Fury Calls (8 page)

“She's crazy. When I was serving them dinner, she had already taken a nip out of him. I sensed something wrong. She had this wild look in her eyes.”

Diego rubbed at his wrist and the action drew Blake's attention to the blood staining the cuff of his shirt and the long, ragged tears in Diego's suit jacket.

“Got you good, didn't she?”

The older vamp glared at him and then considered Ryder at length. “This is one too many incidents for my taste, amigo.” He held a hand out toward the vampiress, ignoring the way she snapped at him, and said, “I can feel the disturbance in her energy, can't you?”

Come to think of it, a push of power, unsteady but forceful, registered more cleanly against his vamp senses, Blake thought. He had been too occupied with saving the other vampire's life to pay much mind to it before. But now that he had…

“What is that and why did we all come running when we felt it?” Well, most of us, he thought, recalling that Stacia had been in the dining room but had yet to make an appearance.

I was busy,
he heard in his head, followed immediately by,
Come open the door
.

All three of them turned and took a step toward the
entry in deference to Stacia's bidding. Blake had known that Stacia and Diego had sometimes shared blood with each other, but Ryder…

“Blimey, mate. I thought you and your little law enforcement chit—”

“Shut it, Blake,” Ryder warned, and strode to the entrance to the room, his steps clipped and urgent.

He swung open the ornately carved door. Stacia sauntered in but stopped short as the blood-crazed vampiress strapped down to the love seat grew even more hostile. She yanked at the ties on her wrists and ankles, and the legs of the love seat groaned from the pressure she exerted in her quest for freedom.

When she saw Stacia, a wild guttural cry spilled from her lips and was immediately followed by the snap of her jaw, over and over again as if she was anticipating feeding from the elder.

“This is not good,” Stacia said. She slowly walked closer to the young woman, then stopped and kept her distance, pacing back and forth as she considered the vampiress and her actions. Stacia raised her hands and closed her eyes as if to experience the primordial beat of her vampire energy that they had all previously sensed.

The young woman stilled for a moment, but then renewed her attempts to escape, her actions even more frenzied than before until it seemed as if she was having a seizure.

Ryder and Diego flew to her side to keep her down as the love seat started to buck from the force of her wild movements. After a minute of the nearly panicked
seizures, the vampiress arched her back off the love seat, her body spasming into a tight knot before she fell back against the cushions, her body limp.

She was dead.

The raw and unbalanced power they had sensed earlier instantly evaporated.

Stacia finally neared the dead woman, her earlier reticence gone. With one finger she tilted up the dead vampire's head and urged it back onto the edge of the love seat. That position exposed the blood oozing from her eyes, nose, mouth and ears. As Stacia gingerly pried open the lids of one eye, it uncovered the shining neon glow of the vampire's iris swimming in a sea of blood. Nothing remained of the white of her eye.

“Creepy,” Blake said, as he shivered, unnerved by the sight. He had never seen anything like it before—and judging from the looks on Ryder's and Diego's faces, neither had they.

“Dangerous,” Stacia replied, and shifted her gaze up to Diego and Ryder. “I haven't seen this in nearly two millennia.”

“Seen what?” Diego pressed, sliding his hand beneath Stacia's to close the one damning eye of the dead vampiress.

“
Sanguinarium coitus prohibitum
. It's the equivalent of vampire Ecstasy, but the drug's effects are deadly and uncontrollable. It's why the sanguinarium drug was outlawed by the vampire elders close to a millennium ago. The entire supply was supposedly destroyed at that time,” she explained.

“So how did she get an outlawed thousand-year-
old drug?” Ryder asked, as he bent and started to undo the bindings.

Stacia stayed his hand. “I wouldn't rush it just yet. Some vampires have been known to revive and try to satisfy their bloodlust.”

“So what do we do?” Ryder asked, moving away from the body.

