Assassins Bite (13 page)

Chapter Thirteen

“Blackthorne.” She stalked toward him, eyes narrowing.

She recovered quickly, as good as any he'd seen. She was so serious, stalking him, he almost forgot to be wary. His heart swelled with lov…with pride.

Her hand went behind her back.

Going for her cuffs. He relaxed into a ready stance. As she slid into him, she pulled out the cuffs without a single tell. Oh, she really was quite good.

He was better, though, two hundred years of practice to her twenty. Peripheral vision and his vampire speed let him snatch her wrist well before she could cuff him.

She flicked her hand and locked one cuff on his seizing wrist instead.

Delight bubbled through him. “Nicely done.”

“You're smiling.” She gazed up into his face. “You have a gorgeous smile.” Her eyes were big pools of glossy black, haloed by thin coronas of melted chocolate brown.

Warmth bloomed inside him, nothing he'd name but filled with sunshine and light. He stood there like a goober basking in the feeling, forgetting totally that she'd gotten a cuff on him and had only to activate it to stop him from misting. Although even without mist there were at least four ways he could think to escape.

It never got that far. His extensive training made reaction automatic. Before she could activate the cuffs, he blew his body apart and reformed sitting in the armless examination chair.

She adjusted to face him. The cuffs dangled from her hand. “Damn. How do you do that?”

“Practice.”

She nodded. He could see her file it away in that quick brain of hers. She casually unlocked the cuff that had been around his wrist. “Can you mist again right away, or do you have to wait between?”

“There's a wait—”

She jumped him.

He barely managed to rise in time to stop her. He was careful to offer humans a measured response, but she was pushing him to his limits; no half-measures anymore, not for her. He wrapped, not a hand around her wrist, but his arms around her body, like a big straitjacket.

She grunted and wriggled against him, and oh, did that feel nice. She didn't shriek or cry
pax
or any of the things he might have expected.

Instead she stomped her thick-soled toes on his. Vampire bone was too dense for her to break, even with her lead weight shoes, but it
hurt
. While he sucked in air and shielded mentally against the pain, she dug her toes in and launched herself up in his grasp.

Her skull rammed into his jaw.

He had to release her quickly to keep her from hurting herself, misting backward through the chair, reforming sprawled behind it.

She climbed onto the chair and reached for him cuffs-first, nearly toppling the chair.

He kipped up, grabbed the chair with one hand and the cuffs with the other and wrenched the restraints from her. She was small but strong.

“Hey.” She grabbed for them, overbalanced, and tumbled into his arms.

He didn't think, just acted. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her.

She melted. She was so perfect against him, a warm bundle in his arms, her mouth opening against his, her muscles yielding.

Images lit his brain, her cuffed to the chair, him spreading her thighs and tasting every delectable bit.

Excitement hit low and hard.

He was instantly ashamed of himself. Using sex, not for mutual pleasure, but to take advantage of her? He couldn't do that, not to anybody and especially not to her.

But the cuffs, the chair…he
could
restrain her, and hope it'd take her fifteen minutes to get free. Barely enough time to deal with Eloise, but it'd have to do.

Still kissing Sunny, he lifted her and settled her into the chair. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. He slid his palms along her wool-covered forearms to circle her wrists with his fingers. Gently he pushed her hands back and down, her arms bending easily, until her fingers met behind the back of the chair.

He locked the cuffs around her wrists.

“Hey.” She broke the kiss and tried to pull her hands forward. When she realized what he'd done, she glared black death at him.

Even her death stare was cute. He knew better than to smile.

There was a way for her to get free, but with her arms snug around the chair back she couldn't just pull. She'd have to hunch forward, get her feet under her, stand with the chair on her back, then hook the seat over something and walk the chair off.

It would take phenomenal abdominals. Someone less muscular couldn't do it, but he was willing to bet his Sunny could.

His
Sunny. He met her glare with a sense of bewilderment. This rush of feelings around her unsettled him. He'd have to deal with it eventually. But first things first. Distract Sunny from figuring out how to free herself and buy himself time to destroy Eloise.

He could think of one very pleasant way to both relax Sunny's muscle tone and distract her.

No, not taking advantage of her. Well, not unless she
wanted
him to, that was.

