by Virna DePaul
He wrapped some longer locks around his hand and bared the nape of her neck, bending down to kiss it.
His lips moved over the sensitive skin with the skill she remembered. Barrett stood riveted to the spot, not wanting him to ever stop. When he got to the back of her ear, he took the lobe in his teeth and nipped. The tiny flash of pain made her hiss. With pleasure.
Nick opened his fingers and released her hair. She shook her head and pushed the tumbling strands back into place, more or less. He rested both big hands on her bare shoulders.
“Look at you,” he said approvingly.
“Big deal. You can’t see a thing what with this towel.”
She inspected him from head to toe. Slouchy athletic pants covered him from just below his taut middle to his ankles. The sleek bulge below the low waistband looked beyond tempting. “Why’d you get dressed?”
“Room service. I ordered for both of us. They came while you were blasting that dryer.”
“We had dinner.”
“Just a little something more. Come on. I’ll show you.” He guided her out with a hand on the small of her back.
Nick was being a gentleman. His hand stayed where it was, not drifting lower to enjoy the softness of her unpantied ass beneath the towel. Which was so not like him.
Barrett willed his hand to move. It didn’t. She was distracted from her frustration by the sight of the room-service table that had been wheeled into the middle of the suite. Immaculate white damask showed off a silver wine cooler, dewy with icy moisture. It held a bottle of very good champagne, wrapped in a white napkin.
Oh wow, she thought. So that’s who he’d been calling. At least, it had been one of the calls he’d made. So he hadn’t interrupted their make-out session as easily as she’d thought. He’d been trying to be romantic … and man, he’d succeeded.
“For now. Or for later,” he clarified. “Whenever you want.”
“Thanks.” Barrett lifted the domed cover of a small dish and saw huge, chocolate-dipped strawberries. Also chilled, also dewy. “Definitely later for all of this,” she said, turning to Nick. “I want you. Now.”
The towel dropped. The athletic pants joined it on the floor. She fell backward on the bed and took him down with her.
The foreplay got wild, way wilder than the shower. In a few minutes, he was kneeling over her, pumping the huge cock he was so proud of because he knew she liked to watch him do it.
He had reason to be proud. His cock was more than twice as long as the width of his palm. He had to move his muscular ass back to do a complete stroke, root to tip. Barrett’s gaze was soft with desire as she watched intently. She curled forward when he stopped for a second, putting her tongue to the swollen head just inside his encircling fingers.
Nick groaned, holding absolutely still as she licked him. Barrett saw no reason to stop. She lifted a hand to caress his balls while she teased him with her tongue. Once more Nick got her by the wrist.
“Whoa. Please. You gotta stop,” he muttered.
She came up, stroking his flat belly and wiping her mouth on the hand that had stroked him between the legs. She’d gotten him way too hot. Nothing hung down. He had to be aching.
Barrett got on her knees and rubbed her body against him, kissing his chest, his small male nipples, and nuzzling his neck while she whispered how much she’d missed him. His touch. His body. His dick—
He knocked her flat. Then stayed over her on all fours and returned the favor, saying things into her ear that had her writhing with anticipation. “I’ve dreamed about you every night for the past year,” he said. “I remember the way you feel. The way you sound. The way you smell and taste. But memories aren’t the same. I want to sink into you, Barrett. I want to drown in your beauty. But first …”
It took three seconds for the condom conversation. The tests, four seconds. All clear. She was on the pill. He didn’t seem to give a good goddamn why.
Barrett positioned his long cock just where she wanted it. And lifted herself to him. But he hesitated. She lowered herself, lifting her knees to cradle his body between them.
“I’m not going to break, Nick. Rock me like you mean it.” She sank her fingers into his thick dark hair and pulled his face to hers for a scorching kiss. Tongues tangled as his hands slipped under her ass. The smooth head of his cock paused just outside her pussy.
