He froze inside the entrance, ignoring the lights, his vision as clear in darkness as light. The room took him by storm, overwhelming him with its homey feeling. Though the furnishings weren’t immense, they were warm. An overstuffed couch and chair. A fireplace. A square coffee table. A blanket over the back of the chair with a book sitting on the arm. Knickknacks and pictures peppered the room with family flavor. The compact kitchen overlooked the main room by way of a tiny open bar that served as a tabletop with a flower arrangement in the center.
Carrie had been ripped from a home, not just an apartment. And if fate hadn’t brought Jolene to Drago, she might have told the same story.
Tightness pressed against his chest and he kicked the door shut, noting two rooms off the main one. He stepped into one of the entryways and surveyed the cluster of stuffed animals on the bed. Carrie’s room, he decided.
The instant he entered the second room, he knew it belonged to Jolene, both from the strong, sexy scent of roses lacing the air, and the neat, perfectly organized décor. A smile touched his lips. He knew her well, had touched her mind, her soul. She liked order and control, just as he did. For the first time in his life, he wondered about sharing it.
Jolene murmured and buried her head in his chest. A rush of tenderness overtook him. He’d never felt such a thing. His family had been killed when he’d been but a baby. He knew nothing of love, nothing of caring for others. Most considered him a coldhearted bastard, at least in human terms, for his ruthless approach to his job.
He settled Jolene on the mattress, easing back the blankets and then maneuvering her beneath them. His brows dipped as he considered her attire, a skimpy dress Catherine had given him to take her home in. She’d be asleep a few more hours. Better she rest comfortably in different clothes. He ground his teeth. Damn it to hell, he shouldn’t care about her comfort. He’d seen males find softness from their mates and end up dead for their stupidity.
But even knowing this, he found himself eying the room, and walking toward a small dresser. Chaotic emotions hammered at his mind. What the hell was wrong with him? This woman had him acting like . . . well, like, a mated vampire. And nothing good could come of it. Nothing but trouble. Her own mother had been killed because of her connection to a Slayer. His parents, too.
He ran a rough hand through his hair and leaned on the wooden dresser, tension thick in his body. He’d have to contact the council and demand to speak to Riker. He needed to know about his daughter and the threats from Alex so they could decide how to move forward—a phone call he dreaded.
Slayers were dominant males, protectors of those who they held dear. Wrestling the mating question between him and Jolene before Riker became involved would be desirable. Unfortunately, Drago didn’t have the luxury of time. Not with Alex breathing down his throat.
He damn sure wasn’t going to tell Riker all that had transpired at Purple Magic. Selective information is all the Slayer father would hear. Enough to save Jolene’s life.
***
“No,” Jolene murmured, clinging to the darkness of peaceful sleep. “I . . . no. I don’t want to wake up.”
“It’s time,” a male voice said. A familiar voice, both soft and seductive. It slipped inside her dream state and become a part of it. For a moment . . . then reality hit.
Jolene rocketed to a sitting position, her eyes catching midair with the deep, dark stare of Drago. “Where am I?” Her gaze traveled the room, frantic. She reached for memories and struggled. Shadowy images were all she could make out. Her gaze darted around the room. Her room. She was in her bedroom. At least a familiar place. Only, Drago being in her bedroom—this she didn’t understand.
She looked down to find herself wearing a T-shirt and boxers. “I don’t even remember putting this on.”
“The longer you’re awake, the more you will remember.” He stared at her, his eyes like dark coals. Lonely eyes, she realized. So damn lonely. “I brought you home last night.”
She shook her head, trying to get rid of the clouds cloaking her memories. “See, this is insane. I don’t even remember telling you where I live. Nothing. I remember nothing.” But a flash of their naked bodies pressed close made her breath catch in her throat. She diverted her gaze from his and clenched the sheet. “Oh God.” She couldn’t quite fully bring the details to mind, but they’d done things together. Intimate, erotic things. “Okay. I remember a little.”