He was staring at her sex. He immediately flicked his eyes up to hers. A slight frown said she was following his train of thought. Suddenly her cheeks flushed, her mouth fell open and she started to pant. Fury—or arousal?

He couldn't tell, despite being able to read anyone, anywhere. He decided she was frightened and bent to undo her.

To his utter shock, she said, “Payback for this morning?”

He glanced up. Eyes sparkling, she spread her thighs. She was panting in anticipation.

He swallowed. “Let me be clear. I'm not taking off the handcuffs. But I won't use them to force you to submit to me.”

She arched a brow. “Maybe I want to.”

He couldn't help himself then. He really couldn't. He knelt, pushed her legs farther and went down on her.

She squealed as his breath heated her. The sound was a bell-peal of delight to him. He bit and kissed wool, while his fingers worked at her belt and buttons and zipper. When they were open he hefted her hips and pulled off her pants and panties. He pulled so hard they shot from his hand to skid across the floor.

He was already kneeling, tasting heaven.

He licked her, over and over. Her panting quickened. The soft gasps feathered against his ears. He kissed her, and she swelled under his lips. He licked again and she opened, a rose blooming.

The sensation of her, slick and warm against his tongue, energized his nerve endings. He licked again. Her inner sex blossomed, smaller lips stiffening, standing proud. He ran his tongue up one side, around her stiffening clitoris and down the other. She gasped.

He pressed a deep kiss to her. She was a marvel. Her swollen sex pillowed his lips. In their folds nestled her hard little clit, like a sweet pearl. He rolled his tongue against it and felt it rise.

He
was doing this to her. It filled him with power. Again he ran his tongue up one side and down the other. Her clit swelled in reply.

Every nerve in his lips and tongue was shouting at him, telling him so many things all at once. It was like driving a Ferrari, taking everything he had but giving back more. He had to pay close attention—to what he was doing to her, but also to what she was doing to him, her scents, her sounds, her pleasure a feedback that boosted him nearer to heaven.

She was so incredibly responsive. As he licked and kissed her pretty little pussy, she moaned and began to thrash. Her pounding heartbeat filled his ears; her soft, feminine scent filled his nose; her sleek thighs were a delight to his fingers and tongue. She stimulated all of him. He wanted to cover himself in her.

He fastened on to her and began to suck. So clean, so fresh and heady. Like champagne, crisp and light and exciting.

She groaned and clenched her strong thighs around his head. He worked his chin against her and she pushed back, trying to ride his jaw. He gave her everything she asked for and more.

She arched, impending orgasm. He drove a finger into her. She shuddered. He sucked hard and thrust savagely.

She came with a low cry, rolling herself against him with abandonment, her pleasure stunning in its ferocity. Stunning him too, because he was right there with her, totally focused on her, living it through her and not worried about himself.

Yet he strained against his zipper until it hurt. This was a new kind of arousal, concentrated not on his cock but on
her
, arousal through his ultra-sensitive lips and tongue, more exciting than anything he'd ever done in his life. He'd given head before, but never fully clothed. Never without touch or the promise of touch in return.

Why hadn't he done this? It was amazing, exquisite.

He'd never wanted to. Not until her.

A soft chime went off. Her phone, a reminder… The gazebo on Fifth and Lincoln, nine tonight. He'd have to run.

He barely managed to push himself away, fighting himself, wanting to stay with her more than he'd ever wanted anything. He damned his own self-discipline. He left her there, languid, satisfied that she wouldn't make this meeting with Eloise, but even more satisfied by how beautifully she'd come under his mouth.

He got to the gazebo barely in time. Even then his head really wasn't in it, thinking about Sunny, so though Eloise stood open on the steps, he didn't immediately attack.

The female before him was hauntingly familiar—the petite frame, the brown pageboy haircut, the doe brown eyes so like Sunny's. But no. Those slender womanly curves weren't Sunny's tightly muscled body. The bored, cynical gaze wasn't Sunny's snapping brown. The bat birthmark she had in common with her father was covered by makeup, but that was definitely Eloise.

The veil of pleasure lifted from his eyes and he saw that there was a world of difference between the female before him and Sunny. Eloise held herself stiffly compared to Sunny's tightly ready stance. Her eyes were too small and narrow. Sunny's were two beautiful half-moons, especially when she smiled…

Head in the game.
He prepared to attack.

