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I kicked off my old green Converse and stretched out on the bed, resting after my long day of travel and the stress of Ryu's kamikaze driving. But the call to snoop still rang in my ears and—after listening for a moment to make sure Ryu wasn't sneaking up on me—I opened the drawer of the right-hand nightstand. Which contained four long silk scarves and a silk blindfold, still sporting their store tags. I snorted in glee as the sight of the black silk both tickled my funny bone and tinkled my ivories. The vampire had a thing about tying me up, and while I definitely wasn't complaining, I did keep threatening to go Freud on him. After all, I wasn't entirely sure he was kidding when he said that one day he wasn't going to let me go.
But so far, every time I got him on the couch, we ended up having sex. It didn't take a doctorate in psychology to diagnose the both of us with impulse-control issues. We were still like kids in a candy store with one another, and I loved it.
Besides the lamp on the other table was one of those electronic picture frames that showed digital images. I flicked it on, and to my astonishment, there I was: sticking my tongue out at the camera from the steps of the Notre-Dame de Québec basilica cathedral. The next picture was of Ryu and me, heads nestled together, grinning. Then there was a beautiful black-and-white photo of a woman sleeping, her naked back to the camera, a sheet draped over her hips to protect her modesty. After a second I realized it was me, and I reached out to turn off the frame. I felt uncomfortable for some reason, even though they were pictures of me that—with the exception of the one where I was asleep—I knew had been taken. I blinked at the frame for a second before reaching for the drawer of the second nightstand.
The other drawer was empty except for random detritus, like a broken watch. Seeing Ryu's junk drawer was the first indication that a real person lived here and not just a rogue gigolo.
I eased the drawer shut and lay back on the pillows, smiling. It felt good to be here, to see how Ryu lived when I wasn't around. Turning my head to nuzzle into the pillow beneath me, which smelled deliciously of Ryu, I rolled over to lie on my side. Then I reached toward the nightstand to angle the clock so I could see what time it was. In doing so, I jostled the old-fashioned rotary telephone standing bulky and proud on the table, revealing a nondescript address book hidden beneath it.
It was black. I told myself that this scenario was way too fucking clichéd. There was no way that thing was Ryu's “little black book. ”
My heart sinking, and my hands suddenly trembling, I reached for it.
Don't do it, Jane, my brain warned me sagely. You're not going to like what you see.
But I could no more not look at what was in that book than I could resist rubbernecking at a car accident.
The contents of the book were laid out in Ryu's neat, professional handwriting. There were names and phone numbers, as I knew there would be. And there was even a vampire version of the sort of sexual rating system a human male might use. Instead of a gal's abilities in the sack, however, Ryu's system for evaluating a woman involved her vulnerability to glamour (some humans were more resistant than others), the amount of elemental essence in her blood (low, medium, or high), and her blood type.
I closed my eyes, letting the book flop forward onto my chest.
Dear gods, I thought. Am I in here?
I once again raised the book and, with trembling fingers, searched back toward T. While there were quite a few entries, there was no Jane True listed. Just to be on the safe side, I searched under J as well. I wasn't listed there, either.
I shut the book and stuck it back under Ryu's phone. Suddenly cold, I burrowed under Ryu's black satin duvet, curling up in a fetal position.
There hadn't been anything I didn't know in that book, but seeing it all laid out like that made Ryu's existence so much more real than it had been. I was just thankful I hadn't found my own name among all the others.
That list of names is no different from that drawer of takeout menus in his kitchen, I realized. I didn't know if that idea made me feel better or worse.
I could still hear the murmur of Ryu's voice downstairs. Keeping my eyes closed, I let the warmth from Ryu's bed seep into my skin, even though my heart still felt chilled. I wished I could just pass out, but I wasn't a napper. I was tired from traveling all day and getting up so early and having swum so late. Not to mention that, at that moment, I would give anything for the sweet oblivion of sleep to take me away from my frenzied thoughts.
Ironically, the last thing I remembered thinking was that I really wished I was someone who could sleep in the day time…
I tried to swat away the mouse climbing my stomach, but it persevered. And then the mouse began to take my shirt with it, and I suddenly realized that I was no longer in Rockabill, in my childhood bed of white wood and pristine cotton sheets, but in a black silk boudoir of vampiric possibilities.
