Tempted by the Night

by Colleen Gleason

  To his surprise and relief, she nodded. After a quick check to make sure Zoë and the others were otherwise distracted, and there was no sound or smell of zombies in the air, he gestured to a decrepit building. Marisa nodded again, clearly understanding his plan to make a large circuit out and away from this area of the enclosure in order to avoid being seen by the snoot.

  It was a little risky, but not as risky as trying to go back in the way they’d come.

  And so, step by step, moving from shadow to shadow, they made their way carefully around to the main entrance of River Vale.

  Once there, Luke’s concern wasn’t about getting through the gates—they were there to keep out the zombies and wild animals, not people—but being seen and recognized by any other residents of River Vale.

  If word got out to Ian Marck that Luke had been seen near or inside the walls, Zoë’s misdirection would be in vain…and Marisa would be considered an accomplice. Another wave of guilt crashed over him. He had risked not only himself but her with this mad plan, and for what reason? Just so he could see her again?

  “I’ll go first.” She must have realized his hesitation as they made the last mad dash and paused behind the River Vale sign, for she added, “To make sure no one’s around.”

  Luke had no choice but to agree, and just as she started to slip away, he pulled her back with a sharp tug…catching her in his arms. “Thank you,” he whispered, then found her mouth with his and gave her a quick, yet thorough—very thorough—kiss.

  When he pulled away and saw shock behind her askew glasses, he swore silently. Too much? Too soon? Right…she certainly wouldn’t have expected her sister’s ex-fiancé to be kissing her every chance he got. Dammit.

  Marisa pulled away and, with one last strange look, she stood and walked boldly up to the gate. It was closed, of course, but it was easy to open—for someone who wasn’t a zombie or a wild animal.

  Luke waited as she opened the gate and stepped inside. The doorway closed. All was silent. And still.

  Nothing.

  As he waited for what seemed too long, he stewed with guilt and regret. Maybe she was still pissed off at him. Maybe she was just trying to get away from him and his manhandling…

  No, no, that couldn’t be it. If she hadn’t wanted to be around him, hadn’t wanted to help, she could easily have just let him go on his own…

  But the gate didn’t open.

  And it didn’t open.

  And all was silent, except, once more in the not-too-distant night came the eerie, terrible sound: “Rrrrruuuuuttthhhhhh…”

  Chapter Eight

  * * *

  What in the hell had that been? That last, crazy, hot kiss?

  Marisa’s heart was thudding and her knees were weak as she leaned against the inside of the wall.

  Thank you, he’d murmured.

  Of course he was grateful for her assistance—after all, without Marisa to show him the way, he would have been in a lot more trouble, and either zombie meat by now (although he was blond, so maybe they would have just carted him off), or in the unpleasant custody of Ian Marck.

  Either way…he hadn’t needed to kiss the hell out of her—again—to thank her. Unless…no. Don’t be silly.

  To emphasize the ridiculousness of the half-formed thought, she shook her head, bumping against the wall and knocking her glasses off. After bending to retrieve them, Marisa stood and looked around to make certain of her initial impression that no one was in the vicinity.

  All was silent and still, except across the way she could see the colorful flicker of light from the movie…which was apparently still going. She wondered if the girl had finally been kissed.

  I sure have.

  Damn. Stop thinking about that. You’ve got other things to take care of.

  Okay. No one was around. The movie was still going. The coast was clear.

  Marisa opened the gate and stuck out her arm, making a sharp come on! gesture without even looking beyond the entrance.

  A moment later, Luke’s strong, warm fingers closed around her hand and she pulled him inside the gate, then closed it. “Stay in the shadows,” she told him—probably needlessly, but whatever—and, releasing his hand, began to walk boldly toward the Shelby Library.

  She’d already come up with a plan, and he was going to have to go along with it—whether he liked it or not.

