Frostbound (20 page)

She read the message he had posted: “Following Big Red. Back later.”

Big red was Hunter slang for vampires. Red for blood. Max was on a hunt. Or had been. The message was almost two weeks old. Worry clamped around her heart, squeezing painfully.
Why hasn’t he posted since?

A feeling of angst cramped her gut. Some of Belenos’s clan had tried to be nice to her, even if she’d been nothing short of hostile. Slowly, reluctantly, she’d begun to see them as people.
Who were you going after, Max? Did they really deserve it?

It wasn’t the first time she’d had the thought, but it was the clearest. It made her stomach cramp with anxiety.
Don’t kill anyone I know, okay?

She logged out and closed the netbook, letting her hands linger on the cover. Afraid of detection, she never lingered on the site long. It was the only link she had to home, and she wasn’t going to risk losing it—no matter how queasy news from her old life made her feel.

Sliding the netbook back into her bag, she went back to the pile of her belongings on the dresser. No ID, no guns, no money. The police had probably taken the first two, and Lore didn’t know about the cash hidden under her bedroom floorboards. She might have to wait a while before she could safely retrieve it, but there was no question that she’d do it. She’d need money to make a fresh start someplace else.

Talia searched through the clothes, trying to find a complete outfit. It was a man’s selection. Half were practical things—sturdy socks and plain T-shirts, her coat and sturdy boots—and the rest were filmy excerpts from the realm of male fantasy.
How embarrassing
. He’d obviously found her lingerie drawer. In the end, she settled on jeans and a sweater, and headed for the shower.

When she walked out of the bathroom, she heard a rustle and the low murmur of the television. She padded barefoot into the living room. A newspaper scattered the floor. Something that looked like a disemboweled toaster littered the coffee table, half-repaired.

Lore was leaning back on the couch, eyes closed. He looked utterly exhausted. His breath was coming on a slight snore.

Talia’s approach hadn’t wakened him. That wasn’t a surprise. All vampires moved with near silence.

And she was lost in his good looks. He wasn’t pretty, like Joe, but his features were cut cleanly, the bones broad and strong. It was the kind of face that would only improve with age. She wondered who he looked like, his mother or father. Which one had given him the slight cleft in the chin? Which one had passed on that sweep of dark eyelashes?

Where had he gotten that sense of fair play that made him protect a wanted vampire, just in case she was innocent? Yes, he’d held her prisoner, but he hadn’t hurt her, and he’d let her go. Talia was well aware that it could have gone so very differently.

She took a silent step closer to the couch. Whatever sixth sense that made hellhounds good guardians kicked in. Lore started awake, bolting to his feet before he was fully conscious.

Talia held up her hands, palms out. “Easy. It’s just me.”

He relaxed, letting out a huge breath. “Sorry. I dozed off. I’ve been with the pack during the day and up most of the night.”

“Pulling double shifts?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his eyes, sinking back onto the couch. “I dropped by to check on things here.”

Check on me.
Talia felt unaccountably warmed by the idea.

Lore scrubbed his face, as if to wake himself up. “I’ve got my best hounds looking for Belenos, but so far no joy. Last time he came, he hid right under our noses in the Castle. I don’t think he’ll try that one again, but he’ll come up with something equally clever.”

“We’re only guessing that it’s him.”

“That’s why I haven’t raised a general alarm. I want proof before I start a panic.” He looked up. “I got fresh blood. Will that hold you for an hour or two?”

“Uh, great. Thanks. I’ll get some in a minute. And thank you for getting my stuff. You ran a risk to do that—I mean, it’s bad enough you’re hiding me, but you broke into a crime scene to get my toothbrush.”

He looked up, clearly a little pleased with himself. “The biggest risk was going through your closet. I could have been killed by an avalanche of shoes.”

“Yeah, well, a girl needs her footwear.” She sank onto the other end of the couch and looked at the TV.
Scooby-Doo
cartoons. “That your hero?”

“I thought it might inspire my detective skills.”

