Blood Entangled (14 page)

In the meantime, there was Gwen. She held the keys to unlocking the mysteries inside Kaštel Estate. Why were the vampires still able to fly? What would happen if his pathetic brother did, in fact, let Pedro feed from him? The answers were coded in the artifacts surrounding them, and Gwen was the cypher.

She gingerly placed herself on his lap, straddling him with those mesmerizing hips and brushing her little round breasts against him.

“Thank you for telling me more of the truth,” she whispered.

It wasn’t really gratitude, but a declaration that she knew he was still holding back information.

And that was something Gwen had on Zoey—she saw the shadow surrounding him, the one he so easily hid from everyone else. Perched on his lap, her pupils were big and her pretty mouth tense. She was afraid of him. But rather than scare her off, the fear lured her.

He rolled his shoulders with a rush of power. For the first time in his life, he tasted being seen and wanted in all his dark glory. It was intoxicating, tugging at his dick in an intense surge of arousal. She wanted that side of him? He would gladly give it to her, so hard and so many times she wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. Without a word, he cupped her ass and picked her up, carrying her to his bedroom with her legs wrapped around his waist.

In his pocket, his phone buzzed with an incoming email. It could wait until morning.

A few loose ends required Kos’s attention, and then Lena would be all his. He called Bel to tell him about the prisoner. Bel had no advice, but he confirmed Lucas’s warning that the kid wasn’t harmless, no matter how naïve he appeared.

Then Kos left a message with his buddy at California Containers, asking to borrow their truck for a day or two to deliver the wine to the distributor, once it was bottled. Small favor, but it saved him the hassle of arranging another delivery that could get hijacked.

In the process of shutting down his computer, the bold-faced type of a new email message drew his attention.

Subject: Exquisitely Beautiful? I’ll take her.

From: Mason Kearney, Jr.

A spasm of tension gripped his body, and he shuddered.
Krist.
He had to read it. How could he go upstairs and make love to her, pretending the message wasn’t there?

Kos, old buddy, I’m in desperate need of a cook, or at least one hot dish. Sounds like you’ve got what I need. On your recommendation, I’ll take her, sight unseen. Shall I pick her up, or will you deliver? Call me.

He could practically hear his old friend as he read. Mason was all right, a stand up guy. A native of San Francisco, from an old and wealthy family. Lena would find him good looking, too.

He used to go out on the town with Mason in the nineteen fifties and sixties. Back then, Mason had a thing for stewardesses, so they’d frequented a hotel bar where the Pan Am girls stayed. They’d loved him—sometimes he would hit it off with the entire crew from a 707. Once, he’d left the bar in a train of women wearing matching gray suits and pillbox hats. Inside the elevator two of the women tipped their hats to Kos. At that same moment, Mason whispered so that only vampire ears could hear, “I’m bringing them in for a landing.”

Kos had different tastes. He was on the lookout for that Midwestern housewife attending a conference with her husband. There was usually at least one in the hotel bar. She was always seated in a corner drinking a cocktail and pretending to read a novel while her husband was off doing manly things. Kos knew something Mason didn’t—stewardesses partied in every port, but housewives were still waiting for the party.

He enjoyed relieving the missuses of their inhibitions. They peeled them off easily, just like their nylons. He was pretty certain one newly liberated housewife could blow your
mind
better than a dozen party girls. And he always hoped they left those inhibitions behind in San Francisco so that things were more exciting in their marriage beds. Kos never shared his housewife secret with Mason. His buddy wouldn’t have believed him anyway.

He laughed, remembering their good times. Lena might like Mason—he was charming and fun. But Kos hadn’t considered the unsettling possibility she would serve someone he knew. A nameless, faceless employer hadn’t troubled him, but Mister fuck-fifteen-flight-attendants in one night? Lena was special, and she deserved to be treated that way.

On the other hand, Mason was a known quantity. Better she work for someone Kos knew and trusted than a stranger. Lena was a grown-up. She knew what it meant to work in a household, knew she wouldn’t be somebody’s one and only. But she deserved so much more, and he wanted to spare her added hurt. The idea of Mason’s hands and fangs on her made him cringe.

As if there was even a choice. No strangers had replied to the advertisement and the longer she was at Kaštel, the more danger she was in—it had to be Mason.

There. It was decided. And it left him feeling empty.

The movie was one of Lena’s favorites, a teen romance from the eighties rerun on cable. John Cusack was so young and cute, chasing after a girl way out of his league. Lena could relate. She tried to watch it—kept waiting for that amazing scene when he held his boom box overhead and played that one song—but she couldn’t focus. Her mind only wanted to replay every stroke of Kos’s tongue between her legs, or the rapture on his face when he’d come in her mouth.

She lay on his bed, fingering her neck and imagining his bite. After years, she would share sex
and
blood. And then, maybe she would know for certain her destiny—blood service or a normal human life?

