About a Vampire (17 page)

“Of course not,” he snapped. “I would rather she hadn't fallen on the damned scissors at all. What kind of an idiot runs with scissors?” he asked with sudden fury.

Gia bit her lip, he suspected to keep from laughing, and shook her head. “Well, sadly, she did run with scissors, did fall on them, and you did turn her to save her life when you realized she was your life mate. Now, I suggest you deal with it.”

Justin scowled at her grimly and then snatched up the take-­out bag and his drink from her dresser, where he'd set them on entering and whirled to storm out of her room.

“Deal with it,” he muttered to himself as he stomped downstairs. “Just deal with the fact that you turned a woman you can't have. Nice. Thanks for that, Gia. Very helpful advice.”

“Talking to yourself, Bricker?”

Pausing at the foot of the stairs, he scowled at Dante as the man passed with several jumbo bags of chips and a six-­pack of cola in hand. Scowling, Justin said, “It's more useful than talking to members of the fairer sex.”

“Don't let Gia hear you say that. She'll kick your ass,” Dante warned before disappearing into the living room.

“Too late,” Justin muttered, turning toward the kitchen. “Life has already kicked my ass, and has left precious little for her to have at.”

“Trouble?” Tomasso asked as Justin pushed into the kitchen.

Justin glanced to the big guy, noting that he was folding a dish towel and setting it on the counter. The twins had helped Gia clean, obviously, or perhaps even done it all themselves. He wouldn't have been surprised. It wasn't like she had eaten anything. The pair probably would have felt bad to make her do the cleaning up when they'd eaten every last scrap of food he'd made.

“I gather you overheard what I said to your brother?” Justin asked finally, carrying his sandwich over to put it in the refrigerator for later . . . when he'd regained his appetite.

Tomasso grunted in the affirmative and Justin closed the fridge door with a sigh. “Holly has known her husband all her life. They were childhood friends and sweethearts. She isn't likely to throw him over for me. She hardly knows me.”

“Then maybe she needs to,” Tomasso said mildly as he moved to open the cupboard and began to retrieve the rest of the jumbo-­sized bags of chips inside.

Justin watched him, but his mind was on what he'd said. “You think I should continue to woo her? Let her get to know me? You think she might choose me then?”

“Only one way to find out,” Tomasso said with a shrug. Chips stacked in one beefy arm, he reached into the refrigerator with his free hand and retrieved a six-­pack of soda. “What have you got to lose?”

“Right,” Justin murmured thoughtfully, and then noted what the man had in his arms and said, “Dante already took out chips and pop.”

“Those were for him.” Tomasso moved to the door to the hall. As he pushed through, he added, “These are for me.”

“Oh,” Justin said as he watched the door swing closed. Shaking his head, he turned back toward the table, muttering, “We're going to need to go shopping again.”

He started to sit down at the table, but then paused and moved to the drawer beside the refrigerator to retrieve one of the notepads and pens Jackie kept there. She kept them there for making grocery lists. He wanted it for another list entirely. He was going to make up a list of ways to woo Holly.

Dropping to sit at the kitchen table, he opened the notebook to the first page and wrote, “Battle Strategy.” He then sat back and smiled at what he'd written . . . because this was war. He was fighting for his life mate, and perhaps even his very life . . . and in the battle of the sexes, he was king. There wasn't a woman he had wanted that he hadn't been able to win, and he wanted Holly.

 

Ten

“T
hink sex.”

“What?” Holly gaped at the trio in front of her. It was Saturday morning after the fish debacle. After Justin had left her room, Holly had laid down to rest rather than risk running into him again for a bit, and she'd slept through what little had been left of the night. Now it was morning, they'd all had breakfast and Justin, Dante, and Tomasso had all decided it was time to move ahead with her lessons on how to be an immortal. Apparently, it wasn't a natural thing. One didn't become immortal and simply automatically know how to do everything they needed to know how to do. She'd thought they were ridiculous when they'd said that, until they'd asked her to “get” her fangs out.

