by Helen Harper
‘You seem determined,’ Michael continues, ‘to act as if you’re always on your own. This isn’t the first time you’ve done a runner. Come back. We can help you get through this. How are you surviving? Do you even have a roof over your head?’
There’s a grunt from the other vampire, followed by the ding of metal hitting metal. ‘Got it,’ he says. ‘She’s lucky it didn’t hit any major organs.’
Yeah, yeah. Michael murmurs a thank you as the medic quickly sews me up. I prop myself up on my elbows to watch; I want to make sure he doesn’t fuck it up. Fortunately this obviously isn’t his first time at such manoeuvres because the stitches are small, neat and even. Less than five minutes later, I’m good to go.
The makeshift doctor departs, leaving Michael and me alone. I swing my legs round and sit up. I still feel a bit dizzy but normal service is definitely resuming. Thank goodness.
‘First of all, the last time I did a “runner”, as you call it, you manipulated me into it. Second, I’m coping perfectly well.’ I’m ridiculously glad that he still doesn’t know where I’m living – or that X is helping me out. Even though the Kakos daemon has said he wants to meet Rogu3 and Maria, he has warned me like a damned stuck record that if anyone else finds out about his existence he’ll be forced to destroy them. Michael is very strong and very powerful but he’ll never be a match for someone like X. No one is.
‘You’ve still not been to see O’Shea or your grandfather,’ Michael points out.
‘We had this discussion two nights ago. I don’t see why we need to have it again.’ I sigh. I’m not trying to come across like a petulant child and I know he’s only acting like this because he’s worried about me but I don’t need or want his concern. ‘Please, Michael,’ I say, dropping my defences. ‘Just leave me in peace.’
His face shutters. ‘It seemed like you needed me the other night.’ He throws a pointed look at my wound. ‘You needed me tonight as well.’
I take a deep breath. I can be gracious. ‘Thank you for your help.’ I stand up, wobbling ever so slightly. My eyes harden as I meet his. ‘Now tell me what the fuck is going on with recruitment.’
‘It’s none of your concern.’ He leans down towards me. I pretend not to notice his taut muscles or the whiff of spicy aftershave. ‘Not unless you want to return to the Montserrat Family, that is.’
He knows I don’t; he’s just trying to goad me into another argument so he can avoid the question. ‘It’s every bit my concern,’ I tell him. ‘Do you really think that flinging open your doors and getting more vampires is the answer? The numbers have been capped for centuries! You can’t change all that in a blink of an eye!’
‘I told you that we had a plan for getting rid of Medici.’
I put my hands on my hips. ‘And this is it?’ I demand. ‘Making the rest of the world hate you even more than they already do?’
‘Sacrifices are necessary. We can work on our PR once Medici is out of the way.’
‘Remember what happened with Nicky. If you rush the recruitment process, you have no idea what manner of criminals you might end up with.’
‘I’m not an idiot, Bo. Every precaution is being taken.’
‘Really,’ I say flatly. He’s lying and we both know it. I ball up my fists and resist the urge to grab him and shake him very hard. Then maybe kiss him. No, wait. Not that.
He drops his voice. ‘You’re never even here. How would you know?’
‘How many more are you bringing in?’
‘Enough.’
‘Enough for what? To storm Medici’s citadel and kill most of them in the process? Do they know that you’re recruiting them as nothing more than cannon fodder?’
‘It’s not going to be like that.’
‘You hope!’
‘What else would you have us do? He has superior numbers. Until the remaining four Familes can match him vampire for vampire, we can’t make a move.’
‘You should have done something the first time he stepped out of line,’ I growl.
He reaches out, taking my hands in his and squeezing them gently. ‘You know we couldn’t.’ A muscle jerks in his cheek. ‘But we should have. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.’
My shoulders drop. ‘Have you tried contacting him? He never wanted to change the old traditions. That’s how all this started in the first place. If you talk things out with him then maybe…’
‘We’ve tried.’ His voice is grim. ‘Believe me, we’ve tried.’
‘He’s one damn vampire. Take him out. I’m sure the other Medici bloodguzzlers will fall into place once he’s gone.’
