Belonging (8 page)

That earned him a slight smile. Go him! She was incredibly beautiful, but she had one hell of a tough shell to crack. For the hundredth time this evening, he couldn’t help but wonder what happened in her short life to harden her so. He suspected she didn’t smile often, but if she gifted him with a full-on grin, he didn’t know if he’d be able to restrain himself from throwing her down and fucking her senseless on the spot.

“Come on. Let’s get you settled.” He slipped out of the Lincoln, quickly running around to open her door. He didn’t quite make it in time. She stood, bag in hand, gaping at the ostentatious abode. He grabbed the bag and her free hand, pulling her toward the door.

Since it was now nearly midnight, the house was quiet, everyone asleep. He’d only been here once, so he didn’t know his way around well, but he knew the girls’ rooms were on the third floor. He would avoid that one. No need stirring up more questions he wasn’t quite prepared to answer yet. Instead, he led her to the second-floor west wing bedrooms not letting her hand leave his, although she tried several times. They would have privacy here.

The second to the last door on the left opened to reveal a femininely decorated bedroom. Personally, he thought it looked like
My Little Pony
threw up in here, but apparently chicks dug that shit. The fact that he even knew what
My Little Pony
was should shrink his cock at least an inch. Ooh…he’d have to check that later.

“Wow. This is so…”

“Nice, huh?” He’d play along.

“I was going to say…pink. It’s very pink.” She looked around the room with wide eyes. There was something else in her eyes that he couldn’t quite decipher. It looked suspiciously like sorrow.

“Would you like another room?”

“I thought you’d never offer.” She laughed along with him.

Tugging her across the hallway, he took her into another empty room. This one was much more serene and neutrally decorated. These particular bedrooms were not all that big, but each did have a comfortable queen-sized bed and its own en-suite bathroom. The comforter had a white abstract pattern running through the light tan color. Slightly darker walls complemented it. There was a simple dresser in the corner, a reading lamp on the nightstand.

“Better?”

“Much. No sunglasses required.”

A genuine smile lit her up and he felt himself go hard. She must have noticed, her smile faded, desire clouding her eyes instead.
Christ
. He needed to get out of here before he did something supremely stupid, like take her up against the wall.
Jesus, he wanted her
. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to hold out; the bonding instinct was almost unbearable to resist. It screamed
Mine, Mine, Mine
. But if he pushed her, she would run.

He cleared his throat. “I’ll get some aspirin.” In the en-suite, he searched every last cupboard and drawer until he found a small bottle. He returned with two pills, along with a glass of water. She swallowed, setting the empty glass on the nightstand.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll just be right down the hall in case you need me. I’ll check on you in a couple of hours or so.”

“Yah, okay.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself, kitten? Because it’s truly no hardship for me to stay.” He willed her to say yes.

She laughed, shaking her head. He loved the sound.

“Nice try, Casanova.”

“Can’t blame a guy.” He closed the distance between them, running a finger down her bare arm. She shivered watching its path. He used the other to tip her chin toward him.

“Goodnight, Analise,” he whispered against her lips before tasting her one last time tonight. “Sweet dreams.” Without a look back, he turned and walked out the door. Before he couldn’t.

C
hapter
12

Analise

She stood unmoving as he closed the door. Lips tingling. Goose bumps a reminder of where he’d touched her. What in the name of all that is holy was going on with her? When he’d asked if she’d wanted him to stay, her heart and body screamed
yes, yes, yes
! But her stupid mouth ran autonomously, like it usually did, telling him to leave.

No, Analise, that’s a good thing
.
He’s a vampire.
A God-like, sexy, devastatingly handsome, exotic, erotic vampire. Who drank blood…human blood. Who probably wanted
her
blood. But who clearly knew how to kiss. He’d probably had plenty of practice. That thought made her frown. Funny that. Thinking of him with other women upset her more than the blood sucking. She found that oddly intriguing.