She'd laughed at the comment. The way they said it made it sound as if she had them in her pocket. But she'd stopped laughing when they'd insisted and she'd tried, only to realize she hadn't a clue how to “get” them out. Thinking, “Come on, fangs. Pop out of my mouth . . . please . . . pretty please.” Hadn't worked at all. Now they were giving her suggestions.

“Think sex,” Tomasso repeated completely straight-­faced.

“Like the smell of blood when you're hungry, sexual excitement can bring on your fangs,” Justin explained quietly.

“Oh,” she said weakly.

“It's all right,” Dante said quietly. “Just close your eyes and imagine you and your husband in bed.”

Holly blushed furiously at the suggestion, and then shook her head. “I'm not sitting here thinking of sex with the three of you all standing there grinning at me like a bunch of perverts.”

Actually, Justin wasn't grinning at the suggestion, she noticed. If anything, he looked strained, but she didn't take back her words.

Dante nodded as if he'd expected as much and then turned to Bricker. “Kiss her.”

“What?” They both squawked that word together.

“Kiss her,” Dante insisted. “She has to learn to control her fangs. Especially how to put them away.”

“Dante is right,” Gia said from the kitchen door. She'd been up most of the night after the fish incident and apparently was just now rising. Letting the kitchen door close, she moved to join them at the table and pointed out, “Bringing out her fangs is important, but being able to make them recede again is more important. She has to know how to put them away in case they come out of their own volition while she is among mortals. You wouldn't want her standing in a grocery store or a restaurant with her fangs out and not be able to force them away.”

“Exactly,” Dante said with satisfaction. “Kiss her.”

Holly frowned, but then so did Justin. He also glanced to her uncertainly and seeing her expression, shook his head unhappily. “I don't think—­”

“Then I will,” Dante announced and stepped forward.

“The hell you will!” Justin protested, grabbing his arm and hauling him back.

“Then kiss her,” Dante growled. “Bring on her passion and her fangs.”

“Oh, I'm sure that's not really necessary,” Holly began to babble at once when Justin turned grimly toward her. Beginning to back away, she added quickly, “I mean, no offense, but I'm sure he can't bring on my passion. I'm married, and I love my husband, and mummph mmmm mummph—­” The end of her protest was muffled by his mouth when it closed over hers. But it stopped entirely when he took advantage of her attempt at continued denial and sucked one of her flapping lips between his own.

Good Lord, what the hell was he doing? She wondered faintly as his arms slid around her, his hands moving down to cup her behind and urge her up against him. That wasn't kissing. That was . . . oh dear, she thought weakly as his tongue thrust into her mouth and she felt not just a flutter of passion, but an entire damned tsunami of it washing through her body. Dear God, the man was devouring her. He was . . . he was . . .

Not caring what the hell he was, she gave up her thoughts and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck as her mouth opened wider in welcome. Holly had never been kissed like this. James had never kissed her as if his very life depended on it, as if he was desperate to explore every nook and cranny of her lips, teeth and tongue. As if she held the secret to the universe somewhere in her mouth and he was determined to find it with his own. His body was giving off so much heat she felt singed, and there was a hardness growing between them that she was quite sure was not expanding foam someone had shot between their groins—­although she would have understood if they had, and the insulation would have been appreciated. Holly was quite sure she was about to burst into flames down there and the hardness growing between his legs was hot enough to curl her hair.

Tasting blood on her tongue was enough to shock these ridiculous thoughts right out of her head. She'd bitten him, Holly realized and pulled her head back with alarm.

“I'm thorry,” she lisped around the fangs protruding from her jaw, feeling horrible about biting the man in the tongue.

“Good job,” Dante said gruffly and slapped Justin on the shoulder.