The wind shifted. She lifted her head—and misted.

Aiden's spine iced at the speed with which she'd reacted. In the decades since he'd seen her last, she'd trained.

A telltale whirl of gray zipped for the street. He followed her mist, running.

A dark car careened into view. She reformed and dashed for it. He blew himself apart and pursued.

He snapped back to an opening rear door, two vampires armed with flamethrowers piling out before the car even stopped. Eloise threw herself between the vampires into the backseat as the throwers belched fire. Aiden leaped past flame into the backseat beside her.

She threw silver dust in his face. She'd done it barehanded and her screams mingled with his stunned gasp. Dust clogged his lungs. He couldn't breathe. He blinked helplessly, tears streaming bloody down his cheeks. He couldn't see.

“Aiden,” she cried. “I'm so sorry, but it's for your own good. I'll make it better, I promise.”

Her vampires clamped on to his arms and tried to shove him into the car. He fought back with all his strength but his blows were hampered by no breath. Eloise petted at him with frenzied hands while her crew, keeping hold of him, climbed into the car and switched to pulling. The car squealed away, door still open.

Coughing up silver, he drew his knife and hacked blindly at vampires. They lost their grip on him and he fell from the car. He tucked and rolled automatically, coming to a halt on the pavement with skinned everything. As the car careened away he collapsed, coughing, weeping blood to clear his eyes.

Finally his coughing quieted. He palmed his forehead. Eloise was going to be a bigger problem than he'd thought.

Chapter Fourteen

Pounding at the infirmary door woke me from the soundest after-sex sleep I'd ever had.

Knock, knock, knock. “Sunny? Are you in there?” My brother had been interrupting me “reading” in the bathroom for years. He had the timing of a genius quarterback, catching me sneezus-interruptus, as it were. Today Dirk was a good ten minutes late. Or maybe Blackthorne's clever tongue had made a twenty-minute job into ten. If he hadn't already gone I would have kissed him.

Knock, knock, knock. “Sunny, if you're in there, let me in.”

I considered my position, slumped in the chair, my naked hips at the edge, pants and panties…somewhere.

Knock, knock, knock. “Sunny? If you're
not
there, could you tell me where you are? Or should I ask Captain Titus?”

Slap me upside the head with a Glock. “I'm here. Just a minute!”

“Oh good. I was hoping that was you. It sounded like your snoring but it could also have been Captain Titus since he snores sometimes, but usually he's louder. Unless you're snoring in there with Captain Titus?”

“
No
, Dirk.” The thought of synchronized snoring with Tight-Ass weirded me out. Frankly, the thought of snoring with anyone but Blackthorne…fuck.

I tried to push my arms free of the back and couldn't. So I used every bit of strength in my abs and thighs to stand. Hooking the seat over the edge of the infirmary bed, I basically walked the thing off. Once I'd gotten free of the chair, I managed to fumble the keys from my belt pouch and unlock the cuffs.

“Well, I'm glad it's not Captain Titus snoring in there because he's a bit of a crankypants when I wake him up. Although that ‘no' sounded cranky to me.” Dirk was still knocking. “Are you sure you're not Captain Titus?”

“I'm sure.” I found my panties and trousers, pulled them on over satisfied Sunny, went to the door, took a half step back because I knew my brother and opened. “See? Me.”

Dirk knocked air in my face. If I'd been that half step closer he'd have punched me in the nose. “Hello, Sunny. It's time to start work. Unless you've already been working hard in which case you should take a break. If you haven't already taken a break with all that snoring.”

This was what no one understood about my brother. He was always thinking about other people first, looking out for their comfort and wellbeing. He's really all-the-way-down sweet. “Thanks, Dirk. But I'm meeting a suspect. What time is it?”

“Nine-fifteen.”

“Damn it. I have to go.”

“Okay.” He waved buh-bye. “Well, I'd better tell Captain Titus I found you.”

That froze my feet. “Titus wanted me? Why?”

“Oh, he wanted an update right away. No wait. He said—” Dirk punched himself in the gonads, and sang, “
Right away!
”

Blow me down with the Four Winds of Fuck. I'd done good cop work taking my phone to CSI, but I'd thrown it away for a good…okay, great…okay, mind-blowing orgasm—which, while awesome, was neither good cop nor work.