“The safest way to get you out of Purple Magic was to put you in a deep sleep. Almost like a coma. I didn’t want to risk anyone getting into your head and deciding that your leaving the club was a risk.” He pushed to his feet. “Coffee is a stimulant. I’ll make some. That’ll help you clear the cobwebs.”
If his making coffee would give her a moment alone to gather her wits, then so be it. “Coffee sounds like a good idea.”
Drago gave her a curt nod. “Coffee coming up.”
He turned to leave, and Jolene followed his movement. A blue T-shirt clung to broad shoulders and a muscular back. Faded jeans molded strong legs and hugged a tight, incredibly nice ass. Boots scraped her hardwood floor as he exited the room. Good gosh, the man was gloriously hot.
She pressed two fingers to her forehead and forced herself to think, to pierce through the haze that filled her mind, but found it difficult. Patience not being her strength, Jolene decided to follow Drago and ask questions.
Shoving aside the blanket, she darted toward the closet, yanking a robe from the hook inside the door. She shoved her arms inside it and tied the knot around her waist.
At that moment, Drago walked back into the room, his big body filling the doorway, his head almost touching the top. She’d only known one man that big and that was her father.
He raised the cup. “I forgot to ask if you wanted cream or sugar?”
How crazy was this? A Slayer, a “monster” to many in the vampire world, was asking what she wanted in her coffee—the coffee he was making for her in her very own kitchen.
“Cream,” she said, touched by the willingness of this warrior male to tend to her needs. Her first meeting with him, he’d come off uncaring and brutal. Now, she knew why she’d been drawn to him despite the hard shell. Because that shell covered a softer, sweeter one. “I like cream.”
His gaze dropped, sliding over her body and taking in her robe. She felt all warm and aware, like she could melt at any moment. When his eyes lifted, he turned to leave, but not before she noted the hint of amusement in his face.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded, following in his footsteps, images playing in her head, becoming clearer by the minute. Images that warmed her cheeks, and then her body. Flashes of her naked body pressed intimately to Drago’s, of her crying out his name in pleasure. No wonder the man was amused over her covering herself. He’d already done a personal inspection of what the robe covered.
She took a minute inside the entryway of her tiny kitchen to gather her wits and consider the intensity of her attraction to Drago. There was more than sex between them. Watching him open a cabinet and search around a bit, she felt he belonged here, a part of her world. Felt a familiarity to him that expanded beyond their short time together. Is this how her father had made her mother feel?
Drago abandoned the cabinet and opened the fridge. “Is this where I would find cream?” he asked, not looking at her, but clearly knowing she was there.
“Yes. Sorry. I should have mentioned that. In the door.” Shoving her hair behind her ear, she realized her hand trembled ever so slightly. Even her knees felt a bit wobbly. Maybe she needed food. “Drago?”
Cutting her a sideways glance and setting the creamer on the counter, he turned to give her his full attention. And then he did the most remarkable thing. He answered the question she hadn’t even asked, and she knew he hadn’t entered her mind. She would have felt him there.
“Your memories are intact,” he said softly. “I promise. You’ll remember everything.”
If only she could be certain. �
�I’ve lost hours of my life, and I still don’t have Carrie home with me.”
Drago stared at her a moment, his expression indecipherable, but she felt his concern. And it mattered. It mattered in a big way. She didn’t want it to matter. He was a Slayer. A vampire who’d be gone in the blink of an eye.
He filled her cup, added cream and brought it to her, taking her hand in his and sliding the mug inside it. “If you will sit down, drink your coffee and give yourself some time to think, it’ll come back to you.”
His touch was like rocket fuel in her blood. Awareness rushed through her body just as memories flooded her mind with dangerously sexy images. Of his taste. His touch. The perfect feel of his body pressed to hers. Reeling from it all, she took a step backward and his hand, thankfully, fell away. Needing something to do, anything, she brought the cup to her lips. The coffee was warm. She was hot. She gulped it, praying the caffeine would help her clear her fuzzy thoughts. Drago brought the pot to her and she held the mug out for a refill.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Why don’t we go sit?” he urged, his voice too calming, too gentle for his dark, almost menacing exterior.
