Death's Lover (14 page)

There she stood, his exotic priestess. Her hair was hanging down, long and loose and flowing well past her shoulders. Her golden eyes were huge. Bow-shaped lips turned down into a frown. Her pale skin shone radiant in the light of the moon.

He tried to shut off the emotions. Tell himself that the blood pounding in his ears and the knife twisting in his gut meant nothing.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

He ground his jaw, then decided. “You said you worked tonight. I came to see you, Eve Philips.”

He hadn’t meant to stay; he’d had every intention of disappearing before he’d been found, but looking at her now…he didn’t want to leave either.

She smiled. It was only a slow curling of the lips, but it put heat in his loins and had him taking a step closer.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes, wishing he had stayed away, wishing he’d never met her, that she could have kept her husband. That none of this ever had to happen to her. All the secrets, all the lies he’d already told. When the truth came out, she would hate him.

He opened his eyes. “I couldn’t stay away.”

Eve didn’t even try to stop the stupid I’m-so-ridiculously-happy grin from hijacking her face.

I couldn’t stay away.

Her heart jerked against her chest just thinking about it. So maybe he had a thing for rambling fools after all.

“How’s the tattoo?” he finally asked after a moment of silence.

Without thought she touched the tender spot on her back. “Little sore. Otherwise, it’s pretty good. I need to put some more tattoo goo on it, though. It’s getting a little dry.”

“Hmm…”

She glanced at him out the corner of her eye. He seemed distracted, his thoughts a million miles away. She waved a hand in front of his face. “Earth to Cian.”

He looked at her. “What?”

“You feeling okay? You seem bothered.”

Exhaling, he ran his hand over his head. She loved that hair of his. It was so long, so out-of-date, and yet it fit. On most any other man, hair that length would be such a turnoff. Maybe because he looked so masculine, but it didn’t distract. A wicked desire to have him spread that hair out while she massaged his naked back made her shiver.

“I’m sorry, Eve. I am distracted; I shouldn’t be. Maybe I’m not good company tonight.”

“No. No, you’re fine.” There wasn’t a chance she was going to let him leave her now, especially because the truth was he didn’t seem fine. Not really, and suddenly she felt an urge to do something nice for him. Normally she’d take her friends to a diner and help share their woes over a plate of Mac’s famous chili-cheese fries. But with a vamp, that was pretty well out of the question.

Vamps couldn’t metabolize regular food; eating anything that didn’t involve platelets tended to give them the human equivalent of food poisoning. She’d had to concoct several blood-cleansing potions for untried newbies still unsettled at the thought of feeding.

Which left only one other place at this time of night. Thankfully an Indian summer had bespelled the day, it was unnaturally warm, all the better for what she had in mind, if she had time, that was. She checked her watch. Another two hours before she had to meet the screaming meemies at the club—plenty of time.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

He frowned. “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

Eve glanced around. At nine p.m., San Francisco was packed with tourists. The flashes of several cameras and the happily smiling faces attested to that. Loud music from competing clubs, mixed with the high-pitched chatter of vendors and revelers made it too noisy and crowded. Not something she’d normally mind, but tonight she sensed he might enjoy something a little more sedate and peaceful.

“No, not here. Someplace quiet. Come with me. I know just the spot.” She grabbed his hand and led him off the beaten path.

Twenty minutes later they were standing on sand, watching as rolling waves washed up on shore. Salty air filled the night. There was nobody else on Baker Beach at this time of night, and that’s how she liked it.

The light of the silver moon danced across the obsidian shore and silhouettes of jagged rock tore through the waters. Dangerous swimming area, but a nice sunbathing spot.

The summers were a mess, especially since this strip of sand also doubled as a nude beach. Gawkers were pretty much everywhere during the day, but there was a certain privacy and eroticism to nighttime forays that couldn’t be matched.

She hadn’t brought him here to see him in the nude—circumspectly she glanced at the barely visible bulge in his jeans—although…

“This is nice.” He inhaled, and in his words she heard a sincere appreciation. For the first time since being around the vamp she sensed him at peace, fully at peace.