  Luke hugged the buildings, staying out of sight but following her as she hurried to her home. Surely Ian Marck and Juniper were still outside the gates, or at least if they weren’t they had come back inside through the secret passage and were on the other side of the town. The only worry she had was for the third bounty hunter—wherever he was.

  So when they got to the library, instead of going in through the main entrance, she went in through the side—the same door where she’d first encountered Ian Marck when she was coming out. It was the closest entrance to the secret room, and the furthest from the living space.

  No one was around. When she slipped inside, Marisa saw only darkness and heard nothing at all. No one was there. Surely no one was there.

  She tiptoed in to be certain, making her way down one of the narrow aisles between bookshelves, listening and holding her breath…and then she heard it.

  Snores. Deep, guttural, choking snores.

  She grinned and turned back—only to find Luke immediately behind her.

  Her shock at seeing the large figure in her wake was quickly masked, however, and she made little more than a gurgling sound of surprise before leaning in to whisper, “Now would be a good time to set up the—the thing. No one is around. It’s dark. How much time do you need?”

  His face showed astonishment and relief. “Great. I was afraid…I thought you’d…well, to answer your question, I only need about ten minutes once I get up there.”

  Marisa nodded, putting space between them. She needed space or she was going to grab him and start kissing him again right there. “This way. I have an idea.”

  She’d already figured out the perfect location for the NAP. It was easy to get to and not very noticeable, for it was a location of the roof that was hidden by a decorative brick ledge.

  “These stairs lead to a roof access,” she told Luke when they got to the back of the building. “Dad used to go up there and watch for zombies. And maybe for the snoot, for all I know,” she added wryly.

  “You are amazing,” Luke said. He might have moved toward her for an embrace, but Marisa forestalled it by stepping back and gesturing him to go up.

  “I’ll stand watch. I’ll…um…I’ll whistle if anyone comes.”

  He needed no further urging, and disappeared up the stairs on silent feet. Marisa’s heart beat rapidly as she waited and listened, praying she wouldn’t hear any shouts or thuds or anything going wrong. She paced over to the single intact window at the end of the hall and looked out. The colorful light of the movie was still flickering in the distance, and everything was silent.

  Even the sounds of zombies were absent.

  So all she had to do was stand there and wait. And hope.

  And try not to think.

  The good news was, once he got the NAP set up tonight, there’d be no reason for Luke to stay. He could head back to Envy and bring whatever information he had to the Waxnicki brothers.

  And she’d never have to see him again. Wouldn’t have to face him again.

  He could leave first thing when the sun came up. She could help him get out without the snoot seeing him, and he’d be gone before she knew it—

  Marisa’s stomach dropped when a shadow fell over her, and she spun.

  “You’re back,” she managed to say. “That was quick. Everything went…everything went well?”

  “Mission accomplished. Thanks to you.” He was looking at her with an odd light in his eyes, and she turned away abruptly.

  “Let’s go.”

  He didn’t ask where, and she felt no need to explain the rest of her plan—it was probably pretty obvi
ous where they were going. The rough snores still reverberated through the building, giving Marisa more confidence that everything was going to be all right.

  As long as she could get through the upcoming goodbye.

  Luke was silent, following close behind as she turned into the corridor leading to the secret room. Though he watched with interest as she removed the fake switch plate and pushed the code, Luke showed no reaction until the hidden door began to open. The pile of rubble slid to the side, the “fallen” beam lifted, and the wall moved.

  “Holy shit,” he muttered, wearing a look of admiration and shock. “The Waxnickis are fucking geniuses.”

  She gave him a little shove to get him to move over the threshold, then followed and pivoted back to ensure the door closed properly.

  “All right,” she said, turning to step into the room. “No one will be able to find—”

  All at once, he was there. Right there. His hands were on her, the wall loomed behind her, his body lined up against hers, and his mouth swooped down to cover her lips.

  Marisa’s startled gasp was smothered by the kiss, and she was vaguely aware when someone—Luke—tore away her glasses. His hands were everywhere, and so—she realized—were hers.