Blake chuckled harshly. “First thing is we make sure the chit is dead. Second thing is for you find out who's got a beef with you.”

Diego shook his head, frustration and concern on his features. “Why would you think someone has a beef with us?”

Once again, Blake let out a rough laugh. “You've got three dead vamps in less than a month and Bloodzilla here. Seems to me that's too many things to be just coincidence.”

In unison both Diego and Ryder glanced at Stacia, who slipped her arm through Blake's and said, “For once I think he's right.”

“Is he now?” he heard from behind him and turned to see Meghan walking into the room. When she looked up from their entwined arms to meet his gaze, the chill in her emerald green eyes was foreboding. Her lips thinned into a tight line and a small part of him was pleased that she seemed just the tiniest bit jealous.

Another part of him worried that Meghan in a fury was probably worse than Bloodzilla had ever been that night. He braced himself for what she would do next.

“S
o nice to see you again, Meghan,” Stacia said, disengaging her arm from Blake's and strolling sexily to her, her graceful hand extended in greeting.

Meghan peered down at Stacia's hand. An assortment of finely wrought gold rings graced her slender, elegant fingers. It was impossible not to imagine those fingers touching Blake, since her vampire powers were picking up on the connection between them. The connection that confirmed they had shared their bodies and their blood. Worse yet, the sharing had been recent.

The bite of jealousy roughly sank its teeth into her gut, sharper and more painful than any vampire's kiss.

She took hold of Stacia's hand in a no-nonsense grip that made it clear she wouldn't be intimidated.

The vampire elder grinned in challenge and tightened her hold in response until the designs on some of the rings began to painfully dig into Meghan's skin and were followed by the ache of bone grinding on bone.

Meghan directly met Stacia's dark-eyed gaze. A smirk played across Stacia's face, as if she was enjoying Meghan's discomfort, but Meghan didn't flinch or pull away. Instead, she increased the pressure of her grasp, letting the other woman know that she refused to be cowed.

Blake walked over and stood to the side of them, rocking back and forth on his heels, obviously amused. Damn him.

“Ladies. While this display is rather gratifying—”

“Don't flatter yourself, luv,” Meghan mimicked, and ripped her hand out of Stacia's. Although she knew she was bleeding and possibly bruised, she didn't look down nor rub her hand.

“Later,” Stacia nearly purred. She caressed Blake's cheek before flipping a dismissive wave in Meghan's direction. But then Meghan heard in her head, loudly and with a bit of annoyance,
He called your name as he came
.

The knowledge did little to assuage an anger Meghan knew she shouldn't be feeling. There was nothing between her and Blake. If she had any sense at all, there never would be.

Contrary to her earlier thoughts, nothing had changed.

Blake had turned her. He had disappointed her more than once despite all the good things he had done in the past. Even lately, when he seemed to be almost a good
guy, she always seemed to be waiting for him to screw things up—like his apparent tryst with Stacia.

He just wasn't a trustworthy guy, she reminded herself. She glared at Blake, who started to apologize, but then Ryder and Diego walked over, preventing any kind of private discussion.

Diego motioned toward the kitchen and inclined his head in her direction. “Please hurry everyone along so we can deal with this.”

Ryder added, “I'm going to call Diana.”

“It's about time,” Blake said, with a snort of disgust.

Diego jerked his hand up and pointed a finger in Meghan's direction. “Go with Meghan. Help her out and then leave.”

“I don't need him helping me,” she said and strode away. But Blake ignored her comment and followed anyway. As they quickly moved toward the kitchen, he leaned close and said, “It's not what you think.”

She stopped and turned without warning, and Blake ran into her. He was forced to grab hold of her arms to keep her from being bowled over.

“Not what I think?” she hissed from between clenched teeth.

“I'm sorry, Meghan.”

“You know what?” She jabbed him in the chest with one finger. “There's nothing to be sorry about, Blake. There's nothing between us.”