He releases my hands. ‘We’ve tried that too. Why do you think he’s now locked up inside, refusing to come out? We even sent in a human, under guise of recruitment, hoping they could take a shot. Someone who owed us a lot of favours.’
Considering that would be a suicide mission whether it succeeded or not, that would have to be a hell of a lot of a favour. ‘What happened?’
His expression is pained. ‘His dismembered head was sent to us by special delivery.’
I wince. ‘Michael, he must know what you’re doing. He’ll have some kind of plan. He’s not going to let you recruit enough numbers to beat him, he’ll make a move against you long before then.’
‘We’ve been trying to keep it quiet.’
I snort. ‘Not quiet enough.’
‘How did you find out?’
I shrug awkwardly, not willing to drop Matt or Beth in the shit. ‘I heard a few whispers. D’Argneau confirmed them for me.’
‘The lawyer?’ Michael’s eyes glitter angrily.
‘There’s still nothing going on between us,’ I tell him. ‘Not that it’s any of your business if there is.’
‘Of course it’s my business.’ He moves even closer. ‘No matter how hard you try to fight it, you know we have a very special connection.’ He places husky emphasis on the word ‘special’. I swallow. ‘It’s not just because I turned you. It’s not just because you seem to want to fight me every time I make a simple request. You might think you’re too screwed up for a relationship with me, but you don’t understand that you can’t run from me. You can’t run from this. Every time you do, you’ll just end up coming back. We’re meant to be together, Bo. It’s as basic as that. I want you. You want me. What else is there to worry about?’
Warring emotion surges through me. ‘I’m not the same person I used to be. I’ve changed.’
‘I don’t care.’ He lifts up his index finger and trails it down my cheek. ‘Besides, I don’t think you’ve changed as much as you pretend. I see the hardness in you that wasn’t there before but I also still see Bo. You’re still you.’
Goddamnit. Why is he the only person who can pierce my self-protective armour? I scowl. Then I step up on my tiptoes and do exactly what I promised myself I wouldn’t. I kiss him.
For a horrifying moment, he doesn’t react and I think I’ve made a terrible mistake. Then he returns the kiss and pulls me towards him. The heat between our two bodies is searing. I moan involuntarily and he jerks back.
‘Did I hurt you?’
I smile. There’s definitely a wicked tinge to it. ‘No. But I might like it if you did.’ He frowns at me in astonishment. I quickly backtrack to avoid awkward questions and tug at his shirt, pulling it upwards from his waistband to distract him. When I rip it open, revealing his taut stomach and the line of dark hair leading downwards, I think I’m the one who’s distracted. ‘Just don’t stop, Michael, that’s all,’ I breathe. ‘Don’t stop.’
He leans forward and kisses me again. My senses swim. His fingers deftly reach for my own clothes, pulling them off me until I’m completely bared to his hot gaze.
He reaches out and gently touches the lace of my panties. ‘I like these,’ he says with a wicked smile of his own.
‘Get naked,’ I growl.
Michael bows. He steps back, slowly taking off his shirt. His body is exactly the same as I remember it. I take in the w
ell-defined muscles and the edges of the vast angel wings tattoo which curves round from the edge of his shoulders all the way across his broad, rippling back.
He holds the shirt up in the air on one finger and twirls it once before tossing it aside. Tease.
‘Faster.’
He laughs at me. ‘No.’
I hiss through my teeth and snap towards him but he holds me at bay with a single wag of his head. He licks his lips and I forget to breathe.
‘Pleasure is found in anticipation. Be patient, Bo.’
I only just manage to keep myself in check. My heart is thudding rapidly to the tune of the throbbing ache in my loins. Michael undoes the button on his trousers so slowly that it’s painful. I clench my teeth. This is becoming unbearable.
He starts to inch the material down over his narrow hips. I catch a glimpse of silk boxer shorts – in the Montserrat House colour of midnight blue, naturally. I’m not entirely convinced that’s what the founders had in mind when they designated that colour. He reveals a little bit more skin. His erection is breathtakingly obvious.