Her heart beat like a drum in her chest as Jolene turned in silent agreement, wondering again, why she felt so close to Drago. Regardless of what might have happened at Purple Magic, they had only met a short time ago.
Settling onto the single chair in the living room, she intentionally put space between herself and Drago, concluding her potent attraction to him indicated distance to be wise.
Drago claimed a spot on the couch, still close to her, giving her space, but with limits. He could still reach out and touch her, still lean his leg a bit and brush it against hers. She found herself wishing for that contact. She damn near ached for it.
“You saved me from Alex, didn’t you?” she asked, thinking back to the prior night.
His eyes flashed, his response fast and hard. “I wasn’t about to allow Alex to touch you.”
The hint of possessiveness in his words surprised her, and shockingly, warmed her inside out. She’d never wanted a man to try to stake a claim on her, always valued her independence. But his words, his demeanor, didn’t offend her as they would with another. They seduced and soothed.
“Thank you,” she said. “I went there prepared to do anything to save Carrie, but when it came down to it, I didn’t want Alex, or any of those people to touch me.” Emotion welled inside. “I feel I failed her. I couldn’t have let Alex touch me.”
“You shouldn’t have gone there,” he said, reprimand in his voice.
She cut him a hard look. “Someone had to save Carrie. I didn’t see you volunteering.”
“I would have saved Carrie.”
“Would have?”
“Will. I always planned to save her. I was undercover. I couldn’t tell you what was going on, and I damn sure wasn’t encouraging you to go to Purple Magic.”
Relief flooded her at his declaration. “Carrie’s alive then?”
He gave a quick nod. “Alex won’t kill her unless she becomes a problem. He uses the women for pleasure. Part of my assignment is to locate the slave camps Alex keeps and rescue the women.”
Slave camps. Sex slave camps. What a horrible place to be. Her heart hammered against her chest, fear taking hold. “How do we know Carrie isn’t a problem and in danger?”
“He considers Carrie leverage.”
Somehow, she knew she wouldn’t like what came next. “Leverage?”
“A Slayer’s daughter is the ultimate conquest to Alex. He wants you, Jolene. And once he decides he wants someone he doesn’t give up. He even tried to have your father killed to ensure he couldn’t come after you.”
Jolene could barely breathe at the thought of her father being dead. Her hands gripped the arms of the chair. She needed reassurance. “My father is okay, right?”
Drago gently eased one of her hands free of the chair. “He’s not only okay, he’s on his way here.”
Jolene’s gaze dropped to their joined hands. “I haven’t seen my father in years,” she murmured, her eyes lifting to his. “After my mother died, he stopped visiting.”
“I’m sure he has reasons.”
“Reasons?” Anger stirred, a product of years of hurt. “What reason could there be to avoid your own daughter?” She tried to jerk her hand away, but he didn’t allow her escape. One second she was in the chair, the next she was sprawled across his lap.
“Let go of me,” she demanded, trying to get up.
He held her with ease. “I can’t do that.”
She struggled. “Drago! Stop!”
His fingers laced into her hair, angling her mouth to his. He kissed her then, and try as she might to resist, she felt her body ease of its own accord, melting with each stroke of his tongue. Tender strokes. Gentle strokes. A kiss meant to calm, to make love. And right now, unsettled and confused as she felt, he was the calm in the middle of a storm. A storm she feared had only just begun to show its fury.
And with that kiss, she found the events of the night before clearly spelled out in her mind. When she found herself resting forehead to forehead with Drago, she admitted as much.
“I remember now,” she whispered, leaning back to look at him, searching his face, trying to understand the meaning of it all. Some things didn’t add up. “You spoke to me through a mental path. I thought vampires could only do that if they were blood relations.”