“Liar. We both know there's feelings between us,” he urged, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. A shiver of desire danced over her, but she forced it down, wanting to regain her anger as a defense.

She shook off his touch and started walking again. “The only feelings between us are hard feelings.”

“Meghan—”

She held up her hand to silence him, and without even looking at him said, “Go home, Blake. You're not wanted here.”

“Bollocks,” he mumbled, and immediately thereafter, she felt his absence as he left. The satisfaction of his departure was soon tempered by the disappointment that he hadn't put up a fight to stay. Damn him anyway, she thought, as she headed into the kitchen to do as Diego asked.

At her workstation, she finally looked down at the palm of her hand. The cuts from Stacia's rings were nearly healed over and a yellowish tinge remained from a bruise. Pain lingered there, however.

She rubbed her hand, trying to drive away the ache. Trying to ignore the concern that the pain she was feeling was other than physical.

She refused to acknowledge that anything Blake had done with Stacia bothered her. But then Stacia's words replayed in her head.

He called your name as he came.

And with that came some small sense of satisfaction along with dread. She didn't want to admit that Blake stirred any emotions in her other than anger.

To do so would surely cause her nothing but grief.

 

Blake didn't take kindly to being dismissed. Not by Meghan and not by Ryder and Diego.

As he paced back and forth in the alley behind Otro
Mundo, he considered leaving as Meghan had commanded, but his pride dictated that he go back in and tell her a thing or two.

With a determined swagger in his step, he returned to the restaurant and nearly ran over Meghan once again.

She stopped abruptly, clearly surprised that he had come back. Her chef's jacket hung open as it usually did when she had finished working, revealing the tight black tank top she wore beneath. He looked around. Everyone else in the kitchen was gone.

“What are you doing back?” she asked.

He took the last step necessary to bring them face-to-face. “Whether any of you like it or not, I'm as involved in this as you are.”

She crossed her arms and arched a manicured brow. “Really? What makes you think that?”

He pushed back the one sleeve on his jacket and shirt, revealing the healing bite mark from where he had fed the injured vampire. “This.”

Her stance softened and she laid her hand on the pink skin over the twin bites of teeth. Her fingers trembled against his flesh. “What's this?”

“Fed the bloke. Couldn't let him expire and make it five dead vamps.” He shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant, but Meghan didn't seem to buy his act.

“Why does any of this matter to you, Blake?”

He turned his hand and took hold of her fingers, battling between denying the reason for his interest and telling her the truth. The first would salvage his pride while the second would risk his heart.

Either choice could bring loss, but only one could bring satisfaction.

He closed the distance between them and braced himself for rejection. “It matters to me because I know how much this place matters to you.”

At the spot where he held her fingers came tension, followed by a quaking release that traveled from her fingers up her body.

“Damn you, Blake. Why do you have to make this so hard?” she said, and lowered her head. She had released her shoulder-length hair from the French braid, and now it spilled forward, hiding her face from him.

He placed his thumb beneath her chin and applied gentle pressure. When she met his gaze, tears shimmered in her deep green eyes. Once again, she asked, “Why, damn you?”

“I just want a chance to prove to you—”

“That you're a good man? Technically, you're not a man anymore and thanks to you, I'm not the woman I used to be,” she reminded him. A tear escaped and slipped down her cheek.

He wiped it away with the pads of his fingers and said, “I'm not a man, but I am good. All I want is a chance.”

She sighed roughly and dragged her fingers through her hair. “Did you prove you're a better man by sleeping with Stacia? Is screwing an elder some kind of notch on your vampire belt?”

She had him dead to rights on the screwing-Stacia part, so he didn't try to deny that. “We have a history.”

“When you're as old as dirt I would imagine there's lots of history,” she said, irritation apparent in her voice.

“I slept with her because I needed a favor,” he admitted, wanting no secrets between them.

Meghan pulled away from him and wrapped her arms around herself again before facing him. “Do you value yourself so little that you would trade your body for a favor?”

