Cloak of Deceit: An Alex Moore Novel (23 page)

If he would even bother looking.

But of course he would. I was his golden ticket.

My eyes stung and my vision blurred. I finally slowed and threw myself against the side of a rusted warehouse door, a sob strangling out of me.

How could he do that to me? How could he make me believe him so much? How could I be so wrong about what I felt? Julian didn’t want me for me — who would? I wasn’t worth the trouble I caused.

Clearly, as my mother and therapist suspected, there really was something wrong with me. I just had no sense when it came to men that I wanted. I always wanted the wrong ones. It should be a recognized disability for all it had screwed up my life. Now my life was over. The un-life I thought I wanted was a lie. Anyone who came in contact with me was in danger. That was my life in a nutshell: unwelcome everywhere, safe nowhere.

Antsy, I started moving again, this time with direction. I needed to find something public, blend in to a crowd. That was as far as my plan extended. I tucked my piddly supply of blood under my arm and crammed my hands into my pockets. Avoiding detection was a given. But what then? Get lost. Disappear. Maybe I could find some hunky millionaire, make him my blood slave, and get swept away to Tuscany. Start over.

Alex Moore, immortal heiress extraordinaire, and her spectacular fire-writing trick.

Inspecting the grungy grey buildings towering over me, I thought that was about as likely as pulling a new identity out of thin air. Maybe less likely. One colorful sign swung up ahead — wood painted green, with a harp and
O’Doyle’s
in gold lettering.

I ducked under the awning. A neon Guinness sign flickered in the window, and the wall of bottles lining the back glinted from the shadows. The pub was boisterous as I stepped inside. The clang of the bell signaling my entrance was lost in a chorus of groans as most of the patrons fixated on replays of a football game. The scent of the room was distinctly male, which I confirmed by hesitant glances at the sea of plaid shirts and holey jeans.

“Figures,” I muttered under my breath. Of all the places to run to, I had to find the unemployed loser’s happy hour at O’Doyle’s. So much for Plan A.

I stuck out like a sore thumb, and come commercials, I would be the center of attention. That left me about twelve seconds to get to the phone booth I spotted on the far wall. I edged my way through the beer-musky crowd, slinked behind the faux wood paneling, set my bag on the floor, and lifted the receiver.

Who could I call? My mom came to mind, but I froze on that thought and chewed on my lip. I didn’t want to get her involved in this mess. As long as I stayed away and kept her ignorant, she should be safe. At least, according to Julian. Could I really believe him though? Maybe I should warn her. I slammed the receiver back down. The coins inside jingled. I knocked my forehead against the box.
Think, Alex
.

“Need some change, beautiful?” said a slick voice behind me.

My eyes snapped open. I turned slowly, unsure if I really wanted my vision to confirm what my ears were telling me.

“Cody?” I fell against the wall behind me when my knees turned to water. I managed to make it look like I meant to do it, and crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at him.

He gazed down at me, mildly amused.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Sweetness.” He leaned one arm on the doorjamb, effectively trapping me. “After I’ve been looking for you for so long, you don’t even give me a hello kiss?”

My lip curled. “You’ve been looking for me?
Really
? Was that before or after you found out the price on my head?”

Arrogant, lying bastard
. I wanted to spit in his face.

“There’s a price on your head?” He blinked down at me, his cornflower blue eyes just as mesmerizing as ever.

And just as misleading
.

The snake that gave Eve the apple. I had followed him straight into hell.

“You really don’t wanna screw with me, Cody,” I said. “You’ll get hurt.”

He sighed and bent his head so low it was almost resting on my shoulder. “Lex,” he whispered, “I’m sorry. Really. I just wanted us to be together. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal. When the Cloak summoned me, I got spooked. I didn’t know you’d turned until I heard that Knight had kidnapped you and gone Rogue. I’ve been looking for you since.”

“Why?” My initial adrenaline rush at seeing Cody’s ghost was draining away, leaving me full of bitter confusion that was determined to leak out my eyes. I wasn’t going to cry for him, though. Not one more fucking tear. He was last person I wanted to see just then — a reminder of everything I’d done wrong. And the fact that I felt nothing, no stirring of my old feelings, made the sting I felt over Julian that much worse.