Much as I wanted to run down Smith, I suddenly realized I'd been an imbecile. Confronting a Most Wanted alone without backup was even worse cop work, and too-stupid-to-live besides. I sighed. The smart thing was to see what Tight-Ass wanted.

Many hours later, my ears ringing from the searing lecture Tight-Ass gave me, I walked home depressed. I'd done good cop work but now even my good cop work didn't cut it. Less than a week on the job and I bungled even the things I'd formerly done well. So Ruffles.

I opened my kitchen door and was smacked in the face with
eau de
wet skunk doused in garlic. “What…?” I coughed, waved aside nose-hair curling smoke. Vaguely I saw my mother at the stove, stirring a concoction that sparked pea green and sickly yellow. Lumps waved at me from the sauce pan. Not really, but it seemed like it. “Mom? What are you doing?”

“Sunny! Come in, come in. The new green bean casserole recipe with the lovely protein-packed fried earthworms gave me the idea. Crunchy yet healthy.” She pointed at the windowsill and a row of what I'd thought were suet balls. “Cheese balls rolled in a coating of crunchy-yet-healthy protein-packed fried—”

“Thanks, Mom. I'll be surprised.” I pressed a hand to my mouth and ran.

My bedroom was stuffed back under the sloped roof of our Cape Cod home. I managed to get upstairs without my stomach hitting the emergency ejector.

There, I sat slumped on my bed, waiting for the energy to undress and go to sleep.

A tingling crossed my skin. My nipples perked up. I stared at them, flabbergasted. How dare they be excited when I was having a good sulk?

The shadows shifted. “Are you all right?”

“Blackthorne?” I jerked straight. “
Blackthorne?
”

He didn't appear so much as divide from the slanted shadows, like cells of darkness reproducing.

I blinked at him. But he didn't waver or poof or turn out to be the product of sniffing too much cheese ball smoke. “I'm fine.”

“Ah.” He sat next to me, not touching except for the heat emanating in delicious quantity from his forceful body. “Fine.”

“Yes.” When he didn't say anything, I added, “Mostly.”

“Hmm.”

“All right, not really. But I will be fine. I always am.”

“Work?”

I blew air. The man—vampire—was too damned perceptive. “Yes. Being a cop is my job, the only one I've ever wanted. It'll work out. It has to.”

“What happened?”

Just those two words and then silence. Silence and caring black eyes, focused totally on me. Or actually caring slightly bloodshot eyes. I opened my mouth to ask him if he was okay. My only excuse is a lifetime spent trying to be heard over the roar of Ruffles—trying to even get a couple words in edgewise. A lifetime of words, forming in my brain, never making it any further.

All my troubles came pouring out instead.

Blabber-blah-blah-blippity-bloppety-boo. I told him everything, Titus taking my gun, my concern that Smith was after him, my fear that I couldn't cut it as a cop, even that Elena had set me on him.

Through it all he nodded and simply listened, silent except for when he made encouraging noises. “Ah”, “I see”, and “umm-hmm”. That deep “umm-hmm” was more effective than any truth serum.

As I wound down, a drip trickled along my cheek. I extracted a hand—somewhere along the way I'd burrowed into his arms—and brushed it off. “I'm such a Ruffles.”

“That's not what I see.”

“Oh? What do you see besides a complete failure? A pipsqueak mouse who can't cut the job?”

He brushed a kiss on my forehead. “I see a strong, determined cop. A woman who's hit a roadblock but who won't let that stop her.”

I straightened and stared at him. How did this man, this vampire I'd only met a few days ago, know exactly the right thing to say?

I grabbed his ears and kissed him. I would've done a lot more but he pulled away. “Sunrise is coming. I need to go.”

You're needed here.
I was silent.

He rose and went to the window, where he stood gazing out. “You keep Meiers Corners safe. Don't worry about Smith. Her real name is Eloise and she's a vampire, so she's my problem.” He turned from the window. “Don't try to find me anymore, or follow me.”

I sat in stunned silence. The only thing I heard was Smith wasn't Smith, but a vampire named Eloise.

“Sunny. Promise me.”

“Sure.” It's not a promise if you don't know what you're promising.

“Good. Be well, Sunny.” He dropped into mist and filtered out the cracks in the windowpane.

My heart followed him out.