He'd still been holding her in his arms, a pained expression on his face, but now eased away from her. He didn't just let her go, though, but turned and walked out of the kitchen.

“Ith he o'ay?” she asked, the words garbled around her fangs. God, it was hard to talk with these darned things out.

“He's fine,” Gia said reassuringly. “He's probably going to rinse his mouth.”

“And take a cold shower,” Dante added with amusement.

“Definitely,” Tomasso agreed, grinning from ear to ear.

Gia gave her cousins a look and then stepped up next to Holly. “Now, let's concentrate on getting your fangs back where they belong. Shall we?”

“I
diot, idiot, idiot,” Justin chanted, banging his head repeatedly against the ceramic tile of the shower wall as cold water poured down over the back of his black T-­shirt and jeans.

Getting undressed before the cold shower he was suffering would have taken too long for him to bother with. Especially since he'd been battling mightily against the insane urge to march right back to the kitchen, pick up Holly, carry her up here to his room, rip off her clothes and ravish her.

He banged his head against the wall again to remove the images that thought brought to mind. What had he been thinking? How had he let those two big buffoons goad him into kissing her? That had been the worst possible thing he could have done at this stage. Now he'd had a taste of what he would lose if he didn't win her over, and . . . dear God, nothing he'd experienced before had prepared him for the way his body had reacted when he'd kissed Holly.

Justin was no virgin. Nor was he an ancient immortal who had given up women ages ago and couldn't remember sex. He'd had more women in the last century than he'd care to admit. And he'd had some damned fine sex too. Hot, sweaty, knock your socks off, unforgettable sex.

And every one of those experiences faded to nothing next to a simple kiss from Holly.

“Holy, fuck a duck,” he muttered, banging his head again. If he'd known . . .

Hell, if he'd known what the others had been experiencing with this wave of immortals finding their life mates . . . well, he might just have kidnapped Marguerite at sword point and demanded she find him his mate. That or blow his own head off with envy.

“Christ on a cracker,” he muttered, slamming his head again. His entire body was still vibrating with his response to their kiss. It was as if the millions of nanos in his body had turned into sparklers and were doing little “Whoopee” dances from his head to his toes.

“Whoop-­dee-­fucking-­doo!” Justin growled, hitting the wall again. How was he supposed to act natural around her after this? How was he supposed to keep his hands off of her? And why the heck wasn't she up here, crawling all over him like flies on shit?

That thought had him growling under his breath with frustration. Holly hadn't seemed as affected by the kiss as him. Sure, she'd kissed him back almost desperately, but the moment she'd tasted a little blood, she'd jumped back with a sort of horror, as if she'd mortally wounded him.

“Screw the blood,” he muttered, banging his head again. She could have bitten his tongue clean off and he wouldn't have stopped kissing her. Who cared? It would grow back, for cripes sake and kissing her was worth losing a lot of body parts over and having to grow them back. Sex with her, though . . . he thought he might risk his life for that. How could they not have told him what he was missing?

“Bastards,” Justin growled, but instead of banging his head again, he turned in the shower and let the cold water hit his front. It certainly hadn't been doing much good on his back. He was still hard as a damned flagpole . . . for all the good that did him. He was a flagpole without a flag, a tent pole without a tent to cover him, a fishing pole without a—­okay not a fishing pole. They were bendy and—­

“And why the hell am I having this conversation in my poor muddled head?” he asked himself with disgust. But the answer was obvious enough. Because he
was
muddled. He was a muddled, horny dog who presently couldn't think of anything but getting Holly naked and planting his flagpole in her sweet wet ground.

“All right, Bricker, old boy. You've lost your ever-­loving mind,” Justin told himself grimly as he took note of his own thoughts. Fortunately, he'd also lost his erection with the shame of spouting such nonsense. Sighing his relief, he turned off the shower and stepped out to drip all over the bathroom floor. A mess he'd have to clean up later, Justin realized. Man, he really was an idiot.