“I want us to be together. I want to have you, Lex. I’ve always wanted you. I can protect you, I promise. The Cloak will let us be together.”

I shook my head. He had to be lying. Maybe Julian had misled me about his plans, and maybe he’d even been lying that the Cloak and the Grigori wanted me dead. But he hadn’t been lying to Monique. I was a precious commodity, and now I knew it. There was no way they would just let Cody keep me. It was too perfect. And why else would he want me all of the sudden? He’d been quick to bail before…Something was wrong.

Until I knew what, I was stuck. So, I shoved down my instinct to knee him in the balls and bolt, and instead relaxed against him. He snaked an arm around my waist to hold me closer. I put a false stutter in my voice. “What are you saying, baby?”

“I can sponsor you. We can make a life together,” he purred in my ear, then brushed his lips down my neck. My spine tingled, but not with familiar wanting. Something
definitely
felt wrong, but it eluded me, a phantom sensation I couldn’t hang on to.

Cody pulled back from me with a wicked smile, and then kissed the tip of my nose.

He’d never done that before.

I furrowed my brows and examined him closely. There wasn’t an eyelash out of place. Everything was the same. It was Cody’s eyes that looked at me with his usual heated malice, Cody’s lips that whispered all the right things. Everything I secretly wanted to hear from someone — just not him. He told me everything I wished I could believe, like he’d read the aching lines carved into my heart.

His lips brushed over mine, and there was a split second of hesitation, a flutter of unsurety. Then something else registered: he smelled wrong. Cody had always smelled like cigarettes and sweat. The scent infusing my senses was older, cleaner, like powder and citrus. I was glad I didn’t have a heartbeat to give away my anxiety. I wrapped my arms around his neck and met his lips.

Cody’s lips, but not Cody’s kisses.

What the hell is going on?

I pushed us back until he thumped into the narrow hallway’s other wall. I didn’t like feeling pinned. His hands slid up my sides under my jacket, the same hands, but too gentle. Definitely not Cody.

Without time to think it all the way through, I went forward on impulse. Some stranger was trying to trick me by impersonating my ex-boyfriend. My skin prickled with a chill of warning. Here I was in — well, I didn’t know where I was — but someone who knew my deepest secrets had me cornered there. The only thing I had going for me was they didn’t suspect I was onto them. So, I kept up the act to buy time.

“I’m so glad to see you,” I said between kisses.

“Mmm,” not-Cody mumbled, yanking me forward again. I put on a decent show. It didn’t hurt that whoever was kissing me was wearing Cody’s delectable mouth, and knew what he was doing. It had to be a he. Only a man would think a woman wouldn’t spot an imposter from his kiss. Desire spiraled up around the spikes of fear shooting through me, and the mixture was enough to trigger what I recognized as a primitive Undead instinct, another tactic I’d forgotten was in my arsenal.

“Do you really mean it?” I blinked up at him, making my eyes wide and trusting.

“Yes, baby.” His hands slid down to rest on my ass. “I even have somewhere we can go.”

Yeah, that was gonna happen. I wondered how long he would keep up the farce. Would he fuck me first, before he sold me to the highest bidder?

Creep.

“How about right here?” I twined my fingers in the hair on the back of his neck. “I don’t want to wait.”

“Let’s go somewhere private,” he urged, looking smug.

“You never minded public before.” I reached between us to rub the front of his jeans and run my fingers under the hem of his shirt, along his stomach. It was enough to tell me I really had put on a good show. He — whoever he was — was turned on. Even though I hated admitting how my own body was responding, I decided I could use that too. Press my advantage, try to catch him off-guard.

“I’ve never wanted you this much before.” He forced my hand away and squeezed my wrist.

I made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a purr, then fixed him with a glare, equal parts challenge and invitation. Arousal permeated the air between us. My skin heated up. I was thankful, for once, that my body didn’t have to agree with my mind.

Mr. Imposter responded by pulling me harder against him and crushing our mouths together. This time I didn’t think about who he was, only about how he felt. There was a hunger there, for control, for possession, that hit buttons for me. I focused on that, drew off of it.