She couldn’t help a laugh. That earned her a grin. He had the best smile, all white teeth and mischief. Then she noticed how big he was, filling his end of the couch with long, muscled limbs.

Her mouth went dry, her palms prickling with unfocused nerves. She curled up, tucking her feet under her. As always, she was a little cold.

She could feel his body heat even with an arm’s span between them. “What sort of things does an Alpha do for his pack?”

He made a dismissive gesture. “A lot of different things. I deal with the human world on the pack’s behalf. I represent the hounds on the council of nonhumans, so I’m the liaison with other species. We have a business that recycles things, like furniture and mechanical parts, and I run that. I settle disputes and oversee building projects—we’re renovating a lot of the houses we bought to bring them up to code. The pack does a lot of security work in Fairview, and I’m the deputy sheriff, except right now I’m the sheriff in charge.”

No wonder he’s tired
. But she could see he was proud, too. The hounds had come from nothing. Their success owed a lot to his drive. “What’s it like, being in a pack? Do your parents live here?”

Leaning forward, he picked up a piece of the toaster and fiddled with it. “My parents died in the Castle.”

“I’m sorry.”

He gave a slight shrug, universal guy-speak for something he couldn’t or didn’t want to talk about. “Being part of a pack is never being alone, even when you need to be. That’s why I have this place. I get a bit of peace and quiet.”

“You have a lot of responsibilities.”
Understatement of the decade.

“An Alpha is father to his people.” He gave the words an ironic twist. “Seriously, they’re my family. Why wouldn’t I do what I could to help them?”

Talia envied him with a swift, sharp pain. Even with everything his position demanded, it had to be worth it. He wasn’t alone. She looked down, staring at the tweedy pattern of the couch cover.

He passed her a section of the paper. “Fashion column?”

She took it automatically, not sure why he’d offered it. Then she realized it gave her something to hide behind, a safety screen. For a guy—for a
demon-dog
—Lore was surprisingly perceptive. Enough to make a girl self-conscious.

She folded the section back to see the editorial. It
was
her first go-to spot in the paper, though she wasn’t sure how he’d known. Oh, wait. He’d seen her closet. She read the caption under a photo of a woman in a boxy dress. “Wow. The return of shoulder pads. Now, that’s real horror.”

From the corner of her eye, she caught him watching her, his dark eyes intent. She understood that look. He liked what he saw.
Oh, God.

She lowered the paper, her face turning to him with infinite slowness. He was drawing her like a magnet. Like a flower following the sun she’d never see again.

This is insane
. Yet she was doing exactly what her body demanded down to her last cell. Her mind, on the other hand, was numb with shock. Their lips met with a bump, and she realized she’d leaned into the kiss with more hunger than she’d thought.

I kissed him! Where the hell did
that
come from?

But she knew. The moment had been building for the past couple of days. Curiosity. Attraction. A lingering wisp of anger.
Oh, God, he tastes good
. Savory. Spicy.

What began as exploration deepened in seconds. She shifted her weight to her knees so she could get closer to that delicious heat, feel the hard wall of his chest against her body. She braced her arms on his shoulders, leaning in, teasing, tugging at his mouth. She took her time, as if the kiss held a lingering echo of some delectable treat.

His tongue flicked across the bottom of her canine teeth, a quick tease. Her jaws tingled with the urge to bite, egged on by the feel of his broad hand sliding down her ribs, his thumb brushing the edge of her breast. She inhaled sharply, feeling his hand slide beneath her sweater, caressing her back.

Two could play at that. She ran her lips down the angle of his jaw, her tongue flicking the pulse that beat there, hot and salty. At the same time, she worked her fingers underneath the bottom of his T-shirt and began to explore upward, letting her fingers find the hard ridges of muscle that flexed beneath her touch. All that hard work he did paid off. No gym membership required here.

His fingers were playing with the edge of her bra, tracing the lace along the cups, giving feather-light strokes to her nipples. A burning low in her belly made her want to squirm in delicious ways, to explore the hardness beneath the zipper of his jeans. The urge to bite was growing into an ache. Her mouth was watering, already feeling the slide of flesh against her teeth.