I’ve had enough of the teasing. Deciding to get my own back, I hook my fingers round the lace of my own underwear and match him, slowly sliding them downwards. I’m rewarded with a sharp intake of breath and his eyes darken with undisguised lust.
‘Bo,’ he groans.
‘What?’ I ask innocently. ‘I thought you wanted to play.’ I push them down an inch further.
A guttural sound emits from deep within his chest and he pounces. At last. He pushes me down on the narrow bed. ‘Are you sure about this?’ he asks, raising his head. A lock of hair falls across his forehead in the sexiest little curl I’ve ever seen.
I answer him by reaching round his waist and wriggling into position. He groans again and, with one swift movement that has me clutching at his sweat-covered back and screaming, plunges inside me.
This is no gentle coupling. I think there’s an animalistic part of both of us that’s begging to be fulfilled. My hips rise to meet his and I moan loudly, not caring who in the Montserrat household might hear me.
‘You were wrong,’ I tell him, taking short gasps as my entire body quivers under his.
He bites my ear sharply. ‘Explain,’ he orders and he thrusts once more.
I smile, knowing I’m reaching the crescendo. ‘Pleasure isn’t found in anticipation. It’s in release.’
He bares his fangs in agreement and slams into me with a hoarse cry. Our bodies shudder in a simultaneous, earth-shattering orgasm that goes on and on and on. When it’s finally over and he relaxes, I feel a deep satisfaction of the sort I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced before.
Michael shifts his weight. ‘Am I too heavy?’
‘You’re perfect.’
There’s a moment of silence. ‘Bo,’ he says, ‘listen, I…’
‘No.’ My voice is too sharp. ‘Don’t. Let’s just enjoy this moment.’
He sighs. I know he’s struggling and I know he wants to talk. I can’t though ‒ not right now. Right now this has to be enough. The rest can come later.
Chapter Ten: Them’s Fighting Words
He sees me out. The vast lobby is conspicuously absent of other vampires; it’s good to be Lord Montserrat. I stretch up on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. The stubble along his jawline is rough and I have to force myself not to rub my cheek against his like a cat would.
‘Do you know anything about a group that uses a tree as their logo?’ I ask, dropping back down and sketching it out in the air.
He frowns at me. ‘No. I can ask around though.’
I shake my head. ‘Don’t worry about it. You’ve got bigger things to worry about. I’ll figure it out.’
‘We could figure it out together.’
I meet his eyes. ‘Will you let me help you figure out Medici?’
He tenses. ‘I can’t. The other Families…’
I roll my eyes. ‘I know, I know.’ I look away. ‘I have to go.’
‘Bo,’ he says, his voice low.
I press my lips together. ‘Mm?’
The expression in his eyes is dark and serious. ‘Don’t be a stranger. I once promised to lock you up and I’m not averse to doing it. Not if it’s for your own good.’
I laugh. ‘I’d like to see you try.’ With an impish grin I head off, trying to ignore him standing there, watching me go.
I’ve got less than an hour before dawn and I shouldn’t have spent all that time with him, whether I’m walking on air right now or not. I’m on a damn clock. I dash down the street at a sprint. I’ve gone less than fifty metres when I halt in my tracks. This is stupid; even with my increased vampiric speed, I can’t run across the city before the sun rises. I could go back and ask Michael for help. Or I could do things my way.
I twist left and head for the first parked car. ‘Sorry,’ I tell it. ‘It’s an emergency.’
The car doesn’t bother answering back until I put my elbow through the driver window. The alarm peals out, echoing across the street and causing a nearby urban fox on its way home to flee for safety. Nobody else stirs. That’s the trouble with car alarms: people hear too many of them. No one is going to get out of their warm bed to investigate.
I clear away the worst of the glass then loop my hand round to unlock it from the inside. It’s an older model, not yet computerised, so it’s simple to hotwire. Less than three minutes later, I’m at the traffic lights.
Foxworthy finished his shift a few hours ago. Taking a chance that he’ll have gone home rather than see out the rest of the wee hours in one of the many twenty-four-hour pubs or clubs, I make another beeline for suburbia but this time towards a different district to Adrian Leeman and the Johnsons.