One hot touch. Teasing her. Opening her. Then he thrust again and again. She almost screamed with joy. He still knew exactly how to drive her wild. She would never get enough. Not if they lived and loved for a thousand years.
Afterward, however, doubts started to intrude. It’s how it always was with her.
It’s why she’d run from him and why she knew she’d run from him again.
“You’re safe with me,” he said from where he lay spooned behind her, his arms wrapped around her so one hand cupped her breast and the other her hip.
“Am I?” she whispered, belying the fact she’d felt exactly that when she’d been in his arms. Now she knew there was a distinction to be made.
Here, now, she was physically safe, and she knew Nick would always do everything in his power to keep her that way. While she’d never be emotionally safe with him, she still craved what he was doing. The warm, strong, male hand on her skin took away the lingering taint of Joseph Powell’s chilly touch.
Barrett relaxed under Nick’s stroking hand. After a while, she fell into a dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER
SIX
The soft ringing of the phone in his suite drew Vladimir back into the room. He was dressed now, in a silk robe worn open over flowing pants beneath. Tamsin had been quite thorough about licking him clean after his orgasm. There had been no need for a postcoital shower.
He looked toward the bedroom to make sure she was asleep. Tamsin lay on her side with her back to him, her outline a sweeping curve that narrowed at the waist and flowed up again to her hips. He smiled at the sight of her bare behind, still rosy from the spanking she’d begged for. He was half tempted to tongue her awake and make her come for a third time. But he picked up the receiver.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Ouspensky?” The male voice was deferential. Gil Mansfield was a former U.S. soldier and turned vampire who’d decided he had better things to do than take orders from the FBI. A mutual acquaintance, the same one who’d designed the traveling white room that transported Vladimir’s girls, had “introduced” them several months ago (the introduction had included breaking Mansfield out of federal custody), and since then, even though Mansfield was subject to the odd fit of rage, he knew better than to direct that rage at Vladimir. Even better, he knew how to follow orders, and he’d been surprisingly enterprising when it came to giving Vladimir what he wanted most.
Little did he know that within a relatively short time, he’d be losing his mind and most of his flesh, all compliments of the experimental drugs given to him by the FBI.
“What is it?” Vlad replied.
“I just wanted to let you know that the merchandise is in transit.”
“Have there been any problems?”
The other man laughed. “Nope. None. I monitored her on the webcam all the way down. I can stream it live if you want.”
“How interesting. Please do.” Vladimir provided the man with the necessary contact information and opened his laptop, settling down on the couch.
In a few minutes, he downloaded a video feed of a white room that rocked with the motion of the highway traveled by the trailer carrying it and the captive girl inside.
He knew she would see only his eyes. But she would clearly hear his voice. It was important to establish control gradually, teach her to depend on him. But without harming her in any way. Delicate goods, this one. He searched his mind for her name. It would be changed, of course.
Jane Small. That was it.
How fitting. She was a slight thing. Her dress had been ripped at some point but there was no mark on her, not so much as a scratch.
He touched a key, bringing her sweet face into sharp focus.
Either her complexion was naturally pale or her terror had drained it of color. The delicate sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose emphasized its childlike upturn. Her hair was reddish-gold, long and wavy. Despite her ragged attire, the girl had a refined quality about her, as if she had stepped out of a fairy tale and not into the nightmare Vladimir had planned for her. Her intelligent eyes were a dark hazel, her expression as soft and startled as a fawn discovered in its hiding place. Using her fingers—he could see that her unpolished nails had been bitten to the quick—she rubbed her eyes. With particular enjoyment, Vladimir noticed the traces of the tears she’d shed, still visible on her cheeks.
Such innocence. Such fear. She would fetch a high price.
Vladimir pressed the key for a two-way. “Hello, Jane.”
The girl gasped, looking around desperately to see who had spoken. He knew how his deep voice would echo in the smooth-walled room. Suddenly she saw his eyes high above her.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
“We will meet soon enough, my dear.”