She smiled. Maybe he was a nature guy. The city could tend to drive people a little batty sometimes. There were definitely advantages to not being a tourist: knowing the local dives intimately, for one.

He took several deep breaths of the salt tinged air and then turned to look at her. Deep blue eyes glittered in the moonlight. “Thank you, Eve. You can’t know how much I needed this.”

Biting her bottom lip, she glanced away, her heart thumping so loud in her chest she was sure he could hear it.

C’mon, Eve, remember he’s a vamp. Don’t want him getting too excited at hearing the rush of hot blood through your veins.

That calmed her immediately. A few nibbles on the neck for fun, sure, but to be fed on…not so much.

The surf was pounding the beach, its navy-blue waves called to her, making her itchy to feel its coolness lap against her heated body.

She gripped his forearm, stopping him in his tracks. He glanced down at her with a frown.

“Hold on.” She lifted her leg, hopping around to keep her balance, and slid off first one strappy sandal and then the other. “I’ve got to go barefoot here. I love digging my toes in the sand.”

He stepped closer to her, covering her hand with his own. “Aren’t you afraid of stepping on broken glass, or even needles? Beaches aren’t that safe anymore.”

His worry for her was nearly her undoing. As it was, her heart was in serious overdrive. She’d forgotten what the first blooming of a crush had felt like. And damn, she was thirty, but she was more than willing to admit she was seriously crushing on this thoughtful, sexy as sin vampire.

Memories of her and Michael’s first few dates came back to her and with it memories of all the excitement, passion, dread, fear, joy, near-to-tears exhilaration of getting to know someone and knowing you were falling fast. He could be Mr. Right or even Mr. Right Now. Whatever he was, she was feeling it all over again.

She was both terrified and ready to jump for joy. To cover her confusion she lifted her ruby necklace and shook it a little.

“This stone channels my power. With it I can whisper any command and have it come to be. Those within my capabilities, at any rate.”

He looked impressed and gave her a soft smile. “I assume you can protect your feet, then?”

“I don’t think that’s out of my range, no.”

There went that stupid grin again, stealing across her face. Could she control anything anymore? Nothing for it; she was a walking free-for-all.

Closing her eyes, she imagined her feet to be as tough as steel and yet at the same time as sensitive as a butterfly’s wing.

“Make it so,” she murmured and then opened her eyes to see a hazy reddish fog envelop her feet before slowly fading away. The enchantment was wrought. Now no harm would come to her tender flesh, and she’d still be able to feel all the texture of sand and water. Exactly what she wanted.

She dug her toes into the sand, relishing its cool, grainy feel, and inhaled happily. “Why don’t you take off your shoes and join me, vamp?”

Cian cocked his head and grimaced. “No. I don’t think—”

Eve stood on tiptoe, placing her finger over his sinfully yummy lips. “Then don’t think and just do it. Live a little. Don’t you know this is how you make memories?”

He trapped her finger between his lips. His mouth was a warm haven and when he flicked her with the tip of his tongue she thought she might die. Or swoon. But probably die, because swooning was just so pathetically cliché.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have…”

Placing a finger over his lips she shook her head. “I’m not sorry.”

His nostrils flared and with one final kiss to her finger he let it go. She swallowed hard, body pinging like a live wire. Thank the goddess she hadn’t eaten anything earlier; her stomach was a hot mess of dive-bombing butterflies.

“You know what. You’re right. I should live a little.” And so saying, he took off his shoes. Then he grabbed her hand, threaded their fingers together, and resumed walking. The leather of his glove was as soft as baby’s skin and pulsed with warmth, which seeped straight into her palm. It was unusual. Unlike the cold feel of leather she was used to.

“This leather…” she said, lifting their linked hands and staring at the black glove, noticing for the first time the runes etched into the leather. “It’s so soft. Different from normal cowhide.” She traced a finger over one design.

Okay, so she was totally trying to get him to fess up about the glove. At first he hadn’t worn one, so she knew his hand wasn’t burned or deformed, but he had one on all the time now. Since the moment Indigo had attacked. Not that she didn’t like it; it sorta hammered home the fact that he’d lived in eras she’d have given her right kidney and maybe even her left to see. It was sort of regency meets goth and she dug it. But she was still curious.

He grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, placing a very gentle kiss at the crook between thumb and fingers.

She shivered, her heart taking a nosedive in her chest. Needing to bank the fire scorching between her thighs, she walked toward the water’s edge, close enough for the gentle waves to slip over her feet.

The water was frigid, which was what she needed to quench the lust hammering through her veins.

They walked in silence, yet there was no awkward tension. She peeked at him from the corner of her eye.

He was calmly staring ahead.

This felt right.

The water.

The scenery.

And most of all…him.

S
o tell me, Cian, how long have you lived in San Francisco?”

An innocent question, but still his heart gave a jolt. It was questions like this that could lead to other more in-depth questions, and that couldn’t happen. Especially not now.

Though he had to admit, whether he wanted to or not, this was turning out to be the most pleasant evening he’d had in decades. He couldn’t believe he’d done that to her fingers, or the fact that she’d liked it. Being around her made him reckless, crazy to taste her, touch her. He barely knew her, hardly knew what was happening to him. But the only thing he
was
sure of was that he needed to know this woman. Lise had told him to go for it, so there had to be a reason. Maybe this was the key to Eve’s ultimate salvation. He had to hope, anyway.

“Awhile,” he finally said.

“Mmm.” She inhaled and looked to the sky, a dreamy smile on her face. “I’ve been here for twelve years. Came for college; liked it so much, I decided to stay. You know how it goes.”

He nodded.

“There’s no place like it. To be able to live free and be who you are without fear of reprisal. It’s nice. Home.”

Her skin was like silk. The touch of her arm against his, her fingers laced together with his own. He wished he could feel the touch of her hand, without the glove interfering. A burning desire to do the forbidden and slip the glove off, touch her, filled him to the point of bursting. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t put her in danger. Ever.

Not to mention the fact that when she discovered the countless lies he’d told, she’d probably hate him forever.

This couldn’t be happening, shouldn’t be, and yet it was. With one look he’d been entranced and with one smile she’d claimed his heart forever. So fast and so hard there’d be no going back. Eve made death feel. For so long he’d been a machine, moving from one soul to the next, doing his job, not thinking about the person as anything other than a chore. A task to complete. But from the moment she’d poured her feelings into him, she’d sparked something back to life, something he’d thought long dead. She was beautiful and funny, yes, but she made him want more than death. She made him want to live.

So what now? Lose his heart and his mind when she died? He couldn’t accept that. Regardless that Lise or Dagda had given him no shred of hope, there still had to be a way. There
had
to be. Because to believe otherwise didn’t bear thought.

“Cian…” She bumped him with her hip hard enough that he tripped, nearly losing his balance and falling to the sand.

Eve laughed. Her melodic, sultry sound slithered down his spine and coiled tighter around his heart.

“What?” His lips twitched.

“You, Mr. Man, were ignoring me. I asked where you lived. I’ve shown you mine, now you gotta show me yours.”

He cocked his brow. “Are we still talking about houses?”

She laughed. “You’re so dirty. Yes, houses. For now.”

Her sultry look gave him visions of ripping the shirt from her body and tasting the breasts she’d teased him with the night before. He grinned.

Lise either could read the future, or she instinctively knew the way Eve’s mind worked. He was pretty sure it was a little of both.

Her golden eyes widened and she waved a hand through the air. “Ohmygod, I’m not trying to invite myself over, if that’s what you think. Well, I guess that’s what it might have sounded like, huh? What I meant was…”

It was mean of him to let her ramble on, but it was qualities like that that endeared him to her. Being and living amongst the fae was always a constant battle of wills, deception, and one-upmanship. Her natural way of being was so refreshing that he almost felt at times lost and unsure. This wasn’t normal for him; but then all she’d have to do was smile at him and he felt anchored once more.

She made him feel…alive.

