by Kallysten
"There's something to be said for vampire stamina."
He chuckled. “It helps when your partner is inspiring."
Grace couldn't recall anyone ever calling her inspiring, but as much as the compliment pleased her, it was out of place.
"Who said the scene was over?” she chided, and lightly tapped her hand to his chest.
He sobered down at once. “I apologize."
"I'll have to punish you.” The urge to yawn took her too fast for her to cover her mouth. “Next time."
"Yes, Mistress Red."
With a quiet groan at being sore in all the right places, she sat up on the bed and looked at Ray. He seemed as relaxed and contented as a big, lazy cat—and his grin was only missing a few yellow feathers. She realized at his small smile that she had all but promised there would be a next time. She hadn't given it much thought until that moment, but she wouldn't be upset if there was.
"We're done,” she said, feeling a little silly at the formality in her own voice. “I'll grab a shower before leaving. Where's your bathroom?"
"First door on the left. Towels are beneath the sink. Do you need someone to scrub your back?"
The offer was tempting, but she declined. She had told Laura she would pick her up before dinner. Inviting Ray to share her shower would have probably led to other things, which would only make her late. It didn't matter that these other things were very appealing as they played out in her mind while she cleaned up, or that Ray was a wonderful submissive and lover. She had to go.
She was still trying to convince herself when the ringing of a phone startled her. It sounded like hers. She hurried out of the bathroom, wrapping a towel around herself, but realized the ringing came from the bedroom rather than the living room, where she had left her bag and cell phone. Stepping back inside the bedroom, she found Ray lying on his stomach on the bed and staring at the ringing phone he held in front of him.
"Why don't you answer?"
He jumped, clearly startled by her question, and looked up at her. “Because I don't have anything to say to him right now."
She didn't need to ask whom he was talking about. “Then why don't you shut it off?"
The ringing stopped. Ray looked down at the phone again, his expression unreadable. After a few seconds, the ringing started again. He still didn't answer.
"I don't know,” he said, his eyes back on her as she dried herself and went to pick up her clothes by the desk. “I guess ... I'm curious to see how many times he'll try calling."
She observed him while she got dressed. His attention drifted between her and the phone in his hands. It stopped and started ringing yet again, and Ray seemed both puzzled and happy. He didn't pick up even then, though.
"At the academy, I was taught vampires don't love,” Grace commented. She was buttoning her shirt, but she kept her eyes on Ray and saw him look back at her, puzzled. “The more I watch you miss Owens, the more I wonder if that's true."
She heard the jealousy in her own voice and winced when Ray smiled. He had noticed as well.
"He's my Sire,” he said with a little shrug as though it explained everything.
He shut off the phone with a touch of his thumb and let it drop on the bed. He joined her by the desk just as she was stepping into her shoes. Picking up the notepad and pencil from the floor, he scribbled something in a corner, tore off the page and handed it to Grace.
"I promise to answer if you call me,” he said with a small, awkward smile when she took the drawing from him.
Almost all the way back to her mother's, she wondered if she would call him. Every so often, she glanced at the drawing on the passenger seat, and flashes of their afternoon popped back into her mind. She could still feel his lips, his hands, his skin beneath her fingers. His cock.
Just a block from her mother's townhouse, she stopped at a convenience store, stepping inside just long enough to buy a lighter. Back in the parking lot, she hid behind her open door and burned down the drawing, preserving only the corner where Ray had jotted down his phone number. She didn't know if she would call him, she told herself as she slipped the number in her purse, but if she needed to ask him something about Owens, she'd be able to.
That was probably the lamest excuse with which she had ever tried to fool anyone, let alone herself.
Judging by her mother's knowing smile when she picked up Laura, she wasn't fooling anyone. Or maybe it was the fact that she had forgotten to go home and change out of her tight shirt and tighter leather skirt.
"Did you have a good time?"
Grace kept her eyes on Laura as she put away her color pencils and notebook, and felt herself blush both at the teasing question and at the memory of watching Ray create drawings much less innocent than her daughter's.
"It was all right,” she mumbled, unable to hide a grin.
Caroline laughed, but waited until they had all stepped outside and Laura had climbed into the car before she caught Grace's attention with a touch on her arm. Smiling lightly, she asked, “When are you bringing him home?"
Grace would be damned if she knew what to answer.
Chapter 12
It was late on Sunday evening when Grace stumbled on the local news report by accident while aimlessly going from channel to channel. It was a name that stopped her—MacAlair's.
After the whirlwind of emotions and sensations Grace had been caught in on Saturday, the rest of her weekend had been rather bland. She had thought that Laura's play date with two school friends would keep her busy, but she barely saw the three girls other than welcoming them in and calling them for snacks in the middle of the afternoon. They spent almost the entire time playing in Laura's room, and giggles drifted out every now and then. This laughter alleviated Grace's fears. Despite being a sweet child, Laura did not make friends easily. Grace had been worried when she had pulled her daughter out of her old school to move to a new town, but she seemed to have adapted well to the change. Laura was in bed now, and Grace sat up on her sofa and leaned forward so she would catch every word without needing to raise the volume of the television.