He began to strip off his soaking clothes, removing his T-­shirt first and tossing it back into the shower before setting to work on his jeans. That was a mammoth task. Wet jeans did not come off easily and he struggled with it, banging against the wall repeatedly as he nearly toppled over. Once off, those joined the T-­shirt on the shower floor, then Justin grabbed a towel and quickly dried himself off.

He was in his bedroom, standing in front of the closet, donning a fresh pair of black jeans when a knock sounded at the door.

Snapping the snap, and doing up the zipper, he called, “Yeah?” and wasn't surprised when the door opened.

Gia stuck her head in, glanced around until she spotted him and then seeing him, smiled and stepped into the room. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Justin growled, snatching a fresh T-­shirt off a hangar, and tugging it over his head. “What's going on downstairs?”

“Holly has mastered bringing on and retracting her fangs,” Gia told him with a smile.

“What?” he squawked, stilling with his shirt half on. “Already?”

Gia nodded. “She's a very fast learner, and your kisses helped. All she has to do now is think of you kissing her to make them come out.”

Justin grunted and finished pulling the shirt on, not sure how to take that. Was it good that thoughts of his kisses brought her teeth out? It meant just thinking of or remembering their kiss turned her on. That had to be good, right?

“You even helped her with retracting them,” she added and the amusement in her voice made him suspicious until she added, “She just thinks of your fish dinner and they go away—­Poof!” she said and laughed at his expression. Moving forward, Gia gave him a motherly hug, cooing, “Oh, do not be sad. She appreciated the effort. And you definitely got her attention with that kiss.”

“Did I?” he asked dubiously.

“Of course, you did,” she assured him.

“Well, she sure pulled away in a hurry,” Justin complained.

“She thought she'd hurt you,” Gia said solemnly. She hesitated, and then added, “Of course, now she feels just horrible and her guilt is twofold.”

“Twofold?” he asked with a frown.

Gia nodded. “She feels bad because she fears she hurt you, and she is experiencing a great deal of guilt. One, because she feels that she was unfaithful to her husband by responding to your kisses.”

Justin ran a weary hand through his hair and shook his head. He didn't like the idea that she was feeling guilty about the kiss. She hadn't chosen it. They'd pretty much forced it on her. Actually, it had been pretty much forced on both of them since there was no way in hell he would have stood by and allowed Dante to try to build that kind of fire in Holly, and Dante had known it.

“Yes, Dante was very naughty,” Gia murmured, apparently reading his mind. “He wanted you both to have a little taste of what you could have together. Holly so that she knows what she is missing, and you so that you understand just what you are fighting for here and take it seriously.”

“He told you that?” Justin asked with surprise.

“No. I read his mind,” she said with amusement. “Dante and Tomasso are easy for me to read.”

“Right, well Holly won't think about what she could have with me so long as she's suffering guilt over what she considers being unfaithful to her husband,” Justin said grimly and was quite sure it was true . . . although he couldn't say how he knew that about her. “And I could be in trouble for it. Kissing her and rousing the life mate passion could be considered undue influence.”

“Dante forced you. It wasn't your idea,” Gia argued.

“I could have let him kiss her.”

“Few immortals could stand by and allow another immortal to kiss their life mate. Nor would they expect you to.”

“I hope you're right. Otherwise, my favorite body part might be in peril.”

“I thought you had decided her kiss was worth losing body parts and growing them back?” she said with amusement. “I'm pretty sure I read that from your mind when she stopped the kiss.”

“Stay out of my head,” he snapped and then, sorry for snapping at her when she was just trying to help, ran a weary hand through his hair and admitted, “Yeah. I thought that, and still do. But having to grow back a body part once is a different story than having your dick shredded over a hundred times. With the healing time in between, it would mean agony for—­Hell I don't even know how long,” he muttered, fighting the urge to cross his legs and cover his groin protectively with his hands. “Besides, I don't want to lose my job.”