And said vampire was looming over me, running his finger up the soft curve of my sleeping belly, pulling my T-shirt up over my breasts. His warm tongue found my navel, and then traced its way north, dragging me with it into full awareness. My nipples waved hello at him as he pulled down the cups of my bra. Graciously, Ryu returned their salutation by suckling each in its turn, leaving me gasping.
“… so much better than an alarm clock,” I mumbled, as my brain struggled to keep pace with my body.
Ryu's mouth released my suddenly heaving bosoms and he snuggled close, his lips against my ear.
“Did you have a nice nap?” he purred.
“Mmm,” was all I could think to say in response, burrowing sideways into his hard chest. “How long was I asleep?”
“Two hours,” he said. “You were too sweet to wake. ”
“Wow, sorry. I never nap like that. You should have gotten me up. ”
He did his best to chuckle, but because it was Ryu, he sounded a bit like a braying donkey. I instantly melted—my lover's laugh was the only nonsuave thing about him and I adored it. Then I thought of the little black book, waiting like a time bomb beneath the phone next to me, and my stomach sank.
“I want you well rested for this evening, Miss True,” Ryu said archly. I focused my gaze on his lovely mouth, reminding myself that I knew what he was, I was pretty sure I knew what we were, and I knew that it wasn't fair of me to freak out for him feeding. It would be like freaking out on a diabetic for injecting himself with insulin.
Except insulin doesn't talk back, my inner cynic reminded me in her driest voice.
I shushed my passive-aggressive streak, reminding myself that I had two choices: I could either confront Ryu and have a talk I wasn't sure I wanted to have, or I could save that conversation for another time. Preferably a time that wasn't Valentine's Day.
Suck it up, buttercup! my libido commanded. It clearly didn't want anything interfering with its romantic weekend.
“And besides, watching you sleep always gets me up…” Ryu said, as if he'd heard my libido's demands. So I tried to pacify both parties by wiggling my hip closer to his groin, just to test, and was not disappointed.
“… although we do have dinner reservations and we both have to get ready. So quit yer wriggling, aargh,” he said, using his pirate voice for the last bit. Ryu gave great pirate and it always made me giggle.
“We can't push the reservations back?” I asked, refusing to cease wiggling. Having Ryu teasing me, being sexy and silly, made me forget everything else, even that damned book.
“No, sorry…” Ryu looked pained. “I managed to get us a table at the one restaurant in Boston that even I am intimidated by. It's not only the place to be seen at the moment but it's also run by a gorgon, who, quite frankly, scares the shit out of me. So cease and desist, woman. ” I neither ceased nor desisted. When Ryu finally realized I was not going to give him a break, he pinned my hip down with his hand using but a fraction of his preternatural strength. I shivered; I loved it when he went all alpha on me.
“Maybe a little aperitif?” I whispered, my voice soft even to my own ears.
Ryu smiled, but it never reached his eyes. He pulled me to him, his mouth meeting mine as his hand again found my breast. His fingers stroked my nipple, then pinched, and my whole body tightened in response.
“Minx…” Ryu purred, as his lips nuzzled into my neck and his hand roved down my belly until he was at the waistband of my jeans. He unbuttoned them slowly, laving my pulse point with his hot tongue. I knew he was “laving” because I'd been reading all about various forms of vampiric “laving”—definitely the word of the day—in my paranormal romance books.
My breath hissed out of my lungs as his hand slipped into my panties to find me already slick with need. He sighed his approval as he made a fist in my underwear, loosening the restraining fabric of my clothing to give him enough room to work.
The man is an artist, I thought, just as he slipped two fingers inside of me and all coherent brain waves ceased.
I was so hot and so ready and Ryu was playing for keeps. Within minutes, I was panting his name, and when he brought his thumb into play, directly on my sweet spot, my back was arching and I was practically screaming and he was biting and then the pleasure was just too much. It was all I could do to ride the waves of sensation that threatened to carry me up out of my body and off to Orgasm Central.
Tracking the Tempest Page 6