She fell silent, pulling the torn dress around herself in a charming attempt at modesty. He knew she was still feeling the effects of the drugs she’d been forced to take to keep her quiet. She seemed dazed. Certainly disoriented.
“Why is—why is everything so round and smooth in here?”
The traveling room had no sharp edges and no angles. Previous versions had resulted in minor injuries to its unwilling occupants as they banged on the walls and tried to climb them. Now the molded furniture was part of the seamless walls.
“Just for you, Jane,” he replied. “What a pretty girl you are. We would like you to arrive unhurt so we have removed all dangers. It seems that you have threatened to cut yourself from time to time in the past. Or was that only a phase brought on by that wanna-be vampire you were seeing? I was told he tried to save you when you were taken. Quite admirable. In any event, you cutting yourself won’t be allowed, you know. You must follow the rules.”
Her eyes widened with terror. No doubt she knew who had betrayed her. “Who told you that?”
“Someone who knows you well.” Vladimir gave a low laugh. He tapped a key that would plunge the white room into darkness. Gradually, of course. She would have plenty of time to crawl into a molded sleeping alcove.
The temperature of the traveling room was comfortably warm. There were no blankets. Not since a desperate abductee had torn a long strip from one and used it to hang herself. The closet rod intended for longer journeys when girls were stripped of their clothing and inspected en route had since been removed, solving that potential problem. The clandestine transports represented a considerable investment of money and time.
Until the transaction was complete, no one was allowed to damage the merchandise—not the abductors, who sometimes got carried away, and not the girls themselves, some of whom, unfortunately, were rather good at self-harm. Hence the warning to Jane.
Of course, once an auction was over and a large sum of cash had changed hands, the purchaser was welcome to do whatever he wanted with his young victim.
No returns. No exchanges. Every sale was final.
Vladimir watched as she stood unsteadily and took a few steps. The trailer truck went around a curve and forced her to sit down. Jane Small was on her way to a whole new life. For as long as it lasted.
“Good night,” he whispered.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Barrett woke up long before Nick did. She made coffee in the in-room coffeemaker, not liking the sour smell. The self-serve packet couldn’t be fresh. And there was only powdered creamer.
Welcome to reality, she told herself. She poured a cup anyway and wandered back into the main room of the suite. The champagne bottle was upside down in the silver cooler. They’d finished that after the final round of unbelievable sex. The strawberries, too. There was still a half of one. The top half. No chocolate. She picked it up by its slender green stem and nibbled the sweet, juicy flesh absently.
This was breakfast. She wanted to be out of here before Nick woke up. She peeked in at him. Snoring like a tiger. Legs apart, pillow in his arms instead of under his head.
Dreaming of her, maybe. Dream on, she told herself. He’d had more women than there were pillows in this hotel.
Still, it had been great, a total release for both of them, multiorgasmic satisfaction, and something like oblivion when they were spent and finished. The homicidal creature that had attacked her had stayed out of her dreams. In one night, Nick Maltese had vanquished the incomprehensible loneliness of a year without him. When it came to sexual healing, he had all the moves.
In the cold light of dawn, she knew that she never wanted to need him for that. Needing him, period, was just plain dangerous. If he helped her find Jane, then great. But she wasn’t setting herself up for heartbreak ever again.
His eyes opened. He’d always had a sixth sense about being watched.
“Hey, angel. What are you doing?” he asked drowsily.
“Drinking coffee. It’s terrible. I gotta go.”
“Where?” He patted the wrinkled sheet beside him. “Come back to bed.”
“Nope,” she said calmly. “Just got a text. There’s an early meeting in D.C.”
Not quite a lie. Carly did like to get them over with before noon. Nick made no reply.
“Taxi’s waiting.”
It would be. She could be dressed and downstairs in five minutes if she skipped a real shower and made do with a wet washcloth instead. He buried his face in the tangled sheets and groaned.