He’d tried to hide it, but he was disgusted with her motel room. No, it wasn’t the Ritz, but he didn’t have to be a snob about it. Not everyone could afford limousines and chauffeurs. Not everyone could afford a pair of five hundred-dollar jeans. Not everyone could
fill out
a pair of jeans like he could either. She’d felt his arousal earlier, but actually seeing the colossal bulge in the front of his pants…whew. She needed a fan.
Focus!

She took a good look around the room. A few knickknacks were scattered about and a flower painting hung over the bed, but it looked sterile, utilitarian. Still, a nice room for a shelter, she supposed. And probably one of the nicest rooms she’d ever stayed in.
Pity party over, Analise
. Damian didn’t explain, and she didn’t ask, but she wondered what type of women’s shelter this was exactly.

She had a sneaking suspicion she knew which “friend’s” house this was. This mansion belonged to Devon Fallinsworth. She felt it in her gut. And if Damian was watching Devon’s club and staying at Devon’s house, then maybe she could still get help, just from Damian instead. Or she could convince Damian to ask Devon if he didn’t know how to find Beth.

She didn’t think Lord Devon had anything to do with Beth’s disappearance, but Smitty had told her that he might know how to find out. And he certainly had the resources and money to help her, if his club and this house were any indication. She didn’t have anything to barter in return, but she’d do anything he asked of her. Right now, she just needed help.

And since Devon wasn’t around, Damian was her next best bet. Would it be a hardship to offer her body to Damian?
Hell, no
. He’d been more than forthcoming of his desire for her, and just looking at him made her wet. He stirred surprising but enjoyable feelings in her. Would it be a smart idea to sleep with him?
Obviously not
. Would that stop her? She really didn’t know.

With a loose plan formulated, she peeled off her black dress, bra and panties. Drawing on her baby blue tank and matching patterned terry shorts, she did her business in the bathroom and plugged in her cell. With tonight’s bedtime playlist selected, John Legend’s “You & I” played softly from the phone’s small speakers. Music was the balm for her tattered soul. Lyrics spoke to her, saving her in dark times, soothing her in sad times, giving her strength to face the future.

As she settled under the soft sheets, she resolved to fortify her walls. She was irrationally attracted to Damian. She wanted him in her bed, in her body. And it terrified her. She’d never really ever been attracted to a man, certainly not like this.
That
night so many years ago had ruined her for the opposite sex. And she didn’t bat for the same team, so that left her girl parts pretty much dried up like a prune.

So, yes, being so attracted to Damian was foreign territory and scary shit. And she had no clue how to handle it. She liked him way too much for just having met him. She was not a clingy or needy woman by any means. Why him? Why now?

Your destiny awaits.
Could it be true?

No. She wouldn’t let anyone in that space ever again. It was—and would remain—completely closed off. Other than Beth, she was incapable of love. Life was just easier that way. Lonelier? Perhaps. But she’d had enough lies, enough hurt, enough subterfuge to last two lifetimes.

Beth was still alive—she felt it—but the clock was ticking. Her focus, her mission had to be solely on finding Beth before it was too late, not sleeping with the sexiest man—
vampire
—she’d ever met. He was not her destiny. Finding Beth was. That must have been what Mara meant.

The lie sat hard, like a heavy boulder in the pit of her stomach. In the background, John Legend crooned in the magical way only he could.

As she drifted off into a restless sleep, she couldn’t help herself from wishing that it were Damian singing to her instead. All of her past, her troubles would melt away and it would be just the two of them, and she would be happy. Truly happy. And
she
would be
his
one and only girl.

Sighing, she decided she’d work on fortifying her walls tomorrow. Tonight would be reserved for foolishly daydreaming of things that could never be.

C
hapter
13

Damian

He’d made his way back to Dev’s office, waiting on Rom. His cock was so hard he could hardly think. He might have to resort to taking care of it himself. He could actually feel his balls turning purple. Strangely, though, as much as he wanted to be inside her body, he wanted to be inside her heart, her soul. He wanted to break through Analise’s emotional barriers and be the one person she could trust.
Love
.