  Oh…God…she thought, sinking into the kiss, taking him on: the firm molding of his lips against hers, his slick, strong tongue, the heat trundling through her like some great dam had been released and flooded her with desire. She shivered when he slid his broad hands down to cover her bottom, to hold her hips in place as the heat and hardness of his body seared into her.

  Holy shit…

  I’m kissing Luke Desmond. For real.

  And he was delicious. Tasted delicious: sweet and salty on his jaw, warm and supple beneath his ear. He groaned into hers, and the low rumble filled his chest and vibrated beneath her hands.

  Before she quite knew what was happening, she’d yanked his shirt up and slid her hands beneath it and over the warm, smooth skin uncovered. Rough hair, rock-hard muscles, heat, damp…and the very obvious fact that he was interested in more than a kiss.

  “Marisa,” he sighed into her ear, his hands covering her breasts and his hips holding her in place. “Are you…I…we…” There was enough question in his voice, enough hesitation, to have her stuttering to a halt.

  No, it was more like soaking in one of the hot springs pools, and having someone pour a bucket of cold water on top of her head. Sudden and sharp and very eye-opening.

  She pushed at him and turned her face away so he wouldn’t see the shame and chagrin in her eyes. “Luke.” She stepped aside, away from him, away from the desire she’d ignored for years.

  “Marisa.” He grabbed her hands. He was panting a little, and his eyes were hot and yet filled with something odd…fear? Shame? Guilt?

  Oh God.

  “As I was saying,” she began bravely, amazed at how steady and cool her voice was. When she saw her glasses on one of the computer tables, she snatched them up and replaced them like a neat glass barrier. “No one will find us in here. We—you—can hole up in here until it’s safe or the snoot leave, and then you can sneak out be on your—”

  “Stop talking.” He held up a hand. It trembled a little. His sun-tipped blond hair was a tousled mess and his blue eyes were filled with misery and determination. His untucked shirt was catty-wonker and rumpled up, showing part of a flat, golden belly dusted with hair.

  Marisa swallowed hard and averted her gaze, only to have it land on the healthy bulge filling out his jeans. She yanked her attention away as her cheeks burned. Oh my God, I’m an idiot.

  “I need to say something,” Luke continued. “I need to…explain. I need to apologize.”

  She shook her head, stepping back—away from the golden temptation—and began to realign the spines of some books he’d obviously been poking through. Her throat was dry and filed with an awful lump. “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain, or to apologize. We got a little…carried away.”

  His face changed. “Speak for yourself. I didn’t get carried away—well, I guess I did, but not in the way I think you mean.” He shook his head. “Dammit, Marisa, I can hardly think right now because all I want to do is drag you over here again and tear off your clothes and make love to you.”

  She blinked, and that blaze of heat rushed up to color her cheeks again. “Well, I don’t think that’s a good idea. After all, you broke my sister’s heart, and I don’t want to be nex—” Shit! She stopped herself, clamping her teeth shut, and covered her face with a hand. Just great. Now he knew.

  “Marisa,” Luke said…and then he was there, taking her hand gently. “I need to tell you what happened with Lainey.”

  “You broke her heart,” she reminded him again. “And, dammit Luke, you broke mine too. I thought you were…I thought you were the good guy. I thought she’d found the perfect man, the best husband, someone who’d love her and take care of her, and be there for her. I thought you two were meant to be together. And you left her.” Tears stung her eyes, and she wasn’t certain whether they were for her sister or for herself.

  He drew in a long breath. “The truth is, Lainey didn’t love me, Marisa. And I didn’t love her. We loved the idea of each other, but we fought like cats and dogs. We really had nothing in common except—well—healthy hormones.” He forced a laugh, but when she remained sober, he continued. “She broke up with me every time I turned around, and then she reeled me back in—” He stopped abruptly, stepped back and turned away. “I told her we shouldn’t get married, and she agreed, but she didn’t want to look like a fool, like she was fickle or something…and so I told her I’d take the blame.”

