want him to find you?”
Dried blood caked on Deirdre’s chin and her right eye was swollen shut. He wanted to tear Brandon into tiny pieces.
She rubbed her swollen cheek. “No.”
The double doors slid open. A man held his head and swayed out of the hotel. “Deirdre!”
Janus inhaled the spicy scent of blood and his nostrils flared. His fangs elongated and he ran his tongue over the sharp tips. Brandon. Had she hurt him?
He wanted to grab Brandon and drink until he was nothing but an empty husk.
Deirdre covered her mouth and her body shook all over. She was near hysterics. If he attacked Brandon, he’d send her over the edge. Janus squelched the impulse to grab Brandon and drink until he was nothing but an empty husk.
“He’s coming,” Deird
re whispered.
Brandon stomped toward them, but he wavered and put his hand on a palm tree. The doorman ran over, but Brandon shoved him away.
“Oh, no.” Deirdre stepped back. “I’ve got to get out of here. He’ll kill me.”
Like hell, he would. The bastard didn’t know what pain was. Janus would have him beg for mercy. But that didn’t matter. Only Deirdre’s safety mattered. There was time to kill Brandon later.
“Deirdre,” Brandon yelled again. He made his way down the sidewalk.
Janus clamped his jaw shut and fought the urge to grab Deirdre’s hand and force her behind him.
She glanced around the parking lot. “You’ve got a car?”
“The yellow Jeep Wrangler.”
“All right, I’ll go with you,” Deirdre whispered.
Janus ushered her into the jeep and raced out of the parking lot. Deirdre clutched the side door and flattened her body next to it. He switched on the radio and she flinched. “I won’t hurt you,” he said.
Amy Grant’s Hark the Herald Angels Sing played on the radio. When Deirdre was Delores, she used to love this song and he missed her soprano voice. Deirdre’s tangled hair hung in her face and she sniffed.
“Do you want me to turn it off?”
She shook her head and pushed strands of unruly hair off her face. “No. It’s my favorite Christmas song.” She put her hand on the window. “But it’s not much of a Christmas Eve.”
Janus’s chest tightened. He wanted to ease her loss and take away the nightmare, but he could only do this by taking her blood and wiping out her memory of this terrible night. Not going to happen. He didn’t want her to be a drone. What did human males say to comfort their women? It had been so long since he’d been human that he’d forgotten.
He drove off the main highway and up the curvy road to his rented condominium in the hills. Lush ferns, hibiscus bushes, palm trees were on either side of the road. The moon played hide and seek between the palm trees.
“Where are we going?” Fear resonated in her voice.
“My condo.”
“I don’t want to go there. Take me to the police station in Honolulu.”
“We’ll call the police from my condo. Brandon is hunting you. Do you want to drive along the highway with Brandon in pursuit?”