Her words ripped into his soul, reopening old wounds. Reminding him of how he had once sacrificed himself for his family. Chastising him for so willingly giving himself to Stacia on Meghan's behalf. Despite that, he knew there was only one answer to her question. Only one reason why he had done what he had done.

“It's not that I value myself so little, love,” he said, and approached her. When he stood barely an inch away from her, he softly said, “It's that I value you more. I did it because I wanted to keep you safe.”

“Damn you,” she said, and buried her face in her hands.

He closed the final distance and wrapped his arms around her. He held her tentatively at first, allowing her the tears born of her confusion and, he hoped, her acceptance of the truth of his statement.

Her body was tight at first, but as it gradually relaxed he strengthened his hold on her, drawing her close until their bodies were flush against each other.

Meghan reluctantly dropped her arms and then slipped them around his waist. As she did so, she raised her face up, and he cradled her cheeks and wiped away her tears.

“Forever could be a lot less lonely if we take this risk, Meghan.”

At her slow nod, he brought his lips to hers and
tenderly sampled them, accepting her reluctant acquiescence. He didn't press, aware that if he did, it might shatter the moment.

He rubbed his lips across hers and then placed a kiss at the edge of her mouth. Slowly he shifted his lips along hers and she finally responded, meeting his lips in a kiss.

Her breath spilled against his mouth a second before she tasted him. He accepted the hesitant slide of her tongue along the seam of his lips and opened his mouth.

She slipped the tip of her tongue in and he met it with his, danced his tongue with hers and along her lips. A breathy sigh escaped her, and she deepened the kiss and pressed against him.

He eased his hands down to her waist and beneath her open jacket. Grasping the trim line of her waist with one hand, he splayed the other along the small of her back as they continued kissing.

Meghan grabbed hold of his shoulders, her hands shaky as she accepted the thrust of his tongue. He pulled her closer and she noticed how every lean line of his body perfectly matched every curve and hollow of hers. She shivered as passion roused.

“Easy, Meghan. Let's take this slow,” he urged against her lips, seemingly content to just keep on kissing her.

Not that she would complain. He was a marvelous kisser, enticing her to respond with a gentle nip of her lower lip that he salved with the soft swipe of his tongue. As she met his tongue with hers, he playfully sucked it in before slipping away to kiss the contours of her mouth, exploring every valley and arch.

It almost became a game of tag as he sampled each millimeter of her lips, inviting her to meet him there with the play of her tongue and mouth before moving on to another spot.

She chuckled and slipped her hand to the back of his head, cradling it and keeping him close. As he teased her, nipping the edge of her bottom lip, she applied soft pressure and deepened the kiss. She slid her tongue into his mouth and urged her hips against his. The hard ridge of his erection pressed into the softness of her belly. She rubbed her hips across him, and at the small of her back the pressure of his hand increased to press her ever closer.

Between her legs came the pull of need and the memory of the satisfaction she had once experienced in his arms. With that memory, however, came hesitation. Once again she questioned the wisdom of giving in to the desire between them.

“Blake,” she said with a breathy sigh. She broke the kiss but couldn't stop touching him. She moved her hand from cradling his head to stroking the strong line of his jaw.

“I understand, Meghan. I'm a patient man,” he said. He bent his head for a last kiss, but a deliberately loud cough broke the magic of the moment.

They stepped away from each other, although Blake slipped his hand into hers as they turned in unison to face Diego.

He stood at the mouth of the hall leading to the office, his face all hard planes and surfaces. A chill in his eyes made them the color of glacial ice.

“Diana has arrived” was all he said, the tone of his
voice formal and clipped, before he pivoted in the direction of the office.

“Hail, hail the gang's all here,” Meghan quipped, and took a step, but Blake tugged her hand to keep her from advancing. She shot him a quizzical look, puzzled by his actions.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked.