He groaned. She was so warm and tight.
Sarah sucked in a breath as Roland sank to the hilt, loving the heavy feel of him.
His eyes glowed fiercely as he began to move, the amber bright against his tanned skin and dark eyebrows. His fangs were extended. Fangs he was careful to keep from cutting or puncturing her while he took her nipple between his teeth and stroked it with his tongue, sending shards of pleasure slicing through her.
“Roland,” she moaned, burying her hands in his hair and holding him to her. “You feel so good.”
His hands tightened. His thrusts increased. Quicker. Harder.
“Yes,” she groaned, urging him against her with her legs, head falling back against the wall.
He trailed his lips up her breast, over her collarbone to her neck, found the pulse beating frantically just beneath the surface.
Was he going to bite her?
It wasn’t fear that raced through her at the thought, but excitement.
He stroked his tongue across the skin. A gentle grazing of his teeth followed as he drew his free hand down her stomach, delving into the thatch of curls to tease her clit.
It was too much. Sarah splintered apart in his arms, crying out as a second climax even stronger than the first careened through her.
Roland joined her with a groan, her body milking his as wave after wave of pleasure buffeted her.
When the last ripples had faded, he leaned his forehead against the wall beside her, his damp cheek pressed to hers. Their breath came in gasps as he wrapped both arms around her and held her tightly.
“That was … incredible,” she said between breaths, sliding her arms around his neck and holding him close, though her sated body wanted to sink into a boneless heap at his feet.
He raised his head, drawing back just enough to look down at her.
She smiled and cupped his face with one hand. “Those eyes,” she murmured, entranced by their glow.
He nuzzled her palm, pressing a kiss to its center.
“You’re so beautiful,” she told him and couldn’t care less that the word was more often used to describe women. He
was
beautiful. And despite his apparent misgivings, she liked seeing him like this. Eyes as bright as the moon. So consumed by passion that he couldn’t hide his true nature from her.
His brow furrowed. “I almost bit you.”
“I know.” She touched a finger to his tempting (and talented) mouth. He had the softest lips she had ever kissed.
“I’m sorry.”
Remembering his previous experience with women, she gave him a quick kiss. “It’s okay, Roland. You didn’t scare me.” She felt heat climb into her cheeks. “To be honest”—she leaned forward to whisper in his ear—“it turned me on.”
“It did?”
She leaned back again so she could see him.
His face was lit with the most adorable, boyish smile she had seen on him thus far, making her doubly glad she had told him.
“Really.”
He gave her a quick, buoyant kiss that made her smile.
When he drew back, she was sorry to see his fangs had retracted.
Easing her feet to the floor, he held her steady until her rubbery legs would support her. “The desire to bite you was almost overpowering,” he admitted, “but I have to resist it. As addictive as I find your scent, I’m afraid your blood would be even more so and make me want to keep coming back for more.” He brushed her hair back from her face and gently cupped her cheek. “I can’t risk infecting you, Sarah. I
won’t
risk it. I care too much about you.”
She covered his hand with hers and held it there, feeling surprisingly disappointed, yet touched that he cared so much for her he would deny himself to keep her safe.
Sending him a mischievous look from beneath her lashes, she murmured, “I guess you’ll just have to keep tasting me in other ways and places.”
Grinning, he shook his head. “You’re an amazing woman.”
Adopting an exaggeratedly somber look, she nodded. “I know.”
Roland laughed and scooped her up into his arms. “Let’s go try out that whirlpool tub.”
All was quiet when Bastien awoke. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was late afternoon. The other vampires would still be asleep, rousing only when the sun set. He supposed it was his age that allowed him to wake as early as he did. Perhaps the longer one was infected, the weaker the side effects became, requiring less rest and allowing brief exposure to sunlight.
His thoughts turned to Roland and the woman as he dressed, then began negotiating the underground maze.
Sarah Bingham.
After this morning’s failed attempt had cost him twelve more men—all human—Bastien had set Tanner to seeking out information on her, wanting to know what her role in all of this was.
Apparently Sarah was neither a member of the network nor Roland’s Second. She was a thirty-year-old music theory professor, who—as far as he knew—had never laid eyes on Roland until Bastien and his men had staked him out for the sunrise practically in her backyard.
She was a complication he had not anticipated, but one that may work to his advantage. Killing Roland was his top priority. He would accomplish that feat using any means necessary.
Crossing the basement’s main room, he climbed the stairs.
The farmhouse’s living room was empty. There were only four humans in his employ now. He could hear three of them trolling for snacks in the kitchen.
Bastien entered the study as the fourth, Tanner, pulled a stack of papers from the humming printer.
“Is that tonight’s list?”
Tanner jumped, then turned to regard him with a worrisome amount of relief. “You’re awake. Finally.”
That couldn’t be good.
“What’s wrong?”
Tanner rolled his eyes and set the papers on the neat desktop. “It’s Keegan. He’s been calling every five minutes, wanting to meet with you.”
“Did he say what the problem was?”
“No, he just kept cursing me out for not waking you up. Then cursed me out some more for not telling him where you live so he could do it himself.”
“Thank you for that.” Bastien was still unsure he had done the right thing by trusting the biochemist and didn’t want to leave himself and the others vulnerable.
“Sure thing. Maybe you should call before he has a stroke.” Lowering his voice, he muttered, “Or before I strangle him.”
Bastien smiled. “I’ll wait and go see him when it’s dark.”
“You want backup?”
“No, I can handle him.”
Tanner laughed. “I’m sure you can.”
The phone rang.
Tanner glanced at the caller ID, lifted the receiver, then slammed it down again. “How’s the hunt going?”
“More slowly than I anticipated.”
“Anything I can do?”
“Just what you’re already doing.”
Nodding, Tanner rounded the desk and held out the papers. “Here’s tonight’s assignments.”
Each page had a name and address at the top and Mapquest directions below it.
“There seems to be an endless supply, doesn’t there?”
Tanner’s lips tightened. “Yes, there is.”
Dr. Montrose Keegan fell into the
arrogant little prick
category. Bastien did not like him. However, that dislike was not intense enough to deter him from accepting an opportunity very few vampires had been given.
Montrose’s twenty-three-year-old brother, Casey, had succumbed to the virus four years earlier. (Drunken college students were easy prey for vampires, which was why so many of Bastien’s men had been under twenty-five years of age when they were transformed.)As commonly happened, the vampire who turned him had almost immediately abandoned him.
Bastien had found Casey and Montrose shortly thereafter and had taken the young vampire under his wing, offering him shelter and instruction as long as Montrose helped him search for a cure and Casey agreed to keep their lair’s location a secret, even from his brother.
The arrangement had worked well so far. Unfortunately, Montrose forgot on occasion just who wielded the power in this game, and needed to be reminded.
Bastien silently let himself into the single man’s house and followed the curses and frustrated thumps and thuds to the basement lab.
His back to Bastien, Montrose stood beside a cluttered desk with a phone receiver held to his ear. Swearing foully, he slammed the receiver down.
Bastien let his fangs descend their full length, made sure his irritation was enough to make his eyes glow, then put on a burst of preternatural speed so he seemed to appear out of nowhere directly in front of the good doctor.
Montrose was so startled, his feet left the floor. “Bastien! Where … H-H-How did you get in?”
Bastien curled his lip, flashing a bit of fang. “Tanner Long is both my employee and my friend. Would you care to explain why you verbally abused and tried to berate him into disturbing my rest?”
Sweat beading on his forehead, the average-size, prematurely balding man took a nervous step backward. “I-It was an emergency.”
Bastien towered over him, scowling menacingly. “An emergency would be finding the teaspoonful of Casey’s remains left behind after an immortal’s attack.”
Montrose paled.
“Casey is even now awakening from the rest you sought to deny me, so there
is
no emergency. Did you finish the suit?”
“N-no. It’ll be ready tomorrow.”
“Why is it not ready tonight?”
After stuttering several unsuccessful beginnings, Montrose said, “I just—I need to know where you got that blood sample you brought me. Not Casey’s. The other one.”