“Call me later.” She wasn’t going to not talk to him.
“Okay.” He yawned hugely and rolled over.
Barrett thought he had fallen asleep by the time she had made herself presentable in the adjoining room and collected the few things she was taking back with her. She went past his bedroom without looking in—and stopped short when she turned. He was standing right in front of the suite door.
Naked. No longer sleepy. And morning-handsome, with dark stubble edging his jaw and adorably scruffy hair.
“Good morning,” she said crisply, reaching around him to open the door.
He didn’t catch her wrist, just stood there. “You look nice.” He smiled encouragingly.
“Don’t get ideas.” She pushed the latch down hard and pulled at the door, bumping it against his bare butt. Nick didn’t budge. He folded his arms across his chest. “And don’t get a hard-on. Think about vampires.”
“Won’t work. You’re too close.”
Barrett stepped back several inches. “Move, Nick. I have to leave.”
They both heard a housekeeping cart rattle down the hall and stop not far away.
“Do you want the maid to see you like this?”
“No.”
He unfolded his arms, standing behind the door as he opened it for her. Barrett moved past him in her gift shop outfit, the rest of her things in the plastic bag meant for guest laundry. She stopped on the sill to get in a parting shot. “Bad enough I have to do the walk of shame.”
“Hold your head high,” he instructed, lightly slapping her on the butt before wrapping his hand around the back of her neck and pulling her in for a kiss.
She’d just started to lose herself in it and in him before he pulled away.
“Be careful, Barrett. And touch base soon.”
Hours later, Barrett had taken a cab to the Atlanta airport, caught a flight to Dulles, and made the meeting at Belladonna where she’d updated Carly on the destruction of her rental car and the “thing” that had attacked her. Now she was in yet another rental car heading to western Maryland.
During the meeting at Belladonna, she’d listened to the discussion of what the other agents were working on. Collette had flown to New York after wrangling an invite to a board meeting at a big pharmaceutical company, hoping to spin that into an insider’s look into
their blood-bank subsidiary. Ty and Ana were doing all right, according to Peter, but weren’t ready to appear at the meeting, even though Ana’s turning process was nearly completed. Barrett had kept quiet until the end. She had said nothing about the attack on the mountain. Just that she’d talked to Nick about Jane. All preliminary. Nothing to report.
Only Justine had looked hard at Barrett’s atypical attire. But she hadn’t commented on it. For a former exotic dancer who liked to obsess over clothes and shoes and hair, it was a rare example of tactfulness, for which Barrett had been grateful.
She really hadn’t had anything to report that would convince Carly the case was a worthwhile use of Belladonna’s resources and time. There still was nothing specific that linked Jane to the original mission: taking down vampires that sexually enslaved underage girls.
But Powell’s involvement aside, something had told her from the second she’d stared into Jane’s frightened eyes that there was a connection. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel.
Nick hadn’t challenged her on that. She knew he wouldn’t have offered to help otherwise. He believed in intuition. His own and hers.
He’d listened. Offered some good advice. She couldn’t expect him to drop everything and ride to the rescue with banners flying. Even though he’d done it for those two girls and their mother. What had he said at the time? That it was a miracle everything had gone off without a hitch.
One miracle, once in a lifetime. Maybe that was all anyone got.
She reached toward the dashboard console, scanning radio stations for something to listen to. She hummed along with a forgettable song, her mind elsewhere. The western section of the Beltway had much less traffic than the rest of it. But she knew from experience how easy it was to zone out and go in a giant circle, ending up where she’d started, crawling along in the usual jams to I-95 north and south.
She wondered what Nick was up to. He hadn’t gotten around to telling her anything more about what he was doing on the mountain or why he had to be so isolated. She supposed that wasn’t unusual. As he’d said, he’d tell her what was relevant, and apparently his work wasn’t relevant to her or Jane’s situation.