Talia pulled away before instinct took over. She whimpered in frustration, her lips still seeking his even as she moved to slide off his lap. Sex and biting were inextricably linked for vampires. Sex also meant undressing, and that meant uncovering her tattoo.

Danger
.

Lore’s eyes met hers, the knowledge of her arousal in his dark gaze. It was a very male look: sure of himself and filled with anticipation. He had only to tighten his grip, and she was his. She felt his muscles flex, the calluses on his wide palms rasping against the soft flesh of her waist. His strength closed around her, pointedly keeping her in place. She could read it in the set of his lips: She would surrender and like it—whenever and as often as he chose.

Talia’s mouth went dry, even as other parts of her grew wet in response to his challenge. Fear and desire were a potent brew, and with him she might enjoy the taste.

Yet he released her, his fingers reluctant to let her go even as she drew away and straightened her sweater.

“I can’t,” she said, her teeth near chattering with the repressed tension in those two words.

The look in his eyes said she would and she could.

“Not yet?” he replied after a long moment. “I’ll take a rain check.” His smile promised everything she’d just shied from—everything dark and dangerous and private.

Rain check? Oh, God, let this drought end
. But how could it? How could it ever?

“I’m not the right kind of girl. You don’t know what you’re getting into,” Talia said, wishing that didn’t sound so clichéd. But it was true.
My daddy will skin you alive. Right after he stakes me, that is.

“I could have a nice hellhound girl if I wanted one.” Lore’s head tilted, and he gave her a mischievous look. “Maybe you’re my walk on the wild side.”

Talia dropped her jaw. Her love life could have been summed up on the side of a cereal box. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I am. A little.”

The phone rang. Lore picked it up. “Hello?”

Talia grabbed a couch cushion, thinking she might smother him with it, but then she heard Perry’s voice, sounding excited. Lore’s expression grew intent.

“What?” he asked. “No, don’t worry. I’ll come to you.”

He hung up the phone and stood up in one gesture.

“What’s going on?” Talia demanded.

When Lore looked down at her, she nearly ducked. Anger and triumph flared in his eyes.

“Perry says he’s got proof that Belenos is here. More surveillance video.”

“That was fast!”

Lore gave a tight smile. “Perry was sure to point out that he knows all the best shortcuts. I’m going to go see what he’s got. Maybe there will be enough of a clue to catch the king.”

 

 

Lore had to go to Perry because the werewolf was stuck at the university. In the midmorning, a power outage had made the pipes freeze and burst, flooding the downstairs computer lab. Plumbers had made it in, but Perry was called to assess the damage and do what he could to rescue his digital babies.

Lore had been able to drive his truck as far as the university’s main parking lot, but going was slow even with chains. Driving in real winter conditions, he’d quickly learned, was a question of concentration and planning. That didn’t mean more than ten percent of Fairview’s residents concentrated or planned. With so many cars spinning out of control, telephone poles and mailboxes were becoming endangered species.

He was almost pathetically grateful when he was able to park and make the rest of the way on four feet. Now he was making good time along the path to the Cambridge Building, taking the deep drifts in long bounds. Lore rounded the corner of the building, catching a blast of damp, bitter wind in the face.

He hoped Perry’s evidence was good. Frankly, Lore was worried that the airports would be cleared and Omara would show up. The queen was overwhelming at the best of times, and Lore’s plate was more than full as it was. With Belenos, rogues, murder, the election and the Prophets knew what else running amok on his watch, a lesser hound would have been babbling by now. Lore was keeping it together, but he was starting to feel punch-drunk.

The strain was clearly affecting his judgment, if he was spending couch time with Talia. What was he doing? He was supposed to be choosing a mate from the pack, not flirting with vampires. Especially vampires—if Errata’s sources were right—with possible slayer connections. He wasn’t going to jump to conclusions, but that would explain why she could fight like a professional and why she was so closed-mouth about her past. But whatever she’d been, things had changed. What the hell had happened to her?