Scarlet had settled deep into her cheeks when he finally decided to put her out of her misery. He grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Her lashes fluttered shut, and she took a deep, cleansing breath. The anxiety eased out of her, replaced by calm relief.

Heat pooled in his cock. He’d never wanted something so badly in his entire life.

Pulling her into his arms, he laid his head atop hers. She fit perfectly, her tiny hands clutching at his shirt. He knew the instant she felt him, because the gentle flutter flowing from her to him turned instantly to a hot, heavy pulse of sexual desire, so strong it nearly brought him to his knees.

He clamped his jaw shut. At the very least he could control this. If not his desire, then his actions.

“Eve, it’s okay.” He ran his hands up and down her back in a soothing gesture, and he didn’t know what made him do it, but he uttered the damning words, “I live in a flat in Presidio Heights.”

“Wow,” she said in breathless wonder. “I always heard the ancients were loaded. You’d have to be to live in those million-dollar homes. So how old are you really, Cian? Not that I’m prying or anything.”

She raised a black brow.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Scrunching her nose, she punched him lightly on the arm and sauntered off, hands crossed behind her back, skirt billowing softly around her ankles. “What can I say, I’m like a hound dog with a scent. I’m gonna get you to tell me how old you are someday.”

He caught up, grabbing her hand and pulling her to his side. She laughed and wiggled out of his grip and this time ran off, her black hair whipping through the breeze like a banner.

Excitement stirred his veins, and he took off after her.

Eve zipped around him, graceful as a gazelle, her strong legs eating up the distance along the shoreline. He could catch her, but he enjoyed the chase. The feel of his lungs expanding for breath, muscles in his legs coiling and bunching, pushing off from the sand.

Panting, she finally dropped to the sand—mere inches in front of him—and stuck out her foot.

He tripped over her, landing with a soft thud on the beach. He wasn’t even given enough time to right himself when he felt a slight body plop on top of his. Her unique scent filled the space between them.

“Eve,” he growled and rolled over, clamping his fingers into her sides. She was glowing with a rush of blood; her pale skin shone luminous. The ruby in the center of her necklace gleamed with flares of volcanic red, swirling with undulating waves of color, rolling into and onto each other.

Their eyes locked and time stood still.

He was aware of only her. The feel of her tiny body on his. Her legs straddling his waist and the steady rise and fall of her chest.

She licked her lips and her anticipation crawled through his skin.

“So bonny.” He lifted his hand and trailed a finger down her cheek. The heat off her body seeped through the leather. The gloves were an extension of him. The essence of what he was created the material, it was almost like touching flesh to flesh. Almost. For now, it was enough.

Black lashes, like moth’s wings, fluttered shut.

All the reasons why he shouldn’t touch, shouldn’t taste her, no longer seemed to matter. She was here with him, offering herself in a way no other ever had. For that reason alone Cian couldn’t resist.

Placing his hands on her shoulder, he pulled her slightly forward. Her mouth parted in a silent whisper.

So damn beautiful.

He closed his eyes, reaching out with all his senses, wanting to savor this moment, to remember it ten or even a hundred years from now with the same clarity.

When he exhaled, she inhaled. They were one breath, one heartbeat, everything in time and in tune with the other.

She trembled and his heart clenched. Then he closed the final bit of space between them and claimed her lips for his own.

Eve moaned into him. Her fingers curling into his shirt, her soft hair falling around them, shielding them like a curtain.

He tasted, his tongue delving deeper, wrapping hers around his. Warmth spread through his body and centered in his chest. She tasted of apples, sweet and irresistible.

Cian deepened the kiss, his hands roaming along her now-prone backside, kneading, cupping, and committing to memory.

She made tiny mewling sounds, her soft lips pressed tight to his.

Heat, like the warm rays of the sun shot through his pores, a projection of not only her lust, but something deeper. Fuller and much more elemental and with it, a tiny thread of anxiety.

It worried him, but he was hungry for more of her and couldn’t reason the why of anything at the moment.

He groaned, wanting to crawl inside her skin and make the warmth stay. Eve was the peace he’d never known.

The lack of air in his lungs was what finally made him break away, and he did it with much regret.