“Vampires influence humans through a mental path, but communication isn’t possible. With a blood relative, a mental path exists.”
“But you talked to me. I know you talked to me.”
He hesitated. “There is one other bond that allows this communication.” A knock sounded on the door. “That will be your father. Before you answer the door, Jolene—He was distraught when I talked with him. I know it upsets you that he doesn’t visit, but he blames himself for your mother’s death and now he blames himself for Alex targeting you.” The knock sounded again. “You better get it.”
Jolene drew a calming breath. “This is crazy. I’m nervous about seeing my own father.”
Drago kissed her forehead. “That’ll be gone the instant you see him.”
He was right, of course. The knock sounded again, and her father’s voice filled the air. “Jolene!”
“Coming!” she called, and forced herself into action, finding the entranceway in seconds.
She yanked open the door to reveal her father. Tall with dark auburn hair, he looked every bit the mighty Slayer, authority oozing from him as readily as did danger. His attitude of “move or be moved” was as much a part of him as his standard leather pants and leather jacket.
He stepped forward, barely glancing in Drago’s direction, his attention on his daughter. Riker shut the door behind him and then pulled Jolene close, embracing her with the force of a man who’d felt pain. She could barely breathe, her feet dangling off the ground, but Jolene didn’t complain. She’d missed him so much that tears welled in her eyes; she realized how lonely she’d been since the death of her mother, how empty.
“I can’t believe how close I came to losing you,” he whispered in her ear before settling her back and releasing her.
“I’m fine, thanks to Drago,” she said, eyeing Drago, who now stood watching them, tension in his body, in his face, and she wondered why. “I guess Drago explained what’s going on. About my roommate disappearing and all.”
Riker gave Drago a nod. “He did and he told me Alex is after you. Which is exactly why you’re packing a bag and coming with me.”
Jolene shook her head. “I have to get Carrie back.”
“This isn’t a discussion,” Riker countered. “Pack a bag. You’ve got ten minutes.”
Suddenly, Drago stood behind her, and before he even spoke a word, his possessiveness claimed the room. “I’m afraid I can’t let her leave.”
Riker stiffened and Jolene stared at Drago in shock. “You dare to challenge her fath
er?” Riker half growled.
Jolene looked from one Slayer to the other, the room crackling with testosterone, both men trying to make her choices for her. Well, they were both about to learn a lesson. No one decided the who, where, what and when of her life but her.
Not her father. And not Drago.
Eleven
Drago stood toe-to-toe with Riker, his stomach coiled in a tight knot. The minute he’d heard Riker demand Jolene’s departure, Drago knew he could never let that happen. Knew he would never be able to walk away from Jolene. Half human or not, she was his mate.
“She’s not going anywhere,” Drago ground out between his teeth.
Riker spoke with steely words. “I won’t have my daughter used as bait.”
“I won’t leave Carrie, or any of the other women for that matter,” Jolene insisted. “I won’t do it.”
Drago took the opening Jolene gave him, directing the situation away from their mating. He’d prefer to discuss the mating with Jolene before announcing it to her father.
“I’ve spent two years working undercover with Alex,” Drago inserted. “Dozens of women could be lost forever if my cover is blown. Jolene has become a part of that cover.”
Riker’s arms crossed in front of his chest. “Find another way.” His tone held a command.
Drago shackled the heated words he wanted to say. This was Jolene’s father, he reminded himself. “Alex found you once. What makes you think he can’t get to you again?”
Riker ignored the question. “You called me. I’m here now so you can back the hell off. I’ll take care of my daughter.”
“Why should I believe that?” Drago challenged, the threat of Jolene leaving firing his temper again. “She can’t even reach you when she needs you.”
Riker’s eyes turned black as midnight, the air crackling with the depth of his anger. His hands dropped to his sides as if he prepared to put them to use. “Who the hell are you to judge me, Slayer?” He didn’t give him time to respond. “Nobody. Nobody is who you are. I’m taking my daughter with me.”
Purple Magic Page 7