I park in Foxworthy’s driveway, ignoring the security light that flashes on as I get out of the car. Then I stroll up to his door and thump on it loudly until I hear a noise from inside.
He opens up, bleary-eyed and not particularly pleased to see me. ‘I just got to bed an hour ago,’ he growls. ‘Couldn’t this have waited?’
‘I told you I’d come and find you tonight and I’m a woman of my word.’
‘Don’t you know what time it is?’
I grimace. ‘Actually, I do. That’s why I was hoping I could take shelter in your place for the day. I can’t risk getting caught in sunshine.’
He scratches the stubble on his skin. He’s actually considering refusing me then he steps back and gestures. ‘Fine.’
I don’t move. ‘You need to say the words.’
Sleep is still clouding his logic and for a moment he seems confused. It doesn’t take long for his face to clear, though, and he gives me an irritated bow. ‘You’re invited.’
I smile and step over the threshold. ‘Cheers.’
‘If this reaches the Chief, I’ll be suspended,’ he warns.
I punch him lightly on the arm. ‘Relax. I’m not going to blab.’
Foxworthy shakes his head. ‘There’s a line, Bo. You’re treading dangerously close to it.’
To be honest, I think I crossed it some time ago. I decide it’s probably better not to say that to him so I just smile some more. ‘Got anything to drink?’
We sit down in his kitchen. I’m surprised to see photos of various kids on display on the fridge. He follows my gaze. ‘My grandchildren,’ he explains shortly, as if he’s afraid that I’ll track them down and try to drain them of their young, inexperienced blood.
‘I didn’t even know you had children,’ I comment. ‘Let alone grandchildren.’ He must have started young; I’d say he’s still a fair way off retirement age. I jerk my chin upwards to the first floor. ‘Wife?’
‘Don’t worry, we divorced a long time ago. Married too young.’ He flicks his fingers in a dismissive gesture, as if this is a story he’s sick of telling. ‘Same old mistakes as a million other people.’ He takes a sip of his whisky. ‘You don’t look well, Bo. Been in a fight?’ He asks the question in the same manner that you might enquire ab
out the weather. Foxworthy may once have possessed genuine concern for my well-being but my vigilantism has knocked that out of him. I decide it’s for the best. The last thing a steadfast, straightforward guy like him needs is to be worried about a bloody vampire.
‘It wasn’t a big deal,’ I answer. ‘Although I would like to ask you if you recognise this.’ I stroll over to the kitchen window. It’s cold enough outside that the warmth from the central heating, not to mention our own body heat, has made the windows steam up. Using the tip of my finger, I draw the shape of the tree emblem. It’s not a perfect match but it’s clear enough.
‘What is this? Pictionary? It’s a tree.’
I roll my eyes. ‘It’s used as a symbol for something, some kind of group as far as I can tell. Have you seen it before?’
He purses his lips. ‘It’s not ringing any bells.’ His gaze is far more alert now. ‘Witches?’ he asks, reflecting his quick-witted intelligence. I should have known my focus on their kind wouldn’t go unnoticed. X and Foxworthy actually have a lot in common – not that either of them would thank me for pointing that out. Kakos daemons and members of Her Majesty’s constabulary don’t tend to mix well. Although to be fair, Kakos daemons don’t mix well with anyone.
‘I’m staying away from the witches,’ I answer coolly. ‘And no, I’m pretty sure everyone involved is human.’ It stands to reason. If they hate vampires, they probably hate witches and daemons too.
‘If you want me to check out the database…’
‘That would be helpful. There’s another missing woman called Melissa Greek who might be linked to them too. That might provide more leads.’ I wait for a beat. ‘What would you like in return?’
‘I think I’ve done enough deals with the devil for now. I’ll look it up and let you know if I find anything. It won’t take long.’
I fiddle with a strand of my hair. ‘Thank you. I appreciate it.’
Foxworthy grunts. ‘I won’t be able to keep doing this, you know. Nicholls is already suspicious.’