Bastien frowned. “You know where I got it.”
“From your enemy? The Immortal Guardian?”
“Yes.”
“Where can I find him?”
“In a few days, there won’t be anything left for you to find.”
Montrose shook his head wildly. “You can’t kill him. He isn’t human.”
Bastien laughed. “Neither is your brother.”
“But he was once,” Montrose said earnestly.
Frowning, Bastien studied the man carefully. There was an almost fanatical gleam in his eyes, put there by something he must have found in Roland’s blood.
“What are you saying, Keegan?”
Montrose crossed to one of the tables laden with computers, centrifuges, and assorted medical paraphernalia Bastien knew little about and picked up a labeled glass vial with blood in it. “I’m saying Casey may be a vampire now, but he started out
human.
This
man”—he held up the vial—“didn’t. This man was never human.”
Bastien stared at him.
What the hell?
Though Sarah knew it irked him, Roland didn’t go out to hunt that night. They bathed Nietzsche, shared what for others would’ve been dinner, but for them was brunch, did the dishes, let Nietzsche out, brought the cat back in again when he picked a fight with an opossum, then retired to the living room.
While Sarah caught up on world events through various satellite news channels, Roland paced restlessly. Back and forth. Around and around. Until she couldn’t take it anymore and turned off the television.
“Roland.”
“Yes?” he replied absently.
“Why are you still here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Shouldn’t you be out hunting?”
He frowned. “I’m not leaving you here alone, unprotected.”
“I’m not in danger here.”
“As you were in no danger at my home?”
“You said yourself they must have followed us after the big paranormal rumble. Well, there’s no way they could have followed us here. Seth zapped us here or flashed us or tele-ported us. Whatever you want to call it. There’s nothing to lead them here.”
He resumed his pacing. “Except me, if they see me out hunting and follow me home.”
“Yeah, like that’s going to happen. You’re expecting it now and will know it if they even
try
to tail you.”
“You have more faith in me than I do.”
“I have
complete
faith in you,” she told him honestly.
He stopped and turned to stare at her, his expression stunned. “How can you? I’ve failed you twice.”
Now it was her turn to frown. “What? When?”
“When you were harmed running from that bastard Bastien—and me, I might add.” He had never said as much, but she knew her initial fear of him when she had seen him sprout fangs and drink the goth kid’s blood had hurt him. “And again when you were nearly shot and burned alive while in my home and under my protection.”
“I’m here, am I not?” she retorted, coming to her feet. “Safe and secure and still in one piece.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“What about Bastien? He almost killed you twice. Don’t you want to find him?”
Hell, yes!
his expression shouted even as he shook his head. “Your safety is more important to me.”
“Then call Chris Reordon and have him send some guys over to protect me while you go take care of business.”
“I’m not going to entrust your safety to a group of humans I don’t know from Adam.”
“So … what? Bastien goes free?”
His shoulders tensed. “Marcus is searching for him, as is Lisette.”
Sarah crossed the room and stood toe to toe with him. “You know that isn’t good enough.” Reaching up, she stroked his clenched jaw. “You want to be out there with them, hunting this guy down and taking him out yourself.”
Leaning down, he pressed his forehead to hers and sighed. “I don’t see any way around this. I can’t let anything happen to you, Sarah.”
Her heart swelled at the emotion in his deep voice.
He didn’t say it as though he felt obligated to keep her safe. He said it as though he couldn’t bear the idea of her getting hurt.
Pressing a quick kiss to his lips, Sarah took his hand,
turned, and began leading him toward the hallway. Through the door to the basement and down the spiral staircase they went, Roland asking no questions.
When they reached the subterranean floor, she turned left instead of toward the bedroom they shared on the right.
“Where are we going?”
Sarah said nothing until they reached the training room, where she flicked on the light. “I want you to teach me how to kick vampire ass.”
“What?”
“Knowing I can defend myself against a vampire attack will help put your mind at ease. Mine, too. So …” She motioned to the weapons and assorted equipment that filled the high school gym–size room. “Teach me.”