I wasn’t an expert by any means, but three days trapped in a small space with a blood donor had given me some useful experience. I pushed all of my desire at him, like dousing a campfire with lighter fluid. His temperature rose as I licked behind his ear and scraped my fangs along his neck.

Cody wouldn’t have a heartbeat, but there was one. I didn’t hear it so much as feel it, a dull ache on the back of my tongue. My fangs prickled and lengthened. As my blood thirst surged up and filled my head with a red haze, I thought,
this is a better plan than running
. Take control. Turn the tables. I was thirsty for fresh
blood, angry, and scared. Thanks to my new instincts, that all added up to hot and bothered as hell. I didn’t have to fake it. I wanted this — to feel the strength his blood would give me.

He was too carried away on the wave of pheromones to resist.

I rubbed against Cody’s delectable body, writhed under his eager hands, and worked us both into a frenzy. No more complaints about privacy. I lifted my head and pulled my lips back, bearing my fangs to the light. The imposter went almost limp in my arms, sinking down the wall. The heartbeat that shouldn’t have been there burst to life under my hand as I gripped his throat. I squeezed, leaning closer.

His heartbeat sped up. He didn’t fight me, couldn’t. Even though I could have torn his throat out, he would have leaned against the wall with a stupid lopsided grin on his face. Had I been so weak? So easy?

Not anymore.

My fangs sank into taut muscle and burst through the flesh barrier to reach the free-flowing life force below, and I drank ecstasy. Heady, spice-laden blood flowered in my mouth, driving me beyond satiation and straight down the Tomahawk to
power
.

His blood tasted heavy, filling. Swallowing it put me in the driver’s seat.

He moaned into my hair, grinding his hips into mine and draping his arms over my shoulders, begging with his body for more.

I eased off and smiled, licking my lips and swirling the taste of him in my mouth. My other hand kept his neck pressed to the wall.

Cody’s body went rigid.

“Who are you?” I rasped, my voice still thick with the rush of his blood.

The imposter started to shake his head. I squeezed my fingers together until I knew just a little bit more pressure would collapse his trachea. All my pre-med training was still good for something. “I know you’re lying. Just show yourself.”

He only strained against me for a few heartbeats, then his exertion demanded the blood I’d stolen, and he sank back. His hands clawed weakly at my forearm and he shot me a hateful glare. I loosened my grip, letting him suck in one precious breath.

“All right, all right.” He coughed. His breath raked in and out roughly, his neck straining against my fingers. “All right.”

I gave him a half-inch more.

The image of Cody melted away, like a watercolor painting in rain. It de-materialized, and what was left behind seemed to mold itself in front of me, a wax statue melting in reverse.

It was a he. And he was a fox — a sable-haired, green-eyed fox of a man, with polished ivory skin and sharp-edged features. His lips were the only smooth curve, bow-shaped and pillowy, swollen from kissing. I blinked a few times to regain my composure.

“What are you?” I asked, not managing to sound as threatening as before. That’s what they mean by disarmingly handsome — if that was the real him.

“Esmond,” he said. His voice had changed too. It was smooth and cultured, with faint traces of an Irish lilt.

I narrowed my eyes. “I said
what
, not who.”

He glared at me. “Let me go and I’ll tell you.”

I cocked my head as I considered it. Whatever he was, he was human, and I was stronger and faster. Clearly, I had the upper hand. If I turned out to be wrong on that count, there was always the damsel in distress act and a roomful of working-class beefcake right around the corner. I let him go and backed off a step.

Esmond straightened to a height at least three inches taller than Cody. Slender, but not lanky. The force of his personality alone impressed, now that his layer of trickery had worn away. He was the sort of man you do not miss, even in a room full of them.

I tucked my hair behind my ear and licked the last remnants of blood from my lips, which was a mistake. The blood was still settling over me, seeping into my thirsty muscles. Some of them were hotter than others, and I had to look away from Esmond for a moment. A blush burned in my cheeks.

Hunting instincts: double-edged sword.

Esmond cleared his throat, rubbing it with his hand.

“Well?”