The loose brass doorknob jiggled, and the door creaked open. Kos didn’t open it wide, just slipped in sideways. His stiff, upright posture gave him away. Something had changed. But what? She squinted to find a clue on his face in the dark, his high cheekbones illuminated only by the flickering blue light of the television.

His eyes flicked to the television. “
Say Anything
?”

What? Oh, the movie. “Yeah. You know it?” That would be a surprise, since he had distinctly classical taste in music and literature.

He leaned against the wall next to the door, exposing his muscular white neck as he rested his head. Rubbing his eyes, he replied, “I’m a Peter Gabriel fan. He’s a genius and he wrote the song—”

“Kos, what happened?”

He opened his eyes, and they were solid gray. The handsome planes of his face flattened, dimples invisible. Oh well, at least she’d known what it was like to be wanted for a while. She drew up her knees, suddenly nauseous.

He turned on the lights, and reached for the remote control, powering off the television. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come back.”

“Don’t apologize. You saved the driver. You captured that Hun—”

“You mean that kid.” He shook his head, crossing his arms.

She stared over her kneecaps, her eyes drawn to his full lips, which had kissed her so sweetly, kissed her everywhere. She wanted them again, but something told her that wasn’t going to happen now.

Impatient, she asked again, “What is it?”

His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, and he cleared his throat. “It’s good news. I found you a job.”

No! No! No!
Not now, not when she was so close to what she wanted, so close to Kos. “Oh, thank you.”

“An old friend, Mason Kearney. He lives in San Francisco. He needs a cook.”

“He’s your friend?”

“Yes, we were close for a time, but we’ve been out of touch.” Kos sat next to her and folded her hand into his. “I like him, Lena. And you will too. He’s very amusing. He’s handsome—women love him.”

An ocean of distance spread between them at the promise that she’d like another vampire. In the end, she was merely a blood source. “Well that’s good for me, I guess.”

He flinched. If she sounded bitter, she hadn’t meant to.

“Lena, I think it
is
good. I trust him, and you’ll be close by. I can check on you, make sure you’re happy, and…satisfied.”

A piece of lint on Kos’s shoulder captured her focus. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently turning her face to meet his gaze.

“Everything I said before is true, Lena. I’m crazy about you. I want you constantly.”

He kissed her. Gentle. Slow. Oh God, his lips were so slow and sweet. She wanted to surrender to the kiss, to him. But every time she tried to fall backward into sensation, her mind yanked her out.

She pushed him away. “Why?”

“Because everything about you is sweet.” He put his hand over her heart. “You’re kind, and—”

“No. I mean, why should I go? I could stay with you.” She looked him in the eye—cloud gray and sky blue swirled, fighting for dominance.

“Sweetheart, it’s for the best. You’ll be safe away from the Hunters. You’ll have what you’ve always wanted—a place in a normal household. I can assure you Mason will have none of Andre’s compunctions.”

Everything he said made sense. Surely she was imagining his sadness, just like earlier she’d imagined his eyes on her when they walked to the pantry. Only that time, she’d been right, hadn’t she?

She rose up on her knees, eye to eye with him. “But I want you.” She hated saying it. It was too close to the way she’d begged Andre.

“And I want you. But I can’t…I just don’t do commitment.”

He was a rock. He was the most reliable man she’d ever met. What was he saying?

“You can have me. I’ll be your household. We can live in your house at the coast.”

He flinched, drawing back and frowning. She sounded so pathetic. God, she was making him hate her.

“Lena, I’m just not the type to settle down. I don’t want a household.”

Finally she understood. He wanted her, but not for keeps. She could feel his desire sparking in the air, in the heat of his hand and the desperation in his eyes. But he didn’t want the burden of her in the future.

The realization squeezed her heart, stealing her breath. It was Andre all over again, only worse. Kos had thrown this stray dog a bone, then taken it right back.

“When does he want me to start?” The question trembled across her quivering lips.

“I’ll call him tomorrow to work out the details.” His words rasped, barely more than a whisper.

“Okay.”

“I’m going to miss you so much.” He pulled her against his chest, stroking her back. His erection pressed into her hip, his fingers sliding around her sides to her breast.

How could he not feel her tension? She was taut as a bow.

“Yeah, right.”

He tensed too. “
Krist
. This is the last thing I wanted to do to you—make you feel this way again.” His arms still held her firmly. “I should have stayed away from you, let you go back to your room and get on with things.”

No. It wasn’t Andre again. Kos gave a damn. He was sorry.

“I don’t wish that.” She flattened her palm on his chest. “We would never have become friends. We would never have—”

Then he was kissing her again and not gently. His tongue was in her mouth demanding she accept his affection. She tried to relax, to enjoy his kiss. Probably the last one…

He withdrew, kissing the side of her mouth and up her jaw. He circled her ear with his tongue. “Let me make love to you, show you how special you are to me.”