He called Frankie. He didn’t even know Analise’s last name and he needed it for what he had in mind.

“Frankie, I need Analise’s last name.”

“How is she? Is she with you?” Frankie’s whiny voice grated on his last nerve. And he had just a little too much interest in his Moira’s welfare.

“Her last name. Now.” He didn’t have to explain a fucking thing to him.

“Aster.”

Her full name was as beautiful as she was. “Did she put a previous address on her job application?”

“I’ll have to check.”

Silence.

“You’d better be doing it now, human.” His firestarter abilities itched to be used; he was ready to turn Frankie into a nice crispy piece of bacon if he didn’t hurry up.

“Y-yes, my lord. Please give me a minute.”

“You have less than thirty seconds.”

“Yes, my lord. fifty-three forty-one Wyoming Street, Eau Claire, Wisconsin.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
Eau Claire?
Lots of women were from Eau Claire, right? It didn’t necessarily mean anything.

But his gut screamed differently.

“Don’t expect Analise at work tomorrow. I’ll let you know when she will return.” Which would be never.

He hung up.

“T, I need you to do something for me.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Check into an Analise Aster. fifty-three forty-one Wyoming Street, Eau Claire, Wisconsin. Find out every single thing you can about her. I want to know her parents’ names, if she has siblings, what her favorite food is, her bank account balance, where she went to school, her favorite music, her friends’ names. Everything. Also, I want you to physically go to her house and look around. Bring me anything of importance. This is your only priority until I tell you otherwise.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Analise seemed like a very private person. If she found out what he was doing, she’d have his nuts in a guillotine. They may be medieval death-wielding devices, but he had no doubt his mate would move heaven and earth to track one down, making
Thing one
and
Thing two
her first stop. And he was pretty attached to his
things
, so he would make sure to keep this his little secret.

At that moment, Rom sauntered in. He looked pretty damn sated.

“Did you enjoy Angel?”

“Very much.” That’s all he’d get from Rom except he surprised him asking about Analise. “And how is your mate, Damian? Did all check out well?”

He nodded. “Bump on the head, but she’ll be fine. Although
she
thinks she has a concussion. She’s in one of the shelter bedrooms sleeping. After tonight, I’ll be moving her over here with me until I return to Boston. Then she’ll be coming with me. But she thinks she’s only staying here for tonight. I’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.”

Rom laughed.

“She is a conundrum, though. And a hothead.” And magnificent and sexy as hell, he added silently.

Rom silently raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you two are made for each other.”

“Go ahead, yuck it up man. I won’t forget this when you find your Moira. Then I’ll be the one in the wings laughing my ass off. You’re bound to get one that will give you a run for your money.”

Rom was thoughtful for a moment. “I’m not sure a mate is part of my destiny.”

Rom was one of the oldest vampires Damian knew, but even Rom wouldn’t reveal exactly how old he was. Was he imagining it or did Damian detect wistfulness in Rom’s response? No…this was stoic Romaric Dietrich standing in front of him. He’d always been convinced Rom was missing an emotional gene. He’d never seen the guy get worked up or lose his cool. Ever. His emotions were like a flat line, never edging up or down. It was eerily creepy, actually. Rom certainly didn’t seem lonely, but maybe he’d been wrong.

“I don’t know, Rom. Until tonight I’d actually never thought much about finding mine. Both Devon and I found ours within a short time of each other. I think you’re the next to fall, my friend.”

Rom chose not to respond to his last comment, changing subjects instead.

“Do we have any further information this evening?”

Damian couldn’t help but smile. “No. I need to follow up with Giselle and see if she’s connected with the detective yet. I’ve temporarily reassigned T to another, more pressing matter.”

Rom raised a suspicious eyebrow but didn’t pry. “I have some business to attend to. We’ll catch up later.”

“That’s fine. I need to check on Analise anyway.”

As Rom left, he threw over his shoulder, “You never could have taken me, by the way. You were foolish to even consider it.”