"Today's funeral for the lobbyist and former councilwoman was well attended,” the newscaster read in a mournful tone. “The entire town council presented its respects to MacAlair, forty-two, and honored her dedication to keeping Blackwood Falls and its citizens safe. Let's listen to a speech she gave two weeks before her death when legislation she had worked to introduce in the town's statutes was repealed."
A clip of MacAlair standing in front of the town hall replaced the images of the funeral. Dressed in a professional suit, she couldn't have been more different from the image that popped into Grace's mind whenever she thought of her. The only hint of her Domme persona was the strength and confidence with which she spoke, chastising the council members who hadn't had the nerve or vision to impose further restrictions on the town's vampires.
"Dorothy MacAlair had started taking her fight to Washington,” the reporter said as a still frame of MacAlair popped on the screen next to a live shot of the studio. “But not everyone shared her views, and one of her opponents, a vampire, took her life a few days before she could address Congress. The president of the town council—"
Grace thumbed the television off. So far, she'd tried to find MacAlair's killer by looking for a vampire involved in BDSM, thinking her death had to have been related to a scene that had turned wrong. Listening to that report, however, she was wondering if she should have followed the hunch she had had at the club when Ray had told her of the MacAlair he knew.
She thought about it until she fell asleep that night, and in the morning it seemed more and more likely that the murder had had political roots. She arrived at the agency before Hugo and did some research online while waiting for him, trying to figure out who had been MacAlair's closest allies—and more importantly, who had opposed her. By the time Hugo arrived by eleven, she had two lists of very different length; in appearances at least, more people had supported MacAlair's ideas
than rejected them. Maybe they would know of vampires who might have threatened her.
"I spent two nights out,” Hugo groused as he limped in, forgoing greetings as was usual for him. “Not a beep on the radar. I showed that portrait in every single bar in town. Got three people saying they recognized him, but none of them saw him recently. And no one ever saw him with MacAlair."
He dropped his leather bag on his desk and ambled to the back of the room where Grace had put a pot of coffee to brew. He helped himself and drained a full mug before filling it again and coming back to his desk. “He's the only vamp in her address book that we can't verify an alibi for.” His face showed relief as he sat down. The chair creaked when he leaned back. “He's our best guess at this point. We'll just have to hope he's stupid enough to come back. And we'll send a wanted notice to the Central Enforcing Agency in case he isn't."
Doing so was as good as branding him a known killer, therefore authorizing any Special Enforcer who came across him to kill him without warning. Grace didn't care all that much about Owens, and she wouldn't object if he was gone from Ray's life for good, but she couldn't let Hugo condemn a vampire to death if there was a chance he was innocent. It went against the oath she had taken when graduating from the academy.
"Before we get the C.E.A. involved, I'd like to try a new lead,” she said, putting the confidence into her words that Hugo had praised when she had seen him last.
He arched an eyebrow at her over his coffee mug. “New lead? What lead?"
"MacAlair seemed rather invested in having anti-vamps laws passed, so I'm thinking a political motive might be worth looking into."
Hugo's small snort told her what he thought of her idea, before he elaborated, “Motives don't matter in our line of work, kiddo. Leave that to the police."
Grace had to struggle not to snap at him. For the first time since she had started working with Hugo, his manners irritated her.
"You said yourself the police won't touch a vamp case.” She tried to keep her voice calm and quiet, and a hard edge crept into it. She thought she had sounded a bit like this when Ray had broken her rules on purpose two days before. “Our job is to find the vamp who did it, not the one that's most likely to have done it."
The look Hugo gave her hinted he pitied her. “Give it a few years and you might feel different. But if you want to waste your time until then...” He shrugged. “Be my guest. Just don't be too disappointed when you don't find anything."
Not trusting herself to answer politely to what was, after all, permission to investigate as she pleased, she nodded and returned to her research. As she worked, however, her frustration and annoyance turned into that familiar need to be in total control of the situation. For years, she had had no outlet for that need other than compulsively rearranging furniture and redecorating her home. Now, though, things were different. She had tried not to think too much about Ray since she had left him, so she could get some perspective on what had happened. By the time she was ready to take her lunch break, she had enough perspective to last her a few years.
As she did most days, she picked up a sub sandwich at a small deli down on the corner, then hurried back through the rain to eat in the back room of the agency. Her first phone call was to her mother; Caroline had plans for the evening, but she was free the next night. She called Ray next, only realizing after the first tone that calling him at this hour of the day was the same as calling a human in the middle of the night. He answered quickly, however, his words muffled as though by a pillow.
"'Llo?"
"Is that how you answer the phone, Ray?"
In her mind's eye, she could see his sleepy eyes open wide, could see him sit up on his bed, instantly awake, alert, and hard.
"I apologize, Mistress Red.” There was no trace of sleep left in his voice.
"I'll forgive you, this time. I suppose I called a bit early. Listen carefully now. I'll come by tomorrow night, a little before nightfall. We'll go to Carte Blanche together. You are not to touch yourself until then, and I want you to dress to impress me. Understood?"
"Yes, Mistress."
Grace was grinning when she hung up the phone. If Ray hadn't been hard before, he definitely was now.