  And you did. In front of the whole town. And she never told me otherwise.

  “But she didn’t know,” he said, his voice suddenly soft and quiet, “that the real reason I couldn’t marry her was because I was…am…in love with her sister.”

  Marisa stilled. Had he really just said…what she thought she heard?

  “No,” she said quietly, ruthlessly quelling the sharp blaze of hope. “That’s just silly. That’s just—you’re just trying to get me into bed. Why on earth would you want a boring, bookish loner like me when you had Lainey? You don’t have to woo me into bed, Luke—in case you can’t tell, I’m more than happy to go there. Just…you don’t need to lie about it, or try and make me feel better about it. I—”

  “Whoa.” His hands whipped up, palms out, to stop her. “What the feck are you talking about? You think I’m saying this—that I’m spilling my guts to you after six years—just so I can get you into bed?” His eyes were a fierce, bright blue, and he seemed so stiff she thought he might snap into pieces.

  “Well, I…it seems…well, you know how it is in books and movies when a guy and a girl are on a mission together and they become attracted to each other? They sort of seize the moment and jump into bed because of all the adrenaline and…”

  He was shaking his head. “Didn’t you hear what I said? Six years—probably closer to seven—I’ve been wanting…this. You.” Now it was his turn to put space between them. His expression turned blank. “But if…well, dammit, Marisa, if you don’t want me, if you were just playing along tonight, then tell me so I can haul my ass out of here and stop making a fool—”

  She practically leapt into his arms.

  He staggered a little, then, laughing, covered her mouth with his as he pulled her close and tight. “Thank God,” he murmured against her. “Thank God.”

  She didn’t hear much more of what he said after that—and there was more, against her skin, her mouth, into her hair—because there also was a lot of clothes being torn off, accompanied by sighs and satisfied groans as their bare bodies pressed against each other, and were touched, teased, stroked…

  She tried not to feel too exposed when he looked down at her naked self settled on the small bed. After all, he’d seen everything of Lainey and he still wanted Marisa…but there was a little twinge. Because she wasn’t as slende
r and curvy and lush and—

  “Stop it,” he said, pausing with one hand cupping her breast.

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop comparing yourself to Lainey. Trust me, I’ve done my share of that and, my love, you’ve always come out the winner.” And then he bent to kiss her tight, straining nipple, sliding his sleek, hot tongue around the tip and creating strong, sharp waves of pleasure that undulated through her belly and lower.

  Marisa sighed and gave herself up to the moment: to the slide of warm, hair-roughened skin against hers, the bulge of muscle beneath her hands as he shifted, and the slick, glorious sensation as he slid inside with a low sigh.

  “I’m so glad I came here and asked you for help,” he murmured, moving against her.

  “I thought if I ever saw you again, I’d…oh!…kill…you,” she replied with a delighted little gasp. “That’s…oh, Luke, that’s…mmm…”

  “You are killing me,” he whispered, his voice tight and his breath warm against her temple, “but it’s going to be the best l’ petite morte I’ve ever…had…” And as she arched and shuddered beneath him, he smiled into her hair and found the little death.

  * * *

  Later…a significant amount of time later, after they’d basked in the safety of the secret room, Marisa sat up and looked down at Luke.

  His blue eyes opened, clear and aware, and she knew he hadn’t been sleeping either.

  “So…what now?” she asked, fighting to hide the little bit of trepidation that sneaked up inside her. “You said you stole something from Ian Marck. A photograph?”

  He nodded, and to her surprise (and delight, for he was utterly beautiful in his nakedness) he got up and walked over to dig through his pack. “What do you make of this? I’m going to bring it to Envy, to the Waxnickis. I’m not sure why it’s important, but Marck carried it with him all the time. And he was not happy when he realized I’d stolen it.”

  She took the picture. There were three women in it. A fourth person, along with most of what must have been their names printed under each one, was mostly obliterated by the way the photograph had been torn in half.