* * * *
As much as Ray hated the sound of rain, he did enjoy the opportunity it gave him to go out during the day, safe from the sun as long as the cloud cover was opaque enough. In his first few months as a vampire, he had been terrified of going out even beneath heavy clouds, but his Sire hadn't given him much of a choice, dragging him outside on every possible occasion. The fear had receded, and he did not hesitate anymore. Even if the cloud cover did break, Keller's car had tinted windows that filtered indirect sunlight, and heavy blankets were always in the back seat. Once or twice, Ray had curled beneath them, waiting for night to fall. It was part of the hazard of going out during the day, and he accepted that.
That afternoon, however, there didn't seem to be any risk of the rain stopping. Parked up the street from the Special Enforcers’ agency, Ray kept his eyes on the door, waiting to see Grace walk out. When he had driven past the agency earlier, he had caught a glimpse of her inside, so he knew she was there.
He doubted she would be happy to know he was checking out her whereabouts, but she hadn't asked him to stay cloistered at home until she came to him, so he wasn't breaking any rule. The tinted windows would keep her from seeing him if she happened to walk or drive past him.
He had been caught between sleep and wakefulness when she had called, his head burrowed beneath a pillow to block out the sound of the rain. Going back to sleep after her call had proved impossible. How was he supposed to function with that promise of more play to come? He'd never been very patient, and the next night seemed much too far away for his taste.
He had dressed and gone out to buy cigarettes, but by the time he had walked down the five flights of stairs, he'd taken the car with an entirely different destination in mind. Why had she given him rendezvous for the next night? Why wait longer, when they hadn't played since Saturday? Did she have other plans for the evening? And if she did, what kind of plans? Was another submissive getting ready for her even as Ray wondered and kept watch over the agency? He had just realized that he knew very little about her, while she had been gathering tidbits of information about him since their first meeting. It was time to even things out a little.
She didn't come out of the agency until three in the afternoon. Ray let her drive past him, then followed her, making sure to keep a car between them whenever he could. She drove first to Blackwood Falls’ town hall, and spent maybe half an hour inside while Ray tried to imagine what she could be doing in there. After that, she was off to the local television news station. She only was in there for a few minutes, and although Ray was parked too far away to see her face, he saw enough to guess her mood. The way she held herself when she walked back to her car screamed of annoyance.
Another, longer ride took them to the edge of the town, and Ray had to leave more distance between them for fear she would notice she was being followed. When she parked in a driveway, he thought for a moment that it might be her home. Someone greeted her at the door with a handshake, however, and let her out a few minutes later. Ray guessed this had to be work related.
Back in the town, she parked in front of an apartment complex and entered a building. When after half an hour she hadn't reappeared, he started thinking she might be home. She had been wearing casual clothes, and he didn't think she would have gone to someone to play dressed like this. He stayed in the car as the rain finally stopped and night fell, and wondered if she would reappear dressed for play. By ten o'clock, he figured she wouldn't and drove off. He still didn't know why she hadn't offered to play that night. Since he couldn't imagine she'd let him question her, he doubted he'd ever know.
He started driving back to the apartment when his hunger reasserted itself, unpleasantly turning every pedestrian on the sidewalk or passengers in the cars that passed him into pote
ntial meals. He hated when the thirst for blood skewed his perspective on the world, and usually he tried not to let it happen. He hadn't fed since the previous evening, however, and it hadn't been much blood even then. He had better feed right this night; he didn't know if Mistress Red would order blood for him when they went to Carte Blanche the next evening, and he didn't think it was a good idea to play with her when he could think of nothing but blood. However hard the staff scrubbed the playrooms at the club, the scent of blood and sex always remained, exciting or maddening depending on how much Ray had fed.
Two establishments other than Carte Blanche were licensed to serve blood in Blackwood Falls. One was a trendy bar that claimed to be a meeting place for humans and vampires. Ray had been there once. The mirrors lining an entire wall as well as the ceiling had chased him away before he had reached the actual bar. The other place was a true blood bar; the clientele was for the most part composed of vampires, and the few humans who went there only left after having found a vampire to bite them. Sometimes, the bite happened on the premises. Sometimes, they took the vampires home for the night.
All Ray wanted was blood, and he had no desire to leave the bar with anyone, which was why he took a seat on a high stool at the counter. Immediately, the bartender approached, a glass already in hand.
"Evening, Ray."
"Hi, Lucas. Anything good tonight?"
Lucas shrugged. He had once confided that, after years of serving it, all blood now tasted the same to him. “The usual array of animal produce. Human is fresh, though, not frozen."
Fresh meant more expensive, but Ray didn't care about that, not with Keller's credit card in his wallet.
"Human, then. Straight. And warm."
Moments later, he had a tall glass in front of him. His first taste made him sigh in contentment. This was the closest thing to drinking from a neck. He finished the glass fast and ordered again. He sipped on his second drink while looking around the bar to see if anyone he knew was there. It was still early, however, and the room was practically empty save for a couple of vampires Ray didn't know and the human owner of the bar, Terry, whom he did know and didn't like much. He had played with Terry once, a couple of years back, and been put off by his insistence at being bitten even after Ray had declined.